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seoafin · 8 months

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happy kinktober (2.4k)

stsg x fem!reader

MDNI; threesome, mfm, pronebone, overstimulation, toys, mating press, marathon sex, c-curseplay............stsg get off to being married (they refer to themselves as your husbands), breeding kink, restraining, stsg absolute menaces warning

18+ only

You cum again for the fourth time in the last hour with a long, muffled cry. Satoru greedily takes in the sight of your legs trembling as you drip onto the sheets, the folds of your cunt pulsing the long vibrating silicone embedded deep into you. He can see the walls of your pussy tighten in an attempt to push out the intrusion, to relieve the overstimulation, but it fails.

Suguru doesn't even look at you, seemingly engrossed in the book in his lap, but Satoru can tell Suguru's patience is waning. His eyes trace the line of words down the page at a speed slow enough to tell Satoru that his interests lie outside of the book.

Mainly, in your spread body, forced open by a curse of Suguru's as the toy he placed in you an hour prior overwhelms you to the brink.

Satoru watches the black tendrils gyrate around the length of your thighs, completely exposing you to them. Suguru had placed you in a particularly humiliating position, ass raised to the air, face planted in the sheets, arms and hands bound by a black rope like entity Suguru had chanced upon during a mission a couple of years ago. Satoru can almost feel the tightness around his own wrists, the memory of it binding his own legs, and he grows even harder, cock straining against his pants.

It's perverted, it's perverse, watching the curse curl around your naked, glistening body, caressing you like a lover while you cry out for them. It's all Suguru in the end. The curses are a part of him, in a way that Satoru doesn’t blink at.

It’s different when someone else touches you, with an ease that signifies a lack of understanding for their position. You are not someone who can be casually touched anymore. Not by any man that isn’t them.

You breathe out a sob. You've given up trying to upright yourself with your latest orgasm, and the tentacles dig into your flesh as you let yourself fall limp, your exhaustion evident. You've made a mess of the sheets, and all Satoru can think about is having you make an even bigger one.

Suguru closes his book.

Satoru grins. Without another word he shrugs off his shirt, and unbelts his pants.

When Suguru sits on the bed next to you, he easily pulls out the toy from you, glinting and wet with your juices, and you exhale shakily, relieved. The curse shrinks away at its master’s presence until it's only wrapped around your wrists, trapped behind your back. Suguru turns you around, and the two of them gaze at your weary body, your tear stained face, for a little longer.

“Have Satoru and I been neglecting you?” Suguru asks lightly, knuckles brushing the wetness from your cheek. His voice takes on a consolingly sweet murmur, “We’ve been busy lately, haven’t we.”

A repeat cycle of missions and meetings and days, seeing Suguru’s face in passing, and yours not at all. You’ve been holing yourself in your apartment for the last couple of days coaxing that hellcat of yours out of its place underneath the couch. As if sensing the approaching move, it had refused to come out, distressing you greatly. But Satoru is a new man, with patience and generosity to spare. He’ll endure that horrible ugly cat of yours (which looks nothing like him) that you refuse to be without, the monotony of missions and meetings, the constant squawking of the higher ups, if only to come home to you and Suguru at the end of the day.

And the rings of your fingers.

He’s a married man now, after all.

Everything changes when a man gets married, he thinks, looking at you. For better or worse, you’ve given yourself to them, unaware that they’ve also given themselves to you.

You blink, staring up at them with confusion marring your face. “N-no…?”

Suguru smiles. You balk, as if finally understanding where this conversation is heading. Satoru has to give you some points though, it’s taken quicker than it once would’ve for you to understand.

“That’s a shame,” Suguru breathes, “Satoru and I missed you,” he trails a finger down the valley of your breasts, and you shudder, squeezing your eyes tight as your nipples perk in response. Satoru can imagine your wrists straining against the confines of your binds.

“Aren’t you lucky,” Satoru crows, with a wide grin, enjoying the wide eyed panic settling on your face. “Having not one, but two husbands that miss you so diligently.”

“I missed you two too!” You blurt out, embarrassment alight on your face, more for the predicament you seem to be in than the words itself. Satoru could listen to you say you missed him over and over, if only you’d indulge him. It seems to him these are the only moments you’re most truthful to yourself. You never understand, not fully. You’ve always rationalized their love in ways it doesn’t make sense, especially when it’s never been rational in the first place.

Satoru’s never been a picky man when it comes to you. He’ll take your increasingly distressed declarations of love over nothing. He knows they’re genuine at heart.

Maybe it’s all a last ditch attempt to placate them, to ask for forgiveness, but there’s only one way to placate the both of them, and it won’t be with words.

He moves closer to you, slotting himself between your legs as his hands spread you open once more. You make a small noise when you feel the hardness of him pressed to your slick sex.

“You’ll make Satoru jealous,” Suguru says, eyes glinting, as Satoru lines his cock up at your glistening entrance, “if you don’t give him as many orgasms as you gave that toy.”

“Double the amount,” he agrees with a heated look. Until you’re not thinking of anything but them. The way his cock splits you open and touches you in places only he can reach. He’ll make you feel so good you never entertain the attention of another man ever again. And then maybe he’ll grant you some reprieve. He can’t promise the same of Suguru though.

After Suguru, you might be a little too messed up to function properly for the next couple of days, but Satoru can think of nothing better than the two of them having you to themselves until reason inevitably grabs hold of you.

You try to squirm away, but to Satoru’s delight, black tendrils snake back around your thighs and hold you open. Suguru smiles innocently.

“I’m…” you hiccup, squeezing your eyes shut, “sorry…”

“I know,” Suguru says, settling into the bed, and freeing his cock from his pants. Satoru watches his hand firmly grip the base of his leaking cock, and wonders if Suguru’ll let him suck him off after he finishes his turn with you.

Suguru pushes the hair from your face, and kisses your sweaty forehead.

Your previous orgasms make it easier to slip into you, and Satoru sighs when the familiar wet heat of your pretty pussy sucks him in. Nothing in the world compares to the feeling of when he and Suguru fuck you together, in seperate holes, or one, but this comes pretty close.

“Ngh…” you moan, no doubt already sore and overextended as he pushes into you, past the lingering tightness. If Satoru didn’t know better, you’d be a virgin with how tightly your walls cling to him, but he knows he and Suguru have thoroughly divested you of that title long ago.

Satoru hums, stilling himself inside of you, letting you really feel him, despite the urge to wildly thrust. You lay almost limp before him, blinking away the wetness in your eyes. He smiles. “I guess I’ll just have to show you how much your husband missed you, yeah?”

Without another word of warning, he pulls out, and thrusts into you fully. You choke on your breath as he begins to fuck you in earnest, letting his cock drag against your folds before touching that part of you inside that he knows makes you lightheaded. His hands are wrapped around your waist, the black tendrils doing the work of keeping your hands bound, and your legs spread, forcing you down to him at the same timing of his thrusts.

You’re already on the cusp of another orgasm, sobbing, lips trembling in a way Satoru is tempted to bite. A few more thrusts and you’re shaking, squeezing around him as everything gets even wetter. It takes everything not to bury himself to the hilt, brush against your cervix, and come inside of you.

His gaze drops to your cunt, to where the two of you are connected, and his blood runs hotter. Suguru is watching, pumping his wet length, chest starting to heave as he approaches what Satoru knows won’t be his final orgasm of the night. He’ll be inside you before long, painting your insides white, their seeds mixing into a mess inside you.

The three of you, together, always together. It gives him a high akin to violence, to know you’re indisputably theirs in a way nobody can say anything about anymore, even you. You gave that right away when you said yes.

The room is obscenely loud as he fucks into you, wet squelches and the slap of skin against skin. Your legs have gone limp, held up only by Suguru’s curse, and your breathing goes funny in a way that makes him even harder.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he grunts, sinking himself into the hilt once more, “neglecting your husbands.” He hasn’t even played with your clit yet, hasn’t really made you sorry like he knows he could, but you’re already approaching your next orgasm, and even he isn’t strong enough to let you come by yourself. “Don’t worry,” Satoru says breathily, “We’ll take our time with you tonight. Make up for lost time. You’ll indulge your husbands, huh?”

You don’t get a chance to answer, or even register his question.

His hips slam into yours with reckless abandon, fingers marking indents into your hips. Satoru watches your face twist, watches as you try to fight off your impending orgasm, watches the shameless pleasure on Suguru’s face when you start to become incoherent underneath him. He feels the vice tight squeeze of your cunt, and presses your raised thighs until they’re nearly level with your chest. With one final thrust, he comes inside of you, feels your pussy pulse with his release. Your feet on either side of his head twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

You’re a pretty sight, nearly bent in half, half sobs escaping your mouth, his hands on both sides of your head, as he keeps your hips flush together. Every small movement sends the legs resting on his shoulder into overdrive. He meets Suguru’s gaze, trails his eyes down the flexing muscles of Suguru’s abdomen, to the painfully erect need between his open thighs.

Satoru snorts. Sometimes he can’t decide on whether or not Suguru is a masochist or a sadist. If he’s indulgent to the point of excess, then Suguru is restrained to the point of delayed gratification.

You shiver when Satoru slips out of you, your leaking cunt a sticky mess. You look blankly serene, gazing up at the ceiling. Not a single thought in that head of yours, just the way he likes it. He and Suguru have always been of the opinion that you think too much. If he can give you quiet, then he’ll consider it one of his husbandly duties.

He almost feels bad for you when Suguru claims his seat, after giving him a long kiss. Satoru can’t help but reach and give Suguru’s cock a hard squeeze, relishing the harsh grunt that leaves his throat, and the warning nip of Suguru’s teeth against his neck.

You blink, as if regaining some semblance of cognizance, when Suguru’s hardness taps against your stomach, smearing it wet with precum.

You blink when Suguru brushes your face with his knuckles, takes your hand, adorned with the ring they had given you, entwines your fingers, and smiles.

Satoru watches as Suguru fucks you in a new position. It looks like punishment, and it must feel like punishment too. The rough, measured thrust of his hips slaps against your nearly limp form, a foamy white ring around his cock as he unrelenting spears into you. The weight of him against your back pushes your body deeper into the bed. Rivulets of come slide down the curve of your ass, dripping onto the sheets.

You’ve long given up on trying to fight. Suguru had unbound your hands in what seemed as if it might be temporary forgiveness. But then you had tried to run away. Suguru can be capricious too, because after sighing earlier that he could be tempted into forgiveness with a few more direct ‘I love you’s’, he had decided then and there that you needed to be thoroughly chastened. Your wrists hadn’t left your back since.

Suguru’s fingers are wrapped around your throat, with just enough effort to keep your head upright as he murmurs into your ear.

When Satoru sticks two fingers in your mouth, and presses against your tongue, your jaw easily falls slack, drool pooling down his wrist. Your eyes are glazed over, any indication of consciousness in the slight shift of your breathing.

This might be the most fucked out Satoru has ever seen you. And he’s seen you in multiple, varying states of dissociation following sex. He feels his dick twitch in interest, a rush of blood following. A challenge it’d be, to bring you back to a world of awareness. To have you calling his name after you had been nearly unresponsive just minutes prior.

Suguru comes with an exhale, and you with a whimper as tears rush to the surface of your eyes, animating you back to life once more. Suguru spends the next few minutes rutting his hips into you, fucking their cum back into you with a vigor that tells Satoru that he’s thinking about children.

The two of them have come inside of you so many times that Satoru thinks there isn’t a possibility of you not being pregnant. They’ve made a game of it, whose seed will be the first to take. You leak when Suguru leaves you. The curse enveloping your wrists dissolves into air. Suguru takes your wrists with his hands, and gently rubs his finger over them.

The two of them look with unabashed interest when Satoru pushes down on the slight distension of your lower stomach, and you leak even more, a mixture of your slick and their come onto the sheets. You blearily watch, unable to do much more.

Satoru’s eye catches on the glint of the pretty rock on your finger as he pets your hair. You’re theirs now. Formally and forever.

Well, he thinks. They have all the time in the world.

#CURSEPLAY ISN'T AS BAD AS IT SOUNDS OKAY #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #not sfw #m.jjk

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atlasofthestaars · 5 months

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[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .015

first part | previous part | next part

NOTE:

Yet again we’re hoping for less than three weeks update time. We’ll see how it goes now haha ^^

edit: I lost track of time. I keep on forgetting when I last updated.

Rain got in as a love interest, which does alter the story a bit!

Reminder that I like to do canon divergence <3

Would you guys like a collection of headcanons I’ve done for requests on AO3?? I usually don’t post them there because they’re pretty short but I can put them all into one book that I’ll update.

Also happy 100k+ words! I'm. I'm not ready to figure out how many words this will all be by the end.

FROM THE EYES OF SOMEONE WHO ENJOYS A MOMENT OF PEACE

“Things are getting rough.”

You stood upon the roof of a building, staring down at the destruction of the city around you. Outworlders mobbed the streets, terrorizing the innocent Earthrealmers. To describe it as “rough” was an understatement. It’s been two long years ever since the first invasions on Earthrealm started. It’s been nearly a year since you’ve moved out to the city along with the others to fend off where it was the worst.

Most of Earthrealm’s forces were sent here, along with Raiden, to defend the city. But there were a few that were scattered around the world to help other regions. Fujin and your father, for example, stayed behind to help the monks defend the Wu Shi along with others of the White Lotus. You missed both of them dearly, only being able to communicate with them occasionally.

You haven’t been able to visit Kung Lao’s grave in over a year. You only hoped that he understood why.

“Are you planning on going out again?” Liu Kang’s voice spoke. His voice dripped with concern. You turned your gaze away from the apocalyptic sight to your dear friend. It was a much better view than the one below. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you. You sighed and nodded before turning your gaze down to the view below. As disturbing as it was, you felt guiltier turning a blind eye.

“I have to, I don’t think Raiden and Johnny Cage are enough to take down that extermination squad they’ve sent out.” You said, crossing your arms. A light breeze passed by, sending the smell of smoke your way. You grimaced at the acrid scent. No matter how long you’ve been here, you’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to it. Especially with how you’ve become so accustomed to the much cleaner air at the temple. “That, and Nightwolf said he would enjoy my help to help recruit the two Raiden has been getting information on.”

“New recruits?” Liu Kang inquired. You nodded gravely in response. A hint of distaste seemed to linger with his words along with some confusion. You didn’t blame him, ever since you’ve been out here, you’ve never really gone and sought out other help. Well, you’ve wanted to, but Raiden had been hesitant in dragging others into this whole affair.

As if they weren’t already. Still, you saw the logic within Raiden’s decision, even though it was flawed.

“Yes. Raiden says they have potential.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see your friend move. Was that a flinch? Or did he simply shift his weight? When you turned your gaze to check, you couldn’t tell. “I think it would be good to get more help. Our efforts are stretched out thin as it is.” You elaborate. Your hands go out to grasp at the concrete railing, gripping it tightly. You were certain by the time you let go of it, your hands would have the texture imprinted upon them.

“I still cannot believe that even after winning two tournaments and even I had nearly killed Shao Khan, it was not enough.” Liu Kang said, moving to stand closer to you. Bitterness coated his words. The distaste within his words felt strange, no matter how much more common it was becoming. You recalled back to the moment you had confronted him at Kung Lao’s grave. He was doing much better now, but you had felt like something had fundamentally changed within Liu Kang.

You could never truly pinpoint when that change happened. Was it when the invasions had started? Or maybe, was it when Kung Lao died? Part of you doubted it was either one of those, even if it sounded like it made sense. It was probably much earlier, maybe after Raiden had said Liu Kang was not the chosen one. Either way, he had changed. There was resentment that lingered in his soul, directed at Raiden. You could feel it with every interaction.

It worried you. Team morale was low enough as it were without the subtle drama between Liu Kang and Raiden. It was taxing enough to keep on a brave face in front of everyone, to pretend like everything would be alright. You didn’t know if you had enough spirit left in you to mend things together. With every day that you had to hide your dwindling confidence, you broke a little inside.

You should really talk to him, but you feared that it would lead to more issues. Maybe you were being irrational and over thinking things. You were all tired, maybe he was just irritated at how the world has essentially fallen apart.

Surely that must be it. Liu Kang was not one to dislike Raiden. If anything, he had been the one out of all three of you who had regarded him the highest. So it was illogical to think that he would suddenly dislike or even hate the god.

You were just being too worried. Maybe your logic has become weaker after pretending everything was alright for so long. That, and Liu Kang and Raiden were adults, or in Raiden’s case, more than an adult. They can figure out whatever dispute they had, if they even had one. They didn’t need you to coddle them. You had enough on your plate already, you could trust them.

Still, even with that conclusion, a pit of guilt formed in your stomach.

Warmth radiated from Liu Kang, a detail that you noted as you were drawn from your thoughts. It enveloped you in a sense of security. You closed your eyes, and for a moment you had nearly forgotten how terrible everything was. You felt safe. You only indulged yourself in the sensation for a moment before you opened your eyes and forced yourself to look at the destruction below. You didn’t deserve to feel safe and comforted in a world that needed your help.

“I can’t believe it either.” You replied after a long, long moment. You didn’t know what else to say, because what else could you say? It was unbelievable to you as much as it was to him how awful things were, even after all your efforts. It felt like a perpetual punishment for something you’ve never deserved. None of you deserved this, and yet you were all saddled with the heavy responsibility of it.

The two of you stood on the rooftop, looking out at the horrors of the world for a long while. It wasn’t as if you enjoyed seeing it. Not at all, but you couldn’t bear holding a smile for the others right now. Being alone with Liu Kang was better for your soul at the moment. None of you spoke, either not knowing how to or unwilling to break the fragile silence that settled over the two of you. It wasn’t until you realized how much time had passed that the silence had been broken.

“I need to get going now.” You informed Liu Kang. “Nightwolf will be waiting for me.” You turned away, moving to walk away from the man. Then, you felt him grasp your hand. His grip was firm, but not harsh. Just enough to keep you there, but you could still shake his grip off if you needed. But you didn’t. Your gaze trailed up from the grip to his arm then settled on his face. “Liu Kang?”

“I-” He began. His hand trembled. For what reason you had no idea why. Worried, you turned to face him fully. You placed a hand upon his, trying to quell whatever had caused him to shake. His hand settled between yours. His gaze lifted, and for a moment that stretched into eternity, he stared into your eyes. There was a fire that seemed to burn in his eyes, then it slowly burned away into embers. A soft flush appeared on his cheeks, and it seemed he even stopped breathing. You rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb, trying to coax the words out of him. His hand twitched before squeezing yours. “I just want you to stay safe.”

You could tell immediately that isn’t what he wanted to say.

“I will.” You said, reassuring him. You didn’t know what he wanted to say, you just knew those weren’t the words he wanted you to hear. But you held no judgement for the man. He could tell you what he wanted to say in due time. There was no need to rush him. You simply smiled at him. You lifted his hand and pressed it to your chest so he could hear your heart’s beat. “This heart of mine won’t stop beating anytime soon, okay?”

A shy smile spread across his lips as he nodded. His gaze fixated on where his hand was spread upon your chest, feeling the steady heart beat.You could feel how his hand grew a bit warmer, a side effect you knew from him getting a little emotional, whether it be from sadness, joy, anything really. You stood there, letting him feel the reminder that you were alive for a few moments more.

“Alright.” You said, gently removing his hand. Though the man was tough as nails, you delicately removed his hand. You moved it down to his side before sending him a smile. “I’ll be back soon, hopefully with new recruits.” You assured him, giving him a nod. “You better stay safe too, okay?” You watched as the monk nodded slowly.

You left him on that rooftop, feeling the warm gaze of your friend follow your form as you descended down back into the base.

