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queenshelby · 3 years

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The Singer – Part Two

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 7,970

Warning: Lots of Smut, Some Swearing

Tag List (Cillian):

@lilymurphy03 @deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall @elenavampire21 @hanster1998 @mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-my-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang @0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee @cloudofdisney @missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey

Cannot Tag (please check your settings):

@l0tsofpennies @margoo0 @trolleydolly @avonlady1985 @chrisevanshoeee @daydreamingnymph @fookingshelby @chocolatehalo

***Drinks and Secrets***

Seven days after your last encounter with Kurt, you finally had his desk delivered back to his office which was located at the Dublin theatre and music district at the back building of a large venue.

Next to his office were several recording studios which meant that, whilst you were recording your new album, you saw him more frequently than you would have hoped.

In addition to working on your new album, you were working on an advertising campaign for the upcoming arts and music festival. As part of this campaign, you were recording a song with Amanda and another Dublin artist named Jeremy who gained a lot of popularity lately.

He was a nice man, in his late thirties who had a lot to offer. He played several instruments and it was easy to work with him and Amanda, at least until Amanda tried to organise a date between you and Jeremy.

She told you about it over some drinks on a Friday afternoon following a day at the recording studio.

‘I have two tickets to see the new play at the Abbey. I was going to see it with Cillian but, since we broke up, this isn’t going to happen. I thought that, perhaps, you could go with Jeremy’ Amanda said with a big grin on her face as she handed you a pint of Guinness.

‘Jeremy? Why would I go with Jeremy?’ you laughed, somewhat surprised by Amanda’s suggestion.

‘He is handsome, a real gentleman, funny and defiantly not a douche like Kurt. Despite, you said that you liked older and more mature guys’ Amanda laughed.

‘Well, perhaps you should ask him out yourself then?’ you giggled, causing Amanda to sigh.

‘I am not ready to date anyone Y/N. In fact, I don’t know if I am over Cillian yet’ Amanda said somewhat disappointed, causing you to take in a deep breath as you thought about your recent encounter with Cillian.

You were overrun with guilt as Amanda continued on, talking about her breakup with Cillian. You knew that you shouldn’t have slept with him, but then again, you didn’t know that you and Amanda would be working together again until three days ago when one of the other musicians dropped out of the project.

‘So, do you think you will give it another chance?’ you asked curiously.

‘I don’t think so. I think he made up his mind. To be honest, I don’t know if I still have feelings for him or if I just miss the sex’ Amanda laughed just before she ordered another drink.

‘Right…that good, eh?’ you said as your face turned red almost immediately. Of course, you knew the answer to your own question.

‘That’s probably too much information, I am sorry. The beer is getting to my head’ Amanda said with some embarrassment.

‘It’s fine, seriously’ you responded before telling Amanda a little bit about your relationship with Kurt.

In turn, after Amanda had more beers, you learned that Cillian liked to take control in the bedroom and you weren’t surprised about this in the slightest, thinking back to the night at your apartment where he took you over Kurt’s study desk. The same study desk that was now in Kurt’s office once again. The thought of it made you giggle internally.

But then, the conversation changed and became more serious when Amanda told you the real reasons behind their recent break up. She believed that she was at fault, pushing him away slowly over time with her jealousy and trust issues, trying to prevent him from socialising and leaving him no space for himself. She accused him of cheating several times but later found out that there was nothing behind the rumours. Cillian eventually had enough of her antics and broke it off again.

‘Oh my god, I am sorry. I usually don’t drink’ Amanda said as she observed your facial expression when she continued to talk about Cillian. She was certainly more direct and open about her sex life than you had hoped.

‘I think I should get you home’ you said with a warm smile, feeling a sense of responsibility, and Amanda nodded in agreement.

Since you only had two beers over two hours, unlike Amanda who had at least six or seven, maybe more, you were still able to drive and you helped Amanda to your car, hoping that press wouldn’t notice her state. After all, she had quite a following herself.

Twenty minutes later, you pulled up in front of Cillian’s house which was where she was still living at the time as the settlement of her property was delayed.

Supporting her, you walked towards the front door and rang the doorbell. Within a minute, Cillian opened and couldn’t believe his own eyes when he saw you with his completely drunk ex-girlfriend.

‘Hi’ Cillian said somewhat surprised as he took hold of Amanda. She barely managed to walk by herself.

‘Hi’ you said, your eyes avoiding his.

‘Uhm, thank you…’ Cillian chuckled, not knowing what else to say to you, before asking you whether you wanted to come inside.

‘I would love to use your bathroom, if I could’ you laughed as you had to pull over earlier when Amanda got sick and your clothes smelled like vomit.

‘Sure, common in’ Cillian said just before he pointed you to the bathroom and helped Amanda getting out of her vomit-stained clothes.

You left the bathroom door open slightly as you cleaned yourself up and observed Cillian getting a bucket from the laundry before telling Amanda to have a rest.

After he helped her to lie down, placing the bucket next to the bed, he came into the bathroom to speak to you. He left the bedroom door open slightly so that he could hear if Amanda was getting sick, worried that she might miss the bucket in her state.

‘What happened? It’s only 6 o’clock’ Cillian asked almost amused.

‘She just kept drinking Cilly…I don’t know’ you said with a chuckle as you tried to wash the vomit out of your expensive vintage blouse.

‘Beer?’ he asked curiously, causing you to nod.

‘Fuck. I am in for an interesting evening then’ Cillian said somewhat irritated, causing you to laugh out loud.

‘So am I because I meant to see my sister and her husband for dinner at 7 o’clock and I smell like puke now’ you giggled, seeing the humour in all of this.

‘Have a shower here. I will get you a clean t-shirt’ Cillian suggested and you accepted his offer gratefully.

A minute later, Cillian gave you a towel and one of his black t-shirts. You closed the bathroom door behind you and got undressed.

When you stepped into the shower, you were slightly confused by all of the buttons. You never saw anything quite like this. You pressed one of the buttons and nothing happened. Then you pressed the next and, finally, water came rushing out from the top like waterfall but, it was cold.

‘Dammit’ you said loudly as the cold water came rushing down over your body, barely managing to wash away the little bit of soap you had placed on your chest and breasts earlier.

‘Having problems with the shower?’ Cillian asked from outside the bathroom door a few seconds after he heard you yell.

‘There is no hot water’ you said as you stepped out of the shower, wrapped the towel around you and opened the door.

Cillian stepped inside, gazing over your semi naked body for a second or two, before turning on the shower for you.

‘Wow, that’s high tech’ you giggled as you stood right next to Cillian, his body awfully close to yours.

‘Isn’t that usually how you young people roll?’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to give him a slight nudge and, in the process of it, loosing hold of your towel on one side.

Cillian noticed immediately and his jaw dropped as he drew a deep breath.

‘Cillian?’ you whispered as you noticed him looking at the ceiling, purposely trying to avoid eye contact with you.

‘Yeah’ he said with a low voice as he looked back at you but, instead of saying anything else to him, you pressed your lips onto his tentatively.

Cillian gave into the kiss and parted your lips with his slightly, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth in order to meet yours.

Your hands reached for his cheeks and the back of his head while your towel dropped to the floor.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this Y/N’ Cillian whispered as your lips drifted apart after what seemed like an eternity.

‘No, we shouldn’t’ you responded despite the fact that you wanted him, right then and there.

But, his lips landed on yours again almost instantly, ignoring the interfering thoughts in your heads.

As you were kissing, Cillian’s hand wandered over the back of your body and then in between you, immediately finding your wet mound.

You let out a low moan as his fingers began to gently massage your clit before one of his fingers dipped inside of you momentarily.

On your left upper thigh, you could feel his erection press against you, restricted by his tight and ripped jeans.

You pushed your mound against his hand as much as you could while he swallowed up your moans, continuing to kiss you passionately.

But, as he began to apply more pressure against your clit, you had to pull away from his mouth and moan escaped you.

His speed increased and you let your head fall forward against his chest and shoulder, taking in the scent of his aftershave and moaning into the thin black cotton of his t-shirt.

Your legs began to quiver within minutes and his magical fingers on your clit brought you over the edge fairly quickly.

You held onto Cillian, continuing to moan against his chest as your orgasm washed over you and he finally slowed down his movements.

‘Fuck’ you whispered as Cillian chuckled at the fact that he just made you cum within less than five minutes.

‘You should have a shower now or you’ll be late for dinner’ Cillian winked before pressing his lips onto yours again.

‘What about you?’ you asked quietly as you ran your hand over his crotch.

‘I better check on Amanda’ he said somewhat reluctantly before leaving you by yourself in the bathroom.

After a quick shower, you got dressed and returned to the living room where Cillian was sitting, watching a documentary.

When you approached him to give him a kiss, he pulled away.

‘We cannot keep doing this Y/N’ Cillian said quietly and it was obvious to you that he had been doing a lot of thinking while you were in the shower.

‘You are right’ you murmured, upset by his response.

‘Are we okay?’ he asked and you nodded.

‘Thanks for the shower’ you said a little upset before grabbing your keys and phone and returning to your car.

***Family***

Later that evening, at dinner with your sister and her husband, your sister asked you about your music projects and, of course, your love life.

She knew that you had separated from Kurt and, even though you called it a break, it was obvious to her and anyone from your family that this was final.

She was glad that it was over. Finally, you were free from him.

When she asked you if there was anyone else, you couldn’t help it but tell her about Cillian. But you didn’t tell her his name, nor did you tell her how you had met.

All that you told her was that there was a man who you had slept with and who you think you might like and this was the first time that you admitted your feelings for Cillian to yourself as well.

It felt strange to you as, initially, when you met Cillian, you couldn’t stand him but now that you got to know each other more intimately, this changed.

When you told your sister that he was 43, making him exactly twenty years older than you, her jaw dropped.

‘Forget about him Y/N. Honestly’ she told you, thinking that he was too old for you and the press would rip you to pieces about it, just as it happened with your ex-girlfriend which emotionally destroyed you at the time.

‘I’ve grown since then, emotionally and mentally and I cannot help it. His presence does something to me and, currently, I work with him all the time’ you said with a deep sigh.

‘Is he a musician?’ your sister asked curiously and you shook your head.

‘He’s an actor’ you admitted but went no further than that regardless of how much your sister was poking around, asking you for his name.

‘It doesn’t matter because it isn’t going anywhere with us and you are right, it’s probably better that way’ you said when she asked you for his name for the third time.

Your sister gave up eventually and, after several glasses of wine, you decided to stay at her house for the night before a big day at the studio finalising the schedule for the music festival.

The next morning, when you tried to start your car, the engine had stopped working. It was a brand-new car and you were extremely irritated and contacted the car dealer immediately.

The car dealer advised you that they couldn’t get the car in for repair until Monday and your sister luckily offered to drive you into Dublin city.

‘Do you have time for a coffee?’ she asked as she pulled up in front of the studio and nodded. You still had twenty minutes before your meeting with Cillian and Kurt.

You sat down at a booth table in the small café beneath the theatre and the waitress was quick to take your order and bring you some water.

‘The coffee here is really good’ you said to your sister but she seemed somewhat distant and unresponsive.

‘June? Are you with me?’ you chuckled and, suddenly she looked at you with wide open eyes and whispered ‘Cillian Murphy’.

‘What about him?’ you asked absolutely flustered.

‘Over there, at the counter’ your sister then whispered with excitement, causing you to take in a deep breath. He wasn’t the person who you wanted to see right at this moment, especially after what you told your sister last night.

‘He is my cheat pass’ your sister then said, causing you to inadvertently spit out some of the water in your mouth.

‘You are joking?’ you asked, causing your sister to shake her head and continue to stare at him.

‘I am going to say hello’ she said determined and you took her hand quickly and responded ‘no you are not’ which was when Cillian noticed you and walked over towards your table.

‘Morning Y/N’ he said with a smile before giving you a friendly kiss on the cheek.

‘Hi Cilly’ you said before introducing him to your sister with some embarrassment.

Your sister was quick to move to one side, indicating for Cillian to sit down next to her and he didn’t think anything of it and joined you both for coffees and a snack to eat.

The three of you engaged in some small talk and Cillian informed you that Kurt had called him earlier that day telling him that he was sick and wouldn’t be coming in.

You were glad about it in a way but it also meant that it was just you and Cillian working on the schedule which might be a problem after last night.

After you drank your coffees and engaged in some more conversation, each of you went your separate ways. Cillian and you had a days’ work ahead of you and your sister had to get back home.

A few minutes after you left the café, you got a test message from your sister. ‘Fuck he’s hot. Can you invite him for drinks with me or something’ it said and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘What’s so funny?’ Cillian asked as he observed your facial expressions and small giggles.

‘Nothing’ you responded before putting your phone away, ignoring your sister’s text message.

***Working Together***

The day went by quickly and you managed to be quite productive, finishing the schedule for the festival by 4 o’clock. There was no arguing anymore between you and Cillian and, with Kurt not being there, there was also no shouting.

As you were working together, you and Cillian kept your distance from each other, trying as hard as you could to stay focused and professional.

You sent the schedule off to Kurt for consideration and communication to the artists and Cillian offered you to drive you home after you told him about your car.

You agreed reluctantly as it was raining but all of your focus and professionalism went out of the window as soon as Cillian pulled up in front of your apartment.

‘Uhm, would you like to come up for a drink?’ you asked, knowing exactly that you shouldn’t have asked him that after last night.

‘I shouldn’t’ Cillian responded reluctantly. He knew he couldn’t get involved with you again. Another relationship was not what he wanted, especially not with someone as young as you.

‘I know, I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s fine. Thank you for driving me home. Have a good night’ you said before giving him a friendly kiss on his cheek before getting out of his car.

As you reached the front door of your apartment building and searched through your bag for the key, you heard the door of Cillian’s car close.

You looked back and saw Cillian approach you with a hesitant smile.

‘Changed your mind?’ you smirked as he walked up the pathway leading to the front door of your apartment block.

‘Yeah, I suppose’ Cillian smiled with his hands in his pockets like a shy schoolboy while he was waiting for you to open the door.

You finally found your key and you both took the elevator up to your apartment, keeping your distance from each other.

You opened the door to your apartment and Cillian followed you inside almost shyly, remaining standing in the doorway and asking ‘before I do anything stupid, it isn’t really a drink that you are after, right?’

‘No. In fact, all I’ve got is tap water’ you said almost embarrassed and, just after you did, you found yourself pinned against the wall and Cillian crashed his lips onto yours in a haste.

You parted your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and explore yours in a passionate kiss.

With one foot, you pushed your apartment door closed behind you before you gave into the Cillian completely.

‘Not fire safety compliant’ Cillian murmured as your lips drifted apart, causing you to look at him with some confusion.

‘The door. It’s opening into the wrong direction’ Cillian chuckled, causing you to raise your eyebrows and start to laugh.

‘You are weird’ you chuckled before you pressed your lips back onto his, thinking why on earth he would have noticed this in the heat of the moment.

‘Coming from the woman with a Harry Potter tattoo beneath her left breast’ Cillian chuckled after your lips drifted apart again momentarily and he began to unbutton your mustard-coloured vintage shirt.

‘What can I say…I am magic’ you chuckled before you pulled him closer again for another kiss.

Each and every kiss was passionate and urgent, full of desire for each other.

‘Didn’t we say we wouldn’t do this again?’ you asked as your shirt landed on the floor.

‘You are the one who initiated it by asking me upstairs for a glass of tap water’ Cillian chuckled. ‘Do you want to stop?’ he then asked, causing you to shake your head and pull his t-shirt over his head exposing his bare chest.

‘Didn’t think so’ Cillian smirked before he trailed kisses over your breasts, which were still covered by a black lace bra, and then all the way down to your stomach. He dropped to his knees slowly while his lips explored your body and his hands began to fondle with the button and zipper of your jeans, pushing them down gently.

You let out a soft moan as his hands ran over the front of your treasure. His face was awfully close to your most intimate area and you could feel his hot breath on your wet mound, fanning through the lace of your panties.

With your jeans stuck over your ankles, Cillian pushed your legs apart with his hands as wide as he could.

‘Don’t move’ he instructed, causing you to take in a sharp inhale and, just as you did, he hooked the index fingers of both of his hands into the hem of your panties and pulled them down all the way to your ankles.

You wanted to push your legs together, feeling vulnerable now that he got such a close look at your wet mound. But, Cillian’s hands wouldn’t allow as he held your thighs in place while pushing you all the way back at the freshly painted wall of your apartment.

Cillian then moved to your inner thighs and his soft, wet tongue administered little licks, alternating with kisses, as he moved back and forth between your left and right thigh, ascending higher and higher as he did.

‘Hmm….fuck’ you moaned in anticipation, causing Cillian to smile against the flesh of your right thigh before looking up at you for a brief moment, his blue eyes meeting yours.

You bit your lip suggestively and then watched as that pink, wet, soft tongue of his slid out of his mouth in a flattened state and land on the right outer lip of your wet mound.

A loud moan escaped you as soon as his tongue moved closer towards your centre, giving your slit a very long, very slow, torturous lick.

You placed your hands on his head and ran your fingers through his hair as his tongue licked up and down before sinking it into your entrance once slightly, making you squirm.

‘Hold still’ he instructed as he pushed your thighs apart again with his hands.

With both outer lips equally swollen, you watched as he made his tongue pointed again, spreads your swollen outer lips and then licks both of your inner lips from back to front at the same time, sending shivers down your spine. He then ran his tongue over your clit hood and gently pulled the hood back, revealing your swollen, throbbing, pulsing clit.

‘Cillian, fuck’ you moaned as he continued to lick you. He took his time, slowly licking all of the surfaces of your clit.

Unlike most men you've been with, he knew what he was doing and you soon began to shudder and shake as he covered this territory.

After as little as ten minutes, you could feel yourself getting close to your high.

‘Cillian, don’t fucking stop’ you moaned as your hands held onto his head firmly as he continued to suck on your clit gently.

Your orgasm washed over you almost instantly and you lost all of your self-control while Cillian kept pushing your legs apart with his hands and stimulating your clit with his mouth.

Your legs wanted to give way shortly after you came down from your high and Cillian got off his knees quickly before pressing his lips onto yours in a haste, wanting you to taste your own juices that had pooled across his lips.

You moaned into his mouth while your hand reached between the both of you, running over his erection which was trapped beneath his tight jeans.

‘I am not done yet’ Cillian said as he moved your hand away from his crotch and pinned you back against the wall, kissing you again passionately.

While he was kissing you, he ran his hand over your wet mound, collecting your wet juices with his fingers before bring his finger up to your mouth.

You took his fingers into your mouth, licking them suggestively until he pulls them away from your mouth again.

Without words, his blue eyes starred into yours, full of want and desire and, without you noticing, his hand returned back in between your legs where he now, effortlessly, slid both of his fingers into your warmth.

You let out a loud moan, while Cillian looked at you, taking in your facial expressions. His lips were parted slightly as he observed your moans and you leaned forward to kiss him, but he wouldn’t allow it.

Within a few seconds, he found the magic spot inside of you and proceeded to tease it with his fingertips.

‘Holy Fucking Christ’ you screamed in shock. No one, not even yourself, had found this spot before and your legs were ready to give in right then and there.

‘Oh my god, stop…I mean don’t stop. Fuck, this is intense’ you said with laboured breathing as you starred at Cillian who responded with a satisfied grin.

‘Just relax and let go’ Cillian said before he pressed his lips back onto yours.

The pressure he used was gentle at first until he could feel you relax, which is when he increased his movements. You were already wet but, when his fingers massaged your g-spot, you began dripping on to the dark wooden floor.

‘Cillian, fuck fuck fuck, oh god’ you moaned as you felt a sensation you never felt run through your body. It was more intense than anything else you had ever experienced and, without being able to control yourself, you screamed loudly as your walls began to tighten around his fingers.

‘That’s it baby’ Cillian said as he watched your eyes close shut and listened to your loud moans while another orgasm washed over you.

As he did, he could feel a gush of wetness run over his hand and down to the floor, But you didn’t notice, you were in a trance, your legs were shaking by that point and you were entirely consumed by the most intense orgasm you ever had.

