#another child of Odin?

[powerbottom-thor]

Balder… Thor’s hidden brother? Will he be in the main timeline as well?

[worstloki]

Thor is such a slut that his mother saw the glimpse of his future and named him 'Thor' which rhythm perfectly with whore and easily gets misspelled as 'Thot'

Frigga: i have picked a name

Odin: i wanted to do that

Frigga: it's okay, you can do the next one

Odin: i thought we agreed on one kid

Frigga: *pointedly* yes, that's what i thought too

[musclesandhammering]

I don’t know how I’ve been meta-ing about the Odinson family for years and never picked up on this, but wow.

You know this fits with my very specific headcanon about their childhoods though.

I think from the time they were born, Odin was super paranoid about Thor- his offspring, his actual biological heir- turning out like Hela, and sort of just saw Loki as this extra kid he picked up at the seven eleven on the way home one day so he wasn’t too worried about him. And so he hyper focused on Thor when they were children- trying so hard to groom him into this honourable asgardian patriot instead of a murderous conquerer- and pretty much just ignored Loki altogether.

But then, when the two of them entered their teens, Thor was arrogant and enjoyed fighting too much, but was otherwise exactly what Odin wanted him to be. But at the same time, Odin suddenly realised how powerful Loki was growing up to be and how underhanded he was and how much rage he was hiding and mentally went “Oh fucking shit.. I worried about the wrong one.” And because Loki was already so old, he figured it was too late to try to shape him into something better, so instead he crucified Loki for every mistake he made, was constantly suspicious of him at every turn, made it clear that he didn’t trust him and thought he was going to turn out to be a villain… and for years Loki had to exist knowing his father saw him as an enemy. And he tried to prove him wrong, but Odin is a stubborn jackass so it never worked. And so the rest of the story goes..

I just love the concept of Odin’s own paranoia being the thing that lead to everyone’s downfall.

so is nobody gonna talk about how Mjolnir used to be Hela’s?!! i can’t believe i didn’t even notice this during the mural scene until my second viewing. like, she didn’t catch the hammer because she is more powerful than Thor (being Odin’s firstborn and all), she caught it because it was her hammer.

i need to go back and watch the first Thor film bc i think Odin said something along the lines of “the hammer is a tool to build and not just a weapon to destroy”, which is why he FLIPPED OUT when Thor went on that little destruction bender against the Frost Giants and HOLY MOLY Thor and Odin’s headbutting matches in the first film mean so much more now than just father and son disagreements about leading Asgard!!!

and then there’s Heimdall’s line during Thor’s vision in Age Of Ultron “You’re a destroyer, Odinson. See where your power leads.“ Destroyer = a family trait.

Meanwhile, we’re all over here worried about Loki doing evil things, but it was never about Loki.

Odin wasn’t concerned about Thor being too immature to lead, he was terrified Thor was headed down the same path of destruction and conquest as his first child, so he banished Thor to Midgard and placed a child-security-lock on the hammer to prevent a potential Hela 2.0 and i need to lay down now 0__0

Odin is still a shit parent for not coming clean about all of this. being straightforward and honest coulda saved a lot of hassle…fuckin odin >:C

[eclipsecrowned]

thinking of how ax's doom finds out he's going to be a father and immediately decides 'odin has to die.'

[skaldish]

Alright folks. Here it is, my theory of what Ragnarok actually represents. It is very messy and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to actually convey my understanding clearly like I try with most things, because genuinely this is shit I would write a doctorate-level thesis on.

But we're going to try anyway.

So. After doing a lot to try to replicate animistic thinking, as well as taking a VERY deep read of the Norse myths, my theory is that Ragnarok is specifically allegory for societal collapse—the "end of the world" imagery and such is meant to convey what this feels like.

Recall what Odin says in Grimnismal. It goes something like this, since I can't be arsed to find the exact quote:

Huginn and Muninn fly over the world every day; while I fear Huginn ("thought") may not return, I fear Muninn's ("memory's") absence most.

When a society collapses, so does it's memory. It loses its technology, its methodologies, its paradigms, and everything it has learned about the world up to that point. Gone. Entire chapters of history erased.

What causes societal collapse is not always a conquering force, but is oftentimes the result of circumstances that a society orchestrates for itself. Think Rome.

People who have gone through societal collapse will probably develop an invested interest in figuring out how to prevent it entirely, so they don't have to start society all over again.

It's one thing to preserve the memory of "things collapsed and here's why" using a story. But it's another thing to do what apparently the Norse people did, which is cultivate a methodology for cognitively hardening their own society against collapse, using stories as a way to do it.

Like...I'm not kidding when I say they legitimately knew how the human mind works, and then built an entire system of stories and narratives that intentionally support the mind's freedom, cultivation, and agency. I can only convey a fraction of how this works in this post because the rest requires a deep-dive into behavioral psychology and neurological development.

All the tales leading to Ragnarok demonstrate various instances where the gods choose to follow their own agendas at the expense of the real people and forces in the world. All of these little things contribute to the magnitude of the event that is Ragnarok.

The tales represent these transgressions using allegories rather than literal events. This is because these stories were designed for children, who don't process information through a prefrontal cortex like we do as adults. They don't have them yet. But this gives kids an intuitive understanding for how circumstances of collapse feel, so they can recognize them in all their forms.

Loki is an allegory for the mischief we feel as children, and for the behaviors we demonstrate before we get to the age where we start valuing cooperation. In the myths, every time Loki causes mischief in ways that creates problems, the gods get mad at him and threaten Loki's life until he fixes his mess. Loki eventually becomes vindictive, kills Baldr in a jealous fit, and then is punished by being bound and buried beneath the ground, only to fight against the gods in Ragnarok.

The surface-level takeaway is a lesson in parenting: If we punish kids for their mischief, they're going to become vindictive adults, and these adults are going to have it out for the rest of society because they've been disenfranchised.

But it doesn't just end here. Consider how we punish ourselves for our own sense of mischief, beating ourselves up for having "problematic" thoughts and trying to bind and bury those thoughts in the depths of our mind.

These thoughts come from a place our mind known as the limbic system, which is focused on avoiding pain and seeking pleasure, and—most importantly—does not understand the world or make decisions using logic and reason, but in terms of what feels enjoyable and what doesn't.

We tend to call this system our inner child.

When we punish our inner child, that child starts doing exactly what Loki does and resorts to malicious and petty tricks. We can hold this behavior at bay until something causes us to "snap" (like Jörmungandr's tail does) and out comes the malice of the disenfranchised inner child, which creates a terrible cascade of social consequences for us.

Now, if we were to listen to these stories as kids, we would naturally be very upset whenever Loki was threatened of punished, because we think out of the limbic system at that age and Loki is meant to represent us—specifically, the state of being a kid. We would see what comes to pass, with Loki being imprisoned and fighting the gods against Ragnarok, and it would become clear to us that there's consequences for punishing mischief AND also causing too much of it.

Now I don't know about you, but I was very motivated by a sense of justice as a kid. Hearing Loki's arc would have inspired me to learn how to be friends with my sense of mischief while also learning to use it in ways that were cooperative and social, because this would have been how I could right the wrong I felt was done to Loki. It would also mean my own limbic system will not fight against me in the future, but be a modality of thought I can always access. (This is the beauty of the way the Norse myths are crafted; they are designed to instill knowledge of the world using mechanisms that reinforce one's own sense of agency and competency, so rather than being told the moral of this tale, it sets me up to run right into the conclusion it wants me to draw, but in a way that makes me feel smart and therefore inspires me to value it.)

The binding of Fenrir serves a similar allegory. When we become explosively angry in the way that Fenrir represents, it consumes our wisemind the same way Fenrir consumes Odin during Ragnarok. But this only happens if we bind Fenrir/our anger. By demonizing this nature of ours simply for existing, it will not only refuse to listen to us, but also turn against us. Remember that Fenrir was willing to socialize and cooperate with the gods before his betrayal.

(Honestly, I believe this is why ulfheiðnar existed the way they did. Even though the animalistic rage of ulfheiðnar was too terrible for domestic society, it was not demonized, but instead given a social function. People would learn to understand and partner with their own sense of rage, and I'm guessing this is also how they were able to keep their sense of reason and priorities straight even while going berserk from psychoactives.)

These two examples serve to illustrate how societal collapse stems from binding or punishing our own natures. But also fearing our own nature as mortals factors into it.

For example, Naglfar. This is a ship constructed of dead people's fingernails, and its completion is part of what signals the beginning of Ragnarok. But as the story goes, we can delay Naglfar's construction by trimming the nails of the dead before we bury them.

Naglfar represents "neglect for the dead," and this is significant because the act of no longer viewing the dead as people is sort of like the canary in the coal mine for no longer view each other as people...and no longer seeing people as people is what defines Ragnarok.

A society is at peace when its people have no fear of death, and having no fear of death comes only by incorporating death as a normal and familiar part of life, just like we do with birth. Our relationship with death is a litmus test for our relationship with our own humanity—if we fear the dead and cannot see them as human beings, then we are always going to fear a part of our own humanity, and be at war with it. The simple act of keeping the nails of the dead well-groomed because it stalls Naglfar's construction was a way to remind people why such a simple act was profoundly important.

And these are just the things that I can think of off the top of my head that are the most obvious examples. There are—and I shit you not—multitudes of these things laced within the Norse myths.

(I haven't even gotten to the part about how the Norse creation myth uses what the womb feels like to characterize it. Telling this story to very little children helps them establish a sense of familiarity, belonging, and secure attachment with the entire world from the get-go. If they learn the world is everything they've already experienced, then their bodies will never be afraid of it, because nothing about it will feel unknown or unknowable. Like, how fucking dope can you get.)

So here's where we get to the really dense irony of all this: Why we don't pick up on all these nuances as Westerners and have so far missed this entirely.

It is for two reasons.

The first is because our society values the things that the Norse people identified as contributing to societal collapse—namely, the act of conquering/competing against other forces and conquering/competing against our own natures. The transgressions of the Aesir are not things we register as problematic because to us they're normal.

The second is that we don't think animistically. The way we are taught to convey, interpret, and transmit information is designed PURELY by and for the prefrontal cortex, with neglect to everything else (if you ever wonder why Americans look weird in how we behave, this is why). But because we only prioritize communicating this way, we're missing out on all the context added within the Norse myths. These myths function the same way Old Norse kennings did, in that they are designed to speak to ALL areas of the brain at once and in tandem, but if we only engage with it using one part of the brain, we're only going to get a small piece of the picture and the rest is going to look weird.

(Little experiment for you: Try to logic something out in your mind or think through a complex problem without using words or sentences to do it. Use any other kind of thought-process besides language. I promise you that not only is this possible, but it yields a completely different kind of experience and conclusion than you might otherwise reach.)

Honestly, I don't even think Snorri himself fully understood what he was looking at when he was recording the Norse myths. I think he was just writing them down according to how they were told, word-for-word. But his cluelessness is our good fortune now, because he not only preserved the cultural stories, but also what I consider an entire cognitive technology.

And every time I look at it, I can't help but think about the generations of people who sat around the fire in the dead of winter, weaving, crafting, and figuring out better ways to fortify their society, raise kids so they became fine and truly fearless people, and conserve information. This is, as far as I'm concerned, real magic.

They knew some shit.

[bookinit02]

even if loki and mobius’s relationship isn’t, or never is romantic, i still love how important it is just for loki to have a friend. a real friend, someone who he feels comfortable casually touching and approaching when one or both of them is in a bad mood. someone who he can sit in comfortable silence with, someone who he knows how to read, someone who knows exactly how to read him in return. this is loki, who grew up alone and unwanted, who constantly competed with his brother because he never felt like he belonged, who learned how to close himself off from everyone else in the world. who learned how to be prickly, defensive, evil, because no one ever saw him as anything else. because he was told his birthright was to die as a child, and that he should be lucky he gets to beg for scraps at odin’s table.

this is loki, who’s never been friends with anyone who didn’t want something from him. who’s never been real friends with anyone at all. and for the first time, we get to see him just existing. comfortable with another person, laughing with another person, sharing his thoughts and feelings with another person like he hasn’t been alone for his entire life. and it’s really, really nice.

[magnusmodig]

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐃 howled in his own ears on the day his brother had died. not the day loki had thrust himself into the black hole beneath the bifrost to be consumed by yggdrasil's stars and void. his brother's death had come in some part long before then.

( a gloomy day , beckoned by thor's own heart bleeding out as he had laid his head down upon mother's lap. his fretting had clouded the skies and thor had been none the wiser to it. "my son , what is it that troubles you?" frigga had asked , her hand stroking his hair , his fingers bunching her skirts into knots idly. "not me , mother," and he had shaken his head. "i am not the one troubled . . ." and in a rush of desperation the truth had torn itself from his chest like lightning through clouds. "—you would know best , wouldn't you? about loki?" her hand had stilled , and thor had known not why as he lifted himself from the sanctity of his mother's lap and lifted his head towards her. restless , the wind had picked up as he fret aloud. "—it's only ... he's seven hundred now. father says if his magics haven't come to him now—..." he couldn't bear the thought of that ending. "—but that isn't fair! loki is a son of odin and of you , mother , just the same as i. surely they would manifest. surely father is wrong." within hours of that day , in torrents of rain and howling winds , in the soggy mud of the woods with bruises and cuts from the rocks and pebbles of the roads beneath their hands and knees , thor had learned a dour truth: do not doubt the word of the god of wisdom , war , and death. )

as the truth had settled . . . thor had watched the light and life in loki's eyes die that day. in truth the fall was nearly an enactment of that moment , the result of a twisted premonition and thor had been too daft , too dawdling to see it.

his eye dragged towards the ledge she sat on , and recalled his own voice tearing like a jagged blade through the rust of his throat as loki fell / fell / fell into the darkness that had consumed him three-hundred years earlier.

a protectiveness fell over thor then. not again.

❝  do not sell yourself short , my young friend. though the shadow of your mountain is vast , take courage that it is only a shadow. in time , this too shall pass. ❞ he could not convince her of this. that he knew all too well. but as he held his hand out to her , to help her finally down from the ledge , thor hoped and prayed that in the least , he might be able to guide her to see past the mountain she had yet to climb , before her young arms gave out , before she was crushed by the rocks and boulders. ❝  might i know the name of the young lark to which i speak? ❞

The picture he draws into the snow, Luna watches each stroke. The words he speaks, they sound akin to what her mother would have said. The hope in her eyes no matter how dark and disturbing and the love she continued to carry for her daughter all the way up to her last breath. If her mother were here, she'd say the same thing. She'd nod along to this man's words and say that's right. There's always light wherever you are. there's always something. There was always something to find beauty in. Even in things that seemed impossible.

I'm not like you. Luna thinks to herself. She isn't like this man who sees the beautiful blue skies through all the dark and ugly clouds. Who sees the sun shining bright beneath the loud claps of thunder.

"I don't know if I can believe that." She murmurs. "When darkness comes, it swallows people whole. When it rains and the winds are too strong, there is no sunlight or blue skies to keep someone warm. The snow...the cold...there really is no source of warmth for people. That's why there are so many people dead. You're lucky that you can see all of the beauty in things."

[bones4thecats]

➸ Fear Deity! S/O; Record of Ragnarok

Character: Hermes, Aphrodite, Odin, and Buddha A/N: This was fun to write. By the way, I might allow requests to be open tomorrow. No promises though! Disclaimer(s): Nothing wrong, just fluffy shit

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Hermes ═══════════════════════════════╝

📨 As the Greek Deity of Fear, you were hailed for many centuries for your ability to torture someone with visions and dreams of their worst nightmares happening. Because of how bad some of them got, many began calling you Deitas Interni Nocendi, or Deity of the Internal Harm

📨 Hermes gained interest in you after the whole Adamas incident. He had asked if you sided with his uncle, to which you smiled and asked if he thought you feared such a pathetic man so much. He just smiled back and chuckled before evolving into a deeper conversation with you

📨 Years later, you guys stood by one another's side as you were married and began to make your own branch of the Greek Pantheon grow larger and larger. This was especially true when your children of fear from your previous bond with a human warrior, the Terrors, began to see Hermes like a father

📨 During Ragnarok, you stood alongside your husband and now adult-children. While he admired the fights with his father, you merely sat with your head on your hand in boredom. It wasn't until Poseidon lost and Jack the Ripper came on stage that you could feel the fear that flowed through everyone's frames, feeding you amazingly

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Aphrodite ═════════════════════════════╝

💐 Aphrodite has always been an alluring woman, and she knows that. She looks at herself so much that she can perfectly draw her body without any issue. But, with breasts that big, how hard would it be to remember your figure?