Waking up today was the first time in a few days where you did not feel mired in heavy emotion. That was not to say you didn’t feel at least a little somber, but you at least did not feel desolate. You didn’t think your bed could handle another frenzied episode. Your fingertips traced the sewn up areas a little guiltily. You were still hoping that it was enough to not make others not mad at you.

The last thing you’d want is to ruin the apparent fragile relationship between Outworld and Earthrealm over something silly like this.

You felt a little better at the idea that perhaps not all of your memories would be so heavy and dark. You swung your legs over the bed, and you moved through your morning routine with some grace. It was a small boost of confidence, but one you sorely needed. Maybe it was a little silly, but you didn’t linger on that type of thought process for long.

As you stepped out of the bedroom, the last bits of your somber mood felt like they disintegrated when the sunlight touched you. You felt light, but there was still a slight chill in the air. It was hard to deny that you missed the warmth Liu Kang would give you within your memories. For a brief moment, you wondered if it would be silly to try and stand close to the god to feel if he had that same warmth.

Right on cue, the familiar taps of princess Kitana sounded from the far hallway. As both of you made eye contact, you shared a nod in understanding. Both of you met halfway, falling into familiar step as you walked by her side. It felt familiar. You weren’t sure if it was because you’ve walked by Liu Kang’s side for years, or because of the implications of your memories that you might have walked by her side before.

It felt nice to have a companion to walk with, either way.

“I noticed you went around with the actor.” Kitana spoke, a tinge of amusement in her voice. You couldn’t tell whether she was amused at the idea of the actor, or you being with the man. “Or, rather, he dragged you around.” She quipped. You held back an exasperated sigh at the memory. Even the princess had noticed that?

“Yes, he was rather…” You trailed off, trying to think of the proper words to express your feelings without making a bad impression of the actor for the princess. “...persistent.” You watched her eyebrows raise, and she nodded. The very hint of a laugh left her lips. You blinked, you weren’t certain if that was the first time you’ve heard her laugh.

“I can attest to that.” She replied, a tone in her voice indicating that she understood, even if just a fraction, how stubborn Johnny Cage could be. “The actor would not leave me alone the day after the banquet.” She peeked over to you, a thoughtful look on her face. “Forgive me for saying that I had the thought to smack some sense into him.”

“I take no offense, I understand just how he is like.” You said, a laugh escaping your lips. “He’s rather stubborn whenever he wishes, but he has a good heart.” You said, hand raising to cup your own cheek. Your smile slipped into something that felt sentimental before it bounced back into its more friendly state. You shrugged causally. “Even if it isn’t apparent at first.”

“Such praises are more comforting coming from you rather than his own mouth.” Kitana said, and you could detect what you could only describe as a teasing lilt to her voice. You smiled warmly at it, and you saw how her own smile seemed to grow a little less professional and a little more genuine. It was like watching a flower blossom.

“I can imagine so.” You laughed, bringing a hand to muffle it. You could imagine Johnny bragging about himself to the princess, and her probably being annoyed at it. Or amused. Either way, you had a feeling that the impression he left upon the princess was not the one he desired. “I just hope he didn’t irritate you. Like I mentioned, he means well.”

“While he is persistent as any other who attempts to court me, he is far less brutish.” Kitana reassured you, making you feel a bit better about his flirting, “And, if anything else, he is amusing enough to listen to.” You let out another chuckle at the image of Johnny thinking he was wooing princess Kitana when in reality she thought him closer to a court jester.

“Don’t let him know that.” You informed her, making her quirk up an eyebrow. “He’s an…entertainer in Earthrealm. His ego would swell with pride at the idea that he at least amuses you.” You couldn’t tell if it was the trick of the light or not, but you swore you saw her roll her eyes at the premise of Johnny Cage’s ego swelling even more.

“I’ll keep that information in mind.” Kitana replied, a light tone to her voice. With that, the both of you arrived at the entrance to the Great Hall. She turned to look at you fully, a small smile still gracing her lips. “Enjoy watching the match.” She said, and you granted her the same sentiment. She walked off, content with your response.

To your surprise, Raiden and Kung Lao were not around yet, leaving only the fire god waiting in the Great Hall. You looked around. For a moment, you considered the possibility that you had arrived earlier. You then were quick to doubt that idea due to your walk with princess Kitana. She seemed to be very diligent on routine, so you doubted that you both would have walked out early.

“Where is Raiden and Kung Lao?” You inquired, moreso thinking about the former than the latter. It wasn’t like you didn’t fret over Kung Lao, it was just that the lack of Raiden appearing was strange. While Kung Lao was typically early, it wasn’t as if he didn’t allow himself to take more time to himself. Raiden, on the other hand, was always early. Almost to a fault.

“I am not certain.” Liu Kang replied, his voice calm. You looked over to see him composed as ever. He caught your gaze, giving you a small smile in return. Subconsciously, you found yourself standing near him. You noted the warmth he radiated. It was familiar, the same aura he had back in your memories. “I would not fret over it, I am certain they will be here in due time.”

“I know.” You said, and yet you found yourself biting at a thumbnail. Your gaze was cast downwards as you contemplated over the whole ordeal. “It’s just…odd.” You admitted. “He usually would be here by now. By he, I mean Raiden. Kung Lao sometimes shows up simply on time.”

“Indeed.” Liu Kang nodded. You could feel his gaze still on you. It did not sear you, rather it felt gentle. It was much like how it would feel if you were to hover your hand over a candle to feel its warmth. “However, he is also not the type to show up late if it is an important event. I would not worry over it, it will simply cause more stress.”

“You’re right.” You replied. You felt called out at the last statement, but you knew it was for the best. After all, you weren’t the best at keeping yourself from not being stressed. It was supposed to be a friendly reminder. You took in a breath, straightening out your back before lifting your head up. You shouldn’t be stressed.

A silence settled over the two of you. This silence was different from the comforting one you were used to. It was tense, like a string being pulled far too taut. You supposed it was your fault, you and your busy mind. That, and you've been finding it harder and harder to try and separate the man you remembered the god in front of you.

“Have you been enjoying your stay in Outworld?” Liu Kang spoke. His voice was soft. It was like a droplet of water falling into a still pond. It was so deliberate, so delicate, how he broke the tension. You turned your gaze, and saw the smile he sent your way. It was bittersweet, the way he smiled. It was exactly the same way you remembered.

“I have.” You said. You weren’t keen on lying to the god, but you did feel a bit bad admitting it. You watched his face shift a tiny bit, but you couldn’t quite read if that had any significance. You turned away, finding it hard to see the way he smiled. “It’s very…different.” You told him. There was a hesitance to your words.

Certainly you were struggling to find the right words because you didn’t want to make it seem like you were suddenly forsaking Earthrealm, but there was also something else to it. You enjoyed Outworld, you truly did. But you weren’t naive to blindly praise it to a god. There were, for all you knew, probably a darker side to this place.

The memory of seeing Shao Khan for the first time still lingered in your mind.

“I’m glad you have been enjoying it.” Liu Kang replied, a pleased tone to his voice. You felt his heat grow a little more. Curious, you glanced over to him to see he has stepped over a bit. He was standing so close that he was nearly brushing your arm with his own. “I hope you continue to enjoy your stay here.”

“How has your experience been for this trip?” You asked quickly, not wanting the tension to settle back in the air. You forced yourself to look at him, meeting those glowing white eyes. You wondered, just briefly, what caused the warm mortal eyes you once knew to become godlike. Was this just a new world where Liu Kang was deemed a god? Or was there more reason to it?

“It has been lovely.” Liu Kang said, seeming satisfied with the eye contact you gave him. “Not much has changed since the last hundred years since Outworld functions differently, but something about this time around has been more…” There was a pause as the god seemed to search the air for the perfect word to say. “pleasant.”

“I see.” You replied, but the words felt like a lie on your tongue. You understood the joys of being here, but not the reason behind why it was more enjoyable. The little voice in your head told you that you should know though. And you felt just a little dumb for not knowing the reason. Still, you kept the smile upon your lips.

It was hard not to smile when Liu Kang was looking at you that way.

It didn’t take long for someone to show up. That person was Kung Lao. A broad smile spread across his lips as he sauntered in. As he laid eyes upon you and the god, his eyebrows raised as he looked around, probably searching for his fellow farmhand. When he did not see him, he walked over to you two and looked around once more, just to make sure.

“Where’s Raiden?” He asked, the confusion clear within his voice. You saw him cross his arms as once more, he scanned the room. He seemed more certain that his eyes were in the wrong rather than believe in the fact that his friend was simply not here. You supposed no one could blame him, you were just as unbelieving when you had arrived.

“He's just a little behind.” You excused, trying your best to not show in your voice that you had felt the same way. You didn't want to cause a fuss. “I am certain he shall show in due time.” You saw the fire god nod in agreement, which only made sense since he had been the one to share that same sentiment. At your reassurance, you saw Kung Lao shrug nonchalantly.

“I guess so.”

Some more time passed, and despite your own words, you felt yourself getting antsy with every minute that the diligent man did not arrive. Kenshi had arrived at this point, sending the group a curious glance upon noting the disappearance of the champion. You felt your intertwined hands fidget and clench and unclench. The stare that Kenshi sent your way did not help either. He could do very well with being less obvious.

Finally, to relieve your worries, Raiden finally showed up with Johnny Cage at his side. You sighed as you walked over to Raiden. Your eyes raked over the man. He looked rather unkempt. His clothes were a bit of a mess, and his hat was a bit crooked. He seemed to be nearly on edge. Your tongue clicked as you reached out, adjusting his clothes and hat for him.

“You had us worried.” You admit softly, making sure that the man was presentable. After all, at this point, many of Outworld’s citizens were keeping an eye on Earthrealm’s strong champion. You sent him a small smile, trying to reassure him since you could see how tense he was on his face. You watched as his mouth opened to say something, probably an excuse, but you laid a hand on his shoulder to quiet him. “Hey, you’re here, that’s what matters. Plus, you’re not late either. Don’t worry about it, it’ll leak into your fighting”

“You’re right.” Raiden said, nodding slowly. You could see the nervous energy in him seem to melt away. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath in before releasing it. A small flush covered his cheeks, perhaps still from how he had rushed to get ready this moment. When he opened his eyes, he sent you a sunny smile that warmed your heart. “I will do my best.”

“I know you will.” You told him. You watched as Kung Lao handed over a few items for Raiden and Johnny Cage to eat. You could always rely on him for that. Raiden seemed most grateful at the gesture. Chatter among the group seemed to calm the former farmhand, and it was not very long until the usual proceedings occurred.

“Young Raiden.” Sindel spoke, gazing down at Raiden. You were impressed with how she kept her smile seeming this warm and cordial despite the trend of her champions being taken down by Raiden no matter how the odds seemed. “You have…bested all the champions thus far with grace skill.” The empress commended, though there was almost a slight strain to her voice as she admitted it, it was very subtle, hardly noticeable. “Let us see if this next contender can match your might.”

Surprisingly, after being absent yesterday, General Khan was back to announce the next champion.

“The next challenger is another one of my officers, Motaro.” The general spoke, his voice booming and echoing off the walls of the hall. The sound of hooves caught your attention, and you turned to see a centuarian walk into the halls. His stride was confident, and he walked in with his arms crossed. His gaze was tilted down already, almost glaring down at Raiden who was forced to look up at his opponent.

Despite being an officer, he lacked the same armor that both Kotal and Reiko had donned, being fully bare on his upper body. Only a silver belt concealing where a horse body fused into a human body was present as any sort of protection, and even then it was more decorative than anything. That is, until you spied the back of his horse body. A metallic tail more akin to a lizard’s was attached there. Your eyes lingered on the curve of his horns, finding them interesting. It seems that centaurians were not a simply a human fused with a horse body as Earthrealmers would believe.

You believe you’ve seen this man before, but whatever feeling you had was much weaker than it was for any other person you’ve met. Maybe this man was in your life for but a brief moment…still, if he was, it was strange your brain even felt like it recognized him.

“Motaro is one of the centaurian’s finest.” General Shao bragged, seeming more enthusiastic to talk about Motaro compared to Kotal from the other day. Motaro lifted his head up to bask in the speech, an almost pleased look on his face. “With the tenacity of a bull and the might of one of the best warriors I have fought alongside, he is one of the best warriors in the legion.”

“Little man.” Motaro addressed Raiden curtly. He snorted as he continued to look down at the farmhand. His countenance returned to the look he had previously, but it was marred with a near sneer. His gaze felt nearly as sharp as his metallic tail did. You watched as Raiden took the comment in stride, bowing to his opponent, not fearing despite the size difference between them both.

“It is an honor to fight you.” Raiden told his opponent. You smiled at how polite he was to his opponents, even despite the lack of respect he was granted in return. Still, you wondered if that would remain that way in the future. While the thought of Raiden trying to smack talk his opponents was funny to think of, you hoped that nothing would hurt Raiden enough to take him in that direction.

Motaro’s fighting style was unique, suffice to say. His unusual body type, at least compared to what Raiden had normally fought against. He would charge in a brutish manner, using brute force to try and make the champion cower. Despite his bulk, he also maintained a lot of the battlefield control when Raiden tried to create space by being able to shoot projectiles from the metallic tail that you had spied earlier.

Still, even with the trickiness of the fight, Raiden’s wit led him to victory. When he needed to close the gap, he would teleport behind Motaro. Due to Motaro’s body, he struggled to turn around and face the man before he was met with lightning that was strong enough to stagger even him. Sometimes, Raiden would realize that he would have to match the reckless nature of Motaro and surge right at him, catching the other man off guard.

It was no surprise to you to see that Motaro eventually collapsed. Taking deep breaths, Raiden looked down on his opponent, an ironic twist on the dynamic before. Except for Raiden, there was no hint of malice or disrespect in his eyes. Only warmth glimmered within his.

“Thank you for the match.” Raiden told him humbly, a soft smile on his lips. You watched him reach out to try and attempt to help up his opponent instinctively. He almost seemed to flinch when he retracted it when Motaro denied the help. There was a mixture between a scoff and a huff from the centaurian, but ultimately he nodded before he walked off. You eyed the tail that almost seemed to drag on the floor, making a slight scratching sound.

“Congratulations on a well fought match.” You said, walking up to the once again successful champion. His smile seemed to grow as you walked towards him with a delighted expression. It was almost like seeing a child light up when you gave them the sweetest candy in the world. “Your technique is improving everyday.”

“I can only thank you, Lord Liu Kang, and the monks for preparing me for these moments.” Raiden replied, seeming to fall back onto his habit of being far too humble. You sighed and shook your head in disapproval of how he still didn’t consider his own skills into the fray. Still, it was endearing enough that you still smiled.

“Do not forget how much hard work you have also put in, Raiden.” Liu Kang reminded him, practically taking the words out of your mouth. You saw the god’s eyes flick over to you for a moment. Whether that was in reference to how you and Raiden had often stayed up late training or if it was a reference to how the god knew what was what you were going to say, you could not tell.

“Yeah man, you killed it out there, even with sleeping in.” Johnny hopped into the conversation. You elbowed the actor at the mention of him sleeping in, maybe a little harsher than you should have after seeing how flushed the champion’s cheeks became. You heard the American clear his throat. “You gotta give yourself some credit, Raidude.”

“I will try.” Raiden said, a bit of hesitance in his voice. While it did seem to partially stem from the insistence from all of you that he should be giving himself more credit, you could also sense the hesitance coming due to the nickname Johnny had called him. You would never admit it, but the fact that even the kindest of your mentees seemed to hold a slight disdain towards the actor’s nicknames never failed to amuse you. Yet, all the same, the enthusiasm in him wanting to succeed and work hard on whatever his criticisms were shone through.

After discussion with Liu Kang, like usual, your little group dispersed once more. For a moment, you swore you saw Kung Lao linger for a moment before he seemed to walk off with Raiden. You weren’t sure if your eyes were seeing things correctly, though. The man who did stick around was Kenshi, who soon found his way by your side.

“Ready?” The ex yakuza member inquired. His eyebrows were raised as he looked at you. The way he gazed at you seemed to tell you more words than he said, like how he was willing to wait for you if you weren’t. You supposed it only made sense, from what Kenshi had told you before, that the Yakuza would need to be subtle and communicate with others with even the slightest nod. Still, it was almost like a fresh breath of air compared to the others who seemed like an open book compared to the man beside you.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You told him with a confident nod. Then, the both of you set off. The difference between the walk to Sun Do with Kenshi compared to Johnny was almost night and day. While it wasn’t completely silent, you both only had some chatter here and there. It didn’t feel like small talk, and comforting silence filled the air otherwise.

You took this time to try and sneak some glances Kenshi’s way while he seemed to remain vigilant in staring on the path ahead. Out of all your champions, you considered the man beside you to be the one you understood the least. While you did attempt to get closer to the man through food, there was still a lot you had left to learn about him. He wasn’t as eager to dispense knowledge as the others, even if he wasn’t totally private about the past.

The reason why Kenshi was so vastly different in this timeline compared to the other three was beyond you. It was a mystery you’ve been trying to unravel since you’ve met the man. His backstory was completely different, and the lack of powers he had previously made you question a lot about this life. Different backstories weren’t anything new, per se, but it was still strange how…different it was. From your memories of the world before, you could conclude that perhaps his lack of powers was from how he did not wield Sento.

You’ve considered confronting Johnny about giving the swordsman the sword back, after all the actor had it for a rather petty reason, but you’ve never gotten too far in your plans. You couldn’t guarantee that talking to the actor would do any good, that man was rather stubborn, even in the face of reason sometimes. But there was also another reason you’ve held yourself back.

You were afraid that the sword would doom Kenshi to some kind of tragic fate. Your memories of Kenshi's previous story were hazy. You couldn’t tell if it was because you simply didn’t remember, or if it was because you never sought out to ask too much about it in the past. Either way, you were upset with yourself over it.

What you did know for certain, despite the lack of memories, was that in your previous life, he had been blinded due an incident that had something to do with the sword. Yes, he did gain powers that enabled him to be more than he was, but thought of losing his eyesight because of it and you potentially being the catalyst for that was more than you thought you could bear. It wasn’t as if you could warn Kenshi of the dangers, you’d sound insane.

Plus, you knew with the significance of that sword, your warnings might go unheeded. You had a sense that the ex yakuza member was selfless enough to be a martyr for the sake of his clan. The thought of him giving up his eyesight willingly squeezed your heart.

You were willing to craft a hat for Kung Lao, there were no flaws behind that as far as you could tell. But Kenshi’s weapon had a lot more weight to it. You wouldn’t know if the consequences behind that influence were the same, and if they would be less than the positives. There was a lot more to consider. Even if your decision that you would err on the side of caution, you still felt guilty that you could not help and provide the weapon that the man beside you craved.

“You’re glancing at me a lot, should I be flattered or concerned?” Kenshi inquired, snapping you out of your thoughts. You found that you were now meeting the swordsman’s gaze who held you with an intrigued look. With a scene that felt all too familiar, you felt your face heat up again. How you’ve let yourself space out and stare so obviously at your companion two days in a row, you had no idea.

“Flattered, I suppose?” You said, awkwardness soaking your words after you cleared your throat. You found yourself unable to maintain eye contact. Suddenly, the blue sky speckled with clouds seemed interesting. You felt your hand creep up to the side of your neck and press against it. Compared to the heat of your face, your hand felt like an ice cube.

You didn’t know what excuse to say, or if you even should. Obviously, you couldn’t tell him the real reason why you were taking what you thought was sneaky glances. If you weren’t telling the god who took you in about your memories, you weren’t going to tell Kenshi. The issue was that now, you had no idea what excuse to even say, and you put yourself in a rather awkward situation because of it.

