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sachiko1309 · 4 months

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You shall have me

Summary: After a long and draining day, Legolas takes care of his girl in the most pleasurable way he knows...

Word count: 3048

Warnings: smut with some plot, oral, rougher sex, Dom! Legolas, sub! reader, mentioning of poly, Legolas being a tease. This contains adult content. Minors DNI!!

This is part of a fanfiction I write on Wattpad. Its called "the prophecy of the elven warrior" A fanfiction dealing with Visha the main character drawn between the Commander of the marchwardens and the prince of Mirkwood. Feel free to check it out, as I am almost finished with updating it. 😉🥰

He took me out of Haldirs arms, pulling me into a tight hug. “God, how I missed doing that all day.” He mumbled into my hair and I instantly relaxed against his chest, taking in his soft floral sent, that was so different to Haldirs strong sent of pine. Behind me, I could hear Haldir move around, seeing him vanish out of the door out of the corner of my eye. I knew it was his way of giving me and Legolas some well needed privacy.

The ellon holding me, immediately picked me up and pressed me against the wall. Out of reflex, I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders. Legolas narrowed his eyes, as desire slowly pushed itself to the front. I swallowed and looked up at him, at those beautiful blue eyes that had grown dark with need. When I ran my tongue over my lips, I heard him groan. "And?" I asked, heat pooling in my stomach. "What else did you miss?"

Legolas dipped his head, his lips just above my collar bone. "You." He whispered. Hot breaths fanning over my skin made me close my eyes and whimper out in lust, goosebumps rising all over my skin. "I want you." He repeated, his voice a low grumble against my skin.

I swallowed hard, as he pressed up against me, the feeling of his hard cock straining against his pants making my breathing go rigid. His hands let go of my waist; his lips skimming up to my ear. A sound rose from the back of my throat, something that felt like a purr. Warmth and desire washed over me again, and I grabbed onto Legolas collar, saying: "And you shall have me, however you wish to have me."

He pulled back, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with passion. After the next inhale, his lips crushed onto mine. I was pulled into a darkened tunnel of desire. His kisses were deep, drugging me senseless. His tongue, all warm, luscious, and sinful, licked and probed its way into the warmth of my mouth. Whimpering helplessly, I looped my arms around his neck. My body already throbbing and aching, arousal pooling between my thighs, and he had just started kissing me.

There was no need to be hurried like those times in the middle of the night, when I helped him sneak into Haldir and my bedroom. His mouth devoured mine, leaving me breathless, and him oblivious to me working frantically on his clothes. “Slowly meleth.” He groaned when he felt his vest coming undone. “Slowly.”

Legolas grabbed my wrists to stop me. “Slowly.” He pulled away just enough, his mouth barely hovering over my lips. “Let’s make tonight count, hmmm?” His eyes had grown dark and dangerous. “How…” I started, but his warm breath fanning over my skin made reel up in need. Like Haldir, he was able to make me go weak in the knees just by the way he touched me, and he knew it. “How slow are we talking about?” I was finally able to press out.

“Very slow.” He whispered before dragging my face in for a kiss. “So slow…” He savored the lusciousness of his words. “…that by the time I’m done with you, you won't have an ounce of strength left in that beautiful body of yours.” He wore a wicked grin on his face, walking us over to the sofa in front of the fireplace. He gently laid me down, hovering over me before pressing a searing kiss to my cheek, just as gentle as when he laid me down.

“I’m gonna eat your pretty little pussy, nin iell.” He gingerly kissed me, fiddling with the strings of my dress. I was stunned at his sudden change in demeanor. Normally he wasn’t the one to demand things from me, leaving the rougher part to Haldir. But it seemed the more time we spent together, the bolder he got. Finally, ablet to loosen my dress enough, he shuffled it up my body, pulling it over my head.

“Fuck.” he breathed. “Feels like you’re trying to kill me, meleth.” Keeping his place between my legs, his arms trailed up my chest, playing with my tits. “So fucking gorgeous…” Placing my hands on his wrists, encouraging him to continue, I sighed “Legolas…” Head thrown back. I could swear his eyes darkened by four shades, swallowing his pretty blues into the abyss of his lust.

Moving from his place between my legs to help me remove my underwear in one swift motion, quickly getting right back to business as soon as he was able to. Once he was settled back between my thighs again, I could feel his hands gripping them tightly. “Such a pretty pussy you’ve got here, little one.” His face was so close to my center, his breath fanned against my skin with every word he said. “Can’t believe you’ve kept it from me for so long.�� Littering my thighs with kiss after kiss, each time getting closer to my core.

“I haven’t.” I breathed out, my voice audibly shaking at his actions. He just tutted at my words. “I had to wait nearly 3000 years for you to step into my life. Only to then see you being married to another man. Forced to sneak around everyone’s back, only to be with you.”

My hands made their way to his hair, gently grasping his hair and tugging to emphasize my need for him. “Please, Legolas…”

“Please what, melui iell?” He mocked coyly.

“You know what.” My hips began to rise from the sofa, searching for some relief.

“Uh uh.” He moved his head further from where I wanted it the most. “I wanna hear you say it for me.”

“I… can you… I want you to eat me out, please?” Squeezing my eyes shut, not being able to look at him, as he finally connected his lips with my center. “Oh my GOD!” His tongue traced my clit lightly, barely giving much stimulation, but even that was enough to make my legs starting to quiver.

While his tongue tracing my clit felt absolutely amazing, nothing prepared me for feeling his tongue tracing along my soaked slit, before delicately prodding inside of me. “Holy shit, melethron!” I shrieked out, his tongue trailing back to my clit before I felt his finger slowly enter my pussy. He raised his mouth from my center, looking me straight into my eyes. “By Valar, how I love this.” His voice was nearly a growl. “That sweet pussy of yours hooked me the moment I had my first taste. And by all what is mighty, I will never stop worshipping it.”

He was passionate about pleasing me, humming at my skin. Making sure to wait for me to relax, welcoming the pleasure rather than being surprised by it, before he slowly started to thrust the single digit in and out of my core. I tossed my head back against the pillows at the feeling of his long fingers reaching parts of me that I could never reach myself.

“Fuck!” His finger found the perfect spot inside of me, curling to massage it gently and bringing me closer to the edge. My pussy pulsating in rhythm with his thrusts, the wet and messy sounds of my pleasure filling the room. I felt him moan, even more as he brought his free hand up my chest, pinching and pulling my nipple before switching to the neglected breast, simultaneously adding a second finger.

I cried out for him. “I’m so close, please don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” My back began to arch off the sofa, as his ministrations went on, his fingers pounding into my pussy as his lips continued to suck eagerly at my clit. “Oh my…” I rasped, my voice hoarse and thin. “Legolas!” I yelled, as my orgasm washed over my all the sudden. Riding it out, as he refused to cease his actions on my body until I couldn’t take any more and ha to pull him away.

“I need you.” I said timidly, my gaze on the floor. “I need you inside of me.” It was weird telling him what I needed, having never spoken to him during sex other than the occasional begging, but it made me feel brave and…sexy. Legolas let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

"Do you need me, too?" I asked, my hand fingering the hem of his tunic. Where was this braveness coming from? I slipped my hand underneath his clothes, gently shoving the fabric down his shoulders. He got the hint, getting up from his knees and undressing himself, making a show for me to watch. He was tall and lean, like most elves were. His fair skin, scattered with scars from the many fights he had been in, giving his soft appearance a slight hint of roughness, that had me reeling in desire.

"You sound so needy.” He growled, watching me intently as I laid there, spreading my legs for him. "Is it me that's gotten you like this? Or your husband?" He shook his head, a cocky grin appearing on his lips. And I whined at his words when he included Haldir. "You are such a slut." He grinned, grabbing me by my neck and pulling me across the sofa to have more space to settle between my legs. But he didn’t. Standing next to me, he looked down with a smirk.

"I am more than ready to fuck you in front of him, too, if you want me to." He said, his voice a tad gentler. "I would fuck you in my father’s throne room to claim you." A hot shiver ran down my spine and fluttered inside my core. "I would have fucked my cum so deep inside you, until you are a crying mess for everyone to hear. And then I would have you walk back here. Nothing more than a ripped dress covering you, barely doing anything to keep your modesty, all while my cum runs down your thigh."

