#Hiddles Face Nonsense

[sableseb]

so uh. imagine professor!seb degrading you as he fucks you in his office. god he’d just be pounding you into the desk and another professor shows up (chris? tom hiddles?) and joins in?

Oh goodness😳 thank you for this amazing request. I hope you enjoy this lil somethin, somethin❤️

word count: 1.2k

warnings: smut, bit of degradation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, oral m receiving 

tags: @fuckandfluff @meetmeatyourworst @greeneyedblondie44

The reason for having straight A’s in all of Mr. Stan’s classes isn’t because of what you have in your head, but rather, what you have between your thighs.

Your professor could never tear his eyes away from your form, sitting all prim and proper in the front row, hooked on every word that escaped his lips, wearing skirts so short that if you shifted your legs right, he’d catch a glimpse of those cute pink, pastel panties. 

Little to your knowledge at the time, he was completely enamored with you. You always missed his glances and lingering touches when he’d hold the door open for you. Too oblivious to his assertions.

Each time he’d do something so gentlemanly like, you fell even harder for him. Those well tailored suits that hugged his form, those perfect teeth, the way he’d run his fingers through his thick hair when he was tired or frustrated made you lust after his forbidden fruit. 

You find yourself bent over his desk for what felt like the hundredth time this semester and each time just got better than the last. But, behind the heavy oak door of his office, he’s a different man.

Gone is the sweet and charming guy, who always makes you blush. He’s replaced by someone harsh, feral almost. And you love this side just as much in some sick way. 

“That’s it. Take this fucking cock.” he grunts as he pummels in and out of you.

Your panties are in his jacket pocket, skirt hiked over your hips displaying your reddened ass from his slaps and thrusts. He thrusts into you particularly deep this time, making you cry out. You try to move away to give yourself a break from his onslaught. 

Sebastian grips your hair to push your face down against the mahogany desk. “I don’t think so, baby. You wanna keep those good grades? You better keep these fuckin’ legs spread.”

With a pitiful sob, you do as you're told. Letting him use you like he always does. His dress pants are rubbing your thighs raw, each graze of the fabric makes you wince. But, the speed of his thrusts and the pleasure building up in your core overpower the rawness, the sting of your scalp from his tight hold, and the way your heart clenches at his words. 

Your breathless gasps grow as your climax approaches. Your walls are pulsing around his thick girth, trying to suck him back in each time he pulls out. The sounds of his grunts send you farther towards the edge. You wish to see the face he makes when he paints your walls, always loving the way his brows furrowed and his jaw slacks. 

Before you can let yourself be consumed in pleasure, the door opens. You snap your head up from Sebastian’s hold. He lets you lift your head, never once slowing his thrusts. The doorway showcases Mr. Hiddleston and his expression of sheer embarrassment.

“My, I-I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t see anything, I promise.” he stutters out, fumbling for the door handle.

“Nonsense, come have a seat.  Watch what a good little slut our star student is. “ Sebastian says behind you clear as day, as if he wasn’t balls deep inside you.

“No, really. I best be on my w-”

“I said sit, Tom.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tom makes his way into the office. He knew it was wrong, knew he should report both of you, but the way you’re bent over getting your brains fucked out has him hardening in his slacks and curiosity swirling in his head. 

You watch as he sits across from you, shame starts bubbling up in your chest as his eyes look into yours. You never questioned Mr. Stan’s motives. You always let him have his way, even if this time his way is putting you on display for another man

Your orgasm is long gone, even Sebastian’s constant thrusting is a dull reminder of how close you were. 

He jerks you up by your neck, keeping you pinned against his hard chest. “I’m gonna need you to be loud for me, baby. Let Mr. Hiddleston hear how good I make you feel.”

The hand that’s not currently holding your head in place snakes down your front, the tips of his fingers finding your clit. Your pussy clenches around him at the contact.

“Shit. You should feel how tight she’s squeezin’ me. Who makes you feel this good?”

Sebastian thrusts into you deep, rolling his fingers over your sensitive nerves. “You do, Mr. Stan.”

“That’s right, baby.” He bites your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “And don’t you forget it.”

He slaps your pussy, causing your knees to buckle in, before pushing you back down against the harsh surface of the desk.

Tom’s hand has been rubbing languidly over the tent in his pants the whole time. It seems like his coworker knows just what your body needs. It makes him wonder how long you two have been sneaking around together. Before any more thoughts can enter his mind, Sebastian’s voice calls out to him.

“Come fuck her mouth. I promise she works wonders with her tongue.” 

Tom watches as Sebastian reaches under your jaw and squeezes your cheeks together, holding your head up so he can get a good view. 

“Just look at this pretty pout.”

The thought of two men fucking you at the same time sends you reeling. You want Mr. Hiddleston to use you almost as much as Mr. Stan. So, when he makes his way over to you, hands fumbling his belt, your tongue is already out and splayed across your chin.

“She is an obedient one, isn't she?” Tom says as you runs to tip of his cock along your lips.

He slides himself into your wet, warm mouth. He’s heavy on your tongue, tip grazing the back of your throat with each shallow thrust. You treat him with the same enthusiasm you give Sebastian, licking and sucking the head, taking him all the way down your throat.

Sebastian’s hips pick up their harsh pace once more, causing you to let out groans that send vibrations down Tom’s shaft. The man above you can’t hold back any longer, his pace is almost as erratic as the one behind you. Both men are abusing your holes and you’ve never felt more wanted. 

Your orgasm built back up again embarrassingly fast. Sebastian knows this, he can feel how close you are by the way you meet his thrusts. “That’s right, fuck yourself on my cock. I know my dumb slut wants to cum.”

The damn breaks and you gush around Sebastian’s cock while you're still choking on Tom’s. You lay there spent as both men chase their pleasure. Tom caresses your hollowed cheeks while Sebastian grabs your ass tightly, hearing him let out a grunt as he fills you up. 

Tom holds your head in place, forcing himself down the back of your throat, the tip of your nose hitting his pelvis. It doesn’t take long before he spills his seed down your throat. His salty cum coating the inside of your mouth.

When both men pull out, you gasp for air. Your senses are muddied as you lay there against the desk, completely and utterly used. The conversation your professors are having falls upon deaf ears. You’re too blissed out. You shouldn’t be feeling sated right now. You should be running away, crying, feeling shame for letting your professors use you. 

But, you couldn't find a care, not when you’ve never felt more complete than you do now.

#asks #sleepover #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddleston smut

[villainousshakespeare]

Secret Santa

Hey! So somewhere in the past few months I passed 1,000 followers! I am shocked, amazed, and worried for all of your mental health, lol. Seriously, I love you all!

I haven’t really had time to do a celebration, but to say thank you, here is a tooth achingly sweet Loki Christmas One Shot! I hope you enjoy!!!

Secret Santa

Loki One Shot Loki/OFC Warnings: light angst, guilt, post Avengers Assemble Loki dealing with his actions while mind controlled, tooth rotting fluff Summary: Thor badgers Loki into participating in the Secret Santa at Avengers Tower. He is reluctant, but his gifts soon have him changing his mind.

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @justthehiddleswrites @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza  @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @justthehiddleswrites

“But Loki, you have to! You promised!”

”I most certainly did not!” The God of Mischief glared at his brother with affront. “And I think I would remember making you any such a vow.”

”Ah, but the promise wasn’t made to me,” Thor said triumphantly, preparing to play his trump card. “You promised mother! The day we left Asgard, you promised to do your best to get along and become a member of the team!”

”I… that is… you can’t really think I meant…” Loki stuttered, finding himself at an unusual loss for words as his lunk of a brother watched, arms crossed over his massive chest and a smug look on his face. “Surely Frigga wouldn’t expect me to participate in such a cloying, useless exercise.”

”She would and you know it!” Thor insisted. “I don’t see what all your complaining is about, brother. It is very little work, after all. You just pull out one name and buy that person gifts for a week. And in exchange, you get gifts! Seven of them, including a big one at the end on Christmas Day!”

”Christmas,” Loki sneered. “Why should we, Gods ourselves, have to celebrate the birth of one little Midgard deity with all this fuss?”

”Because it’s fun! And it makes the mortals happy, it builds team moral, and because you promised Mother!”

The last reminder cut off Loki’s snide response and he lowered his head in defeat. He had promised Frigga that he would do his best to play nice, to fit in. But the truth was it didn’t matter what he did, no one here would ever see him as more than the soulless, would-be-tyrant who had tried to kill them all. Never mind that he had been under the influence of a powerful, malevolent force at the time. Never mind that he had done his best even so controlled to sabotage the takeover. They saw the monster, not the person.

“No one wants me there, Thor,” he said at last in a sad, quiet voice. “I will just ruin the fun for everyone else.”

”Nonsense! I know at least one person who would love to have you involved!”

”Oh really? And who would that be?” Loki tried to make his voice snide, but inside he was desperate for one, just one of these mortals to see the real him, to understand.

“Why me, of course!”

Loki tried to not show his disappointment. What else could he expect? As Thor smiled at him expectantly, looking for the world like an over grown puppy, Loki sighed in defeat.

“Very well. Explain to me how this works. “

***

”So this is how it works,” Rogers, standing in the midst of a throng of fifty or so heroes, agents, and scientists enthused. “The names of everyone who has chosen to participate are in this hat. You each draw out one, and for the next week you buy that person a gift and leave it for them in secret. On Saturday, Christmas Day, you give them their final, largest present and reveal your identity.”

"Yeah, tell us again Gramps, how does Christmas work? It's not like we've all been doing this for years or anything," Stark snarked from where he leaned against a wall.

"Not everyone was here last time," Steve's voice was calm despite the slight blush that colored his cheeks. "And there are one or two new rules..."

"Such as? What, were our gifts not wiz bang enough for you?" Tony challenged.

"Such as no trading names," Steve gave a hard look around at his grumbling colleagues. "The name you draw is the name you buy for. Also, there is a strict price limit on the amount of each gift. We don't need a repeat of last year."

"Hey, I'm not complaining, I love the Thunderbird!" Clint chimed in with you a grin.

"It suited you," Tony said, popping a blueberry into his mouth. "All about the branding, my friend. A bird for the bird man."

"True as that maybe," Rogers struggled to pull the conversation back, "it's not really great for team spirit when one person gets a vintage car and another gets a sweater."

"Not my fault if you all suck at gift giving."

"Whatever, just stay in the limit!"

Loki slouched lower into his chair, wondering how long this farce was going to continue. Why could they not just give his a name so that he could escape this collection of battling egos all hopped up on cookies and self importance? Not that the cookies were bad. He would definitely steal some more of those on his way out.

"Okay, Peter, as our youngest Avenger, You're the best suited to play the part of the elf. Bring the hat around and let people pick."

"These people have clearly never seen elves before," Thor chucked to him. "The boy is far to short for one."

"Clearly," Loki sighed.

Peter took the red felt hat with the fake white fur from Rogers and smiled happily around at them all, shaking it to mix up the names.

"Loki, why don't you pick first?" Thor boomed with over compensating volume.

"Makes sense, reindeer bringing the toys and all. Although I think Rudolph's on the naughty list himself," Stark quipped.

"You're hardly one to talk, Blitzen," Rhodey snarked back at him. "Go on, Loki, pull a name."

Sighing heavily, Loki reached in and pulled out a name.

"Ridiculous," he said without thinking. "I have no idea what to buy for the spider child."

"He's a boy, Loki," Thor shrugged as Peter gaped at them. "All boys like weapons. Sword, knives, a battle axe perhaps?"

"Okay, let's put that name back in the hat!" Tony insisted, snatching the piece of paper out of Loki's hand and placing it back in the hat.

"But Cap said no trading!" Parker protested.