Despite this, it seemed that you didn’t have to. You heard a chuckle, and took a cautious peek to see Kenshi looking at you with a gaze that seemed free of judgement. His cheeks were tinged with pink. It seemed whatever excuse he had gleaned from what little you said satisfied him. You weren’t sure what his assumptions were, but at this point, you figured you were far too deep to ask what he thought it was.

This was the consequences of your lack of sneakiness, you supposed. You didn’t find yourself too upset though. It seemed to make him pleased enough, and that was enough for you.

The rest of the walk to Sun Do left you feeling just a little lighter.

You both wandered into the city, deliberately leading him in a different direction you had gone with both Johnny and Raiden. You didn’t need to retread those places, you knew very well that you wouldn’t find the gift for Bi-Han you wanted in those shops. It would only waste precious time. You both went from shop to shop, peering at possible gift ideas with careful eyes.

Shopping with Kenshi was much different than the other two. With Raiden, he had been far too passive. He seemed to enjoy peering at the wares and agreeing with you more than scrutinizing the items. He4 didn’t provide any meaningful feedback in terms of whether the gift was appropriate or if it felt right. You didn’t blame him, you had a feeling he was far too elated by simply being in the heart of the capital. That, and he was the one who invited you to explore rather than shop.

With Johnny, he had a completely different taste than you did. He often criticized your choices for being too “tame” or not flashy enough. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst opinion, you had gone for subtler gifts, but the gifts he offered before the ribbon had all been rather…gaudy and definitely didn’t fit the Lin Kuei. It was almost a miracle he had spotted the ribbon and offered it up.

Kenshi, on the other hand, was almost like the perfect shopping companion. His tastes seemed to align with what you were searching for, so that was a far better companion than Johnny. Not only that, but he was very inquisitive and seemed to take every comment you said to heart. You couldn’t resist a smile as you realized this nature was the exact reason why you had chosen Kenshi in particular to critique your cooking.

“How about this?” Kenshi inquired, lifting up an intricate blue sash. You hummed as you leaned in close to peer at the fabric. You plucked the item that was draped over his hands, your fingertips brushing against the inked surface. You lifted up, studying the details. Then, you squinted at it more as you tried to imagine Bi-Han wearing this sash. Your nose wrinkled at the fact that you could not conjure up that image.

“I think we should stray away from accessories like this.” You concluded. “I don’t think Bi-Han would find himself wearing anything in accompaniment to his uniform.” You explained. The swordsman nodded as he took your words into consideration. You handed back the sash to him so he could place it back. With careful precision, he folded the sash before delicately placing it back into its former spot. Had you not known the man, you would have never guessed his dark past with how he carried himself in his actions.

You scanned the area, looking for other ideas while Kenshi also perused the store. Nothing in particular for the grandmaster caught your eye. This store was mostly filled with accessories, which was not the type of gift you could imagine giving Bi-Han. And yet, despite this, something did catch your eye. You walked closer to get a look.

It was a set of five rings. Though they looked initially plain, the closer you inspected them, you saw the beauty within the craftsmanship. They were intricately engraved, small patterns dancing along the metal. But the part that caught the eye the most was the gorgeous gems set into each of them. Each one had a different color, gold, pink, blue, green, and red. You marveled over the rings and were pleasantly surprised to see that the rings had some minor magic, so they could be resized on their own.

You looked and saw they had a special deal if you bought the whole set. Your eyes lingered on the rings for a moment more. How perfect this would be as a gift for your champions. A smile appeared on your face as you thought about it. You glanced back at the bag where you held your gold. Maybe if you had left over gold you could come back for these.

“I don’t think this place has what I’m looking for.” You told the swordsman, striding over to him. You stood slightly in the way of the rings. You didn’t think he’d notice them since it didn’t align with the idea you had for Bi-Han. But still, you wanted to keep it a surprise, just in case. Luckily, it seemed that Kenshi hadn’t noticed where you had gone.

“I agree, especially since this place is geared towards accessories.” Kenshi replied. He nodded in the direction of the door, his hand gesturing for you to lead the way. You did just that, managing to glance back at the rings one last time. You knew that if you did, Kenshi would be likely to notice with how much he’s been noticing your stares. Then again, you supposed that’s because your stares towards the swordsman were rather…obvious. Still, you wouldn’t put it past him to notice the little things.

And so, both you and the ex yakuza member were back on the streets. But not for long. This time, Kenshi pointed out a shop. At first, you hesitated, gazing at all the porcelain cups and teapots. You weren’t certain if these ceramics would be an ideal gift, but then your eyes landed on a particular teapot set in the window. You were so fascinated by it that you stepped inside to get a better look.

The teapot set in question was delftware styled. The blue painted ceramic was decorated to be depicting a snowy wonderland with snow leopards as the main focus. Your eyes studied the set carefully, marveling over it. It had some gold accents around the rim, giving it that extra pop. It even came with a little tea pet, a snow leopard. At first, you couldn’t imagine gifting Bi-Han such an item, but the more you marveled over it, the more you couldn’t imagine giving him anything else.

“With the way you’re looking at that, I think I did my job.” Kenshi remarked, walking up next to you. You smiled over to him, and you saw on his face a very pleased expression. He crossed his arms as he took his gaze from you over to the set. “It’s miraculous how cheap these items are here, back in Earthrealm, these would be worth a fortune.”

“I can’t believe it either.” You agreed with a nod. You eyed the price. It definitely was cheaper than you would expect, but the quality didn’t seem terrible despite it. Looking at it for a few more moments, you nodded once more. “I think this is the one.” You told your companion. Kenshi hummed, his eyes lingering on your decided gift before pointing to something else.

“While we’re at it, you should probably get him some tea.” The swordsman recommended. Your eyes landed on the displays of various teas they had. You walked over, noting how they felt similar in style to the dried teas you served for Madam Bo. On a closer look, some of the teas even appeared to be the same. For a brief moment, you wondered whether a long time ago Earthrealm had some of their teas imported here. It didn’t seem too far off an idea.

You scanned the various teas they had on display. For a moment, you considered picking a tea unique to Outworld. But then you considered how awful it’d feel to gift something that he might enjoy, but then never be able to savor once again in his lifetime. For that reason, you decided it might be better to chose something that he may be able to get at home.

One particular tea caught your eye.

You grabbed the box of the high quality tea, inspecting it. You had never considered this to be made into tea. You couldn’t help but to smile down at the box, too amazed at the fact that tea was a thing. You held it up to show to Kenshi who quirked up a brow.

“Parsley tea?” He asked, eyeing the box carefully. His voice sounded skeptical. You shrugged, but you already knew that the moment you had laid eyes on this particular type of tea, you were going to buy it. Something within you simply told you that it just fit him. That, and you couldn’t deny that you were interested in how it tasted. From the look Kenshi gave you, he seemed to know you were already set in your ways.

With a little pep in your step, you walked over to the Outworlder at the counter. After discussing which set you wanted along with the parsley tea, you soon found yourself back onto the streets with a very nicely wrapped gift in your hands. As you were walking back, satisfied with your findings today, you spied the shop with the rings you had looked at earlier.

“Could you hold this for a moment?” You asked the man. You swiftly handed him the gift and quickly walked off into the shop, ignoring the perplexed look the swordsman had sent you. You couldn’t blame him, you had said you only needed one more gift.

Stepping inside, you were thrilled to see that the rings you had your eye on were still there. Elated, you quickly asked the clerk for the rings. The centaruian seemed more than happy to oblige, giving you a few boxes to carry them in. You slipped the gold one on, eyeing how the light seemed to reflect off of it perfectly. The rest you slipped into your bag. You wanted to keep them a surprise for now.

Checking the money you had left, you were delighted to see you had enough to buy one more gift. That would be reserved for Liu Kang.

“Find everything you needed?” Kenshi inquired. He peered at you, his eye catching the sight of your new found accessory. You nodded, beaming happily at the man. You reached out, hands extended to take back the boxes. Despite this, you found the man pulled away from you, boxes clutched securely to his own chest. “It’s fine, I don’t mind carrying them.” He insisted.

“I don’t want to burden you with them.” You said, furrowing your brows. You made a reach for the boxes again, but the man simply side stepped your attempt. You sighed, placing a hand on your hip. “This is rather childish of you, Kenshi.” You chided, trying to see if you could convince him to give back the gifts. And yet, despite your words, the man was adamant. You sighed once more, shaking your head. “If you insist.”

“I do.” The swordsman quipped back, a victorious tone in his voice. You resisted an eye roll and made your way back to the palace. Once there, you led the ex yakuza member back to your room since he insisted on helping them carry them back all the way back there. As you finally regained the packages, you peered at him for a moment before opening your door. “Wait a moment for me, okay?” You asked.

You stepped into the room, placing your packages along with the other gifts you’ve bought. You removed the rings from the bags, admiring them once more. For a moment, you considered bringing them all in so you could give them at dinner time, but then you paused, remembering you hadn’t gotten Liu Kang’s gift quite yet and how awkward it might seem. Plus, you fancied the idea of giving the gifts privately. It would seem more personal that way.

“Thank you for waiting.” You said as you strode out. You placed your hands behind your back, hiding the little box. You supposed you were as sneaky as a toddler attempting to hide whatever mess they’ve made, because Kenshi quickly sent you a questioning look and leaned over to try and peek. “Here.” You handed over the box, scanning his features for his reaction. “A gift.”

“You didn’t have to.” Kenshi said, his voice shocked. He tried to hand back the box to you, but you pushed into his hands. After that, he relented. He scanned the box, probably trying to guess the present before he opened the box. You felt elated as you watched his surprised reaction to the ring. He lifted it up, watching with amazement as he slipped it onto his finger and it fit perfectly. “This is…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” You remarked. You held up your hand to showcase your golden ring. “I thought this would be the perfect present for all of us.” You then gestured to the red ring. “I chose that color specifically for you.”

“Why red?” Kenshi inquired, looking between the ring on his hand and you. You smiled at him, a small laugh leaving your lips as you looked directly into his eyes.

“Simple. I think it matches your eyes wonderfully.” You explain to him. A soft flush appeared on Kenshi’s face, and he appeared to have been stunned into silence. His mouth closed, then opened, then closed once more. Then, a soft smile appeared on his face as his gaze cast downwards to the ring on his hand once more.

“Thank you.” Kenshi mumbled softly. You grinned at him and placed a hand on his arm.

“No problem, I’m glad you like the gift.” You told him. “Now let’s go, I’m hungry.” You walked off, leading the way. You missed the fond gaze Kenshi sent you way, taking one more glance between the ring and you before following you.

Dinner went smoothly, and it was just as delicious as before. You were tempted to make plans to go shopping for some Outworld type of seasonings before you left so you could cook up some food the reminded you of this place. Maybe if you had left over money after Liu Kang’s gift.

It was yet another wonderful night in the garden. You basked in the moonlight as you waited patiently for the princess to emerge from the palace. You perked up as you heard the familiar sound of heels, and smiled as your eyes landed on the princess.

Oddly enough, there was not the more prestigious and refined look that she usually held. Her face held something that reminded you of the first time you encountered her here. She seemed…upset. You raised your eyebrows as she drew near. When she noted you in the spot, her face shifted, masking her previous attitude with a smile.

It reminded you of Empress Sindel’s smile towards Raiden.

“Are you alright?” You inquired, testing the waters. You saw her smile strain, like a string being pulled nearly too taut. Her hands, which had been folded in her lap, squeezed together as if she were squeezing out her frustration.

“I’m fine.” Mileena replied, her words clipped. You couldn’t sense any hostility within her words, but you could tell that asking about her situation would probably be unwise. You didn’t blame her, you weren’t that close after all. You nodded slowly, taking her attitude into consideration. “How have you been?” She inquired quickly, eager to divert the topic of conversation.

“I’ve been fine, I went and shopped more today.” You told her with a smile. You could read the signs of her frayed nerves and played along with her plan, changing the conversation away from herself. You saw her eyes dart to your hands. You looked down and saw the ring. You lifted your hand to showcase it, allowing her to get a better view.

“I can see that.” The princess observed. She leaned in closer, analyzing the accessory and how it fit on your finger. You saw her expression change slightly, going from a more fake look to a more genuine smile. She looked at it for a few moments more before leaning back and looking at you. “It suits you, you have a good eye.”

“Thank you.” You replied, staring down at the golden gem which shone so prettily in the moonlight. You smiled, still feeling the high of making a satisfying purchase. You paused, considering what to talk about next due to her slightly antsy mood. “How was your day, princess? I’m excited to see how you fare against Earthrealm’s champion tomorrow.”

“My day was alright.” Mileena replied, her eyes looking away into the garden. There was almost an empty tone to her voice, as if she were not telling the entire truth. She rolled her shoulders back as she cleared her throat. “I…” She began, then paused, her face scrunching a bit as she seemed to ponder on the words she would say next. “I am interested to see how I fare against him as well.” She replied, the same smile from earlier appearing on her lips.

You couldn’t tell entirely, but you could sense the aversion towards the topic of fighting. Was it that she was nervous? You scanned her. No, it didn’t seem so. But the reason behind her distaste towards the topic was one you weren’t certain of.

You couldn’t quite ask her about it either.

“What story would you like to hear today?” You inquired, quickly changing the subject. You saw her posture relax a bit, and what must be a breath of relief left her lips. Very subtle actions, but actions you noticed. You suspicions were definitely correct, she had some type of issue with fighting Raiden, or the topic of it.

“Anything light hearted would do.” The princess requested, the relief of the topic change showing on her face. You pondered on this, humming as you considered the various stories and movies you’ve seen. What could possibly cheer her up? You smiled as you recalled the first movie you saw and turned to face her.

“Alright, then how about this one?”

That night, you didn’t quite know why she was upset, but you knew you uplifted her spirits.

part sixteen

tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko

194 notes · View notes

moronkombat · 8 months

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Hello hello! May I please request some more Liu Kang headcanons? He’s the loml and I absolutely love the way you write him. Please take your time and don’t overwork yourself. 💜

You are from Earthrealm and live a relatively normal life, unaware of the other realms that lurk across the stars

Simple your life may be but you do not mind it. It keeps things easy for you. Or at least, it was simple

Liu Kang happens upon by accident but you don't notice him but he sees you

He finds himself pausing and taking in the sight of you. There is a peace about you that captures him and he wants to get to know you. He wants to ask you your name

But how can he when he the Protector of Earthrealm and appears otherworldly? He thinks it is a lost cause getting close to you and so he leaves

The thought of you doesn't, however and Liu Kang is growing more and more curious. He wants to know you but he knows he should not

Then why is he disguising himself? Why does he hide his godly gaze behind a layer of dark brown?

Why is it his mystic tattoos that brim with magic go covered? What is he doing? What is he thinking?

He's not thinking. For once he is just doing and not thinking it through. A dangerous decision but it has been made already

Returning to where he last sees you, he waits and waits until finally there you are and he finds himself smiling

Liu Kang approaches you and introduces himself but without the extra title of Protector of Earthrealm. You would smile to him and introduce yourself and that how your relationship blossomed

It would only continue to bloom as the two of you spent more time together. Liu Kang keen on inviting you out to lunch or a quick cup of coffee even though he never did enjoy the taste of it

You two would chat for hours while the coffee you ordered goes cold. He asks about you and you are an open book, happy to share with someone who you consider a friend

He shares about himself too but the truth is very stretched. He tells you he used to fight professionally in China but has not settled down here

There is a sting of guilt when he sees you smile at his lie and he frowns to himself while you aren't looking but what is he supposed to tell you? The truth is too great

The two of you fall into this routine of meeting each other for chats that soon turn into evening dinners and there is a definite affection between the two of you now

He's walking you back home and that's when you pause. Your door is opened and normally, you'd give him a wave goodbye and the night would end

Not this night. Liu Kang is invited in, an invitation he readily accepts. The two of you enjoy some drinks and your conversations into the night

Eyes look into each other and the two of you smile. Close and closer you are now. So close until there no space between you and him any longer

Liu Kang makes love to you, soft and sweet. Your hands are locked together throughout it all, even when you both fall asleep

There's a new routine now, one where you two are joined in a romance that is whirlwind and magical but Liu Kang knows it cannot last this blissful for long

He wants to tell you the truth, the full and complete truth but he knows it will change how things are and he does not want to burden you with the knowledge of other realms when you seem so content in the life you have now

Unfortunately there is little choice for him. His relationship with you has not gone unnoticed and those who wish to destroy Liu Kang target you

They strike when you and Liu Kang are on other date. Where it once quiet there now the crash of brick and glass combusting. You shriek and Liu Kang wraps his arms around you, shielding you from the debris

His eyes would narrow and slowly their dark hue lightens and shines to their true nature and you are left with you mouth agape

Surprises continue as flames erupt from him that flash gold and azure. You can only sit there in the rubble and watch as the man you have grown to love is revealed to be something else

Liu Kang finishes the fight quickly but the damage has been done. He is exposed and you stare at him with such terror and awe

When he gets closer to you, you cannot help flinch away and Liu Kang feels despair when he sees you lurch back but he understands

He tries to explain everything but your mind is spinning. Different realms? Gods? What happened to the man you had fallen in love with?

He still there but changed and revealed. It will not be easy but you tell him you do not want him to go. That you want to get to know him, the real him and he is happy to do so

#mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat fanworks #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #liu kang x reader #liu kang #liu kang mk1

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ilasillusion · 1 year

Text

anger issues (pt.2)

STARRING. ao'nung x na'vi!reader

CONTAINING. fluff, established relationship (mates), no use of y/n, living together with ao'nung, time skips, soft ao'nung

WARNING(S). none (please inform me in the comments if you spot anything!)

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

synopsis: ao'nung's sudden change in attitude ends in a heated argument that lasted for days; cold shoulder, silent treatment, absolutely no interaction between you two. however, he couldn't risk you leave his life the longer you don't talk to each other so he pleads and asks you to give him another chance.

translation: mawey - calm down, yawne - beloved

the night that fell upon pandora quickly disappeared with the sun rising. the sun radiating on your skin, as you felt warmth. warmth from the sun and him, you slowly opened your eyes adjusting it to the light. you panicked a bit seeing you and ao’nung cuddled up in bed. suddenly having a bit of a relapse to your argument, so you squirmed and breathed out in panic waking him up.

ao'nung awoke eyes widened looking at you, seeing that you were panicking which made him feel a bit hurt. “hey, hey. it’s okay… i’m not angry. you're okay... we're okay....” he said softly pulling you back in his arms, he brushed your hair gently to provide you a sense of comfort as your breathing stabilized.

“i’ll never ever shout at you like that again, hm? i give you my word” ao’nung said softly planting a kiss on your forehead, hesitating to kiss you on your lips. it’s been almost a week since you two kissed each other, which had him on edge for your love. little did he know that you were too craving for his touch as well.

you sat up, unwrapping his arms from your body. standing up so you could go to the kitchen and drink some water. ao'nung follows behind you like a sad lost puppy, your tail swishes a bit remembering the time how he followed you around like this when he couldn't admit that he liked you and wanted to court you. “can we talk?” ao'nung asks you, also drinking water.

you nod as you grab his hand to lead you and him back to the bedroom so you could talk in a more private setting rather than the open area-d living room. this made him smile as you grab his hands.

you and him sat on the bed as you try to avoid his gaze making his ears tilt downwards. ao’nung broke the silence, “i’ll immediately book an appointment with my mother… and i’ll attend as possible." causing your ears to tilt a bit which he notices.