As you came down from your high, the wall behind you preventing you from collapsing to the floor, you looked at Cillian in disbelieve before noticing the puddle of clear liquid that had formed on the floor.

Cillian grinned, his tongue running over his lips suggestively as he watched your embarrassment.

‘Oh my god, what the fuck. This never happened before’ you said somewhat embarrassed when you noticed the puddle.

‘I am good then’ Cillian said before he pressed his lips back onto yours and wiped his hand on his jeans.

‘I am so sorry’ you said as your lips drifted apart, your mind filled with embarrassment about the mess you just made.

‘For this? Don’t be ridiculous’ Cillian said before kissing you again. ‘In fact, I think it’s sexy’ he added after your lips drifted apart.

‘Would you like to break in my new bed?’ you smirked as you took off the remainder of your clothes and indicating to Cillian to follow you.

‘It would be my pleasure’ Cillian smirked before he quickly kicked off his shoes and picked you up, remembering the location well from the last time he visited you.

As he held you against him and walked, you could feel his hardness pressing into you through his jeans and throbbing against your wet and naked mound.

He carried you to your bed and, with one swift movement, you found yourself with your back on the mattress.

As he took off his jeans and briefs all at the same time, Cillian couldn’t help but stare at your naked beauty, right there in front of him.

You could see his body respond as his hard member twitched and a few drops of precum escaped and fell to your bedroom floor.

You didn’t have to wait long for him to join you on the bed, hoovering over you and planting kisses over your body before meeting your lips again.

Then your lips were sucking and nibbling on his as he pulled away after each kiss, teasing you and occasionally your tongues would meet and fight each other.

No one ever kissed you quite like he did. It was intense and full of desire. Each kiss was different, new and exciting.

After your lips drifted apart again and while Cillian once more tried to take control, directing you to the position he wanted you in, you pushed him beneath you instead, catching him by surprise.

‘Do you have condoms?’ you asked as he was lying beneath you, thinking that you should have thought about this much earlier.

‘What happened to the ones from last time?’ Cillian asked as his hands continued to trail over your body, paying particular attention to your breasts.

‘They are in Kurt’s desk which is now in Kurt’s office’ you said, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘I can get dressed and walk to the shop. It isn’t far’ Cillian suggested before letting out a deep sigh knowing that his erection would defiantly not come down if he had to walk to the shops.

‘I am on birth control and, after Kurt, I just had all of my check-ups done’ you said, causing Cillian to nod in agreement before trying to take charge once again. But you wouldn’t budge and held him down against the bed playfully.

‘You really don’t like to give up control, do you?’ you grinned, causing Cillian to respond with a quiet chuckle.

‘No, but I am willing to try if you manage to tame me’ he winked jokingly before trying to pull you closer for another kiss.

‘I think I might just have the right thing for you Mr Murphy’ you grinned as you pulled away and reached for your bedside table.

From your bedside table, you pulled out a pair of leather handcuffs and held them up suggestively.

‘Do I get to use them on you some time?’ Cillian chuckled before he willingly put his hands above his head, ready for you to tie him against the metal frame of your bedhead.

‘Maybe’ you smirked as you secured the cuffs against his wrists and the bedhead, leaving him completely at your mercy.

By this time, the windows of your bedroom had become foggy, with precipitation running down the inside of them and the room was starting to smell like two people in heat, lust filling the air.

With Cillian’s wrists tied to the bedhead, you were now the one who hoovered over Cillian, planting kisses over him and rubbing your wet folds over his upper thighs suggestively. Random drops of his precum were caught by your skin and you got intermittent glimpses of his cock, still rigid this whole time.

He hated and loved the way you were teasing him all at the same time until, finally, you made your descent over his perfectly shaped chest and stomach and all the way down towards his hard member.

Cillian inhaled sharply as he watched you lick his precum of his cockhead, using your tongue only.

He pulled on his restraints, desperate for you to take his rigid member into your mouth as you continued to tease him with only small licks.

‘Patience’ you whispered before, finally, you took all of him deep into your mouth, making him groan loudly as he bottomed out in your throat.

Whilst your hands paid attention to his balls, you began to bob your head up and down before taking his hard shaft into one of your hands and licking around his tip only.

After about ten minutes, Cillian’s breathing soon became laboured and you knew that he was getting close as you could feel his cock pulsate inside your mouth.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned until, eventually, your motions came to a halt and you shifted your body back up towards his until your lips met his once again.

While you exchanged a passionate kiss, you swung one leg over Cillian’s waist and reached between you, holding his hard shaft and carefully guiding it inside you.

‘Jesus’ was all that escaped him after your lips drifted apart and you lowered yourself onto him, taking inch by inch of his cock inside of you until you sat flush against him.

‘Hmm yes’ you moaned as you could feel all of him inside of you, stretching you and filling you completely.

‘Fuck you feel good’ Cillian moaned, trying to pull against his restraints in order to touch you. But his efforts were futile.

His warm cock felt amazing inside you and, once you adjusted to his size, you began to move, up and down, backwards and forwards.

You flicked your head back, riding him fast and hard. His breath was laboured and it was obvious to you that he was enjoying it, no longer trying to get out of his restraints.

‘God damn Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he watched your breasts bounce slightly up and down with every movement and it wasn’t long until your fingernails dug down into his chest, leaving some visible marks.

‘Come inside me’ you moaned, turned on by the thought of it and this was all he needed to hear in order to let go completely.

‘I am so fucking close’ you moaned and Cillian groaned in sync with you as he tried to thrust back up into you despite the restraints.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned again, his cock beginning to throb inside of you and, just as he groaned once last time, you screamed his name as your third orgasm washed over you.

Cillian and you came together, in sync, and your walls contracted just as he filled you with his warm cum.

After you rode out your orgasm, you slowly uncuffed him before lifting your body up slowly, allowing his cock to slide out of you.

You could feel his cum leak from your core and down your thigh as you got up.

‘Oh wow’ you grinned sheepishly as you noticed the large amount of cum on your core and thigh.

‘Yeah sorry, it’s been like a week’ Cillian chuckled but you didn’t mind at all and collected some of it with your finger. You brought your finger to your mouth, licking it suggestively.

Your actions caused Cillian to raise his eyebrows and stare at you in disbelieve.

‘Well, I wanted to see what you taste like’ you smirked before you collapsed next to him.

You curled up against Cillian’s chest while he wrapped his arms around you, his fingers gently tracing over your back.

You pulled the sheets over you, feeling the cold air passing through the room, the heat of Cillian’s naked body radiating to yours.

‘I don’t really want to get up’ Cillian said, half covered by your sheets, starring at you with his deep blue eyes.

‘Then don’t. Stay here tonight’ you smiled before pulling him close for another kiss.

‘It’s only 8 o’clock Y/N. I probably should go’ Cillian said, causing you to pout.

‘I could order some chinese and a bottle of wine…we can watch a movie and then we can fuck again’ you suggested, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘I didn’t think that you could handle any more’ Cillian chuckled as he could see the exhaustion on your face.

‘Oh trust me, I can’ you said.

Cillian reluctantly agreed and you got up from beneath the sheets to get your phone to place the order.

Luckily, your apartment was a loft style studio penthouse and your large bed was in the middle of the large room, right in front of your flat screen TV.

‘What do you want to watch?’ Cillian asked as he flicked through the movies on Netflix and you finally agreed on a scary movie you had heard about from your sister.

But, neither of you paid much attention to the rather horrible movie. You enjoyed your chinese food and wine and joked, talked about almost anything and everything until, finally, the credits came on.

‘That was terrible’ Cillian laughed and you agreed and apologised for your choice of movie.

‘At least the main actor was hot’ you giggled as you got up and placed the chine food containers into the bin in your kitchen area.

‘Do you want me to introduce you?’ Cillian chuckled.

‘Nah, I don’t get involved with actors’ you said as you sneaked back under the covers. You were both still completely naked, covered by the doona.

‘Is that right?’ Cillian laughed before his lips crashed back onto yours and you quickly found yourself beneath him.

‘I can’t believe you can actually go again’ you said delighted as you could feel his hard member poke against your upper thigh, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘Well, I am in bed with a very sexy woman…one who doesn’t get involved with actors apparenty….so maybe I should leave’ Cillian joked as he ran his hand through your hair gently.

‘I will make an exception for you’ you smirked just before Cillian got up from the bed and walked to your bathroom ensuite.

Seconds later, he returned with a large white towel and placed it onto the bed, causing you to look at him with surprise.

But, before you could put any more thought to it, he kneeled on the bed and took your legs, putting them over his shoulders.

‘Uhm…’ you said, somewhat surprised by his choice of position and, before you could say anything else, he interlaces your fingers with his and you felt the head of his cock rest against your entrance.

Cillian shifted his hips back and forth, running the length of his shaft and head over your wet folds and then pushed the head into your already soaking entrance.

You take a deep, shuddering breath as you felt his swollen cockhead push your lips aside and stretch you.

Your walls relaxed while you felt even more wetness flowing from you as Cillian gently pressed forward and you could feel your walls stretch around him once again.

Cillian leaned forward, bending at the waist while he entered you slowly and fully until he bottomed out inside of you and there it was again, this unfamiliar feeling.

You let out a loud moan as you could feel the tip of his cock press against your g-spot which was when you began to realise why he chose this position and why had placed a towel beneath you.

‘You are so fucking beautiful’ he whispered while you watched as he started to pull out again almost all the way before pushing back in and pausing when his cockhead hits your g-spot again.

‘Cillian, oh god’ you moaned as, with some subtle movements of his hips, he rubbed the head against your g-spot, making your fingers and toes curl.

Then he pulled out again almost all the way as he waited a few seconds for you to swell tighter. During that time, he ran his fingertips up and down your thighs and gave you grin before he started thrusting back into you again. He was slow and gentle, similar to when he his fingers first stimulated your sweet spot.

Once Cillian felt you relax completely and give in to the sensation of being penetrated this way, his thrusts became more forceful and fast.

The temperature of your apartment had increased significantly as sweat starts pouring down your bodies. Your juices once again started dripping from you and down his shaft. Your wetness was pooling underneath you two.

Cillian watched your toned stomach muscles flex as you cannot stay still as he reached down to rub your clit in circles, clockwise and counterclockwise while continuing his thrusting. Your breathing, which had started to become irregular, was now erratic. He smiled and enjoyed watching your breasts jiggle everywhere as you squirmed, trying to hold still.

Most of your body has now become a little numb, and as you felt him pulse and throb deep inside you and hear him moving in and out of your wetness, your eyes start glazing over a bit and rolling back into your head.

And then the intense feeling started again, at the top of your head. You couldn’t completely explain it and it was the most calm, relaxing feeling but with an undercurrent of tension that just gradually builds as that feeling flows over your face, neck, breasts, stomach, arms, and legs. When the feeling hit between your legs, your walls clamped down as hard as they could on his thick shaft.

‘Cillian, fuck…please don’t stop’ you moaned and with a loud cry, your body began to shiver, quiver, shake, bend, shudder, and contort as a multiwave orgasm rolled through you. Each wave feeling like a lightning bolt from head to toe as your tension lessened with each episode. Cillian pinned you down as you could not possibly stay still as he watched you writhe in ecstasy.

You almost blacked out as your whole body couldn’t stop coming. Just like the last time when Cillian massaged your g-spot, the pool of juices beneath you had quickly become a puddle and you could soon feel his balls swell up against your mound.

When your walls tightened around him, you could feel his cum rising within his shaft just before, with one loud groan, he filled you again with his warm seed.

Small tears fell from your eyes as you finally came down from your high and Cillian carefully pulled out of you, allowing you to rest your legs on the mattress.

‘Fuck Y/N, are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’ Cillian asked as soon as he noticed your teary eyes and flushed face.

‘No, it was just…’ you said as you took a deep breath before continuing your sentence. ‘It was very fucking intense’ you said, your breath heavy.

‘In a good way I hope’ Cillian chuckled before pressing his lips onto yours.

‘In the best way’ you giggled before you curled up against him.

After several gentle kisses and your hands roaming each other’s bodies, you eventually both drifted off to sleep.

***The Watch***

The following morning, you were both woken up by Cillian’s phone ringing at 8 o’clock. It was Kurt and he was persistent after Cillian didn’t pick up the first time.

Half asleep, with your head still resting on his chest, he answered the phone and talked to him.

‘Hey Kurt, what’s up?’ Cillian asked as he was waking up slowly while you began to trace your fingers over Cillian’s chest, playing with the little bit of chest hair.

‘I got the schedule last night and wondered whether you want to talk about it’ Kurt said politely just as Cillian wiggled around, stretching himself while you planted small kisses over his chest and down towards your stomach.

‘Uhm, talk…yes’ Cillian said as he raised an eyebrow when he noticed that you disappeared beneath the doona, your hands running over his upper thighs.

‘Could you come to my office in an hour?’ Kurt asked as Cillian took in a deep breath as your hands ran over his hardening cock.

‘Fuck’ was all that escaped him as he suddenly felt your warm lips wrapped around his base and he instantly went completely hard in your mouth.

‘Cillian?’ Kurt asked surprised by Cillian’s response.

‘Yes…fuck…sorry…9 o’clock?’ Cillian asked as he tried hard not to moan while you began to bob your head up and down, occasionally twirling your tongue over his head.

‘Yeah, if that’s alright?’ Kurt asked again, somewhat concerned by Cillian’s strange responses.

‘Yeah…’ Cillian responded before holding his breath, a deep groan stuck in his throat.

‘Can you call Y/N? She is being a fucking cunt not picking up my calls even though we need to work together on this’ Kurt complained.

‘Mhhm…’ Cillian said, pretending to listen to what Kurt was saying while you swallowed his length whole, moving your head up and down over and over again.

‘I actually think she is seeing someone’ Kurt went on to say as you ran your tongue piercing up and down Cillian’s shaft.

‘Aha’ Cillian responded trying to hold back his release, so close to coming.

‘I have to go man’ Cillian barely managed to say as your hands wrapped around his tight balls.

‘See you soon’ Kurt said before hanging up and just as he did a loud groan fell from Cillian’s lip.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he moaned just as his shaft pulsated heavily and he filled your mouth with his warm and sweet cum.

You looked up from beneath the doona, opening your mouth slightly and suggestively before swallowing all of it with a grin.

‘So, what did my ex want?’ you asked sheepishly, causing Cillian to chuckle.

‘You are so fucking bad’ he laughed before pulling you close for a kiss and telling you about the meeting.

‘You didn’t last very long despite your conversation with Kurt’ you giggled as you jumped up, walking towards the shower.

‘What can I say, blow jobs are my weakness especially coming from someone so talented’ Cillian smirked before he grabbed you from behind, kissing your neck and following you to the shower.

‘But, that’s not to say that we can’t keep going in the shower’ he grinned and so you went, spending twenties minutes making love while streams of hot water ran over your bodies.

After you came out of the shower and starred into the mirror you noticed that both, Cillian and you, were covered with small little bruises, scratches and bite marks.

You never quite had a night like this with anyone before and you weren’t ashamed. Nonetheless, you opted for a turtle neck jumper and some tight jeans.

Cillian had no choice but to wear the clothes he wore the night before, including the pair of jeans which had some obvious stains.

‘Sorry’ you chuckled as you noticed the stains.

‘Don’t worry. I’ll throw them in the wash and they’ll be grand’ he chuckled before you both walked to his car.

Ten minutes later, you arrived at Kurt’s office together and you felt the need to explain to him that your car broke down and Cillian was kind enough to offer to pick you up.

Kurt wasn’t suspicious by the fact that you arrived together, nor was he suspicious about the little bruises on Cillian’s neck. It was something else that, during your meeting with him, caught his attention and this was Cillian’s watch. It looked awfully familiar.

An hour into your meeting, rewriting half of the schedule because of Kurt being difficult and Cillian continuing to argue with him, Amanda and Jeremy arrived as well to finalise the advertising campaign for the music part of the festival.

Immediately, as soon as Amanda walked into Kurt’s office, she pulled Cillian aside.

‘Where the fuck were you last night?’ she asked quietly but everyone heard it, causing Jeremy to laugh.

‘I don’t think I have to answer that Amanda’ Cillian responded with some irritation before taking the paper schedule off Kurt and walking to the utilities room. Of course, she noticed the small bruises on his neck. It was obvious to her that he’s been with another woman.

You and Jeremy followed Cillian knowing very well that, the last time he tried to use the copier in the utilities room, he almost broke it and one of the administration assistants had banned him from ever touching it again.

As you were gone, Kurt had time to speak to Amanda in private.

‘I think I have an idea as to where Cillian may have been last night’ he chuckled, catching Amanda’s interest.

#cillian murphy #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n

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my2phetaliaheadcanons · 3 years

Note

So on the one ask about the yandere marriage. What would happen if the same characters darling escaped and actually tried fighting back? Probably won’t work out but they tried.

You are correct, darling tried. But it didn’t work, and lead to some harsh consequences.

Germany – The sweet and outgoing nature of his kitten made her seem docile. Luther didn’t count on her claws coming out when she was cornered.

Luther’s love for his kitten will cause him to gloss over her rough behavior at first. Every protest would be seen as a concern that could be swept under the rug. Yelling and screaming would be a lover’s quarrel. It wasn’t until her hand hit his face that Luther would realize that harsher methods would be needed.

Luther’s methods would start off simple, leaving Kitten in a sealed room for a day or two. Each time-out session’s length would be based on what the actions of rebellion would be. After trying this for a couple of months, and reaching isolation periods of two weeks, or having a weapon drawn on him, Luther would up the intensity.

Instead of just isolation, it would start to include chains, starvation, and darkness. These restrictions could eventually break Kitten down to the point of submission. If she hadn’t won Luther’s trust through fake affections and obedience first.

She would either escape through an open window or convince Luther to get extremely intoxicated to the point of passing out. At that point, she could walk right out the front door.

Once Luther realizes what happens, Kitten had better pray that she stays ahead. Luther’s methods are reminiscent of a hunting dog. Persistent and willing to use the pack. If Luther couldn’t find her within three days, then he’s calling the other axis members. More than likely, the help of the other members will corner Kitten quickly.

After she is found, Luther doesn’t wait. He swoops in the second she is away from witnesses and knocks her out. All Kitten manages to squeak out is a “Luther!” and then it's dark.

When she awakens, all she can feel is pain. Luther broke her dominant leg, and though it was well wrapped, she noticed a couple of other new things. The chains that once wrapped only around her ankles became a harness. It's not cutting off circulation, but it was tight. The room she’s in is small, stone, and cold. The only light in the room came from the crack in the door.

This would be the punishment for escape. Luther had been worried and at least this way he knows where she is. Maybe on their five-year anniversary, she could come out.

Sweden – Hustru was a ray of sunshine. Beautiful, bright, and also hot. Not just in terms of attractiveness, her warm cherry attitude would easily change to a blistering fury. This was amusing to Bernard, despite being from an area known for chills, this heat was welcoming.

Going the route of a true yandere, Bernard would hide you away, his logic would be that all newlyweds need some time. Though since it was done with approval from both of their bosses, it would not be in one of his unknown places, rather a newer and known spot, one designed just for her. It would be a simple house, out in the foggy Swedish forest. The outside would be reminiscent of a by-gone area, but the inside would be a mix of modern and medieval.

Bernard thought she enjoyed it until she started to fight against his ‘simple’ rules. Things like yelling and screaming would be funny to him. It was showing Bernard a side that he hadn’t yet witnessed, and he enjoyed that. Each action of rebellion would be recorded by him with joy. Until that is, hustru decided to get physical.

Bernard, like Luther, is fine with backtalk. Physical fighting though is a sign of distrust and the breakdown of his bond with his hustru. At this, hustru would be restrained and with his silver tongue, he would talk her out of attacking. His voice would sound joyful, but his eyes would communicate anything but that.

That would be her only warning. If hustru would attempt another attack, Bernard wouldn’t hesitate to break a limb. This should quell her fire for a time, and at that moment Bernard would coo at her. A sweet voice asking how she could be so clumsy, and how she should allow Bernard to take care of it.