All eyes swung to Rogers, who looked torn about how to proceed.

"I think we can make an exception in this one case," Natasha made the executive decision. "Go ahead and pick another name. And this time, don't tell us who you get."

Rolling his eyes, Loki pulled another name. He didn't even bother to read it before sliding it into his pocket. A disappointed looking Peter moved on with the hat and the weary God sunk back into his chair. It was not much longer before a general rowdiness had overcome the room and he was able to slink out and back to his room. It was less lonely there, alone.

***

It was approaching noon when Loki made his way to the kitchen area for his first cup of coffee. Mornings were not his favorite, so he tended to avoid them whenever possible. This gave him the added bonus of also avoiding most of the others, like his brother who would bound out of bed with the rising sun. In Loki's opinion, no one should speak before noon or three cups of coffee, which ever came second.

As he took his giant mug with the snake handle down off the shelf, Loki noticed something was rattling around in it. Right, he thought. Today was the first day of the pointless gift exchange. He had almost forgotten about it in the three days since the names had been drawn. He himself had drawn Scott Lange, the annoyingly verbal man with the resizing trick. It had been an adequately simple selection. The man was inordinately fond of what passed for magic in this world. All Loki had needed to do was select a few items from his pocket dimension and repurpose them as gifts. He had done so that very afternoon, dropping them on Thor's coffee table and declaring that he was not dignifying the proceedings by wrapping or hiding the presents. Appeased by that much participation, Thor had promised to make sure that they were delivered each day, congratulating Loki like a difficult school child for making an effort.

Well, time to see what the poor fool who had the misfortune to draw his name had gotten for Loki. No doubt something trite - a candle, or a pair of sox or some such. If he were lucky, perhaps it would be some sort of candy. He did enjoy the sweets on this realm, he had to admit. Mostly, he just hoped it wouldn't explode.

Pulling the object from the mug, he found a narrow box wrapped in green paper and decorated with gold ribbon. It was pretty, for all that it was unwanted. He slid the ribbon off the end and carefully unwrapped the paper, still half expecting some trick to blow up in his face.

Opening the box, Loki looked inside to see a deceptively simple looking gold pen. When he took it out, he noted how nice it felt in his hand. It was not one of the cheap plastic instruments that cluttered most desks in the tower, but made of a sturdy metal. There was a nice weight to it, and the smooth surface was comfortable to grip. Taking off the cap, he pulled a discarded newspaper to him and drew a simple rune on it. The ink, a lovely shade of deep emerald, came out smooth and easy. Instinctively his signed his name and was impressed by how elegant it looked.

"Oh Loki! Your first gift! What did you get?" Thor demanded, coming up behind him and looking expectantly over his shoulder.

"A pen."

"Ah. Well, I'm sure your next present will be better. don't worry," Thor patted him overly hard on the back."

"What did you get?" he asked absentmindedly, twirling the gold pen between his long fingers and appreciating how it felt.

"A plastic rifle that shoots water!" Thor enthused. I've just come to replenish my ammunition, then I'm off to find Banner!"

"Say hello to the beast for me," Loki rolled his eyes as his brother bounded out of the room, toy gun in hand. With a small smile he pocketed the pen and sat down to drink his coffee.

The next morning a book awaited him, again wrapped neatly in green paper. At first he was annoyed by the subject: "Christmastide, the Yule Traditions that Spawned it and How We Celebrate it Today." True, he was not an expert on the Mortal holiday, but there was no need to rub in his deficiency. Still, as he sat drinking his coffee he allowed himself to glance at the preface. Two hours later he looked up and realized that he had finished the entire book in one go. He had never realized how much of the festivities of the season came from Norse origins. While he might not particularly like the idea of the omnipresent Santa Clause being a variant of Odin and the Wild Hunt, he did look over at the decorated tree with a new appreciation. He supposed he might have to give the holiday some more thought.

Much to his surprise, when Loki wandered into the kitchen the next morning he realized that he was looking forward to finding what gift would next be awaiting him. It turned out that his wish of the first day came true - it was sweets. No store bought candies were left for him, however. A box of homemade cookies cut and decorated to resemble little men was addressed to him. Looking closer, he saw that some of the cookies were dressed as the Midgard version of Elves, some as Santas, and that a few had been cunningly cut so that they appeared to be wearing tiny replicas of his helmet and cape! Loki stared in bemusement at the little representations of himself in among the other Christmas cookies. Dressed as they all were in green and gold, it seemed as though he fit right in with the other characters. He was uncertain how he felt about that, but the aroma coming from the box left no doubt in his mind as to how he felt about the cookies. Picking up a Santa and remembering the book linking them to Odin, he took a large bite of it's head. Delicious and therapeutic in one!

As his mood improved each day, Loki also found himself waking earlier in anticipation of his presents. The fourth day he arrived so much earlier than usual that other people still sat about finishing up their own morning meals. From beneath his eyelids he scrutinized each and every one of them as he walked to the cupboard. One of these people with whom he had been living and working was the purchaser of these gifts, he realized. Why that had not occurred to him before he wasn't sure, but the realization hit him hard now.

Who could it possibly be? Each of the gifts had been thoughtful, unique, and perfect for Loki. Someone had obviously put quite a bit of thought and effort into selecting things for him. Suppressing a strange pang at the pile of accumulated arcana he had dumped with Thor for Lange, he mentally ran through the people he could remember from the drawing. None of them seemed likely. Who was his gifter?

As he pondered this, Loki saw a square box on the shelf next to his mug with the telltale green and gold wrapping. He pulled it down off the shelf, ignoring his snake mug, and tore off the paper, wanting to know what knew unlooked for surprise awaited him. A tinkling of music played as he reached in and pulled out a fragile looking orb on a porcelain pedestal.

A music box, he realized. The globe was made of clear glass, and inside was some sort of liquid in which floated little specks of something made to look like snow. In the center on what looked like a frozen lake stood a woman with long, reddish gold hair in a blue dress and a little boy with black hair in a green coat. Carefully, Loki turned the little gold key sticking out of one side of the pedestal and the pair of figures began to move about as if skating while a song he distantly recognized as belonging to this season played from the base. He had never realized how pretty the tune was before.

Looking around quickly, he put the music box back in the packaging, surreptitiously wiping a tear from the corning of his eye and hopefully making it look like a hair flip. Foregoing his coffee, he returned to his room where he spent over an hour watching and listening to the toy.

***

"Who is participating in the gift exchange?" he demanded as Steve Rogers opened the door to his rooms.

"Oh, Loki, hi. Good to see you," Rogers looked almost comically confused as he blinked at the God who had been banging on his door. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes," Loki struggled to keep his voice even. "The Santa exchange -"

"Secret Santa. Yeah, what about it?"

"Who is participating?"

"Lots of people. You were there, you saw as well as me."

"Do you have a list?"

"A list?"

"Yes, a list of who put their names in. Of who is buying gifts, and for whom?"

"What? No. No, I didn't make a list. Why? Hey, if someone got you something inappropriate or mean, or if they aren't giving you your presents, just let me know and I'll take care of it..." Rogers gave him a sympathetic half smile.

"There's no list?" Humans were insufferably inefficient.

"Afraid not. Everything okay? With your gifts?"

"Yes. My gifts are fine. More than fine, in fact. That's the problem."

"Why is that a problem?" Rogers asked.

"Who would get me satisfactory gifts?" Loki demanded, sounding almost aggrieved. "Who could?"

"Someone who pays attention?"  Steve suggested.

"If it is you..." Loki narrowed his eyes, assessing the hero.

"Not me, I got Thor," Steve said, raising his hands. "Don't tell him that though. Or Bruce. I hear he's getting the brunt of the attacks."

"The little suction arrows were clever," Loki allowed with a grin. "One of them made a mark on Banner's forehead that has yet to fade."

"Aw, man. I'm going to pay for that."

"You truly don't know who my gifter is?"

"Nope, sorry, Loki. You're going to have to wait for Saturday to find out."

Waiting was not among Loki's talents in cases like this. Thwarted in his attempt to obtain an official list, he decided to try and cobble together one of his own. Sitting at his desk with his superior green and gold pen, Loki attempted to create a list of all of the people who had been in the common room when the drawing had taken place. There were the Avengers themselves, of course. Loki considered each of them, but with the exception of a brief moment when Wanda Maximoff seemed as though she might possibly be a dark horse, he quickly scratched them off. None of them possessed the type of personality to look at their foe and see the man beneath.

This left agents, scientists, and a few other functionaries. Try as he might, Loki could not put names to any of them beyond two or three particularly unfriendly spies who had made perfectly clear that they would gladly throw him out the same window he through which he had sent Stark flying. He would need to do more investigating.

Practically sprinting into the kitchen the next morning, he ignored the strange looks he received from the other occupants and grabbed a parcel in the now familiar wrapping. As he tore into it he wondered what new delight would be within. When he unrolled the large book he gave a bark of laughter. In contrast to the heartfelt gift of yesterday, today's gift was a book of pictures to be colored, all of them depicting mythical creatures such as unicorns and dragons happily offering off color invectives. As he flipped through the book, Loki couldn't help but chuckle at the juxtaposition of cute, fanciful animals and obscene comments. He would enjoy coloring them and leaving them as gifts for Thor and the other Avengers.

Rolling the book back up and stuffing it into his back pocket, Loki headed down to the main science lab. He spent the balance of the day prowling the floor, peering through lowered eyelids at all of the busy workers. Could one of them be the person selecting all of these items for him? It seemed more likely somehow than one of the agents. Scientists would have less first hand reason to dislike him, and might also understand a nature such as his that hid as much as it showed.

By the end of the day, he believed he had narrowed the candidates down to four. All of them were on the quiet side. One was a geneticist, one a cryptologist, and two worked in the medical ward. He could not decide who it was amongst them, but he knew who he hoped for. Silently, keeping his distance, he followed her upstairs at the end of her shift. How had he never noticed her before?

Despite staying in the dining area, not his usual habit, Loki could not quite work up the nerve to talk to her. Once or twice her eyes flicked his way, but then they always went right back to her food. He couldn't exactly blame her. Loki knew he was staring. He couldn't help it.

Once last mystery present awaited him. After that, on Saturday, the rules stated that the "Santas" reveal themselves. Loki was not about to leave that to chance, however. He needed to know who it was, and he need a chance to talk to them. He knew that the morning's present would arrive in the usual spot. Grabbing his now precious pen, he scrawled a quick note.

Showing once more a kindred spirit, he discovered that his donor had also written him a missive. Nestled in a box beneath a ring - gold wire with small green stones - was a brief folded piece of parchment printed on with an elegant hand.

"I noticed like me you need help getting through all the long meetings and briefings," the note read. "Perhaps this will be less conspicuous than a knife." After, in a sloppier postscript, was added, "I will meet you tomorrow as requested. I hope you are not disappointed."

He couldn't sleep. All night, Loki paced his room, playing with the beads on ring that fit perfectly on his finger. He would meet them - he didn't want to commit to the idea that it was the woman he suspected - tomorrow. He would get to talk to this person. Perhaps they would not flinch when he approached. He would look into the eyes of someone who seemed to have seen into his soul. What would those eyes do? Smile welcomingly, or shut down? If the latter, how would he survive the disappointment?

***

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" Thor bellowed, barging into his room. "Loki! You're awake!"

"After that greeting, how could I not be?" Loki snapped.

"And dressed," Thor narrowed his eyes. "You're excited, aren't you? For Santa!"

"Santa is a myth," Loki huffed, fixing his hair once more in the mirror.

"I've heard how you've been getting up early to look for your gifts. And now, look at you! Up and ready, dressed for the occasion!"

"I always wear green."