"is there anything else i can do to show you just how sorry i am for what i did?” he softly says, grabbing your hands into his, desperate for to hold you.

with his grip on yours, you stood up making him stand as well. you pulled him to the table inside the bedroom, tilting your head to it to make him look there, as your tail lowly swished. showing the broken necklace that laid there untouched since you placed it the day of the argument.

the sight of the necklace immediately made ao’nung’s heart sink. he couldn’t believe that he damaged such a gift out of anger, such an important token of you two’s relationship. seeing the shell have a cracked signified the current situation of you two,

“i’m… so sorry, my love.” he whispers out as tears threaten to come out his eyes, he lightly squeezes your hand. “i don’t want to make you a new one, as it might seem that i’m replacing the memories it had… but would you prefer one?” he asks as you continued to stay silent, frowning a bit as you stared at the necklace.

“give me the chance to fix this, to fix us. to make you happy again? i know what i did was horrible, i- i have no words to reason out, but i promise to work hard to improve myself… please” he kneels down still holding your hands as he now sobs, hearing him cry and sniffle tugged your heart.

“stop crying…” you whisper out, squeezing at his hands to make him stand up. he stands up, still crying as he looks at you with his now puffy and teary eyes.

“leave me alone for a while…” he gave a sigh of relief when you mentioned for a while. he gives you a nod and a smile, “i’ll give you time, as much as you need. i just want you to be happy, and i’m willing to wait…” he says, letting go of your hands. his dropping to the sides as he steps out of the room.

"ha... it's you and me again." he mutters to the living room woven floor as he sat upon it, not knowing what else to do as he felt lost.

you lay on the bed feeling tired and exhausted from doing absolutely nothing so you took a nap.

waking up hyperventilating, you struggled to breathe. you were feeling scared of your surroundings so you broke down on the bed. ao’nung heard you crying as he ran inside, forgetting about the space and alone time you asked.

he immediately wrapped his arms around you as you sat up, he gently caressed your head whispering sweetly to your ears to calm you down. “mawey, yawne… mawey…” he hesitates to peck your lips so he plants a soft kiss on top of your head instead as he tries to cradle you in his arms.

“what can i do? please… i don’t want you to leave me.” he softly says, his voice breaking as you look up to see him starting to cry. you nuzzle your face into his chest, taking in his scent.

“stop asking, and… i’m not leaving you, okay? i’m not… i just, i’m lost in my thoughts because i want us to be okay but i also want you to know that what you did was wrong so i'm distancing myself.” you said, looking up at him.

ao’nung kisses your forehead gently, hugging you tightly. “i really am sorry for what i did. you’re very important to me and i want you to feel better.” he says letting out the tension inside of him, he was glad that you to are at least talking again as you now gave him replies instead of the usual silence. “i know…” you softly reply to him, nuzzling back into his chest.

he kisses your forehead again gently, “i love you, you are my ocean. i hope you can forgive me one day, and i hope that by holding on to me at least feel some reassurance that i’m here…” he says softly as you only nod, not saying it back which he visibly frowns.

you two spent the day talking forgetting about the time was past eclipse. he had you in his arms again giving him relief that you two are finally sleeping on the same bed again, he disliked sleeping on the cold woven floor of the living room area without a mat, but he had to endure it considering his past actions hurt you.

you squirmed in your sleep, slowly waking up. jolting awake as ao’nung noticed you, yawning. “hi…” he says yawnily, still a bit sleepy. “hi…” you reply back in a hush tone hiding your face in his chest which gave him flutters. “you got therapy today?” you ask.

ao’nung forgot to visit his mom to ask for a therapy session due to staying with you at home all day yesterday, he didn’t want to lie to you by saying he has one so he chose to be honest not wanting to break the current fixation of you two’s relationship right now. “no, i don’t… i forgot to go yesterday.” he whispers, scared of your reaction but he knew it was the best approach rather than lying. “but i’m going to tell my mom today though.” you give him a nod and a small smile for choosing to be honest.

“i know i said it countless times- i really am sorry for ruining the necklace, the things i said- shouted…” he trails off, “i love you, so, so much. i’ll go today, get therapy until i improve myself. i understand if you’re feeling confused right now with me…” ao’nung says softly but sternly, feeling genuine remorse for what he did.

you planted a soft kiss on his nose, avoiding his lips in the meantime. ao’nung can’t help but smile at the kiss you planted, it’s one of the most familiar gestures between you two after all. it brought him back to your first kiss after your first date. “do you forgive me? can you forgive me?” he asks. “i’m trying, don’t rush me. you skxawng.” you sternly say, letting out a small giggle which makes his ears perk at the sound of you. “alright, sorry… tell me, is there anything i can do right now to make you feel a little better?”, “make me breakfast?”, he laughs at your request but complies as he unwrapped his self from you to stand up.

“i’d love to make you breakfast, will anything do?” you nod in response as he proceeds to cut up some fruit and place them in a bowl.

“here you go, love! breakfast in bed!” ao’nung exclaim happily, his tail visibly wagging behind him. “thank you… my love.” you whisper the last part, and fortunately ao’nung heard making his tail wag more a few bites later which gave him an idea.

“do you want to talk? as we eat? if it’s okay…” he cautiously suggested which made you happy. you and ao’nung loved to look back at you two’s memories, anniversaries or any celebration to lift up the mood or simply for fun, which became a routine for you two whenever one of you had a bad day. you assumed that it was what he pertained to so you nodded.

“where do you wanna start? from the beginning?” he smiles. “i remember asking you to help me with carrying my shells back home when we were children…” you smile at the memory as we ate.

“that’s because you took to much to carry! you should’ve brought a basket back then...” he playfully scoffs at the memory of you roaming the shore and grabbing shells as many as you can back then, where he would pick up the rest that would fall out of your arms.

“yeah, but you clumsily made me one the next day…” you softly smile, knowing the basket with shells is somewhere in the room. “hey! i did my best okay! i even asked my mother and tsi’reya for help…” ao’nung’s ears turn a bit pink in embarrassment.

"what about that one time where i came home from a hunt? where i had light bruises and some wounds." he mentions to you, which kinda agitated you remembering how badly you scolded him while he was just enjoying you lecture him. "you're the reason i keep having to make ointments! you should take care of yourself more when you hunt!! quit bumping into corals."

you and ao’nung continued talking til both of you ended up with empty fruit bowls. “…but then our argument…” you trail off, getting cut mid-sentence by ao’nung. “yes, i said terrible, awful things when i was mad. i should have never... under any circumstance said what i said or shouted at you.” his ears go back and down, feeling guilt.

“well… how about we approach your mother so you could attend a therapy session and consult her?" you suggest to him, as you look at ao'nung with love in your eyes.

"i… i want to see your attitude improve, my love. not that i think you have a bad attitude-! i just don’t… i don’t want you shoving me… calling me a freak or shouting things like that… when you have a bad day.” you softly say, grabbing his hands and rubbing your thumbs on it.

you noticed ao’nung’s ears immediately perk as soon as you called him love which made you happy inside causing your tail to swish, and for sure ao'nung as well.

“it’s okay, i understand what you're saying..." he whispers looking into your eyes. "i want to improve myself and for you as well… shall we go?” he says grabbing both of your bowls to place away.

you nod, “i’ll escort you on the way and pick you up after your session” smiling, as both of you fix up the bed and bring the dishes back to the kitchen area.

ao’nung’s heart feels a bit lighter. he feels confident that he can fix this, and improve himself for you.

previous | next

a/n. hope you enjoyed reading you and ao'nung's relationship improve through this pt.2! likes, reposts, and comments are appreciated! lmk what you think cuz there is still a pt.3!! (and i might add a bonus!)

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delta-pavonis · 11 months

Text

July Kinkfest Days 4 & 5

The Sandman || Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) || Rated E || 939 words

Prompts: Possessive Sex | Body Worship | “I had a dream about you.” - Exhibitionism | Aftercare | “I’ve always wanted to try this.”

Warnings (in addition to the prompts above): getting together, jealous Dream, rough sex, biting and other post-sex superficial injuries

Author's Notes: Two days combo platter! Five out of six prompts! Whoo!

As his lover dozes, Dream traces the marks left on Hob’s skin. Not the scars, but the recent ones, bruises and welts and scrapes, left not so long ago by Dream’s fingers and lips and teeth. And as he touches each one he checks that it is superficial, urges each gently into healing, and memories float to the surface.

It started with one of the New Inn’s regulars, Eliot Sutton, a New Yorker at the end of two years of post-doctoral work in astrophysics and cosmology, who had sought work abroad as he was fleeing his broken engagement and family strife. Dream knows these details immediately upon looking at the man, but what actually matters is that he and Hob are in the back of the pub, sharing a table and a pint, papers and books spread out before them, working in a familiar and companionable silence.

On Hob’s hip, long finger-shaped bruises are starting to purple. Dream can hear the echo of Hob’s sob of pleasure, of relief, as Dream finally sinks his cock into his loosened, slick hole. “Yes! Sweetchristyes!”

As Dream gets closer to the table he learns more: Eliot Sutton has a black cat back at his apartment that he adopted from a local shelter because she was twelve and looked like she needed a friend. He has a collection of old manuscripts on Babylonian astronomy that probably should be in a museum. The man reaches to take a sip of his ale and spends a moment staring at Hob. Dream picks up the edges of an erotic daydream, no the memory of a dr-

“I had a dream about you last night.” The man interrupts Dream’s thoughts as much as Hob’s work and both stop mid-movement.

Long red welts along Hob’s back are receding, no longer as sharp-edged and raised as when Dream’s nails made them, scrabbling for purchase as Hob bent the Dreamlord in half as he fucked him with deep, rolling thrusts. “Let him see. Fuck, invite the entire college, the entire city… let them all see how I lose myself in you. Only you.”

“Did you now?” Hob takes his own pint in hand, downing a large swallow. “Let me guess, a nightmare about me, a lowly history professor, grading your uni papers?”

Eliot very clearly lets his gaze get dark, his voice suggestive. “Not quite. Although it did involve a desk.”

Hob blushes. “El…”

More nail marks, clear crescents in sets of four, overlap each other across Hob’s shoulders, a few crusted with dry blood. Dream cleans them with a careful touch and hears his own growls in his ears as Hob drops to his knees in front of him. “Is this how the most devoted priests feel when faced with their god?” He nuzzles into the base of Dream’s leaking cock, licks tentatively, making them both shudder. “Willing to exalt, to glorify, to praise, with mouth and tongue, with words and breath, with body and soul…” He presses the flat of his tongue to the underside, making Dream gasp and claw into his shoulders as he licks a line up to the tip. When next Hob speaks his lips brush the head with each word. “I would worship you, my Dream.”

Any further answer is interrupted when Hob catches sight of Dream in his peripheral vision and his face breaks into a smile wider than any he has seen directed at Eliot. “My friend!” Hob stands to greet him, to bring him to the table with a hand on his shoulder. “It has been less than a week since we last met! I was not expecting to see you so soon! Not that I am complaining, mind you – I welcome your presence, day or night.” Hob turns to his table-mate. “Eliot! This is my oldest and dearest friend D-”

“Morpheus.” Dream interrupts, putting out a hand to shake as is current custom. Hob blinks at Dream, confusion passing across his face for only the slightest moment, before he motions for Dream to sit with him in his side of the booth.

Eliot shakes Dream’s hand amiably enough, but his eyes narrow at how close Dream slides in next to Hob.

Smaller bruises litter the top of Hob’s shoulders, his collarbones, underneath his jaw. Dream touches each one and remembers its unique taste, remembers making them with his hungry mouth as he unbuttons Hob’s shirt. They are barely inside his flat, crowded into the corner behind the shut front door. “Oh fuck,” Hob moans, arching into Dream’s touch, tugging at Dream’s hair. “If only I had known, love… I would have ventured to make you jealous sooner!”

Eliot leaves not ten minutes later and Hob gives Dream a pointed look. “Was that really necessary?”

Dream stares right back. “He dreams of having you. Not just carnally. Intimate in all senses of the word.”

One of Hob’s eyebrows makes a break for his hairline. “And that is a problem because…?” But he must see something in Dream’s expression, because Hob leans in. “Does that make you…” Hob licks his lips and Dream’s eyes follow the motion of their own volition. “... are you jealous, Dream?”

The last bruise is a nebula of colors along the side of Hob’s nape, created through repeated attention from Dream’s mouth as he fucks Hob through another of his own orgasms. Hob’s cock has long since been exhausted, but still he pleads for Dream to take him, to fill him, to use him. Still he wishes only to be a vessel for Dream’s pleasure. So as Dream drifts downward, finally sated, he purrs into Hob’s ear. “Mine.”

#julykinkfest2023 #Dreamling #nsft #read the warnings #Pavonis writes

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kylobith · 5 months

Text

The Little Tiefling (Gale of Waterdeep x Tav)

Word count: 2,955

One afternoon, as Tav takes a nap, Gale seizes the opportunity to bond with their three-month-old daughter by reading her a story.

Clad in his purple robes, Gale closes the bedroom door as softly as he can, wincing as the hinges and the wood creak. Before walking away, he perks up his ears, awaiting any grumble or moan from the other side. Nothing.

Relieved that he was gentle enough not to wake his partner, he tiptoes to the stairs, only to be interrupted by a loud cry. Months ago, he would have pictured himself whimpering and sobbing along upon hearing this sound so often in a row. Still, now that he was in the thick of it, nothing could eff the smile on his face. Sure, some days are more demanding than others, but he is more than grateful to any deity above to have been granted the privilege to experience it. It is a second chance, one most craved and prayed for.

So, Gale renounces the little free time he planned for himself rather gladly. He slithers towards the nursery at the end of the hallway, careful not to cause any more ruckus than the baby already does. Once inside, his face illuminates at the sight of the squirming little thing in her crib, grabbing at the air while screaming her lungs out.

‘Hey there, sunshine,’ he coos. ‘Awake already, aren't we?’

He bends over the cot and picks up his daughter, pressing a few kisses to her cheek before cradling her in his arms. In a mere instant, he is a man transformed. Tenderness and affection radiate from his twinkling eyes while the most beaming grin burns onto his cheeks. As he has so often done since he first beheld his partner, he cannot help but think that his arms were designed for two things: for holding his beloved Tav and for carrying his child.

Gale caresses the thick, feathery hair on the child's head, kissing her forehead while rocking her. Sooner than he anticipated, the baby calms down, but a nose scrunch remains on her little face. He walks out of the nursery and heads downstairs, momentarily setting her down into her lounge chair in the kitchen so he can prepare a bottle. He sings to the two of them all the while, occasionally spinning on his heel to coo the lyrics at his daughter while making silly faces. She watches her father with round eyes, drooling over her knuckles.

With a giggle, he picks her up and takes the bottle to the living room, feeding her on the couch.

‘Sorry, little one, it's just us this afternoon. Mum needed a break.’

His daughter eyes him again, her face finally relaxing now that she is eating. He chuckles and extends his index finger to poke her tiny nose.

‘But that means that you and I can catch up a little! So, tell me, how's life treating you?’

Silence. Of course, there would be.

‘Oh, I see! Many new things to explore, huh? Don't worry, that never stops. That's what’s so exciting about life if you ask me.’

The suckling noises fill the air, and he could not be more elated to have this quiet moment with his baby.

‘You know, adventures will await you at every corner of the world,’ he speaks fondly, already imagining her growing up. ‘It will be up to you to accept challenges or to deny them. Of course, you won't always do exactly what you like every time, and that's quite alright. You'll need that to evolve and enlighten yourself beyond books. But when you feel uncomfortable engaging in something, know you have the right to say no. It’ll spare you much heartbreak and pain, trust me. Promise you'll do just that?’

He stares at his daughter briefly before laughing to himself.

‘That's right, you're just a baby. I'll take your silence as a promise for now, though. Sorry that your old man needs a little reassurance now and then. He'll need much more once you grow up, especially if you dabble in magic. Don't want you summoning a bloodthirsty creature and unleashing it on the city, now, do we?’

Gale grins and gazes at the girl, remaining silent as she drinks the rest of the bottle. Once he finishes the feeding routine, he carries her around the house on a whim, showing her the view from each window and pointing at everything to be seen. He tells her about the bustling streets of Baldur’s Gate, the sweet smells whenever he passes the baker and how he always needs to restrain himself from heading inside to buy several pastries. He reminisces about strange encounters with locals and foreigners alike, those noteworthy enough for him to still grin whenever they cross his mind. He describes the hammering in the smithy in intricate detail, portraying it loud enough to resonate through the neighbouring streets.

When the baby fusses, he shoots glances around.

‘Oh, of course! Where's your owlbear, now?’

Before the child cries, he finds the little stuffed toy in the dining room, probably put away on top of the cabinet when Tav was too exhausted to think about where to put it. He grabs it and playfully rubs the toy's velvet beak against his daughter's nose, producing silly sounds he never thought he would indulge in when he was still single. The baby laughs, warming his heart and softening his traits.

‘How I love you, little one. Never doubt that.’

With another kiss on her forehead, he takes her to his library, which they now partly use as a playroom for the girl. The bottom shelves are long cleared of any of Gale's books, instead filled with baskets containing toys, games, emergency pacifiers, and bibs. It has become a new thing for Tara to nibble on the pacifiers as of late. It happens so often now that Tav has considered dedicating a separate budget for them alone.

A quilted throw lays on the ground, already dotted with stuffed toys and rattles. So much love has been woven into this blanket, skilfully created and sewn together by Tav during the pregnancy. Each square represents essential milestones in their lives, a work still in progress. A purple and black hole in a rock with a hand sticking out of it is embroidered on the first square, a playful nod to how Gale and Tav met. The following one pictures a serene scene by a campfire between the two, then the third shows them connected to the Weave. Tav's favourite square of all shows them under a colourful starry sky, the moment when she understood that she fell in love with the quirky wizard.

Other squares show Gale's proposal, their wedding, their new house, Tara, and her pregnancy. Another one features the two of them holding their newborn daughter, doting upon her. Possibly the most joyful event in their lives so far.

Gale gently places the child on the throw and sits next to her, not caring whether the belt of his robes is undoing itself, leaving the hems to gape around his torso. He shakes one of the rattles in front of her, but she seems more interested in nibbling the stuffed owlbear gifted by Karlach. He chuckles, knowing she would melt on the spot if she knew about it.

As father and daughter play and bond, it occurs to him that life could not improve from there. This is it, the pinnacle of his happiness. Teaching on weekdays while having enough time to coddle his wife and daughter, to study and read while petting Tara… No, it truly cannot get better than this.

When he senses that the child grows sleepy again, he puts down the toys and takes her in his arms.

‘Dozing off already? Am I this boring? Ah, I guess. One day, you will think that your mum and I are the dullest people you've ever met, but if only you knew why we became so…’

The girl yawns, and he giggles. No matter how often it occurred, it always filled him with such warmth.

‘But I think that your mum would kill me if I told you the story when you're not old enough. Or at all, actually. You need not be burdened with such things.’

Sitting her up on his hand, clutching her against his chest, he walks her over to a specific section of his library, making her look at the books.

‘Any favourite for today, duckling?’

Another yawn. Gale kisses the top of her head and finds his attention caught by a particular book in his collection. A beautiful edition, bound in green leather with gold embossings. It is one of the first books he purchased when Tav was expecting, in one of his many children's books rampages in the city. He wished to ensure that his child would never run out of stories to escape reality to, that their creativity would constantly be challenged and encouraged, and that the world would come to them when they could not take them into the world yet.

Sometimes, when the excitement or anxiety of becoming a parent seized him at night and ebbed him away from sleep's shores, he would pick one of the books and read to Tav's belly, caressing it with his fingertips lightly enough not to awake or disturb her. And just like that, fear would drift away, enabling him to swim back to the land of dreams.