I winced at his word, closing my legs in embarrassment. Did he really mean that? "Legolas…" I started, "…that’s…" I was cut off with a loud moan pushing through my lips as he inserted two fingers. His fingers curled once more, and with it, my toes. "This pussy belongs to me." He pumped his fingers inside of me, slowly crawling on top of me. "Your pussy belongs to me."

Without a warning, his fingers abandoned my needy core, and taking their place was his cock. The thickness stretching me out, as the head of his penis pressed against my puffy walls. He pulled out quickly, then bottomed out once more. His hands gripped my hips in a bruising hold, his thrusts just as rough. I cried out each time he filled me up. It was too much, but not enough at the same time. He had never fucked me like this before, and I relished in it. Relished in the way Legolas balls slapped against me with a wet snap. Relished in the way he made a mess of me; my wetness being smeared around between us.

"I belong to you." I whimpered, back arching and hands gripped his biceps, as my nails dug into his flesh. Legolas thrusts faltered and he finally looked at me. He pulled me flush to his chest, my bare breasts against him. Gripping my chin and looking deep into my eyes. "Say it again."

"I'm yours, Legolas. Body and soul." I repeated, my voice slightly muffled by his fingers gripping my chin hard. Picking up his pace again, he let go of my face, grabbing both of my hands and burying them beneath his fingers.

Like a ravenous predator, his eyes meet mine. A pleasure visible inside of them, that was beyond my wildest dreams, the high I so desperately yearned for just a tad too far to reach. “Please.” I whimpered, finally completely pushed over the edge and into submission. His previously slow pace got replaced by a more moderate one that had me gasping for air. The searing heat returning, yet this time it is more than welcomed, much like his cock, leaving not a spot untouched in its way.

“Legolas…” I whispered, not able to do much more than moan or plead his name. My head hung back, lips parted and back arching as I gave myself into his hands. Soon my moans were accompanied by his groans, showing how much this affected him as well. It was the sound of his voice, growling my name followed by a string of elvish curses, that dragged me towards my release in fast steps.

“My prince…” I breathed out, loud enough to catch his attention. “More…” Arching my back against his chest, unable to fight his strong hold that held me in place as he pounded into me mercilessly. “M-More, please” I rasped.

His response was letting go of one hand and grabbing ahold of my hips, as he kept on driving himself in as deep as possible, knocking the air straight out of my lungs, leaving me clutching onto his shoulder and hand. “It’s as if you are trying to send me over the edge.” His voice was low, unsteady. A mere shadow of its usual self. “My pretty petal, so eager to be ruined.” I was unable to even process his words. All I could sense was him, so I shrieked, when he let go of me and roughly manhandled my legs upwards.

With knees now brought to my chest, I could do nothing but claw at the pillows, as his strong hold kept me in place. The feeling of his cock more prominent than ever, as blind spots were slowly taking over my vision.

“Legolas!” I yelped, but my train of thought got interrupted by another thrust.

“This is what you requested, is it not?”

A mewl ripped from my throat, a series of pants and gasps filling the room before my jaw was in his grasp once more; forcing my gaze upon him. “It is what you begged me for. To give you more, is it not?”

Not being able to do much more than gape, I parted my lips, staring into baby blue hues now wild and firm, boring into my soul. Even though I stared at him, I could not focus on anything, all my attention on the snapping of his hips, the feeling of his tip touching that one bundle of nerves that made me cry out in desperation. “Th-There - There!”

My words were jumbled and slurred; my brain drunk from the bliss overtaking my body one tidal wave after another. I bucked my hips, frantic for that sensation to grow stronger. “Here?’’ He drove into my core again, prompting my eyes to fall back into my head. The only word I was able to say being his name and hushed pleads, interrupted by countless gasps, and mewls.

A familiar feeling started to rise within the pit of my stomach, sending all my senses into overload. It was blistering, devastating, and I was unsure how much longer I could hold on. With Legolas fingers now capturing my clit between his thumb and forefinger, combined with the heat of his kisses on my neck and shoulder, it was beyond what I could have ever asked for.

Searing, hot, like a rapid, undying fire my body started burning. With eyes barely opening I tried to warn him, yet my core did it for me. Walls clamping down, earning a curse in his mother tongue, as fresh, red marks now stained the skin of my hips.

“C-Can’t - I can’t.” I cried out, but he cut me off with his lips, dragging me into a kiss full of passion. Hunger, vigor, intense and demanding, that’s what crossed my mind as he kissed me. “Come, my princess.” His voice almost drowning in the hurdled cry that left my mouth after he parted from the kiss. “Come for me.”

It’s all I needed to hear, to finally shatter around him. My vision turning blurry, as a violent jerk overtaking my body, all the nerves tensed and contracted in pure bliss. It was blinding and fierce, and in a fervid moment, I arched my back, finally releasing the blistering heat inside of my body with a cry of his name. Surely heard by all elves of Mirkwood.

Trembling, that was all I could do. My frame hit the sheets, head spinning, as I was gasping for air. And I barely even noticed Legolas being brought to his own release a shuddering growl of my name falling from his lips. The once fervent snaps melting into nothing but a few bucks until he steadily came to a stop.

Once more, my swollen lips were captured by his own, slower, gentler this time, but still as passionate as ever. Unable to come up with much resistance, I merely hummed and leaned into him; sighing as his length retreated from my core, leaving behind an empty feeling.

It took a moment for him to gather his composure, but soon he got up, he was making a run for the bathroom to get a towel to clean me up. At least that’s what I assumed; my head still too fogged up to really comprehend anything beyond the tingly feeling inside my body. Within seconds, he was back, kissing every part of my body he could reach while cleaning me up. “Rest.” It was a quiet whisper. “You did so well, meleth nin.” He sighed, pressing a peck to my mouth. “But for now, rest.”

I could feel him picking me up and carrying me through the room. The next thing I noticed was being sat down on a soft surface and a second warm body cuddling behind me. The smell of pine filled my nose and I immediately relaxed. “Haldir…” I whimpered, trying to turn around, but he firmly held me in place. “Shh, nin iell. Its alright. Sleep now. We are here.” Closing my eyes, I registered Legolas climbing into the bed as well. Cuddling into his side, I fell asleep, Haldir pressed against my back.

#fem reader #smut #legolas smut #legolas x reader #legolas #lotr #legolas greenleaf

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drchucktingle · 9 months

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DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #3

hello buckaroos and WELCOME BACK for another edition of DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS. as before please remember there are huge spoilers ahead and you should absolutely not read this way if you have not already read camp damascus. however if you are all finished with the dang book then trot right ahead.

this is the third in a series of posts so if you are just now finding this way you should probably trot on back and start from the first post here are links

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #1

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #2

(EDIT: PART 4 IS HERE)

alright buckaroo now that this is out of the dang way lets dive right in. WARNING: CAMP DAMASCUS SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT

DECONSTRUCTING DAMASCUS #3: HOLY AS HECK

i have talked a lot about way of layers that make up camp damascus. previously we tackled FAIRYTALE LAYER and this time we will focus on way of BIBLICAL LAYER.

FAIRYTALE layer makes for pretty complete allegory that stretches from beginning to end of story. it moves in specific order to create a full narrative. however BIBLICAL layer is much more abstract in its trot, taking in bits and pieces from various religious stories and texts and ideas and letting them weave over the top of each other. because of this, i will not be as explicit with TRUE MEANING as i have with other posts, but i will give the buckaroos some starter information on their journey to pick this one apart.