"With red accents? I think not. No need to be embarrassed, brother! Christmas is magical! A time of peace and love! Now, come on! I want to see what weapon Santa has brought me today!"

Suppressing a moment of fear, Loki followed him out the door and down to the common area. It was still a few minutes before he had arranged through his note to meet them. Internally his tension rose to an almost unimaginable. Level.

"There he is!"

As Loki raised his coffee to his lips he was hit from the side by a flying tackle, sending hot liquid down his chin and onto his green cashmere sweater.

"I knew it had to be you!"

Pulling a kerchief from nowhere and wiping at his face, Loki turned to glare at Scott Lange.

"Oh, hey man, sorry about that. Here! Let me help!"

With a wide grin, the human pulled his own handkerchief from an invisible location and ineffectually swiped at Loki's chest. He had to admit, the man had produced the fabric with some skill. Perhaps he was not completely inept.

"I loved every one of my gifts!" Lange was babbling at him.

"You did?"

"Oh man, you have no idea! I am the king of the PTA Dads' Club! Look, I can pull an actual rabbit out of the air!"

"No no," Loki stopped him quickly before the animal could appear. "I believe you. I am glad the gifts pleased you."

"They are awesome. Listen, if you ever want to get together and talk about magic, just let me know! I am up for anything!"

"You are... alright. Well I will keep that in mind."

"Oh, look! There's Strange! I'm going to go show him my bunny! Call me man!"

In bemusement Loki watched the man spring away, smirking as he accosted the obviously unamused Strange. Well, so much for feeling guilty over his lack of thought! His gifts had been a great success.

It was still a few minutes before the appointed meeting time, but Loki could wait no longer. Downing the rest of his coffee and doing a quick spell to freshen his breath, Loki headed through the glass doors onto the enclosed balcony that ringed the floor. Before him the streets of New York glittered under a fresh blanket of snow. He could see, in that moment, why people thought this time of year was magical.

meow

The noise startled him out of his contemplation. Looking down, Loki saw a small black kitten stalking towards him, tail raised but tipped at the end in a sign of play.

"Well hello, little one," he smiled, going down on one knee. "Where did you come from and how did you get out hear?"

The animal scampered over to him and began chewing on his pinky as he attempted to pet it. Loki chuckled and indulged in a brief game of tug, impressed by the tenacity of such a small cat.

"Oh, there you are!" the voice was full of equal parts exasperation and relief.

Loki's eyes shot up and he rose quickly to his feet as the woman came out onto the balcony. It was her. Dressed in a pretty yet simple green top and skirt, hair tied back with a green ribbon, she was a picture of understated Christmas beauty. As her eyes rose shyly to his, Loki's heart began to beat faster. He had not dared to hope, but yet in his heart, he had always known.

"Me, or this little fellow?" he asked with a smile.

"Um... both actually," she answered nervously with a smile.

"Then it is you."

"Me?"

"My Santa."

"Ye-ah. It's me," she ducked her head, obviously embarrassed. "I'm sorry they weren't more... I don't know... grand?"

"Grand?" he echoed.

"Fancy? I mean, you're a prince. A pen, a coloring book... I'm sure you must be used to better presents."

"If only you knew," his voice was laced with irony. "How did you know? How did you know just what to buy me?"

"You.. you liked them then?"

"No one in my life, not even those who have known me hundreds of years, could have found gifts more suited to my nature."

"Oh, good," she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

For a few moments they both stood there, neither speaking, both blushing awkwardly.

meow!  The cat began trying to climb Loki's leg.

"Mischief! Behave yourself!" she scolded, scooping the kitty up into her arms and making Loki jealous of a cat.

"Mischief?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"If it's okay with you," she hurried to add.

"Why should I get a say?"

"Because he's yours," she said in a rush. "If you want him, I mean. I know you're not supposed to give pets as presents, and if you don't want him I will happily keep him for myself. But I was thinking and thinking of what to get you for your final present and I thought 'well, what does Loki need more than anything else?' and I realized it was obvious. You needed love. You needed someone to love you best and unconditionally. We all need that, of course, but after all that you've been through... every thing done to you and the way some of the others treat you... you need it more than most. And then I was remembered that Shannon's cat had kittens, and she was looking for homes for them. This little fellow just seemed like he belonged with you. The black coat, green eyes..."

"And inability to behave himself?" Loki added as Mischief attempted to climb onto her shoulder.

"Well, yeah," she admitted with a rueful laugh. "I mean, would you want a cat who always did as he was supposed to? Where would be the fun it that?"

"Too true."

"So, do you want him?"

"Very much."

"Here."

Carefully, she passed the squirming bundle of fur into Loki's hands. The kitten, over excited and uncertain how to react, began to simultaneously purr and nip at his sweater. Loki laughed softly, knowing just how he felt.

"I knew you were made for each other! I have stuff for him as well, I wouldn't just drop him on you. I can have it brought to your rooms. Well, Merry Christmas, Loki."

"Caroline, wait," Loki said desperately as she turned to walk back inside.

"You know my name?" she sounded in shock.

"I do. I was hoping it was you."

"I didn't think you even knew who I was."

"I didn't," he admitted. "Not until two days ago. I was going insane, trying to determine who had gotten me such well suited gifts. I winnowed down the possibilities to a few and well... when I observed you my heart insisted that you were the one."

"Observed us? Is that why you were skulking around the ER the other day?"

"It was. I was watching a certain capable doctor going about her rounds. Well, and an orderly, but I was fairly certain it wasn't him. He only ate salad for lunch, and after the sinful cookies I knew it had to be someone who appreciated sweets. I am so very glad to be proven correct."

"You liked the cookies? It's my grandmother's recipe."

"I liked everything you gave me. But more than that, I like that you thought to give them to me. That you thought of me."

"I think of you more than I should," she said, and then turned bright red.

"I have thought of nothing but you since I saw you."

"Why? I'm not exactly a beauty, Loki. I mean, like you said you never even noticed me before."

"No, you don't have a beauty that jumps out at one. Yours is a quieter beauty. Subtle, lovely and lasting. And more than that, there is a kindness in you. It was in each of your gifts and it is in your eyes as well. It lights you from within."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I asked to meet you out here for numerous reasons," he said, taking a step towards her. "First, it is private. No brawling heroes to interrupt. Second, the view is superb. And third..."

"Third?" she prompted when his voice trailed off.

"The book you gave me spoke of mistletoe. Now, while I categorically reject the role it claims I play in the story, I do appreciate the idea of rebirth. Of life and hope returning after a period of long darkness."

"I think we can all use that," she agreed quietly.

"I was also amused by the tradition surrounding it at this time of year."

"You mean..."

"Look up Caroline," he instructed.

Her eyes flew upward to see the orbs of the greenery Tony had hung from the ceiling of the balcony in decoration. They then darted back down to his, wide and uncertain.

"It is Christmas, and it is the custom," he reminded her, hand going to the side of her face. "May I?"

She nodded silently and Loki brought his lips to hers in a long, sweet kiss that filled him with a swelling joy. Stiff at first, Caroline melted as his kissed her, swaying into him.

MEOW!!!

Mischief, suddenly finding himself squashed between them, gave out a angered yell and dug his claws into Loki's chest. With a rueful chuckle the god stepped back, chastising the feline in Norse.

"Merry Christmas, Loki," Caroline said, smiling up at him.

"It is indeed," he smiled back. "A very Merry Christmas."

#Loki #Loki Fan Fic #Avengers #Avengers Tower #Christmas #Loki/OFC #Secret Santa #Fluff #Tooth achingly sweet #Loki needs a hug #Loki gets a hug! #Post Avengers Assemble #MCU #Gift exchange #Soft Loki #Regretful Loki #thor is a good bro #This is so sweet #I can't believe I wrote this #I must be in a mood #Romance #Loki deserves nice things #So I gave them to him

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Congratulations on the milestone, it is well deserved. Would it be possible to get number 8 with Loki please? xx

Insomnia

A/N: Well hi there! You didn’t mention fluff or smut so I’m taking up smut lol. Thank you so much for your kind words ❤️

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, fluff, semi-smut.

Requests & Challenges

Tom Hiddleston/Loki Taglist – @delightfulheartdream @what-a-flammable-heart @castiels-majestic-wings @lokis-leah

Everything Taglist: @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry

.

Evening drew on long and boring as you scrolled through nonsense social media in hopes that your eyes would eventually tire out and you’d fall asleep.

Sadly, that didn’t happen.

For some reason, you couldn’t sleep even though your body was tired to the bone, thanks to the gruelling workout session with the team in the morning.

Your room only lit by the dim yellow night lamp by your bedside, suddenly saw a glowing green and golden flash of light before the God of Mischief made his presence known, almost giving you a mini heart attack in the process.

“Fucking hell Loki. How many times do I have to tell you never do that again? Do you not want me to live?” Placing your hand on your heart rather dramatically, your glared at the love of your life who seemed all too pleased with your reaction.

“And miss that precious face you make? I think I’ll take my chances love.”

Loki approached the bed slowly, a smirk still decorating his handsome features. The light in the room making him appear more ethereal.

“If I’m not wrong, you’re usually asleep at this hour, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong today. I’m so tired.” You yawned, emphasising your point further before standing up on your knees to meet Loki halfway for a kiss.

He was always cool to touch, his lips firm yet soft against your own, arms sliding around your back before holding your neck firmly with one and deepening the kiss by tilting his head.

“If you can’t sleep, how about we have sex?”

Loki’s quiet suggestion against your lips took you by surprise. He wasn’t this direct ever, even if he was the initiator, he would act, never say.

This was definitely a first. Breaking the kiss abruptly, you stared at him.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing?”

“Loki!”

“Well on your insistence I happened to come across a few televised movies in my spare time and saw the protagonist utter this exact same dialogue. I was simply curious as to know it’s effect.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that threatened to burst from your lips at this admission. Loki’s eyes swam with sincerity along with cunningly veiled intents as he narrowed them at you.

“This isn’t the desired outcome you know.” Loki huffed, watching you recede as another bout of giggles took over.

“Well then what is?”

“Allow me to show you, my sweet.” He purred, looming over you as you settled back onto your pillows, legs parting enough to accommodate Loki’s slender ones between them.

Dipping his head he captured you in a searing kiss that had your surroundings melt away. His raven black hair felt soft as your fingers carded through them, earning a groan from the God.

Your sleep shirt found it’s way on the floor soon along with your panties, joined by his Midgardian clothing, leaving you bare under Loki’s lust-filled gaze.

“Exquisite...” he murmured against your heated skin, trailing kisses down your neck.

Your mind replayed his previous words, causing another bout of giggles to escape.

“Quiet now pet.”

Loki growled in your ear, the sound travelling straight to your core as he pinned your arms above your head roughly, marking your skin and making your whimper.

Needless to say your laughter evaporated into something else as he worshipped your body with his sinful touches. The sounds that echoed through your room made it clear that sleep was to evade you for long time.

1.2k Celebration Prompts

#loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fluff #loki fluff #loki x reader #loki laufeyson imagine #1200 followers #milestone celebration #marvel fanfiction #loki laufeyson oneshot #loki fanfiction

[just-the-hiddles]

The Gentleman and The Scoundrel | Thomas Sharpe x Adam x Reader

A/N: So this is what happens when I have weird dreams.  Involving Adam and Sir Thomas Sharpe.  In my defense, my dream was significantly tamer than what you are about to read.  First time writing a threesome.

Relationship: Sir Thomas Sharpe x Adam x Reader

Warnings: SMUT to include: sex (vaginal, oral, anal), fingering, finger sucking, double penetration (vaginal and anal), spit roasting, threesome, voyeurism, anal play, open relationship/marriage, masturbation, cursing, biting, vampirism

Word Count: 2345

Summary:  Your husband’s friend, Lord Adam Marlowe, has been staying at Allerdale Hall. Your thoughts have been becoming more and more troublesome.  And then one night...