‘How about The Little Tiefling, mh?’

Tilting his torso back, he reaches for the book and paces towards the armchair in the corner by the window. He sits down, propping his daughter against him and letting her curl up naturally, letting the sun filter through the windows onto her angelic face. His fingertips caress the embossed cover and flip it open to the first page.

‘The Little Tiefling,’ he announces with a hint of pride.

He clears his throat and adjusts his position to make them both more comfortable before starting to read aloud.

‘Once upon a time, there was a little tiefling named Yalaia. According to her mother, she had the most beautiful auburn hair, but according to her father, she had the cutest button nose in the realm. But there was one thing that Yalaia wished for above all else: horns.’

The door creaks open, and Gale's eyes dart to it, only to find Tara nudging it open and rubbing against the doorpost. With a grin playing on his lips, he beckoned her over with a nod.

‘Oh, hi, Tara! Come to listen to the story, too? Come in!’

The tressym, understanding her friend's every word, happily hops into the room. She comes to rub against his bare calves for an instant before leaping onto the armchair and sitting on top of it. Emitting a loud purr, she nuzzles his hair, earning a chuckle from the wizard. He balances the book on his knee for a second to pet her on the neck and wings. When the baby fusses, he kisses the girl's forehead and continues to read.

‘Her mother had elegantly curved horns, reminding her of fauns. Her father had proud and sturdy ones, making him look taller than he was. But Yalaia only had nubs above her brows.’

The baby yawns, and he gently strokes her bent leg with his thumb.

‘One morning, as she headed outside to meet her friends to play, she found with horror that they all had small horns protruding from their foreheads. But not Yalaia. As they played, she stared, wishing her turn would come. As her parents tucked her in that night, she wished to wake up with horns. And she did so every night that followed. Sadly, she woke up every morning with nubs.’

Above him, perched up on the backrest, Tara tilts her head to gaze at the beautifully painted illustrations.

‘When she saw that more of her friends grew their horns as if it was the easiest thing in the world, Yalaia felt rather sad. She felt that she did not fit in and was different from other tieflings. Now, as she prayed for horns every night, she did so with tears brimming her eyes. But it was not enough.’

Gale kisses his daughter's forehead again, seeing that she is nodding off.

‘As her favourite uncle came to visit with her cousins one day, she was shocked to discover that all her younger cousins already adorned shiny horns. So, between lunch and dessert, she snuck out of the house and ran away. It seemed that she did not belong. Perhaps she was no tiefling at all.

‘Worrying as soon as she left their sight, Yalaia's family relentlessly looked for her, calling her name. Neighbours and friends, shopkeepers and strangers joined the search, hoping to find Yalaia safe and sound and bring her home. They went through every house, every garden, every shop, every cellar, every attic, every chest and every barrel. They combed the streets, the hills, the riverside. When her mother ventured into the forest, calling out for her daughter, her cries were met by a whimper.

‘Huddled up by a rock in the middle of the woods, Yalaia sniffled and wiped her tears, relieved to see her mother. After running for hours to hide, she lost all sense of direction in the dense forest. She had turned and paced forever until she decided to remain by the rock. Whatever she was expecting to come for her was not her mother, so the joy to be found was only sweeter.

‘Yalaia’s mother cradled her in her arms, tears dripping onto her hair. What a fright it had been! She told Yalaia of everyone joining the family to search for her and how everybody was so concerned that all activity had ceased. The blacksmith had climbed the hills to see the landscape better in hopes of finding her, while her friends had retraced their paths to every place they explored together.

‘“Mama,” said Yalaia, “why would they look for me? I am different. I look different. Why were they not happy that I left?”

‘Yalaia's mother was saddened to hear such words from her daughter. But then, with the brightest smile only a mother can bestow, she replied, “Because you are one of us. You may think you are different, but we all are in our own ways. The baker does not always see eye-to-eye with the guard, yet when celebrations come, they dine merrily at the same table and share the same wine. Everyone has a place among us, and so do you, no matter who you are or what you look like. You are one of us.”

‘“But Mama, I don't have horns, and all my friends and cousins do!”

‘Her mother smiled and pulled her locket from beneath her dress, opening it to reveal two painted portraits. On the left, a young tiefling with orange skin smiled at the onlooker, while on the right, an even younger one with a reddish complexion did the same. Their pose was not their only common trait. Both children lacked horns.

‘“Do you see the girl on the left?” Yalaia's mother asked. “It was me when I was a bit older than you. I did not have horns yet, which made me sad, too. But I came to learn that everybody is different and evolves at their own pace. There is no wrong way to grow, no wrong way to belong to your people. All you need is to be kind and accepting. Everything will come in time, with a little bit of patience.”

‘And so, Yalaia hugged her mother, reassured her that nothing was wrong with her. Together, they left the forest and happily announced the good news of Yalaia’s return. Everyone was merry that day to know that the little tiefling was found. That night, she did not wish for horns, only for her kin to fare well. And when she awoke in the morning, two little horns were on her forehead.’

Gale gazes down at his daughter and smiles from ear to ear as he finds her fast asleep.

‘The end.’

‘Don't you think it's a bit of a complex story for a three-month-old?’

His eyes dart towards the door, only to find a dishevelled Tav leaning against the doorpost with a grin. Even with deep circles underneath her eyes and knots in her hair, she looks as radiant as ever to him.

‘There you are, my dear,’ he chimes. ‘Didn't you want to nap longer?’

‘Couldn't bring myself to it. I missed you both too much.’

‘I see.’

Gale laughs and puts the book aside, carrying the sleeping baby to Tav.

‘She and I had a lovely afternoon. She was an absolute sweetheart.’

‘That's good to know. How long has it been since you fed her?’

‘About two hours ago.’

‘Mmh. It's almost time again, then.’

She takes the little girl from his arms and props her up against her shoulder, cupping the back of her head and kissing her hair. Tav’s attention is drawn to a pile of boxes in a corner, and she sighs.

‘You still haven't dealt with those?’

‘I meant to do it this afternoon, but I got carried away playing with her and all,’ Gale admits, scratching the back of his head. ‘Don't worry, I'll get to it today.’

‘At least return Astarion's gift first. That's the first one I want out.’

Gale follows Tav out of the library, lovingly holding her by the waist.

‘My First Wine-Tasting Kit. Who even gives that to a baby?’

‘The question is: who sells that in the first place?’

Both chuckle and exit the room, closing the door behind them to return to their cocoon and family life, leaving Tara to curl up on the warm armchair.

Tag: @emmanuellececchi

#This came from a conversation I had with a classmate where we both agreed that Gale would be an awesome dad #I started drawing the reading scene but I'm not satisfied with it #I'll try it again #Gale of Waterdeep #Gale Dekarios #Baldur's Gate 3 #Baldurs gate 3 #BG3 #Gale of Waterdeep x Tav #Gale Dekarios x Tav #Tav #BG3 fanfiction

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amandaoftherosemire · 9 months

Text

Second Sight -- Part Fifteen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU/MCU AU

Pairing: Loki Odinson X fem!Reader

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4,811

Format: Series WIP

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only, oral sex (m and f receiving), facefucking, intercourse, angst

Summary: The kind of person who likes to keep your head down, you know you’ve made a huge mistake when you lock eyes with the god come to life that had attempted to take over your world. You find out you were right when Loki snatches you off the street. Able to see through his magic no matter what spells he weaves, he first tried to contain you, then to understand you. When he had to leave you, he discovered he was in love with you. Now that he has you back by his side, he'll do what he must to keep you safe.

A/N: I haven't been doing well the past few months, struggling with a dip into depression, burrowing and isolating along with it. But I’m climbing out, and rewriting and editing this chapter felt like a step in the right direction. I won’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep, so I'll stop saying anything about soon, but I am still committed to finishing the story.

<<Part Fourteen here

Second Sight Part Fifteen

You lay on the couch in Loki's study, snuggled into plush cushions and decadent comfort. The furniture in all of Loki's palace was preternaturally comfortable. In what you thought of as the breakfast nook, even the wooden chairs at the table overlooking the shimmering nebula seemed to curve to your form as soon as you sat down. No matter where you sat, or lounged, whatever you reclined upon would itself seem to invite you to relax, the more horizontal furniture suggesting a nap. You had a very hard time refusing that invitation, especially when you were bored.

This minute, bored didn't begin to cover it.

Loki was buzzing around the room, as active as you were lethargic, his new project animating him. The energy wasn't positive, however, but edgy and fretful. He wanted answers, and every denial only heightened his frustration. Every obstruction became fuel for the fire that drove him. You, on the other hand, were half-asleep, a defense mechanism against the crackling shiver his dissatisfaction left in the air. First you tried to escape by reading, but ended up dozing in defiance, a book falling out of one hand and a small cube of metal held tightly in the other, in a fist next to your heart.

"Time," Loki said, seeming to appear out of nowhere, his sudden appearance startling you out of the beginning of a dream. You would have sworn he'd grumbled his way into the next room, but you'd only been half-awake at most and couldn’t be sure you hadn’t slept through his return. Though he could slip in between the shadows when he wanted to disappear from one place and appear in another, his pocket dimension was already between the shadows. He had not yet found the way into the shadows within the shadows, and so could not pop in and out as he did outside of his palace. Surprised, but still too sleepy to react much, you blinked up at him.

Loki had his hand out and his eyes on you, but he wasn’t seeing you, too lost in his own thoughts. In his furrowed brow and far-off gaze, you could see he was distracted by the calculations he was still working in his head. Despite his absent mind, he reeked of impatience as you tried to remember what the two of you were doing. He seemed to seethe for the brief moment it took to shake yourself fully awake.

You lifted your arm, the cube in your hand only a few grams and easily handed over. "Nothing," you said, smothering the indulgent smile that wanted to overtake your face at the sight of him frazzled and on the verge of disheveled, "not even a tingle." At least not from the cube; the look of Loki, on the other hand, had tingles of excitement beginning to ripple through you. Despite that fact, you kept your face neutral and your hand out for the next cube.

"Were you even awake?" Loki replied doubtfully.

"Barely.” You answered the question with a sneer and sigh of irritation. “But I know the difference between dying and dying of boredom.” That your hand was still out made you sniff in impatience, waiting for him to hand you the next.

He raised an eyebrow and dropped an opal matching the ones in the pendant bought on Alfheim into your palm before turning away in a swirl of bad temper. You couldn't explain why, but little revved your engine like seeing him surly and on the verge of mild violence. His temper was in no way directed at you, and somehow the cold sneer of frustration on his face only made him sexier.

Unable to help yourself, you carefully stripped your voice of any emotion but innocent curiosity and asked, "Any progress?" You made sure your expression matched your tone as you carefully prodded at his temper.

As he settled behind his desk and picked up his pen, he shot you a look as vicious as it was arousing. The more he snarled and sneered at you, the more you wanted to push his buttons. If you pushed him far enough, eventually all that frustration would turn into a passion that he would unleash upon you like a storm. You fucking loved it.

Loki's eyes narrowed as he took in your guileless demeanor. You were teasing him, and despite the aggravation climbing from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck, some part of him loved the endless paradox you presented. You sat there, smugly mysterious, no matter what effort he expended to solve the puzzle, or how complete your cooperation. To find his predicament amusing was simply adding insult to injury.

He would always wonder and never understand how you could so consistently set his temper ablaze even as you made him hard as iron. That he could see a twinkle in your eyes telling him that you knew exactly what you were doing made his heart flutter. Nevertheless, the fun of the game was in the playing. His voice cold as the world of his birth, his eyes molten emerald, he replied, "Even the elimination of possibilities is a kind of progress."

You felt like licking your chops, he was so delicious. His hair was mussed, tumbling around his face in defiance of the tie into which he’d pulled it. The slightest of flushes colored his cheeks in the heat of both vexation and desire. You waited until his eyes dropped back to the page in front of him before you spoke, the laugh under your voice almost, but not completely, suppressed. "So, no, then."

Loki’s eyes snapped up to toss a quick glare and snarl your way before immediately turning his attention back to his notes. You snickered, delighted with the progress you'd made in annoying him, and went back to your book. Converting Loki's irritation into desire was a slow, careful process. You decided to back off for the moment to let him simmer down a little before you added more heat to the fire.

Loki stared, unseeing, at the page in front of him, trying and failing to understand this new puzzle. He wasn't really making any progress. The thought struck him that loving you was yet another kind of double-edged sword. The things that made him love you were also the things that made you impossible to decipher. Even with the extra information he had gone back to Alfheim to collect, he still had a mystery on his hands.

On Alfheim, Loki had cornered the merchant that sold him the necklace that had hurt you so, determined to find out how such a harmless looking thing could come so close to incapacitating you. As it happened, he'd had a long list of questions for the being. Not least of which, he wanted to know why the merchant had said nothing about the possibility of harm, though he’d suspected it was because of the illusion that made you appear Asgardian while you were at his side. He couldn’t quash the hope that a being who encountered so many different peoples would give him some kind of lead on why you were so stubbornly magic resistant.

He hadn't told you about the trip before he left, figuring it was better to ask forgiveness than permission for what he might have to do. Really, he'd only had to terrify the merchant a little, had drawn hardly any blood, so even after his return, he'd seen no reason to worry you with the details of the conversation. They'd still been breathing when he'd left, if one counts hyperventilating in fear, and Loki absolutely did.

He knew you would probably be angry at the way he'd threatened them, though, which was why he wasn't telling you. He'd had to be sure that they'd told him the truth, all of it, and that had required more severe tactics than you'd accept. He wondered if he should feel guilty for lying to you about it, but he couldn't work up the energy. He'd told you that the merchant had been easily bribed, and you hadn't inquired further. He saw no reason to worry you with the dirty details, and it wasn't as though you didn't know him to be an unrepentant liar.

Regardless of the ethics of his methods, or your opinion on it, Loki was as close to certain as he could be that the merchant had told him the truth of exactly how and of what the necklace was made. Between the merchant’s dismay that the necklace had harmed you and Loki’s imaginative threats, he was reasonably confident that the merchant had answered all the questions put to them truthfully. Wanting time and space to systematically experiment, he'd dragged you into his pocket dimension to discover the truth. As per usual, when it came to you, the truth was elusive.

Which is how he'd ended up in his study, trying to hurt you to protect you. To prepare for the experiment, he’d dismantled the necklace, noted the component pieces and their amounts. He’d then acquired everything he thought he’d need, created carefully portioned samples to match everything in the necklace. He had to find out if it was some specific substance that was hurting you, or something unique to the necklace that he couldn’t see. Perhaps something that matched what he didn’t see in you.

But experimenting on you to discover what other vulnerabilities you had in addition to those that already tormented him was even worse than he’d imagined. Every time he had to hand you a cube of metal or a gem in the hopes that it would weaken you, his stomach would drop in dread that he was about to hurt you, that you would collapse into that terrifying weakness. Each time you failed to react, his body prickled all over at the knowledge that he would have to keep trying to hurt you.

He tried to focus on his notes, on the next items he'd need you to test, but all he could think about was the close call on Alfheim, all he could see was your sickly face as you'd sagged against him. His eyes were on the cube of Alfheim steel he had to hand you next, but his gaze was on his own terror. He wasn’t sure there was a way to make you safe enough to satisfy him. Still, his heart yearned to balance on the edge of danger with you, to share the shadows with you.

The safest place he could think to take you, and a trifle almost killed you. Loki would laugh if it wasn't so infuriating.

Loki looked up when your shadow fell over him, startled to find you had somehow moved across the room to his side and he hadn't noticed. Your expression serious, your eyes narrowed in concern and the corners of your mouth tight, you raised an eyebrow in question. Loki responded automatically, pushing back from the desk, turning his chair to offer his lap.

As usual, you immediately took advantage of his change in position to slide into his lap, holding out the hand that held the Asgardian opal he'd given you. "This one isn't doing anything, either," you said, as you dropped the jewel onto the desk in disdain when he didn’t immediately take it from you. You slid your hands around his neck and linked them, pouting into his surprised face. "And I'm bored."

While Loki had been brooding, you’d been watching him stare at the book in front of him in dark contemplation. He'd clearly been lost in thought, and those thoughts seemed to torture him. You could see that the challenge wasn't thrilling him in this project, that the lack of progress was discouraging rather than energizing him. Worried by the disheartened look all over him, especially when you’d been trying to rile him up, you’d hatched a plan to pull him out of his black mood.

When the testing period seemed to come and go and he still hadn't looked up from his unseeing stare, you took the opal back to him, determined to distract him from what was bothering him. Just because you couldn’t fix his problems didn’t mean you couldn’t take his mind off them, as well as take your own mind off all the problems you and he created for one another.

You looked over the desk, counted seven more items to test and smiled to yourself. Seven shouldn’t be too much of a challenge, even considering his preternatural control. Holding out your hand, you huffed, eyes sparkling with the thrill of beginning your game. "Gimme the next, then."

Loki leaned back and looked at you where you sat in his lap, suspicion narrowing his eyes when your hips shifted to slide your hip and ass over his groin, blood immediately rushing to the area in response. You shifted again, encouraging his erection, and he could see light come into your eyes and mischief trembling on your lips. "What are you up to?" he asked with an amused drawl and a raised eyebrow as he reached out to snatch up the Alfheim steel.

Your smile spread in wicked glee when he put the cube in your hand. "I'm making this interesting," you replied as you slid from his lap to your knees facing his erection. You placed the hand holding the piece of metal on his knee while your other hand worked at his waistband to bare him to first your gaze and then immediately your touch.

Loki's head fell back with a sigh at the feel of your hand gently circling his length. He smiled at the ceiling, unsure what had brought this on, but hardly interested in protesting when he was the beneficiary. "You have my attention, love," he murmured when he felt your breath on the tip of his cock.

"Good," you replied with a low chuckle, thrilling at the sight of him already giving into you. Your hand softly and slowly twisted around him as you smiled sultrily up at him. He lifted his head to look at you, wicked green eyes watching you with excitement tempered by a wary amusement. Your smile widened in response to the vague suspicion you saw on his face. "Because there are rules."

Loki’s head dropped back down onto the back of his chair as he huffed out a petulant sigh. "I hate rules."

You laughed out loud and placed a gentle kiss at the tip, making his cock jump in your hand. "I know," you purred, smug that you could have him breathing faster so quickly. He looked back at you, unable to resist watching you pleasure him. The sight of you kneeling of your own volition at his feet brought him more satisfaction than any other offered supplication of his life. "That's why rule one is if you break any other rules, we trade places."

"I accept rule one," Loki replied, grinning down at you. You laughed up at him, unsurprised by his ready agreement. You both knew Loki didn't follow the rules when there were negative consequences; this first rule was tantamount to inciting rebellion.

You bent to place your mouth back on the tip of his cock, your tongue flicking out to taste him, your eyes falling shut as you closed your mouth around the very tip. His eyelids fluttered in response to the feeling and he groaned in his throat as he watched you take him a little further into your mouth. At the sound, your gaze lifted to his, burning excitement incinerating you both. "The next rule is that you can't come until you're done testing what you have on your desk."

You whispered the words against the soft skin beneath your lips before fully closing your mouth around the head of Loki's cock and sucking gently. The wondering sigh of pleasure that escaped his lips made you shudder with lust, your own heart speeding with excitement. Stoking his desire always inspired in you an equally powerful need, the two of you alike in that way. Making the other moan and quake and beg was something you both found unbearably exciting.

