disapproving drew

If you rub his head it’s good luck.

Shamelessly indulging in some shippy art to celebrate coming off hiatus.
And as usual, ya’ll can blame @fadewalking.

Ends of Time; Ends of Earth (NSFW)

This fic is dedicated to @novemberocean for encouraging me to write and for letting me bombard her with bits of story as I went. I hope you like it dear! 

Loki x OFC (a Valkyrie). Rated M for SMUT. AU, I guess (cuz I can’t stick to canon to save my life, but timeline is vague). 

Also, while I have your attention, check out Kresely Cole’s Immortals After Dark series–it’s where I’m riffing a lot of my Valkyrie lore from (and also, the stories are fantastic). 

Rain fell in hard, pelting drops, and the sky darkened to an inky purple behind the baroque backdrop of the city. Melusine side-stepped puddle after puddle on the cobbled streets, cursing Thor for the weather. If her Gucci boots were ruined because of him, she was going to give him a swift kick in the ass as well as the bill for a new pair of shoes. 

Pushing away both thoughts of the affable God of Thunder and brass door to the popular belle epoque restaurant, Melusine scanned the crowd for her contact. No one immediately stuck out, however, and a moment later tuxedo clad waiter appeared at her side, offering to take her coat. She shrugged out of her black cashmere, causing the gold satin lining to shimmer in the warm light of the room. The high hemline of her silk warp dress drew some disapproving looks, some admiring, as well. 

Good. These mortals were lucky to be in her presence. 

“May I offer Madame a table?” the waiter asked. 

Melusine smiled, “I’m actually to meet someone.” She paused, glancing once more around the glittering room. “Monsieur Lucien.”

Though he tried to keep his reaction neutral, the poor man’s eyes widened. This was certainly the correct place then. 

“Right this way, Madame,” he said, motioning her to follow him. 

They passed through main dinning room, with it’s fin de siecle painted ceiling and gold-leaf crown molding. Past the well-to-do of the Golden City, and into a cozy back hallway. 

“Monsieur Lucien is in one of our private suites,” the man explained, stopping before a dark wooden door. He rapped once, twice, before waiting for the discrete muffled reply from the other side. 

The door opened and Melusine’s spine stiffened, her hand itching to reach for the dagger strapped to her thigh. Confronting an enemy. Threat, threat, THREAT, her instincts seemed to scream. Instead, she let a dazzling smile ease over her lips, and stepped into the room. 

Everything seemed to stop at once–the flicker and crackle of the fire, the soft tap tap of the rain on the mullioned window. Even, perhaps, her heart, as her vision wavered, tunneling towards the figure at the other end of the small room. He stood at the porphyry mantle, seemingly admiring the landscape hung above, his back to them. 

At the sound of her entrance, he turned, and their eyes met. 

Melusine tried so hard to keep the little exclamation of, of, well, wanting, from leaving her throat. But if the slight smirk gracing his lips was any indication, he heard it. She wanted to run; whether to him or far, far away, she didn’t know. But she was rooted to the spot. Norns, he was exactly as she remembered from all those eons ago; exactly the same and so irrevocably different. He still moved with that feline grace as he came towards her; still smelled of cloves and dusk and dark, as he leaned in to brush a kiss across both cheeks. Her skin prickled at the touch, as if a thousand little flames sprang from his lips. He held her by the elbow for a long moment, their bodies more intimate in not touching that she’d been with anyone in the last thousand years. 

The door clicked closed behind them. 

“Loki.” It was a whisper, a sigh. Maybe, even, a prayer. Though those days were long behind them.

He took a step backwards, but didn’t let go of her forearms. 

“Melusine.” a smirk. “Valkyrie mine.”

She shook her head, her heart pounding a furious staccato against her chest. “Not anymore.”

At that, his arms dropped. 

Another step back. His calculated gaze sweeping over, her, taking in her impeccable appearance that belied the violence of which she was capable. 

“Of course.” His eyes glittered in the firelight at that, though whether at amusement or ire, she couldn’t be sure. 

Not anymore. 

“I didn’t think he would actually send you for this.” His voice was controlled, neutral, even. But she could feel the emotion behind it.

“He doesn’t know." 

"A happy accident, then.” His smile cut like glass. 

The air around them was heavy, smothering yet brittle. Ready to snap with just the wrong movement. It had been five hundred years. five hundred years since he’d laid her down on a bed of furs under the glittering night sky of Asgard. Five hundred years since he’d parted her thighs and taken her with deep, slow strokes, his eyes never leaving hers. 