Eventually, it would reach the boiling point she would make a break for it. Bernard would have been waiting for this moment. After all, he already takes people to his home, Bernard knows that it's only a matter of time before they run.

He would follow behind slowly, fully understanding what she would be looking for in an escape route. Each turn hustru would make, she could hear Bernard taunting her and making false promises. Whether or not hustru would realize it, Bernard would be herding her like a ewe to the slaughterhouse.

Bernard would end the chase by cornering hustru. It would either be by a cliff or a lake. Her look of panic would thrill Bernard, and he would descend upon her like a wolf. Their struggle would last until Bernard could give either a hard blow to the back of her head, chokehold, or hold her head in the water.

Holding her now unconscious body close, Bernard would take her away. She would not return to the nice home in the Swedish forest but instead would find herself in an unfamiliar place. It was Sweden’s oldest and best-hidden spot.

This one is underground and like a hobbit hole. Though the inside is much bigger and maze-like. Hustru will never find the door, but Bernard will always be there to give her affection.

Russia – Viktor knew marriage was an adjustment for both the husband and the wife. They were living together for the first time, and that meant getting used to each other’s constant presence. Well, at least for родная, since Viktor knew everything about her. Though, he was reaching the end of his patience with her insults.

Viktor would be willing to turn a blind eye to any rebellion for about a week or two. As I said, marriage is an adjustment, and he would be willing to give родная some time. After that period, and if she is still fighting their love, then Viktor sees reason to correct the bad behavior.

As a yandere Viktor is fine with the occasional comment. Should родная do it more often than that, or attempt to lay it on thick Viktor is gonna act. His punishments are always smart and calculating with the purpose of ensuring submission. It starts simple; restricting her time outside the home and the disappearance of specific privileges. Things like entertainment and basic comforts are the first to go. As time goes on, and if she chooses to escalate her acts, then it's only gonna get worse.

Physical attacks lead to periods of isolation, additional housework, and prevention of sleep. These three together would make it easier for Viktor to shape her behaviors and throughout ask her specific questions to see how she is coming along. If родная is smart enough, she will submit quickly to avoid seeing how far he is willing to take this.

If родная should escape, she then there must be an insurance that Viktor is not home. Once out of the home, then she has no choice but to take the alleyways. Viktor’s men are well-rounded and without a doubt one of them is well versed in hacking. Once found, whether it be via a security camera, or through the use of documents, Viktor will bring her home.

It won’t be a pretty moment. One, it would be in public and there would be screaming and begging. Two, no one would help, mainly because Viktor would appear not only her husband but provide papers to make it seem like she had some illness that required guardianship.

In the end, she’s in a basement tied to a chair. From there Viktor would work once again with his previous taming methods, this time though he would make sure it sticks.

England – Oliver was quite pleased on their wedding day. It was beautiful and perfect, but the events since that wonderful day have been troubling to him. His sweet little Dearie appeared to not be adjusting well to married life, but he’s got the tools to help.

Oliver has always had a need for control, and after the American Revolution, it had gotten worse. When Dearie fights, it’s almost like a flashback for him. He doesn’t handle it well, Oliver is willing to give a warning, after all, it is his wife. Though after not only having his warning ignored but receiving back-to-back threats and the claims that he is a monster, Oliver decides that his wife needs lessons on how to be a lady and housewife.

These lessons range from proper posture and basic manners to tea ceremonies and fancy dances. The length and frequency of the lessons depend on the severity of her crimes. Which to Oliver, each is extremely severe and must be taught out of his sweet little dearie.

For each lesson, Oliver has an enchanted device. For posture, a corset with celestial bronze and white silk. Each attempt of slouching or relaxing causes it to tighten like a python with a rabbit in its coils. Dance lessons involve iron shoes, not only do they burn when the dancing stops, but they can only be removed by Oliver. These are just two of many that he has.

Her escape would not be easy. Oliver’s flying bunnies, Chocolate and Strawberry would always be nearby. Waiting and ready to report. Her best chance of escape would be a moment of pure chaos. Whether she caused it or she had been blessed with it, this would be her only chance of escape.

Once he realizes that she had run away, Oliver would open his dreaded spellbook. The magic would flit and fly around him as he reads various spells. Creatures of all kinds would be summoned and with the leadership of his bunnies, they would spread across the land like the shadows that appear with the setting sun.

Eventually, she would be found. Caught and dragged away by the various shadows Dearie thought she had escaped.

Once Oliver had her back in his arms, an enchantment would be placed. Nothing too harmful, just something that would bind their souls together. Forever.

#2p headcanons #2p hetalia #2p england #2p russia #2p sweden #2p germany #yandere hetalia #yandere

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mimisempai · 3 years

Text

Missing you comes in waves and tonight I'm drowning

Summary:

After seeing Loki disappear before his eyes and confined to the TVA because of the failed mission, Mobius decides to still believe in Loki and search for him. He witnesses the discussion between Sylvie and Loki on the train

Notes:

My theories on the method used by Mobius to locate Loki is probably very far-fetched and lacks technical truth, but that's not the most important point here, so I hope you'll forgive me for my short cuts. (I miss them together!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32162878

2008 words - Rating G

"Loki! Wait!"

Loki looked at him for a moment before stepping through the portal.

By the time they got there, it was too late Loki and the portal was gone.

"I knew he would betray us as soon as he could!" said one of the hunters right next to Mobius.

"Shut up!" shouted Mobius at him before returning to the TVA.

As he walked toward Ravonna's office, the same thoughts swirled over and over in his head.

Had Loki betrayed him! What were his plans? But worst of all, was he in danger?

He tried to think rationally.

Loki always said he was one step ahead, but Mobius knew that wasn't true. Loki was improvising. Loki was adapting. So reason told Mobius that this is what he had done.

That's when Mobius decided to do something he'd never done in his life at the TVA, he was going to bet on chaos. On the fact that Loki had chosen to follow the variant not only for his own sake but also because it was his mission.

Because Mobius could not imagine that what they had shared was nothing in the eyes of the god.

"Mobius! In my office!"

Ravonna... he was already imagining her reprimands, "I warned you" "he can't be trusted"...

As soon as he entered her office, she showed him a screen and just said, "Look!"

A scene showing the variant fighting in a hallway with the guards and Loki in the locker room retrieving his daggers then arriving at the place where the guards were eliminated.

Next scene Loki and the variant fighting, Loki trying to convince her to team up, at this point, despite the faith he has in him, Mobius could not determine if this is a way to stop her or get what he wants.

Then Rovenna arrives and the variant uses Loki as a hostage.

Mobius could not prevent a gasp.

Still on the screen, seeing that Rovenna is not persuaded, Loki grabs an object that opens a portal above them and he and the Variant disappear.

Mobius tried not to show his relief, but he saw that Rovenna was not fooled.

"So you still trust him?"

Mobius looked at her defiantly, "As long as I don't have concrete, real proof that he betrayed us, yes I’ll trust him!"

"Always the idealistic dreamer huh?"

Mobius didn't answer, Rovenna continued, "You're grounded here until I tell you otherwise. You can get out."

Once out, Mobius sat in a chair, held his head in his hands, and began to think. He was grounded, but there was nothing to stop him from trying to figure out where Loki was.

He just had to figure out how to locate him.

The difference was that now, thanks to Loki, he knew to look in the apocalypses, what he had to find now was the equivalent of that candy, something out of the ordinary, something anachronistic.

He stood up suddenly, he had found it!

He went to the office, where the screen that displayed all the nexuses was located.

"Casey! Come here!"

The younger man got up and joined him. Mobius spoke more softly, "Will you help me with a secret project?"

Casey, who had great respect for the man, nodded.

"Follow me."

They headed into the archive room. Mobius chose a table a little out of the way.

"You sit here. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, he returned with a stack of files that he separated into two piles.

"In all these apocalypses, we need to find one where it mentions two Lokis variants and unusual magical acts."

"Got it!"

Mobius didn't know if his smoky theory would work out, but he didn't have much choice.

He couldn't help but think back to a similar scene a few days earlier, when Loki had fallen asleep. He had let his guard down in the presence of Mobius, so that meant something, didn't it?

He started to flip through the files.

"M-Mobius! I think I've got it!"

Casey was showing him a file, Lamentis-1 - 2077, a woman reports that two demons tried to attack her. One even allegedly posed as her deceased husband in order to get information.

Mobius could feel it in his bones. It was Loki and the Variant.

He was going to have to gamble on someone again.

"Casey. I need you to keep this a secret for a while longer. If Ravonna gets wind of this, I'm afraid she'll launch an assault and won't hesitate to eliminate Loki."

Casey nodded without taking time to think, "As long as you need Mobius."

Mobius was surprised that he didn't have to persuade Casey more than that.

After all, he seemed to be the good, loyal employee who never disobeyed.

Casey, seeing his reaction, added with a knowing smile, "You know, I like Loki too. He promised me he'd show me what a fish is and you know? The drink he took from me the other day, he bought me another one and apologized. A villain wouldn't take the time to do something like that right?"

Mobius's throat tightened. Casey was the first person other than himself to acknowledge that there was good in Loki.

"Thanks."

Casey nodded and returned to his desk.

Mobius headed straight for the video archive room. The advantage of being an agent of his rank was that he had unrestricted access to this section of the archives.

He searched through the shelves until he found the videos of Lamentis 1 in 2077.

He sat down in front of one of the small projectors provided for this purpose. He was going to start from the described scene that Casey had shown him.

After entering a few parameters, the screen lit up with Loki being blasted by an old woman.

The noise of the meteors that rained down around

Loki and the one who accompanied him, prevented Mobius from hearing what was being said.He pressed the fast-forward button until Loki and the girl, after some trouble to enter the train, found themselves in a box in the dining car.

He turned up the volume to hear their conversation.

He was amazed at how easily they seemed to converse, despite the jabs on both sides, and couldn't help a twinge of annoyance that he refused to recognize as jealousy.

The variant said to Loki, mockingly, "FYI, that wasn't even a plan."

"Oh, really?"

God how Mobius missed that cheeky attitude. Even when unmasked, Loki still had that irritating confidence.

The variant replied, "Plans have multiple steps. Dressing as a guard and getting on a train is just doing a thing."

She couldn't hold back a yawn.

Loki responded, "Oh, are you a bit tired? Feel free to, you know, get some rest."

One thing Mobius had realized and Casey had confirmed to him just before was that Loki cared more about others than he let on if you paid attention.

The variant grunted and replied, "I can't sleep in a place like this."

"You can't sleep on a train?"

The variant retorted, irritated, "No. I can't sleep around untrustworthy people."

Loki replied, still cheeky, "Oh, right. That's me?"

Fearing he might misinterpret what had been said, Mobius pressed rewind and let the scene play out before him.

The image of Loki nodding in agreement about not being able to sleep near people he couldn't trust was superimposed on the image of Loki sound asleep in his company.

He could not suppress the pang of his heart.

Loki trusted him, Loki considered him trustworthy.

While he was thinking, the video had continued and Loki was now talking about his mother.

Mobius had witnessed Loki's relationship with his mother and his devastation at the news of her death.

Loki's voice had become more hushed, with that hint of fragility he had whenever he spoke of her.

"She was, um... A Queen of Asgard. She was good. Purely decent."

Then the variant and Loki respectively provoked each other about the fact that they were adopted and Loki continued, "You know, when I was young, she'd do these little bits of magic for me. Like turn a flower into a frog or cast fireworks over the water. It all seemed impossible. But she told me that I'd be able to do it too because... Because I could do anything. You wanna see?"

Loki sets off tiny fireworks over his hand.

Mobius could not deny his feelings at that moment.

The sight of magic coming from Loki's hands, pure magic, was enchanting.

Loki continued, "She was the kinda person you'd want to believe in you."

Mobius could not help but whisper, "Loki, I believe in you."

For a few moments he didn't catch the conversation until it was audible again. Apparently they were talking about their love interests.

The variant asked Loki, "How about you? You're a prince. Must've been would-be-princesses or perhaps, another prince." She finished with a wink.

Loki, replied with a serious look, "A bit of both. I suspect the same as you. But, nothing ever..."

The variant finished his sentence, "real."

"Let me find you and I'll prove to you how real it is." Mobius didn't realize he was speaking aloud. He pushed fast-forward again.

The Variant had fallen asleep and Loki looked a little giddy.

Loki waved his hand and was back in his TVA agent costume.

He could wear the illusion of any outfit, and he chose this one. Why stay in these clothes?

Mobius really didn't want to be under any illusions, because how could he imagine that someone like Loki, a prince, a god, would want to claim a belonging to something like the TVA... to someone like Mobius?

Loki had started to dance and sing.

Mobius could not help but laugh. Then his laughter died down as Loki's song became more melancholic,

I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene

Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem

I eplehagen står møyen den vene

og synger "når kommer du hjem?"

Men traner danser og fossene stanser

når hun synger, hun synger "kom hjem"

Then seeming to regain his spirits, Loki began to dance and sing happily again as if trying to prevent nostalgia from invading him.

When the music stopped, he joined the Variant and resumed his seat in front of him. Mobius managed to understand what they were saying to each other.

"What did you just sing to look so disturbed?"

Loki looked a little moved and answered him with the voice Mobius knew well, the one he used when he was serious, when he was sincere.

"It's Asgardian, it says:

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

In the apple garden stands the maiden fair and sings,

"When will you come home?"

Loki stopped, apparently moved, and the Variant simply said, "So there's a would-be-princess somewhere..."

Loki chuckled looking so sad before answering her, "I like metaphors you know, it's not a princess it's a prince, and I don't know if he's waiting for me or hoping to see me again, it's not even really my home, but..."

"But you'd like to believe that right?"

Loki nodded.

Mobius, didn't dare to believe that it was him that Loki was talking about, even though he couldn't stop the hope from rising up inside him.

The video continued, much more animated, after a wild fight, both jumped off the moving train and found themselves walking through a kind of desert towards the energy source they apparently needed to reactivate the tempad.

Mobius saw Loki suddenly stop, looking shocked. But Mobius was unable to hear what they were saying, the sound of the meteors again covering their voices.

Suddenly, Loki shouted louder, "But they don't know that!"

And they began to run.

Mobius could see that Loki was repeating something as he ran, an expression that Mobius had never seen on his face. Like he was worried. But he couldn't hear him. He zoomed in closer to try to read Loki's lips and finally succeeded.

Mobius.

_________

The whole serie here : The story of Loki and Mobius

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

#lokius fic #lokius #lokius rights #time husbands #loki #mobius m mobius #loki spoilers #loki series #moki #wowki #developing relationship #POV Mobius

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secretaryunpaid · 3 years

Text

Losing Crown Princess Eleanor...

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Word Count:1995

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): Emotional and physical trauma, spontaneous abortion, anxiety, abduction

~~~~~

~~~~Barren~~~

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~~~~~ Losing Princess Eleanor… ~~~~~

Riley had learned that she was pregnant less than a month after returning from her honeymoon… She already felt it in her heart, but was afraid to test her theory… she didn’t want to take away from the magical memories she had shared with her loving husband…

Sex on the beach, then sex in the villa, to sex on the flight home… She could never have enough of her husband’s body, nor he hers… But she didn’t want to put him on an emotional rollercoaster with all of the scandalous press that had been published of their love escapades in the waters of the beautifully secluded private island he purchased for her as a wedding gift… one of many she would discover over time.

Liam wanted to spoil his Queen, knowing that she wouldn’t agree to his suggestions of her having property outside of his Valtoria estate that he gifted to her … He never spoke of his time there with Alina… it wouldn’t erase their history… it wouldn’t bring her back… When he found Riley, nothing from his past mattered anymore… or so he’d convinced himself. He went on to secretly purchase islands in the Maldives, along the Amalfi Coast, France, and Monterisso. His plans were to have purchased properties throughout the world for her to escape should she ever tire of her Queenly duties.

Little did he know that the Queen of Spies would be drawn to Cordonia for discussions of an alliance simply because he had purchased a lavish estate for his new bride in her country. He had also found the courage to visit property in Auvernal owned by his deceased mother. His father had hidden this from him, never wanting him to have anything to do with any parts of the country… blaming his refusal to form an alliance with them or implement Eleanor’s joint project requests as the cause for her assassination.

It had been bequeathed to him in her will, but this information had not come to light until Riley uncovered the property deeds and project folder in Eleanor’s secret study. This also drew Queen Isabella and King Bradshaw to Cordonia seeking an alliance as well, especially since their spies had told them Monterisso was approaching for an alliance.

It was shortly after their marriage that the Queen would be abducted and held for the highest ransom Liam would ever have requested of him, his life in return for that of his Queen. He would tell no one of his decision to give his life freely over to his enemy, as he knew that she would probably lose her life in their feeble attempts to prevent his choice.

He would receive a summons from none other than Anton Severus. The images sent with the request immediately caused Liam to vomit. His worst fears were realized before his eyes. Anton had severely beaten Riley, her clothes tattered … her face, filthy and swollen… Anton wasn’t without his own bruises, signifying that his Queen had put up a valiant effort to free herself from her captor. The dried blood stains throughout her torso were sending daggers through Liam’s heart. The last thing removed from the envelope was a flash drive…He opened his laptop, inserting it into the usb port…

Clicking on the folder with much apprehension, it opens to show a video file. Fearing what he may see… Liam decided not to watch, unsure if it was cowardice or fearing that he may act irrationally, endangering Riley’s life even more… He arranges an unmarked car, and exits the castle through a secret passage.

As he makes his way to the destination, Olivia enters his office, having just received word of Riley’s capture. In his haste, Liam failed to lock his desktop which worked to Olivia’s advantage. She saw the peculiar envelope on the desk, her usual curious nature taking control… she removed the contents and her heart wrenched at the sight of the photos… silently vowing to end her unwanted husband’s life.

Olivia places a quick call to the only person that has been able to keep their identity hidden while assisting her during multiple operations. She immediately recognized the former Nevrakis stronghold, amazed that Anton could be so absentminded… or did he wish to be found? Regrettably, she does something Liam didn’t have the courage to do… watch the video content … She immediately loses her footing, feeling immense empathy for Riley hearing her tormentous wailing and muttered cries for Liam… begging him to just let her die… No woman should have to endure this… friend or foe. She takes the drive and other items … not wanting anyone else to know this happened to their beloved Queen.

As she heads to assist in the rescue, the video plays on repeat in her mind… her temper reaching its maximum… calming only when she realizes that Riley sent a message… if not followed to the letter, she and Liam were sure to be dead by the time of her arrival. She immediately calls her second most trusted ally… the Queen of Monterisso. “Amalas, I need your help…” Her former anxiety turned into a sinister excitement… accelerating at higher speeds to quickly reach her destination.

She knew that Anton would have many forces awaiting the King’s arrival, and half expected them to kill him before ever reaching Riley. But she remembered that the Nevrakis' way was to kill their own target, sending clear messages to anyone who heard of their actions, knowing they’d dare not speak a word.

In her rush to cover traces of what was occurring with the King and Queen, she’d failed to notice that Drake had been covertly hiding in the shadows, curious as to why Olivia was exiting the King’s study. He’d heard her place a call to Amalas, and upon her walking a far enough distance not to notice, he peered into the open door, noting that Liam wasn’t present. This prompted him to follow Olivia. He immediately knew that something was up that everyone was trying to keep secret, but he wasn’t going to be left out if Liam needed him.

He also placed a call to Hana to let her know where he was headed should he not happen to return. Someone must know of his whereabouts. Sharing his location with her, she decided to play a bit of a spy queen of her own… one of her many talents being hacking advanced satellite systems and much more. The one thing she had not mastered was driving, so she needed help from someone she knew would want to be involved in this rescue effort… Maxwell Beaumont.

When Amalas and Olivia finally reached a safe enough area to proceed on foot, they were stealthily moving towards an entrance known only to Nevrakis. She knew that these things wouldn’t be shared with Anton, because their golden rule was to only entrust a blood born Nevrakis with this information. She truly hated to share this information with the Spy Queen, but now was not the time to keep to family tradition.