You lifted away from him for a moment to speak, but your hand moved with purpose as you twisted it up and down his length, spreading your saliva over him and making him shudder out a breath. "Last rule is,” you gasped, your breath already coming fast and shallow, “I only stop if the something in my hand feels different." When Loki snickered and reached down to brush his thumb over your cheek, you shot him one last wicked grin, and bent to the challenge you'd set yourself.

You wanted to make Loki come before he finished his test. You loved taking control, making him lose his. The exhilaration you felt that you could, that he trusted you enough to turn himself over to you, was as glorious as any you’d found with him. Maybe it was cheating to expect him to realize he was still in charge of the testing, but you couldn’t keep track of everything. Besides, he was supposed to be preternaturally clever; you assumed he could figure it out.

Still, you were enjoying yourself nearly as much as he was, though his hums and purrs of pleasure made clear he was especially lost. While the current sample remained in your palm, you didn’t see any reason to rush. You held his cock in the hand not resting on his knee while you placed sucking open-mouthed kisses slowly down his length. Your eyes never left his burning stare as he watched you place the flat of your tongue against the back of him, lingering as you dragged it up his length.

When you got back to the head, you took him back into your mouth. Before you closed your eyes and sucked him deep, you raised your brows and tilted your head towards the hand that still rested on his knee. In the next moment, you slid your mouth down and over him, relishing the sensation of smooth skin covering steel. Loki cursed and you chuckled around him when you felt the other steel in your hand disappear to be replaced by a larger sample of metal. When it, too, had no effect, you focused on driving Loki out of his mind.

"Oh, love," Loki moaned, already half wild as his head tilted back in bliss. He loved the touch of your hand, the feeling of your mouth moving over him with teasing gentleness. His hips were trying to move but he held himself back, trying to keep command of himself. He couldn’t control both his hips and his breath, which shuddered out in rapture. "Your mouth is magic."

You hummed happily, the corners of your lips stretching in a smile around him even as your mouth began to move over him a little more quickly, a little more firmly, taking him a little deeper. Your hand wasn't still either, working up and down along with your mouth to push him higher. You hadn’t considered when you started this challenge that you’d tied one hand behind your back, so to speak. You were used to touching him more, had to get creative.

Loki's hands left the arms of the chair where he'd had a white-knuckled grip, holding on to his control. Lost in the feeling of you sucking him into your warm, soft mouth, his hands reached for you, cupping your cheeks to tilt your head toward him. When your eyes fluttered open to burn into his, he couldn't help the tiny thrust of his hips into your mouth.

You'd taken him deeper than ever before when you chuckled in response and the feeling of your laughter around his cock had his eyes blurring. He was doing everything in his power to hold back his climax, even if he could remember exactly why when your mouth and throat and hand were so diabolically working him toward ecstasy.

Despite how much he loved to watch you please him this way, his eye was drawn to the wiggle of your fingers around the cube sitting on the hand you hadn't moved from his leg. He could barely concentrate, the swirl of your tongue around the head of his cock destroying his mind, but he snatched up the metal in your hand and dropped it on the desk on his way to grabbing the next sample and giving it to you.

Loki forced himself to focus on control, determined to hold back until you had the second to last of the test materials in your hand. He wasn't going to leave you unsatisfied at the end of this. Even if he didn't love using his mouth to bring you to sobbing pleasure, he'd still want to show his appreciation for you. He’d been losing himself in the future and you’d brought him back to the only thing that mattered, the glorious now he was sharing with you.

Focusing on control, however, meant concentrating on you and what you were doing to him. You wanted to win, and you were doing everything in your power to drag him to the edge. The longer he held out against the diabolical things you were doing to him with your mouth and hand, the closer he came to delirium. The desperate need had teeth clamped around the base of his spine; only the strict grip he had on his body was stopping him from fucking your lovely face.

By the time he dropped the sixth item into your palm, he was sweating and on the edge of begging or taking, he didn’t know which. You had done everything you could think of, had whipped out every strategy you’d ever heard of, had exploited every weakness you knew, to push Loki to this point. His hands wrapped around your upper arms, his grip tight almost to the point of pain but an exhilarating kind. The kind that made your heart race and your blood boil.

"My love," he growled when you moaned long and low, in an almost whimper, in response to another of those little thrusts that he couldn't always control. His hands held you in place to rock exceedingly gently over your tongue. "I'm about to come down your lovely throat."

You moaned again, moving faster, insanely aroused at both his control and every little sign of its loss. To your shock, Loki was suddenly standing, the chair sliding out and away from him as he came to his feet in an almost violent burst of movement. His hands were on each side of your head in the next moment and you were dropping the cube in your hand to brace yourself on his thighs.

"I need to--," Loki cut himself off with another purr of pleasure as he began to slowly, easily rock himself in and out of your mouth. "Pinch me if you want me to stop. I swear I'll stop if you want me to…" he trailed off when you gripped his thighs and shifted to allow his cock to glide more easily over your tongue.

His head fell forward on his neck to look into your glowing eyes when he felt your hands moving to encourage his thrusts into your mouth. He didn't know how you managed to forever surprise him, but as he fucked your mouth with faster, rougher thrusts, you welcomed each as you stared with burning eyes into his.

Those burning eyes started to water as he pushed his cock more deeply into your throat, but you didn't retreat, wanting to feel everything, wanting to give everything, wanting to take everything. When a single tear fell down your cheek, you pushed yourself forward to meet Loki's thrusts and it was all he could take. At every line, every boundary, you always danced with him along the knife edge of anything and for someone like him, nothing in the universe could compare.

With a stuttering groan of your name, Loki slammed himself deep into your mouth, the long wait, the aching teasing before the rough loving finally wearing through the last frayed thread of his control. For the first time in what might have been centuries, Loki’s mind went blank. He could barely hear your pleading cry of desire, surrender, the tip of his cock choking you as he did as he'd warned and came down your throat. You swallowed and swallowed, your body wracked with arousal as you savored the knowledge that you'd made him lose control.

Loki looked down at you, his hands still holding your face, his thumb catching a small drop that had escaped the corner of your mouth. You turned your face a little to take his thumb in your mouth and suck the last drop from it. The sight had him shuddering with fresh desire as his hands left your face to grip your shoulders and pull you to your feet.

Before you could blink, you were sitting in the chair, and Loki was kneeling at your feet, pushing your skirt over your knees. He picked up the sixth sample from where it had fallen to the floor and threw it to the desk. Picking up the last, he turned back to place it in your hand. The next thing you knew, Loki was spreading your legs and hooking them over the arms of the chair to give him an unimpeded view of and access to the core of your body.

Loki flashed you a wicked grin before bending close to run his fingers over your folds and whisper, his breath brushing your overheated flesh, "Rules are rules, my love."

A long time later, you and Loki lay curled on his study floor, naked and satisfied. Loki had thoroughly loved you with mouth and hands, bringing you to the edge of orgasm over and over until you’d begged for mercy. When he’d ultimately given in to your sobbing demands, the climax that took you was the most powerful of your life, leaving you boneless and breathless, draped across another of his high-backed leather thrones.

When he’d risen over you like the pagan god he was, your thighs had trembled, in trepidation or anticipation even you couldn’t be sure. He’d cooed to you then, in love and praise, before arranging you to his liking and sliding the iron bar of his erection inside you. You'd been sure your body couldn't climb to yet another peak, but he'd wrapped one arm around your back and cradled the back of your head in his palm to tilt your head for his kisses. With his other hand, he’d taken a hold of the back of the chair in a crushing grip and used it as leverage to pound into you. The burning focus of his eyes and the wild abandon of his surging body was something you rarely saw him indulge and never tired of witnessing.

By the time he came inside you with a roar, he'd pushed you up and over twice more.

You were deeply grateful to be done with the testing, at least for now, because you were completely exhausted. You wanted a bath, a snack, and a nap, in that order. As soon as you could find the energy to get off the floor, you were going to drag Loki off for all three.

"Did you drop either of the last two because they felt odd?" The two of you had been sharing a companionable quiet in the aftermath of so much passion when Loki's voice gently broke the silence.

"No," you murmured against his skin, smiling slightly at his ability to immediately get back on task after being diverted. You didn’t move your face from where it was pressed against his chest but snuggled into the arm he’d snaked around you to hold you tightly to him. "Nothing today felt like the necklace did.”

Loki sighed, and you heard the frustration in the sound, though his words had a sexy, teasing cadence. Though you’d managed to thoroughly distract him from his dark musings, the troubles that followed you both couldn’t be so easily dodged. "You know that means more tests."

You sighed in resignation, though the secret romantic voice in your mind sighed at the undercurrent of devotion. You knew he wouldn't stop, because despite his recklessness, he wouldn't be careless with your safety. A thought dug into your brain like a tick that he may never be fully content with your protection. You knew how your human frailty distressed him. Still, the testing may have been boring, but you didn’t mind too much, not now that you’d found a game to keep you both occupied in the meantime.

"Then I guess I better hydrate."

Part Sixteen here>>

Taglist:

@hellzzzbelle @cheekygeek05 @lbouvet @diinofayce @bibliophile1773 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @miraclesoflove @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @destiel-is--endgame @irritated-bisexual @peaceinourtime82 @badassbaker @walkingtravesty97 @fashionworld12 @readermia @fukyouthink @felicityofbakerstreet @lumar014ad @thedistractedagglomeration

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #pantswrites #second sight #series wip

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melis-writes · 1 year

Note

Hello Melly, I started watching a film by Malena and her story is very sad, she is mistreated and abused by men and women just because of her beauty, if it seemed that in her place it was Victoria where it takes place in Sicily, some man try to touch her and then find out that she is a Don's wife and what would Michael do, because we know that Victoria is very attractive and attracts attention too, it's just an idea.👀

Ooh yes, Malena! I haven’t seen it but I did skim through it a while ago and from what I already saw, yeah, it’s pretty depressing. 😢 In the Godfather book, there’s a mention that in Sicily if a man went to flirt/touch/seduce another man’s wife, it would result in death if I remember correctly, sooo… 😳

She is Everything.

You, it was always you. You never cease to amaze Michael in any regard and the things Michael loves and admires about you only continues to grow years on into your marriage.

From your motherhood and giving birth to five children to your kind and compassionate teaching that’s only an extension of how you treat others around you to who you are as a person with all your skills, talents and intellect—Michael’s always known for you to be his one and only.

Just as Michael’s aware of your professional reputation, your career’s experience and your influence as Don Ferrari’s daughter all attracting attention, he’s also aware of your beauty doing the same.

Everything from your hair down to the shape of your cheekbones, jawline, your lips, your supple skin, height, figure and how you carry yourself radiates and intensifies your beauty.

Naturally, Michael wasn’t your only potential suitor in the past and curious eyes and gazes are impossible to be ignored every now and then as you’ve noted.

In Sicily, everything’s completely different. As an attractive young woman who carries herself well, you attract double the attention consistently than you have anywhere else.

Passerby’s let their gaze linger over your longer, heads will turn just to take another look at you from men and women alike, compliments from old women praising your beauty and shopkeepers mesmerized by you mid conversation were certainly not expected by neither you nor Michael.

Michael will never deny his wife is beautiful and a sight to behold; he knows this himself and firmly believes in it, and in the small town of Corleone where a new face appears only every now and then, there’s no helping the curiosity swarming around you.

You pretend for the vast majority of it that you don’t recognize the looks, stares or changes in body language towards the individuals you speak and engage with, although you do remain flattered.

It’s positive attention that doesn’t manifest towards anything else or come to bother you in any way, but it does spike up your shyness every now and again.

Michael sees it very differently, however. One may gaze and look upon you as long as they don’t follow you or make you uncomfortable in any way. The curiosity can’t be helped and neither can the attraction towards you, but everything else can.

At the end of the day for as far as Michael’s concerned, you’re his and he’s yours. The same can be said about Michael’s striking attractiveness as well, but he’s grown far more than accustomed to ignoring attention from any woman that isn’t you and Michael can’t possibly care less either.

Because of that, Michael prefers to be with you in the streets and marketplaces of Sicily to spend time with you and be by your side; holding your hand in public or keeping his hand wrapped around your waist. If the wedding band on your ring finger isn’t seen by those curious eyes, your husband will be.

“Oh, they’re right next to each other,” you let out a soft laugh, looking up to see the local herb store next to the fruit market. “How convenient.”

“Mhmm,” Michael nods—his hand laced with yours. “What are you missing?”

“Honestly, a little bit of everything,” you tell him. “I’ll buy the herbs by the bag and put them in containers at home for safekeeping so we don’t run out. Ooh, and darling,” you turn towards the fruit market, pointing at it. “Vincent and James absolutely adore peaches. Could you get some too with the rest of our list?”

“I’ll handle it, darling,” Michael nods. “I’ll be right there if you need me.”

“Okay, baby,” you blush, pecking a kiss over Michael’s cheek before letting go of his hand and stepping into the herb store.

From time to time since you landed in Sicily weeks back, you’ve been popping into local shops and stores every now and then to pick up groceries and deli meats—stocking up on herbs and various spices.

It’s not the first time you’ve been to this small herb shop, but that the fruit market has opened up stall right next to it which makes it all the more convenient for you and Michael to get your weekly grocery shopping done together.

As always, an elderly man who you assume owns the shop remains behind one of the tills—giving you a polite smile and working away on polishing the countertop whereas his younger grandson, Bruno—a man in his late twenties who assists him by weighing and packing all the herbs is to be seen there again.

“Hello, Miss Victoria,” Bruno greets you as always, unaware of your last name or any other details about you other than how often you come to shop, your first name and of course, what you look like.

“Hello,” you say back politely, slowly began to wander around the store and let your eyes search for packs of herbs neatly stored on shelves against the walls throughout the entire shop.

“It’s good to see you again,” Bruno carries on the conversation, smiling and stepping out from behind the till. “We missed you last week.”

“Did you?” You turn your head to face him, smiling. “I was on holiday in Rome with my family.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Bruno’s eyes light up. “How was your trip? I hope it went safe and well,”

“It did, thank you. It was lovely,” you attempt to focus on the bags of herbs before you rather than get too consumed in insistent small talk.

“There is a new glow about you, I could tell,” Bruno adds, admiring your figure from head to toe. “Relaxation and vacation is always good.”

You pick out a bag of paprika and dried basil, setting them down on the counter as Bruno quickly moves back to you, continuing to talk. “As I had once said, you’re our best customer. We’ll miss you if you leave Sicily. You know, I hear all the stories about America—” he begins to weigh the herbs. “The American Dream and everything in it, but this is also your home, yes?”

“It is,” you nod, putting a bag of rosemary on the counter too. “It always will be.”

“I wish you would stay longer,” Bruno says to you, causing your eyes to widen a little bit from his forward statement.

Even Bruno’s father momentarily looks up, feeling the secondhand embarrassment of his grandson attempting to pitifully flirt with you.

“Then you would have all the time to connect back with our homeland and roots. It would be good for you here in Corleone.”

“How do you know I’m from Corleone, exactly?” This sparks up your attention—as nothing’s been said about where in Sicily you’re from versus where you’re staying other than the United States.

Carrying a small bag filled with a variety of fresh fruit and extra peaches, Michael smoothens out the side of his hair before walking back to approach the herb shop and wait for you.

“I can tell,” Bruno takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Everything about you tells me your hometown is Corleone, like mine. I can tell from your Sicilian beauty.”

From where Michael stands, he can see clear through the window that you remain at the till with the bags of herbs that you’ve picked out but it’s Michael’s gaze instantly hardening at the sight of the merchant inching so close to you, let alone touching your hand that makes him approach.

“I’ve got a trained eye,” Bruno grins, “we see some many people everyday. Some tourists, some locals.”

“I see,” you pull your hand back, watching Bruno bag your herbs.

Michael pushes through the door of the herb shop, making eye contact with Bruno’s grandfather first who drops the cloth he was using in his hand to polish the counter in shock.

Bruno’s grandfather stares back at his grandson in worry in hopes he won’t attempt to flirt or embarrass himself further in front of your husband, but Bruno can’t even get his eyes off of you to look up and worry about Michael in the first place.

“Not many women as beautiful as you come by to—”

“Hi, darling,” you smile up at Michael who now remains by your side, cutting off anything further Bruno has to say with just one look.

“Just about finished?” Michael asks you in a calm voice, beginning to ignore Bruno.

“Just about,” you hand Bruno the exact amount of money in cash as Michael takes the herb bag off the counter.

“What’s your name?” Michael asks a dumbfounded Bruno.

“Bruno, sir,” Bruno stammers back.

“Is this your store?” Michael continues to ask, lacing his free hand with yours.

“Oh no, this shop belongs to my grandfather, I just help—” Bruno turns to look at his grandfather, only to notice he’s gone and in the back of the store already to refrain from further humiliation and fear. “I just help him out sometimes.”

“I see,” Michael ends it off at that, nodding at you as you both begin to exit the shop side by side.

Bruno frowns, watching Michael give your forehead a kiss before leading you out of the store and back out into the marketplace’s streets when Bruno’s grandfather bursts back into the front of the store from the back room.

“We’re dead!” Grandfather exclaims, “we’re dead! Do you know that?”

“What?” Bruno blinks, stepping forward. “Grandfather, calm down. What’s the matter with you?”

“Bruno, what did I tell you? What did I tell you?” Grandfather wails, resting his palm over his forehead. “You just couldn’t keep to yourself and keep your mouth shut, could you?”

“What? Oh, with her brother or her—”

“Brother?!” Grandfather cries out, “that is her husband! Do you not recognize him?”

Bruno freezes in his spot, thinking momentarily. “I… I don’t know. I’ve never seen him, I didn’t even know that was Miss Victoria’s husband, I just assumed—”

“Your assumptions will get you killed, boy!” Grandfather scolds, “that is Don Corleone’s wife! It is as clear as day! From America! And what do you do? Disgrace us all in front of him by touching his wife? Tell me, boy. Tell me you did not do it before, that you were mistaken—” Grandfather puts his hands over Bruno’s shoulders. “That you were just making silly, harmless conversation with this woman when I was not in shop! Tell me you wouldn’t do this!”

“Grandfather—” Bruno’s breath hitches, “I d-don’t know. I don’t know. She comes here sometimes, I see her, I try to talk to her—”

“No, you can never try to talk to her like that! You should lower your head in shame when you speak with the Don’s wife—with any woman,” Grandfather shakes his head. “So many come in here, so many bachelorettes your grandmother knows of in the villag and yet her? This woman above you and why?”

“Because she’s everything,” Bruno confesses, feeling his eyes prickle with tears. “Don’t you see her?”

“And you’re nothing,” Grandfather frowns, “nothing now like me. I am nothing. We are nothing, because the Don’s men will pay you a visit for what you’ve done.”

#godfather au #prompts #michael corleone #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone fanfic #michael corleone x oc #godfather x reader #the godfather #moth to flame fic #canon

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storyofmychoices · 11 months

Text

Shadows and Deception: Parts VII & VIII

[Series Masterlist] [My Choices Masterlists]

Books: The Royal Romance (post-TRF), Crimes of Passion I, Desire & Decorum, Blades of Light and Shadow I

Characters: Trystan Thorne (M, no race mentioned), Marguerite Thorne, Olivia Nevrakis, Queen Amalas, Maxwell Beaumont, Daniel, King Liam (no race mentioned), Tyril Starfury, Nia Ellarious, Prince Hamid

Pairings: Olivia Nevrakis x Queen Amalas ; M!Trystan Thorne x (no gender given) MC (mentioned) ; King Liam x Riley (mentioned)

Rating/Warnings: Teen, mentions of blood, stab wound, knives/daggers (no graphic descriptions)

Word Count: Part VII: ~400; Part VI: ~1,500 : total ~1,900

Summary: Olivia makes it her mission to figure out who is trying to frame her and why, but what she finds isn't what she ever expected.