Five hundred years since she’d almost lost everything for love of him. 

The pop of the fire rent the air, and he moved. His body slammed into hers, pressing her against the paneled wall. He sealed his lips over her mouth, kissing her, devouring her, hungry, starving, ravening. His hands everywhere at once, tugging at her hair, skimming her hips, pushing her skirt up, up, up. A sound escaped her throat that was half moan, half sob at the feeling of his body covering hers, and she buried her fingers in his dark hair. 

His lips at her throat, teeth scrapping at her neck. Melusine tangled her fingers in thick locks. She refused to be gentle; she needed to hold on to him, to sink in, and never let go. His lips moving lower, warm breath on her chest, before he tore her dress open and with one practiced movement ripped the front of her bra in two. 

“That was Chantilly lace!” She gasped, her ire immediately soothed by the hot suck of his mouth around her nipple. 

He broke away from her breasts to growl, “Melusine, sweet, we both know the only thing you Valkyrie like more than wearing exquisite clothing is having a man tear it from your exquisite body.”

Her retort died in her throat as Loki kissed lower, savoring his way down her body. His hands danced up her thighs, racing his mouth, it seemed, to meet in the middle. Her mind was a muddle of warmth and desire. He paused as his fingers met the sheath of her knife. 

“Tricky minx,” he purred, pulling the holster from her thigh and tossing her only weapon behind them. 

“Learned from the best,” she managed to gasp out before his clever fingers tore her stockings and the scrap of silk between her legs. 

Just when she thought he was going to lean in and sooth the ache between her thighs with his practiced mouth, Loki stood, once again pressing his hard, leanly muscled body against hers. His lips met her throat, hot, wet kisses moving up to nibble at her ear, while his fingers stroked the liquid heat between her legs. Melusine hated the plaintive whimper that escaped her mouth as his thumb brushed her throbbing clit. Her knees felt weak as fire swept over her skin in time with the throbbing beats of her heart. 

She needed to stay on her toes around him, but Gods he made it hard.

“Tell me once again how you’re not mine anymore, sweet,” Loki purred in her ear, causing shivers of pleasure to wrack her spine. His fingers delved inside of her, stroking, teasing her honeyed warmth like a maestro at his violin. “Tell me your body doesn’t cry out for my touch, that you don’t dream of me.”

She whimpered again, but used the last scrap of her self control to stop the words bubbling up from her throat. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Not yet.

But Melusine felt as if she were no longer in control of her body. Though she fought not to say it, it was plain to both of them that she was his, completely and utterly. Fury welled up, rising along her spine, mingled with pleasure. How dare he own her like this? How dare he know just how to sink his fingers into her body to make her faint with pleasure. 

She fought back the only way she could. Her hands roamed his body, nails sharpened into points in response to her pounding heart. She tore at his shirt, exposing the lean, sculpted wall of his chest. Her nails raked down his body, red on white as blood welled up in her wake. Loki let out a hiss, leaning into her for more. She could feel the hard line of his cock pressed against her hip, and she felt like she’d die if she didn’t have him inside of her soon. 

“That’s it, Melusine, mark me,” he panted between open mouthed kissed. “sink those little claws into me like you’re aching to do.”

Gods how did he know exactly what she needed? It was fucking infuriating. And arousing. 

“Stop talking, Loki, and fuck me,” she snapped. 

The sound of his laughter echoed through the room as he lifted her in one swift moment, pressing her between the wall and his lean body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling more alive than she had in the last five hundred years. 

With shaking hands, he undid his trousers, freeing his cock.

“Is this what you want, sweet?” He purred.

Gripping his shaft, Loki rubbed the plump crown of his cock against her aching center. Melusine let out a muffled moan, rubbing against him, desperate for his touch. 

“Please, Loki,” she panted, out of her mind with need. “Please.”

He cupped her, stroking her lips, making sure she was wet and ready for him. Finding her so, in one smooth move he entered her. Melusine squeezed her eyes shut, head thrown back as her moan rent the air. He was impossibly thick, and hard, and fuck, he made her feel so full. With one final thrust, he seated himself fully.

“At last,” he whispered, face buried in her neck. 

With one hand gripping her thigh, Loki tangled the other in hair, angling her face towards his. Eyes closed she met his kiss with eager, hungry lips. He moved inside of her, thrusting a brutal rhythm that she joyfully kept pace with. Their tongues met, tasting each other, finding all the words that had been left unsaid over the centuries. Pleasure bloomed across her body, the feeling of his skin on her skin so fucking erotic it almost hurt. 