FIRST lets see what the bible has to say about some of these characters

ISAIAH is one of the first characters we meet in chapter one of camp damascus, and although he is not around for the rest of the story, his early appearance has a lot to say metaphorically. ISAIAH in the bible says this in ISAIAH 17:1 - 'a prophecy against damascus: 'see, damascus will no longer be a city, but will become a heap of ruins.''

there is a contemporary language bible name of MSG that translates isaiahs prophecy to this 'a message concerning damascus: “watch this: damascus undone as a city, a pile of dust and rubble! her towns emptied of people. the sheep and goats will move in and take over the towns as if they owned them—which they will!'

in other words if you read into name of this character in first few pages you can unlock everything about the trot of the demons and what happens the last few pages of the book.

another interesting name is SAUL GREEN. in bible saul is known for his CONVERSION ON THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS.

i will write out book of ACTS 9 where this story appears in the bible (gonna cut out a few things to make shorter for you but i will keep line numbers)

ACTS 9 (talkin about saul)

3 as he journeyed he came near damascus, and suddenly a light shone around him from heaven.

6 so he, trembling and astonished, said, “lord, what do you want me to do?”

then the lord said to him, “arise and go into the city, and you will be told what you must do.”

7 and the men who journeyed with him stood speechless, hearing a voice but seeing no one.

8 then saul arose from the ground, and when his eyes were opened he saw no one. but they led him by the hand and brought him into damascus.

9 and he was three days without sight, and neither ate nor drank.

AND THAT IS THAT BUCKAROOS. thing to consider here is that saul green went to camp damascus. he was asked to go not taken like the others (he is counselor) and on his journey he could not see (this is metaphor for memory loss) yet he walked away full of faith.

final name i would like to talk about is WILLOW. she is seen as heathen and seductress by community, especially by LISA DARLING who is roses mother. lisa is righteous and ANGRY, painting herself as the CORRECT and HOLY voice, while believing willow is a sinner and bad influence.

near end of book we learn willows legal name is MAGDALENE which is reference to mary magdalene. in bible mary magdalene is a bud of jesus, they are always hanging out and trotting around together. it is believed by most that mary magdalene was a prostitute (or former prostitute) although this is not specifically in the dang text so who the heck knows.

marys story is about the townspeople treating her badly because of her reputation, believing THEY are the morally superior folks and she is the sinner. HOWEVER jesus will not condemn mary. stepping in jesus says 'actually you townsfolk are wrong, this is my bud, who the heck are YOU to judge? you are all much worse'

so in case of camp damascus this is reflected as a way of saying, 'actually lisa, according to the bible story YOU are the ignorant one for judging willow (mary magdalene) YOU ARE IN THE WRONG.' once you connect these dots you begin to see that lisas main character trait is JUDGEMENT (like in walking game)

a few more quick notes:

all demons mentioned in camp damascus, as well as additional occult texts mentioned like THE BOOK OF THE SACRED MAGIC OF ABRAMELIN THE MAGE, are actual demon titles and real books.

there is a chapter in camp damascus titled STRAIGHT STREET. the main road down middle of the actual city of damascus is 'straight street'

the innermost layer of hell being cold is actually what is written in dantes DEVINE COMEDY. this is the ninth circle of hell and it is described as a freezing, icy landscape where buckaroos are buried up to their necks in ice and tortured.

finally i will leave you buckaroos reading this with an image of a REAL PAINTING name of THE HOLY FAMILY WITH THE MAYFLY. this is an actual painting from 1495. as you can see there is tiny mayfly in the bottom right corner. nobody knows why it is there

#deconstructing damascus #spoilers

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mrs-illyrian-baby · 4 months

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 13

Glorious Magnificent Goddess | Loki x Reader

You and Loki retreat to his hideaway to recouperate after your run in with Lugh. Loki helps you practice your magic again as well as rewarding you for your bravery. But how far can you really escape a God?

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, lots of praise, possessive Loki, making out, teasing, oral ( f receiving), p in v, cockwarming (if you squint), dirty talk but also…angst, emotional hurt/comfort.

A/N: This is mostly smut but there's definitely some plot there too. Please don't judge me for my terrible prophecy writing.

Also this chapter wouldn't have been written with nearly so much smut in it if I hadn't been so sexually frustrated reading @lokisgoodgirl 's The Lakes series. There's no little Tesco here and we're far from The Lakes but this chapter is dedicated to you :)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

—

Somewhere between your sheer terror of being kidnapped and Loki’s sweeping rescue of you from the floor, you’d passed out. When you woke you were lying on a sofa in front of a roaring fire, the logs crackling merrily in time with the soft low hum of Loki’s voice.

You turned your head to see him moving deftly around a small kitchen, pouring steaming soup into a bowl while he sang quietly. At first you didn’t recognise the words, but the more you listened and allowed the song to wash over you, the more you understood. He sang of home, of love and comfort, songs that spoke to the very bones of you until you melted into the cushions and blankets, at peace. Somewhere deep down your memories hummed back, even if you couldn’t remember the words yet.

He turned, still singing the last of the tune, and smiled gently. In the firelight he looked shockingly ethereal compared to his domestic surroundings, his hair glossy and dark, tumbling about his shoulders in almost cherubic curls. The shirt he’d worn under his suit was now only loosely tucked into his trousers, the collar undone and his sleeves rolled up just past his elbows.

“You’re awake,” he knelt next to you, cupping your face in his hands and drawing you close, kissing you so tenderly you thought you might still be asleep, dreaming of being awoken by Prince Charming.

“Was I dreaming? We went on that stupid mission and it was awful -” you scrunched your face the memory. “Do you think it’s always that chaotic?”

“It wasn’t a dream, Darling, unfortunately. We were intercepted by someone.”

It came rushing back, the man’s hands grabbing at you, the blinding light he seemed to be able to control and the spear he wielded. But then, you’d had a spear too, and armour, silver and velvet and flame. You looked down at your clothes, the armour was gone and in its place was one of Loki’s soft cotton shirts.

“I knew him, I think. I saw a memory with him in, and my mother, they were friends. He said his name was Lugh and we were in his home, it was snowing - But I was younger then. And I saw one of the men who - who -”

Loki placed a steadying hand on your arm, remaining by your side, his eyes darting over your face and searching for any trace of pain or suffering. “Hush, darling, let’s not talk of it now. You’ve had a trying time, rest and we can talk of it in the morning.

“But I’ve seen him before, Loki, I have and-” You sighed, falling back on the sofa. “I wish I could just remember.”

Loki kissed your cheek and moved back to the kitchen, “well, this Lugh, he frightened you and I will not tolerate that. Here, I made you soup, you should eat and get some strength back.” He placed the tray on an oak coffee table and piled cushions onto the floor for you to sit on.

Sliding down onto the nest of pillows, you allowed yourself to look around the room, it was small but cosy, furnished with solid oak and thick, luxurious fabrics in velvet, knits and heavy wool plaid. Large cushions backed the sofa and chairs while the walls were lined with books old and new.

“Where are we?” You asked, blowing on the warm soup before taking a small sip from your spoon.

“A secret place, a cabin. We’re still in America, if that’s what you were wondering. Those ridiculous spangled idiots showed up and blew our cover so I needed to retreat quickly. I can teleport, but not very far, and this was the nearest place I could drive to after we were far enough away.” Loki said, matter of factly, before joining you on the floor and dunking a thick crust of bread into your soup.

“Hey, that’s mine,” you reached a foot out to kick him gently and he laughed, pulling it into his lap.

“Share, Ásynja , don’t be selfish,” he smiled, dipping again but offering you the bread between his fingers.

“I didn’t know you lived anywhere else.” You’d always imagined that when he wasn’t at the compound Loki retreated to some icy fortress covered in black and green furnishings. Something dramatic and luxurious, you certainly hadn’t imagined a cosy log cabin.

“I like to have a few retreats, a few bolt holes here and there. Plus Brunnhilde uses them from time to time when she’s on official business, hotels aren’t really her style, she prefers to deplete my stores of whisky and mead.” Loki didn’t look upset though, he seemed pleased to be able to offer somewhere comfortable and inviting.

“I would’ve thought showing off in the lap of luxury would be right up your street.” You teased, Loki liked the finer things in life and there was no way you were complaining when he extended such luxuries to you too. But there was something so satisfying about teasing the god of Mischief.

“Oh, yes, it is,” his smile morphed from playful into predatory, his voice dropping an octave into that rough rumble that made you melt, “but it’s the privacy we enjoy. We’re in the middle of nowhere, my Darling-”

“And no one can hear me scream?” You joked, raising your eyebrows.