Catch Up: [Parts I and II] [Parts III and IV] [Parts V and VI]

These are the last two sections of the story. You should only read the "reveal" if you're caught up! I hope you enjoy the ending of this little mystery.

VII. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. (Sherlock Holmes)

Despite the evidence against Olivia, the King released her from custody, trusting his friend would not be so careless as to leave her own knife lying around as evidence of her wrongdoing.

Adrenaline filled Olivia as she returned to the ballroom, her mind racing with theories and suspicions. Stares fell upon her, filled with curiosity and uncertainty, yet she wouldn’t let them deter her from finding answers for herself.

Ever the stealthy observer, she listened discreetly to hushed conversations, her keen ears capturing every piece of information that floated in the air. Some clues she already knew, like the red hair and her dagger, but others were new and intriguing, like whispers of coded letters and sightings of a cloaked female figure.

Amalas slipped through the crowd with ease, making no waves as she passed, her focus entirely on her Duchess. "I see you've managed to evade their grasp," she teased, her voice filled with amusement.

Olivia's lips curled into a mischievous grin. "You know me, always one step ahead."

Amalas leaned in, her voice low and intimate. "It's good to see you enjoying yourself," she whispered, her fingers lightly caressing Olivia's cheek.

A flicker of amusement danced in Olivia's eyes. "I must confess this party has become far more interesting than I expected. The year has been too quiet. I've missed the exhilaration of murder, treason, and deception that have come to be a staple of these gatherings."

"Why am I not surprised?" Amalas chuckled softly in admiration. She leaned in closer, brushing a kiss on Olivia's jaw as she whispered, "Perhaps we can make this night even more memorable." Her hand slid down Olivia's form, settling on her thigh as her teeth grazed the tender skin beneath her ear. "What do you say?"

As Amalas's words hung in the air, Olivia's thoughts were momentarily distracted by the events of the evening. Her calculating gaze shifted between Nia and Marguerite, contemplating their possible involvement. While pointing the finger at both was easy, she couldn't reconcile how either could have lifted her dagger without her notice. Nia wouldn't stand a chance even with magic, and while clever and cunning, Marguerite couldn't best Olivia. There was only one who stood a chance at that—

Olivia's gaze fell to her thigh, where Amalas's hand had been resting naturally above her collection of ornate daggers, Olivia not even giving it consideration until now.

VIII. It is not the past that matters, but the future. (Poirot)

As realization flashed across Olivia's face, Amalas knew it was time. The ruse was over. She swiftly withdrew her hand, but not quick enough to evade Olivia's hawk-like precision as another dagger found its place against Amalas's neck.

The Spy Queen smiled in amusement at Olivia's discovery. "I knew you'd figure it out. Only you could."

"Why?" Olivia questioned, her voice filled with both curiosity and vengeance.

Amalas's fingers reached into her purse, her movements deliberate. "To keep you distracted so you wouldn’t figure out what comes next," she explained, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "And, I know you appreciate a good murder."

The tension in the room grew palpable as Olivia processed Amalas's words. Her dagger trained against the Queen's neck never wavered. "You killed Daniel? Why?"

"Oh, no." Amalas shook her head lightly. Her gaze drifted to the back of the ballroom, where she discreetly signaled someone. "You can call it a charade."

Confusion washed over Olivia as Maxwell called out to her, his expression filled with pride and excitement.

He waved and smiled, his double thumbs-up a triumphant gesture. Standing beside him, far more alive than the last time she had seen him was Daniel. "I told Amalas I could trick you," Maxwell announced, pumping his fist in the air and dancing to celebrate his win.

"I had my reservations about his involvement, but he was very excited… and quite persistent, so I let him assist in my plot," she insisted.

Olivia's mind raced as she pieced together the puzzle before her. How could they make a fool of her? And who else was in on this ruse? Not the guard; they were too inept to even handle a fake murder.

Clues and revelations swirled in her thoughts, forming a coherent picture of the events that had unfolded. The tense exchange between Maxwell and Daniel in an area sure to be overheard was the opening act, setting the stage for deception. Her mind flashed back to a particularly heated moment between her and Amala in the hall outside the ballroom just before the start of the event, their passionate embrace enough of a distraction for Amalas to lift her dagger without her questioning the placement of her hand.

Her eyes widened as she continued to connect the dots: an evident stab wound and a pool of blood, but neither could explain his apparent lifeless form. And then it hit her—the syringe. It must have contained a substance to slow Daniel's heart and breathing, making him appear dead at first glance. But the blood—it still didn't make sense. She knew real blood when she saw it!

Her jaw dropped slightly, her gaze settling on a certain Lord still celebrating his victory—Maxwell! She remembered an earlier quip she had directed his way, ‘I didn't know you were auditioning for the next Twilight movie. You've nailed the pale aesthetic. I'm sure you'd enjoy the glitter, but I don't think vampires dance.’ She shook her head remembering the interaction; there was a bandage on his arm. If it wasn't for her absolute fury at his participation in this deception, she would almost be impressed at his dedication to the game. Giving his own blood showed real commitment. Olivia's mind spun with the intricacies of the scheme, leaving her reeling as she processed the depths of deception that had taken place right under her nose.

Olivia took a step toward Maxwell, vengeance filling her gaze. "That was your blood?" she questioned, her voice dripping with accusation.

"Yup," he announced proudly, relishing in his deceit.

She tightened her grip on her dagger, a scowl filling her face. "Since you're in such a giving mood, perhaps you'd like to donate more?"

"If looks could kill—" he jested, a hint of hesitation creeping into his body as he took a step backward.

"Oh, I promise it's more than looks," she sneered in amusement.

"Time to go, Max," Daniel intervened, pulling his friend's arm.

"She wouldn't…" Max offered, analyzing her face with a mix of uncertainty and concern. "...would she?"

"Let's find out," Olivia teased, her eyes fixed on him as she stalked forward. Much of the ballroom that had been listening in turned away themselves, hoping to avoid the Duchess's wrath.

"Yup, okay, time to go!" Maxwell conceded.

She would deal with him later, but for now, there was a much worse betrayal to confront.

Her gaze flickered back to Amalas's hand, still concealed in her purse. "What else are you hiding?"

"The reason for all of this." She took a step closer to Olivia, despite her raised weapon. "You have captured my heart in ways I never considered possible. I can't imagine a path without you by my side. No secret or knowledge is as important and valuable to me as you." Amalas's usual confident voice faltered with a hint of nervousness. "Olivia Nevrakis, will you marry me?"

A storm of conflicting emotions washed over Olivia as she locked eyes with Amalas, her mind still reeling from the revelations of the night. The chaos and deception had led them to this pivotal moment.

Sensing her hesitance, Amalas continued, "I couldn't have you figure out my intentions, so I needed you distracted. You're too clever for your own good, my love."

"You never cease to amaze me," Olivia marveled at how Amalas was able to orchestrate the night's events, leading here with her none the wiser. Olivia's gaze narrowed on hers. "I could have killed you."

"I would have loved to see you try." Amalas nodded to the knife still in her hand. "You're welcome to make the first move... unless you prefer to wait until we're behind closed doors."

"This is the weirdest proposal I've ever seen," Trystan whispered to Marguerite, unable to turn away.

"Don't get any ideas," his sister replied. "Rose won't find you as amusing."

"Are you sure?" His charming grin filled his face.

"Yes," she nodded firmly.

"But—"

"No."

"It could be fun."

"It could lead to another international incident!" Marguerite reminded him.

"What would life be without a headline or two?"

"You're lucky I like you!"

"You love me!" Trystan wrapped his arm around his baby sister, his attention turning back to the happy couple, who were now settled in a passionate embrace, the ring happily settled on Olivia's finger.

"You'll come up with something entirely your own," Marguerite decided, her head tipping to the side in consideration. "Unless of course… Rose proposes first."

The proposal. His mouth opened as realization set in. His face contorted in dismay. “Wait, so the key, the locker, the notes, my whole investigation was for nothing?"

"Perhaps they deemed you a worthy adversary, one who might've detected the deception too soon, and so they gave you your own little distraction."

Trystan let out a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe I’ve been played,” his chagrin evident in his tone. "I was a pawn? I'm at least a knight," he sulked.

Marguerite smiled at his disappointment. “It seems your detective skills failed to notice the biggest mystery of all—love.”

After a moment of feeling sorry for himself, he straightened his jacket. “Well, at least, I wasn’t alone. No one else figured it out either.”

“That’s not quite true,” Marguerite teased, a satisfied smirk filling her face.

“You did not see this coming!” He vehemently protested.

“I had my suspicions that more was at play than met the eye,” she reported. “Amalas seemed distracted, her focus on Olivia, even though there was no way Olivia would be so sloppy or that Amalas would suspect her. Then, there was her clutch; she kept it close like it held all her most precious secrets.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, there was that look too—”

“What look?”

“The one you wear so well—” she began, her voice filled with awe. “The pure admiration and adoration for the one you love and couldn’t spend a day without.” She pressed a kiss on his cheek, her words quieting. “It’s how I know your appreciation of this proposal isn't just in good fun and how I know you already have a ring of your own waiting for the perfect moment.”

Before Trystan could respond, Marguerite slipped off into the once more lively crowd. She checked the time on her phone and headed to meet her contact with whom she'd exchange the flash drive she'd been concealing for secrets in an entirely different matter with everyone none the wiser.

The ballroom buzzed with a combination of awe, amusement, and adoration as the guests realized they had been unwitting participants in a grand charade leading into a moment they would never forget, the engagement of The Duchess of Lythikos and The Queen of Monterisso—a union that promised to be an adventure that surpassed even the captivating events of this extraordinary evening.

The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death. (Oscar Wilde)

Hi! If you made it this far, thank you so so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this mystery and the twist ending. I know not everyone likes twists, but I hope I did this one justice. This was not the ending I had intended but as I happened to write it, I couldn't see it ending any other way. Olivia deserves someone who would go to the ends of the earth for her and isn't afraid to push her. I hope I did her and Amalas justice... especially since I've never actually met Amalas in canon... This fic was never supposed to be this TRR series heavy but here we are.... I hope I did everyone justice.

I do feel for Maxwell, while Olivia can forgive Amalas, she might take some pent up frustration out on him in the near future. He better watch out!

Thank you again for reading and supporting this story. ❤️❤️❤️

Giveaway Information: complete details here

3 winners will be chose for minimalist portraits with @bayleedrawsx

Any one who comments on or reblogs with a comment with their theories, thoughts, ideas, ect. on any and all sections of the story will be entered in the giveaway. (1 entry per section)

Prompts: For @choicesbookclub COP ; @choicesmonthlychallenge Private Investigator Event

Special thanks: to JenBeaumontJones (IG) for beta reading

#playchoices #choices game #the royal romance #blades of light and shadow #crimes of passion #desire & decorum #choices fan fiction #tyril starfury #trystan thorne #marguerite thorne #nia ellarious #maxwell beaumont #olivia nevrakis #queen amalas #prince hamid #lovealexhunt #choices book club

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ipsen · 6 months

Text

Off the Grid

For @chertpole for the @tgpairup event! I gave them some AriEto to chew on, and you can too! Enjoy the meal :]

Eto had never been one for nostalgia.

She had always been too busy, too focused on other things to look backwards. The past was a place of pain, of longing, and of what would never be again. It was not a source of strength, but evidence of weakness. Only by looking forward could she grab an inkling of the strength she sought.

And yet, the moment her feet touched mainland Tokyo, she went here: the old shrine where it all began.

It had long since fallen into disrepair; it was on no map in the first place, and no one who knew about it bothered to tell. She remembered being attracted to it for that very reason. After all, she was similarly discarded. With her mother dead, her father had seen fit to discard the very thing that reminded him of his failure, and a tool was no longer necessary when everything was fixed. In occupying it as a fellow forgotten one, they would remember each other.

It was stupid, really; places never remembered the people that trampled upon it, but foolish girls were wont to dream.

Eto traced the branch of one of the trees, which had grown tall and strong these past thirteen years. Its trunk was thick and sturdy, and it towered above her, when before it was but a mere sapling, under threat of being crushed on a whim. Not only that, but its roots had finally broken the stone before the shrine, the spot where her world finally began to turn.

Time really did fly; being here now, she almost remembered the scene like it was yesterday. Her, missing an arm and collapsed in a heap within her kakuja. The shrine, broken from the weight. And then, suddenly—

“You’re here.”

Eto looked up and, upon seeing who it was, smirked. There was only one person who could sneak up on her like that, and as the years went by, she minded it less and less.

Seeing him here, it almost made her think the past had caught up to her, but she knew that wasn’t true. There were little differences to this new old meeting that made it so. Stark white hair instead of a nightshade blue. Her own hair, grown into a wild mane. An eye that couldn’t see anything anymore, and hers that had to squint when reading text on a book.

“Kishou Arima,” she said with a mirthless giggle. “Come to bask in your glory days?”

“No,” he said simply, as flat as ever. “I was just on my way to the 23rd.”

It was a little frustrating, to be honest, how little she could get out of him, but at the same time, that veil— or rather, that wall— was a comfort. The idea that there would always be something she could never truly understand, that there would always be something more to discover— It kept her going on some days. It meant she could keep digging, keep searching, keep fighting, and there would still be more. The Sysyphian assurance of an expected, if infinite, battle.

“And you?” Arima brought Eto out of her thoughts. “Why?”

The nostalgic question made her scoff. There were many people who asked similar things, but he was the only one she answered. “You’re asking that now? Are you truly so—”

“I am,” he interrupted. “Why?”

His gaze was unwavering, but a trick of the light made her think that there was a twinkle to them. Maybe, deep down in his empty void for a soul, he was actually amused. She chuckled at the prospect, then decided to indulge it. “I’ve just come back from Rushima, and I got a call that my editor is being ‘interrogated’.”

“By who?”

“You know who.” She didn’t have to say the name. “He had that look, you know. Almost reminded me of you.”

Arima paused. “He’s begun reading your work again. They remind him of himself, it seems.”

“So I noticed. And you? What do you think of them?”

He shrugged. “They’re wordy.”

She rolled her eyes at that. He never was one to talk at length, even about books, which he supposedly liked. Even now, where the end for them was in sight, he did not waver in this.

“Anyway,” she shrugged, “cutting through here is faster to get to where he is.”

It was a lie, just like Arima’s reason. This place was far too out of the way to justify coming here, regardless of destination; that was why Eto had chosen it in the first place. However, neither of them called the other out; they knew without saying.

“You’ve made your decision, then?” she asked, as if she even needed to.

He nodded. “The raid’s set to happen soon, and Squad 0 will be guarding Cochlea.”

“I feel safer already.” She smiled, but it faded soon enough. “It will be difficult for him.”

“He’ll succeed,” Arima said, and he almost sounded reassuring. “I’ll make him.”

“So you will.” A chuckle. “You always were one to force things.”

“Better than never letting things happen at all.”

“Hmph.”

Forcing things— that was the way of the One-Eyed King. Forcing his way to the top, clambering over the corpses, and creating a living legend that ghouls all over Tokyo despaired over. To supplement it, Eto became the Owl, his shadow, to give humans a reason to cling to him and justify their needless killing. She ate and ate and ate, taking the corpses and creating a shawl with which to conceal herself.

However, the thing about despair was that hope could just as easily be born from it. Were someone to topple that legend and create something new of it, ghouls would suddenly have a shining beacon of hope to look toward, and they would finally be willing to fight for their existence, finally be willing to live and not just survive. Not only that, but the humans who killed ghouls would finally be forced to turn inward and face the truth of the matter: they were played for fools.

But the thing about toppling such a legend was that it required a sacrifice. One unique sacrifice, and that, in and of itself, almost made it precious.

Eto stared at the coveted object as he turned on his heel and walked away. The way he still refused to really and truly look at her, even after thirteen long years, told her that there was still something he wasn’t telling her, but she couldn’t tell what.

It didn’t matter, of course; things were only ever going to end this way. The two of them were only cracks in the shell, crumbling in on themselves so that the real king could crawl out to the other side. Neither of them were strong enough on their own, nor did they have the tools or background to see it through themselves.

Still, they would try, and someone else, someone better, that made up the best parts of them, could do it when they couldn’t. They could find someone like that, surely, and they had. A miracle, not lying on cold concrete, but shining and flying through the sky. As his predecessors fell into the abyss and closed their eyes to that sparkling beacon, they would go satisfied, knowing it wasn’t all for nothing.

Despite that, though, as Eto watched Arima, she wondered if things could be different. If he could find— or rather, if he could see a way where he didn’t choose death over the world. Where he survived, and continued the fight. Would that result in a better outcome? If the Reaper turned his blade on the strings keeping him down instead of going limp in their grasp, could things change?

… No. No, they couldn’t; he had come too far down his bloody path to try and pave a new one. Much like her, a bloody cannibal who couldn’t find the bottom of her own stomach, he had piled up a tower of corpses far too high to topple it over now. They were monsters, simple as that. They, who took lives on a whim, were not worthy of seeing the new world, nor should they be allowed to fight any longer than they had to. Death was just as much a part of life as living was, and so they would entrust their legacy to their successor— their better.

Their king.

Still, if death was to be their fate, she wanted to try something out. She wanted to leave nothing unsaid, and as much as she hated to admit it, this was one of them. With a step and a call, she spoke a single word:

“Kishou.”

He paused halfway down the road. She waited for a reaction, for anything, really. She didn’t fully understand why she wanted to say what she said; she just knew she had to say it before the coming end. It felt strange saying it, but it had to be said.

Perhaps a part of her wished for him to turn around, and in doing so, change his mind. Change his path. Because if he could, so could she. In saying his name, she was positing a question: could they defy the death that would inevitably catch up to them? Was there a world where miscreants like them could exist together?

A gust of wind blew through the area, and leftover dew on the tree leaves, like blood, slipped off and hit the ground. Eto stared at the white back of his coat as she waited. Always, she waited.

It felt a little ridiculous. What exactly was she waiting for, anyway? It wasn’t like changing what she called him would cause him to turn around and— and what? Smile at her? Touch her? Kiss her?

She frowned. That sort of thing wasn’t possible for people like them. They shouldn’t— they couldn’t seek something like that. There were always bigger, more important things than trash like them.

Eto wet her lips in the silence.

She wanted him to turn around. So, so badly. She wanted him to turn around and run back to her, enthusiasm, anticipation, and joy springing him forth instead of emptiness, anger, and despair. She wanted him to gather her into his arms and hold her like she was the world, like she was the only thing that mattered. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, desperate and longing for the touch of someone who knew his greatest secret, from someone he had bared his heart to, even if only slightly.

She could be that person. She could touch him like he wanted to, and he could do the same to her. They would fit quite well together, she imagined, like pieces of a broken puzzle. Two terrible souls who, at the bottom of the barrel, had found each other. It could work, if she were more delusional and presumptuous than she was.

Fortunately, her feet did not obey her misguided and silent desire; they stayed planted, waiting as they always did. Arima also seemed to remember himself, and continued walking as though she hadn’t said anything at all. All began to fit itself back together. He walked, she watched, until she was alone again.

With a practiced sigh, she shrugged off the heartache.

#tg #tokyo ghoul #eto yoshimura #kishou arima #arieto #tgpairup23

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 10 months

Note

Hello M! Requesting Fingolfin x reader with the prompt horseback riding please! Fluff and sfw thanks!

I hope you like this!

“Through starlit fields”

Pairing: Fingolfin x Reader (elf/second person POV) | Location: Fields just outside Tirion upon Túna

Themes: Soft / SFW

Warnings: None

Word count: 400 - 500 words

Summary: Fingolfin agrees to ride up to a little hill believed to be the home of sprites.