💐 When you arrived at a meeting with the other Gods, she was shocked to see just how dark you were. Even the God of the Dead, Hades, dressed in more color than you did! You walked in with your children following you, all in cute little color-coded cloaks, while you had a large thorn-made crown on top of your head with some thorns poking out of your skin amazingly

💐 She was entranced with how you held yourself. Many feared you, and the small few who didn't ended up succumbing to your ability to instill fear in all you wish too. Aphrodite was surprised that you seemed to have little animosity with her, and when she asked, she was happy to hear you actually enjoyed her more 'peppy-look'

💐 It was after you guys married and began ruling your realm together that everyone began to notice just how much more joyful you were to be around. You started dressing with more color and plants on you, she even got your little Terrors to dress more colorfully and child-like, despite how they aged to be more mature. It honestly made even the toughest Gods smile on the inside

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Odin ═════════════════════════════════╝

🪶 Odin respected you from afar. He knew of your abilities and always decided to stray away from asking you for any insights on the issues inside of your Pantheon

🪶 But, when a couple incidents with Loki grew into including your youngest Terror, Kenaz, he had no choice but to have you come to a meeting. Everyone was internally weary that you would pull something and end up forcing their Pantheon to go into war against you and your seven little fear-monster children. Thankfully, that did not happen and you ended up surprising them by being quite nice to be around

🪶 Ever since that day, you spoke more and more to the Head God of the Norse Pantheon. As he spoke to you more and more, Odin had started to mentally record every tiny event you guys had where you made his heart start beating faster. This led to you guys becoming close allies, then courting, before settling on marrying one another years later

🪶 When your only biological son, Thor, was born, everyone feared you more. Not only could you instill fear and make someone scared so much that they had a heart attack and just drop dead like nothing, you were also married to the Odin, and had the Thor as your son. You were quite the surprise to all

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Buddha ═══════════════════════════════╝

🍭 Buddha had always heard of a Deity that lived in Heaven that could control the fear that someone, even an immortal, had inside of them. He never encountered you for quite some time, but when he did, he wasn't that surprised with how you behaved

🍭 He guessed you'd be a quiet and threatening type, which you were. But, you only shocked him when you seemed to be more sunshine and rainbows with your Terror-children. You would kneel to their height, pat them on their shadow-like head, and kiss them goodbye as they went to speak to another mortal on the path to be a better person

🍭 When you guys actually started bonding, everyone who knew you just wanted to know why you were around the 'Human-God knockoff' all the time. You would just smiled and laugh before looking at them with a dead expression and telling them he made you laugh more than anyone else had ever

🍭 Buddha does love being around you, especially after you guys got together. He also loves being around your children. Your oldest Terror, Shui, was more of a shy-type, but when Buddha came around? That just fell faster than a loose rock on the mountain that Sun Wukong was stuck underneath years ago! He was the perfect choice for you and the perfect choice for your children. And you wouldn't have it any other way

[roshambo05]

So I decided to rewatch RTTE because I felt like indulging in some childhood nostalgia. A few things to note:

- Snotlout and Fishlegs are dating. Good for them.

- The twins are the best characters. Still don't know wtf a boar pit is.

- I know those are supposed to be dragon scales on Ryker's shoulder and arm pads but they look like turtle shells I'm sorry--

- Actually good disability rep?? Hello??

- Hiccup how tf are you still alive?

- "Toothle plama bla" is perhaps the funniest thing in any piece of media ever.

- On the subject of Gruffnut: There's another one???

- How does Tuffnut know so many languages? Did these languages exist in this time period? If so who taught him? Is Tuffnut Odin in disguise? Would that make Ruffnut Loki?

- Hiccup is AuDHD. No I will not be taking comments at this time.

- Where tf did Hiccup get his dragon blade in midnight scrum? Why did he not use it to free himself or fend off his attackers? Also, on the subject of midnight scrum, how is this boy's neck not broken??

- I stan one (1) Heather the Unhinged. Go off queen. Feral bastard child.

- Ruffnut is actually super smart?? And cool?? What??

- I did not watch the series before this one so Dagur's entrance confused me so much at first. Who is this man and why does his beard look like that?? Please shave.

- Gonna punch Snotlout's dad. Gonna kick his fucking ass.

- Why is Viggo so aggressively British? And why is his brother Scottish? Come to think of it, there is no consistency in any of the accents.

- Sir, that is not a dragon, that is a Pokémon (you know exactly which dragon I'm talking about don't pretend you don't know)

[thebunnyslibrary]

Movement

summary. You are the visiting princess of a kingdom in need. Instead, Loki will come to the aid of your needs. Having been searching for an element of sweetness for a spell, he finds himself drawn to you, especially when he senses a dark aura shielding your true self.

characters. Loki x Plus Size!Reader

word count. 7.4k

warnings. Asshole Parents, Death of a Sibling, Fatphobia, Dirty Talk, Use of Magic for Bondage

Masterlist

It was yet another frustrating day for Loki. He’d been trying for weeks to perfect a new spell, but for the life of him he couldn’t determine what the issue was.

The recipe in the tomes called for an element of sweetness. He’d tried every sweet element he could think of from every realm, but nothing worked. And now there was this visitation from an allied kingdom to deal with. Dawning his helmet, he took his step on the dais, next to his brother and behind his mother.

                “Everything alright Loki?” Frigga asked.

                “No worse than usual. Just a finicky spell.” Loki replied.

                “I noticed my supplies were disappearing faster than I was using them.”

                “My apologies, mother. I’ve been searching for an element of sweetness and cannot figure out exactly what the spell needs.”

                Frigga smiled a knowing smile and gave Loki’s hand a squeeze before resuming her royal stature. Loki glanced at Thor, who still looked fairly hungover from the previous evening’s rabblerousing revelries; despite it being long past the morning hour. Loki rolled his eyes and resumed his stoic-ness to prepare for the visitors.

                A visiting king and queen were appearing before the All-Father. He knew not why, only that they needed help with their daughter. Loki knew nothing about her. Nobody seemed to have anything to say besides 'Her eyes are nice.' He was half expecting her to just be a giant eyeball. Far stranger creatures had walked the halls of Asgard.

What he was not expecting was the goddess who entered the great hall behind her parents, looking only at the floor. Her rubenesque figure had Loki's hands clenching into fists at the thought of her thighs wrapped around his head. But Loki also sensed a dark, sad energy. This girl carried a true heartache, but why? Loki could not resist looking inside her mind.

Smile. Stand straight. Don't speak unless spoken too.  You repeated all this to yourself while trying to make yourself smaller; not an easy feat to do with your wide hips and round tummy. Your parents were the king and queen and it was your duty as a princess to represent the future of your kingdom. Especially after the reputation your older brother had set.

He'd deserted the throne, choosing instead a life of debauchery, opium, and in the end, crime. 2 years ago, news had arrived that your brother, the once crown prince, was found dead in a tavern; leaving you the only child of the throne. Now, with your parents growing older, there was talk amongst the kingdom of what would happen when their reign ended.

Your father and Odin spoke for some time, with Odin expressing condolences for your brother and your father explaining the depth of your kingdom's now precarious situation. But your father was not entirely truthful, choosing instead to weave a story of how your brother died heroically in battle.

"All-Father. We seek your council. We have always been good allies, a healthy tradeship, and now… we seek the hand of one of your sons for my daughter. To carry on our legacy." You looked between the two princes. Prince Thor, who seemed only half paying attention and had barely glanced his eyes at you before your father’s request, was now eyeing you with distaste; something you were used to.

The other prince, though, his face was set and his eyes were calculative, planning. But something about him seemed to draw you in; Almost in a warm and comforting way. You knew less about the younger prince, but you felt connected to him, if only because of his position as the second child. You wondered what his reaction to you is…

A husband?? For you??? Loki's heart raced at the thought. Surely your parents would most likely want Thor. Loki turned to the great oaf who was looking at you like a bug beneath his boot.

Loki however, couldn't help admiring you like art. He kept his face controlled and regal like a proper prince, but inside he felt something drawing him towards you. Maybe it was the sadness he felt coming from you. Your face was very neutral but he could feel an aura of sadness around you. But something was looking to escape; Loki could not determine what, only that it made him feel lighter than air.  Loki turned to Odin, awaiting his decision.

"And what does she have to say?" The All-Father asked, inviting you to speak for yourself for the first time since you’d entered the hall. His question surprised you, but your father beckoned you forward; a stern look on his face, reminding you not to say anything stupid.

"I want…what is best for my kingdom" You said, speaking the truth. There were many other things you wanted. You wanted to spend your days drawing, painting, reading, indulging in all of life's pleasures, as you believed all in the kingdom who wish to do so should be. And you weren't dumb by any means, you could easily engage in conversation for hours about literature and philosophy, even policy. But still your parents believed you were not disciplined enough to rule. Especially not with how people talked about you, particularly your figure.

Your mother and father were not exactly small people, and somehow their genetics had combined to give you broader everything, hips, waist, though not as much your chest. This all meant you often drew comments about selfishness; especially with your parents ever increasing taxes.

You truly wanted what was best for your people. And your parents decided this was it. To marry a strong king whom your parents trusted to rule the kingdom while you played the role of silent wife.

The All Father considered you a moment before nodding "Very well. I would like your daughter to stay here in Asgard for a week and allow my sons to court her. So long as everything goes well, a marriage will be arranged." Hearing this, your parents were overjoyed, holding each other closely; but not looking at you.

"Oh thank you All Father!" your father cried. Odin stood up, declaring "Tonight, we will celebrate with a banquet." You froze.

Oh no. Not a banquet. A loud noisy party with too much food. You swallowed your dread as your mother said to you.

“Come, we’ll get you dressed.”  You looked back to the younger prince before you exited the great hall, seeing what looked like a smirk playing at his lips.

As soon as the doors closed, Loki had a sudden spark of inspiration in the back of his head. Even though your parents did not see, he'd seen your eyes light up, and the darkness around you flashed…green.

“And where are you off to, my son?” Frigga asked.

“To prepare for banquet, of course.” Loki replied mischievously.

An hour or so later, you were tucked into a slightly ill-fitting purple dress, a corset making you appear somewhat thinner and pushing your chest up (though nothing hid your voluptuous behind). Your mother did her best to comfort you, but she was still in mourning of your brother. Her moods fluctuated between looking through you and criticizing you. Tonight unfortunately, she’d chosen to criticize.  

“There will be a lot of food tonight. Remember you do not need to sample anything.”

Your father also took his chance to get a few harsh words in “You may not be able to reel in Prince Thor but the younger son would work too. I’ve heard he’s smart. And strategic.”

“What is his name?” you asked.

“I don’t remember.” Typical of your father, never remembering the details. “I will advise you to be wary though. The younger prince is a master of magic, I’m not sure whether it for bad or good.”

“Stop fidgeting.” Your mother said as she smoothed out your dress, trying to hide anything she deemed ‘too fat.’

“The maids said he had a nickname…Silver Tongue? They said it’s because he is…well, charming.”

“The maids are a bunch of whores and gossips.” Your father said, rolling his eyes. “They call him Silver Tongue because he is a master manipulator. So keep your wits about you. …what little you have. Now, be down in the banquet hall in 25 minutes.”

Your mother gave you one sympathetic pat on the shoulder before they left you alone with your thoughts.

Once again you’d been fooled and your father made you feel like you were mentally incompetent. It wasn’t really your fault though, you just wanted to try to make friends and couldn’t tell when someone was deceiving you. It came from your good-natured heart.  But Loki, there was something about him that made you want to truly open up. You wondered where he was, how he was preparing for what you were sure was going to be a disaster of a night.

Loki looked around corner into the kitchen; and the only person there was the head cook, stirring away at some pot for the banquet, muttering about how Odin would throw something like this on her at the last minute. Perfect, so focused on her own issues she never saw Loki sneak up behind her and wave his hand, opening up her mind to suggestion.

“My prince, is there something I can do for you?” She asked him, a faint green glow in her eyes.

“Yes actually. I believe that extravagant chocolate cake of yours would be a perfect desert choice for tonight. Don’t you agree?” Loki said.

“Of course, my prince.

“Oh, and make sure this makes its way into the princess’s serving.” Loki handed her a small green bottle. A concoction of his own brewing.

“Of course, my prince”

“One last thing, forget I was ever here.”

                The cook blinked and she was alone in the kitchen, with no memory of the last few moments. All she knew was she had to get to work on chocolate cake for the banquet. And ensure wherever this potion had come from, it was in the princess’ dessert.

The banquet looked immaculate, given the last-minute plans. Banners of your kingdom had been hung alongside those of Asgard, hoping to bring good luck to a potential union. And as you’d dreaded, the food all looked so exquisite and tempting.

                Asgardian diet was very protein and fat heavy. Meats, cheeses, mead. There were more grapes in the wine being served than physically on the table. There were a few lighter options, but they were more meant as palette cleansers than actual food. You’d taken the smallest serving of meat and potatoes possible, but your stomach growled and your mouth watered at the delicious sights and smells; longing to partake in every one of them.  The food was certainly the highlight of the banquet so far.

                You’d danced with Thor before dinner, though he barely engaged you in conversation. He had asked about your kingdom, but when you’d started to talk about the kingdom’s people and the cultures, Thor rudely interrupted to know about your country’s resources, their exports, and you clammed up. Thankfully the dance ended there, saving you from having to answer.

While you knew the country’s resources, you believed more in the sharing of cultures, rather than just buying and selling of things. You couldn’t even enjoy the feeling his strong arms around you because he moved you with no care, as if loading a cart.

                After dinner was dessert and then you were supposed to dance with the other prince. He hadn’t come to ask you to dance yet, leaving you to sit and stare at what had to be the most amazing chocolate cake you could ever dream of. It was 3 beautiful layers of sponge with crème in between each layer and fresh raspberries on top. But you knew if you had a bite, you’d never hear the end of it from your parents.

 Somehow it seemed your piece was almost double the size of the ones of your parents, making them stare at you accusatory, but you hadn’t done anything. It wasn’t as if you’d asked for a larger piece.

                “Why, my lady, you haven’t touched your desert.” A smooth voice broke through your thoughts and you looked up into piercing green eyes. The prince was staring at you. He was dressed as he was earlier in the great hall, including his golden horned helmet and his flowing green cape.. You stared in awe at the way his helmet shined in the light. Until you realized you’d left him unanswered.

                “N-no, your highness. It’s alright though. I’m not hungry. And I owe you a dance.” You insisted.

                “Oh, princess. I wouldn’t dream of taking a woman from her desert. Especially a chocolate cake as delicious as this.” He said, temptingly. He came around the side of the table to sit in what was now an empty seat to your right. He took your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips, making sure to meet your eyes so you could see the fire burning in them. “Prince Loki, at your service.” You gave him yours, feeling your face heat up as he repeated it back to you, rolling off his tongue like poetry.

                He picked up one of the golden forks, and taking a generous sized bite.

                “You…you’re going to feed me?” you asked, astonished.

                “I am at your service, after all.” When you didn’t react, still hearing your mother’s voice in your head. He took a kinder smile, his eyes softening. “Entertain me one bite, princess. I simply have to the see the look on that face when you indulge in …something sweet.”

                Loki was watching your face indeed, and your aura. He knew if you took one bite of the cake, the potion he’d mixed would release your inhibitions and you would be your true self, the self that Loki was dying to meet behind your beautiful eyes and bountiful curves.

                You looked around, seeing your parents were busy talking to the All Father and Mother.

                “I suppose one bite would be alright.” And you weren’t sure you could deny Loki, the name was different to you but it seemed playful and fun, certainly as much as the man looking at you now. He hadn’t asked you a single question, hadn’t even asked for his dance but was instead urging you to…have cake? You opened your mouth and he slipped the fork between your lips.

The taste was anything far better than you’d imagined. The cake was made with rich Asgardian chocolate that legend said was the aphrodisiac used to conceive the gods. The sponge of the cake itself was pillowy soft. While the tartness of the raspberry managed to cut through all the sugar to compliment the edge of bitterness that gave way to a sweet aftertaste as the silky frosting melted in your mouth. You couldn’t stop the moan that let loose from your lips.  

                You covered your mouth in shock. “Please, forgive me your highness. That was highly inappropriate.”

                “Perish the thought darling. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I certainly did.” Loki said. You looked at him confused. Surely he was jesting? “Come, I believe I’ll have that dance now.”

The feeling of Loki’s arms was much different than that of Thor’s. While Thor handled you like a bag of flower, Loki held you with great care. Making you feel safe and secure. While not as bulky as his brother, Loki seemed to possess a different kind of strength. One meant to fight to defend, not necessarily attack.

                A sweet soft song filled the room as the musicians began to play. You’d never considered yourself a dancer, always worried what someone would say of your form. But now, with Loki, you felt like a leaf drifting in the wind. With Loki leading, you felt free to just enjoy yourself in the movement.

                “I suppose you want to talk about my kingdom’s resources? Thor certainly did.” You said.

                “Believe me I am nothing like my brother.” You could relate to that. “And you don’t seem all that interested in talking about resources, though.” He looked at you inquisitively. And though your instincts ordered you to clam up and nod, you couldn’t help yourself from saying

                “No, I believe we should use our resources to help our less fortunate. Keep some to trade as needed, but I believe we should exchange cultures, not currency, first.” You froze in disbelief; you couldn’t even imagine how stupid you sounded.

                “I agree.” Loki’s velvet voice shook you from your self-doubting. “Royalty must think of the people; otherwise they’re likely to lead a short rule with a bloody end.”

                “Something my family has had to re-learn; for example, ignoring a kingdom to focus on one royal member.” Despite your newfound willingness to keep talking, you did give pause when the conversation started to shift to your brother.

                Loki sensed your usual instinct weighing out his potion and decided to change the subject. “I completely understand. Tell me about your kingdom instead.”

                “We were once a society that valued great art.” You explained, wistfully.

                “Once? No longer?” Loki inquired.

                “No; our kingdom has unfortunately turned selfish and judgmental, choosing to value a high standard of beauty, not just passion and creation for passion and creation’s sake.” Your angers and frustrations flowed so willingly; despite the years of repression your parents had forced on you.