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~~~~~ Just before they were to fight off the remaining guards, exhausted but determined, Drake, Hana and Maxwell appear. It wouldn’t take long to rid themselves of their unwanted interference with rescuing the King and Queen. With Maxwell taking the final guard down, the beautiful stroke of his katana ended the last outside threat.

Once inside, they witness the unfair sword fight ensuing below. Liam outnumbered, but holding his own. Olivia spots Anton Severus, holding a short blade to Riley’s throat, enjoying what looks to be the imminent defeat of Cordonia’s King. Underestimated, Liam stalks toward Anton, sword poised to strike at the moment he reaches him.

His action was halted as he caught a glimpse of blood trickling along Riley’s neck, his only warning that her life would come to an end should he move closer. This was the first time the King faltered, refusing to allow her death at his urging. Anton motions for him to disarm.

Tears flowing, Riley insists that he allow her to die… “Cordonia needs its King… Love, let me go… Please !!!!” Crying, he pleads for his life to be taken instead, falling to his knees in surrender. Sweet victory dripping from the demonic smile spreading across his face, Anton never notices the rescuers descending from above.

Just as he draws his long sword, hoisting it high for a clean slice with the intent to decapitate, Hana sends a blow dart directly into his jugular, the poison immediately having effect… his sword falling away as he clenches his throat. His paralyzed form slumping to the ground. As Hana abhors murder, she only used enough to disarm her enemy, although the effects would take days to wear off.

Liam rushes to Riley, as Olivia frees her from the ropes, careful of any further injury. He kisses her gently, but syncope soon takes over. As he tried to wake her, Olivia noticed the pooling blood. Amalas and Hana do their best to stabilize her as they rush out after Oliva, Drake and Maxwell as Liam carries her protectively…

Once everyone is in a vehicle, Drake drives full speed until Amalas can give him an ETA on the Life-flight she requested. Once she has coordinates, they arrive minutes later with emergency crew standing at the ready. Liam has to be pulled from her side constantly as they try to assess her. With everyone aboard, they are airlifted to the nearest Lythikos facility. But the Crown Princess would make her untimely arrival prior to landing… Everyone aboard witnessing the despair overtaking the King as he held Riley close, shaking his head no at her pleading looks… preventing her from trying to reach her still born princess, not caring about the treatment they were trying to give her. Her fight would not last long, as she loses consciousness before the King’s terrified eyes.

She would spend weeks in the private wing, Liam by her side. Amalas, Olivia, Drake, Maxwell and Hana never leaving watch outside the inner room. Anton remained under heavy sedation deep within Olivia’s keep, supervised by her fiercest and loyal guards, awaiting Liam’s orders.

During their time there, the grieving monarchs were like two normal parents who’d suffered this tremendous loss. Liam held Riley as she recounted all of the things they would not get to do with their “Elly”...

Never getting to sit in the dandelion fields as she loved to do as a child, watching the seeds blow away in the wind… running with the wind flowing through her hair. Never standing over her specialty crib they’d so lovingly selected together as excited as if she would be laying soundly inside as soon as it was assembled in the nursery… Never watching her stare at the paintings Riley spent hours muraling along her wall, with special ordered paints that would shine as the lighted mobile shone upon it as it turned… revealing the hidden treasures within the design. Never watching her fall asleep as her loving father sang the beautiful lullaby his mother sang to him for all of her time with him…

When that dreaded time came, Liam and Riley would have their first moment of time before their little one’s memorial tomb… telling of their love for her still and how much they wanted to watch her grow to be as fierce a leader as they’d become… It would be soon after that Liam would suffer a second tragedy, the fall into postpartum depression he would fight continually to help his wife overcome… feeling the same emotions as his beloved wife, only in a fatherly way…