A/n: Inspiration for sprites- The book of lost tales.

As the stars burned brightly in the sky, Fingolfin rode on, certain that you were beside him. There was nothing to be heard but the soft sigh of high grasses swaying in the wind and the murmur of a stream nearby. Winding paths and verdant fields filled with flowers—their pale faces limned with starlight—lay all around.

Fingolfin took a deep breath of clean, sweet-smelling air and declared, "Glorious, is it not?"

He peered over his shoulder when you did not reply and found you far behind him, beside a grove full of little trees and new blooms. Fingolfin turned his steed around and rode to you, his curiosity piquing when you dismounted and strode towards the trees.

"Y/n," he calls softly. "We must not tarry. My lord father expects us both to attend the feast."

Fingolfin gave you a measured look upon dismounting, thinking it best to refuse. He had offered to take you horseback riding through the beautiful starlit fields just beyond the borders of Tirion, but it had to come to an end. The appointed hour for the feast his father had planned to celebrate Finarfin taking Eärwen to wife was almost at hand, and neither of you could delay.

"I know. But look!" You cry and point towards a grassy knoll in the distance. "I hear the sprites of woods and trees dwell there. May we go there? Please?"

"We can always come back after the feast is over," he replied, not unkindly.

Your plea may have been brief, but it was potent enough to sway him.

"I know, but it would not feel the same," you implore with soft, entreating eyes. "Only for a little while. Just this once. Please."

"Of course," you answer gratefully. "And thank you."

"I could never deny you." Fingolfin laughed indulgently and mounted his horse in one smooth movement, one that you hoped to master someday. He waited for you to do the same. "Very well. Lead on!"

The horses trotted slowly over a winding path that had aged with time. Roots and vines and wildflowers had pushed through the stone, and other parts had fallen through. Fingolfin kept a steady hand on the reins of your horse, for you were but a novice still.

"There." Fingolfin slowed the horses until they stopped at the foot of the knoll and whispered. "Over there. Do you see that?"

Tiny orbs of gold and yellow light danced on branches and hovered over leaves, and the sounds they made were barely louder than a gentle murmur.

Your eyes grow wide with awe. The sprites flitted from leaf to leaf, their light sparkling like the light of the stars, and sang and called out to each other, paying no mind to the elves that stood not far from their home. And you did not go further, content to stay and watch and listen. Fingolfin turned to you, and his gaze softened even more when he found you enraptured by the sight before your eyes.

"We can stay here a little longer," he decides after a moment of silent reflection. "And then we must leave."

#fingolfin #fingolfin x reader #fingolfin imagine #x reader #reader insert #sons of finwe #the silm #the silm x reader #the silm imagine

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wasjustred · 1 year

Text

See Me After Class (Excerpt)

Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x femprof!Reader

Warnings: Approaching smut territory but stops just before it gets explicit ;-) sowwy

Word Count: ~1k (unfinished, final total TBD)

Author’s Note: Wanted to post this excerpt from a one-shot I’m working on just to get a feel for the readership... Hopefully I’m on the right track. Let me know if you wanna see more ♡

Update: You can read the final version here!

“You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.”

You allow the air to settle before prodding your students, perched comfortably against the front edge of your desk. “Someone explain for us what Lord Henry meant by this.” The usual array of hands shoot up, eager and willing as they are, swaying discreetly in anticipation of being called upon. It’s everything you had hoped for before starting this job; you spent weeks prepping lesson plans and brushing up on Outcast literature before your official interview had even been scheduled, losing sleep and your appetite equally over the thought that you might not secure the position, and almost more so that if you did, the students wouldn’t take to you. But this sight… it is as reaffirming as any.

With a modest hope of hearing from someone new, your eyes roam the rows and columns of seated students. But it’s an unexpected figure who draws your attention to the far back:

“Headmistress Weems.. Please, indulge us.” You gesture widely with an open palm.

Your nonchalance frankly betrays the anxiety her presence brings. Another observation so soon after the first? And so early in the term? You have to wonder if one of your students has complained, or perhaps another professor. Were you doing a bad job? Were your lessons subpar?

It’s clear, though, that despite her authority Weems is embarrassed to have been caught, even more so to have been called out on it so unceremoniously. Perhaps you’re not as powerless here as you thought …

The blonde pulls back her shoulders and levels her gaze on you. “Well. It has been a minute, but if I’m not mistaken, I do believe Lord Henry was referring to Dorian’s seemingly virtuous nature. By all accounts, we desire and are captivated by the things we refuse ourselves.” She continues, arching a brow, “I believe Lord Henry also said that ‘the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself’. It is both a warning and a call to pleasure.”

Any surprise you might have felt at Larissa’s adeptness, any residual apprehension at her presence, is easily overpowered by the sudden and shameless wave of heat that comes to rest between your thighs. She must notice as she grins wickedly at your attempt to play it off, crossing one ankle over the other and lowering the open book in front of your lap.

“Very good. I’m glad to see your Nevermore education paid off.” Sparse chuckles crop up from your students as the final bell announces the official end of the school day. They waste no time in rushing past each other towards the door, and you’re glumly aware that your calls to read the next two chapters for class tomorrow fall on deaf ears.

“I didn’t realize Mr. Wilde was still part of the curriculum.” Larissa follows the steps down past your students’ desks and comes to rest in front of you, hands clasped behind her.

“And yet you’ve proven yourself to be a remarkably apt student. Impressive.” Your eyes twinkle. The degree at which you have to tilt your head back is not an unpleasant one, stretching muscles that had already been whining after the hour-long class session. You break eye contact briefly to reach behind you and toss the worn copy of today’s topic on your desk, and in that short timespan Larissa evidently decides to test your professional resolve.

“Remarkable students are rewarded for their diligence, are they not?” You swivel back to her, brows raised.

… intriguing. Hot, even, you have to admit.

“Was it diligence, or pure luck?” Larissa scrunches her nose at this response, clearly - amusingly - displeased.

“I’ll have you know I’ve been reading at the pace of your lesson plans.”

“So you did know Mr. Wilde was ‘still part of the curriculum’?”

“... I don’t appreciate your tone, Ms. L/N.” Larissa looms over you, forcing you back against the edge of your desk. Your hands instinctively shoot out behind you, white-knuckling the oak in an attempt to keep yourself steady (both mentally and physically). Your brain rapidly ricochets between processing how little space remains between the two of you and the fact that the school’s principal, your boss, Larissa, has taken to following your lessons plans of her own volition.

“All due respect, you do pay me to read between the lines, Headmistress Weems,” you respond. She seems pleased with this, a puff of warm air landing against your lips as she chuckles. Your fingers twitch against your desk. If you stretched them out, there’s a chance you’d reach her, brushing against the clothed expanse of her thigh.

“You have a very interesting understanding of what you’ve been hired to do here.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.” Larissa closes the leftover distance, reaching long fingers up to grasp the tip of your chin. It feels like whatever air you can get here, eye-level with her chest, is trapped in your lungs. “.. look at me, darling.”

It takes everything within you not to moan once you meet her gaze and realize she looks absolutely ravenous: pupils blown, tongue running slowly along the length of her bottom lip as she watches you. Chest rising and falling in time with her rapid heartbeat.

“Oh.”

Your lips meet in a hot, desperate clash of tongue and teeth, no indication as to who moved first. You grasp wildly at her forearms, shoulders, neck - any stretch of skin you can dig your fingertips into, pushing yourself up as tall as you can to reach further into her. A phone rings somewhere off to your left and you grunt, shoving the contents of your desk off to the side in a clatter. Larissa laughs.

“Eager, are we?” Before you can form a coherent response she’s making a grab for your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the top of the desk and parting your legs as she comes to stand between them.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems imagine #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems imagine #larissa weems x female reader #larissa weems x f!reader #larissa weems x you

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baeshijima · 1 year

Note

GOOD MORNING SOPHIE TODAY I COME BEARING GIFTS

SPECIFICALLY ALHAITHAM AND THIS DYNAMIC

THIS COULD GO SO MANY WAYS BUT YES ANYWAY ENJOY?1?!?¿??¿??¿?

have a fantastic day! 🫶

~ ness ♡

GM NES (we ignore the late reply... aha...)😌🫶

yES !!! YES YES YES YES YES YEBSKAHDFG,SSF [insert all my screeching insanity memes bc im on pc and dont have them here]

NO BC??? imagine this is like.. childhood friends (kinda) to lovers trope, where alhaitham, being the recluse he is, always preferred to stay at the back and keep to himself.

and during one of his afternoons in the library there was a new pair of feet in his peripherals though your face (one he vaguely recognises from the few times he attended classes) soon comes into sight, an excitable tone bleeding through your words upon seeing the book in his possession.

in all honesty, alhaitham wanted nothing more than to shoo you away or simply up and leave himself. when he tried, he found himself grounded to his seat and staring at your starry eyes and wide smile at the thought of "someone else reads this too?? when you're done can we talk about it and exchange recommendations?!"

truthfully, he only picked this book up on a whim after having read everything else in his possession. and so when he shifts his gaze away and dismisses you, you only deflate a little (and no his stupid heart did not ache at your sad expression) before trudging away.

perhaps he would have been happier if it just ended like that. well, that's what he tells himself, so why is he now looming over your seated form after class (which he definitely did not just stay in for you) with the book in his hand and a plethora of thoughts on it to share with you? there's a wave of embarrassment rushing over him when you regard him with curious perplexity, and he has half a mind to scoff and walk away, but when he sees the heart-thundering smile you produce at his words, he thinks it's okay to indulge you for a little.

(a little turns into weeks, months, years. he may have hated you back in the day for this incorrigible ache you spurred within him, but was he any better with the way he trailed after you just to have your attention on him for a little longer?)

#omg a convo !?#sophie talks : concepts #gn i need to stop writing fics this way bc now the idea wont leave and hHHHJGJHSAGFLA

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me-myself-and-my-fos · 5 months

Text

Life Goes On Without Us

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x @canongf

A/N: Merry Christmas!! I hope you enjoy this fic, Liv!! I’ve had this au idea for a while.

Warning: ANGST

Bucky stood on the porch of the brownstone, hands in his pockets as he stared at the front door. His stomach was in knots, heart in his throat, and mind somewhere far, far away. When Steve told him before he went back under in Wakanda, before everything went to hell and he missed an entire five years, Bucky didn’t know if he wanted to cry or get sick, or both. He knew he missed nearly 80 years of history, an 80 years he could’ve spent living his life. But to find out how much of the world moved on without him was jarring. It felt like a rug was swept from under him, and in all honesty Bucky didn’t want to get back up.

Looking over his shoulder, Steve leaned against the parked car, watching intently as he waited for Bucky to make a move. Instead the super soldier nodded towards the door, giving Bucky silent encouragement to knock. A small groan ripped from his throat as he faced the door and lifted a hand. His fist shook and it took another moment before he knocked. It wasn’t too loud, he didn’t want to scare the people living inside. But it wasn’t light enough that it would force Steve up the stairs and make him do it again. As he waited for someone to answer the door Bucky looked back down to Steve who slowly made his way towards the steps.

“Maybe no one’s home.” Bucky shrugged.

“There’s always someone home with him,” Steve told Bucky.

There was movement on the other side of the door before the lock clicked. The door opened with a squeak, the person on the other side speaking in a thick accent that all Brooklyn natives had.

“Can I help you–” His voice cut off at the sight of Bucky.

The person on the other side had wavy, graying auburn hair and piercing brown eyes, and he was dressed in a mechanic’s jumpsuit. The name ‘James’ was embroidered on the patch. Bucky shifted a little under James’s uncomfortably long gaze and was unsure what to say.

“Hey, James. Is your dad home?” Steve asked, breaking the silence.

James blinked, running a hand over his hair before nodding. Eyes were still trained on Bucky as he spoke. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s in the sittin’ room. Come on in.” He pushed over the screen door and let Steve and Bucky into the house.

Upon entering the threshold they smelt the scent of fresh blueberry pie coming from the kitchen in the back. But in the main room was a large plush couch against the far right wall and several sitting chairs facing it, surrounding a coffee table covered in magazines, newspapers, and crossword puzzle books. Sitting on the couch underneath an old, worn, gray and green blanket with holes patched with various colored thread was an old man. His face was wrinkled and hair white, mostly gone, and a set of large glasses sitting on his nose. He was thin, thinner than the last time Steve had seen him. And the moment Bucky’s eyes laid on the old man he knew who this was and who the man reminded him of.

“Dad, you got visitors,” James announced, voice raised as he closed the door.

The old man looked up curiously, surprised at the news of visitors. But his back straightened when he saw Steve, and ignored the watering of his eyes as he saw Bucky. The old man saluted the pair.

“Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes.” He nodded.

Steve smiled and amused him with a more casual salute. “Colonel Barnes.” Bucky nodded awkwardly. The old man relaxed and leaned back into the plush pillows. “It’s good to see you, Richard.”

Richard gave him a smile. “Always an honor, Captain. Wilma is in the kitchen making some lemonade if you gentlemen want a glass.”

“I’ll get some for them, Dad, don’t worry,” James assured before heading into the kitchen. “Make yourselves at home!” He called out to Bucky and Steve.

Steve didn’t hesitate to take a chair across from Richard, but Bucky stood for a bit longer before taking a seat at the other end of the couch.

“How have you been, Richard?” Steve prompted.

“I’ve been fine,” Richard began, removing his glasses to clean them with the end of the blanket. “Damn cold weather’s been hard on my bones. Old war injuries acting up again,” he explained, putting the glasses back on. “Oh, and Alexander got accepted to Oxford. He started this past August.”

“That’s amazing. He’s a bright kid so I know he’ll do great,” Steve said as James came back into the room with a tray of three drinking glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.

“Who’s Alexander?” Bucky questioned hesitantly.

Richard looked at him. “Your great-grandson.” Bucky shifted uncomfortably as Richard’s attention shifted back to his son. “Jimmy, can you get the box from under my bed and bring it down here?”

“Sure thing, Dad.” James headed up the stairs and Richard looked at Bucky again.

“I thought I’d have to die before I could meet you,” Richard said bluntly as Steve poured three glasses of lemonade.

“If I had known about you sooner I would’ve come by, but Steve only told me recently,” Bucky told him.

Richard shook his head. “He likes to do that; keep secrets before getting the– the balls to tell us.”

Bucky was silent for a moment before asking the one he didn’t want to. But he needed to know. “When did she pass?”

Humming, Richard fiddled with the blanket. “A little over twenty years ago. It broke my heart to bury mom. She– She passed the day after your birthday,” he explained to Bucky, his voice quivering. “I visited her and told her it was okay, she could go. But she had told me ‘Richie, I want to tell your father happy birthday one last time.’ And the next day the nurse called and said she had– she–” He struggled to find the words, and Steve lowered his head. Bucky reached over and put a gentle hand on Richard’s shoulder. Richard took a deep breath and placed his hand over Bucky’s. “She loved you until her last breath.”

“Alright, Dad, I got the box,” James said, coming down the stairs. He walked over to where his father sat and gently rested the box in his lap, lifting the lid and setting it to the side.

“I got it, I got it.” Richard waved him off. “I’m not some frail old man.” He reached into the box and pulled out an old photo album, dark navy with gold lettering faded and material peeling at the corners. Opening it revealed pages and pages of pictures, some black and white others in color. Mostly Polaroids. Richard pointed to the first picture on the first page that showed a very familiar woman to Bucky holding a tiny baby. “After I was born we moved to New York. Mom wanted me close to family.”

“I can’t imagine it was easy for her,” Bucky thought out loud.

“It wasn’t.” Richard shook his head. “But we got by, especially with help. The Howling Commandos weren’t the best babysitters, but they kept me entertained when Mom was working.” He flipped a few pages and pointed to a photo that had ‘Richie’s fifth birthday’ scribbled above it in Liv’s handwriting. “She liked taking me to Coney Island. I loved the coasters.”

“Yeah?” Bucky perked up a bit, smiling. “Me too.”

Richard gave him a mischievous grin, or at least as much as he could muster. “A few times my friends and I would ditch school during lunch and go down to ride them. I got in trouble for that a lot. Mom wanted me to– to focus on my education. But I could ride those coasters from sunup to sun down.”

“Those were the days,” Bucky reminisced. “Steve and I got a few stories from going there. Don’t we Steve?” Bucky grinned at his best friend and Steve let out a breath, shaking his head.

“Don’t remind me,” Steve groaned.

“Um, can I…” Bucky gestured to the photo album and Richard nodded, trying to lift it.

“Of course. Of course.”

Bucky took it and set it on his lap. He flipped through the pages in amazement and sadness of the family he didn’t get to be a part of. Richard pointed at various photos, explaining the stories behind them along with other memories he had.

“And that photo was taken the day I enlisted,” Richard explained. “The day after my birthday. I didn’t tell Mom.”

“Who’s that?” Bucky wondered, pointing to the last photo on the page. It was a young Richard next to a beautiful woman.

“Eliza LeBeau.” Richard smiled softly, a twinkle in his eyes. “My wife. Loved her with all my heart. She passed a few years ago.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You would’ve loved her. Mom did. Eliza was the daughter mom never had.”

“Do you think I’d be able to borrow this? To look at?” Bucky gestured to the photo album.

Richard nodded as he rummaged through the box. “As long as you bring it back.”

He pulled various things from the box to show his father. Metals from his time in the service, other loose photos, various trinkets from his youth and adulthood. Richard was enjoying his trip down memory lane, and Steve noticed how Bucky couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Richard. His son.

“I just remembered,” Richard grumbled, pushing himself off the couch slowly. Bucky placed the album on the coffee table and jumped to his feet, helping Richard stand. “I have something for you.” He grabbed into his cane and gestured for Bucky to follow.

He led Bucky up the stairs and down the hall, passing James and Wilma’s room, a bedroom with Alexander spray painted on the door in orange, and at the end of the hall was a bedroom door slightly ajar. Richard pushed it open and entered the room. His feet shuffled across the warn carpet as Bucky followed, taking in the sight of the room. Pictures were scattered across the walls and dresser, some of a younger Richard during his time in the service, others of the Commandos aged and gray, and a few of Liv throughout her years. Bucky’s eyes were glued to one photo of Liv, eyes still sparkling and beautiful as she smiled radiantly, her vibrant red hair instead a silvery gray.

Richard shuffled across the room to the dresser below the window and opened a drawer. He shuffled through it for a moment before pulling out a book. At first Bucky didn’t recognize it. It looked brand new, but as Richard approached him, holding it out, he realized the pages were stained and worn and old. This wasn’t a new book.

“Mom gave this to me to have. I believe she borrowed this but never got a chance to give it back,” Richard said, gesturing for his father to take the book.

Gently, Bucky took the book and looked at the cover. It was a refurbished copy of The Hobbit; Bucky’s copy. He had given it to Liv to read while they were in Europe and hoped she’d enjoy it as much as he did.

“Did she like it?” Bucky asked tentatively, looking up at Richard.

“She loved it,” Richard told him. “Read it to me before bed every night. We read the whole series together. She never got a chance to watch the movies.”

Tearing up, Bucky replied. “I’m just glad she liked it.”

“I know she’d want you to have it back. I like to think I was keeping it safe for you.”

“Thank you, Richard. I really— I appreciate this.” Bucky wiped a stray tear from his eye.

“I want you come visit whenever you feel like it,” Richard said earnestly. “I’d like to get to know you in whatever time I have left.”

“I’d like that too.” The super soldier nodded.

#mywriting #otp: Lucky #bucky’s wife mutual

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