The Whole Enchilada:  @winterisakiller @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty @hopelessromanticspoonie @pinkzz123 @jessiejunebug @cherrygeek86 @littleredstarfish @rjohnson1280 @the-minus-four @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @catsladen @coppercorn-and-cauldron @gerli49 @lovesmesomehiddles @devilbat @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope @noplacelikehome77 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @snoopy3000 @voila-tout @kitkatd7 @wolfsmom1 @queenoftheunderdark @xxloki81xx @thewaithfuckingannoyme @kcd15 @amirra88 @malkaviangirl @evanlys19 @thejemersoninferno @sadwaywardkid @is-it-madness @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @peterman-spideyparker @caffiend-queen @sleepylunarwolf @anagrom @bradfordbantams @ms-cellanies @what-just-happened-bro @stubby-toe-589331 @alexakeyloveloki @loki-smut-library @imnotrevealingmyname @trippedmetaldetector @tea4sykes @noambition-blog @sherala007 @vodka-and-some-sass @cursethedarkness @jewels2876 @fixatedfandomhunter @myraiswack @lokikenway97 @groovylokifanficpersona @ciaodarknessmyheart @bitchcraft-at-its-finest @hanyasnape @lokislastlove @stuckysdaughter @theunwantedomega @dryyoursaltyoceantears @petitefirecracker10 @thummbelina @andreasworlsboring101 @krazycags01 @howaboutash @thehumanistsdiary @daddylouislittle @flakyfreak @sigyn-njorddottir @green-valkyrie @usedtobegoodfriend96 @salempoe @traumschiffe @letsdisneythings @arch-venus25 @thefuckthesaurus​

Story:  @turniptitaness

TAG LISTS ARE OPEN!  PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED TO WHOLE ENCHILDADA, HIDDLES, LOKI AND/OR BOSTON BRO! Thank you for reading!!

-

“You were quiet at dinner tonight.” Thomas commented as the two of you readied for bed.

“I didn’t realize you noticed. Apologies.” You pulled back the covers of the four-poster bed.

Thomas moved and pulled back the covers on his side and the two of you slipped between the sheets. You settled your head onto the pillows and turned to face your husband. Thomas followed suit.

“No apologies are necessary. You kept a close eye on Lord Marlowe.”

You shivered at the mention of Lord Adam Marlowe. “I believe he kept just a close eye on me. I feel as though his eyes are always upon me. And the fact his appearance is so similar to yours is unsettling.”

Your chest tightened, and your stomach fluttered. There was an uneasiness there, but it wasn’t because you feared Adam. Quite the opposite. The way he spoke about music and science and literature seemed far more advanced than his young age. His eyes would sparkle as he spoke of Lord Byron, as if the two were close friends. That passion made your mind wander to thoughts not polite to share in any company and certainly were improper thoughts of a married woman. But all that seemed to make things that much worse. You did not realize your stolen glances at Lord Marlowe had been caught.

Thomas cupped your face. “I hadn’t recognized the similarities until now. Perhaps we share a distant ancestor.”

You fiddled with the sleeve of your nightgown. “Perhaps. The resemblance is remarkable.” you muttered.

He smirked as he scooted you close, his arms wrapping around your waist. “If Lord Marlowe’s presence bothers you so, I shall speak to him in the morning.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.” you fretted.

Thomas pressed his lips to your forehead. “Nonsense. You are the Lady of Allerdale Hall and my wife. Your comfort is as important as anything else in this house.” You smiled. “Now…” Thomas ran his fingers from your cheek down your chin to trail to the neckline of your nightgown. “… Allow me to occupy your mind with more pleasant thoughts.”

His hand pushed your gown off one shoulder as his lips nipped behind your ear and then moved down your neck until you sighed as he suckled the one spot that sent tingles to your core.

“Oh Thomas.” you moaned through parted lips.

He chuckled as he continued down to your shoulder. “Do you like that my sweet?”

“Very much so.”

“Then…” He tugged at your nightshirt. “… allow me to rid you of the encumbrance.”

You lifted your arms to allow him to remove your nightgown. Thomas twisted his body to cover yours. His mouth sucking marks along your collarbone before moving down to your breasts. You arched your back to meet his lips. His hands slid along your sides, fingertips grazing your soft skin. His touch sending electricity through your body.

Clatter. Both your heads snapped towards the door. Passion interrupted.

“What was that?” You gripped his shoulder and your voice trembled.

“I am not sure.” Thomas’s brow furrowed. “Would you like to me to go check?”

You nodded. Thomas kissed you. “I’ll return shortly.”

He stood from the bed. You couldn’t help but notice his erection through the thin nightgown. Thomas followed your gaze and smiled.

“Soon my love.” He tugged on a dark blue dressing gown. He kissed you one more time before heading out into the hallway.

You settled back under the covers. Your hand rang over the curves of your breasts and you shivered in anticipation for what was to come. As you closed your eyes, your mind wandered first to Thomas. But soon images of Adam Marlowe invaded your mind.

In your mind, your hands moved up and down his body, exploring every inch and soon a second pair of hands exploring yours. You turned to see Thomas smiling behind you, his pupils large and lust blown. His lips ravishing your neck as Adam’s tongue explored your mouth. The creak of the door snapped you back.

“That didn’t take long.” You turned your gaze to the door and allowed the covers to fall away from your body as you sat up.

Something wasn’t right. The silhouette illuminated by the moon didn’t quite match Thomas’s. The hair straight where there should be curls, the dressing gown an unfamiliar shape. You pulled the covers back up.

“Who is it?” you called out, although you suspected you knew the intruder.

Adam stepped out of the shadows. His red striped dressing gown left untied, the sides hung loose at his sides. He wore no nightgown or undergarments. Your eyes couldn’t resist raking over his lean form. You lingered your eyes a second too long on a particular part of his anatomy, earning a slight smile.

“It’s Lord Marlowe, ma’am.” he responded, taking a step closer. You pulled the covers tighter despite the urge to drop them, revealing your naked form to a man who is not your husband.

“You forget your place, sir. I would suggest you leave before my husband returns.” you mustered as much courage as you could, but your voice still wavered.

Adam chuckled as a second form appeared in the shadows.

“You’re late.” Thomas stepped into view.

“I wasn’t exactly looking at a clock.”

“Thomas?”

Thomas stepped next to Adam. The two of them smiled down on you. Adam licked his lips.

“I thought we could try something different tonight.” Thomas moved towards and sat on the bed beside you. “I’ve seen the way you stare at Lord Marlowe.” Thomas leaned to whisper. “I know you want him.”

You gasped and squirmed in place. Thomas chuckled and beckoned Adam to join him on the bed.

“It’s all right.” Adam commented. “I have that effect on people.”

“But we are married…” you sputtered. “and, and…”

Thomas put a finger to your lips before replacing it with his own lips. “And who is to say that a married couple can’t be…” He tugged on your bottom lip. “… flexible.”

You pulled back and stared into his eyes before your eyes darted towards Adam, whose stare matched Thomas’s, pleading, wanting, loving.

“What do you say?” Adam piped up.

You nodded hesitantly, not trusting your voice to not crack.

“You won’t be disappointed.” Thomas responded before standing. “She’s all yours. For now.”

“Where are you going?” you worried. “I thought…”

Thomas dropped his dressing gown to the floor, soon followed by his nightgown. “I’ll be right here.” He settled himself into a nearby chair. “Watching.”

Adam scooted closer and leaned in. His breath hot on your neck. “What do you say, darling? Care to put on a show for your husband over there?” Thomas winked at you.

You didn’t nod or speak but turned to face Adam and took his face into your hands and kissed him. Adam’s hands wrapped around your neck, his thumbs grazing across the line of your chin. The two of you breathed in each other as the embrace deepened. His lips traveled from yours down to your neck. His nose nuzzled against you and his whiskers scraped the skin. He nipped there with his teeth, certain to leave a mark.

“I bet you taste delicious.” he commented as his hands moved to cup your breasts. He pinched at your nipples and chuckled as it elicited a moan from you.

“She does taste delicious.” Thomas commented from the chair. His hand lazily stroking himself. “Try for yourself.”

Adam smiled and returned his attention to you. You laid back down on the soft coverings. Adam positioned himself between your legs. He used his shoulders to push them apart further. He kissed along your inner thigh as his hands held you fast. You held your breath as Adam’s breath was hot on your skin. You felt as though you would burst if he didn’t touch you in the next second.

Adam licked a long fat stripe along your slit with the flat of your tongue.

“Oh God!” you yelled up before clapping a hand over your mouth.

“I want to hear you, dear.” Thomas called out. “I want to hear your pleasure.”

You removed your hand and Adam continued. His mouth and tongue wrote a symphony upon you. He alternated between lavishing attention upon your clit and your folds.

“You’re right, Thomas. She is exquisite.” Adam chuckled against you.

As his nose nuzzled against your bundle of nerves, your release grew closer. As though Adam could sense it, he plunged a single long finger inside of you.

“Fuck!” you hissed as you gripped the sheet. It wasn’t ladylike, but then again neither was having a man who was not your husband finger your most intimate areas.

Thomas groaned from his chair as he watched the entire scene play out. You on your back, legs splayed open with another man between them. Your mouth fell open as you moaned and groaned wantonly. He continued to stroke his cock, holding off his own release until he had his fill of you. No easy feat.

Adam added a second finger, and you gasped again as he grazed against the spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Yes! I’m close.” you breathed.

“Come for us, darling.” Adam prodded, curling his fingers inside of you. “We want to see you come undone.”

Adam’s words spurred on your orgasm and you screamed as your walls clenched around him. You fisted the sheets on either side of you. Adam continued to pump his fingers inside of you, only pulling them out once you stilled.

“Come taste your wife, Thomas.” Adam offered his fingers.

Thomas greedily licked your juices off the other man’s fingers. The eroticism of the act sent a shiver down your spine. Adam removed his fingers from Thomas’s mouth.

“Ready for more?” Thomas leaned down to ask you.

“Yes please.”

Thomas smiled. “Good girl. Will you let me and Adam get you in the proper position?”

You nodded. Thomas glanced at Adam, who removed himself from between your legs but remained at the end of the bed.

Thomas pulled you to sitting and flipped you onto your stomach. Adam lifted your hips to meet his as Thomas kneeled at the head of the bed. His cock bobbed in front of your face. You licked your lips as the tip glistened with pre-cum.

“Take me into your mouth.”

Your mouth dropped open and Thomas pressed the tip against the flat of your tongue. He resisted the urge to thrust deep into your throat. He wanted you in all ways before the night was over.

You lurched forward as Adam impaled himself inside you. Your moans muffled by your husband’s cock. Thomas’s head fell back as you hummed against his shaft.

“God, darling. Yes!” he growled.

“You are so wet.” Adam groaned. “I can’t imagine why.”

The two timed their thrusts, Adam’s sending you forward onto Thomas’s cock while Thomas would send you bucking back onto Adam. Your body vibrated at the sensations.

“She’s close, Thomas.” Adam commented as your walls fluttered against him.

“Do it.”

As your second orgasm crashed upon you, Adam pressed his thumb against your rear entrance.

“Fuck!” you yelled as Thomas pulled himself from your mouth.

The sensation was pleasant but unexpected. He continued to press his finger past the tight ring and into you. You drew a sharp breath.

“Breath me, my dear.” Thomas urged. He played with your breasts and you relaxed.

“She’s ready, Thomas.”