“Exactly.” He tugged on your leg again, before reaching forwards and pulling you into his lap. Beneath the wool slacks he was already hard, the firm length of him straining against the zip. His shirt was loose on you, rucked up around your waist to accommodate your spread legs and you were mercifully bare beneath.

“Loki,” you breathed, pressing yourself down into his embrace, moulding your bodies together. Between your thighs he throbbed, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, reigniting your adrenaline.

Loki’s large hands slid up your back, one splayed wide cupping your waist, the other on the back of your neck, tipping your head down so he could growl against your lips, “I love when you say my name,” he nipped at your bottom lip and you kissed back, sucking his tongue into your mouth like you were ravenous. “My Ásynja , take what you need my darling, I am yours, at your mercy, my breathtaking Goddess.”

Together you fell backwards onto the rug, Loki breaking your fall and gently laying you down beside him. His hands ghosted down your side, barely touching you while his magic melted your clothes away leaving you both glowing in the firelight.

“You were magnificent tonight, a true goddess of the Aesir, I -” His hands fluttered over you, his eyes trying to take you all in at once.

You had never seen Loki lost for words before and it was a glorious feeling, knowing that you had reduced him to this.

“I have to have you, darling, can’t keep my hands from you.” He growled, touching every inch of your bared skin.

“I couldn’t have done it without you though, Loki.” You assured him, kissing along his broad shoulders, inhaling the rich scent of him, so close.

“Ah, my darling one, I did nothing.” He closed his eyes, luxuriating in the feel of you, each kiss like a butterfly's wings brushing against his skin.

“Wait-” You sat up, “you didn’t do anything?”

“No, did you think I had some part to play?” He looked at you quizzically, “you think I conjured a burning spear? Silver armour?”

“Well - I -” He curled an eyebrow at you, encouraging you to complete your thought. “I did that? That was me?”

“Of course” he laughed out the words, surprised that you weren’t already aware.

“Well. Okay.” You lay back on the rug and stared at the ceiling, unabashed in your nakedness, and Loki fought the urge to simply climb on top of you.

“Hmmm, indeed.” Instead he traced his finger over your sternum and between your breasts, down to your belly button and then over your hip. Tingling goosebumps erupted in his wake and you watched as he skipped from your hip to where the bracelet he gave you still circled your wrist. “Besides, if I had created armour for you, it would be in green and gold.” He murmured, bending to place a kiss on the delicate skin below the bracelet.

“Would it now, have you thought of how you’d dress me for battle?” Now it was your turn to lift an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you show me how you’d prepare me for battle.”

Loki gave you a predator’s smile before pulling you closer. “Too many clothes required for battle, darling, how about we practise the celebration instead?”

As you drifted in and out of sleep the memory of Loki’s hands on you followed your sleeping thoughts, his hands spread wide on your thighs, squeezing and kneading while he feasted on you, his body supplicant before you, worshipping as he’d promised. You writhed, rolling closer to him and hooking your leg over his. There was still a deep ache within you, a roiling of your magic needing release and bubbling to the surface in your whimpers and bucking hips.

Loki stirred beside you and pulled you closer, your naked body was bed warm and soft compared to his perpetually cooler constitution and it felt good to be thawed by your presence. He cupped your cheek, turning your sleeping face so he could look over your features. There was still a tendency for your eye colour to shift without you realising, but everything else had settled and now every time he looked at you the same beautiful face shone back.

He kissed you on your forehead, revelling in the gentle smile that spread across your lips, he kissed your cheek and nose, moving across your face until your eyelashes fluttered and you snuggled closer, fingers digging into his sides. Slowly, so slowly, he moved down your neck, pressing kisses onto your collarbone and nuzzling into the swell of your breast, he laved wet kisses onto your nipples, blowing cold air over the sensitive flesh just to watch them pebble and tighten before him.

Loki’s kisses were featherlight, meltingly soft but you needed more, craved more. Light flared within you and, behind the grate, the fire crackled in response, burning blue and filling the room with light.

He lifted his head watching you with lust blown eyes.

“Incredible, my darling goddess, do it again,” he encouraged, kissing lower until he could nip at your soft belly, his thumbs pressing into your hips to stop you from lifting upwards. “Do it again and I’ll give you anything you want, name your price.”

“I can’t,” you whined, giving up on struggling in favour of looping your leg over his muscular shoulder.

“You can,” he traced his nose lower, lower, the point of his tongue guiding him until he hovered over your aching core. “You can do it, Ásynja , you are powerful and strong, you control the fire, you control the light, show me, make me tremble before you.” His words were a whisper, a prayer, his eyes locked with yours despite the lewd poke of his tongue from between his pink lips.

Frustrated you dropped your head back onto the rug and the fire roared again, the candles dotted around the room flickered. Between your legs Loki smiled again, murmuring something in the same old norse language that you were still trying to remember. But it was hard to care what he was saying when he was teasing you so deliciously, his tongue writing every sinful thing he wanted to do.

“Please, Loki.” You hummed, tugging on the long strands of his silky hair in an effort to move him.

“A moment more, my darling one.” He cooed, sucking on the inside of your thigh while his fingers entered you slowly, curling into your fluttering walls.

“You promised me anything,” you gasped, heat pooling between your legs, Loki marvelled as your arousal slicked down his fingers.

“I did, and what does my most wonderful Goddess require of me?” He asked, his voice hoarse with lust.

“Fuck me, Loki- ugh,” he felt you clench around him, so soft yet so strong, and he knew he needed to have you just as much. “Fuck me like you mean it, I’m your Goddess, yours, take me, worship me, and make me yours.” You reached down and squeezed his hard cock as you spoke, watching his mouth fall open at the pressure.

With a growl, Loki prowled up your prone body, hooking your leg around his waist as he settled over you. All you could see was the curtain of his hair, the sharp lines of his face and his glittering eyes. The swell of his cock between your legs was hot and heavy, a tease of what was to come. It felt like it had been so long since you were alone together that you were desperate, clawing, inching your hips up until he was notched at your entrance, waiting.

“Please,” you begged, breathlessly and he slid home in a single thrust, filling you to the brim and binding you together. “Oh! Loki!”

“Yes, that’s it my darling,” he began to thrust, rolling his hips to rub against your clit with every movement. “Say my name.”

“Loki, Loki, Loki.” His name became a chant in time with each thrust. “I’m yours, oh my god, never let me go.” You buried your face in his neck, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin as he ground against you, locked together so tightly he could barely pull back before you were bringing him closer again.

“Never, I’ll never let you go, you’re mine now. All mine,” he panted, the feel of your lips and teeth a blissful pain, “and I’m yours, all yours.” The flames roared, their reflection catching in the glass of the lamps artfully dotted around the room, painting the walls in jewelled colours, emerald, sapphire and ruby red.

He sat back, pulling you into his lap so he could kiss your chest and hold you closer. You moved together, riding towards your release as if you were charging into battle, never close enough, never fast enough, chasing your pleasure while Loki looked at you in awe.

With a final roar he buried himself inside of you and the banked fire of your desire burst forth consuming you both. In the fireplace the flames licked out onto the hearth, the candles flared and blue flames encircled you both.

Loki pulled away, his eyes tracing over your face as he always did, checking that you were happy and safe and smiling giddily as he was. And then he saw the flames, swirling like ribbons in the wind.

Guiltily you tried to pull away, but he held you firm, still deep inside of you and as he caught your gaze again you felt him throb against your sensitive walls, “magnificent,” he murmured, before tipping you back against the carpet and continuing his worship.

The morning came too soon, the mist that danced between the trees faded as it got closer to the cabin windows and you let out a puff of hot air against the pane. You set your cup of coffee on the side and drew a heart in the condensation, smiling as it turned green and gold as the rising sun beyond touched the tops of the pine trees in the valley.

On silent feet, Loki crept up on you, circling his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder where your shirt slipped away from your collar. Here he planted a wet kiss, squeezing you tighter when you giggled from the sensation. Between you both, you wondered if you’d ever have need to go clothes shopping again. With a flick of his wrist Loki had sent his suit into oblivion and had manifested a surprisingly sensible pair of dark jeans and a sweater. To his own surprise, try as he might, he couldn’t make it green and instead the fibres continued to insist on a rich, dark blue colour instead.