                “I see.” Loki pulled you closer to him. You two were quiet for a minute, letting you admire his face. You knew plenty about his eyes; sparkling like a thousand emeralds in a dragon’s hoard. But now you were close, you could see the pink plushness of his lips, the angular jaw of his chin, and you could feel his inky black hair tickling your fingers as you moved your hand up his back slightly. Not to mention the solid muscle you felt underneath his fine Asgardian leather.

“It’s such a pity that a kingdom who cannot see beauty when it’s right in front of them.” He certainly lived up to his nickname. You were sure he was just being polite, playing his part as royal prince. “Tell me, princess, do you value great art?” His question caught you off guard.

                “I-I certainly do. In fact, one reason I was excited to come to Asgard was to see the great gallery.”

                “Perhaps you will allow me to give you a tour of them?” he offered.

                “Allow? Your highness, it is my understanding that you are to be in charge.”

                “And it is my understanding; that I am far more interested in what you want, princess. And I’ll hope you want to call me by my name. It sounds so lovely coming from your luscious lips.”

                “Y-Yes Loki.”

                “Good girl.” Those two words; you’d read them plenty of times in the books you squirreled away from the royal library (grateful that the elderly librarian was your confidant). But you’d never dreamed that someone, especially someone as handsome and with a voice like Loki’s would actually say them to you. Hearing them sent a shiver down your spine that settled in your core, making you clench your thighs.

                “Are you an artist yourself, princess?” Loki asked, carrying on as if nothing happened. But he knew, Your aura was glowing a brilliant bright green. You were his element of sweetness.

                “I…I do like to paint sometimes. But I’m not very good.” You admitted, finally finding your voice again.

                “I’m sure they are lovely, princess. Even so, if you enjoy something, good or bad does not matter. Only that you have enjoyed it and put yourself into it. That is what makes ‘good’ art. I’d certainly love to see it.”

                Loki’s words were a far cry than what you’d always heard. People mocked your art, believing it childish and unprofessional.

                “What else do you enjoy?” he asked.

                “Well, I read.”

                “What exactly do you read, princess?” Loki asked with a waggle of eye brows that had you giggling like a school girl.

                “Poetry, preferably. But anything and everything I can. At least when I am able.” You caught your mother’s eye across the room and though she looked approving, she still gestured at you to keep your smile “gentle” as she called in, meaning not too big. Your smile faltered and Loki noticed, as well as the reason why. In an attempt to re-lift your spirits, he said

                “Well, I shall have to show you the library on that tour as well.” His voice sounding genuine and full of promise.

The song ended and Loki escorted you back to your seat, pressing his lips back to your hand one more time.

                Your mother took your other hand and squeezed it lovingly, seeming proud that you had somehow managed to intrigue Loki; which also left yourself in a slight state of disbelief. You weren’t quite sure how’d you’d done it, but all you knew was that you were craving more of his touch and presence.

                Loki had left you, not by choice but nature called even to royal princes. As he returned to the dining hall, he made eye contact with you instantly; and was more than delighted to see you rise, say a few words to your mother and start to come towards him. But his mood changed as Thor moved into his field of vision

“Loki I’m surprised. You cannot be genuinely interested in that princess, can you?”

“And why would that be, brother?” Loki replied, his voice tense on the last word.

“Surely you see her Loki? She’s not worthy of being a queen. A queen has to present a beautiful image to her people and she’s…not.  I suppose if you were king you could take a consort. Or perhaps a COW-nsort.” Thor said, starting to laugh boisterously at his own joke. Loki was going to brush Thor aside when he saw you standing right behind the brute, and knew that you had heard every word. Your aura, which had been shining brilliantly green when Loki had left you, returned a dim grey. Even though your face showed no reaction.

Loki however, reacted before he could stop himself, drawing his arm back and landing a solid blow to Thor’s face, knocking him back and onto the floor. All eyes were now on the scene; including your parents, who were looking at you accusingly and you wished the floor would just swallow you up.

                Instead, you felt Loki grabbing your hand.

                “Come with me, princess.” Before you could say a word, he was pulling you out of the banquet hall and through the corridors of the palace until he pulled you into corner. Now that you were alone, the last few moments finally caught up with you.

“Loki, you punched your brother.”

“Trust me, it is taking all my strength not to go back and doing it several more times. And a few other things.”

“But why? I’ve heard far worse about me.” You explained and Loki’s eyes seemed to fill with sadness hearing this before they lit up with an idea.

“Would you like to see my garden?”

“What?”

“Would you like to see my garden? It might be best if I hide for a little bit considering what I’ve done and my garden is the most secret place in the whole palace…except maybe my mother’s.” You could hear what sounded like guards coming towards you and nodded quickly. Loki took your hands and you felt a warm gust of wind blow over you.

When you opened your eyes, you were not standing at a garden but at the edge of a forest. Loki waved his hands and the trees seem to part.

“My garden has a secret entrance at the end of this pathway. I could have teleported us directly, but it is such a lovely night. I was sure the moonlight would make you look even more beautiful.” He offered you his hand and feeling as if you were in a dream, took it and allowed him to take you down the road. The full moon overhead cast everything in a dim light, along with some bioluminescent plants, bathing the scene in a romantic mood.  You couldn’t believe it; things like this didn’t happen to you.

Along the way, Loki continued to ask about your passions and interests, Even when you rambled too much about your favorite books, or at least what someone else might’ve called talking too much, Loki hung on your every word. And you in turn were intrigued by his stories of Asgard, answering every one of your questions, even if he had to pause his story to do so, but showed no annoyance.

Finally, you two came to a large clearing. In it were all varieties of flowers in a rainbow of colors; including a group of roses that grew in an actual rainbow. The flowers emitted such a strong aroma that it made your hear feel light as a feather. Several small bushes bore exotic fruits and what appeared to be an herb garden caught your eye. A small hut sat next to a river at the far end of the clearing.

 “I built a small workshop out here for when I need to get away from the palace to research magic.” You came to a beautiful wooden bench at the edge of a river, with lavendar growing along banks. The bench itself was surrounded by glowing flowers and it seemed to have formed between two trees. The backside was carved intricately with Asgardian designs and runes.

                “Come, sit.” Loki offered you a seat which you gladly took, admiring the breathtaking view. Before Loki sat, he removed his cape and wrapped it around you, leaving his arm over shoulders. He waved his hand and a beautiful golden rose grew up towards you. A small gasp in awe passed through your lips as Loki smiled.

“Tell me, darling what would you do if you were the queen?” Loki asked you.

“What does that have to do with defending me?” you asked In return.

                “Well, would you not expect your husband to defend your honor?” That last word took you aback.

                “I suppose but…”

                “So, what you do if you were queen?” And you paused for a moment, never having given a lot of thought, because you thought it would never be.

                “I don’t know. Make sure the people were happy?”

                “How would you do that?”

                “Let people do what they want, so long as they’re not hurting each other and the kingdom is not in flames.” You shrugged half-heartedly.

                “And what would you do to punish those who were hurting other people?” There you had pause. You wanted to be fair and just; wanted to take care of your citizens. But you knew there were people like your brother out there; those who would hurt just for harm’s sake, no matter how anyone tried to help.

                “I’m not sure, honestly. I suppose the obvious answer is jail, but it’s more complicated.” You sighed. “It’s always more complicated.”

                “You speak from experience?” Loki asked. The pause was pregnant. You could reveal the truth now, but would it bring shame on your house as your parents worried? 

                “My brother. The story my parents told is not entirely true. He is dead, but not from battle. From a life of debauchery. He cared for nothing but his own selfishness, no matter who it harmed. Leaving me to bear so much responsibility." Loki squeezed your hand.

                “I can understand that. You might’ve noticed Thor is not exactly the most graceful.”

                “That’s putting it mildly.” You smiled weakly. Loki cupped your cheek with his hand, gently guiding you to look into his emerald eyes which gleamed in the moonlight.

                “I know my apology does not seem much in the way of things, but I want to tell you how sorry I am. Not just for Thor’s behavior, but for how life has treated you. And that I see you; And I wish to give you everything you have ever deserved. You have a thoughtful brain, a strong but warm heart, and a passion that is simply intoxicating and admittedly contagious. I want to indulge you in every of life’s pleasures.” Loki cupped your other cheek and brought his lips to yours in an amazing kiss.

                You were stunned at first, but as what you’d been thinking about all night suddenly became real, you let yourself melt into it. His kiss reminded you of the winter snows back home, brisk but it made you enjoy the warmth of his hands on your face all the more. Finally he pulled away and you could not help the tears that sprung to your eyes. Loki’s faced was instantly concerned.

                “Are you alright, pet?”

                “I am. I just…I’m convinced this is a dream. I’ve never been, wanted like this before.”

                “Does this mean you are a maiden?”       

                “Not…exactly. There was a member of father’s guard once. But he never spoke to me again afterwards. Left the guard entirely. And told all his buddies I ‘wasn’t worth it’.” Loki’s temper flared, but he focused back on you.

                “Forget about any past experiences, pet. I cannot wait to spend hours making you moan and quiver at my touch. I want to explore every inch of you with my hands…and my tongue.” He said, his voice low and raspy and you squeezed your thighs together. “Do you like that idea pet? If we were to wed, maybe I’d have you sit on my lap during court sessions. After all you do want to let people…do what they want, don’t you? So long as they’re not hurting anyone.” You bit your lip, considering the idea. It was almost as if he could read your mind. He placed a kiss to your forehead.

                “I can pet.” He said with a smirk.

                “What? For how long” You asked, covering your face in embarrassment.

                “Since you were hiding behind your parents.” Loki cupped your cheek, bringing your face back toward his.  “And I heard all your pain and heartache. But beneath it I saw a guiding hand, needly only a strong sword to wield. Or…perhaps a dagger.” Loki smirked. “If you’d like, I could be that dagger. I know Thor is destined to be All-Father, but I could settle for being a king with a beautiful queen. What do you say?”

                What did you say? You could hardly believe what he was saying. It was all too good to be true, but as you looked in his eyes, searching for any hint of malice, and finding none, decided to throw caution to the wind and you leaned in to kiss him now, wrapping your arms around him. “I say your father was right about planning a wedding.” You and Loki both chuckled.

                “It would be more proper if I sent you to bed, but I am afraid before I become king I must throw propriety to the wind at least once.”

                “You don’t seem the type to care for propriety, kinghood be damned, Loki.”

                “You’ve caught me. But that only means I will have to show you how fun being improper truly is.”

In a flash you were back in Loki’s chambers. A beautiful bedroom with a massive wooden frame and green silk sheets. There was one door that must’ve led to a bathroom; and two double doors that probably led to the rest of his space.

                “Now, I promise I did not dig too deep into your mind, darling. But I could certainly tell what you were thinking when you look at me." Loki waggled his eyebrows, and your face warmed. "I think I know exactly what you need. And if you are uncomfortable at any point, I will stop. But I think you desire someone to take charge in the bedroom. Not to control but to take care of you. Is that right, pet?”

                “Yes, please…my king.” You said, smiling sheepishly. Without warning, Loki bent down to scoop you up and throw you over his shoulder, making you gasp. “Loki! No, you can’t…”  But your words were cut off with a yelp as Loki brought his hand down upon your ass in a sharp spank.

                “Can’t what, darling?” Loki asked, incredulously.

                “P-pick me up. I’m…I’m too heavy.” You whined as Loki spanked you again.

                “I’m sorry kitten did you say something?” Loki’s tone daring you to say something else bad about yourself.

                “No, my king.” You whimpered, the blood rushing to your head making you slightly woozy.

                “Good, because if I thought you were doubting my abilities to take care of you, by say, suggesting I am not strong enough to support and love every inch of you, I might have to punish you.” You got the message from his tone and tampered down any further injections.

                “Yes, my king.”

                “Good girl.” Loki carried you over to his bed, and you certainly appreciated not just the feeling of being carried, as you’d read about in so many books but only imagined for yourself, but the great view of Loki’s backside. Since he’d shed his cloak you could see how the fine Asgardian leather clung to his back. He was not nearly as bulky as Thor was, and you were glad of it. Loki’s strength wasn’t for show, but he still made you feel safe and secure.

                You landed on his bed with a soft oof but could barely relish how soft the sheets were before your arms were tugged above your head and your ankles spread wide. But Loki wasn’t even touching you. He waggled his eyebrows playfully.

                “Did you know your king was a master of magic, pet?”

                “I had heard you had some powers…and I’d heard your nickname…Silver Tongue.” You said the last words in a hushed voice, scared of finding out people had been messing with you again.

                “Oh you have heard correctly.” And I’ve been thinking about showing you why since I first laid eyes on you” Loki crawled on the bed, making the top half of his armor disappear, leaving him only in his trousers. He was kneeling between your legs. “First, I need to see what is hidden beneath this beautiful dress. I can’t wait to see you bathed in my colors.” He waved his hand and your dress suddenly vanished. Leaving you only in your corset and silken panties.

“Fuck, you’re better than any yuletide gift.” Speaking to his metaphor from earlier, Loki summoned a dagger into his hand and slowly ran the blade up your chest, slicing off each individual button to release your flesh. The sight of the blade in his strong hand as he held it so carefully, combined with the freedom as the corset fell away you sucked in a deep breath made you try to clench your thighs. But Loki’s magic bonds held strong. 

“I promise my pet, from now own, corsets will be your choice to wear; not so you have to hide this luscious body from me.” Loki’s hands grabbed your hips, and you were half hoping he’d leave bruises, then ran over your stomach, tickling you slightly, before moving to your breasts.

                Your nipples had perked up at exposure to the air and Loki’s hands were now cold as he tweaked them into even harder peaks. “Loki…my goodness…your hands are like ice…”

                “Sorry pet, I couldn’t resist playing with you just a little bit. You’re so adorable. And there is one more thing I must confess to you. You are familiar with the frost giants of Jotunheim?”

                “Just in name only.” Loki let out a small sigh in what seemed like relief. Before your eyes, Loki’s glimmer faded for a moment, revealing blue skin with rigid marks all along his face and chest. “I too know what means to be judged by appearances.” Loki paused, scared of your silence. But his fears washed away when you spoke.

                “I only wish I were untied so I could trace every one of those markings on your chest, my king.” Your kind heart, the innocent way you looked at him, without a hint of fear or disgust. Loki could feel his magic flare and he felt something feral within him snap. He returned his Asgardian glimmer.

                “Fuck darling I have to make you mine, now.” Loki growled, pressing his face between your legs. He tongue was indeed cold as silver, but it only made you moan louder as he seemed intent his promise and explore every inch, starting with your pussy. “Your little cunt is absolutely dripping for me, pet. And you called me improper.” He resumed his ministrations, moving his tongue to circle your clit and pushing two fingers into you and curling them up, causing your hips to buck into his face

                “Someday soon, I will have to make you show me how you touch yourself, my pet. So I know how to better please my queen.”

                “Y-yes my king.” You panted out as Loki added a third finger; the utterly sinful noises coming from between your legs were only driving your arousal further. Not only did Loki seem determined to make you cum, but to make an art out of it.

                “Good girl, pet. You will have two thrones. One in public,” He grinned wolfishly at you, green eyes flashing with power. “and one in our chambers.”

                “Uhm-I don’t…I don’t think…” Loki’s other hand smacked your clit hard, making you cry out.

                “If you can still think about denying me, or worse, INSULTING what is mine…I clearly haven’t done my job right.” Loki growled as he withdrew his fingers from you, making you clench around nothing. He brought his fingers his lips and made a show of lewdly slurping your juices off them. “Oh yes, far sweeter than anything I have tasted in my lifetime.”

Loki leaned down to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips. You were amazed at how powerful and confident his kiss made you feel. It was almost like you could feel his magic flowing through you. And it was driving you crazy with want. Especially with the way Loki was rolling his hips against yours.  He moaned into the kiss. “You can feel my energy can’t you, my powers? That’s you, My sweet little pet.”

“Wha- what do you mean?” your head was swimming in pleasure you’d never experienced before and here was Loki speaking in riddles.

“You’re the final piece to my latest spell, my element of sweetness.”

“What spell?”

“To make my siedr stronger; allowing me do things like keep you pinned to this bed and much more. There’s a spark inside of you that I’ve been able to draw out.”

“I have…magic?” you asked

                “Not exactly, pet. But you make a wonderful conductor. And I know what’ll the sparks really fly.” His lips found yours in a kiss that made you understand true passion. Your toes were curling and you were pressing your body against his as much as you could against his magic bonds.

                “Whatever your heart desires, it is yours pet. I shall pluck every star from the heavens, raze any planet to ash, I am your dagger, my queen. Wield me at your command.” Loki promised, his voice heavy and lustful.

                “Loki, please…fuck me.” You whimpered out, his words, the feeling of his cock grinding against your cunt, it was all so overwhelming and you were beginning to feel like you needed him like you needed oxygen.

                “Since you begged so sweetly.” With a wave of his hand, his trousers were gone. You gasped when you saw his cock. It was twice the size the guard’s had been, and far thicker. Dribbles of pre-cum ran down the side. You found yourself licking your lips, having never been a fan of the act before, now you were imagining Loki using your throat to warm his cock while sitting upon a throne.