It would be an announcement like none other… Not the expectation of Cordonia’s first female heir in centuries, but the tragic loss… It would be a Kingdom mourning as one...

~~~~~~~~

The Queen Returns, Summoned...

#@trr #@secretaryunpaid #@TNA-TRR crossover #@Becoming Mrs. Dalton #choices the royal romance #king liam #@Queen Riley Rhys

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alecmagnuslwb · 3 years

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If I Didn’t Love Him, I’d Kill Him

Read on AO3

“He did what?” Zatanna says through gritted teeth. Andrew, Boston, Swamp Thing, Xanadu and Etrigan all physically recoil at her rage.

“He said he knew how to stop this, but it was dangerous. We tried to stop him from leaving but he made the house trap us all in,” Xanadu explains. The only reason they’re not trapped now is the house likes Zatanna better than anyone and had let her back in with no question.

She was gone for no more than twenty minutes following a lead that might stop the demon Trigon from rising, she has a plan. An actual plan that will keep Raven safe from Trigon’s wrath and that isn’t even all that dangerous.

But of course John’s decided to follow the dangerous plan, the plan that involves going straight to the source and likely getting killed in the process.

“I’m going to kill him,” she says brushing past everyone and rushing into the study. She pulls a map down from the wall and hovers her hand over it.

“Dnif nhoJ enitnatsnoC,” she says a shower of golden light falling down from her fingers. It circles once, twice then settles onto the map a 3D shape of the motel he’s seemingly hold up in growing up from the map.

“Eduig em ot mih,” she says the light settling into a ball and hovering before her heading for the door. She stomps after it. “Found him, be right back,” she says to the group pulling up a portal and stepping through it.

She spots Andrew from the corner of her eye an arm reaching out and grabbing her wrist. She comes through on the other side to a motel lit up bright and neon in the night Andrew right beside her. The glowing ball shimmers away and goes up into the sky its job done.

“I got this,” she says making her way to the main entrance.

Andrew nods. “I know you do, but I’m just here to prevent bloodshed.”

Zatanna shoots a look over her shoulder at him, a look he reads correctly.

“Yeah I know vampire, bloodshed, irony,” he grumbles pulling open the door for her the bell jingling as he does.

The woman at the front desk barely spares them a glance a severe look on her face that says she hasn’t known joy in many years.

“How many rooms?” she drones.

“We don’t need any rooms,” Zatanna says and the woman loses complete interest turning her head back down to a magazine flipping through it idly.

“I need to find my partner, he’s a little over 6 ft, sandy blonde hair, trench coat, absolute idiot,” Zatanna explains.

“I can’t give out guest information,” she says blandly.

“Okay, I get that, but it’s an emergen-”

“Don’t care, I can’t give out guest information.”

“Just one check-”

“I cannot give out guest information,” the woman stresses one last time looking up at Zatanna and Andrew with an endlessly annoyed expression.

Zatanna sighs pushing back from the front desk running a frustrated hand through her hair. She understands this woman’s position, but she just really needs her to break the rules right now. She looks her over trying to find something, some sort of weak spot she could use to appeal to this woman’s sensitive side or even if it comes to it bribe her.

She notices the untanned portion of her ring finger where clearly for many years a wedding ring used to rest. She takes a gamble, guessing it didn’t end well in the hopes to appeal to this severe woman’s scorned wife side.

“Play along with it,” she whispers to Andrew before working her not literal, but hopefully just as successful magic on this woman. “Miss can I just-”

She pauses choking on her words a bit, trying her damndest to build up some crocodile tears. The woman turns back around that seemingly perpetually annoyed look on her face still.

“I know he’s in there with another one. First my best friend and now,” she chokes up again a little tear escaping her right eye. “Who knows, some girl from a bar, another guy from work.”

The woman’s face softens just a bit for the first time. Zatanna drops her head in her hands.

“I was so stupid, to believe him after the first time,” she hiccups. “But I trusted him and here I am again, begging someone to let me into a room to catch him in the act.”

“I feel so stupid,” she says faux angry at herself. She manages to force another single tear from her eye as she looks back up at the front desk woman, who now looks wholly sympathetic. Bingo.

“You’re not stupid sweetheart, you just wanted to see the best in the person you love. I’ve been there,” the woman says rubbing a hand comfortingly up and down Zatanna’s bicep. She gives her arm one last pat then turns to the wall of keys pulling one down.

“He was way too much of a smooth talker, should have known,” she says turning Zatanna’s hand over and placing the key in her palm. “Go get the son of a bitch,” she says fierce and determined handing Zatanna a tissue and what looks like a gymnast’s baton.

“What’s this for?” she asks wiping the fake tears from beneath her eyes.

The woman leans in conspiratorially, giving Andrew the stink eye. He backs away from the desk hands up in innocence.

“If you end up hittin’ him with this a few times, well you won’t hear a cop siren because of me,” she says with a wink pushing the baton towards Zatanna.

Zatanna has to physically hold back her laughter to keep herself in the role of the sad scorned partner. She almost feels bad for this woman’s ex-husband who no doubt is familiar with this baton or some variation of it.

“Thank you,” she says with a sad smile taking the baton in hand. She pushes off the desk and makes her way to the door, Andrew in step alongside her. She looks at the room number on the key and makes a beeline directly for the odd numbered rooms.

“You’re holding that baton quite tightly,” Andrew observes as he keeps up with her rapid pace. “Are you thinking about using it despite the fact John is not the cheating son of a bitch the front desk woman believes him to be?”

“It’s crossed my mind,” she says loosening her grip on the weapon. She stops at the door marked seventeen and flips the key in her hand. She holds the baton out for Andrew to take, he does so holding onto it just in case.

She slips the key into the lock and pushes open the door startling John to stand from where he’s carving sigils into his chest. He looks up at her, a bit of genuine fear in his eyes.

“Oh, fuck, you found me,” he sighs dropping the runed magically enhanced blade in his hand.

“Yeah, I found you dumbass,” she says walking up to him. She pokes him once right on the fresh sigil.

“Ouch,” he says putting a hand over the sigil to protect it from her.

“Just be glad she didn’t use the baton,” Andrew says from behind them waving it in the air. John eyes it warily then looks back at Zatanna that fear still present in his eyes.

“Look, Zee, I can explain,” he says holding up his hands.

“You don’t need to explain that you’re a self-sacrificing idiot who acts first and thinks second,” she says with an almost forgiving looking smile that makes John drops his arms to the side. She makes good use of John dropping his defenses and pokes him in the chest again. He curls back covering his chest protectively again.

“I have an actual plan, one that won’t involve your death at the hands of a thousand-foot-tall demon so,” she turns to Andrew and points at him. “You go return that baton to the nice lady upfront and tell her I used it well, that should make her smile.”

He salutes her backing out of the door.

“And you,” she says pointing directly at John’s face. “Never come back here, because the woman at the front desk thinks you’re a serial two timer,” she says pausing at John’s look of offence.

“Hey, you run off to be an idiot and I have to swindle my way into a room key you don’t get a good backstory,” she says with shrug.

John sighs in defeat accepting it.

“Now, put on your shirt and prepare whatever apology you’re absolutely going to give me shortly so we can go home and actually deal with the situation at hand in a smart, thought-out way. Got it?” she says raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms.

“Got it, luv,” John says swallowing hard once.

“Make sure the apology is damn good, I had to fake cry to get a key to this room and I hate doing that,” she says pointedly stepping back out of the room waiting for what she hopes will be just a little bit of groveling.

#my fic #johnzee #john constantine #zatanna zatara #writersmonth2021 #magicblazersource

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zodiyack · 3 years

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The Unforgivable Curses

Requested by @e-b-immortal: How about a witch reader x tommy shelby again But she just save john with magic and kill the enemies

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Witch!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, magic, murder, death, spoilers?, angst

Words: 1,320

Summary: (See Request)

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @simonsbluee, @peakysputain, @cai-neki, @darling-i-read-it, @fandom-puff, @jenepleurepasbaby, @marquelapage, @thewarriorprincessxo, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @peakyxtommy

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

I believe the witch reader concept started here

Watching what would have been her brother-in-law’s death was mortifying. Tommy sent her to watch over his cousin and brother, her secret no longer a secret helping him in his decision making, and she soon agreed with his point. His original concern had to do with the black hands, hers now related to the uneasiness her gut held. It was too...weird.

Nothing was “normal” in her life, but this was a different kind of peculiar. This was an evil kind of peculiar.

Like time was moving in slow motion, her head whipped around to spot a gun beginning to rise. It was all the time she needed to simply whip out her wand and apparate in front of John then grab him and Michael and apparate out of the way. Esme was already out of their line of fire, so she was safe and didn’t require saving. The gypsy woman watched her sister-in-law with wide eyes that contained a pleasant mix of horror and awe. Y/n grinned before ducking down to dodge a bullet that flew at her head.

The bullet she dodged had just slightly grazed John’s shoulder. It still caught him off guard enough to cause panic to emit from his mouth. A loud cry rang through Y/n’s ears and summoned a beast inside her, one Newt had yet to discover. Her wizard friend was too far away to make the discovery now though.

“Arresto momentum!” Her spell made the unrealistic rate of speed real. Time really was moving in slow motion. She watched as every bullet moved slower than a sloth. The Shelbys, and Gray, behind her held three equal doses of confusion but their amusement was fleeting

The thing was, she wasn’t done yet. A darkness clouded her eyes.

Of course, Esme had been filled in on the different spells and what they could do, Tommy and the rest of the family as well, but Esme was the most observant involving the craft. She felt her skin pale and her heart drop to her stomach when she realized what was going to happen next. Tempted to reach out for her sister in law, had she not held back by her husband, she screamed.

“Don’t do it! It’s not worth it, there are different ways! Muggle ways!”

“What are you talking about, Esme?” John narrowed his eyes at his wife.

She turned to her husband with an urgent pleading expression. “Remember? The unforgivable curses, dumbass!” Esme swatted at him but quickly gave up. She was wasting time. “Y/n said that witches and wizards usually are corrupted by the fuckin’ dark curses! She swore to never take part in them!”

John gulped. He developed Esme’s fearful exterior within seconds, exchanging glances with Michael and then running at the same time as his cousin to Y/n.

“What the hell are you doing!? Get off!” She tried to nudge Michael away softly, but his grip on her wand wielding wrist never relented. “Don’t make me do this.” A sincere warning that he ignored yet again. Her other hand grabbed the wand and aimed it towards Michael, “Depulso!”

Michael began moving backwards. He looked to John with a stern nod of his head. They would do everything in their power to prevent Y/n from losing her innocence in her magic. However, Y/n was quick to spot him, flipping her aim as she shouted, “Depulso!”

Fortunately, John observed her when she did the same to Michael. He dodged it and continued pacing forward. Every shout of the spell he managed to just barely miss. Unfortunately, Y/n had now observed John.

“Incarcerous!” Ropes flew at the blinder and tied with unimaginable strength. He was left tied up and shouting, no way to stop Y/n. The shouts only quieted for a moment. A moment in which Y/n gave John a soft empathetic look before turning and following through with her plan. The look told him wordlessly that this was the only way. To trust her.

“Expelliarmus!” The guns flew in every which way, the slow motion’s affect drawing out a small snicker from John. Which elicited a glare from Esme.

The slow motion spell lingered away with the guns, and the men previously holding them looked around desperately. Some men jumped off to grab their weapons once they’d spotted their spots on the ground, but were practically thrown- the literal effect of the spell- back by the words murmured by Y/n.

“Everte statum!” Esme held her breath subconsciously. Y/n had yet to speak the one spell she told the group that she so greatly despised. She had yet to corrupt herself. “Expulso!” The guns broke apart, exploding where they lied, thus preventing the enemies from using their weapons.

Time returned to it’s feeling. The spell was no longer there, but they swore time had slowed again. Esme almost whipped her head around to Y/n to ask what she’d done until she noticed it wasn’t the spell.

It was like a film in the theatre; an entire movie that felt like it went on for years when really it was no more than an hour. A film that flashed the mafia’s life before their own eyes, the four across from them just characters they never asked for. A film that would be their last.

“Avada kedavra!” The words left her mouth with only slight hesitation. She convinced herself it was the only way, a repetition of the phrase to herself was the small nudge she needed to give into the curse and kill the men in front of her and her family.

A few moments passed, Y/n unmoving, standing in the same spot for the small bit of time before she turned and walked to John. “Let me see your shoulder.”

“What? No!”

Esme swatted his arm, “Let her see it, you fucking bloody idiot!”

He groaned before extending his arm and moving his night shirt over the wounded shoulder. A wince left his mouth as the cold air nipped at his bloody skin on display. “Vulnera sanentur.” The pain was gone and his wound was slowly mending itself.

Y/n turned and removed herself from their conversation for the second time. She sat upon the stairs, arm resting on her lap and her cheek held up by her palm. Esme watched with a furrow of her brows. She felt bad for Y/n, afraid even. When they’d discussed spells together, the mention of the killing curse had spooked Y/n.

It was a joke, at first. Esme was jabbing at the Blinders’ work, but then a question involving the killing part of the job popped up. Y/n assured her over and over that it wasn’t her fault, but now she couldn’t help but feel a massive wave of guilt. Y/n had just preformed the one spell she said she could never bring herself to do. Had she truly been corrupted? Was her warning true? Was she not an exception of dark magic’s addicting ways?

“It isn’t over, you know? They’re still out there, and from the looks of it, they don’t plan on walking away.” Y/n spoke up, startling the three.

“Well... What are we gonna do about it?”

“Whatever we can. We’ll think of something with the rest when we get back. For now right now though,” she paced around the property, “rather- before we leave, I have to do something. In fact, I’ll do it wherever we deem necessary.” Her in lawed siblings and cousin waited for more context in her explanation before they heard a familiar spell.

The spell was one she did when they were threatened a different time. The threat was not as big as their current but it was just as, if not a little less, serious. They’d engraved the spell in their minds, thankful to its usefulness, for how grateful they’d been that it exists.

A warm feeling took hold of them; Y/n wasn’t corrupted. Y/n was determined.

“Protego totalum.” (protection spell)

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gabenathreversebang · 3 years

Text

GabeNath Reverse Bang 2020 Masterpost

Lady in Blue

When Gabriel akumatizes Audrey again, it goes awry and backfires on him. When he, Ladybug and Chat Noir are compromised, Nathalie decides it’s time for her to take matters into her own hands.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Changing Hearts and Changing Tides

The Agreste boys and their plus one, Nathalie, have decided to spend the week in a cabin by the coast. While Gabriel tries to mend his fractured relationship with Adrien, Nathalie is more or less there to keep the peace, but she soon finds herself out of her depth. With emotions shifting as frequently as the tide can the trio band together and take strides towards the future, or will they be swept out to sea and left hanging?

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Your Sword and Shield

The last time the Graham de Vanilys showed up to the Agreste mansion, they proved they are not to be trusted. Nathalie should have known Amelie would go to treacherous lengths to get under her skin. After a tense confrontation and the shocking reveal of a new villain, Nathalie must step into a new role to protect the one she loves.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

A Moment of Reflection

After a particularly upsetting defeat, Gabriel is feeling like it might be time to throw in the butterfly brooch and move on. Nathalie tries to encourage him to continue but even she has some reservations about the idea. The two have a heart to heart over some brandy and learn things about each other.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

well, of course i’ve tried lavender

K O E L N @archekoeln you think, i didn’t know mayura was the type to resort to something like this? but you’re wrong, because now you’re being carried like a sack of potatoes above paris and, 3/11

K O E L N @archekoeln well, the view’s nice and all but you’re also in the arms of a villain??? 4/11

K O E L N @archekoeln you also think, how is she so strong??? because you know you aren’t as light as a feather (haha i’m funny) and her arms are skinny af, but you know, magic i guess 5/11

An online thread about Mayura sparks something in Gabriel. And as her boss (and friend, and villainous partner, and her something), isn’t it his job to… to do what exactly? Well, even he doesn’t know.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Not All Heroes Wear Capes

Superheroes, in daily life, usually remained hidden. Men and women, bestowed with god-like powers, living among those whose only powers remained in their knowledge and talents. One of these heroes was Mayura, a peacock-themed superheroine with the power to create new life. As more laborers were going on strike, Mayura’s efforts to keep the economy from deflating were more crucial than ever. Because of her, livelihoods were kept intact for the destitute. For the corporate overlords, however, she was the bane of their luxurious existence. But what does this mean to Gabriel Agreste?

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Broken Arrow

Ordinary innkeeper Nathalie is plagued with visions of a captive Gabriel, begging for help. She sets out to recruit his son Adrien, the Demigod of Love, to aid her in freeing Gabriel from Emilie, the goddess of beauty. But Nathalie doesn’t know the secret that Adrien keeps from her that may tear them all apart.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Gabriel’s Inferno

Nothing seemed to predict how it all would end, and yet it had to have been obvious. It had been weeks since Mayura’s last appearance and he didn’t even let her go out to fight in person, but a broken miraculous doesn’t get carried away by precautions once it’s activated. With Nathalie balancing between life and death, Gabriel will have the opportunity to fix things or lose himself forever in a hellish battle that will overcome all nightmares.

Fanfic (English), archived Fanfic (Spanish), archived Art, archived

If I Could Turn Back Time

Gabriel and Nathalie obtain the rabbit miraculous and travel into the paths of time as Velveteen and Mayura, with the goal of preventing the chain of events that would lead to Emilie’s death. But on their way to Tibet, they encounter surprising visions of possible futures that leave them questioning what is possible and what they really want.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

This is Hallowe’en

With All Hallow’s Eve hanging over their heads, the Agreste household gets wrapped into celebrating Samhain. With Gabriel and Adrien following Nathalie’s knowledgeable path, they can not fail, probably. This moderately functional family will honor Emilie Agreste in the best ways they can.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Malleable Fates

A red thread starts materializing around Gabriel’s finger nearly two decades after he’s already found his soulmate. As he and Nathalie devise a faultless plan to finally win Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous and bring back his wife, Gabriel fights the onslaught of confusing feelings brought about the mysterious reappearance of his soulmate string - including the sneaking suspicion that his soulmate maybe isn’t who she used to be.

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The Splintered Soul Staring Back At Me

In the aftermath of the battle and a brief hospital stay, Nathalie is safe at home. Her recovery has been a bit stagnant, but she’s been granted leave from work and the miraculous is finally fixed. Things can only go up from here, right?

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

With the Flap of a Butterfly’s Wing

It only took one little thing, the barest of moments, for Duusu to feel their love, and decide that they had to do something about it. Which was how Duusu ended up roping Nooroo into trying everything under the sun to match up their two stubborn holders.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

The Orders He Defies

After her husband’s death, Nathalie Sancoeur fell into deep despair. Determined to bring him back, she set her goal on obtaining the Black Cat and Ladybug miraculous, using the power of her own one. All her attempts for the last year, however, were futile. Should she remain careful? Or should she let it all burn, as her assistant Gabriel suggests she should? And is the goal even worth its price?

Fanfic (English), archived Fanfic (Ukranian), archived Art, archived

Royal Pain

Nathalie liked to think that she would make a pretty good king. If she had been born as the opposite sex, anyways. But as the facts were, Princess Nathalie Sancoeur had a duty thrust upon her that she would rather have not, all things considered: to be married to a foreign prince, in order to bring good fortune to her family and kingdom, and bolster their strength should the rapidly-cooling relations with one of the neighboring countries turn into a full-blown war. It was enough to make her gag every time she thought of it.

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Dancing on Broken Glass

It was Lila that almost reduced Paris to rubble.It was that conflict that caused an irreversible change to two miraculous holders.It was that change that brought them together.

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Anagnorisis

«Define Hubris»

Gabriel never considered how much a Deus Ex Machina would cost.

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Worth

It’s been seventeen years since Nathalie and Gabriel sat in the cramped studio working hard to get the brand off the ground, and now he can’t help but reflect on those long-forgotten years.

Before Emilie. Before Adrien. Before the money and fame.

As he looks at her across his desk… he wonders if it was all worth it.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

A Witch’s Desire

Gabriel Agreste was a peculiar man, who was known around town both as a famous fashion designer and a powerful witch who was able to read and control minds, though he never used that second power unless there was a real emergency. Heck, he barely even used the first. But after losing his wife, Gabriel becomes desperate to do anything he can to bring her back, even that means using his powers for evil, or tracking down a mysterious powerful witch who had disappeared many years ago, with the power to bring the dead back to life.

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Not a Minute of Peace

Even though the akuma wants to shackle them, the Collector and Catalyst have more freedom than Gabriel and Nathalie ever had. They may be criminals turned into prey, but they enjoy the hunt. There is only one thing they are running from.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Revision

Nathalie made the wish.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

The Woman With The Golden Feathers

The annual Bourgeois masquerade comes at the right time for Gabriel. In a moment of personal uncertainty after his discreet divorce, he will find the possible answer in a mysterious lady with golden feathers.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

Time and Time Again

The stress of being a young designer trying to make it in the fashion industry is taking its toll, and Gabriel’s and Nathalie’s marriage is slowly unraveling.

They’ve stood the tests of life since their first year of university, but when everything comes crashing down, Gabriel finds himself stuck reliving the day it happened. Failing and falling, time and time again with every passing ‘day’. Why is he here? How can he stop it? The answer lies in a choice as to what matters more: his career or the woman who has stood by him through it all.

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Clarity

A year after Hawkmoth’s surrender, Gabriel asks Nathalie to join him to gaze at the stars. While she waits for him, she contemplates the empty space left by the removal of the portrait from the foyer hall. Growth ensues for them both as they learn to just be by each other’s side.

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C’est la Vie; C’est le Ballet

After the death of his wife, upstart choreographer Gabriel Agreste is looking for a new star for his ballet, Miraculous. Hard to please and willing to do whatever it takes for the sake of the show, none of the auditionees fit his artistic vision…

…except Nathalie, a former prima ballerina turned ballet instructor. She’s stoic and very dedicated to her craft, but there’s a reason she stopped performing four years ago and it has dangerous potential.

Through the trials and triumphs and betrayals that run hand in hand with the world of ballet, Gabriel and Nathalie begin to find something more in each other’s company, and perhaps the seeds of new beginnings.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

I’m Praying (There’s Saving)

It was to be Gabriel’s first party on Olympus, but little did he know it would also be the last. Not only for him, but for everyone. In the blink of an eye everything changed, sending the god of nature and his newborn son to take refuge with the Queen of the Dead. They thought they were safe, but even the depths of the underworld couldn’t escape the King’s wrath forever.

Fanfic, archived Art, archived

#gabenath reverse bang #gabenath events #gabenath #miraculous ladybug #reverse bang #gabenath reverse bang 2020 #masterpost 2020

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poundstonaira · 3 years

Text

Fuegoleon x Reader - The Future and Beyond

i wrote this back in 2019 so expect this to be cringe. dont say i didnt warn you.

S/N- Squad Name L/N- Last Name F/N- First Name E/C- Eye Color word count: 1700+

*Y/N’s P.O.V*

This is the third time today. This is the third time I’m at the toilet, throwing up all my food.

Why?

Was it food poisoning? Did I drink alcohol? What it alcohol poisoning? I couldn’t because I don’t drink alcohol at all, as the head of House (L/N) and the Wife of Fuegoleon Vermillion, I can’t let myself loose. I’ve never tasted it. Ever.