They moved you to the side of the bed. Adam stood at the end of the bed. His cock glistened with your juices, still hard as when he walked into the room. Thomas moved to the end of the bed, his legs hanging off the edge.

“Come.” he beckoned you.

You straddled his hips and lowered yourself onto him. He hissed and gripped your hips.

“But Adam…” you wondered.

“Lean forward.” The man behind you commanded.

You pressed your chest against Thomas’s. Something pressed against your rear entrance. Adam’s hands guided your hips upward, and he pushed his cock into you.

“Oh.. my…” you gasped as the fullness left you breathless.

Thomas circled his thumb on your clit. “Relax dear.”

The men stilled as you adjusted to being filled to the hilt. You wiggled your hips, signaling your readiness. Thomas and Adam thrusted in time so you were never empty. You rocked back and forth. Thomas grabbed your hips, guiding you while Adam reached forward to massage your breasts, twisting and pinching the nipples between his fingers.

“I’m close.” Thomas moaned. “Adam?” He grunted in response. Thomas stared into your eyes. “Can you come for us one more time, darling?”

Thomas adjusted his hips so that his pubic bone grazed along your bundle of nerves. The extra friction was all it took. You screamed and your vison went to white, then black. You clenched against both men. Thomas moaned as he spilled inside your pussy. Adam pulled out to come on your backside. You collapsed against Thomas in exhaustion and ecstasy.

The three of you laid together on the bed, a tangle of limbs and flesh, you sandwiched between the two lean forms. Adam’s whiskers nuzzled against your neck as your head tucked under Thomas’s chin.

“Did you enjoy that, my darling?” Thomas inquired in a soft tone.

You nodded, eyes closed as your body still hummed from the events of that time.

“Would you like Lord Marlowe to stay?”

“Yes please. Can we do that again?”

“Of course, darling.” Adam joined in. “If you want, we could do that for an eternity.” Adam stared at Thomas.

“That sounds nice.” you hummed. “I would like that.”

“Did you hear that, Thomas? She would like that. What do you say, should we keep her as ours forever?”

Thomas grinned as he smoothed your hair back. “Who are we to deny her?”

Your eyes fluttered closed as the two men nuzzled against your neck. So wrapped up in bliss, you didn’t even noticed the two sets of fangs sink into the soft flesh of your neck.

#sir thomas sharpe #adam #olla adam #thomas sharpe #sir thomas sharpe x adam x reader #thomas sharpe x reader #adam x reader #only lovers left alive #crimson peak #olla #thomas sharpe fanfiction #thomas sharpe fanfic #adam fanfiction #adam fanfic #thomas sharpe smut #adam smut #crimson peak fanfiction #crimson peak fanfic #only lovers left alive fanfiction #only lovers left alive fanfic

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Helping Hands Ending

Check out the masterlist here if you need a refresher before seeing how this series ends. 

I was going to attempt to break this down into chapters, but that is kind of beyond me at this point. If y’all could see my notes, you would understand why this has taken me so long to put together since I came back. My brain is a mess and my notes are a mess and oh well! 

Here is the summary of what happens to Haley and Loki. Thank you all for sticking around, for continuing to care after I drop off the face of the planet, and for supporting me no matter what. Y’all are the real MVPs and I’m so so grateful for you. I wish that I could write this as these two deserve, but hopefully this will suffice so that you guys aren’t left hanging.

To help everyone remember what was going on, an attempt to poison Haley with a serum that would basically nullify the benefits of Haley’s accelerated healing ability happened in Chapter 5.  In Chapter 6, there was a jogger who bumped into Haley when she and Loki were hanging out at a duck pond, and she thought the slight pain she felt in that instance was just from the impact. But it wasn’t. The jogger was a Hydra agent.

They discover that she was dosed when Haley sneezes in the beginning of the next chapter:

“Gesundheit.”

“What’s that mean,” Haley frowns at Natasha, trying to place why the word sounds so funny but it proved difficult when her thoughts were so clouded and her head felt oddly heavy.

Natasha stares up at the recipient of her automatic response. “You say it to someone that sneez-”

“Haley doesn’t sneeze,” Loki frowns, his voice rumbling suddenly against Haley’s back, long fingers curling around her forehead.

Haley isn’t supposed to get sick. She doesn’t get colds or the flu or anything running around. Tony and Bruce run some tests, as they do. Loki sticks to her side like glue, which is fine because he doesn’t really carry Midgardian diseases anyway. Haley wears a mask around the Tower and they discover that while she can still heal--after she heals a split knuckle on Natasha’s hand--the rate of her recovery is that of a normal run of the mill human. Not good.

With this knowledge in mind, it’s determined that she won’t be going on missions until Tony works on reversing this Hydra nonsense. Haley isn’t happy about this, but she doesn’t fight it. Being sick actually sucks and she just wants to curl up with Loki on the couch in her hoodie, which is what they do until it’s all hands on deck for a mission concerning Hydra. 

Haley is left alone at the tower. She worries herself sick. Pacing the main living area. Doing a lot of cleaning. Screaming curse words at one point because she’s never been allowed to take up space like that or be so loud and it feels so good. And then they come back.

Hydra had wanted Haley to come along so they could snatch her up. They had an ambush ready for the gang, and nobody returns unscathed. The worst of all the injuries is Loki.

It’s just a cut. Just a little cut across the back of his hand that seeps menacing black venom through his veins. Beautiful porcelain skin turns pallid and cool to the touch, nothing like the inviting heat she’s come to expect. He’s unconscious and he looks so wrong in that hospital bed in the medical wing.

The others strictly forbid her from taking the poison from him. He’s more durable, they argue, alien, and might be able to fight off the worst of it. Might isn’t good enough for Haley, though, but she bides her time. Nobody expects anything when she meekly agrees to just sit with him, not to use her abilities. They don’t think she’s capable of lying, but they forget the hellhole that raised her.

Once the tower is quiet and everyone is asleep, she crawls into the bed next to him and curls up against his eerily still form. She takes the liberty of stroking his hair, of kissing his cheek, of lifting his impossibly heavy arm to wrap around her back so it’s almost like he’s holding her. Because if she’s going to die saving him, then she wants to feel a bit of selfish comfort before she goes. Her hand closes over his and the warmth returns to his skin as a foreboding chill seeps through hers, blazing her nerve endings with white-hot fire before she descends into unconsciousness herself.

Loki wakes the next morning. Passing out stopped Haley from fully taking on all the poison, which meant he still had to fight off the last little bit of it himself before he regained consciousness. He finds Haley halfway on top of him, sees the darkness shifting life-affirming blue to haunting black, and absolutely loses control. A percussive wave of his despair and outrage rolls through the building. Everyone comes running in to see what the cause of the unnatural force could have been.

It takes a week for her wide eyes to blink open again. A week of Loki refusing to leave her side. A week of multiple IV bags of various medicines pumped into her thin wrist and then her inner arm once that port fails. A week of a found family holding their breath and leaning on one another as the stray they took in fights for her life against a poison Tony says may not let her from its clutches.

Chastising her for her actions through his lips pressed into her hair lessens some of the weight of his thickly-spoken commands.

“You can do so much more good for the world than I can,” Haley protests weakly, explaining her actions with her face burrowed into the tender skin of his neck.

His hands grip the hospital gown covering her sharp shoulder blades even more tightly--she hadn’t thought that possible. “But you can do so much for me.”

And that’s basically the end!

Helping Hands Taglist: @kneel-before-queen-loki @alexakeyloveloki @cleocc @coldbookworm @cateyes315 @rjohnson1280 @bambi-butt @skiddleskaddle @myraiswack @midgardian-mistress @kathrynwynterbourne @bluestaratsunrise

Little Bit o’ Loki Taglist: @myownviperroom @darealbellabelleoftheball @boubouinscarlet @iamverity @rt8815 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @ms-cellanies @rosierossette @lokixme @hellethil @birdgirl90 @cateyes315 @weirdfangirl2416

Whole Shebang Taglist:@just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius @sabine-leo @peterman-spideyparker @wegingerangelica @bluefrenchfries604 @catsladen @snoopy3000 @silverswordthekilljoy @villainousshakespeare @kitkatd7 @lots-of-loki @is-it-madness @kangaroobunny @trippedmetaldetector @green-valkyrie @what-just-happened-bro @salempoe @rhemasky @famouslastlove​ @ladyacrasia​ @myraiswack​

#helping hands #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #loki #marvel fanfic #marvel fluff #marvel angst #hopeless writes

[yespolkadotkitty]

Fighting Blind, pt 3

Part I ~ Part II

In the bloody aftermath, the three of us stared down at the huge, inhuman hand that William had severed from the beast with a single clean strike.

“Tao Tei,” I murmured, recognising them from the intricately woven murals on the armour in my exhibits.

“You know what this is?” William demanded. “How?”

“Where I work, I’ve seen them. Woven into art.”

Both men stared at me as if I’d grown an extra head on my shoulders. When neither of them spoke, I stomped moodily over to the horse I had unwillingly shared with Tovar and snatched the water canteen off it, drinking deeply. Drops of water ran down my throat and I savoured the brief coolness.

I surveyed the carnage. The Tao Tei had come over the ridge like a battleship on legs, decimating the bandits, tearing them limb from limb, its reptilian eyes somehow seeing everywhere at once. Its huge jaws rent flesh from bone in scant seconds, and the stench of death, emptied bowels and blood hung in the misty air. I had never longed for a dream to end more in my entire life.

Tovar moved towards the ridge and without thinking I grabbed his arm.

He snarled at me. “What?”

“What are you doing? There could be more.”

He looked me up and down, his face black with a scowl. “I think you know more than you are letting on, princesa.” The word was absolutely not a compliment.

“Fine,” I yelled into his face. “Die, then. It’s only a dream anyway! You aren’t even real.”

Tovar froze, and six feet away, so did William.

They shared a look I couldn’t read. I shoved the crude lid back into the water canteen and tried to scan William’s face.

“What?” I demanded, finally snapping. “Look at me! I’m killing monsters and bandits wearing jeans and a summer t-shirt! In the middle of a desert! With two, what, I don’t know, mercenaries straight out of an action film! What else could this be but a dream?”

I was full on yelling by the time I’d finished, the ends of the words petering out as I screamed myself hoarse.

William held his hands up, palm out, walking toward me slowly like you would with someone who is very likely to brutally stab you in the face with a butter knife. “Your first time in battle? It can muddy things. It happened to boys training in the mercenary guild with me. Taking a life can weigh heavy on your mind.”

Tovar watched us avidly with his big, dark eyes, saying nothing.

“And please, stop yelling. It might attract more of those…. Creatures.”

“Well it doesn’t matter!” I yelled, one hundred and fifty percent done with all this nonsense. I wanted to wake up, watch crappy breakfast television and go to work, hang out with Emma, write applications for funding, maybe do an interview on the radio, catch the tube home, think about updating my profile on OK!Cupid. “It doesn’t matter because-hmmmpf!”

Somehow, Tovar had crept up behind me and shoved a hand over my mouth. I thought about biting him but I didn’t dare. Who knew where those hands had been.

“If you don’t shut your mouth, so help me God, I will shut it for you,” he hissed into my ear. 

The half-octave drop of his voice and the hard press of his armoured body against my back made me feel things I should absolutely not have been feeling.  But hey. Dream-me isn’t always in charge of all her facilities.

“Am I making myself clear?” Tovar ground out, his beard tickling my ear.

I nodded. It seemed the sensible thing to do.

He dragged me closer to his armoured body and I shivered, half in fear, half in… something else. “Listen carefully. We are going to leave this razed camp and find another. By that time it will likely be nightfall. You can come with us now and we will do our best to keep one another safe, or I will turn you loose and leave you to whatever beasts - four and two-legged roam these desert lands.”