                “Another time, pet.” Loki chuckled. “Right now, I must claim you as mine.” He leaned in to kiss you again as he pushed his cock inside you. He moved slowly at first, gently rolling his hips and allowing you to adjust to him. When he pulled his lips away, your heavy breaths turned to moans as you relished in the feeling of him. It was far better than your fingers had ever been able to reach and when he finally bottomed out, Loki used his thumb to rub small circles around your clit, making your pussy clench around him.

                “Oh my pet, you feel so warm and perfect around my cock. Like you were made for me. Made to be my beautiful queen, and my slutty fucktoy.” Suddenly he grinned and his eyes flashed with an idea… “In fact…” He snapped his fingers and your shoulders felt instant relief as you were able to move your arms; but only for a moment as Loki leaned down to grab your wrists in each hand. Before you could question him, you found yourself being turned over so you were looking down at loki now. “Now, my sweet little toy. Bounce for me.”  

Your wrists were tugged behind your back again by his magic, leaving Loki’s hands free to fondle your curves. When you didn’t move, he gave your waist a playful pinch. “I said, bounce, little rabbit.”

                “But won’t I…hurt you? I mean, I’ve never had a partner want me in their lap cause I know I’m…” your words were cut off by Loki squeezing your cheeks. He brought his face so close to yours you could smell your cunt on his breath when he spoke.

 “My gorgeous, beautiful, queen; If I hear another word from these perfectly plump lips that is detrimental to your shapely figure; I shall be forced to keep you bound to my bed until you can’t remember a single thing but your own pleasure. Is that understood?”

                “Y-yes, my king.” You said, not sure whether you were more scared of his threat, or how pleasurable the idea sounded.

                “Now, I believe I gave you a command, little bunny.” Loki reminded you, pressing a surprising chaste kiss to your cheek before resuming his hands’ ministrations.

                You slowly started rocking your hips to move up and down. The position wasn’t easy on your knees, but when your clit brushed against the hard chisel of Loki’s body, nothing else mattered. Loki kept one hand on your hip to help guide you while the other rolled your nipples between his fingers pulling every now and then and making you grind down on him hard.

                “That’s it, my pet. I shall show you how to walk the edge between pain and pleasure.” His hips were rising to meet yours as he chased his own pleasure. “Your quim is perfectly fit for my cock; and you are a true call to motion. I will have to have you painted like this.” His words were poetry that only drove you towards your climax faster.

                “Loki…my king…I need to…”

                “Yes, yes my pet! Cum for me and feel me filling you up. The first of many times to…come.” He said before his own orgasm grabbed hold of him; contorting his angelic face in pleasure while crying out your name and pushing his hips up, somehow forcing his cock even deeper within you.

                You swore you were seeing genuine stars behind your eyes as your climax crashed down over you. You could feel Loki’s cum inside you and running down your thighs as he rutted into you a few times, riding out his own orgasm. When you both were stilled, your arms came free and you were able to let yourself fall onto his chest.

                Loki’s arms engulfed you and he held you close to his chest. Your mind raced as your finger absently minded drew shapes on his chest.

                “Pet, I promised I wouldn’t read your mind, but I still can hear the thoughts twisting around.” He placed a kiss on your forehead before using his index finger lifted your chin to meet his eyes. “What troubles you?”

                “I just…I have never been the chosen favorite, the one actively pursued, But the way you look at me… I suppose I still worry that the rug will be pulled from beneath me.”

                “Oh my pet, When you move, I could never define all that you are to me. You are the rite of movement. When you move, I move. And your movements drive me to do impossible things, all for you.” Loki promised with another passionate kiss.

                “Rest now, darling. When we wake; we will have a wedding to planned.” He drew you in and you considered his words. When you move, I move. You smiled, allowing the truth of Loki’s devotion to you to wash over like the ocean and you resolved to be as devoted to him.

                “Yes, my king.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 51

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: 50 chapters?!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You cross your arms, trying to comfort yourself as you wait. The front door opens and the only harbinger of your visitors are their footsteps. The grim pall of the house swallows them up as they shuffle over the doormat.

You don’t look over as their figures appear as shadowy blurs in the edge of your vision. You’re too humiliated to face your guests. Not truly yours, but Loki’s. Like everything else; this house, the very couch you sit on, the clothes you wear. Isn’t that what he’d only just berated you for? Taking it all so ungratefully.

“Darling,” Frigga’s the first to speak as she approaches, almost sheepishly, “my, I’d say it’s lovely to see you both but you look dreadful.”

You wince as she nears and shrink down, bending your legs as you long to curl into a ball. You hug your knees and curl your shoulders. She hovers over you, turning to speak to the others.

“You must open the curtains, it’s awfully gloomy in here,” she demands.

Loki mutters but at a grunt from his father, he acquisces. You stare at the black pants as he tears open the drapes, the rod ringing with his efforts. Another figure looms close. Odin shifts and places his hand on the armrest behind your shoulders.

“I see all is in a state of fine order,” Odin proclaims dryly, “you have this poor thing hanging from the troughs–”

“Father,” Loki sneers as he faces the room again. He steps forward, trying to tidy his wild curls, made even more defiant by his neglect. You notice his attire; his shirt is untucked and clashes with his tan trousers. “I will not be lectured.”

“Oh, dear, look at her face,” Frigga lowers herself to sit on the edge of the sofa and touches your arm kindly, “her dressings need changing.”

You avert your eyes and bite down on your cheek. You’d almost forgotten your nose and the peeling bandages. All that wasn’t as dire as the walls.

“Mm, and that isn’t my fault, mother. It isn’t I who would injure her thus. Rather your golden child,” Loki spits. “If you’ve come to argue the point further, I haven’t the time to hear it.”

“Son,” Odin girds, “do not rile yourself with presumptions. We’ve come to make sure you are well, as any decent parents might.”

“Hm, because you’ve always been so eager to visit, father,” he scoffs.

“Eh, Loki,” Frigga squeezes your arm before she stands again, “we thought to share some news to you. In person as it were. You wouldn’t answer the phone but we do believe you deserve to have it straight from us.”

“Oh, what is it now? Are we celebrating the solstice?” Loki folds his arms and lifts his chin, “you can check us off as not attending, thank you.”

“Now, don’t be an ass,” Odin growls, “if you would hear us, you might not have the urge.”

“Why should I listen to you, eh? Did you listen to me? Did you hear me when I walked in bruised to the gills? Did you hear me over that lout’s lies?” Loki snarls, “you made no move to stop me going but here you are, pouting and begging forgiveness. 

“Well, let me make it clear, you and that cretin you call your eldest son, will not entangle yourselves in another of my marriages. It will not happen. I told you that morning and I meant it. He is no brother of mine and if you continue to pander to his misdeeds, then you will count yourself two children, not three.”

You tweak a brow and tilt your head as his rant swirls over you. Marriage? Surely, he only misspoke.

“Would you listen?” Odin’s voice booms, echoing around the room as he steps around the couch and punches his palm. “We do count only two children; you and Hela.”

“Right,” Loki says unconvinced, “certainly, you will do your best not to let me share a table with him again. We can pretend nothing happened. That he did not accost my wife. Just as before, it is under the carpet as we stomp it into submission.”

“Wife?” Frigga murmurs in confusion and glances at you. You feel her gaze but don’t meet it. You’re just as confused.

“I mean it,” Odin insists and turns to look at you, “I am ashamed that my son would hurt you, dear. Brute as he is, I cast him out. He is banned from the house and wiped from my ledgers. Should you wish it, I would gladly testify to his guilt.”

You don’t reply. Which son does he mean? The one who chased you through the night or the one locking you in the dark?

“Thor is not welcome in this family anymore. If you hadn’t run away…” Odin faces Loki again.

“Oh, forgive me for my skepticism, father,” Loki grimaces, “you’ve not exactly earned a lot of trust from me–”

“Nor you me,” Odin counters.

“You never gave me a chance,” Loki hisses, “very well then, thank you, oh, great father, for practising an ounce of good judgment.”

“Boy,” Odin wags his finger at his son as he steps closer.

“Boy?” Loki exclaims, “get out. Now.”

“Loki,” Frigga screeches, “enough. We’ve come all the way here to apologise to you and… her, and you are being insensible. Would you hear us?”

Loki rolls his eyes. He keeps one arm across his chest and bends the other to flutter his fingers dismissively, “you kept him in my life. You begged me to look past his slights for years and refused to see them until someone got hurt.”

“Yes, we were neglectful. Willfully blind,” Frigga says sadly, peeking back at you, “seeing you that morning, and now, the bruises, and her… we… we are very sorry and we can understand that it might be too late for all this but we only want to be heard.”

Loki is quiet, roiling as he breathes loudly. He swallows and sniffs, “yes, you should look at her and see what he did to her.” His lip twitches, “and if I had not been there, imagine what he would have done–”

You close your eyes as you feel a weight over you, feel the suffocating heat, hear Thor’s sinister tone, ‘little maid’.

“Stop!” You throw your hands up as your eyes snap open, “please stop, I don’t want to think about it.”

“Oh, dear,” Frigga spins and once more rests herself on the couch’s edge, “you don’t have to. Please, you’re safe. He won’t bother you again. I’ll be sure of it.”

You knot your fingers together and twist until your knuckles hurt. You can’t look at her, at any of them. You shake your head and shrug.

“As you can see, she is not ready for company,” Loki asserts.

“What I see is she’s being shrouded away in this crypt,” Frigga rebuffs, “she requires sunshine. She needs healing, not paranoia.”

“You don’t know what we’ve been through,” Loki accuses, “how can you know what she needs?”

“I have eyes,” Frigga snips, “darling,” she speaks to you, “would you like some tea in the garden? Just you, I wouldn’t want to infringe.”

You gulp and rub your neck. You nod, “yes.”

“See?” Frigga pets your knee kindly before she stands again, “I won’t tread upon your toes, son, you get her the tea and see her to the garden.” She sidles aside to stand with her husband, “and then you will explain to me this whole marriage business.”

You glance over at Loki, the same question nipping at your ears. Was he confused? Why did he say all that? Marriage, wife? No, prisoner and warden, that’s what it truly is.

✨

Slowly the doom recedes. The warmth of the sun beams down as you keep your finger hooked in the handle of the tea cup. You let the steaming brew go cold as your eyes devour the scenery. The greens, the violets, the indigos, and pinks. Colours all around.

You suck in deep breaths of the spring air, tasting the last dregs of dew and the floating pollen. You hear the council of sparrows hiding in the bushes and watch the pair of doves bobbing across the grass. Bees buzz between the blooming stems and insects flit back and forth through the air. The seasonal renewal is underway as a whole new world awakens.

Beneath the serenity, there is fear. This won’t last. This is just a brief respite from your desolation. A flicker of light in the dark.

So you bask in it as much as you can, for as long as you can. You can’t help but peek over at the french doors and wonder about what’s happening behind them. What is being said? Are Frigga and Odin still there? Is Loki still angry?

You cup your chin and take a sip. This is all you ever wanted. You only wish he would have listened to you. Why must someone else talk sense into him? Why can’t he just hear you?

Your vision hazes as you drift into the peaceful hue. The spring swallows you up and mutes your worries. You cling to that moment, knowing the end will come sooner than later.

The doors open and pierce the spring soliloquy. You look over as Loki steps out. His shirt is tucked in and he’s tried to comb his hair. Still, he looks out of sorts. His eyes are circled darkly and his cheek tics as his jaw clenches.

He watches you as he nears the table, standing across from you as he extends his long fingers to the iron surface. He takes a breath and looks around. He retracts his hand to rest on the back of the chair.

“May I?” He asks.

His request surprises you. That he would even want permission. After all, this is his home, all of this is allotted to you at his whim.

“Sure,” you sit back and let go of the teacup.

He drags the chair out and lowers himself. He bends his arms over the table and his head swivels again, as if searching for something. He clears his throat and turns straight. He stares at you as you peer down at the table.

“It’s beautiful out,” he comments, “the tulips are coming in.”

You nod, “yeah, they’re pretty.”

He exhales and shifts in the chair. He taps his fingertips then weaves his fingers through each other. He stills his fidgeting.

“How is your tea?”

You look down at the cup, mostly untouched. You raise your eyes to meet him and purse your lips.

“It’s fine,” you answer, “what’s going on?”

He circles his thumbs around each other and pushes his shoulders up before forcing the tension out, “I thought I would… come enjoy the garden with you, pet.”

“Oh,” you utter.

“Oh,” he echoes staunchly. “Unless, I am disturbing you?”

You shake your head, “I thought you wanted me to go inside…”

He frowns and lowers his chin, “I…” he begins then unclasps his hands and sits straight. He rests his elbows on the armrests and his cheek strains, “I want you to be safe.”

You nod and look at your lap as you think, “your parents said Thor is gone.”

“Yes, so he has been cast out. For how long, I can’t be certain,” he sighs, “but he is not my only worry.”

“What else—”

“If I’d not discovered your escape, you would’ve fallen and hurt yourself worse.”

“Loki, I… I’m sorry but I couldn’t–”

“And you do not eat when I bring you food. You hardly sleep.”

“What about you?” You toss back as you raise your head.

His lips thin, “yes, what about me. I am just as guilty in all this, I see that now.”

You’re quiet as you consider his admission. It’s a rare moment. Not exactly victory, but a consolation. As much as you can hope for.

“I appreciate all you have done but I… don’t want to be a burden anymore,” you say, “if that’s how you feel about me, I think we’d both be better off if I left.”

He goes rigid and his throat tightens, “pet…”

“Or maybe I could just be the maid again. We could go back to that. That would be okay.”

He huffs and hangs his head. He brings his fingertips together as he seems to argue with himself. Slowly, he lifts his head, “no, that simply won’t do.”

Your face falls, “please don’t lock me up again.”

Your eyes gloss as you pout, begging him wordlessly. He winces as his mouth slants, one way then the other. He mulls on your plea.

He tilts his head one way then the other, stretching out his neck. He slips his elbows off the armrest and grips the chair, pushing himself to his feet. He rolls his shoulders straight and rounds the table. He stops beside you and lowers himself down to a knee. You watch him, confused.

He takes your hand and draws it over the side of the chair. He holds it in his, stroking it as he peers up at you.

“You cannot be a burden or the maid, and you certainly may not leave,” he says, “you are going to be my wife.”

You blink. You’re not sure you heard him right. He squeezes your hand and you look down at his grip.

“Loki?” You babble.

“I haven’t picked a ring, I’m sorry,” he pulls your hand to him, leaning in to kiss it, petting it, “but perhaps you might help in that.” He puts his other knee down and moves even closer, “we will have a lot of planning to do, won’t we, darling?”

He angles to lean his head against your arm, keeping his hand on yours. You’re paralysed. He’s proposing to you but there isn’t any room for your rejection. Like all other things, it’s a command. You have to keep yourself from answering, ‘yes, Mr. Laufeyson.’

You look down at his dark tresses and let out the breath racked beneath your ribs, “I’ve never been to a wedding.” The statement is hollow and numb. You don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles and lifts his head to grin up at you, “well, how exciting that you’re first will be your own.”

[ubbesbabymama]

Their friend is pregnant, pt. 2.

↳ Pairing. Hvitserk The Berserker, Sigurd Snake in The Eye, Ivar The Boneless.

↳ Summary. How would they react to their dear friend being pregnant. [I imagine this with them having the same kind of friendship that Ragnar had with Athelstan but with the reader].

↳ Warnings. Violence, death, abusive relationships, smut/mention of sex.

↳ Note. A second part so I could write the ones that are left because is just so much fun to write this plot.

Part one.

Hvitserk The Berserker.

He adores you, he genuinely thinks you’re the only perfect person on earth and he would do anything to protect you from anybody, even himself.

He is busy between a thrall’s legs, making everything in his power to make her scream his name, thrusting like a madman when he hears his name being called and he stops right away. That’s not the thrall’s voice.

“Hvitserk,” You sob and he can’t help but to pull out and push the woman, running to you while fixing his pants.

“Come here, come here,” He mumbles, taking you in his arms and walking to another room that doesn’t smell like sex.

He sits on the floor in front of a bonfire with you on his lap, and you move around till your legs are around him just like he is around you. You move again and he grunts.

“D-Don’t move too much,” He whispers.

“O-Oh! I’m sorry, forgive—,” You try to move but he grips your thighs. “Hvitserk.”

“Forget everything else and tell me why are you crying,” He says. “Talk to me.”

“Why do I have to talk to you while your cock is poking into my backside?” You ask him and he grunts again, this time because of your stubbornness.

“That is because I got interrupted while I was getting it down, now, talk to me or I am going to take my axe and go look for the information myself.” He threatens.

You sigh and clean your face a little before looking at him.

“I am with child.”

“That’s not true,” He chuckles and panics when your eyes start to fill with tears, and he takes your face in his hands. “Wait— no, no, no sweat heart.”

“Y-You don’t believe me either,” You sob in his hands and he shakes his head.

“I thought it was another one of your pranks, I apologize little one,” You nod, sobbing. He frowns. “Either?”

“He kicked me out of the house… literally,” You whisper, rolling your dress to show him your scratched knees, you show him your hands and they’re scratched too. “He said I cheated on him, that a whore like me could find a man to breed me really fast just so I could trap—,”

You stop talking when Hvitserk moves you around, standing up and taking you with him. He puts his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the room and back to his room. In silence he takes off your dirty dress and tosses it to the side, he looks around for a moment and comes back with a shirt of him, he helps you put it on.