“Loki,” you chided, but you didn’t push him away, your body sought him at all times, reaching for his touch, so you allowed him to set his feet between yours and settled his hands on your hips.

“Darling, we should talk about what happened, now that we’ve had time to rest.”

Loki led you both out to a small covered porch at the back of the cabin, it’d been too dark to see your surroundings when you arrived but now you could see over through the trees to an open vista. A lake took up the majority of the valley, tailing away into a rushing river at its furthest point. Both sides of the valley were covered in dense trees, golden brown patches in the late autumn and dark green pines knitting together the amber canopy, the mist still rose from them while you settled into an old swing chair. The view was incredible, stealing your breath and your words as Loki settled beside you.

“It reminded me of Norway,” he said, casually, “and so I had to have it. Especially as things became so -” he waves his hand, “messy, in Asgard.”

“It’s beautiful, I could stay here forever.”

“As could I, darling, but we must address what happened. This isn’t the first time you’ve been attacked and I grow concerned it could happen again.” Loki was rarely so serious, even in the early days of your training he had been playful and coy, teasing your abilities from you.

You sat in silence, sipping your coffees while you thought of how to proceed.

“So, I suppose we start with the obvious, we know one of the players in this game now,” Loki said, decisively. “Lugh, it is not a pantheon I know well, though my father was always respectful and my mother knew various members. Though it is possible when my memories were taken, I forgot about other gods as well.”

“I suppose... I don’t know why he’d pretend to care now when he had me happily locked away like some fairytale princess.” You huffed.

“He mentioned your mother? That they were friends? With your mother gone, we could assume he is trying to act on her behalf, protect you as she would.I know my father often behaved in such a manner, keeping secrets when he ought to have told the truth, and then calling it protection, kindness.”

“Do you think - do you think he was the one who kept me locked up as well? Despite it all he didn’t seem like he wanted to be violent, I can’t understand how anyone working for him would be violent when he could have killed us both there and then. And then there’s the boy.”

Loki looked at you, his head tipped to the side. “The boy?” You had mentioned the boy earlier as well, but he had thought you were simply delirious.

“When he touched me, Lugh, I saw a memory of us together. My mother and I were at his house, he was kind and gentle. He encouraged me to go outside and play with a boy, it seemed like I was - happy?” You stared into the trees, hoping some clarity would emerge inside you to stop the churning feeling in your stomach.

“I learnt a lot from my father and one of the most important lessons he ever gave me, well, I don’t believe he intended to teach this as a lesson. But I learnt to never trust his mood. One minute he would love me and call me son, the next he would send me away for decades at a time. I would counsel against trusting Lugh, if he’s lived as long as Odin, the time has eaten away at what’s left of his sanity and I don’t doubt he would be kind to you in one moment and lock you up in the next.” Loki shrugged, melancholy at the memory of Odin, and then took a long drink from his mug.

You looked over to see a sad smile tugging at his lips, as if making fun of Odin was easier than the honesty of his statement.

“Perhaps - but, I recognised his eyes, the boy. I saw him again, he came for me. After I got away from those Asgardian’s, he tried to get me to go with him and I refused. He told me to stop using my magic, just as Lugh did, and then I was taken again by - hmmm.”

“If he warned you against the magic and then you were taken again, perhaps it was not Lugh who kidnapped you.” Loki raised his eyebrows and you nodded, silent and contemplative, already wondering the same. “Perhaps he really was trying to protect you?” Loki still hadn’t told you about the sigil he’d seen, about how he knew who your last captors were. How would he explain to you that your betrothed was out to find you? He had no memory of that war between the Aesir and the Vanir, how could he spoil what was growing between you with a fear like that.

“Perhaps. I just wish there was something in my past I could trust and believe in.”

He felt sick lying to you, even if it was by omission.. Loki had promised himself that he would protect you and he would, for now you needed comfort and peace more than you needed the truth.

You lapsed into silence, finishing your coffee and setting it onto the wooden porch floor. The quiet washed over you, the sound of the water and the rustling trees, even the calls of the birds felt perfectly placed to put you at ease.

After a while, Loki spoke again, quiet and low with that same serious voice that was so unfamiliar. “I still loved him, Odin, though he kept many things from me. Just because things are confusing now, doesn’t mean your happier times are forgotten. You used to speak of your Grandfather and now - well - there has been no mention of him for some time. You are allowed to miss him, and your life before this. It is no slight against me for you to have enjoyed happier times with others. I only wish for you to be happy again now.”

Emotion welled within you, “I do still think of him. I miss him so much, even if - I know, I know he wasn’t real. But he was real for me. He was kind.” You stuttered, reaching out for Loki’s hand to ground you.

“I’m glad.” Loki squeezed back, tangling your fingers together and he held you as you cried “ I think we should consider going back to Tønsberg , to show Brunnhilde what you saw. Perhaps she has some more answers, now that there has been time to think.”

“I thought we were supposed to rendevouz with the team again?” You sniffed, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “won’t they be looking for us when we didn’t meet to swap cars?”

“Well that’s what we were supposed to do, but they’ve got their item now, I thought we could enjoy some time together here and then, when you’re ready, I shall take you home.” Loki put his arm over your shoulders and held you against his side, the deep scent of amber still lingered on him, mixed with the crisp, clean, scent of pine. You tucked your feet up onto the seat, leaning your weight into his warm, strong body and allowed yourself a moment of peace to think of it, a home for you and Loki.

You hadn’t felt as safe and secure since you first left your flat, any time the God was in your presence you felt at peace, content with the world and your place in it. Loki was right, you needed some time together, and practising your fire skills was exactly the kind of cosy activity the glowing hillside and crisp air required.

You whiled away a few more hours, snuggled together in the early winter air, Loki created a small green fire that glowed in front of you while you practised sending blue sparks dancing around the edge.

Inside the cabin the fire smouldered, warm and inviting. Wood stacked by the fireplace shuddered and a single log rolled off onto the floor surrounded in white light.

Distracted outside neither you nor Loki watched the divine woodwork taking place inside as the log slowly became smaller and smaller, leaving chips of wood in it’s wake. Finally, after an hour of craftsmanship, the light faded and left behind a small wooden box. It grew hot, as it sat before the fire and opened, revealing a misty mirror inside, and a swatch of delicate lace wrapped around a glass sphere.

The lace unravelled, allowing the marble to roll away from its container, bumping against the back of the sofa and coming to a stop before the fire, heating up and then cracking, releasing the secret inside.

A soft voice escaped, “I saw a vision of a flock divided, a tup of pure chaos and a ewe of love, a ram standing watch, a singular lamb frolicking, a lamb with a fiery fleece. It has burnt the farm. But from the ashes rises lush land, strong crops and healthy babes. I have told this vision to my husband, and Lugh, he does not believe me when I say she is no threat, he believes this to be a prophecy of Ragnarok, he cannot see the verdant land beyond the fire. You must hide the girl, my friend, I can protect her no longer.”

Frigga’s voice, lost to the mortality that even the seemingly infinite possess, faded into the quiet of the cabin.

And outside your chatter continued obliviously, happy and full of love.

<< Part 12

Part 14>>

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New

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jackdaw-and-hattrick · 1 year

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No one knows who exactly thought Ember giving Danny singing lessons was a good idea. Danny, for his part, only agreed because Ember promised to give up doing “impromptu concerts” during school hours for the duration of the lessons. The main problem was his voice. Turns out, when you combine Danny’s ghostly wail with Ember’s spells you’re left will, well, a mess. The closest comparison anyone can think of is if a Banshee got caught singing in the shower and decided to curse the dumbass who couldn't knock, except that dumbass is everyone within earshot. Effects included but were not limited to;

- visions of nightmare realms

-experiencing the exact moment of your death and then immediately forgetting it

- minor prophecies

-extreme pain resulting from ripping and tearing at the face.

-localized atrocities

- tears in the fabric of assumed reality

- good old-fashioned bad luck

After this, Danny was forced to sign a form stating he will never again sing within the bounds of Amnity Park, and everyone collectively decided to forget about the whole thing. There are, after all, some things best left undone, and if not undone, unremembered will do in a pinch.