After I finish throwing up, the taste of acid and the feeling of lumpy food lingers in my mouth. I brush my teeth for the fourth time today. When I finish, I feel like the bathroom is spinning.

Yeah… something is wrong with me, I’ll have to ask Mimosa or someone with healing magic when I have time.

-Timeskip

Luckily, I was able to spot Mimosa here in the hallways of the base, I wonder what she's doing here today.

“Hello, Mimosa. How are you today?” I give her my usual nonchalant, calm face.

She flashes me her usual innocent smile. “I’m fine, and you?”

Okay, this is the time to tell her how your feeling...this might be your only chance.

“So, Mimosa, I haven’t been feeling well recently, “ I start, as she looks at me with curiosity as I’m starting to feel dizzy again, “I keep on throwing up...I feel very dizzy, I’m always getting sleepy, my breasts are feeling more tender and bigg-”

“Your breasts were getting bigger? Weren’t they always big?”

THIS AIRHEADED LITTLE DOOFUS! YOU CAN’T SAY STUFF LIKE THAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALLWAYS! AND HAS SHE SEEN HERSELF? SHE HAS MELLONS ON HER CHEST.

UGH.

From her comment about my chest, I feel a tick-mark summoning from my temple, hoping that I can control myself from these mood swings I’ve been getting, I try not to raise my voice so that I don’t get a headache.

“Shh! You know the Crimson Lions are filled with the majority of men! You don’t know if there are perverted men here, Mimosa!” I quickly whisper to her so that no one heard that.

“Ohh! Sorry, I was just pointing that out.”

Yeah. In the middle of the hallways. That definitely makes sense.

“Anyways, may you please come to my room? I need you to see what’s wrong with me private.” I sigh.

“Sure. I’m always here to help!” She flashes me her normal smile before walking we both walk into my shared bedroom.

Timeskip

We are currently at my desk in my bedroom so that Mimosa can see what the issue is. All I hope is that Fuegoleon comes in here and see her checking on my breast to which she is now squeezing. I’m not even sure what is more painful right now, this headache which is now killing me or Mimosa’s hands squeezing the living shit out of my breasts.

Why can’t she just a spell? Is this what her family taught her? This is brutal as shit! I feel like my breasts are getting ripped apart!

Mimosa uses one of her support spells to see if I have any sickness. I keep looking up at her facial expression to see if there is anything wrong or strange. After a few minutes, I see her facial expression change from focussed to shocked.

“Mrs. Y/N, have you had...sex recently?” She whispered as she looked to the door to see if anyone is coming in and then at me again.

Did I have sex recently? Last time I had sex with Fuego was...maybe four weeks ago? Don’t remember to be honest.

Wait.

Ohhh SHIITITITTITI!

“Umm...about three weeks ago. Why?” I tilt my head nervously.

She closes her grimoire as she stands up and sighs happily.

“Congratulations.” She replied with a graceful smile on her face.

“You’re going to become a mother.”

-Another timeskip!

“You’re going to become a mother.” “You’re going to become a mother.” “You’re going to become a mother.”

That same sentence that Mimosa said before finally walking off to do her errands really...shock me but at the same time I’m...terrified. I don’t know anything about being a parent, especially since being royalty, everything matters and once the families find out, they are going to be looking at me. Yes. Me. The oldest sibling of house (L/N) and the Captain of (S/N). So here I am, at 8:30 at night, sitting on the edge of my shared bed, literally shaking, holding my head so I can prevent myself from losing my mind even more, and most importantly, trying to figure out how the hell am I going to tell Fuegoleon.

I wonder what I’m going to do. I’m paranoid because how I am I going to run my squad? I know I have siblings who are very responsible and that take my place but, how would that affect everyone? Is everyone going to be ashamed of me? Am I going to punished by mother and father? Will...Fuegoleon be mad at me? Will he divorce me? Will everyone lose my trust? Will everyone...abandon me?

All of this is really stressful. I’ve never taken care of a child before. I don’t know what I’m going to do, and I’m not sure if my servants can help me.

But didn’t Fuegoleon want a child? Didn’t he say that it would be good to start a family for the future and beyond? This is too much for me...

To get all of this out of my mind, I decided to take a nap, hoping that I can wake up from this nightmare of anxiety.

Another timeskip!

“Y/N…” I hear a familiar voice call out to me.

Is that Fuegy?

“Hmm?”

“Wake up, it’s Fuegoleon.”

No. Not now. Please. He is the last person I want to see, God please don’t do this to me.

“Who?” I managed to groan.

“It’s Fuegoleon, my love. Remember me? I’m your husband.” He chuckles as he runs his fingers through my silky, smooth, (H/C) hair.

Kill me.

“Ohh…” I yawn, sitting myself up.

“Are you okay? You didn’t show up at (S/N) headquarters, did something happen?” He asks me as crawls into bed, and reading his book. At that, I sigh.

This is going to be hard. I’m not really good at explaining things because I really don’t talk a lot; Especially in a new situation like this, I haven’t really explained any of my issues to anyone because of how quiet I am and, usually the problems I have are minor. But, I’m pregnant this time, and I have to remember, this is my husband, this is the love of my life, my best friend. I can tell him anything...right?

“So...Fuego?” I heaved a sigh.

“Yes, my love?” He focuses on his book, flipping the page.

“Do you remember when I said that I haven’t been feeling well for the past couple of weeks?” I managed to breathe out.

“Mmhmmm.” He hums, still focusing on his book.

“Well...”I breath out nervously.

I have never been so nervously in my life. Why am I so scared to tell him that I’m pregnant? Shouldn’t I be an optimist about this?

“I…” I start again, it seems like he sees the fear in my eyes and the trouble in my voice.

“What’s wrong, my love? Did something happen?” I hear the concern in his voice he stops from reading his book and turns to put his hand on my shoulder.

“I...met up with Mimosa today to see what’s wrong with me...she t-told me...I’m...pregnant…” I manage to breathe out on the last word.

I did it. I did it. I did it. Holy shit I’m scared. Please don’t be mad at me Fuegy!!!!

He silently stares at me for a moment in shock. His beautiful plum eyes staring into my soft E/C eyes.

“Thank goodness!” He pulls me into a loving hug, literally giving me no space to breathe because of the space between my face and his muscular chest.

“Wait..you’re not angry!?” I manage to ask in his chest.

“Why would I be? It was me who said that we should have children and...I kind of took advantage of you that night by accident, I honestly didn’t regret at all actually, “He chuckles as bit, “I was hoping for the twenty-three years that I’ve known you, I could have children with you, spend my life with you, come to you when something is wrong, make love with you, and have a family with you. I love you that much, Y/N.” He sniffles as he puts his head on my head.

Honestly…I’m at a loss for words.

From the way he has been acting, I thought he was going to be mad at me, he has been acting so hostile. Ever since we got married, he would come back from his mission, he’d look so exhausted, and he wouldn’t speak to me, I would ask him how his day was, it would be the usual: “Fine, just tired.” But now, since he divulged his feelings since he found out I’m pregnant, I have found out that he really cared for the whole time, he just didn’t know how to say it.

I nudge him, getting him to release me from his tightass hug. I jump on to him as I look at his vibrant, plum eyes one more time before smashing my lips onto his, his callous hands move down my back as mine just stay at both sides of his head as we still give in to the passionate kiss, our tongues still fighting for dominance.

Maybe sometimes I shouldn’t keep things to myself, maybe I should be more confident about the future and beyond.

We pull apart with a string of saliva as we pant for our breaths back.

“I love you, Y/N.” Fuegoleon says he pulls me in for another hug.

“I love you too, Fuegoleon, and from now on, I’m going to be more confident for the future and beyond.

#black clover #black clover x reader #fuegoleon vermillion #black clover scenarios #fuegoleon x reader #fuegoleon vermillion x reader

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notyetneedcoffee · 3 years

Text

Soul Seer, pt. 15

Loki Master List

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: just fluff!

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.

Your fingers trailed along the steel frame of the wall of windows lining the walkway. Outside the sun gave the illusion of warmth, even though you knew it was cold. For the moment you aimlessly wondered, having free time before meeting with Steve and Natasha. You’d begun learning to fight a few months back.

Since staying at the Compound, Loki spent most of his days working with Banner, occasionally meeting over video conference in disguise with the other members of the worldwide team Stark put together to plan the energy migration. There was a lot of work to be done, and it needed to happen at human pace… or at least a Stark and Banner pace… because Loki was supposed to be dead.

A flash startled you from your musings. Out in the lawn now stood Thor, looking serious. His eyes moved quickly about, and when they landed on you a bright smile lit his face. Odd, you thought the windows were solid black from the outside.

Thor pointed to the end of the building. You knew a door led outside there, so you began to walk in that direction. His long strides allowed him to be inside and climbing the open stairs to the second floor. His booming voice echoed down the hall as soon as he saw you.

“Ah! Lady Y/N!” He smiled. “How fare you?”

“Well,” You accepted his warm hug. “I’m doing well here.”

“And my brother?”

“Way better than I ever would have thought.” Steve Rogers’ voice interjected from the stairs. “When did you get here?”

“Just now.” The two shared a back slapping greeting.

“Come on down,” Steve motioned to the elevator with a tilt of his head.

The three of you descended to the lower laboratories of the complex. You could see Bruce leaning against a work table, one arm wrapped around his middle and the other hand rubbing his forehead. Loki paced the room talking animatedly with his hands.

He wore your favorite dark green silk shirt. It always made you want to rub against him. You paused at the door, admiring his graceful strides. Bruce must have thought your hesitation was something else, because he waved you in and met you at the glass sliding door.

“We’re just on audio.” He spoke quietly.

Loki argued with someone on the line about power consumption. His voice, not his own, sounded higher and with a distinct eastern seaboard accent. “I can assure you, Mr. Archer, this solution is not a temporary one. The need for your power plants to run on fossils will be forever obsolete.”

“If you think we’re going to leave our shareholders hanging while…” The anger in the man’s voice was unmistakable.

“This guy just won’t buy in.” Bruce rolled his eyes.

Loki saw you and waved you closer. Your arms automatically slid around his waist as his right arm pulled you closer. His body language looked calm and relaxed. He felt calm and relaxed to you. However, his voice held an all to human tension when he spoke. “I don’t want to call in the Council, Mr. Archer.”

This set the man off again. Loki just grinned.

“I’ll be calling the Secretary of Energy and Senator Rowlins about this.”

“Please do.” Loki replied. “Let them explain it you. You need to remember we’re offering this five year transition period and incentive package so your shareholders won’t unduly suffer. But if you refuse to adapt your plant to the new technology obtained from the alien research, or some other form of renewable energy, you’ll just be forced out of the game.”

“Do not dictate to me, young man!”

“No, I’m just pointing out your choices. Adapt or die, that’s the way of things. You’re being offered good recompence and decent amount of time. The Council could just release this technology tomorrow. What would that do you shareholdings?” Loki grinned.

You absently rubbed you fingers over his silk clad stomach. He loved this, upsetting these people’s world order, causing chaos in their shelter selfish worlds. It fed his mischievous nature.

“You’ll be hear from our lawyers!”

“Can’t wait.” Loki touched a button, ending the call. He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Miss me, my pet?”

“Always.” You grinned.

Thor and Steve watched the two of you from the hall. Cap leaned a little closer, whispering. “I think he really likes making all these world industry leaders dance.”

“What is the Midgardian saying? He’s using his powers for good?” Thor whispered back.

Steve chuckled. “I s’pose.”

“I never thought I would see him so calm.” Thor mused.

“Oh, he gets in a rage, gets frustrated.” Steve buried his hands in his pockets. “But it blows over, and he keeps his word, and so long as she’s safe… that keeps him… balanced.”

Thor nodded, lifting a hand when Loki’s eyes turned to him. A frown crossed the darker brother’s face. He pulled away from you and walked out to the hall. You followed.

“Thor.”

“Brother.”

They stared at one another. Finally, you broke the silence. “What brings you around? Everything okay? Or is this just a social visit.”

“Father asked me to come.” You felt Loki tense, but gave no indication as Thor continued. “Heimdall has been keeping his eyes on you and reporting on your activities.”

“If Heimdall is watching, then why send you?” He snapped.

“Loki.” You frowned, looking up at him. “Did you mean that to be as rude as it sounded?”

Thor’s brow arched in surprise. Steve bit his lip to hold back a grin, he learned chuckling at the way you corrected Loki was disastrous for everyone.

Loki looked down at your scowl and blew out air through his nose. “It’s old habits, I suppose.” He turned his eyes back to Thor, rewording his question. “So, what is it that Father wants?”

Though not an apology, the God of Thunder could scarcely believe his brother allowed you to admonish him, much less that he would heed your words. He knew the two of you shared a bond, knew that you’d touched each other’s minds. But, he could feel this was different.

“Perhaps we should discuss this in private.” Thor began to venture.

“You might as well spit it out, brother.” Loki rolled his eyes. “I’m not granted anything as privileged as privacy here.” Then he smirked. “Besides, there is no one in this company who would betray a trust.”

Thor crossed his arms and shrugged. “Father sent me, but it was a mother’s bidding.”

“What of mother?” Loki became instantly more in tune. You knew how he felt for her, knew how he missed her.

“She says something rare has occurred, says she can feel it in her magic.” Thor gave a lopsided grin. “Now that I’m here, I think she’s right.”

“What? Dammit, get to the point!”

“She says you’ve taken a mate.”

Loki’s mouth fell open. You and Steve looked at each other, confused. You never said in traditional words but no one doubted that you and Loki loved one another. So why was shock and confusion rolling through Loki’s mind.

“I don’t get it.” Banner looked between Thor and Loki.

“Our kind, our people, love and marry. It’s not unheard of, though they are not always monogamous. Even then there are exceptions, like our parents are now. But even early on, father was known to wander and mother had…”

“Don’t say that cretin’s name.” Loki scowled.

“But a mate,” Thor continued. “A pair that is tied together for the centuries of our lifetimes, is a rare thing. It is more common with the Alfheim, but it occurs with every race upon Yggdrasil. I don’t know if it was the touching of your minds, or if that was just a catalyst to what was destined to be, but I agree with mother. It’s true.”

A mixture of awe and elation filled you, only to be drowned in a crashing wave of sorrow and desperation. Your hand reached for Loki’s, and he gripped your fingers tightly. Tears filled your eyes as you tried to bite back a sob.

Steve said your name quietly, seeing the change.

You looked to him, tears falling silently. “I don’t have centuries. In what will seem like a blink of an eye, I will grow old and die and there’s nothing Loki can do to stop it.”

Cap’s face fell. He knew that heartache and would not wish it upon anyone, ever.

Thor’s strong hand gripped Loki’s shoulder. His other gently touched your cheek. “Do not do this. Do not mourn for what has not happen yet. Live joyously right now. I will tell Mother what I’ve seen. She will not allow such a tragedy to pass, especially when it’s within Father’s ability to prevent it.”

Loki gave him a sad smile. “I am sentenced to a century for my crimes. He’s not going to grant me an Apple with less than one in a hundred years served.”

“Mother is persuasive, you know better than most.” Thor beamed. “It may take a year, or five, or ten, but Mother and I will make Odin see what needs to be done.” Thor turned to you. “You understand of what we speak?”

The Apple of Immortality. You knew. Trying to weed through the bad memories of all the times Odin hurt and disappointed Loki, you searched for all the times Frigga’s influence worked upon their Father. Little concessions for the children to serious matters of state, she did hold sway over her husband. Suddenly you realized she held so much influence, that she used it sparingly as to not abuse it.

It might be okay after all.

You nodded slowly. “You mother is a formidable woman, kind, and she loves you both. Alright,” You smiled up at Loki, wiping your tears away. “There’s no point in wasting energy on worrying. You’re right, we live for today. But, Thor, we’re placing our trust in you.”

His big arms pulled you close, despite Loki’s growl, and he dropped a kiss into your hair. “I will not fail you, little sister. Mother is going to adore you.”

“Stop manhandling her,” Loki grumbled. “She is mine.”

You giggled, slipping from Thor’s bear hug and into Loki’s arms.

“How long are you staying?” Steve asked, not one hundred percent sure of the agreement, but satisfied that you were all happy.

“You need to tell her right way.” Loki answered at the same time Thor boomed “There is time to feast and celebrate!”

You squeezed Loki a little tighter. “We can wait a night. Maybe Thor will get you drunk and I’ll get to take advantage of you for a change.”

Loki’s eyes grew wide before he laughed heartily.

Yeah, you sighed, things were going to be alright.

TAGS:

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#loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki fan fiction #loki layfeyson x reader

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 3 years

Photo

This one is for @aloe-casia, who is ShyTrush on AO3 – a brilliant writer who always leaves much too cute comments on my fics. And (drum roll) I had a beta for this, namely @the-cooler-king-finnigan who is King_Finn on AO3 and also a brilliant writer. Wait a second, fan mode is setting in *SCREAMS*. Okay okay. So, the ask was as follows:

Could I, perhaps, submit a prompt for you? I love when you write Emhyr looking after Geralt after he’s been injured or sick, so my prompt is Geralt whump, poisoning, and Emhyr being competent and taking care of Geralt afterwards and making sure he’s comfy.

Now, hear me out. Emhyr truly is competent, isn’t he? He dragged Geralt out of the danger zone here, he pushed back his bones here, he was willing to tell a lie to make Geralt feel better in this fic, he held back his hair when the aftereffects of Geralt’s concussion took hold of the latter here and he even managed to take influence on him in, well, let’s say, a dream in this fic. Poison is nothing he can’t handle. Or is it?

This one’s called “Oh my beautiful disaster” (lyrics from “World on Fire” by Slash), read it under the cut or on AO3. 6688 words (I’m sorry, it somehow grew bit by bit) and I’d rate it G, I guess.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

Geralt's voice sounded a little nervous. But the knife at his throat was probably a good reason to be.

"I believe I do," was Emhyr's calm reply. "You're scratchy. You've been claiming for days that you don't have time to shave, and you refuse to let the servants do it."

"You won't let them touch your neck either," Geralt returned.

He sat bare-chested in front of the mirror; behind him stood Emhyr with a towel in one hand and the razor in the other.

"Which is why I have decades of experience doing it myself. Now hold still."

Emhyr set the knife precisely.

"I could still do it myself," Geralt replied.

"I don't know why a razor makes you so nervous," Emhyr said reprovingly.

"I think it's more the fact that you're holding it."

"By which you mean to imply that you don't trust your husband? That's bold, considering you've just established that I'm the one with the knife, my dear."

"It's a golden blade. It's decadent. It's probably just decorative and blunt."

"Feeble," Emhyr muttered, dragging the knife slowly along Geralt's chin. "I’m about to believe this bush on your face is starting to appeal to you."

Against his will, Geralt grinned at Emhyr's reflection in the mirror.

"It seems to bother you. That's quite entertaining."

Emhyr raised his brows.

"In this game, I think I have the better hand," he returned. "I've got the knife."

Slowly, the blade continued to scrape along Geralt's neck, and the latter had to admit that Emhyr was indeed handling it skillfully. He began to relax, trying to see it for what it ultimately was: a courtesy of his spouse. Anyway, he didn't understand why he had such a strange feeling about it. Maybe it was because his medallion felt unuasually warm on his bare skin. Geralt almost casually reached out a hand to touch it. Suddenly, he winced.

"You should hold still. See, now I've cut you."

Emhyr snorted disapprovingly, bent down, and wiped a tiny drop of blood from Geralt's neck.

"What is it now?"

Geralt shook his head.

"This feels strange. Like it's vibrating, and then it's not. It's never done that before."

"Hmm," Emhyr mused as he continued to work on Geralt's beard with concentration.

"What do you think it means?"

Geralt still held the medallion with one hand. His gaze was absent as he answered, "I don't know. Maybe it's..."

He didn't get to complete his sentence. Suddenly, Geralt rolled his eyes into the back of his head, stiffened, then slid off the chair. Emhyr pulled the razor away just in time.

"Geralt? What is... Geralt!"

Emhyr couldn't prevent Geralt from falling, collapsing on the floor. He was immediately beside him, grabbing him by the shoulders, but now Geralt began to twitch uncontrollably. His whole body tensed up, his hands aimlessly hitting the floor. His neck stretched out; only the whites of his eyes were visible. His head began to hit the ground now, too, and Emhyr knelt beside him, placed Geralt's head in his lap – which wasn't easy, his twitching body continually threatening to slip away – and held his hands tightly. Then he yelled, "GUARDS!"

—

When Triss, alerted by the guards, came rushing into the room, the sight almost chilled her to the bone. Convulsions ran through Geralt's entire body. Emhyr held his hands to prevent Geralt from hurting himself, but the sheer force of the spasms was already bloodying his heels on the stone floor. She had never seen anything like it. Instinctively, she knelt on Geralt's shins and put her hands on his chest.

"How long has this been going on?" she asked.

Emhyr seemed surprisingly calm, but by now, she had known him long enough. His voice might be serene, but the hint of worry in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Five minutes," he replied with astonishing certainty.

He had probably counted the seconds, Triss thought. She couldn't blame him. Her hands ran over Geralt's body. Invisible strands of powerful magic pierced his unconscious mind, examining the workings of his body, searching for clues.

"What happened before?"

"A shave, nothing more," Emhyr replied tersely.

As if that were an expected answer, the sorceress nodded and took Geralt's restless head between her hands. In extreme concentration, she narrowed her eyes, then snapped them open in surprise.

"That's strange," she murmured. "It feels like poison, but then again, it's not. Maybe a spell to strengthen... What else did you do? Was anything different than usual?"

Emhyr frowned.

"I wouldn't know..."

"The razor," she interrupted him. "Where is it?"

A shadow crossed Emhyr's face, and he looked around quickly.

"The blade was new," he replied. "It fell to the ground when.... it must be here somewhere."

Sure enough, he spied the razor he had dropped, right next to the overturned chair. Reflexively, he reached out a hand for it, but Triss immediately snapped at him, "Don't. We should get Adan."

—

The witcher, swift as ever, was summoned in no time. Although he had no idea what to expect, he did not dwell on surprise or pointless questions. He immediately went down on his knees, checking Geralt's pulse on the carotid artery. The feline bent over, pulling back Geralt’s eyelids, then looked at Triss.

"Looks like an extreme reaction to poison, but..."

She pointed to the razor on the floor with a curt movement of her head. Adan looked around quickly, noticed the dropped towel, took it, and picked up the knife with it.

"I touched that, and I'm fine," Emhyr broke the silence.

"Then it's something with the blade, but better safe than sorry," Adan returned.

He held the razor close to his eyes, and his gaze became somewhat absent. Nobody knew what he was doing, but suddenly he stuck out his tongue, pressing the knife against it. Triss hissed his name, yet he held out his other hand, an unusual gesture that signaled her to let him. When he finally looked at the sorceress, his eyes had a strange gleam – at least it seemed that way to her.

"Definitely some kind of poison," he said. "But that's not all."

Triss nodded.

"I think it's a spell. For enhancement, maybe. A double safeguard? A bit much for a simple razor."

"Now, it's not that simple," Adan replied. "I, for one, do not own a pure gold razor. So it's yours?" he turned to Emhyr.

The latter suddenly raised his head as if a startling thought had occurred to him.

"It was one of the wedding gifts.... this morning, my knife broke, and I sent Meredid to get a new one. He said he remembered seeing one among those things – the gifts are still being cataloged, but it caught his eye."

"A strange wedding gift," Triss said grimly.

"That's what I said, but he replied that, on the contrary, it was particularly thoughtful."

"Not merely because of its value," Adan said, immediately catching on. "But because it is especially personal. Something that would touch the Emperor on a daily basis. Kind of quirky, though."

"That's more than quirky," Triss protested.

"It doesn't matter. The crucial question is who it came from," said the witcher – and he was right.

"We can examine this later," Emhyr said urgently. "I demand to know how we are going to help Geralt."

Geralt's erratic movements had slowed a little, but his spasms had by no means ceased. Adan pulled a vial from his pockets. Of course, even at this late hour, he was fully equipped. Never was he without his armor, his swords, or anything of his equipment at all, even in the palace.

Triss held him back.

"We don't know what will happen if you use one of your potions."

"Because of the spell? We don't know what kind of magic it is either," he returned. "And the poisoning is clear. We can start with low doses."

"He's not a lab rat. That could be dangerous."

"Doing nothing seems more dangerous. And apparently, your magic can't dissolve the other one either."

"Not right away," Triss replied defensively.

Emhyr had had enough of this strangely familiar-looking repartee.

"You can argue later," he said sharply. "I've seen the effects of this potion often enough. Let him try it."

Adan jumped up, telling Emhyr, "We need to switch places for a minute. You should continue to hold his hands down."

Apparently, he had hit just the right note; at any rate, Emhyr asked nothing further, letting go of Geralt's hands, retreating, and gently resting his head on the floor. Then he slid to the side and put his hands on Geralt's wrists again. Adan knelt behind Geralt's head, placing his fingers on his chin and jaw in a peculiar way, and then began to squeeze them both. Adan let go with one hand, pulled the cork out of the vial with his teeth, and carefully dribbled a small amount into Geralt's now open mouth.

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Suddenly, the room became very quiet, except for the strange sound of Geralt's twitching body grazing the floor, regardless of their attempts to hold him down. Slowly, the convulsions subsided until he finally lay still.