“I’m going to be right back, get under the covers,” He quietly says, you shake your head, and he sighs. “Under the covers, please.”

“You’re going to kill him.” You whisper.

“Of course, I’m going to kill him, for starters, I gave you that house, he has no right to kick you out, and second, while you’re with child?” He snorts with malice.

“Hvitserk,” He looks at you and holds your stare to let you know that he is not backing down. You nod to yourself and kiss his cheek. “I’ll wait for you awake.”

You know he is back when some thralls enter the room with the tub, he enters right behind them and you gasp, he is bathed in blood, from the hair to his boots.

“What in Odin’s green earth did you do to him?!” You ask alarmed, he shrugs and starts to take his clothes off in front of you and the thralls. “Hvitserk!”

“I tied him to a tree and started beating him,” He looks up slowly, his eyes cold. “I beat him till his last breath.”

“You’re insane,” You whisper, getting out of bed when he gets inside the tub. You start to undo his braids.

“For you, I can be worse than Ivar, you know this already.” He chants, not a single trace of regret on his face.

“Yeah well, you killed the abusive father of my child,” You roll your eyes. “So it’s safe to say that you’re now a father.”

He smirks.

“Great.”

Sigurd Snake In The Eye.

Everybody could see how much you mean to him, it was as obvious as the fact that the sun would shine every day. When it comes to you he knows no reason or shame, going as far as to beg if he needs to.

“I-I can’t find her,” He murmurs when all his brothers are gathered to hunt.

“Who?” Ubbe asks.

“What do you mean you can’t find her? It’s almost as if you live together,” Hvitserk jokes.

“I think her husband has something to do with her suddenly disappearing.” He swallows and just now everybody feels the tension in the air. “I-I need help, please.”

Suddenly Ivar starts crawling away and everybody looks at him, he stops and looks back directly at Sigurd.

“What are you doing there? We have to find her.” He grunts and in no time Sigurd is by his side.

That’s how much you mean to Sigurd, so much that even his younger brother whom he always argues about anything not dare to joke around.

And he finds you, in a small cabin deep in the woods, thanks to Hvitserk’s insight in the town he founds that your husband owns this cabin for when he goes hunting alone.

He enters the cabin and sucks a breath when he sees you in a corner hugging your legs. He takes one step and your husband comes out and pulls you by the hair, you yelp.

“If you get close I will kill them both!” He screams and Sigurd frown.

“Who’s them?” He whispers to himself, and you sob.

“You didn’t tell him? You’re carrying his child and you didn’t—,”

“Because it’s not his!” You cry, looking at Sigurd and his stare makes you stop trembling a little. You’re safe, Sigurd is here.

Suddenly an arrow enters from behind Sigurd, right on top of his head, and embedded right onto your husband’s head, him being so tall makes it easy for the archer to shoot without fearing it would hit you.

Sigurd looks behind him and nods to Ubbe, who just nods back and starts walking back with his brother, leaving him with you.

He opens his arms and watches how you run and jump on him, his arms sliding around you, one on your thigh and the other on your waist.

“I’m here now, shh…” He comforts you while walking till he leans on a wall. “Nobody can’t hurt you anymore.”

You sob on his neck and he hums.

“I’m tired,” You murmur and he nods.

He takes you back to the town and directly into his room and orders the thralls to prepare a bath for you. When everything’s ready he undresses you and lets you get inside the tub, he’s about to start looking for clothes for you but your grip on his hand stops him.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m getting in with you,” He says to calm you down and when he sees you expectant he undresses and gets inside too, behind you.

He starts to caress your belly, he supposed you haven’t seen your monthly blood and that’s why you know you’re with child since it’s not clear in your belly.

“You’re going to start living here,” He whispers in your ear. “So I can take care of you better.”

“You have obligations,” You whisper.

“And you’re the main one,” He hums. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

Ivar The Boneless.

Nobody understands how you can stand Ivar, with the man being borderline obsessed with you. The only reason why you can lay with men is that he is certain that he can’t satisfy a woman and he would rather be burned alive than disappoint you from all people, but other than that, he lets no man get close to you unless you directly tell him that you chose that man to warm your chambers, he has bodyguards for you, thralls for you, he gives you a quarter of everything he owns or gets. Even when he goes raiding everybody knows that a lot of the goods are yours and yours only. That’s how obsessed Ivar The Boneless is with you.

Of course, it’s almost impossible to hide things from him, more so with the people in town being so eager to bring him information about you just to be favored, so as soon as you’re being yelled at and tossed around by the Viking Ivar is notified.

“You think after three times you can already be with child?! Do you think I’m stupid?!” The man was yelling at you, but you weren’t backing down. No sir.

“After ONE time of laying together, I can already be with child, or do you think your seed is so weak you need more than once? even more than three? Poor you.” You mock and gasp when he pushes you, making you fall onto your backside, you whimper at the burn in your hands for breaking the fall.

“I should just kill you and that bastard right now!” He yells, and you spit on your side in response.

“Who?” You freeze, feeling chills run down your spine. That voice only means problems, and a lot of them. “Who are you going to kill? My woman?”

You feel him right beside you, leaning on his crutch. He looks down at you and nods and you nod back, slowly standing up.

“L-Lord I-Ivar,” The man stuttered.

“So? You’re going to kill my woman, you say?” Ivar says, his tone friendly but his eyes, oh those eyes.

“N-no, no my lord,” The man keeps stuttering. “It’s this woman who says she’s carrying my child.”

Ivar face snaps to the side, looking at you while anger starts to bubble in his system, a burning feeling in his chest, he squints his eyes at you and silently you start to pray to the gods for the life of the man.

“When I was hunting and you were keeping me company, that was your last month bleeding, right?” Ivar says and he’s not actually asking, he knows that information, for he’s the one you always go to when you’re in pain, but you nod anyways. “And he pushed you while you’re carrying a child?”

You nod again.

“Yes, Ivar.” The man grimaces when he hears you call Ivar by his name and without honorifics, why nobody told him he was laying with someone so important? “He did.”

Ivar’s face slowly turns to the man, and he grins.

“Now I have to decide whether you die—,”

“Ivar can I—,” You start but are interrupted.

“NO!” He snaps, pointing at you with his finger. “You do not get to save him from this, you do not get a saying this time!”

“Ivar,” Your own anger makes you grind your teeth. “Can I go home? My feet are hurting and I need to get a healer for my hands.”

He blinks and looks down at your bloody hands from the fall before, he sighs, feeling bad at the way he talked to you when you weren’t even trying to help the man.

“I’ll finish this quickly,” Ivar says and in the blink of an eye, the man is being dragged by Ivar’s men while crying and babbling apologies.

You don’t let Ivar say anything more and start walking home and when you get there you ask for a healer and after being done with your hands and a quick checkup on your overall health you ask for a hot bath.

“It’s ready, my lady,” The thrall says just in time for Ivar’s entrance, she gasps and starts to tremble.

“You can go now, don’t come back again, you may take the tub out tomorrow,” You whisper tiredly.

Ivar is covered in blood and even you get a chill run down your spine. It looks grotesque, never has he had so much blood on him from just one person, he looks demonic even.

“I’m—,” He starts but you lift your hand.

“I honestly don’t want to hear it,” You murmur, starting to get undressed.

He looks at you with attention, watching you moan when the hot water gets in contact with your skin.

“I’m sorry.” He finishes what he was saying earlier and you roll your eyes.

“I’m with child, I got pushed by the father of the child and then he got killed by you and I imagine it was in the most animalistic way you could think of,” You tell him coldly. “I’m tired, I didn’t need you snapping at me when I was the one being mistreated, you may go now if that’s going to happen again.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he says, he looks emotionless, his voice too. But you know that those words coming out of Ivar’s mouth is already a blessing.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“I’m not leaving.” He says, crawling more closer.

“You look scary.”

“I’ll get clean after you tell me how are you,” He whispers and you sigh.

“What am I going to do now?” You whisper to him, getting close to him.

“Nothing, you don’t need to do anything,” He whispers. “Just let me take care of you. Both of you.”

“You already do that,” You smile.

He smiles and leans, giving you a soft kiss although you could tell it doesn’t mean anything more.

“Yes I do, until the gods call me to Valhalla.”

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello!

Request: can you do a RoR x Fem Hiccup Haddok reader from How to Train your Dragon, maybe interacting with the Norse gods seeing as Hiccup is a Viking.

Hope you are feeling better and if you can’t do the request that’s ok.

-It was intimidating for you at first, when you first arrived in Valhalla. You remember how your dad would tell you all about the great warriors and feasts that Valhalla would hold, and that only the best warriors would go there.

-If it had been before you met Toothless, you would have been beside yourself with anxiety, not believing that you belonged there. However, you earned your place, joining your tribe and the dragons that were once your enemies together.

-You met many other warriors of the past, many who had grand legacies, names that struck fear into the hearts of others, while your name was a little… not. You grew to appreciate your name, as it was part of who you were, just because your name was weak doesn’t mean that you were weak, you proved that time and time again, risking life and limb alongside Toothless to keep those you cared about and your home safe.

-The gods were the ones who were the most taken by you, surprisingly, as they were impressed with your dragon training skills! Even as gods, they sometimes had difficulties with dragons, let alone training them.

-Their praise and admiration did make you feel better about belonging here, it made your confidence grow!

-Brunnhilde enlisted your aid on training the dragons in Valhalla, and you were happy to help, eager for the chance to prove yourself!

-Odin was very impressed, watching you work with the dragons, acting and moving almost like you were a dragon yourself, and you didn’t let your prosthetic get in the way at all! When Odin first was watching you, you were nervous, as it felt like he was inspecting you, making sure you were good enough.

-Once you had the dragons docile enough were others, in small groups, could approach, Odin was first in line, as he was impressed and wanted to see the results of your hard work.

-Thor was another one who was impressed with your skills, but unlike Odin, you weren’t scared of Thor, which surprised him, and he was appreciative of it, because to you he felt kind of like a big brother, one who would watch out for you, and you just vibed with him.

-Loki was… an adventure himself, he was such a gremlin, constantly pulling pranks, making the dragons scatter and panic, and while you were scrambling to make sure they didn’t cause any damages, Loki was howling with laughter.

-Loki would cling to you, telling you that he was bored, and you were more than happy to provide him with some entertainment.

-He wasn’t expecting you to have him sitting on top of a dragon, on a saddle, moments later, holding onto a pair of reigns, “Uhh Y/N- are you sure this is a GOOD IDEA?!” As he was speaking you tapped the dragon’s back, telling it to go and it took to the skies, calling out happily.

-Brunnhilde and Thor were both trying hard to hide their laughter, failing miserably while Goll was clutching at her stomach, finding it hysterical.

-When Loki landed, he was pouting for a while, doing his best to ignore you, but making sure that you knew that he was ignoring you, acting like a child before you laughed warmly, “You asked me for something fun- that’s fun to me!”

-The Valkyries were the ones you worked the most with, as they were learning how to ride dragons, to give themselves options between their winged horses and dragons, to be prepared for anything that could happen.

-You had never imagined that you would have been accepted into Valhalla, but you weren’t complaining, you had new friends, new dragons to train and fly with, and you got the joy of teaching others how to do it as well.

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) Love Story in " The Tale of Asgardian princess and The Monkey king"

(And Yes It's base of The monkey King Havoc in Heaven, 1964 style)

Long time Ago, In the great realm of Asgard Ruled by The Allfather Himself but There's Troubles brewing in the beautiful Realm. Thats Right, His Grand Daughter Name "Princess Saphira Lorraina Fox" of Sakutopia and Asgard just Founded Out Her Horrible Husband name "Daniel Jamerson Rooster" Just Got caught Making Love With another Woman Name "Barbra Minx" and Boy, Saphira wasn't too happy and Not only that He Murdered Saphira's Unborn daughter because he wanted a Son so much. Saphira Founded it out that Daniel and Barbra is been a couple this whole time and they Planned to Get Saphira produce a male heir and Left saphira with the child in their arms.. Saphira was Not only angry but she was in Rage and demands to be on Trials so, she can Avenge her beloved Daughter Name "Serena" and Vowed to get Justice and Punish Daniel For His Sins and His crime as well. Then Odin, Thor and Loki was stood trials against Daniel and Saphira testify against him and told Her uncles and grandfather about what he did, His abuse and his Obsession of having a son and betrayal as well.. Odin was Infuriated at Daniel and he finds Daniel guilty for his crime. He decided to Banish Daniel and Barbra to the Frozen Realm home of the frost giants and He cursed Daniel and Barbra that they will never get ability to have children for good.. When Odin Cast those two Out To the frozen realm, Saphira finally got justice for her daughter.. Sadly, her heart is broken and wounded by Daniels Horrendous Actions. At her Chambers at the balcony She Rained tears at Midgard, Her parents was worried about Saphira's broken and Wounded heart, Then Odin founded out that Serena's soul is Safe by the Hands of Hel, Saphira's cousin and Loki's Daughter and Ruler of Nifelheim, Hela Foretold Odin That Saphira Will get Her daughter back But Only With a New Man Who is Worthy for Saphira's heart and mend it with love, Then Odin has the Idea and Told Saphira That She Must Travel to Find someone Worthy for it and then he said that the Jade Emperor from Heavens in China is Invited her to the Banquet within 3 days, So Saphira accepted and she Got On Sleipnir and rides off to Midgard and travel Far and wide until She landed on

the Land Of Flower Fruit Mountain. She was Curious about this place as she Wore a beautiful White Cloak with Golden Details, While Riding in the Forest of flower fruit mountain She discovered The Bunch Of monkeys in Clothing Collecting fruits and others tells Stories Until they said "The King is here, the King is here!" Saphira had Witness two Guards Opening the Water Fall like a curtain and Lo and behold

The Monkey king appeared with his armor, She was amazed to see him leaping and meeting His people and then The monkey king said after Sitting on his Throne,"Keep Practicing Boys!" She watched his people practice in Combat and all, She had never seen any monkeys Learning to fight in combat until She sees the Monkey king laughs and shows the combat skills with a sword with rings.. but the Sword broke and The monkey king was Frustrated that he can't show combat with a proper weapon.. But the old monkey told Him that there is a weapon at the east sea.. So The Monkey king decided to go there and get it.. Saphira waited Until he got out and shows his people his Weapon, it was a Ruyi jingu bang Staff. She was amazed about it But as she began to Ride off One of them Spotted Her and Shouted Saying Like "There's a Stranger Riding a Strange Horse!!" Saphira Gasp and began to try to Ride off.. But it was Stopped by His People Surrounded her and then The Monkey king made an appearance and he said..

[idksmtms]

You Are Not One of Us (Poseidon x Norse Goddess!reader) - Part 7

Full Request Part

Part 6 << PART7 >> Part 8

AN: I am so so sorry that this took me so long! I’m ngl, I lost a bit of inspiration for this for a while but I kinda forced myself to sit down and write it and it felt really good to finish something I felt I had given up on! I tried to make it a big one to make up for all the time I was gone! 

I also went back and read all the Anon messages I got from so many people and they really helped me, so thank you to absolutely everyone and all the anons who contributed ideas. I def included some in this part (and the coming parts) so if you spot it, I hope you enjoy it! 

Also, for the timing of his birthday versus when he started at Yancy Academy, IDK guys, I made it up. I don’t actually know about when he started versus when his birthday was so just… let it go ig. 

ALSO, I copied the dialogue for the diner scene almost verbatim from the show so I can’t take credit for writing that, but the descriptions attached to the dialogue are still mine. 

PS. I got a new divider that I love heheheh 

Also, I really hope y’all notice the significance of each of his birthday presents because I worked so unnecessarily hard on those. 

Summary: In one place, Percy grows up with his Aunt Sally, dealing with the struggles of being a demigod child. In another, you try to pretend you haven’t just given up your son and a life you have always wanted. Neither world is going as one would hope. 

Word count: 7.3k

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, profanity, innuendo, age gap (even tho they are both thousands of years old), personal insecurity, insecurity about one’s parenting, absentee parents technically, light angst, Percy believing there is something wrong with him, negative view of one’s own ADHD and dyslexia, any warnings associated with Percy’s adventures, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not claim to own any of the Percy Jackson and the Olympians characters. I do not own any pictures used nor do I claim to do so. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

When you returned to Valhalla, you tried to put on a brave face. Your return was denoted by a grand feast, and the Aesir were simply so happy to see you return no one questioned the way you occasionally turned away to brush off stray tears or gazed at Yggdrasil as if you wanted to see into one of the worlds nestled in its branches. But aside from all of that, you were rather good at pretending to be happy. You drank a few sips of ale for every mug Thor drained, you danced half the night with Baldur, and you sat cosied up with Loki, ready to listen to whatever story of his latest shenanigans he wished to bestow on you. Everyone was happy. Things were as they were meant to be. 

As the sun began to creep toward the horizon and the Aesir made their way out of the grand hall, you found yourself walking with Odin back to your old quarters in Valhalla. When he first came up to you as you stood from the feast table, he had wrapped you up in his arms, whispering how he was happy at your return. Even now, he occasionally turns to look at you with his remaining eye and smiles gently. The walk was peaceful, quiet, a stillness in the air at that hour just before dawn. 

“Do you know what I gave up my eye for?” He asked out of the blue. You furrowed your eyebrows, tilting your head and looking at him almost incredulously. 