#danny phantom #Remember Ember #the situation was made worse by the fact that he was pretending to be human at the time #if you remember how Gravity Falls ended it was pretty much that #Sam thought it was a bop #Danny’s working on singing with his human voice but he's having a hard time keeping a teacher #he's thinking of taking up violin

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beth-fiction · 1 year

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Update 17/Apr

Chapter 6 is here!

In this chapter, you can:

Get accused of murder.

Attend some more boring council meetings.

Delve into the past … again?

Grow your power and influence!

More scenes with the Speaker, your Blade and Ylva.

A minor tweak in chapter 5:

You can spare Ylva without breaking the deal with Ateus

Demo

Master Post:

#a prophecy undone #interactive fiction #if wip #choicescript #hosted games #choice of games #hosted games wip #wip update #update

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dat-town · 3 months

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curse me out

never seen circus masterpost

Characters: cursed prince!Sunghoon & female reader

Setting & genre: magical realism au, fantasy au, reincarnation au

Summary: Many came to you over the years to get rid of their curses but nobody like Sunghoon.

Warnings: general creepiness of an eerie circus, ambiguous ending, blood, injury, implied past death, is a spoiler or a warning if i say it was inspired by enhypen concepts?

Words: 2k

i guess i will tag you in all of these @restlessmaknae

Some curses were better off untouched.

It was one of the first things you learned, just like prophecies were always up to interpretations and Ouija boards were banned for a reason. The other side was not to play with.

But you had an eye for curses. You looked at them like they were complex riddles waiting for you to solve them. Every curse had a little back door, a tiny loophole and that was where you came in: for the right amount of money, you helped people find that hidden exit, you helped them get rid of whatever made them struggle. Be it a curse for terrible luck, no love or some sort of disfigurement. Some curses could only be undone by the shaman or witch who put them in place but you had many connections and you knew how to strike a deal. You got yourself your name when you joined the circus, you were called the cursebreaker as if it was something unique when in reality you were just a witch with a keen interest. One of your kind in the always on the move circus.

Some people didn’t even know they were cursed, they blamed things beyond their control on such silly things as fate or beat themselves up for not being able to change when there was nothing humans like them could have done. With those cases, it was you who seeked them out, drawn to their curse like a moth to flame. But sometimes people found you. They heard rumours about the disappearing circus and the cursebreaker inside. They were always desperate ones with dark curses.

But no darker than the boy’s who walked into your tent that day.

The bell chime made you look up from where you sat, meditating, and you felt air being sucked out of your lungs.

Oh, for hell’s sake, he was beautiful.

The boy was tall and wide shouldered. He had raven black hair contrasting against his clear, pale skin. His eyes were just as dark as his locks, highlighted by his all black outfit, his long coat swirling behind him from the outside wind blowing. Despite his youthful features, he held himself with ageless elegance like a prince. It gave his soft features sharpness and coldness to his demeanour.

You blinked when he took another step closer and his curse was suddenly all too clear in front of you. Most people’s curses clung to them like leeches but not his. His was pulsing, like a black heart, like it was keeping him alive. Like there was no him without the curse.

“I can’t help you,” you told him straight away, without any polite greeting. You shot up from your place, meditation long forgotten. You weren’t afraid of him but you didn’t want to experience his rage either when he found out why you refused to help him.

“What makes you think I came for your help?” Your guest raised an eyebrow challengingly while watching you equally intrigued but it only made you confused. Why else could he have come to your tent?

“Did you come to kill me then?” You asked, unwilling to show fear.

“No,” he flashed you a smile, his thin, rose coloured mouth tilted upwards in a lazy slope. It should have been dangerous yet it somehow made your heart flutter. “I heard you can see how curses unfolded, their maker.”

“You want to know who made you like this.”

It wasn’t a question, it made sense.

“I have waited for a long time to meet somebody like you,” the beautiful boy sighed, resigned, sounding much more tired than somebody who looked his age. But looks weren’t everything, you knew that. “So tell me, were the rumours about you true or not?”

“Take a seat,” you pointed at a pillow on the ground as it was as good of an answer as any, then you followed in suit, sitting across from him after lighting some scented candles while he was looking around curiously.

From up close, he was even more beautiful, perfect porcelain skin and those enticing eyes but you knew better than to fall into his trap. It didn’t mean you were immune, not when he smelled like sandalwood and leather and something rich and sweet.

“Give me your hands,” you told him, extending your own hands, palms up, towards him. He did as you asked, his cold skin grazing yours sending a shiver down your spine. You closed your eyes and focused on the pulsating darkness around him.

“You are very old,” you blurted out at the first image slipping into your mind about castles and a different era. You could hear the not-so-boy laugh.

“Huh, I don’t hear that everyday. Didn’t you know that’s a rude thing to say?” He teased and you felt yourself blush. At least, with your eyes closed you didn’t see his expression when he noticed.

“You are a prince,” you whispered as you saw him wearing a crown, sitting on a throne, people bowing to him.

“I was,” he confirmed quietly.

Prince Sunghoon. He’d had a lavish life but he had lived in a turbulent era. His position and power had been threatened by not only neighbouring kingdoms but power hungry men of his own too.

And there had been a girl too. Not a princess but a commoner, a shaman’s daughter. You saw the two of them met in an alcove, her hiding him from traitor knights, her tending his open wounds. The curse felt familiar with her. You felt familiar with her.

Your eyes snapped open and even though your guest couldn’t know what exactly you saw, he looked at you knowingly. As if he expected this.

“I lied before,” he admitted slowly as if he was weighing his options, like he was afraid of your reaction. “Actually I waited for a long time to meet you.”

You gulped and pulled back your hands, briefly wondering whether you had enough time to retrieve a weapon even though the immortal being claimed that he didn’t want to kill you.

“Even if my ancestor did something to you, it has nothing to do with me,” you said, defensive, not sure what on earth this cursed prince wanted after centuries had passed.

“That depends,” he mused. “What exactly did she do?”

You remembered the blood from the vision. The black magic. The girl’s sacrifice. You felt justified to take her side, to displace the prince’s baseless anger. Surely he couldn’t have wanted to die instead of the life he had gotten.

“She saved your life. She died for you.”

Sunghoon’s pretty mouth twitched.

“My life was worth nothing without her,” he said, melancholic, and that was when you realised what he meant. He had loved her. He didn’t want to know what had happened because he was hungry for revenge but because he wanted to know whether his feelings had been reciprocated. After all these years though? You were surprised that he was so adamant.

“Make sure to remember it in this life,” the immortal prince told you but his words only left you confused once again. Why should you have remembered that?

“I… what?”

“You told me there would be other lives, chipmunk,” he smiled and his voice softened like expensive silk.

You were fairly sure that nobody had ever called you that and yet, the pet name brought up memories you didn’t even know you had buried inside you.

“Did you come to punish me, Your Highness?” You didn’t even bother looking up from your work table full of herbs, your mouth set in a small smile.

“Do I look like a tyrant, chipmunk?” The prince put a hand over his heart, feigning being scandalised. “Though maybe I should as you stole something very valuable from the kingdom.”

“Did I now?” You looked at him, amused, knowing very well that he would have never hurt you.

“Yes, my heart,” Sunghoon smiled as he whipped a single rose out of nowhere, holding it out for you.

It became a common affair: meeting the prince in secret but eventually it was bound to be found out.

“Father,” you yelped in surprise when you came face to face with your elder after saying goodbye to the boy who ruled your country. Your father looked at you with grave concern, so you were sure he knew.

“It won’t end well,” he warned and you didn’t need to ask to know what he meant.

Maybe you should have given his words more consideration. He was a shaman after all. But you were too taken by the boy with the most adorable moles you had ever seen to care about warning signs.

“Your Highness,” you gasped in horror when you saw Sunghoon at your threshold covered in blood.

“I… didn’t know where else to go,” the prince coughed up as he leaned his weight against you once you opened the gate wider and let him inside. It was scandalising to do such a thing so late at night but you didn’t care about neighbour gossip, not when Sunghoon was dying on you.

“What happened?”