But beyond that, nothing happened: the dark veins that had emerged at his neck and other parts of his body had not changed, his eyes were closed, and he did not respond to Triss' soft words as she leaned over him.

"I could increase the dose," Adan suggested, but there was an air of uncertainty in his voice. Something was happening here that was beyond everyone's control.

Triss shook her head.

"We have to find out what kind of poison caused this. And what spell."

"That means you can't do anything for him?"

Emhyr's voice had a piercing tone to it. He was still clutching Geralt's wrists, although the latter was now lying perfectly still.

"Poison needs an antidote," Triss explained. "Healing magic also knows an universal counteragent, but I would have to prepare it yet. However, since the potion didn't work, I'm afraid that won't get us very far. Mostly because of the apparent link to a spell. That's why we need to examine the blade..."

"...and identify the poison, and the spell," Adan finished her sentence. "To make a specific antidote. If we work together, it will be faster. I'll find out where the knife came from."

"In the meantime, we'll try the conventional way; we'll make a decoction, try poultices and a sweating cure.... Someone has to be with him at all times."

"We'll take turns," Adan said.

"I'll stay here," Emhyr suddenly interjected. "I'll stay with him; you can show me what to do."

Triss glanced at him.

"This will be a lengthy and unpleasant business," she replied. "It could take us several days to make the antidote. I'm sure it's not life-threatening, at least not for him – in a way, we should be glad you didn't use the knife yourself. Still, it's going to be difficult."

"Is that supposed to scare me off? He's my husband," Emhyr said coldly.

"You have other responsibilities as well," the sorceress reminded him.

It was her duty to tell him, and her status gave her the unique right to do so, but neither did she like doing it nor did he want to hear it. It was unusually clear on Emhyr's face.

"I have a whole staff of advisors," he objected, not without a hint of defiance in his voice that no one had ever heard from him. "I'm not disappearing. Still, there's nothing that can't be postponed or delegated."

Those were unfamiliar words coming out of his mouth, but Triss couldn't say she didn't understand his motives. Yet, she said, "I can send for Ciri."

"Absolutely not," Emhyr replied sharply. "She will make a tremendous fuss, and in that condition, she is no help to me."

What he actually meant, Triss suddenly realized, was that he himself was just incapable of concentrating on anything other than his spouse's well-being. But he couldn't possibly admit that.

"Fine, but we'll still take turns. Even you have to eat and sleep," she decided.

—

Together they laid Geralt on the bed, and Triss inculcated Emhyr to keep him warm, have water ready in case he woke up (not wanting to predict as to when that would be), and otherwise just watch him. But Emhyr would not have required this advice; he did not take his eyes off him. He felt an unfamiliar nervousness rising within him. Often enough, he had seen Geralt wounded and without consciousness, but this seemed so uncertain: neither did they know who had done this to them, nor what the ultimate consequences would be. Especially with Geralt, he thought, not without anger, because obviously, the poison had hit the wrong person. Not for the first time.

So he kept busy to distract himself from such thoughts. He had the fireplace lit, although it was no longer cold enough for it, covered Geralt with two blankets in accordance with the advice of his court sorceress and simply waited – for some change. Emhyr didn't know if he should believe that one could sweat out poison, and probably that was simply an additional safeguard, and yet he wanted to use every means at his disposal – knowing that those same means were limited.

And that was probably the worst part of it. Over time, he had acquired amazing skills in dressing wounds, and he knew how to relieve pain. He didn't like any of it, but he'd be damned if he was going to tell Geralt how to live his life. Both had agreed on that some time ago. They circumnavigated some issues in their lives with the extraordinary certainty of seasoned sailors, without harm. Emhyr was sure they would be able to handle this as well. He sat down next to Geralt on the bed, stroked one of those unruly strands of hair out of his face, and took his right hand in his own. Slowly, he traced the engraving of Geralt's ring with his forefinger. That was what made him stay, no matter what.

Night fell, and while shadows of candles and fires flitted across the walls, Emhyr held Geralt's hand and watched his face. He appeared to be asleep, but his features lacked their usual relaxed quality. This had been going on for many hours now, and while nothing had changed on the outside, it was obvious that he was getting more restless. The fingers Emhyr held trembled every now and then, and the muscles in his face flinched as if he were in a profound yet unpleasant dream. Sweat had long been standing on his forehead, which was not surprising given the heat in the room. Emhyr himself accepted the warmth stoically. He would not admit any weakness, he never had, and he definitely would not do so now. Still, it felt unfortunate that he couldn't do anything. He observed, but there was nothing to see.

It was already past midnight, and Emhyr had gotten up to walk around so he wouldn't get tired. His mind was rattling with a list of things he would turn over to his advisory staff the next morning; a dozen items to do on his schedule, documents he could sign even as he sat here, and the like. And yet, he noticed instantly when Geralt opened his eyes. Immediately he was at the bedside, sitting on the edge, reaching for his hands.

Geralt's gaze was unsteady as he tried to sit up, and confused when he realized he failed right away.

"Stop it," Emhyr said softly, letting go of his hands and gently pushing him back. Geralt's chest was wet with sweat; he had somehow managed to slip off the covers in the few minutes when Emhyr hadn't been looking. "Just lie still. Everything is fine."

It was one of the few lies he had ever told his husband, but the circumstances probably justified it.

"We fixed that gap in the wall a year ago, but it broke again," Geralt said.

His voice sounded clear, but his words made no sense to Emhyr. It did not matter.

"You can fix it again," he replied, hoping that his voice alone would affect him, as it often did.

At least Geralt no longer tried to sit up. He seemed to become a bit calmer, although still confused. His eyes had a strange gleam, and his pupils flickered like those of a drug addict.

"Ciri needs to practice the feint again," he said, and that stung Emhyr a little. Clearly, Geralt was very, very far in the past. He wondered if he even remembered him in this condition. Certainly, he didn't even recognize him.

Carefully, Emhyr leaned against the headboard of the bed, retook Geralt's hands, and replied, "I suppose she should."

Geralt's lids fluttered, then he closed his eyes again, but his sleep remained fitful.

—

At some point, Emhyr must have dozed off, too, because the next thing that entered his consciousness was his aching back and the fact that Triss was standing over Geralt, wrapping fragrant sheets over his thighs.

"Ah," she said as soon as Emhyr noticed her, "it's good that you had some sleep. Can't have been much though, you should lie down again, a little more comfortably perhaps."

"Any news?" he asked as he stretched and glanced at Geralt's face. For now, he lay still, but his muscles still seemed tense.

"Some ingredients are missing for the decoction; we will get them in the morning. Then the protocol officer will also arrive, who manages the records of the wedding gifts."

"The feline could well have kicked him out of bed to get this information," Emhyr muttered.

Triss glanced at him.

"Don't exaggerate," she said. "It's only a matter of a few hours, and we won't get anywhere without the ingredients anyway."

"But until then, Geralt won't get any better," he replied heatedly.

"But neither will he get any worse," the sorceress returned calmly.

As for the rest of the night, she was to be proven right. Emhyr was careful not to fall asleep again, and he stoked the fire himself when it threatened to go out toward morning. The heat in the room was unbearable now, and he had rolled up his sleeves. Meanwhile, Geralt had additionally developed a fever, which Triss had described as "excellent". Emhyr, however, could find nothing excellent about the sight of his husband lying there drenched in sweat, occasionally clenching his hands as if he were still trying to fight invisible forces even in his sleep. His cheeks, usually so pale, were reddened more by the fever than by the warmth in the room; just another expression of the unnaturalness of the whole situation.

At some point, he had begun to utter soft noises, a strange mixture of incoherent words mixed with something between sighs and groans. Emhyr had taken his place next to Geralt again and grasped his hands, vaguely hoping that he would feel the touch and calm down. He barely heard when the door opened. Adan was basically very quiet, yet Emhyr wondered how much time had passed. Had he been about to fall asleep again?

Silently the witcher stepped closer, pulled up Geralt's eyelids to check his pupils, and felt his pulse, but neither told him anything new.

"He seems stable, but we need the antidote as soon as possible."

"Do you now know what poison it was?"

"We're working on it. We'll know more shortly. The antidote is still missing a few basic ingredients; we've sent someone out to get them. However, only when we know what poison it is can it be finished. But we now know who the gift came from."

Emhyr sat up straight and ran a hand through his hair. He was aware that he might not be particularly presentable, but that was unimportant.

"From whom?"

Adan shrugged.

"A Nilfgaardian nobleman, a minor duke or something. Just being brought in for questioning."

When Adan told him the name, it didn't ring a bell.

"I should be there for the interrogation."

"You should get rest. Not here, if possible," the witcher replied.

"I suppose this suggestion comes from my court sorceress?"

"And from your security advisor."

"I'd say he's overstepping his authority."

Adan tilted his head.

"Is it not a matter of security if the Emperor overexerts himself?"

"Don't overdo it," Emhyr said, and the authority in his voice was unmistakable. "Come back when there is actually something new, or until I have one of you summoned. In the meantime, I will take care of my husband. Understood?"

Adan remained unimpressed. Naturally. But he nodded and replied, "I will tell the court sorceress so."

He turned to leave. Quietly, Emhyr said, "You will not be spared her scolding."

It almost sounded like an apology.

"Well, neither will you," Adan said lightly before leaving.

—

After a while, Emhyr began to reconsider his decision. It wasn't because he was getting tired – he had enough experience in staying awake for various motives. But because it became increasingly difficult to assess Geralt's condition. His restlessness had increased to a point where Emhyr feared that his erratic movements would once more turn into terrible spasms. Triss had advised him to bring the fever down a bit and forgo the fire since this treatment was not working. She continued to try herbal poultices, but even there, she had not been very confident. The things didn't last long anyway since Geralt tossed and turned too much.

Emhyr counted on the fact that they would soon find out what this strange linking of a spell with poison was all about. There seemed to be no improvement in Geralt's condition, and even if his court sorceress was convinced that it was not a life-threatening situation, Emhyr was not entirely confident. It was perhaps all too easy for him to forget that he still had a witcher before him. But Geralt had told him things that would have chilled anyone to the bone. He had told things that were neither stories nor legends, and they had spoken of a great deal of suffering. Surviving was a doubtful gift; he knew that very well. Emhyr didn't know if Geralt was in pain; he seemed very far away now. But the possibility alone gnawed at him. He didn't understand why anyone would go to the trouble of securing such a simple object – which he had only used at all by chance – with so much hatred. The poison alone would undoubtedly have killed him. It made no sense.

Emhyr had sat down on the bed again, he had begun to stroke Geralt's hair gently. Usually this calmed them both. Geralt still felt hot, he almost appeared to be glowing, and nothing Emhyr could do seemed to change that. Carefully, he ran a moistened cloth over Geralt’s parched lips and his forehead. Geralt's face twisted briefly, but that might mean that he felt the touch as much as that it disturbed him in the middle of a dream. Emhyr imagined that these were not pleasant dreams, but he forbade himself such thoughts. Worrying wouldn't help Geralt either.

As if to distract himself, he slowly stroked Geralt's hot cheeks with his fingertips. What came next happened so quickly that it would be difficult for him to recall it later.

Geralt's right hand shot forward and grabbed his wrist. His eyes opened, but they seemed to look right through Emhyr with a dull gleam. He sat up, and the grip tightened painfully.

"Geralt," Emhyr said softly, reassuringly, but he should have known better.

He realized what was going on at the same moment he made his next mistake. Emhyr raised his other hand to grasp Geralt by the shoulder – a harmless touch meant to let his husband know that it was him, that he was here, that all was well, even if it wasn't. Geralt jumped up, pushing Emhyr forward without letting go of his wrist. When his feet touched the ground, he swayed briefly, but it didn't stop him. Yes, Emhyr knew what was going on, he really should have known better. At that moment, Geralt behaved no differently than a wounded wolf snatching at the hand that was trying to help him – because his instinct told him that such a thing never happened.

Actually, they had left that behind for long. Emhyr had learned his lesson not to startle the sleeping witcher, and the latter had, at some point, learned to put trust above instinct, at least when they were together. However, Geralt was so very out of it, so very unaware that he did not recognize him or his surroundings. The wolf's instincts said fight or flight, and the grip on Emhyr's hand told him that he had chosen fight.

"Geralt," he tried again, his voice a sole assurance that all was well, although that seemed a massive lie, "let go. Please."

Not even the softness of his tone, reserved for special occasions known only to Geralt, or the word that so rarely crossed his lips, triggered anything in the witcher. Geralt looked around frantically as if searching for an exit – flight, after all, Emhyr thought fleetingly – but since he didn't really seem to register what was happening, he turned back to Emhyr. The latter was doing his best not to look threatening, and although Geralt was only holding his wrist, he knew that one movement would be enough to break it.

"You're safe," he said, his voice expressing confidence he didn't feel.

It seemed like the biggest mistake to even approach him. Suddenly, Geralt's second hand was on his neck, and Emhyr’s free hand lay over it in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure. His back hit the wall and his breath caught. Dark spots began to dance before his eyes. His mind demanded oxygen as much as his lungs, but still, a thought flashed in him. Something Geralt had shown him, he and Ciri, they had both insisted on teaching him something he had thought was superfluous. He hadn't tried it; he had found it ridiculous – with a whole army of guards and soldiers, with two witchers and Ciri (if she was ever present) and an extremely capable sorceress, what would he know such a thing for?

And yet, some part of him could recall the knowledge now. Geralt was not standing quite securely, it was apparent. He wasn't putting any weight on his leg that had been broken twice; in stressful situations, it hurt more than usual, and he suffered from nightmares. And this was probably a particularly bad dream. Almost instinctively, Emhyr moved his right foot directly against Geralt's slightly retracted leg. He thrust in a movement that had been precisely described to him, hitting a point that had been tried to inculcate in him.

Geralt did not fall, the kick had not been strong enough, but surprise and force threw him off balance. He let go of Emhyr's neck, but not his wrist, and Emhyr tried to free himself. He pulled, Geralt faltered, and Emhyr tried to kick again. His only chance seemed to be to throw Geralt entirely off balance. Only now did it occur to him to yell for the guards outside the door. Once they were in the room, he could order them to get the sorceress, and if they couldn't restrain Geralt, the other witcher as well.... He stepped forward, but this time Geralt seemed to have sensed his movement, and he pulled him to the side. Emhyr stumbled, but because Geralt was still holding his wrist, they both swayed. Geralt pushed him off with force, but he was too weak to stay on his feet any longer, and in the fall, he pulled Emhyr with him. Geralt's confused face was the last thing Emhyr saw; then he banged his head on the edge of the bed.

—

He came to on the chaise longue in the salon. A damp cloth lay on his forehead, which he pushed aside almost angrily. There wasn't even a bump to be felt. The woman knew exactly how much he hated her magical healing, at least on himself. Emhyr slowly stood up, walked to the open door, and leaned against the frame, feeling slightly dizzy. Merigold and the feline were standing in the bedroom. The sorceress noticed him immediately.

"For goodness sake, can't one of you lie down for a while?"

Emhyr ignored her tone and asked, "What of him?"

Geralt lay in bed again, not moving.

"He hurt himself and you," Triss replied angrily. "From now on, you won't stay alone. Lie back down; you had a laceration, you'll still be dizzy. I'll go and finish the antidote. Adan can tell you what we learned."

"Geralt will not hear what happened, just so we're clear," Emhyr said seriously.

Triss narrowed her eyes.

"Stop blaming yourself. It was pure coincidence that Geralt got the poison, and an accident that it had such an effect on him."

She noticed that Emhyr was about to say something, but she interrupted him immediately, though much more gently.

"I agree that he doesn't need to know what happened. I don't think he will remember either. But you are both seasoned enough not to let guilt define you all the time."

"You still have amazing ideas about the duties of the court sorceress," Emhyr countered, but he didn't sound upset.

Triss shrugged, but as she walked past him, she said quietly, "But I know her rights pretty well."

She left him to Adan, who, as he noticed, was holding a small vial.

"What is that?"

Adan placed the empty vial on the small table next to the bed and replied, "Just a sedative. He knocked out two guards before I arrived. You might have to muddy the waters – I mean, if the Emperor's consort attacks him and then lashes out on the guards, it might stir up the rumor mill quite a bit."

Emhyr only snorted contemptuously – he definitely didn't have the nerve for that now. He stepped closer, pulled a chair, and sat down at the bed. Geralt now looked reasonably peaceful; he could only hope that it stayed that way.

"Doesn't the remedy cause any complications?" he asked.

"Frankly, we can't know for sure," Adan replied a touch too honestly for Emhyr's taste.

"But you know more about the poison now?"

"Oh, yes. It wasn't effortless to find out because the spell kind of overrode it. I'm still wondering what purpose..."

"The poison," Emhyr reminded him impatiently.

Adan scratched his head, one of the few gestures he had grown accustomed to that clearly showed he was unsure.

"It's a strange mixture of easily obtainable toxins. Even ratsbane was among them, but also a veritable quantity of mushrooms and... well, flowers, like nightshade plants."

"What exactly is strange about that?"

"All of these are things that can be obtained from herb stores or alchemists, or you can simply gather them yourself from nature."

"So the perpetrator knew what they were doing."

"Not necessarily; they just knew where to get the poisons," Adan objected. "I'll have the herbalists and other stores in the area questioned, but I suspect they didn't buy any of it. The selection is pretty random. There were also a few re-identifiable kinds of grass in the mix and one or two non-toxic substances that weren't carriers or otherwise served a practical purpose."

"And that gives us what insight?"

Adan shrugged.

"That's the question. I don't know yet."

A long silence followed. It might have lasted for hours; Emhyr had long since lost his sense of time. He continued to sit there and, perhaps in a fit of defiance, had reached for Geralt's hands again. It still soothed him to clasp those fingers tightly, to stroke over them with his own, hoping that somehow, sometime Geralt would notice.

Adan had been standing there leaning against the wall for what seemed like an eternity. It was almost strange that he, who could nearly never keep his mouth shut, was so quiet. He held a worn, tattered little book in his hand, in which he wrote something down from time to time. Whenever he lifted his eyes, he glanced briefly at Geralt's motionless figure; then seemed utterly lost in thought once again.

Suddenly, he pushed himself off the wall, noisily slammed his booklet shut, and shouted, "I've got it."

Already he was on his way to the door when Emhyr called after him, "What?"

Adan turned and looked at him as if noticing him for the first time.

"I know who made the poison. Or at least how I can find him. It's someone from the palace. I have to go, but you shouldn't be alone. I'll let the guards know; Triss won't be ready yet..."

"Don't you dare," Emhyr said sharply, but the witcher was already out the door.

—

Emhyr threw out all the guards, even if it probably meant incurring the holy wrath of his sorceress. But since she did not show herself, he assumed that the production of the antidote was proceeding. He desperately needed good news now, progress in many ways. He needed the certainty that something would change because every minute that passed seemed to bring Geralt suffering. Emhyr knew Merigold would have objected; she would have said that no one could understand what was going on inside him. But Emhyr did not sense it that way. He felt a hot forehead when he stroked over it. Saw closed eyelids twitching as if in a dream. Squeezed hands that did not return his pressure.

How long could anybody, any witcher, possibly resist a mixture of strange poisons? All that remained for him was the hope that the antidote would have the promised effect, even though the unknown spell had mixed with the poison. As he watched Geralt, he thought about something they both knew: that there would always be unknown threats hovering over them both. That peace was fragile not only in the empire but also in their lives. They had agreed to brave the coming storms together against all odds. Their connection was unique and perhaps the strangest imaginable, but it worked. It was the best thing that had happened to him in infinite years, on so many levels, and he knew that Geralt felt the same way. Just maybe not now, because now he might feel nothing at all, and that hurt.

Time passed agonizingly slowly. Minutes flowed into hours, and everything around him became blurry. Therefore, it was probably no wonder that Emhyr flinched when Adan suddenly stormed into the room. To be more precise, it was as usual: from one second to the next, he was there, as if one had simply blinked a heartbeat too long and missed his appearance.

His interim silence forgotten, he immediately sputtered, "Triss isn't here yet? Damn, so we still don't know anything about the spell? Anyway, now we know who poisoned the razor. You'll never guess."

"I don't usually have to guess," Emhyr replied with enough disapproval in his voice that even Adan caught it.

"Well, I suppose not," he returned. "It's not mysterious at all, either. An emissary, which explains why there were so many different poisons – he started collecting during his missions. Seems to have collected the stuff like some resentment built up inside him. His motive..."

"The wedding?" asked Emhyr, although it didn't sound like a question.

"I guess that was the last straw," the witcher confirmed.

"How strange that my security advisor could miss this," Emhyr said. As usual, his sarcasm didn't catch on with Adan; would he never learn?

"This bloke has been with the court longer than I have," was the calm reply. "And you realize that human emotions will always find a way to overcome the best security measures."

"Of which you are the best example," Emhyr returned snappily, even though he knew Adan was right.

"Last time I checked, I wasn't human."

Emhyr raised his brows in surprise.

"Funny."

"What?"

They stared at each other for a moment, and Emhyr thought that Geralt would definitely have found that hilarious.

A moment later, Triss stood in the room, and the first thing Emhyr noticed was the vial in her hand. Slowly he stood up. She saw his look and nodded.

"I am ready. But you two will never believe who caused the spell."

"Another one with a long-held grudge?" muttered Emhyr.

Triss looked at him in surprise.

"On the contrary. The same Nilfgaardian noble who made the gift turned to a local wizard. It wasn't to curse the knife. He asked for a harmless enchantment. What it does is almost ridiculous: it embellishes the gift, so to speak, making it more attractive. This is also the reason why Meredid immediately noticed the razor and why he remembered it. Spell and poison were both of similar quality and strength and mixed in such a way that identification took its time."

"We should check if this noble and the emissary knew each other," Adan replied, updating Triss on his discoveries.

"I don't think so," the sorceress said afterward. "The nobleman wanted the spell to rise in favor. His rank and reputation are a bit shady. We could clarify how the emissary got the knife, but once he saw it, the spell will have made him think it was a good object for his vengeful desires."

"Pure coincidence, then," Emhyr said musingly.

"Just as unpredictable as emotions," Adan agreed.

"Let's deal with this in more detail later," Triss urged. "I have an antidote, and I'm pretty sure it works."

Pretty sure was not enough for Emhyr, but he said nothing. Filled with tension, he watched Adan take the potion and administer it to Geralt.

"How soon will this take effect?" he asked.

"I hope very quickly," she replied, basically voicing his thoughts. "And with no side effects," she added.

"You mean as opposed to witcher's potions?" Adan remarked as he set down the empty vial. "It might have looked worse without it."

"I don't think it compares."

"You started it, after all."

"Shut up, both of you," Emyhr said without raising his voice.

Adan and Triss gave each other an almost guilt-ridden look, but at least it caught. For a while, everyone just looked at Geralt, spellbound. But for a while - nothing happened.

Emhyr's impatience increased to new, unimagined heights. Triss nervously plucked at her fingernails. Only Adan still seemed unimpressed. He had gone down on his knees beside the bed, two fingers permanently on Geralt's carotid artery, his gaze highly concentrated.

The silence in the room became more and more oppressive. Emhyr gave his sorceress a look, which she avoided.

"Look," Adan said suddenly.

He pointed to the protruding veins on Geralt's neck. Slowly, very slowly, they lost their unnaturally dark color, receding like snow melting in the sun. Wherever on his body this visible testimony of the poison had formed, the same thing happened. Triss put a hand on Geralt's forehead, then nodded.

"Almost over," she murmured.

"Normal pulse," Adan confirmed after a while.

Both stepped back, but still, all seemed to hold their breath together. The tender sprout of hope that had formed not only in Emhyr had become a real seed.

Shortly after that, Geralt opened his eyes. When he saw them all standing there, he jerked back, straightened up on his elbows, and spluttered, confused as if after a long slumber, "Have I overslept? Did I miss something? Why are you all standing there? Shit, my head… did I forget that we got wasted? What are you all looking at! Damn, I have to pee."

Triss involuntarily started giggling.