“Of course, all the gods know, you sacrificed your eye for all the knowledge of the world.” 

“Hm,” he nodded. Then he stopped in the hallway and turned to fully face you. You clasped your hands in front of you, heart suddenly beating just a little faster. “Did you know that this also means I know about Perseus?” 

You could suddenly hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could see Odin in front of you, but you also couldn’t. Your hands were sweaty and your dress was suddenly tight around your ribs. You looked up at him, shallow breaths blowing from your lips. But then Odin smiled, a small sad smile that somehow broke your heart just that little bit more. 

“I am the only one that knows, and it should be kept that way.” He reached out and caressed your cheek, and you closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek that he wiped away. “If it were different, I would have cherished meeting him.” Then he pulled away and walked back in the direction of the feasting hall. You listened to his footsteps fade away, before entering the room you had left behind for millenia. 

Every year, without fail, it rained on Percy’s birthday. When he first noticed, he thought it meant something special. That there was something magical out there, wishing him well. Whatever higher power was out there, they knew he loved to swim, to be in the water, and they sent the rain just for him. As he grew, he began simply chalking it up to weather patterns. August was just the time of year when rain happened upon the city. It wasn’t anything special, this was simply the one part of his life where he was lucky. 

Sally knew it was a blessing. She knew it was his father, celebrating the day in the best way he knew how, sending a message to Percy in the only way he could. She always took Percy outside, regardless of if the rain became a storm. She knew Percy would be safe in the rain. They made it a habit to go onto the fire-escape when the rain was at its worst, and they would spin around and dance and laugh. 

In all the time Sally had spent raising Percy, through all the challenges and the struggles, she never failed to notice how alike to his mother he was. Percy, seemingly since he was born, was obsessed with the colour blue. He only wanted to eat blue food, only wanted to wear blue clothes (it took a lot of convincing to introduce other colours to his wardrobe) and all the toys he chose were blue. He had an immense sweet tooth, and every time she watched him bite into a blue chocolate chip cookie, she fondly remembered the afternoon she had sat with his mother and watched the ravenous pregnant woman devour an entire tray of those same cookies. He smiled brightly and constantly, always happy and mischievous, just like his mother. But he was also trapped like his mother. He also cried like his mother. And most of all, both good and bad, he loved just as sincerely, as fiercely as his mother. 

Every year on Percy’s birthday, this fierce love was demonstrated. A surprise present would arrive, wrapped in shiny blue wrapping paper with only ‘To Percy Jackson’ written on it in loopy, elegant handwriting. Each year the box contained something different, something odd but somehow heartwarming and special. Sometimes he didn’t know why in the world someone would send him these things, but they felt important, and he kept them lined up on the chest of drawers opposite his bed, and counted them each night before he went to bed. At least when he was still living at home. He even had presents from years he didn’t remember, going all the way from his first birthday to his latest. 

On his first birthday, he had apparently received a spool of golden thread. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why someone would give a one year old thread. It’s a choking hazard! What were they thinking?! But it was beautiful and shiny, and sometimes he thought it might just be real gold, but he didn’t want to find out if it was. It somehow felt… more than just something for money. He used it only for the most important things, but however much he seemed to unravel, the thread never seemed to end. 

On his second birthday, the package was smaller. Sally sat him up and unwrapped it in front of him to reveal a little toy throne. It was small, about the size of an adult hand, and made of hard resin. It was so intricate, coloured like the ocean, even white and frothy in some places, and looked as if it was made with the whorls of the ocean. It had been his favourite little toy for a long time. 

His third birthday present was simply a feather. It was beautiful, and no matter how much he crushed the fibres or threw it around, it never lost its perfect shape. It came with a flat metal stand that had a little foam rectangle in the centre so he could stick the tip of the feather into it and leave it as a decoration. The metal stand was simply labelled ‘Pegasus’ and three year old Percy staunchly believed it was a feather from the wing of a Pegasus. Even at the ripe old age of thirteen he sometimes still liked to hope it was a feather from Pegasus, simply so he could believe that magic existed. 

For his fourth birthday, he received a framed painting. Even at four years old he thought it was weird, and he still believed it was an absolutely insane present to get a four year old. A painting? Seriously? It was beautiful though, and he appreciated it a lot more once he was older than he did at the time. He didn’t know where it was supposed to show, there was no date and no artist’s signature. The edges showed that the viewer was looking through the mouth of a cave onto some type of secret hidden lake. Trees surrounded the lake, and it had the most beautiful clear water. The artist had even depicted the rocks at the bottom, and sometimes, in the quietest and stillest moments of the day, if he looked really hard at the painting, he could almost see the water lapping at the shore. He could almost hear the gentle chirp of birds and the soft rustle of leaves. The entire painting always made him feel so odd, as if he could feel someone’s else's memories, someone else’s feelings. Someone had been happy there once, but now they only looked at it with sadness, as if a wonderful day by the lake had been ruined by a fight in the car on the way home. 

His fifth birthday present was just as odd as the rest of them. He still didn’t quite understand why someone had gifted him five oysters with pearls inside of them. He didn’t believe the pearls were real (that was the only reason he hadn’t pawned or sold them off so he could get some extra money for his Aunt Sally) simply because he had never seen an oyster like that. No one had, not even google. He thought they were pretty though, and kept them lined up on the back of his nightstand rather than on the chest of drawers. 

His favourite birthday present, from all those he had ever received, came on his sixth birthday. It was a conch shell, bigger than both the palms of his hands put together, with a dark blue colour that slowly faded to white as it twisted in on itself. Normally when he held it up to his ear, he could hear the sea, but unlike any other conch he had ever listened to. He could hear waves crashing, he could hear the ruffling and snuffling sort of sound they made as they frothed onto the shore. He could hear the swoosh as the waves pulled back. He could even hear the distant sort of gurgling a person hears when they’re underwater in the ocean, the sound of water moving about you. But then, at the darkest parts of the night, when he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason and pressed the shell to his ear, he could hear a gentle voice whispering ‘I love you’. It was soft, but calming and loving, the kind of ‘I love you’ a father whispers to his son just as he puts him to bed. He had never heard the voice before, but secretly he always wished it was somehow the voice of his own father. He tried not to think about that as much anymore. His father simply wasn’t here. 

A little zombie looking figurine arrived for his seventh birthday. This one felt a little more kid-appropriate, and he had loved playing with it when he was still into action figures. For a while he hadn’t known what character it was supposed to be, because while it looked like a zombie, it didn’t really look like the zombie figurines he had seen some of the other kids play with. The little circle that connected the two feet of the figurine was engraved with the word ‘Draugr’ and Aunt Sally had had to google that for him. The stories had scared him so much that for a while he had hidden the figure in the back of his toybox. 

By the time his eighth birthday had rolled around, he had begun to grow an interest in Greek mythology and the stories of Greek heroes. When he received a little storybook on Perseus and his adventures, he had asked Sally if she was the one sending him the secret presents. It had to be his Aunt Sally. She knew he liked Greek mythology, she had been the one to tell him that he was named after Perseus. Sure, the earlier gifts had been really weird, but maybe she had just become a better gift-giver over time? But Aunt Sally denied it, and when they opened the book, a little picture had been put in as a bookmark. It depicted a cabin high up on the cliffs of the fjords, small but homely looking, and it was simply marked with the word Norway in the bottom corner in that same loopy handwriting. Sally had simply replied “see, it can’t be from me because I’ve never even been to Norway. Plus, kid, have you ever seen me write that neatly?” He had sat there and read the entire book, pushing through even though the letters bounced around and sometimes he had to look completely away to be able to try and focus again. He kept the picture in the book and the book on his nightstand as well. Though he had read it countless times, thumbed each page a million times, the book still looked good as new. 

On his ninth birthday he got… a jar of sand. He was pretty disappointed at first, staring at it for a whole minute after he had taken it out of the wrapping. But then he saw that a little label had been pasted onto the top of the metal lid of the jar that simply said ‘Montauk’ and he realised it must be from the beach in front of the cabins they went to every year. It was seemingly sentimental, and it had made Aunt Sally smile all sad and happy and teary that he had told her to keep it in her room, so it would stay safe. 

On his tenth birthday, he only received an envelope. It was made of the same shimmery blue paper as the wrapping of all the other gifts he had ever received, and it had the same loopy handwriting, but it had been pushed under the door. Aunt Sally usually got her letters from the box downstairs, he had thought it was weird, but she had told him not to worry, that this must be special because it was his birthday. The only thing in the envelope was a picture. It was square, and about the size of a polaroid, but glossy like it had been taken by a digital camera and printed at some fancy shop. He couldn’t quite tell what it was at first. It looked like it was taken underwater, he could see little flecks of seaweed floating and sand that had been kicked up by the waves and little bubbles here and there. He could see the sandy floor as well, the way some of it was mid-movement with the waves. ‘Midnight on Montauk - where the water meets the sand’ was written on the back, and he thought it was weird that he had gotten two gifts from Montauk now. Nevertheless, he pinned the picture to the corkboard above his chest of drawers. 

On his eleventh birthday he got a gold coin. He was so excited at first. This was the first time he had ever gotten money as a present, let alone a frickin’ gold coin! He had even promised Aunt Sally he would take her out for ice cream with the money from the coin. But then he had looked at it again and realised that it was stamped with a trident on both sides. He had suddenly deflated, thinking it was some kind of gimmick coin they sold at souvenir shops (this gift-giver seemed to be way too sentimental) but Aunt Sally had quickly pressed it into his palm and told him to keep it very very safe. He kept it on him at all times now. At least some of his jeans had that little seemingly useless pocket, making it easy for him to carry it around. 

His last birthday, the one right before everything went wrong for the millionth time and got him sent to Yancy Academy, had brought a flat box filled with shredded paper. Nestled inside it was a framed weather report from the day he had been born. At the top was the cut out of a headline ‘Largest Storm to Ever Hit Montauk and all of New York’. Below it, there were a bunch of different images, from graphs about the intensity of the rainfall to satellite images of the eye of the storm and the area it covered. He thought it was kind of funny, and he put it up proudly on the chest of drawers. That day was the first time in a long time he had thought the rain on his birthday really meant something again. Maybe it wasn’t something special for him, maybe it was just the weather remembering the storm it had put on that day, and sending some rain in its memory. But it meant something. 

Grover heard whispers in his dreams. He never quite remembered what they were, never quite remembered what they said, but he knew that something whispered to him in his sleep. A woman, a soft, lilting voice that sounded just out of reach, was all that he had gleaned thus far. He didn’t know if the forces were good or bad, where the voice came from, but whenever he awoke there was a small niggling feeling inside him that he should be doing something. Deep in the pit of his stomach he felt like he had to be outside Camp Half-Blood, had to be chasing something or maybe finding something. It was an itch that no other satyr duty seemed to satiate. No amount of berries collected, animal cages cleaned, campfires attended made him forget the voice, forget the desire to follow its orders, whatever they may be. 

When he got his next mission to escort a demigod back to the camp, everything seemed to click into place inside him. When he was told that he would be responsible for bringing Percy Jackson safely back to the camp, it was like the gods themselves had come in and soothed whatever had been writhing inside him. This was what he had been waiting for. This was what the whispers had commanded for him. And somehow, he knew that this was the most important journey in his entire life… 

Three days before Percy’s twelfth birthday, a blue butterfly landed on his hand as he sat outside his latest school. It was the end of his first official week at Yancy Academy, and the school was rather… daunting. All the kids looked at him like he was dirt beneath their shoes and nothing seemed to be clicking with him. He was trying his best. When the kids whispered about him, he ignored it. When they started messing with his things, he just asked his teachers for new notebooks and moved on. Whatever they did, he chose to try peace and quiet. He didn’t want to make life even more difficult for his Aunt Sally, she was already doing everything she could to make sure he had a decent school to go to; this was their last chance and he wasn’t going to be the one that screwed it up. 

He sighed and rested his elbows on his crossed legs, staring out at the yard. If nothing else, at least Yancy had a nice garden to look at. He hadn’t noticed the fluttering little creature until it was directly in his line of sight. It took a few turns around in front of his face before landing directly on the tip of his nose. The little legs were slightly ticklish and he breathed out of his mouth to resist the urge to sneeze. 

It was beautiful. It almost glowed in the light, like a haze was surrounding its edges, and he reached up to gently touch the tip of its wing. It shattered right in front of his eyes, like a glass breaking against the floor. The little pieces floated all around and landed on his clothes, sticking to his jeans. He stared at his lap, wide eyed. What the- He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths in, a technique one of the many councillors had taught him to try and re-centre himself in the world. When he opened his eyes again, the pieces were still there, like glitter all over his clothes, but they were beginning to fade. 

Percy stared at his clothes, at the fading pieces of a butterfly that had somehow flown directly to him then shattered like glass, and stood up with a determination to forget this ever happened. He shook his head, as if to shake his brain into action. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. No one would believe him anyway. This was just another pegasus in the window. He wouldn’t speak of it until the next time he was at home. Aunt Sally could calm him down, Aunt Sally would make him feel better and they would solve this. There was just something fundamentally wrong with him, they needed to fix it soon. With a clench of his fist, he walked back inside, only to bump directly into someone who quickly introduced themselves as Grover Underwood….

“And then Grover beat me, Aunt Sally!” Percy told her excitedly as they sat at the dining table ravenously devouring stacks of blue pancakes. Sally smiled down at the boy, reaching forward and ruffling his curly hair as he shoved another forkful into his mouth. 

“Grover sounds awesome, I’m glad you guys found each other,” she told him happily, pretending like the satyr hadn’t already introduced himself as Percy’s guardian. “If you want, you can invite him up here today, we can have a little birthday party.” 

“Nah, todays about you and me Aunt Sally,” he smiled brightly up at her, syrup painting the corners of his mouth, and she stood up to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Alright then mister, have I got plans for you this weekend! I was gonna get us passes for the waterpark today but I knew it was gonna rain so it’s been postponed for tomorrow. Today will start with a swim at the indoor pool in a country club in Manhattan! Someone I know gave me her pass for the weekend,” Sally giggled, reaching out to high five Percy as he exclaimed ‘no way!’. 

“Is it Denise? I love Denise,” Percy asked excitedly, momentarily forgetting his plate. 

“No, I mentioned to one of my regular customers that it’s your birthday this weekend and that you love to swim so she got us signed up as her guests for the weekend!” Sally explained, smiling triumphantly. 

Though she always tried her hardest, sometimes she felt like Percy missed out on a better life because she didn’t make enough money. But Percy simply jumped up and hugged her tightly, whispering a ‘thank you’ against her ear. 

“Hold on, you haven’t even heard the entire plan!” She exclaimed, laughing as he pulled away and raised his hands as if in surrender. “Ok, so, then we’re gonna go get ice cream, I found this cool place near the country club that has a bunch of blue ice creams and I thought we could get a scoop of each so we have those cones piled with like ten scoops. Then we’ll come back here for a mov-” 

There was a knock at the door. Sally frowned for a second, turning to the door, but there was no other sound and she looked back to Percy as something dawned on her. She smiled gently, a rather wistful look in her eyes all of a sudden, and got up from where she was sitting adjacent to him. 

“That must be your special present.” Percy swallowed his latest too-big mouthful and got up from the table to meet Aunt Sally in the hallway. 

It was cube shaped this time, about the size of both his palms put together, and it had simply been left in front of their door. Sally brought the box inside and they stood by the window to look at it in the dim grey light from outside. It was covered in that same shiny blue wrapping paper as every other year, and his name was written in that same loopy style with a fresh black pen. His face was contorted in confusion and he took it from Sallys hands, ripping through the wrapping paper to the baby blue cardboard box beneath. He opened that too and Sally watched on curiously as he pulled out something wrapped in bubble wrap. Percy pulled the little pieces of tape holding it together and unfolded the sheet of wrapping to find a snowglobe nestled inside. 

The little stand that the orb was perched on was a blue so dark it was almost black, and smooth, without any engraving or description of the scene inside the ball. The globe itself showed a little scene of what looked like a campground, with lots of cabins and a big bonfire in the middle. It even had a little sign pointing in different directions, and had an open-air pavilion near the edge. It was cute, a little fancy, but he had no idea why in the world someone would send this to him. He had never been to camp before, but especially not this camp, whatever it was. He held it up to Sally and frowned at it. 

“I have no idea where this is,” he told her, but she was staring at it so intensely that he paused. Percy raised an eyebrow and pushed it toward her. “You know where this is? Have you been here before?” At first Sally didn’t answer, because yes, she knew where it was, she knew exactly what the snow globe was showing her, and she knew that it was a message. It meant that soon, she would have to say goodbye to Percy, and soon Percy would know everything she had been hiding from him his entire life. 

“It’s a campground, right?” She asked nonchalantly, “it’s cute though, I like it. Keep it on your dresser, I’m sure one day you’ll know more about it.” And she shrugged as if that day wasn’t coming very soon. 

Percy shrugged in return and went to his room to put the snowglobe on the dresser. A beam of sunlight had broken through the clouds and sparkled in the rain right onto his dresser. The water in the painting looked like it was moving again, and a phantom wind ruffled the fibres on the feather. He put the snowglobe between them carefully, directly in the light of the sun, and a little bit of glitter in the globe shined directly onto his eye. He squinted and bent down to look at it again. There, hidden behind one of the cabins because of the way he had been holding it earlier, was a tiny blue butterfly. It was so small it was easy to miss, but it looked exactly like the butterfly that had come to him. Percy felt his heart begin to race. Surely this was a coincidence. He blinked and rubbed his eyes roughly, then looked down at the snowglobe again. It was still there. The butterfly almost looked like it flapped its wings in the sunlight. No, surely not, this was just another sign that he was going crazy, that there was something really wrong with him. 