I looked over at William. He made the universal palms-up I don’t know gesture. “We’ve no quarrel with you, miss. If you wish to strike out alone….”

For the first time since I’d woken up in this world of blood and guts and desert scrubland, I entertained the fear that maybe this wasn’t a dream.

My knees started to tremble, the little rabbit of terror scrambling up and down my spine relentlessly. Heat swept up through my body, and I recognised it as a precursor to fainting. Again? I was never usually given to cases of the vapours, but I suppose finding that you’ve somehow ended up very very far from home can do that to a normally level-headed person.

“I’m-” I started to say against Tovar’s hand, and then I knew nothing else.

**********

"Do you believe she knows something about this creature we killed?"

"Hard to say. Perhaps dehydration has addled her mind."

I opened one eye and listened as Tovar pontificated about how I might be insane.

It was late, the sun, blisteringly red, setting on the horizon in a blur of crimson, orange and gold. 

A fire crackled in the centre of our little camp, and the sound of rushing water made me sit up, rubbing my sore head.

"Ah, you're awake. Are you feeling better?"

I glanced over at William where he sat idly turning a spit over the fire. Something that had once had fur rotated at the whim of his hand. He looked… clean. The scent of rosemary soap hung in the air. His hair curled, damp.

"A bit. I think. Where are we?"

"You slept most of the day as we rode. We're travelling north."

I blinked away sleep, the scent of roasting meat making my stomach growl greedily. "Where…. Where's Tovar?"

William inclined his head to the left. "Washing in the stream."

At his words I noticed the surprisingly neat pile of armour, furs, fabric and weapons in front of the wall of scrub. I felt a furious blush creep up my neck, and glanced at William to see if he had noticed, but he was occupied with carving a sliver of meat and checking it for readiness.

At the very edge of my hearing there was a soft melody in Spanish. Soulful, barely there, and the possibility that it could be Tovar making the sounds that pulled on my heartstrings gave me pause.

"Tovar!" William called out. "Time to eat."

"Is she awake?" he demanded, grumpy as ever, husky-edge voice carrying over the scrub.

"Yes, she is," I called back.

"Forgive my companion, miss," William muttered. "He only thought to check if he should dress before joining us for our meal. We’re not used to accommodating a lady."

Heat at the instant image of Tovar unclothed flared low in my belly, but before I could quell it, the irritable Spaniard rounded the scrub, dressed in breeches and an untucked black tunic, unlaced at the neck. He had scooped his hair back in a que, and washed his beard. It hung damply, curling around his jaw. The scent of lemon oil unfurled towards me on the evening air, jolting me from gazing at him. Lemon oil, like in my dreams.

This was not a dream. 

And I was suddenly overcome by the intense urge to scream until I vomited, and then curl up into a ball and cry myself dry and hollow.

Thanking my lovely beta, @rzrcrst​ !

Tagging: @songsformonkeys​ @keeper0fthestars​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @just-the-hiddles​ @agentpike​ @littlemissthistle​ @alldatalost​ @ly--canthrope​ @starlight-starwrites​ @stylelovechild​ @maryan028​ @seawhisperer​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @restingnurseface​ @emesispo​ @havenforafrazzledmind​ @tardisfangurl @holographic-carmen​ @pedropascalito​ @thewaythisis​ @mstgsmy​ @jaime1110​ @10-96dispatcher @talesfromtheguild​ @kindablackenedsuperhero 

#fighting blind #tovar fic #pero tovar x ofc #great wall fic

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 2

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go...

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2228

Part Two: Long into the Night

        The bass swelled and the drums cracked imitating well-known pop-rock songs that sent the patrons into a lather. Antha wasn’t the only one that finally felt it: the night was officially popping-off as it were and when she followed Tessa’s lead people stared.

        As if caught in a fever-dream, the mirrored image of them simply blew one young man’s mind. Way past his limit, he asked one of the twins “Are you real?” Zoey stepped in, pulling her friends around them acting as a barrier. With the added security in numbers, Antha started to relax, even have a little fun; also, knowing that Doug was on his way helped. The song led into another fan favorite and then another; they rolled with the rhythm, working up a sweat that no air conditioner could soothe.

        Something caught Antha’s eye. It was Franco, watching them, flipping the top of his lighter. A chill ran up her spine. She figured now was the best time to break the news to Tessa.

        “Hey, we’re going home after this,” she yelled into her twin’s ear, “one more round and then home.”

        “What did I tell you? We’re going to have fun!” Tessa proclaimed like it was the only stance she had ever believed in.

        “I just have this feeling Tess, I don’t want to go to that bonfire.”

        “You don’t have to! You’re not my third wheel, just get on home then—I’m going out to get lucky!” Tessa shimmied to her Daft Punk reference as the band began to play Get Lucky. She hummed when she followed Antha’s eyes across the floor toward the booth, where Franco lounged. “How can you resist that tall glass of water?”

        “We’re not going. You can have him over for brunch tomorrow,” Antha turned into the spitting image of her mother on the spot, as if compromising with a child. Every so often she checked the door, wishing Doug would just appear to help wrangle her girlfriends. She was truly outnumbered.

        Tessa laughed incredulously, “Franco doesn’t do brunch.”

        “And he’s not doing this either.” Antha waved her hand between the two of them as if a package deal. Tessa stopped dancing, her brow cocked and arms crossed. Zoey piped in that she would go, as did one of her cronies. Tessa shifted her weight and tossed her hair with her unequivocal “I do what I want” look, then she led the girls off the floor toward the bathroom. Antha trailed behind them, hot on their heels.

        She stood outside her sister’s stall trying to be as reasonable as the cocktail coursing through her veins would allow. Tessa and the others finally came out with the flush of toilets reverberating into one long sustained note, suggesting a migraine to Antha. “Oh, you’re still here? I thought you went home.” Tessa began, her attitude getting away from her as she preened in the mirror. Zoey tried to mediate but fell silent when the twin stated her case.

        “Look, if José asked, if Treyvon, if Brian asked—I would go! We could have fun—I just don’t like Franco. He’s got that weird, slow drawl—he disappears then reappears—where does he go? Where? To bonfires on Slaughter Beach? This sounds like the plot of every slasher horror flick ever made!” Antha explained, exasperated.

        “This is just like ‘the Treyvon incident’ years ago, when he touched your hair—it’s like an endless tug of war with you Ant. You never let anything go!” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, tired of her sister.

        “Tessa. He didn’t touch my hair—he snuck up behind me, fisted my dreads and whispered some nonsense about reigns or riding—or some shit! You know damn well he’s never ridden a horse so I can only imagine what he meant!” Antha grew annoyed recapping history when all it did was make Tessa laugh as if that was one of those old fond memories. Zoey blushed and covered her mouth, feeling a bit mortified for them both.

        “Maybe, I’ll explain it to you when you’re older.” Tessa shot back as she dabbed her neck with a damp towel. She began mumbling her usual rhetoric of Antha should ‘grow up and relax’, but a moment later she slouched against the counter.

        “If this is going to be a thing let’s just stay local—we can hit up the diner, you know like old times—summer is just starting, class is about to let out, we can head down to the beach another night.” Zoey rationalized.

        “Whoa…” Tessa sighed as if she wasn’t part of the conversation and held fast to the sink. She seemed woozy and held her head.

        “Who bought you drinks other than me?” Antha immediately took her sister up by the face and stared into her rapidly dilating pupils.

        “No, no, its not like that—he’s just got some good shit I haven’t had in a while.” She explained, completely detached.

        “Did you know about this?” Antha barked over her shoulder at Zoey and her friends; the girls hemmed and hawed like they were lined up for her firing squad. Of course, Franco had good shit, she thought. In the light of the bathroom Antha could tell she was the only mostly sober woman in the group. “We’re going home now.” She pulled Tessa and the rest from the bathroom, her head pounding from the music and cheap whiskey.

        When they got outside Franco was leaning on the back of his truck bed as if he were waiting to round up a herd of sheep. One of his friends, beer in hand, offered to help the girls up. Two climbed in, but Zoey hesitated, debating if she was more afraid of missing out or Antha. Antha put Tessa in her car and told her not to move; before she could hunt Franco down she found him lumbering toward her.

        “What is wrong with you? She’s as high as a kite!” She confronted him, attempting to keep her voice low.

        “Really?” He replied with mild surprise. “Well I got yer friends here—y’all still welcome to come down if you want.” He handed her the messenger bag and continued casually, his hands in his pockets as if he couldn’t fathom why she was upset. She threw her bag in the back and slammed the door—praying that Doug’s Buick would be squealing into the parking lot right about now.

        “You’re trouble, you know that? My sister doesn’t need a redneck like you hanging around—so do us a favor and disappear like you always do.” She threatened him as he dryly pulled a cigarette from his other ear and lit it. What else you got behind those ears?

        “Well, I see.” He bent to look in on Tessa who was fighting the urge to laugh or cry, she wasn’t sure in her current state. “I guess I’ll be hitting the road then.” He ironically saluted and turned to his truck. Antha watched as he threw up his tailgate and fired up the engine. His friend and the girls clucking like teenagers in the back.

        Antha sighed and swung herself into the driver’s seat of her sister’s car, realizing she didn’t have the keys in her pocket. When she turned to Tessa to get them, she found an empty seat. To her horror she looked up ahead to see the familiar white hot-pants climbing into the passenger side of Franco’s monster-sized truck. She jumped from the car, prepared to block the way and be crushed rather than watch him drive away with her.

        Before she could take one step closer her ears filled with the shrieking of brakes slamming behind her. She hadn’t had time to turn before flashes of color and angry feet whizzed by her body. Someone shouldered her out of the way, knocking her to the ground. The air filled with the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. The girls were suddenly screaming and jumping from the truck bed as Antha held herself, recoiled on the ground and terrified.

        “What the fuck?” Franco bellowed as José took a baseball bat to his side mirror and his crew slashed the back tires. “Who is this guy?” He yelled, completely blindsided, not truly wanting the answer. The invading men knocked out the taillights as José threw open the door and yanked Franco from his seat.

        “Tessa!” Antha held herself, her shoulder throbbing. The men circled as Franco attempted to defend his case.

        “Dude, I don’t know you—are you her boyfriend? Look, I don’t know what the—” He tried to set a standard for the situation before it escalated further. When José’s fist met Franco’s mouth Antha turned from the riot, too afraid to look. The sound of knuckles crashing against teeth was enough visual for her.

        “Tessa!” She called again as she pulled herself up to get her sister. Tessa was called by the men too as if insisting she bear witness to their fury.

        The passenger door groaned open and all that could be seen was a blur of white as Tessa hopped out and bolted from the parking lot and into the corn fields. With a surge of adrenaline Antha found her feet rushing as fast as they could after her sister. The shoddy bar and its watered-down drinks fell away from her like dead weight as the fear set in that her sister was running into the great unknown without her full faculties.

        The broken corn stalks and uneven ground was all she could follow—the only evidence to lead her to her fleeing sibling. The men brawling sounded distant like a dream from another time; everything, the whole night, was forgotten as Antha called for her lost other-half. She took a sharp left, listening, unable to trust her eyes as everything seemed to be moving. The corn stalks swatted back viciously in their disturbance. The further in she ran the more they grew, reaching to the sky, disorienting her and stinging her arms and face—but not like the terror in her chest, her lungs burned with her efforts. She didn’t know how long she had been running.

        Then there was silence.