Adan said, clearly relieved, "What an idiot."

Emhyr looked into Geralt's puzzled face, and this time he did not hold back his smile, which only increased the latter's irritation.

"Careful, you're insulting the Emperor's consort. However, it is true."

How peculiar, that he somehow sounded pleased.

#writing #fanfiction #Emhyr x Geralt #Geralt x Emhyr #Emhyr/Geralt #Emralt #witcher 3 #a03 fanfic #whump fic #witcher fanfic

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 15

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/639152911075672064/odins-ward-chapter-14

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 3182

Warnings: None

True age: Y/n: 1449 // Loki: 1575 // Thor: 1827 // Audunn 3213

Human equivalent age: Y/n: 23 // Loki: 25 // Thor: 29// Audunn: 51

Y/n’s POV

I bite off a piece of bread, if only to appease my hovering maidservant. Periodically, Frigga attempts to broach a talking subject, but I fear I am not a good partner for conversation. No, my mind is too filled with fears for my home, for my father, and, annoyingly, for Loki, who is nowhere to be found.

“Why doesn’t he dine with us?” The question blurts from my lips before I register my interruption of Frigga’s sentence. I apologize sheepishly, feeling bad for not only cutting off a queen, but a woman I greatly respect.

Frigga only smiles softly without judgement, seeming to intend to indulge my question. “He thinks himself too proud or too far removed from our family to be with us—no doubt as a result of the hurt he’s suffered. He sees his absence as a punishment for us when, in truth, it is a punishment for himself as well.”

I sigh, sinking deeper in my chair, the tasteless bread falling from my fingers. Ragna, attentive as always, takes this as an opportunity to put a bowl of bright red fruit in front of me.

“Please eat, My Lady.” Her care for me is what ultimately leads to me taking a bite. Bland, but I continue nibbling in order to ease her worry. In truth, though, I do not anticipate having much of an appetite until a significant number of my fears are assuaged.

“Have you any word from Odin or Thor? Or my father? It has been over a day since they departed.”

Frigga shakes her head. “With regret, I have nothing to report.”

Under the table, my leg begins to shake. “I hope they’re alright and successful in putting an end to the rebellion. My people cannot survive many more hours of this slaughter.”

Frigga leans forward, queenly authority washing over her words. “As a wife and mother, I worry for Odin and Thor. But as a queen, I have little concern. Asgard’s army has defeated much more formidable foes than your husband. I have no doubt this will result in a victory for Asgard and for your people.”

Her words and the conviction behind them do calm me slightly.

She sees this, and seems to seize on the opportunity. “But let us talk of lighter things. It has been over three hundred years since I last saw you. Tell me—how has your life been since your wedding?”

I exhale heavily without meaning to.

I have no desire to tell Frigga about the abuse from my husband and the scorn from Court, nor the stark isolation I feel nearly every day. So I decide to gloss over as much as I can, and relay only the good parts of my life in Alfheim.

“Our summers in Alfheim are very mild—barely hotter than spring. It makes for long, lovely days full of picnics and outdoor games, time on the lake, then perhaps a dance or two under the stars. Alfheim thrives in the night, you know. Our castle, our clothing, even our people are the most beautiful in the moonlight. Connecting with the people of Court has been a bit of a struggle, but the common folk seem to love me, even if they do not know me, not really….but they throw flowers outside my carriage when I visit the towns, and even named a library after me in the main village. It’s nice to feel that sense of community, even if I cannot be around it all the time.” At this, I look at my hands, not wanting Frigga to see the sadness in my eyes. Because, despite the clearly awful parts of my existence away from Asgard, there are bright, shining, beautiful moments in my life in Alfheim. These glimmers are what would get me through the day.

And they are what tear my heart apart now as I think of my homeworld being ripped to shreds by civil war and brutality.

Frigga hears some of what I leave unsaid. She squeezes my hand gently and places the lightest of touches under my chin, encouraging me to look up at her. “My dear, do not be saddened. Here you will find community in those closest to you, there is no need to be so isolated.” My heart, which had fluttered in hope at her words, quickly falls with her next. It seems everyone, even those I love and trust, see me as just a means to produce an heir. “It took Odin and I many centuries to conceive. And when nature failed us, another child came to us in the most unconventional, but no less miraculous, way. Alfheim lacks progressiveness, but Asgard suffers no such fault. In your own time, you and my son will produce the most wonderful child, I know that deep in my heart. But until then, Asgard will wait patiently. Do not let the fear of retribution mar your time here. And do not let your heart be weighed down with a desire unmet—everything happens in its time.”

Loki’s POV

The stone of the wall bites into my fingers as I grip it with unwise force.

Around the corner my mother—my very own mother—encourages the woman I once loved in her future quest to have a child with my brother.

A bitter taste grows in my mouth.

And although I know Y/n does not want to marry Thor—anyone could see that in the way she protested—there is real pain in her eyes.

Pain that I have caused.

I do not know if she aches with the longing for a child. But it’s not a difficult task to surmise the isolation and ridicule she has no doubt been subject to for the last two and a half centuries has weighed on her.

Preventing conception was her decision, yes, but I was the one who made it possible. I put the magic on her, effectively ruining any chance she ever had at being accepted in her home. And if she ever did want a child, but found herself unable, well, I bear the blame for that hurt, too.

It seems no matter what I do, I cannot help but destroy the lives of those I’m supposed to love.

I was so close to entering the dining hall and joining them for breakfast—the first meal I would have shared with my mother in over seven months—but I had heard the end of their conversation before making my presence known.

It’s better that way.

I do not know how well I would have reacted, had I been in their company upon hearing the conversation between Y/n and my mother.

The sound of trumpets interrupts my thoughts, and I teleport away mere seconds before Y/n races by.

Y/n’s POV

The news of Asgard’s victory is unfathomably welcome.

When I hear it, I can’t help but fall to my knees, releasing a shout of joy and thanks to Odin himself, a man I, in fact, really don’t care for.

Thor quickly escorts me away for what he calls a ‘debrief’, but I can see by the set of his shoulders it is more of a transition into spending one-on-one time in our new capacity as fiancés. And while nerves and resentment rattle my stomach, I follow him willingly, eager to hear of the path to victory and how Alfheim fares now.

He wastes little time. The moment we are in the privacy of the gardens, he speaks.

“Your father is alive and well, do not fear. His loyal guardsmen managed to keep Audunn’s forces at bay, though I fear it would been a different outcome if we had not arrived when we did. You did well getting to us so quickly.”

The compliment is unexpected and, I feel, undeserved. “All I really did was relay a message. I am quite thankful, then, to you, your father, and your army for coming so quickly to Alfheim’s aid. Surely this will cement positive diplomatic relations for years to come.”

A strange look crosses through his eyes as he looks away from me, choosing instead to squint into the sun. “Spoken like a politician. I see you learned much in your time away.”

I catch the edge to his voice. “You do not approve?”

“I didn’t say that, I only mean that it is…unusual in Alfheim for women to be so involved.”

I fight the urge to scoff bitterly. “I wouldn’t have called myself involved—Father and Audunn would have none of that—but I did pick up some tricks and knowledge in my three hundred years there.”

There’s a slight pause. In that pause, Thor seems to steel himself. I know instantly that I will not like whatever he has to say next. “I wanted to tell you, ah—while your father was successfully restored to the regency, we were able to capture and imprison Audunn rather than having to resort to killing him on the field. He is here, in the dungeons, and will stand trial tomorrow.”

My blood runs cold. “Here? In the castle? Why didn’t you kill him?!” The words come out in breathless gasps, and Thor takes a step towards me in concern.

“You need not fear, Lady Y/n, he is securely guarded. He poses no threat to your father or your people any more.”

Yes. I swallow. But now that we are in the same place once again, I worry of the threat he poses to me.

Thor attempts to continue our walk with lighter conversation, but I don’t pay him much mind. All I can focus on is the terrifying reality that, as long as Audunn lives, my own life is in danger.

Loki’s POV

When the moon is high in the sky and the air has turned crisp, I acknowledge the reality that I will get no sleep tonight.

Groaning, I fling the covers from my body and exit my warm bed, dressing quickly. As soon as I’m decent, I exit my chambers, heading straight for the library. I have plenty of books in my room, but nothing I haven’t already read. The library is likely to have a variety of unexplored distractions.

I enter the vast library and turn left, heading for the history section—one of my favorites. I round the corner and am met with a sharp gasp and the sound of clattering books as Y/n jumps back, hitting a shelf.

Surprise and self-loathing mingle within me. She’s terrified of me.

Without really deciding to, I take a step back, showing my lack of intent to harm her. “I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you.”

She exhales, lowering the shaking hands that had come to grip her stomach. “N-no, it is I who should apologize. I….thought you were someone else.”

I raise my eyebrow, buying time as I calculate the truth of her statement. She does seem to be relaxing. Now all that remains is the faint hint of embarrassment in her features. She even offers me a small smile, one that I find unexpectedly welcome. I decide to believe her. “Don’t worry about it. I understand your nerves must be frayed, given all that you’ve been through.” Flashes of what she must have experienced in the past four days come to the forefront of my mind, unbidden. Handled roughly, a dirty jail cell, a hit that would explain the coloring on her lower jaw, the fear as she sneaks through the castle, praying she goes unnoticed—

“Are you alright?”

There’s a note in her voice that suggests some of her apprehension has returned, and I can guess why. My body has gone completely rigid, my fists clenched tightly, and I’m sure I’ve just fixated on the nearest object with a death glare—I can only hope I didn’t direct it at her.

I try to recover the moment. “I’ll get those books.”

She hurriedly drops to the ground, grabbing novels at random. “Let me, Your Highness, I’m the one who—”

I sink next to her and smirk, for some reason desperate to dissolve this strange uncertain air between us. “Last night you barge into my chambers unannounced and tonight we’re back to the formalities?”

She studies me for a moment, looking quite perplexed. Then, she exhales a shaky bark of a laugh. “I suppose so.”

Fair enough.

I straighten, beginning to alphabetize the books and put them back in their proper place. She follows suit, working beside me in silence. I don’t miss the glances she gives me when she thinks I’m not looking. The looks are full of uncertainty, full of trepidation—she has no idea where we stand. For that matter, neither do I.

But there’s no use in finding out, the snide voice within me remarks. She’s engaged to your brother. You will have no chance to know her again as you did once, long ago.

But still, as since the moment she burst through the throne room doors, I war with myself.

I do not want to love her. I have no claim to her. Pursuing her would only lead to heartbreak, and I fear I cannot take any more.

If I were smart, I would push her away as I do everyone else.

I should push her away.

“Why are you in the library so late?” Her voice, stronger now, clouds my head once more and pulls me into conversation.

I have no desire to detail or even acknowledge my crippling nightmares, so I turn the question back on her, hoping to save myself the humiliation of admitting weakness. “I could ask you the same thing.”

She is equally eager to explain her reasonings, and quickly changes the subject. “I saw Lady Naerys this morning. Can you believe she has seven children?”

I chortle, and the sound feels strange coming from my throat. “But alas, not one of them fathered by a prince.” Without really meaning to, I take a step closer to her.

Y/n mocks distress. “But how will she ever become queen now?”

And just like that, we’re back on a subject we both would like to avoid.

I try to steer us away. “I admit that I was pleased when I heard news of your father’s safe return to the regency. You must be very relieved.”

But despite my efforts, a strange look takes over her face. “Yes, I am more relieved than you know.”

I press further, finding myself desperate to know what she’s thinking. “Audunn’s trial will be interesting. I estimate spectators will extend well past the boundaries of the courtroom.”

Again, I have misstepped. The color drains from her face and her hands immediately wring together in tight knots. It seems I have completely forgotten how to speak to this woman I once knew so well. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to—”

“It’s fine.” She cuts me off, staring at my shoulder rather than my face. She takes a deep breath, and when she speaks, her voice is hard, almost as if she’s willing the words to be true. “Soon Audunn will be dead. And all will be well.”

Something in her voice tells me that she is trying harder to convince herself than me.

The desire to comfort her is strong, but I am woefully out of practice. “I…do not see an outcome in which Audunn survives, yes. His choices were unfortunate, and put him at odds with the interests of two of the nine realms. Odin will not let that go unpunished.” I fight against a scowl. Because if anyone had been listening, they would’ve guessed I was talking about myself.

She surprises me with a tight smile. “Yes, you are right. This time tomorrow, Audunn’s execution will be set.”

Again, there’s that hard edge to her voice, one that wasn’t there the last time I encountered her. Whereas before it amused me, now it makes me feel sad. There’s no reason both of us had to be affected so by the world—Fate did that out of cruelty. Perhaps tomorrow after the trial, when her anxieties are further resolved, she will find some peace.

I think to the upcoming trial. She will be asked to bear witness, of course. But I worry of Odin fulfilling his duty to prepare her. I take matters into my own hands. “You know you will be asked to testify against him.”

“Yes.” The word is harsh, quick. But then she looks to the ground and stretches a hand absently to the bookshelf, almost as if she’s seeking some sort of comfort or reassurance from the touch. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, more vulnerable. “I find no pleasure in sending a man to his death. But I will speak honestly. Audunn dug his own grave—it is just my unfortunate duty to send him to it.”

I swallow, unsure of what to say. The last time I saw her, she spoke of no love for her husband, but this seems different…a deeper hurt, somehow. Part of me wants to ask what happened, but a larger part knows I haven’t the right. We are not lovers, we are not friends, and she is currently a married woman. When her status is changed upon the execution of her husband, she will immediately become the betrothed of my brother. So rather than risk hurt and vulnerability, I keep her at arms length. “I would advise you to get some rest, Lady Y/n. I have no doubt tomorrow will be a long and difficult day.”

She avoids my eyes as she curtsies and exits the library. Once she’s gone, I take a much needed deep breath. Something about her presence made the expansive library seem incredibly small, intimate. When she’d gone to curtsey, she’d needed to take a step back, as we had gotten quite close during our discussion.

With a groan, I practically stumble to the bannister overlooking the basement archives, gripping the wood tightly. Attachment to Y/n has never been a good idea, least of all now. But even after many breaths to clear my head, I still find that unwelcome feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling that nearly begs me to follow her from the room and pull her into my arms.

I slam my hand on the wood, startling one of the bookkeepers on the level below. Upon seeing who stands above him, he shrinks away, quickly gathering his books and scurrying out of sight.

That’s right, I think, bitterness bringing an unpleasant taste to my mouth. Run from me. I am dangerous. I am other. No one is safe with me.

Least of all a kind, wonderful woman who, even after hundreds of years, seems to hold the ability to ruin me in the palm of her hand.

A/n Hey guys, sorry for any mistakes! I proofread but I feel like I probably missed something because I’m tired. Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list! What do you think of the conversation with Loki? How do you think Audunn’s trial will go? Stay safe out there :)

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/642883586082635777/odins-ward-chapter-16

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 3 years

Text

Small Time Witch (32)

S I X M O N T H S L A T E R

Vanaheim had been kind to you but it was time to make your next move. Loki had been pardoned on Asgard. The convergence was nigh and preparations for Malekith had begun. Asgard was fortified as a precaution. You thought maybe Malekith wouldn’t bother since the entire universe knew you had the stones. The small council was not so sure. They wanted you locked away in a secure location where he couldn’t find you. You wanted to fight. That’s all you seemed to want these days.

Malekith and Frigga have long been enemies. His brute murdered her when the dark elves invaded Asgard. You would only hide if she hid with you. Being ever stubborn she declined. You didn’t tell her what would happen but, because of your insistence, she could guess. “If it’s my time, it’s my time. I won’t hide.” Everyone in this family was ridiculously stubborn. You fit right in.

Loki fought you ad nauseam about expelling the stones. You refused to even entertain the thought until the convergence was over. He thought the stones were overtaking you. They changed your personality. You argued they just made you stronger and perhaps he was threatened by you. That never failed to spur him into a tirade about how dangerous they were and how no one knew what they were doing to you. The voice in your head told you otherwise. He would prattle on about how they seemed to speak for you. How you had changed. You never listened.

“Mortal are you listening?” It drove you insane when he called you mortal. Just a constant reminder that you were beneath him.

“I am. And I’ve asked you to please stop calling me mortal.”

“Well aren’t you? Are you now unable to die? Have I missed something?”

“As long as I have them I am.”

“And that’s why you shouldn’t have them. Where is my wife? You were not this war mongering battle hardened warrior when I first met you.”

“You prefer me weak? Too afraid of my own shadow?”

He knelt in front of you to look in your eyes. “I have never known you to be weak, Y/N. You were powerful enough.”

You laughed but the smile on your lips never met your eyes. “Just enough that I couldn’t ever take you.”

“Stop it. That’s never mattered to me.”

“Until I became stronger than you.”

He picked up a pillow off of the bed and smashed it into his face. He let out a deep growl out of sheer frustration. “Your new found obsession with power is exactly why I am worried. They need you. They are like parasites and you are their host. You feed them, darling. Of course they don’t want to give you up.”

“And what if I do release them? What then? Do we just wait for the next maniac to use them against us?”

“Then we keep them locked in the vault.”

“Oh yeah, because Odin’s vault has never been breached.”

“Only by me.” He hated fighting with you. Absolutely loathed it. You kept putting off the release of the stones but he wouldn’t give up. You were scared they would fall into the wrong hands. He was afraid they already had. The only other person who was in your corner was Odin.

Loki knew his father all too well. He was not interested in what you wanted but what your power could do for him. He treated you like his own sentient weapon. Your daddy issues completely clouded your judgement in regards to Odin. He doted on you. Called you his daughter. You lapped it up. When Loki or Thor would say something he would laugh it off and say they were jealous that he had a new favorite child. After Asgard was safe, they thought it was time for you to go back to Midgard for a while for an extended holiday. Maybe your family could talk some sense into you.

“My love. My little queen. Please don’t be cross with me. I am simply worried for your safety and sanity. Don’t you want to leave all of this behind? Perhaps we can start our family. I’ve longed to see you with child.”

Your voice was quiet, “That’s not my dream. It’s yours. You know how I feel about having children. Can’t we just go on forever having adventures?”

“Pet, I have had my fun. I just want to start a family and be settled. I don’t care if I ever ride into another battle. Children or not, I just want this constant upheaval to end. I quite liked our life on Midgard. I actually miss television. Why don’t we go back and rebuild our little cottage? Will you at least think about it?”

You kissed the tip of his nose, “I will. When this is all over, I will agree to take extended leave and visit my family.”

—————————————————————

The day Malekith invaded was like deja vu for Loki except he was not in the dungeon. The dark elves were unable to breech the outer reaches of Asgard so they moved on to Greenwich where he and Thor would meet. Against your better judgement (and certainly Loki’s), you jumped the portal to help Thor. You served as nothing but a distraction. Thor was nearly crushed by Malekith’s ship. Had it not been for Dr. Selvig, Thor would have been killed.

Your magic destroyed half of a library and a lot more property. When law enforcement arrived they thanked Thor for his help. You, on the other hand, were put in shackles and taken into custody. Thor tried to stop them but they were under strict orders from the World Security Council to take you in.

You tried to break free for your bonds but your magic wouldn’t work. “Stop resisting, Princess.” one of the Interpol officers shouted. They didn’t have regular guns pointed at you. They looked like ray guns or something you’d see in a sci fi movie. Thor rushed behind you asking where you were being taken. They muttered something about an Air Force base as officers held him back.

“I’m coming, little sister! Just hang on.”

They had you locked in the back of a van that was caged and padded. A thick metal partition separated you from the driver. The doors on the back were also thick metal. Three officers wearing helmets rushed in in a practiced military style drill. Keeping their weapons trained on you, one officer stood in front of you and pressed a button that magnetized your restraints. He stuck your hands to a small but sturdy loop on the bench you sat on. Another officer put a mutant inhibitor collar around your neck while the third jabbed a needle in your arm. “Nighty night, Princess.”

When you awoke your head was pounding. There was a jumpsuit on the small table next to you. On the floor were socks and slippers. The collar was pretty heavy and seemed to grab at your skin when you pulled. “It won’t come off Mrs. Odinson” a voice said. There was a speaker just above the door.

“Where am I?”

“Change into your jumps.”

“Where am I? Don’t make me ask again.”

“Change into your jumps, prisoner.”

You tried to use your magic but only a tiny spark flickered between your hands.

Your cell doors opened and a familiar face stood in front of you. “Ma’am. I’m Coulson. Come with me.”

“Wait. Aren’t you...”

“Dead? As in your husband killed me? Yeah. Something like that.” He stood in the doorway looking at you expectantly. “Unless you’d rather stay here.”

You followed behind him flipping off the speaker when you left. “Can you remove this collar, Coulson?”

“Please forgive me if I’m not super trusting.”

“Understandable I guess. Where are you taking me?”

“New York. Into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. It’s the only way the US government will release you. Part of the MCA.”

“MCA?”

“Mutant Control Act. You’re an unregistered omega level mutant. Your powers, as defined by the government, are unlimited. You’re dangerous.”

“So when I’m on Earth, I am a prisoner?”

“When you’re on Earth? You think you’re leaving? You belong to us now.”

He took you along to an airstrip where you boarded a small plane. He helped you into your seat, shackled your wrists and ankles and bid you a safe flight.

——————————————————————

Thor was too scared to tell Loki you were captured. He would have been pissed at the both of you. If he thought you were in danger he would rip Midgard apart to find you. The only person he knew to contact was Steve Rogers.

In Tony’s infinite wisdom, he named Steve his successor of sorts. He called him the Chief Moral Compass of the company. That gave Steve all kinds of contacts and diplomatic immunity in 46 countries.

Steve met your flight at the base in New York. Coulson was thrilled to see Steve again but he wouldn’t release you. He got into the backseat and went with you to the facility where you’d be staying.

You waited for several hours in a holding room. You hadn’t eaten in a couple of days and your body was exhausted without the stones to prop you up. You fell asleep with your head on the table. Finally Steve came in to wake you.

“Hey, Y/N. You’re free to go. Get this collar off of her now!” he said to an agent.

“Can we grab something to eat? I haven’t had anything in a couple of days.”

He planted his hands on his hips and clenched his jaw. You were freaking Asgardian royalty and a human being. Surely that earned you some respect. He was livid. “Seriously, guys? You couldn’t have gotten her food? My apologies, Princess.”

“I would kill for a slice. Ever hear of Joe’s Pizza in Brooklyn?”

He smiled, “Best in New York. How do you know about that place?”

“I was in love with a guy from Brooklyn once.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“He couldn’t handle who I was.”

Steve chuckled to himself, “Then he didn’t deserve you.”

——————————————————————

Pending a hearing, you were released to your mother’s care. You absolutely could not prevent Loki from coming any longer. When he landed you were sitting in the open space where your house would be built.

“This is the perfect spot isn’t it?” You were picking blades of grass and letting them fall through your fingers.

“Afelheim has ample space for cottage building. No cable though. I guess this rules out our extended holiday.” He sat next to you and you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I think this is our extended holiday. My hearing isn’t for another month.”

“You know what you did was careless and stupid right? Also incredibly arrogant. Thor didn’t need your help.”

“I know. I don’t know what came over me. It’s like I wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t. The stones were. While we’re stuck here, I’d like to get as many people as possible involved in removing them and healing you. That’s even if you can be healed. Your body could be riddled with cancer like poor Jane.”

“Well I’ve saved her from that fate.”

“Not yourself. If I lost you....”

“You’re not losing me.”

You snuggled against him and he kissed the top of your head. He no longer tried to hide his feelings from you. He was afraid. You just found each other again and he was afraid he would lose you. The old Loki would have run screaming. This Loki would fight for you. And, if he had to, he would follow you into Hel. Maybe he was selfish in that regard. He lost you once. Never again.

#loki of jotunheim #loki fanfic #loki of asgard #loki odinson #loki x you #loki x reader #loki smut #witch #mcu witches #small time witch

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