Percy shoved the snowglobe behind the painting and walked right back out to find Aunt Sally. She was sitting on the sofa waiting for him, smiling when he came over to her, but quickly her lips drooped into a frown at the look on his face. 

“Hey buddy, what’s wrong?” She asked, pulling him down to sit beside her. 

“Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. It’s happening again, it’s exactly like the horse on the rooftop and I-I don’t kno-” 

“Hey. Ok, let’s take a deep breath. Ok, good, one, two, three, four, ok now big release. Alright, good, now, start from the beginning.” She gently cupped his cheek for a moment before folding her hands in her lap and watching his face. 

“I was sitting in the garden at Yancy, I don’t know, I’d had kind of a crummy day, I guess, but then suddenly this butterfly came fluttering to me. Aunt Sally, I have never seen a butterfly like that. It’s like it wasn’t real. It was all shiny and like-like it was glowing? I don’t know, it just didn’t seem like it actually existed. But it came right up to me and landed on my nose. And I thought that was so cool, so I kinda just reached up and touched it. I mean, I didn’t even really touch it, the tip of my finger kinda just brushed it, but then it burst. I don’t even know, it shattered like it was made of glass. And that’s crazy because that’s not possible. Animals don’t shatter like that, nothing real shatters like that and just disappears. It broke into glitter and was all over me! I was trying to brush it off but it-it just wouldn’t come off, and then slowly, it just started to… fade away. Just like that. Ugh, I don’t know Aunt Sally, I seriously think there’s something wrong with me. I mean, it’s not normal to be seeing visions, even I know that.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I believe you,” she added simply, staring at him as if everything he had just said was the most important words to ever have come out of someone’s mouth. 

“What?” Percy tilted his head and looked at her with a frown, as if suddenly she was the crazy one, not him. 

“I believe you. I believe that that happened to you, but we’ll talk about that some other time.” She smiled sadly at him, reaching out to gently brush the hair away from his forehead. Percy scoffed, pulling back from her slightly. 

“What does that even mean? You just said you believed me, we need to talk about it now.” 

“Percy, when the time is right, we’ll talk about it,” Sally sighed, knowing she couldn’t delay this conversation for much longer. She just wanted him to be a kid as long as possible… “But today is your birthday, and we’re supposed to be having fun before you go back to school. So come on,” she clapped her hands and stood up, “there is a bag of blue jelly beans sitting in the kitchen with your name on it!” She sing-songed. 

“But Aunt Sally-” 

“Percy. Some other time.” Her lips were set in a line and her tone left no more room for argument. Sally left him to go to her room to start packing a backpack with stuff they would need for the pool, while Percy made his way to the kitchen and began slowly chewing on blue jelly beans, his mind stuck on the butterfly. 

That night, after a long day of swimming, and a little too much sugar, Sally sat in the middle of little garden they had made on their floor of the fire escape and let the rain douse her. She had already shoved a hungover Gabe into bed and locked the door on him in case he wanted to come back out and make any noise that disturbed Percy, and now, under the rain, she let her thoughts wander to the past thirteen years. 

Life with Percy had been as beautiful and loving as it had been difficult. She had known, from the beginning, that Percy would not be a normal kid. As much as his parents wanted him to be, as much as she wanted it for him, it simply wouldn’t happen. He was too special, the product of two worlds too incomprehensible. 

She remembered all the calls to schools. He couldn’t sit still, he couldn’t learn, he was too ‘disruptive’, too ‘distracted’. Each time it boiled her blood, broke her heart, because he wasn’t even made for this world, but these people had the audacity to reduce this child to what they considered bad things. She remembered all the times he would cry, clinging to her with his little hands wondering why he couldn’t be like the other kids, why he couldn’t focus like other kids or why he couldn’t study like the other kids, why he didn’t have parents like the other kids… 

She remembered the first time she had told little Percy about his dad. How excited he had been to learn that somewhere out there, he did have parents, parents who loved him and wanted to be with him but for some inexplicable reason, couldn’t. She had seen the way he had slowly dismissed that childish hope as he grew up, how he stopped asking about his mom, how he stopped wondering if he looked like his dad. He never asked anymore. 

The day she had used the coin suddenly floated to the front of her mind as she wiped the water from her eyes. She remembered it vividly. It had been a bad day. The baddest of days at that point. Percy was struggling, and she was on edge. There was a storm. It was still the years when she had been scared of storms, when they reminded her of the day Percy was born, the fear in Y/n’s eyes, the pain in Poseidon’s. She had driven them away from yet another school and decided to stop at a diner for lunch. Maybe ice cream would improve Percy’s mood. 

They had eaten in silence, neither of them ready to talk to the other. She had tried to make a few jokes before the food came, hoping to lift Percy’s mood, but he had simply pushed the salt and pepper shakers around the table and mumbled answers to her. After that she had given up on her attempts and sat in silence, staring out of the window and stewing in her own struggles. Maybe this was her breaking point, she thought. Maybe this was the moment when she couldn’t raise Percy anymore. She was struggling, and the last thing she wanted to do was to ruin his life because she couldn’t cope with raising a godly child. What could she do? No one could understand her situation, she couldn’t even talk to anyone about it. Was this the time to send him to camp? Was it the time to let him go, for his sake? Tears had begun to prick at her eyes but she wiped them away as the server had come by. 

They had finished their mains, and she had ordered a sundae for Percy in as excited a voice as she could manage, glad to see a little smile begin to curl at his lips. The server had engaged with him as well, asking him what toppings he wanted and how many ‘extras’ to add before telling the chef he wanted chocolate sauce. She had smiled at the server in thanks before telling Percy to stay put as she got up from the stall and went to the bar to settle the bill. 

At the bar, she asked for a glass of tap water and the bill, and when the bartender had deposited both, she pulled a coin out of her pocket. It was gold, and had tridents embossed on both sides. Even though she’d had it for years now, it hadn’t lost its shine. She brought the cup of water closer to her and flipped the coin over it, watching it twist in the air before falling into the water with a little ‘plonk’. She closed her eyes and whispered two names to herself, over and over and over. A crack of thunder shook through the diner, as if the storm was right overhead. She opened her eyes and stared into the glass of water as the door to the diner opened and someone walked in. The stool beside her was pulled out, and someone settled onto it with a slight creak. The sleeve of their shirt brushed against hers and the smell of salty sea air suddenly seemed to waft around her. She closed her eyes and whispered one of the names again, but nothing changed. Tears pricked at her eyes again, and she stared ahead of her, unable, unwilling, to look at the man that had settled down beside her. 

“This isn’t fair,” she whispered, a tear escaping down her cheek. 

“No, it isn’t,” he replied quietly, his gruff voice comforting and painful at the same time. 

“And I am failing.” She clenched her hands around the cup of water at the uncomfortable truth of it all. More tears slipped out of her eyes now, easier than the first. 

“No, you’re not,” he answered instantly, and still neither of them looked at each other. For all anyone knew, they were strangers sitting beside each other at a bar. Sally closed her eyes and gulped, her eyes fluttering open as breathing became just that little more painful as she tried to keep a handle on herself. 

“I’m going to take him to camp,” she told him, releasing her grip around the glass of water and pushing it forward slightly. 

“Are you sure?” He asked simply, as if it was a casual decision, but she could still hear the gravity in the statement. 

“What choice do I have?” She whispered, “he and I living together in the city…” she paused, taking in a deep breath, “it’s starting to attract attention from your world.” He didn’t say anything, just pressed his lips together and stared at the floor behind the bar with an intensity that would make it crack if he truly wanted it to. “A winged horse followed him to school.” She let the statement settle into the air. “It saw him, he saw it. Sooner or later it’s not gonna be just pretty things that are following him,” she breathed out, shaking her head slightly and looking up to the ceiling as the tears pushed from her eyes again. 

It was so painful to sit here, mere steps from Percy, with the father he couldn’t meet. It was so painful, knowing that soon she would have to let him go, to let him fight his own battles. It was so painful knowing that there were forces much bigger than her little self, controlling everything, and making life so difficult for the beautiful little boy sitting just over there. 

“At camp, he will be safe,” she nodded to herself, taking a sharp breath in and staring at the ceiling, trying to convince herself that this was the best idea. 

“You don’t want him at camp,” he answered simply, as if he could look into her mind and see everything that she was thinking, as if he could look directly at her heart and see the immense amount of love she felt for that child. 

“No,” she breathed out painfully, “no, I don’t,” and she almost began crying with the words, clenching her eyes shut and shaking her head. 

“Tell me why,” he stated as he stared down at the wood of the bar but his attention was fully on her. 

“You don’t wanna know why,” she scoffed lightly, shaking her head and looking to the ceiling again. Then she smiled, a rueful, exasperated little smile as he let out a huff of a chuckle. 

“Probably not. But you have no one to say it to, and maybe that’s the most unfair part of it.” He paused, just for a moment, but her heart began to feel a little lighter somehow. “You say it, and I will listen.” They were silent, sitting together and listening to the quiet sounds of the bar, the clinking of spoons and glasses and plates, the rush of water inside the dishwasher. 

“I want him to know who he is, before your worlds try to tell him who they want him to be,” her voice was forceful, verging on spiteful. “He is better than that, he has better things in him than that.” She was full of conviction, this was a truth she knew better than anything else in the world. Poseidon continued staring at the bar as he spoke. 

“Then you have your answer. He’s going to go to school, and he’s going to learn things you can’t teach him there, and it’s going to be hard for the both of you. And it’s going to be torture for the both of you. But he will be stronger for it on the other side. His aunt raised him well.” And her tears flowed again, as if something in her chest released but brought with it a stabbing pain of everything that could not be. 

“Do you wanna talk to him?” She asked through tears, hoping against all hope that he would say yes. “I know you shouldn’t,” she began, trying to convince him somehow. “Maybe just hear his voice,” she whispered, but there was another crack of thunder in the sky, and Poseidon turned away, listening as if he could hear things she could not. 

“One day,” he simply whispered, and when she looked up to finally meet his eyes, to finally look at him again after so many years, no one was sitting there. 

She sat at the bar for another few minutes, staring into the glass of water as if it had all the answers, but not one reason floated up for the absence of the boy’s mother. 

For thirteen years, you watched your son’s life in snippets. It was like a faulty connection on a tv, darkness one moment, then a flash of Percy smiling as he opened the new mystery present that had been left at his door. A moment of beauty and excitement as you watched him uncover pieces of the world that you and his father had created, the world that led to his being. Then darkness once more, a year of knowing nothing about his life no matter how hard you tried, then Percy crying in Sally’s arms, sobbing about his latest struggles at school, and a pain so sharp in your heart that you almost abandoned secrecy to go to him, then darkness again. You didn’t know why it was like this. Why you didn’t get to watch over him as you so hoped before he was born, why even a distant relationship was stolen from you. You spent days climbing over the roots of Yggdrasil, peering into different worlds and hoping to see Percy living his life. Even if you found a branch that looked into Midgard, you saw only the mountains, with little dots of people climbing up them that left you amused for a moment, or boats on the ocean that made your heart ache desperately for your husband. 

But you didn’t question it much either. Maybe it was his position between the two worlds of gods, the magic of the Fates and the Norns interfering with your powers, the mist cloaking him better than you had hoped. 

You continued with your life as it had been long before you knew of the existence of the Greek Pantheon. You filled your position as a good goddess should, protecting the people from threats bigger than them, refusing to interfere with the machinations of demigods and their quests. You had no way of knowing that this obstruction of your view was unnatural. How would you know that someone else’s designs were at play here? How could you possibly know that your own father was stopping you from hearing the desperate prayers meant for you, the pleas of your dear friend when she felt she could not cope? 

As you sat there beside Odin at the feast table, looking up to your father with reverence as he smiled cheerfully down at you, how were you to know he was actively hiding your son from you?

Taglist: @thicficbich1, @pasta-warlord, @turtleshavesoulmates, @wolfgirl294, @stanswifties, @mrsinclaire, @homanoid, @bellamysnatblida

[satuguro]

✧*ೃ࿐ TONGUES & TEETH

[ ACT I: THE GLOW ]

xavier thorpe x valkyrie! reader

#SYNOPSIS— xavier’s attracted to intimidating women, you and wednesday bond over murder methods, and you really need to stop being attracted to trouble.

#CONTAINS— enemies to fwb to lovers, academic rivals, intimidating and flawed reader, gore, blood, death, aged up characters (everyone is 18 except for eugene), sexual content (later on)

#AUTHORSNOTE— spontaneously writing an xavier thorpe fanfic was honestly not on my mind but oh well here it is ! feel free to send me asks/requests about this series or for other wednesday characters

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, ACT VI

a valkyrie was not a mere label. it was a highly respected role, one that was not granted to simply because you were a child of odin. no, the position of a valkyrie was an important one, because every warrior who died in battle, every fighter’s soul, relied on you to bring them to valhalla — no matter what that was for them. heaven, hell, reincarnation — you and your sisters brought them there.

nevermore was seemingly the only available place in which you could reside. you were the youngest of the ten valkyrie sisters, the only one born into the 21st century (as the rest of them were much too old for you to count). odin tried to put his youngest daughter into every school imaginable; public school, private school, boarding school, juvenile detention.

all brought out the same results. you found the material easy and the lack of competition boring, or you were found beating some kid into the ground, your knuckles bloody as adults pried you off of them.

granted, every person you have ever thrown a punch at was deserving of it. but it’s not like the police care about the kid with a broken leg; they care about the person who carelessly broke it with their bare hands.

that was why you found yourself in nevermore, standing awkwardly next to your nine sisters as you loosened your tie around your neck.

the other students didn’t care to hide their stares, their whispers loud and very audible to you as you looked at every single one of them.

“don’t loosen your tie, y/n,” your eldest sister, brunhilde, said with a small look, her arms crossed as she stood towering above the rest of the passing students. “you must look presentable.”

“since when did you ever care about looking presentable?” you replied with a scoff, using one finger to loosen the black tie incompletely. you heard your second youngest sister, gunnr, snicker at that, her laughter quickly hindered by a glare from another one of your sisters.

“ever since father decided to send us to take you here rather than himself,” brunhilde snapped, bitterness evident in her tone as she clenched her jaw. her emerald green eyes flashed in anger; the fact that her father decided not to show up to something like this yet again wasn’t surprising, but it still annoyed her nonetheless.

“he was busy,” eir, the second eldest valkyrie, murmured, coming in yet again as the peacemaker. “besides— this isn’t exactly father’s scene. too many children.”

their conversation melted into the background as your eyes drifted around the courtyard. there seemed to be little cliques within the school — gorgons, vampires, werewolves, sirens, psychics — how cliche. your eyes however, landed on one boy that was painting a raven on the wall, his eyes already set on you far before you noticed him.

his long hair was tied back, his hazel eyes boring into yours as he stopped painting, his hand falling to his side. he was studying you, observing your purposely loosened tie, the sword necklace that hung around your neck, the dagger strapped to your side, and the nine buff women who stood around you. they looked nothing like you, but their energy was strong. powerful. unwavering.

you didn’t break eye contact with him, your eyes narrowing as you challenged him to look away first.

“y/n odinsdottir." a tall woman who practically screamed elegance interrupted your staring contest, forcing you to look away first. her hair was perfectly pinned up, and her cherry red lips curled into a smile as she looked at you. "welcome to nevermore. i assume these are your sisters?" she questioned, looking at your siblings with a warm smile.

"we won't be here long," brunhilde stated, stepping forward. she seemed to be about the same height as the woman, which seemed to please her greatly. she held out a calloused hand. "brunhilde. you're the principal, correct?"

"yes - larissa weems." principal weems' smile never broke as she shook your sister's hand. wordlessly, she began to lead the ten of you to her office. "i have made living arrangements for y/n - i hope she does well with roommates. one of her other roommates is a new student as well."

this new school was, frankly, a lot fancier than most of the schools you had gone to. it looked old, with too many ghosts and history hidden in its walls, but while the school stood out more than the rest, the people seemed to be all the same. prudes with enough money to have the world in their hands. teenagers who have never been told 'no' in their lives. cockiness and pride seemed to ooze from every crevice.

in a way, you found it amusing.

"it was honestly quite a surprise to find all of you here rather than your father," principal weems commented as she opened the door to her office, "i believe that he had told me that he would arrive." she situated herself into her chair behind her desk, placing her hands on the table and clasping them.

you stood in front of the desk, rolling your eyes at her comment. "he likes to lie," you stated bluntly, ignoring the glare eir sent to you as she offered principal an apologetic smile.

"what y/n means to say is," eir began, absentmindedly toying with one of her long golden braids, "our father is very busy. he has other business to attend to."

"he likes doing business." you continued, "especially on his bed."

one of your older sisters, skuld, hissed a small "y/n," as a warning for your words, making you huff in annoyance.

eir's smile was unwavering and her politeness was undeterred as she laughed lightly, "i apologize for y/n's words. she often.. lacks a filter."