As Loki kissed her, as he fucked her, Melusine felt as if her entire world was coming apart at the seams. She could feel a great wave of emotion well up inside of her and she sunk her nails into his shoulders to anchor her to reality.  

“Loki!” she choked out as blinding pleasure built higher and higher. 

Her body shuddered, her sheath clenching hard around his cock. Melusine threw her head back and let out a Valkyrie shriek as she came. All the glass in the room shattered, raining down from the light fixtures, the windows, the champagne bottle. Lightening rent the air outside, as ozone filled the room. 

Loki groaned at the feeling of her orgasm, but held back his own. She slumped against him, melting into the heat of his body.  Gripping her tight, he spun them towards the table. All the dishes and glassware went flying with a wave of his hand, and she clung to him as he laid her down on the smooth surface. Loki’s hands clutched her hips hard, anchoring her beneath him as he thrust deep. Melusine’s back arched, as the pleasure he gave built on the aftereffects of her first orgasm. 

The hard slide of his cock against the walls of her cunt felt like holy fire inside of her. Pleasure like she hadn’t known bloomed deep in her blood and she felt as if he were trying to inscribe himself into the very marrow of her bones.

Loki bent over her, covering her body with his own, hiding them from the world in the dark curtain of his hair. “You’re mine, Melusine,” his voice was soft, belied by the snarl of possessiveness underlying his words. “Our fates are woven together, intertwined on the Norns’ great tapestry. You can’t quit me, you can’t walk away. You can run for a thousand years and I. Will. Find. You.”

He punctured his declaration with deep, slow thrusts, his green eyes luminous in the dark, boring into her own. Melusine gasped, unable to speak as a second orgasm built, hot and insistent. She let go, letting it rip through her, clutching him close, and sinking her nails deep into his back, leaving her mark on him as he left his on her. His thrust became more erratic, the energy of the room building, getting heavier as pure fire of need spread across her skin. 

So close.


Building, building, building, until–


Loki threw his head back, neck muscles corded as he found his release. A great burst of magic ruptured, and for a moment–just a moment–present and past were merged. The room melted away to the glittering night sky of Asgard and Melusine could feel the soft fur under her back, the smell of grass and wild flowers and lovemaking heavy on the air. 

The lines of tension left his body as he slumped over her, chest to chest, their hearts beating together. Loki stroked her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheek. In response, Melusine pressed her lips  lightly, almost reverently, to his. 


Sunlight caressed her face and a soft breeze teased tendrils of her hair. Melusine woke on the floor of Loki’s private room tangled in his arms. They were laying before the fireplace, her head pillowed on his chest. She sat up and allowed herself just a moment to admire her forbidden lover in his sleep. 

Clever as the devil and twice as handsome, she thought before slowly lifting the delicate chain from around his neck. 

She held up the pendant to the light, letting the sun cast a riot of colors around the room as it hit the shimmering gem. Melusine smirked. She had glimpsed it last night–although she had known he’d have it on him. 

Exactly what I came for. Dropping the necklace around her own neck, she paused. An errant curl fell across Loki’s forehead, and before she could stop herself, she reached forward to smooth it back. Leaning down, Melusine pressed a kiss to his lips. 

And then she was gone. 


Loki sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair. He could still smell Melusine on his skin, and the thought touched a smile to his lips. She was long gone, of course, and the gem with her. He would have been disappointed with anything else, honestly. 

He grinned, energy flowing through his body. “Run to the ends of the earth, Valkyrie mine,” Loki whispered to the air. “I’m coming for you.”

Thanks for reading! Please like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed it! <3

anonymous asked:

Mark + Ethan + Tyler 38?!??! (there ship name still kills me) 🎶

38. “You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”
“Is he up yet?” Mark asked, entering Tyler’s bedroom with a glass of water in hand.

“Nearly,” Tyler responded, sitting across the bed from Ethan and watching with a soft look in his eyes.

Ethan himself was beginning to stir, rolling over and making noises. Sure enough, after a few minutes, he finally blinked awake slowly with a yawn.

“Morning,” Mark greeted comedically as he approached the bed.

Startled, Ethan flinched and rubbed his eyes, seemingly beginning to realize his surroundings. “Hey,” he replied, looking up at Mark in disorientation, “Why… Why am I in Tyler’s room?”

“You fainted…straight into my arms,” Tyler explained, “You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“Shut up,” Ethan said lightheartedly, smiling as he sat up on the bed, “Did I really faint?”