“It was a trap. An ambush,” he forced out between gritted teeth, his beautiful face pained and you wondered how much of it was physical and how much due to the facts that he couldn’t trust in his allies anymore. He had doubted their loyalty before but the fact that he came to you instead the royal physician told a lot.

You laid him down, his skin already feverish and sweaty, blood dripping down on his pale neck. He was the heir to the throne and yet, he looked so fragile like that. You were familiar with your father’s shaman practices enough to know what he needed to be saved and you knew what the cost was but no price was too high to save him. So you gave him your life and many others. You gave him eternity.

“Sunghoon.”

His name rolled off your dry lips like a plea and familiar despite not even remembering a few moments ago. You stared at him in disbelief, your past self trying to keep herself atop of your conscious memories.

“We never stood a chance,” you told him because even if you had stayed alive, your love had been impossible. A prince and the shaman’s daughter? You had believed you had done him a favour.

“Like star crossed lovers, I know,” Sunghoon nodded and reached out, his pretty pianist fingers grazing against your arm, making you shiver once again, this time more pleasantly. “But what about now?”

“Now… I will die of old age one day and you won’t. Your curse can only be undone by death itself,” you told him, trying to keep level headed no matter how hard it was to think near him. Was immortality really a curse? It was, if you had to see your loved ones dying.

“Then let it take me too with you. I have lived long enough. I don’t want any more countless lives, I only want this life, with you,” he said and it was the closest thing to an I love you you have ever heard.

How could you have said no to that? Your job was to break curses after all even if his was your own making. Even if it cost both of your lives. Because you understood it, a simple life was better with him than forever without him.

“I guess, we have a lot to make up for before that, Your Highness,” you smiled and slid your fingers between his, something you would have never dared before in the positions you had been.

“I guess, we have,” Sunghoon smiled too as he brought your hand to his mouth and hinted a kiss over your knuckles, making you blush deeply, blood roses blooming on your cheeks.

Some curses were better off untouched.

And some curses took centuries to come full circle.

#series: never seen circus #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #stories #guess who managed to write this without mentioning vampires once

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myevilmouse · 7 months

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"I see your defeat, like many arms surrounding you in a cold embrace."

The creature's prophecy hadn’t kept him awake, but now, as steely appendages wound tightly, the behemoth testing the durability of his ribcage, breath leaving his lungs, now Grand Admiral Thrawn remembered it, cursed it, and wondered what clues he’d missed, what strategies he’d overlooked in his confidence --his hubris-- that could have undone whatever Bridger was doing now.

This mysterious Force... was it really this unpredictable? Or was his imminent death and failure of his mission due to his inability to not just see, but to believe?

#grand admiral thrawn #getting his comeuppance #angstober 2023 #thrawn #star wars rebels #drabble #100 words #drabbles #evilmousetober23

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averageanonymous · 5 months

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Summary: After stopping Armageddon, Aziraphale and Crowley come up with a plan to avoid their mutual destruction by Heaven and Hell. (i.e. the bus ride from Tadfield to Crowley's flat)

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Aziraphale took Crowley up on his offer of a place to stay the night after Armageddon. After all, with the bookshop burned to ashes (he tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted in knots at the thought of his entire literary collection up in flames) his only other alternative would be to find a hotel. He'd never cared for hotels. And the demon was right. What did Heaven care where he slept? They were surely much more concerned with the fact that he'd overturned Armageddon and derailed their war.

As they took their seats on the bus, he turned that thought over and over, like one might a particularly interesting shell found on a beach. Gabriel had been quite upset. In fact, upset was certainly an understatement. He and Crowley had undone a war literally thousands of years in the making. It was no small infraction. There would be repercussions. He was very sure of it. And not just for him. He looked over at the demon at his side. Crowley was slouched low in his seat, head reclined. It was difficult to tell with the glasses, but he seemed so relaxed Aziraphale wondered if he'd fallen asleep.

“Crowley,” he said gently.

The demon immediately lifted his head, “What now?”

“What…? What do you mean, what now?”

Crowley sat up a bit, throwing his arm over the back of Aziraphale’s seat and turning his whole body to face him. “Your voice is doing that thing,” Crowley said informatively, arching an eyebrow.

"What thing,” Aziraphale asked, barely restraining his exasperation. But despite the growing unease he felt, he also found himself a little distracted by Crowley's arm. It was practically over his shoulders.

“You know, the I'm overthinking something, and it's got me all worked up thing,” Crowley grinned like, well, like a snake.

“Oh, honestly, my voice does not do a thing, you're being ridiculous,” Aziraphale scoffed, albeit somewhat self-consciously.

“Alright, then,” Crowley shrugged, settling back into his seat, “What's up?”

“I was just thinking about Heaven, Hell, Agnes’ final prophesy… All of it. I don't know what they'll do, but they're not going to just let us go. We need a plan,” Aziraphale worried, drumming his fingers on his leg idly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the strip of paper he'd caught from the Nice and Accurate Prophecies. He read it over again.

“Give me another look at it,” Crowley said, holding out his hand. Aziraphale gave it to him and he read it aloud, “When alle is sayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enouff, ye will be playing with fyre. Right, well let's work it out then.”

“Well obviously it means us,” Aziraphale said anxiously, “It's not a coincidence that I found that.”

“Fire… You don't think she means literal fire? Hellfire?” Crowley looked up in alarm, “You think they'd try to, what, finish you off? Permanently?”

“I'm afraid what I've…we've…done… It's quite unforgivable,” Aziraphale said quietly, turning his gaze out the window, but the only thing he could see in the dark glass was his own reflection.

“So what about the rest of this,” Crowley demanded, looking at the paper again, “Choose your faces wisely, what's a different face gonna do if you're roasting in Hellfire?” His relaxed demeanor had evaporated. He raked his fingers through his hair, teeth clenched.

Aziraphale glanced at Crowley again, and his heart skipped ever so slightly. “If Heaven has determined that I am to be executed, I think it likely that Hell will want their pound of flesh as well.”

“Nggggh yeah, you're probably right,” Crowley muttered, scowling.

“But what if, well, we could…” He gestured with his arms between them.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “What, switch places?”

“Shhh,” Aziraphale shushed him, glancing up, “But yes. Just until we know it's all done with. I don't imagine they'll wait long… You take my place in the fire. And when Hell comes for you with Holy Water, it'll be me who gets it.”

Crowley leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingertips steepled. “Well that'll definitely throw them. You don't think they'll see through it, though?”

“I think they'll make far worse assumptions than a face swap,” Aziraphale speculated, “But when it's done with, they might just…leave us alone. For awhile, at least.”

Crowley thought for a moment, then leaned back in his seat. He held out his hand. Aziraphale looked between the offered hand and Crowley's face. He could just see the demon's vibrant yellow eyes through the dark lenses. His gaze was steady. Aziraphale took a breath and rested his hand atop Crowley's. The moment their skin touched, a warmth suffused him. He told himself to just breathe, and closed his eyes to focus on pulling the celestial energy he needed for the swap. Then Crowley's fingers laced through his, their palms pressing together, and Aziraphale found it a challenge to think of anything else.

Focus, he reprimanded himself sternly.

“All clear, no one watching,” Crowley murmured. The warmth coursing through Aziraphale burned brighter. He opened his eyes and looked down at their joined hands. Only his hand was now lean and long-fingered, his coat black. He looked at Crowley, and it was his own face he saw, gaze unfocused with concentration. He glanced into the window. Crowley's reflection stared back. The swap had worked.

Crowley took a deep breath beside him, relaxing into his usual slouched posture. He didn't release Aziraphale’s hand. Aziraphale tried not to read into it.

“Honestly, Crowley, it's not enough to look the part,” Aziraphale heard Crowley's voice say from his own mouth. It was going to take some getting used to. “I would never sit like that.”

“Me?” Crowley, in Aziraphale's voice, scoffed, raising an eyebrow at him, “What about you? Would I ever sit like that, or talk like that?”

“Oh, alright,” Aziraphale huffed, “We both have some work to do.”

“Well good thing you're coming to my place then. Plenty of time to practice,” Crowley said as he made a show of sitting up very straight and proper. He let go of Aziraphale’s hand so that he could fold his hands primly in his lap, and Aziraphale tried not to mind the sudden absence.