        Antha stopped for a moment, unsure where to go, the stalks holding fast like bodyguards, reminding her she didn’t belong there. You’re lost, she swore someone whispered to her. She turned to find no one. “TESSA?” She called. Complete silence. All of her hackles raised as the realization set in that she might end up on the six o’clock news and not be around to watch it. The breeze could barely pass through the crop. “Tessa?” She cried as she desperately looked for those white cut-offs that encased her precious sister.

        She slowly moved forward as the thought occurred to her that they might not be alone. Momma, please I’ll never do anything wrong again! Please help me find her—I swear I didn’t mean to lose her—I swear to you and to God I’ll donate more to the church, I’ll never say the f-word again! I swear— Antha’s internal prayer was cut off as the ground suddenly left her, or rather she left it. After spewing the words she swore she’d never say again, she found herself in a rut. She looked above her head to see the corn stalks leering down at her, as she pulled herself from knotted roots and mud.

        The ground had cut away and she could barely see in the dark the massive crater-sized drop. She looked about with nothing but a freckling of stars and clouded moonlight to her aid. She searched for a way up, but could find none. “Tess—” She began but her voice died in her throat as something moved a few feet off from where she stood. She approached carefully—it could be Tessa, it could be a rabbit, or the Boogey Man—perhaps all of the above. Even the Boogey Man wouldn’t be out in this Delaware heat, she thought to herself, her internal monologue attempting to keep her panic at bay.

        She continued further and swore she saw light through the foliage and dank terrain. Antha followed the specks of light, frightened of what she might find, but too scared to stay in place. She prepared her fists but lost her gumption as a whimper sounded. She thought it was herself at first, but then realized the brush was shuddering and crying. Cautiously she pulled back a branch and found the iconic hot-pants, dirtied and shivering. “Tessa!” She excitedly whispered and threw her arms around her sister.

        “Ant, is that you? I’m so lost—where are we?” She sniffed, dazed and confused.

        “I’m here! I’m here!” She kept whispering and pushing her braids back, inspecting her face and limbs. Tessa’s expression was alien; whatever she had taken was in full affect now. She vomited in the shrubbery next to her. When she was done emptying her stomach, Tessa turned to her sister petrified and pointed. Before Antha could turn she heard a smooth voice cut through the dark.

        “You seem to be lost.” The metal click of a shot gun being cocked and readied trumped all of the twin’s senses—that was until the cool tip of the barrel met the base of Antha’s skull.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @myraiswack @wolfpawn​ @plastic-heart​

Bottom image Credit: https://images.app.goo.gl/Tq153Yhn2DsyBq296

#landlord vampire fic frenzy #twinning vs vamps #arch-venus25 writes

[winterisakillerwrites]

Becoming - Part Five

Title: Becoming

One Shot: 5/6

Character: Tom Hiddleston

Genre: Realistic(?) fluff; Angst

Rating: T

Summary: Learning about his son was only just the start of the story. As Tom Hiddleston struggles to adapt to this sudden change in his life, he comes to learn that becoming a father might be the biggest role he’d ever taken on. *Sequel/Continuation of Lovers’ Eyes*

Authors Notes/Warnings: This story came about because I knew there was still so much about Tom and his son that I wanted to explore. I fully intended this to be a quick flash forward into their lives, a snapshot if you will….They had other ideas and so here we are. This is technically all one story but has been broken down into parts to make the reading easier.

Thanks so much first and foremost to @ciaodarknessmyheart who has dealt with me throwing all of these ideas at her and has helped shape them into something coherent and wonderful.

Hope you all enjoy!

Tag List: @tinchentitri @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @noplacelikehome77 @blacksuitofdoom @nonsensicalobsessions @theheartofpenelope @ms-cellanies @nuggsmum @inkededucatednnerdy @redfoxwritesstuff  @just-the-hiddles @wolfsmom1 @theoneanna @hiddlescastle @sabine-leo @alexakeyloveloki  @echantedbytwh @finchbaggins  @kenzieam @ciaodarknessmyheart @ladyblablabla @trippedmetaldetector

PREVIOUS

It wasn’t an easy process and there had been push back on both sides. More often than not Tom found himself leaving meetings with his solicitor (a middle-aged no nonsense woman of his agent’s suggestion and of sterling reputation) feeling equal parts frustrated and terrified. She’d done her level best to reassure him that set-backs and disagreements were par for the course “After all,” she’d said pointedly after one such meeting, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

 Despite the constant feeling of unease and stagnation, they were at least starting to get somewhere. The time Tom spent with Jaime had an overlaying tension now which seemed to put both Tom and Keira on edge. They were never openly hostile towards each other around Jaime, but it was clear the boy felt the change. And that was something Tom knew neither he nor Keira wanted. It had taken tea and a fair bit of open, frank discussion on both of their parts for an uneasy truce to form between them. They both loved Jaime something fierce and both wanted the best for him. In order to do that they needed to work together, needed to be on similar pages. Jaime deserved no less.

 The begrudging truce formed that night was tested a week later when pictures of Tom and Jaime playing in the park began to make their way around gossip sites and the papers. While Tom’s status as a father was known to family, close friends, and his management, a public announcement had never been formally made. Knowing the intrusive nature of the press, Tom wanted to shield Jaime from it as much as he possibly could. He’d known taking the boy out in public would eventually bring the matter to a head, but had hoped being outside of London would delay it. And it had, for a time.

 When Luke called letting him know pictures had been released and several news agencies were reaching out for comment, Tom had been annoyed but not entirely surprised. He’d known from the beginning that sooner or later this would happen. The world he’d chosen to make his life in meant, whether unfairly or not, his life (both public and private) would be considered up for grabs. And because of who he was to Tom, Jaime could (and most likely would) very well be dragged into it. But knowing that did little to make any of it easier to bear. Nor was it any comfort.

 Shortly after that initial call, Tom discussed the matter with his team and then shortly thereafter with Keira, as she had a stake in this just has Tom himself had, and they’d all begrudging agreed that something needed to be said. To ignore the matter entirely would only serve to worsen the issue. Saying nothing would only lead to the press and the public coming up with their own versions of events and more cameras as they sought to prove or disprove their theories. In being open, or at least in saying something, part of that power, that control would be back in their hands. It wouldn’t stop the press or the cameras (and Tom was no longer naïve enough to think it would) but it would allow them to have a say in the story being told. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the one card they had left to play. Jaime was his son and he wasn’t ashamed of that fact, saying nothing, hiding it would only serve to make it seem as if that were the case. And that was something Tom would not stand for.

 The statement they had agreed on was short, simple, and to the point; it acknowledged that the boy Tom had been photographed with was indeed his son. That he and the boy’s mother had been in a serious relationship when the boy was conceived and that she had recently passed on. They asked for privacy in this matter and that while Tom himself was a public figure, his son was not and asked the press and the public to respect that.

 It was far from perfect and the resulting push back was loud. Why as this only coming out now? What was Tom trying to gain? Who was the child’s mother anyway? Why had nothing about her ever come out?

 Tom did his best to ignore the questions and the unkind words and had encouraged Keira to do the same. “It’s just noise,” he explained, hoping she could understand. Hoping she could see, in this instance, he knew what he was talking about. It was a hard lesson to learn and one Tom still found himself struggling with. But it was the only way to handle the madness. “It’s loud and painful but ultimately changes nothing. You can’t read everything they say about you or the ones you care for, doing so would drive you mad. You can’t change it, can’t stop it, so you just have to do your level best to ignore it. To treat it as if it’s nothing more than background noise.”

 Following his own advice was easier said than done and he’d caught himself looking at the articles and speculation from time to time, fighting the bile rising in his throat as he did so. It could be worse, he told himself. It could be so much worse. But knowing that didn’t make seeing it any easier.

 While he fought to keep things as normal as he could for Jaime’s sake, the boy clearly noticed the sudden amount of attention he’d garnered. They’d been in the park and had spent a fair amount of time in the play area, Tom laughing as Jaime horsed around on the monkey bars (ignoring the sense of dread he felt when Jaime nearly lost his grip) and ran up and down the slide. On one such trip up the climbing tower on a warm August afternoon, Jaime paused, confusion painting his features and pointed towards the far end of the play area. “Look daddy! That man’s taking pictures of us. Is he your friend?”

 Tom swallowed the curse he wanted to utter. He’d gotten used to being followed in London, known it was a part of his life he couldn’t entirely escape. But here…This, here, was a part of his life that was solely his. They had so much of him but this part, this was his. Forcing himself to calm and smile warmly at Jaime, he asked, “Why don’t we go back to Nan’s for a bit? I’m sure she’s got tea nearly ready.”

 Jaime didn’t seem wholly convinced but followed alongside Tom readily enough. Tom fought against the urge to turn and see if they were indeed being followed, as he strongly suspected they were. Jaime seemed mostly unconcerned, if not vaguely curious, about the photographers and they last thing Tom wanted was to scare the boy. He didn’t know if his son or Keira were bothered when he wasn’t around, Keira never mentioned and Tom was leery about bringing the subject up. They had been getting along over the last several weeks, despite Keira’s obvious frustration at this unwanted attention in her grandson’s life. Tom was loathe to do anything to rock the shaky peace they’d found.

 Tea was indeed waiting once they’d arrived at the house. If Keira noted Tom’s unease as he helped Jaime wash up, she refrained from commenting. Jaime ate with gusto, Tom and Keira watched sharing knowing looks. The boy very much took after Tom in his veracity when it came to food and talking it seemed. Once he’d inhaled his meal, Jaime babbled almost nonstop about the fun he’d had with Tom in the park and, to Tom’s discomfort, the funny man taking pictures. Keira nodded and smiled indulgently at the boy but her discomfort at the situation was clear.

 Once again, Tom cursed himself and the life he’d chosen to lead. Cursed how things that had no business in the public eye were thrown into it without warning simply because of their attachment to him. Luke had assured him that it was manageable and Tom knew enough of UK privacy laws to know that the papers couldn’t publish Jaime’s face without his consent…or at least the consent of his guardian and Keira would never allow it. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be followed. Pictures could tell stories and stories involving Tom seemed to sell for a great deal.

 When Keira had sent Jaime upstairs to wash up, Tom told her such. Tried his best to explain he would do whatever it took to keep Jaime safe. Keira listened with a reserved silence, her face unreadable. Something Eliza had clearly inherited from her; Tom could remember many a time he’d sat wondering just what was going on in Eliza’s mind when her face refused to tell him a thing. Once he’d finished, Keira told him she’d known in theory what allowing him into Jaime’s life would entail and that Eliza had known as well. Keeping the boy from his father hadn’t done any of them any good and while she hated the risks involved, she knew that Jaime deserved to have his father be a part of his life.

 “I don’t like this and I won’t pretend I do for either of our sakes, but I know it is what comes with the territory and you have proven yourself enough that I can trust you to put the needs of that little boy above your own. And that is why I won’t fight you on this, why I am agreeing to let you share custody. He is my grandson, but he is your son and this is, ultimately, what Eliza wanted.”

 And with that, the discussion was done. There was little point in rehashing any of it. What mattered now was Jaime and keeping him healthy, safe, and happy. While Tom’s life brought challenges, having him in Jaime’s life far outweighed any of those risks. And life went on as normally as possible. Tom spent as much time as he could with the boy as the dawning school year drew closer. It was to be Jaime’s first and he couldn’t have been more excited. He talked of nothing else; excited to make new friends and to learn as much as he could. It warmed Tom’s heart, seeing the boy’s clear love and desire to learn. He was such a mix of Tom and of his mother. And again Tom felt the familiar longing loss of what could have been had he or Eliza made different choices.