Mark nodded enthusiastically. “You looked like a distressed princess, it was magical.”

A light blush rose to Ethan’s cheeks, but thankfully Tyler spoke before either of his friends could notice.

“We’re just glad you’re okay, though. Any idea why you passed out?” The oldest asked.

“I’m probably just kind of sleep deprived,” Eth said with a shrug.

“Or dehydrated,” Mark interjected, passing his cup of water to Ethan.

Ethan’s casual dismissal of the topic drew a disapproving frown from Tyler. “That’s not a ‘just kind of’ thing, E,” He said sternly, “You fainted, which means you probably haven’t gotten enough sleep in days.”

Eth rolled his eyes, finishing his water and passing the empty cup to Mark. “I’m an editor, I don’t know what you expect,” He smiled, trying to make Ty and Mark let the whole things pass as a joke.

“Sorry blue, I’m with Ty,” Mark shrugged, standing up to put the glass somewhere else and join Tyler on the other side of the bed, “You need to take a break and sleep.”

With both Tyler and Mark staring at him stubbornly, Ethan groaned. “You guys can’t just team up on me, it’s not fair,” he whined, “And besides…Even if I wanted to, it’s not like I can sleep.”

This captured both his friends’ attention.

“What’s that mean?” Ty asked with concern, making Ethan realize he’d have to explain the whole problem now and he’d really been hoping to avoid that.

“Nothing,” the youngest sighed, “I just mean– It’s hard sometimes. With- with being alone all the time and it’s cold and how am I supposed to fall asleep with that?”

A comprehensive silence followed, then,

“Would it help to have someone next to you?”

It was Mark, and from the looks of it, he was being completely serious. Ethan, embarrassed, tried stuttering out a response but was interrupted by Tyler.

“Or two people?”

Ethan nearly burst into the widest grin of his life at the pleasant thought, even felt tempted to break into happy tears. Instead, he gave a small smile and nodded. “That might help.”

Tyler and Mark were more than happy to help.

I Started a Wrightworth Oneshot - should I continue?

The flash of red caught Phoenix’s eye; a streak of scarlet slashed violently and elegantly across the window as he hurried past it, anxious to be out of the mercilessly pounding rain.

But he knew – it had to be him.

His legs were folded sophisticatedly over each other; slender, spidery fingers curled around the handle of a teacup, steely eyes trained on something that Phoenix could not see.

Breathlessly, he pushed open the door, standing, sodden and damp, in the entrance of the tea shop, sopping newspaper in hand and a somewhat sheepish smile on his face. The place was ridiculously extravagant.

But, then again, that man had always been ridiculously extravagant.

He drew numerous disapproving gazes from prim ladies and stiffly-attired men; self-consciously he slicked his free hand carelessly through damp black hair and patted his pale blue waistcoat, leaving a distinct, hand-shaped patch of moisture on it.

An impassive waiter, who had obviously been so well-trained so as not even to look curiously at him, politely inquired if he was Mr Wright. Upon this being affirmed by the rather damp Phoenix, he led him to the seat in the window, opposite the scarlet-clad shape.

“You’re late, Wright,” murmured the man, his finger resting at his brow. The cold light reflected off his glasses – he was not looking at Phoenix; rather at the sheaf of papers that rested in his lap. A shiny black leather briefcase rested beside him on the floor, evidently currently devoid of its contents, and the elegant white teacup rested on the knee-height table in front of him.

Phoenix lowered himself into the seat opposite him and smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair again. A stubborn inky strand persisted in hanging over his forehead. “Yeah, sorry – it was all wet – I tried cycling here but it started to rain really heavily, so I ditched the bike –"

“You cycled?” There was a frown in the other man’s voice.

“I don’t have a drivers’ license, remember, Edgeworth? So, anyway, I walked –"

“And, despite it raining heavily, you still elected to stop and buy a newspaper?”

“I needed a cheap umbrella,” Phoenix admitted.

“Mm, and what an effective umbrella it was.” Edgeworth’s cultured voice dripped with sarcasm, and he finally looked up at Phoenix. His grey eyes were lined and tired and he seemed to have an indelible frown, but Phoenix had long since learned to spot the glint of thinly-veiled amusement in his eyes.

It was certainly present as he dryly regarded the sodden defense attorney in front of him.