“Well, how's this, then, my good fellow? Tip top? All tickety-boo?” Crowley's imitation of his diction was exaggerated to an almost comedic level. Aziraphale might have taken it as mockery, but for the smile that Crowley gave him. It was genuine, his eyes betraying a softness that Aziraphale rarely ever saw, his eyes almost always hidden behind his glasses.

Aziraphale grinned back and then slouched dramatically into his seat, his legs splaying in every direction, knee colliding with Crowley's, as though his bones had melted.

“Oh, come on, that's too much,” Crowley complained, “You look like a deflated balloon.”

They both laughed as Aziraphale sat up, though not as straight as usual, and Crowley slouched slightly, though nowhere near his usual lounge.

The bus finally pulled to a stop outside Crowley's flat. The angel and the demon stood up and exited the bus. As they stepped down onto the street, Crowley reassured him, “It's all going to be fine, angel.” Then he took Aziraphale’s hand and gave it a single quick squeeze. It was done before Aziraphale was even sure it had happened. Even still, he couldn't stop the smile that grew on his face. He nodded in agreement, and followed Crowley into the building. He watched his own body walking with only slightly less than Crowley's usual swagger and shook his head. They most certainly did have some work to do.

☆~☆~☆~☆~☆

Thanks for reading! Some background for this little bit of imagination below the cut, if you like!

I have a few headcanons that inspired this. First, that although we all know they held hands on the bus, there must've been a reason (or excuse) more than just 'they wanted to'. They did want to, obviously. But as far as relationship progression, it's hard to go backward. If they held hands on the bus for no other reason than they wanted to, they should still be casually holding hands in Season 2 (it's 4 years later!) Hence, doing the Face Swap. It had to happen at some point. It involves holding hands. The bus is as good a place and time as any.

My second headcanon is that they spent that night working on each other's tone, diction, gait etc. Aziraphale, especially, I think, would've wanted to make sure he had it right.

Finally, and this one isn't addressed in this ficlet, but Adam's "Reset" applied to Aziraphale and Crowley's physical locations. That morning, Aziraphale-as-Crowley woke up still in Crowley's flat, but Crowley-as-Aziraphale was magically transported to the bookshop (where "he" belongs, everything back in its proper place) and woke up there. Which is why he wouldn't have seen the Bentley yet.

Anyways. Just some fun things I've thought about in my idle moments! I love hearing other people's ideas so if you want to share, I'm all ears! Or eyes, since, you know, it's the internet.

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens season 1 #they like holding hands #good omens headcanons

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my-name-is-apollo · 5 months

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'Ello :D

I saw a few days ago that you mentioned something about complicated Cassandra & Apollo? I was wondering if you could expand on it 👀 Complicated CassandraApollo sounds interesting

I would like to direct you to this post because it summarises a lot of my feelings on them!

Besides that, I'd like to talk about the way one of my favorite scenes, Cassandra ripping apart her prophetic insignia during her final moments, is written in two different plays:

Farewell, ye garlands of that god most dear to me! farewell, ye mystic symbols! I here resign your feasts, my joy in days gone by. Go, I tear ye from my body, that, while yet mine honour is intact, I may give them to the rushing winds to waft to thee, my prince of prophecy

- Euripides', Trojan Women (trans. Edward Philip Coleridge)

and

Why then do I bear these mockeries of myself, this wand, these prophetic chaplets on my neck?

(Breaking her wand, she throws it and the other insignia of her prophetic office upon the ground, and tramples them underfoot)

You at least I will destroy before I die myself. To destruction with you! And fallen there, thus do I repay you. Enrich with doom some other in my place. Look, Apollo himself is stripping me of my prophetic garb — he that saw me mocked to bitter scorn, even in this bravery, by friends turned foes, with one accord, in vain — but, like some vagrant mountebank, called "beggar," "wretch," "starveling," I bore it all. And now the prophet, having undone me, his prophetess, has brought me to this lethal pass.

- Aeschylus, Agamemnon (trans. by Herbert Weir Smyth)

You can see the difference in how Cassandra feels towards Apollo. In the Trojan woman, there's still some fondness she directs towards her god. She calls him the god who is the dearest to her. She wants to take off the symbols of Apollo she dons on her body and give it back to Apollo while her honor is yet intact. It's a way for her to not let her god get dishonored in that helpless situation.

Where as in the Agamemnon, Cassandra sounds more bitter, there's no hint of fondness here. She tears away her prophetic symbols and tramples them because she wants to destroy them. She also blames her act of destroying them on Apollo. Apollo is the ultimate destroyer for her and his symbols are bringers of doom, as she says elsewhere in the play:

CASSANDRA: Apollo, Apollo! God of the Ways, my destroyer! For you have destroyed me — and utterly — this second time.

- Aeschylus, Agamemnon (trans. by Herbert Weir Smyth)

While the two plays portray Cassandra with feelings that are to some extent contrasting (but both founded on desperation), when I think about Cassandra I think like she can feel all those emotions - fondness, bitterness, scorn - almost simultaneously. Because this is her god whom she worships and has dedicated her life for. She has felt his wrath and she has also felt his divine inspiration. She scorned his advances in the past but she still gives him her body to possess his spirit. She couldn't save Troy, she couldn't save herself. But the very last vision Apollo shows her is that of her death being avenged, and that seemed like a miniscule relief for her in the last moments of her life.

Apollo also seems to takes it upon himself to orchestrate that revenge. He could have had other reasons to do that - but to avenge Cassandra's death could also very well have been one of them. We don't really get to see what Apollo thinks of Cassandra. In versions where Cassandra breaks her promise (Aeschylus' Agamemnon and Scholiast on Lycophron's Alexandra) we can definitely assume that he is betrayed by her and is angry with her, understandably so. The scholiast on Lycophron's Alexandra says that Apollo first tried to take back the gift, but when he couldn't he placed a curse to make his gift useless. So it does show that he intended to go easy on her, but it simply wasn't an option. Things are relatively simple here. But there are versions where Cassandra gets her prophetic powers without any direct deal with Apollo, yet the outcome is the same. She rejects him and gets cursed.

Now here the question arises - if satisfying his lust was truly his only objective, why did Apollo curse her instead of just, you know, having his way with her - which wouldn't be unusual for a god? It could be that he simply didn't want (which we see in the case of Sibyl of Cumae). But sometimes I like to think it's more than just that:

Maybe he did it because he knew it would be dangerous to let Cassandra have this power. He was worried that he had blessed her too much, that she had learnt so much that she could intervene with the destiny in her attempts to save Troy. And look at how that turned out for another seer Laocoon - not cursed by Apollo but killed by Athena for warning the Trojans about the Trojan horse. Maybe Apollo didn't want any other god to punish Cassandra like that. She is his beloved priestess, and if at all she has to be punished and damned, he wants to do it himself.

Or maybe (and this is my favourite thought to entertain about them) this was a way for Apollo to deal with his own helplessness about Troy. Because when you think about it, Apollo is not very different than Cassandra in the sense that he is also able to foresee the destruction of Troy, his beloved city with his beloved people, but he won't be able to save them. He is not cursed, he doesn't let out frenzied cries like Cassandra, but he is obliged to abide by the Fates, and has learnt to suffer with his emotions silently. Maybe he desired for someone to join him in this madness. It would torment them but at least he wouldn't feel alone. And he chose Cassandra because she was probably the most beloved to him, and familiar with her virtue, he probably knew she would give him a reason to curse her by rejecting him. He also probably knew that in spite of how unfair he would be towards her, she would still love him and stay devoted to him.

I know my thoughts are probably very unpopular, but I like to think that the bond between them was unbreakable, but definitely very strained. I don't know if co-dependent would be the right word to use for a deity and his doomed priestess (probably not), but I hope you get the idea.

#Apollo #Cassandra #firealder2005 #thank you for the ask #I do love talking about them #and sorry it took this long because I really had to brainstorm a bit #on how to answer this in a way expresses all my thoughts but also stay coherent #lol #but trust me I very much enjoyed thinking about them

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