"it's no problem, i assure you." principal weems' smile grew as she looked at you, "she's in very capable hands. later, she will receive a tour from one of her roommates, enid sinclair. she's very approachable; i'm sure they will get along."

that statement made your mask fall for just a second.

friends and lovers were topics that were often unspoken between you and your sisters. to put it frankly, it was hard for valkyries to truly find themselves friends with others or loving another because of something you called 'the glow.' valkyries, being a guide for souls in battle, had the ability to know when someone's death was near. it often appeared as a golden glow around the individual moments before a battle or before a specific moment. to help was to lose your position as a valkyrie. to lose your father's acceptance and appreciation of you. it was the foundation of your position, your one important duty to guide the souls of warriors, but there had been instances where the glow appeared for those you cared for. friends. lovers.

it had happened too many times to your sisters. they had all lost lovers and friends in battle, and had to be the one to guide their souls and leave them for eternity. but there came a moment in time where they all decided to stop caring so much for others. they focused on each other, protecting their own sisters out of fear of caring and losing another.

and when you were born, they warned you of that same fate. they warned you of how hard it was to sense death, to be a symbol of war and death. so to say that you would get along with another and care for them was hard to fathom, because your mind automatically thought of losing them in an instant.

and if you lost them and were not able to guide them, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

"i will say that your record is.. only mildly concerning, y/n," principal weems said as she pulled out your folder. she scanned through the pages, licking her finger as she turned and read every offense and crime that ended with you getting kicked out of a school. "you've sent tons of people to the hospital for horrible injuries," she murmured, and you swallowed, mentally preparing yourself to hear the list. "you've broken the limbs of many, gave concussions to many more, and in one instance dropped a teenage boy from a thousand feet above ground."

"all deserved. i hold no remorse for them," you stated, a proud smirk making its way onto your face.

principal weems' brows furrowed as she reached the last page in the folder, the words 'saving grace orphanage' in large letters at the top of the form. "kicked out of nearly 20 homes in the span of 13 years."

your smirk fell, your eyes turning cold as you glared at the principal. next to you, gunnr shifted uncomfortably, her hands clenching and unclenching in the instance she had to hold you back from landing a hand on your principal. "how did you get those?"

"nevermore requires all documents from students," principal weems read down the paper, her look of discontent and worry seemingly growing with every line, "even those that have been terminated." one line specifically caught her eye.

has been found at one location consistently. the owner of the property has claimed that there is no reason for y/n to be there, but she seems to be connected to it. if not found at her foster home, she is most likely found here.

how was it you were only here for a few hours and you now wanted to strangle your principal?

"they have been terminated for a reason," you seethed, "my sisters had them forgotten."

"for very good reasons," brunhilde added, her voice eerily calm as she rolled her shoulders back, fixing her posture. "that's private information only our family knows."

"of course." principal weems shut the folder abruptly, the warm smile (though it was nothing more than plastic to you) returning to her red lips. "shall we bring you to your room?"

"i didn't know that valkyries could be as young as you."

you raised a brow at one of your roommates, wednesday, her deadpan tone doing little to influence you as you shrugged. "i'm the youngest of the ten," you stated, walking alongside her as you followed your other roommate, enid sinclair, around.

"that sounds like torture. of the worst degree," wednesday said, making enid clear her throat to catch your attention.

truthfully, enid was much more extraverted than you would ever be, but you didn't mind. she talked, you and wednesday listened - it was a good system. and she talked a lot. the fact that she was bringing around nevermore's first valkyrie was something she seemed incredibly happy about.

good for her.

"i already gave wednesday the whole rundown!" enid said with a contagiously bright smile. "this is the courtyard. everyone kind of hang out around here between classes or just.. whenever!" she explained, practically bouncing with every step as she brought you around. "there's a lot of cliques here; vampires, werewolves - like me, gorgons," her eyes landed on a few people around the fountain, her smile faltering for just a moment, "sirens, psychics, the usual."

"did you kill someone in your last school?" wednesday asked, making enid gasp.

"wednesday! i thought we would bring it up later!" enid scolded, frowning as she nudged the dreary girl.

"i was impatient." wednesday's face contorted into one of slight discontent at the nudge, though she (surprisingly) didn't complain.

you however, merely shrugged in response, folding your arms over your chest. "not the one at my last one. i just broke his legs - why?"

"because rumors spread like wildfire at nevermore," enid explained, coming to a stop in the middle of the corridor, much to some students' chagrin "practically everyone's talking about it! i told you that they'd forget about what you did, wednesday," she said pointedly, making wednesday blink, which was frankly a rather large reaction.

you looked at wednesday, eyebrows raising in curiosity. "did you kill someone?"

"two people. not one."

"what was your method?"

"piranhas from my aquarium at home. and you?"

you hummed in appreciation at her method before responding with a curt, "flew up and dropped him from a thousand feet." it made wednesday nod once.

"impressive."

"okay, steering the subject away from death and murder," enid interrupted, awkwardly chuckling as she continued to walk. she came to a stop in front of the boy who had been painting the raven, her smile of relief much too obvious to go unnoticed by you. "xavier! you've made such good progress!"

"thanks, enid." the boy - xavier - turned around, his mouth seemingly going dry when he saw you staring at him. your arms were crossed over your chest, your head tilted up to observe his painting. "you're the one who dropped the guy."

your look of curiosity turned into one of annoyance, your eyebrow raising as your eyes snapped towards him. "what about it?" you challenged, and you heard enid laugh awkwardly yet again.

"nothing. just asking, that's all," a hint of a smirk made its way onto his face, his hand - the one with paint on it - coming out towards you. "xavier thorpe."

"if you think that i'm going to shake your messy hand, you must believe i'm an idiot," you said bluntly, eyes narrowing.

"both an idiot and impolite," xavier responded, and end immediately grabbed you as you tried to take a step towards him, turning you around and briskly walking you the other way.

you didn't want to see him again after your first encounter with him. you didn't like smug people who had nothing to be smug about - the competitiveness in you wasn't cut out for any of that.

it did come in handy however, for academics.

while it wasn’t as fun as war or training was, it gave you enough competition to feel satisfied in victory. public schools were far too easy in your opinion, private schools equally as easy with more prudish people, but nevermore was more interesting. everyone was smarter, weirder, and more witty than any normie— it kept you entertained.

for the past week, you had been dead set on being the best at every class you had. macabre literature, arithmetic, botany, anatomy - you kept yourself busy trying to make a lasting impact on the professors.

you walked into the art class, eyes widening at its size. huge windows allowed for tons of sunlight to shine in, but since it was a gloomy day (or “a wonderful day” by wednesday’s standards), you could only see the condensation and fog on the windows. on one side of the room was sculpture and pottery supplies, while the other had painting and drawing easels set up in a circle with space in the middle for posing.

principal weems wanted you to do something that didn’t include fighting, weapons, or punching, you were going to join wednesday in fencing, but you found yourself here instead.

the class was small and the teacher was as careless as ever, muttering something about how artists must choose their own paths when creating art. but as you walked in and looked at the few faces, your face soured when you realized who you had to sit next to.

“thorpe.” you stated coldly, sitting stiffly in the easel next to him. it was almost funny how out of place you looked, sitting with straight posture on the stool and staring up at the large canvas in front of you.

xavier however, looked as relaxed as ever. he smiled at you lazily as he looked up from his sketchbook. “y/n. how nice of you to grace me with your presence.”

“it wasn’t my choice — weems wanted me to do something.. nonviolent.” you picked up the piece of charcoal in front of you, lips turning down to a slight frown. you hadn’t drawn in forever.

“i heard you tried for fencing,” xavier hummed, watching you pick up art supplies and weigh them in your hand. “you know that fencing doesn't include actual stabbing, right?”

“i do know that, thorpe,” you grumbled, avoiding eye contact as you removed your blazer, leaving only your white button up and messy tie. you rolled up your sleeves, oblivious to the way xavier’s eyes slowly went to your arms.

you were strong.

he had always guessed it — he had gotten stoned with ajax the night prior and they spent the next hour searching up how strong every outcast really was. valkyries, xavier learned, had superhuman strength, agility, stamina, and fighting abilities, so he wasn’t sure why he was so shocked to see your toned arms.

there was a tattoo of a sword on your inner forearm. it was so intricately drawn that he found himself staring at it for a little too long, simply admiring the style. admiring the way it decorated your skin.

"it's stupid how there's no actual stabbing in it," you continued, absentmindedly rolling up your sleeves. you side-eyed xavier, eyes uninterested as you watched the way he stared at your tattoo. "weirdo," you muttered, standing up abruptly and breaking his trance. “i’m going to do sculpting.”

xavier snorted, covering his gawking with his usual confidence as he fixed himself on his stool, spreading his legs just a bit. "since when did you sculpt?" he asked, half disinterested and half curious as he watched you shrug.

"one of my foster parents had a pottery studio." you stared at him blankly, a pause of awkward silence encompassing you before you said a curt, "bye," and left xavier at his easel.

xavier pulled his attention back to his sketchbook, eyes burning holes into his page of a certain pigtailed girl. for an hour he sat there, drawing in his visions on his sketchbook; many of which were of wednesday.

but one page in particular made him stop and stare. in his trance, much too focused on the feeling of his charcoal pencil on paper to care for what he was truly drawing, he had drawn what seemed to be an angel. it flew in the darkness of the page, her arms outstretched and its wingspan wide as she looked up at the top of the page. her hand was holding an invisible hand, but he saw the detail he put into the bandages that adorned her arms and knuckles.

hesitantly, xavier put his hand over the page, watching as the drawing began to move. the angel's arm moved ever so slightly, and his heart thumped loud in his chest when he saw your tattoo on your forearm.

subtly, he looked up through his eyelashes towards where you had been working, his mouth running dry as he watched you start to center your clay on the pottery wheel. you were surrounded by bowls, mugs, and plates of all kinds, being a rather quick worker with a delicate hand for someone who loved to fight. xavier watched you shape the clay in your hands, the substance molding easily as you moved it.

the sight of your eyes snapping up to meet his made him hide his enamor with a lazy smile and an awkward wave, which made you scoff and return to your pottery. but his eyes lingered on you, focused on the way your elbows were on your legs, how you were hunched over and how your arms were messy with clay. how your hair was much messier than when the class started. how your jaw was clenched in concentration, your eyes like a hawk's as you stared at the mug you were creating.

quickly, xavier looked back at his sketched, eyes set on the drawing he had done of you. it was such a specific image; how odd.

on your first friday in nevermore, enid had dragged you along with her to the harvest festival fair, saying something along the lines of "we have to ride every ride there!" that made you reluctantly agree to go. in any other circumstance, you would have opted to stay home and do anything but go out, but enid was enid, and she had no idea when to quit.

thing - wednesday's little hand friend - also contributed to getting you up and ready for the carnival. he was pretty persuasive.

which was how you found yourself awkwardly standing next to a carnival game after enid ran off with ajax, a boy she very obviously liked. it was confusing how people could be so blind to things like that.

the tight black long sleeve you wore was, in your opinion, enough to keep yourself warm as your body generated more body heat than many others. frankly, you looked pretty grumpy standing next to a carnival game you had already won, one of your hands holding a medium sized teddy bear that you (reluctantly) accepted. if it weren't for the fact that all the games were rigged, then you would have gotten the largest one.

"what happened to enid?"

you groaned as you turned towards the voice, finding xavier standing behind you, his hands in his pockets and his hair down. he was dressed in casual clothing, same as you, but you could recognize that subtle smug attitude anywhere. it was as if the smirk he wore could never get run down.

"went off with ajax. probably on a rollercoaster." you looked him up and down with a discontented look. "why are you alone?"

"i came here with ajax and rowan." xavier shrugged, leaning against the carnival table. a toothy grin crept onto his face, his tone teasing as he continued, "are you willing to keep me company?"

"no."

xavier rolled his eyes at your constant grumpiness, shrugging his shoulders as he quickly changed the subject. "i lost them both a while ago. i've just been walking and looking for.." his eyes left you, landing on some people behind you.

you looked back, immediately connecting the dots as you watched wednesday stand next to a guy near a ride, wednesday (surprisingly) contributing to conversation as they paid you and xavier no mind. an amused smile came on your face, and you held back the laugh you were about to let out. "oh my gods, you like wednesday."

xavier frowned, looking at you incredulously. "i don't," he denied. you watched his body movements with a smirk, observing how he fixed his posture and puffed his chest up ever so slightly out of defense.

"i'm not stupid, thorpe. you just gawked at her like a lovesick fool," you snorted, crossing your arms over your chest again.

xavier found himself staring at your arms, the muscles you had worked hard for easily shown off in your black long sleeve.

"if only you weren't so annoying," he muttered under his breath, sighing. "i don't like her," xavier repeated, following your actions and crossing his arms. he looked at you annoyedly, the amusement that danced in your eyes only pissing him off further. "i think she's interesting, that's all."

"denial is always the first step," you sing songed, your smirk turning into a cheshire like grin. "honestly, you should've seen the look on your face."

xavier scoffed. "what look?"

"the look you always have when wednesday walks by." you were laughing now, your careless teasing and prodding making his presence all the more tolerable in your opinion. "like a lovesick puppy. it's kind of pathetic, honestly - like, haven't you barely talked to her.." your words died out as your eyes caught sight of something you didn't expect to see within your first week in nevermore.

the glow.

you saw the shining gold before you saw who it surrounded. it was blindingly bright particles that floated and emitted a bright light that only you could see. all your senses were honed in on him, far too focused on the soul you had to guide to notice that he was following wednesday, who had trailed off moments prior.

your eyes widened when you saw rowan walk by, the golden glow surrounding him making your eyes cloud over in white. your irises and pupils disappeared into nothing, leaving your eyes a milky white. you felt that familiar tug in your chest, the one that brought nothing but dread and danger, and the immediate pain of loss. the glow that surrounded him was shining horribly bright; his death was really close.

"y/n? hello?" xavier followed your view, a snicker leaving his lips. "oh, i see." he watched as rowan's walk turned into a run into the nearby woods; right after wednesday. "i didn't know your eyes did that when you saw someone you like, y/n -"

"can you shut up, thorpe?" you snapped, shoving the bear towards him before turning around and walking away. your walk turned into a run as you followed rowan, knowing fully well that your agility would make you easily catch up with him. but as with the glow, your mind was only focused on him. nothing else mattered in that moment except for the fact that rowan laslow was going to die.

the sound of a roar made your hold your hand out, your tattoo of a sword glowing and making your sword materialize. on your back, hidden under the confines of your shirt, your tattoo of wings began to glow. that too, began to materialize, your wings writhing and stretching as it ripped through your shirt and spread out around you. pure white feathers flapped a few times, accustoming itself to the space, before you began to lift off the ground.

you flew towards the sound of the roaring, dodging trees and bushes before you saw a large monster over rowan, its claws digging into his chest. wednesday hunched over, catching her breath not too far away, and with no hesitation you flew faster and kicked the monster away from rowan. it let out another screech, one of pain this time, but you couldn't have cared less for its ugly form, for you were too focused on the dying boy on the ground.

the glow never lied. you saw his soul appear next to his body, merely a blue transparent silhouette in your eyes. you swallowed thickly, the pain of such a young soul being lost weighing heavy in your heart as you held your free hand out.

wordlessly, he accepted it. his hand was ice cold against your live one, and with that, you flew. you flew up thousands of feet, moving fast as your wings forced you up higher, higher, higher.

you broke through the clouds, breath heaving as you looked at the silhouette of rowan. the one that used to be alive, with a beating heart and living thoughts.

"there's a light," rowan murmured, his eyes set on the blinding light only he could see. but you saw nothing but the stars and the moon.

you only smiled sadly. "that will take you to where you need to go."

your job was a hard one. you brought them to the entrance of their death and allowed them to go there themselves and be there for eternity. there was no satisfaction from it, other than the fact that they weren't lost. they knew where they had to be.

you felt his silhouette disappear, the hand you were once holding now disappearing into nothing. your eyes reverted back to normal, and you looked around you at the emptiness around you. you were left with only the pain of losing another human.

you let out a sharp exhale, forcing yourself to think of anything but the soul you had just guided to the heavens, before flying back down to the woods. that was one of the hardest parts of your job; you felt the pain of them leaving. you understood that they would be missed, that they had an entire family and friends that would continue to miss them. you felt that pain from the moment you held his hand to fly him to the heavens, to the second he left.

the sound of flapping wings made wednesday look up from where she stood. she had been staring at the drawing rowan had kept in his pocket before your arrival, in which she quickly pocketed it and turned to you. your chest was heaving slightly, your arm bleeding from a twig that had seemingly gotten in your way during your flight between the trees. your wings folded behind you, and you opted to keep them out for as long as possible; it was hard to have them confined for long periods of time.

"did you guide him to valhalla?" wednesday asked, her tone as dead pan as ever, as if the fact that you had huge angel wings was the least of her troubles (which, in that moment, probably was). she was out of breath as well, her once perfect pigtails now a frizzy mess upon her head.

"i guided him to the entrance of whatever he believes in," you replied, looking down at his body and swallowing thickly. to change your focus, you glanced at wednesday, "your lack of response to a near death experience is admirable," you stated, making her nod curtly.

"truthfully, it was the most fun i have had all week," wednesday replied.

ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, ACT VI

#AUTHORSNOTE— that was the first part of my new series! feel free to send me asks about it and ask to be on the taglist! thank you sm for reading :)