The Dineen Question

In season one of Scorpion, we saw Walter and Megan’s parents via flashback, and by the first hiatus of season two, we’d met both of them.  Happy’s father was introduced in the first half of season one, and although her mother is dead, we were introduced to her via a videotape in the early second part of season two.  Sylvester’s father will make an appearance in the January 18th episode, “Son of a Gun.”  These appearances of parents that have a canon shaky (at best) relationship with their children brings to mind a question that some have been wondering for a while now.

Where are Ralph’s grandparents?

From the few mentions of Paige’s childhood, she seemed to be happy.  In Dominoes (1.12) she looked genuinely shocked and sad at the geniuses’ negative memories of Christmas.  Her reaction to a story of Happy’s about always being rejected by her foster families, and every other “that is so sad,” comment she’s made over the course of the series in response to a story about her coworker’s families gives every indication that her (Paige’s) childhood was a pleasant, memorable one.  

So what happened?

Something had to.

The simplest answer to this question is that they are dead.  Paige’s age has never been definitively stated, but Eddie is a 35 year old playing a 33 year old.  Elyes is a(n almost) 33 year old playing a 32 year old.  Camille is a 37 year old who played a(n about) 36 year old. Ari is playing his own age.  This isn’t Glee. Katharine is almost 32 and is definitely playing close to her own age.  We know Paige started college (for most that’s at 18) but didn’t finish (for most that’s at 22), since she mentioned in 1.18 that she wanted to “finish my degree” and in 2.11 that she was in a sorority.  Ralph is at least ten but probably (assuming her comment to Owen in Dominoes wasn’t rounding up) 11 at this point, which means Paige is at the youngest, 30, and at the oldest, 32.  It’s not impossible for someone in their early thirties to have already lost both her parents to old age, but it’s unlikely.  It’s more likely that if they are both dead, it wasn’t peaceful old age that took them.

And if they aren’t dead? If one or both of them are still alive?  Then there are a lot more questions.

Why didn’t Paige and Drew decide to settle near her parents?  Or why didn’t she go to them, either moving back in temporarily or just moving to the same city, once it became clear Drew wasn’t coming back?  She and Ralph got evicted when he was three – you don’t get evicted unless you miss rent, so if she couldn’t pay it, why didn’t she ask them for help?  Especially when not asking them for help could have left her child homeless, something that we know Paige would not do if she had a single other option.  Why has she never even mentioned them?  I don’t remember if Toby has any living parents, but we have gotten a decent taste of his tragic backstory and he’s mentioned his parents several times, even if to just make a point.

Why have they never come to visit?  We have seen Paige and Ralph through several Christmases at this point, at least one birthday for each of them (and probably two birthdays for Ralph if his stated age of 10 in Dominoes is correct, since we know he was 9 in the pilot).  Why has every excuse for Ralph’s absence either been “sitter” or “Drew” when it could be so easily mentioned that he was visiting “his grandparents?”  A passing mention of Paige’s parents wouldn’t necessarily need a storyline built around it, as the geniuses probably also assume that she’s on pretty good terms with them.  But there isn’t one single mention of them.

So what happened? How did this falling out - it’s entirely possible the show could try to convince us there was none but the evidence suggests otherwise - begin? Did they disapprove of her dropping out of college? Did they disapprove of Drew?  Did one of them have some secret life that came out and she didn’t want them around her child?  Is it something else entirely - are they in witness protection?  Are they living in poverty and can’t afford to travel (or provide their daughter and grandchild with financial assistence?) but it seems odd that Paige wouldn’t be trying to help them out now that she’s financially secure.  

While pride is a thing that exists (that might prevent Paige from asking for help when they got evicted or that might help poverty stricken Dineen parents from accepting help now), it seems strange that Paige and/or her parents wouldn’t swallow their pride for Ralph’s sake, if nothing else.  Paige let Drew back into Ralph’s life for the sake of her son, it’s unimaginable to think her pride would be enough to separate Ralph from his grandparents, and just as unfathomable that Paige would risk her three year old son being homeless rather than swallow any pride she might have and ask her parents for help.  And even if her parents couldn’t help them out financially, but would have if they could have, and even if they won’t accept financial assistance from their daughter now, how would that translate to them never even seeing Paige and Ralph now, seeing as the Dineens we know can afford to travel?  It just seems that some sort of tragedy, death or a bitter falling out, is why we haven’t met or heard from (or heard about) Paige’s mother or father in thirty five episodes thus far, especially when she 1. by all accounts and implications had a good childhood and 2. has made them grandparents.

It’s possible – even likely – that Paige’s backstory, while her origins and childhood may have been the picture of what most consider ideal, is just as tragic as any of the geniuses’.