 The custody hearing concluded three weeks after the school year began, and for the most part the news was kept out of the papers (Luke was certainly worth his weight in gold and when Tom told him as much Luke joked and told him the bill would be sent right away then). Tom would share custody of his son with his grandmother while Keira would retain full physical custody for the time being with an understanding that in three years’ time a joint physical custody agreement would come into effect. Tom would have that time to rearrange his life as best he could to prepare. It would be easy enough to transition to more localized productions and it would give him the excuse to get back into his love of theatre. Visitation would be granted in an effort to ease Jaime into the idea of living at least part time with Tom.

 Both Tom and Keira agreed to wait until Jaime had settled as much as he could into his school routine before starting any overnight visitation with Tom in London. Day trips on the weekends and time spent overnight at Keira’s were about as adventurous as either felt Jaime needed right then. The boy had enough changes coming as it was to pile on anymore. Jaime took to these outings and times spent with his father like a duck to water. He loved spending time with Tom, loved talking to him about school and all he was learning while there. Tom, in turn, was grateful to see the boy thriving. Jaime had a way with people that was so much like his mother, and he rationalized, like himself. Nothing about their situation was perfect, but it was working and that was enough for now.

 Things became harder as the first anniversary of Eliza’s death drew near. Tom had been dreading the knowledge of it since he’d woken up that stormy morning in late September and realized with a sinking sense of pain and guilt just what the next week would mean. It would mean that it had been a year since he’d learned of her passing, a year since he’d lost the last vague hope of ever seeing her again, a year since Jaime had come so unexpectedly into his life. And in that year so much of his life had changed. Suddenly it wasn’t just him anymore, there was a little boy who needed him and he’d come to learn he needed him just as badly. So much good had come from something so painful.

 His mind turned to Jaime, wondering just how much the boy understood of what was coming. Jaime still spoke often of his mother and Tom knew he missed her more than he was able to say. He wondered what Keira had planned for herself and for Jaime and if he had any right to involve himself in those plans. Yes, he was a part of Jaime’s life now and yes Eliza had been someone he loved (and always would love) very deeply, but he hadn’t been a part of her life by his own selfish decisions. Keira had been incredibly close to her daughter and had her own loss to mourn. Intruding in that, especially if he wasn’t wanted was the last thing Tom had any desire to do.  

 It was therefore a surprise when his mobile rang on the eve of the anniversary of that painful day. He’d seen Keira’s number and for a brief moment considered sending the call to voicemail. He didn’t know just why she was reaching out and if it was to ask him to stay away, Tom wasn’t sure he would have the nerve, or the heart, to hear it. But what if it were Jaime calling…What if something had happened? Tom slid his finger across the glass screen and with trepidation answered.

 Keira’s voice was quiet, solemn, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt the memories of the person they had both lost were standing by her side. She did not ask him much, just to come by the house tomorrow. Jaime would need him, she’d said, and she believed he would need the boy as well. Tom had slept fitfully that night, memories and guilt swirling around him until he could not truly tell one from the other. He’d given up the ghost around four in the morning and had made his way down into the kitchen for coffee and something he hoped would distract him.                                                      

 His mobile sat on the counter where he must had dropped it after Keira’s call. He had no real memory of any of it and that was probably for the best. Jaime would need him to be strong today, even if the boy did not fully understand why. Tom sighed, waiting for the water in the kettle to boil. Out of habit he reached for his mobile, hitting the home button to wake up the screen. There was a message waiting for him in WhatsApp from Benedict. His newest son hadn’t quite mastered the art of sleeping through the night and it seemed Ben had drawn the short straw and was sitting up with him allowing his wife her much needed sleep.

 Tom smiled at the photograph of the little boy sat in his friend’s arms and fought to ignore the strange, pain of longing he felt. He would never have memories like that of Jaime and on most days he could live with that. He’d always known there were things out of his control, but sometimes that longing screamed in the back of his mind, so much time lost and for what?

 He hit the call button in the app without thinking and waited as it rang. “Tom? I didn’t think you’d be up yet.”

 Tom sighed, taking the kettle off the heat and pouring the water into the press. “Couldn’t really sleep. Saw your message and figured it would be safe to call.”

 Benedict chuckled, “Yes, sleep has been rather elusive on this end as well.”

 He placed the mobile on the counter, switching the device to speaker as he moved about finishing brewing his coffee. Through the tinny speakers Tom could hear the muffled grunts and squirming of the baby in his friend’s arms. “But it’s worth it, is it not?”

 “Oh yes, even when it feels like you’ll go mad, it’s worth it.” There was a slight hesitation before Benedict spoke again “Tom?”

 “Hm?”

 “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tom sighed, taking a sip from the mug in his hand. He grimaced at the heat, grateful though for the moment it gave him to decide how to respond. Briefly, he considered brushing off Benedict’s invitation to talk, the last thing he wanted to do was unload on his already sleep deprived friend. But he couldn’t do it, not when he knew Ben’s offer was genuine. He was one of the first people, outside of his family and his team, Tom had opened up to after learning of Jaime. And Benedict had been a sympathetic ear, offering both his ear and his counsel when required.

 He knew that Benedict was well aware of the significance of the day to come and knowing had offered Tom a quiet hand in a way he knew his stubborn friend would accept. What he’d ever done to be worthy of such a friend, Tom would never know, but he was eternally grateful.

 It didn’t take long for the thoughts and fears which had plagued him to come tumbling from Tom’s lips. Just saying the words aloud felt like a giant weight had been lifted from him. Even though there was nothing Ben could really do. Nothing he could really do about any of it other than simply do what needed to be done.

 The call ended as sunlight began to pour through the kitchen window. His coffee had long since gone cold and Benedict, to his credit, could no longer pass off his yawning as a one off. With a sleeping infant in his arms, Benedict wished him well. “If I don’t sleep now, he’ll be up again and so will his older brother and sleep will be something that happens to more fortunate souls.”

 Laughing, Tom bid his friend a pleasant sleep and surrounded once more by the silence of his kitchen, sighed. The clock on the stove read twenty-seven minutes past six. Keira hadn’t said how early he should come but if he showered and left within the half hour he could be at her’s around the time Jaime would be waking up. Mind made up, he placed the still full but now stone cold coffee by the microwave and jogged out of the kitchen and up the stairs to at a time.

 Twenty minutes later he was clean and back in the kitchen to reheat his coffee. No sense in letting the brew go to waste and he desperately needed the caffeine. Wincing as he pulled the now steaming mug from the microwave and dumped its contents into the travel mug his mother had bought him last Christmas (“you drink enough of the blasted stuff so you might as well have something decent to carrying it in when you’re dashing about”). Shoving his mobile in his pocket, Tom jogged to the door, grabbed his keys from the hall table and made his way out into the bright sunlight.

 Keira had clearly been expecting his early arrival Tom discovered as he found her waiting at the door as he pulled into her drive. She nodded at him and he did so in return. This was going to be a rough day for all of them.

 “Thank you for coming,” she whispered as she pulled the door shut behind him.

 “Thank you for having me.” He didn’t know what else to say. What else could he say? He shed his coat, hanging it on an empty arm of the hall tree. The sound of footfalls above signaled Jaime’s imminent arrival and Tom steadied himself to become whatever his son would need him to be.

NEXT

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Becoming #guilt #grief #original child character #Dad!Tom #winterisakiller writes

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Omg headcanon for when Tony gets injured in a fight and the readers looking after him 🥰

Injuries

Pairing: Tony x Reader

Drabbles & Headcanons

Tony Stark Taglist: @raspberrymama @ladyeliot @boop-le-snoot @make-a-memory-drink-it-up @loveisallyouneed1125 @ownsmyheart @anthonyjanthony666 @downeyreads @the-secret-thief @getlostsquidward @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

Everything Taglist: @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @little-baby-vixen @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @marvelgirl7 @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias

Tags are open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be in any of them :))

A literal grumpy, whiny child. 

Someone who dismisses being sick & brushes off injuries as ‘the least of his concerns’. Putting mending his damaged suits at the top of his priority list.

When you’ve managed to stop him from disappearing into his lab, cleaning up his wounds takes longer than most because it’s Tony.

“Gentle with your hands now, don’t want to damage the moneymaker.” says the billionaire gesturing to his face. 

Kissing the wounds to make him feel better. Kissing wounds only visible to Tony Stark to make him stay in one place without complaining.

Catching him trying to escape the ‘prison’ to sneak off in his lab.

“Don’t make me tie you up Tony because I will do it.” “Is that a promise?”

Bed rest after a serious battle resulting in a broken limb would probably be the worst form of torture.

Constant cuddles which you weren’t opposed to but then his hands would start to wander.

“You promised you’d wear that sexy nurse outfit I bought you and I don’t see it and hence I refuse to take the meds.” 

The outfit certainly made for other things & those things certainly being done by you. 

Sponge baths. Sure. The incorrigible Tony Stark.

Bribes of burgers, pizzas and donuts which would be devoured watching nonsense television in bed together including fighting over the last slice of pizza.

“I’m the patient here therefore I deserve the last piece.”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #tony stark headcanons #tony stark fluff #tony stark fanfiction #iron man fanfic #iron man fluff #iron man x reader

[just-the-hiddles]

Forever Hold Your Peace | Chapter 3: The Bachelor Party | Tom Hiddleston x Cumberbatch!Reader

/N: This came from an anon request: So, Ben finds out Tom had a fling with his little sister (reader) in the past, the one guy that she just cried herself on him for hours because of a break up, and they have a little fight about it. Time slip, they are friends again, BUT the reader is about to marry a guy that Ben doesn’t trust. Ben finds out that the groom is an cheater, and he sees no other option but to make Tom, the love the reader has never forgotten, stop the ceremony and declare himself to the reader.

Story Masterlist

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Cumberbatch!Reader (eventually) 

Summary: see above.  There are five chapters planned

This Chapter: Tom keeps running into you as wedding preparations kick into high gear. An incident at the bachelor party resolves Tom to join Benedict of this plan of wedding ruin.  

Warnings:  Language, Fighting, Tom is not an ass, strippers, poor taste

Word Count: 1734

Whole Enchilada Tag List: @winterisakiller @hopelessromanticspoonie @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @jessiejunebug @pinkzz123 @cherrygeek86 @littleredstarfish @rjohnson1280 @the-minus-four @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @catsladen @coppercorn-and-cauldron @gerli49 @lovesmesomehiddles @devilbat @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope @noplacelikehome77 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @snoopy3000 @voila-tout @kitkatd7 @wolfsmom1 @queenoftheunderdark  @xxloki81xx @thewaithfuckingannoyme @kcd15 @amirra88 @tomhiddles2 @malkaviangirl

Hiddles Tag List: @hiddlesbitch1 @drakesfiance @obtain-this-grain @unfortunatelyymuggle @theoneanna @too-cold-for-youhere @brucestephenbucky @vodka-and-some-sass @ladyblablabla @lokixme @mishaandthebrits @blackcherry26-blog @jade10077 @snoopy3000 @disconnectedswift @myraiswack @bluefrenchfries604 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @jeffreydohmerthehumannommer @rosierossette​ @thedivinepineapple​ @sadwaywardkid​ @lots-of-loki​ @dr-kayleigh-dh​​​

Story Tag List:  @imthebad-guyduhh​ @sleep-i-ness​ @sassybouquetrunaway-universe @phluffyphantom​ @stareyedplanet​ @loser-alert​ @just-another-human-2019​ @is-it-madness​  @thejemersoninferno​ @watchmidnight16​ @thwiso​ @let-me-have-my-own-name​ @vampgirl1997​ @astudyoftimeywimeystuff​ @timey-wimey-lovi​ @kinghiddlestonanddixon​​

Untaggables: @jumpxjess @bitchcraft-at-its-finest @hrtsgetbrkn @sterwild @jeremythewhiskeygoblin

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN, JUST LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO A LIST!!

-

The wedding preparations moved fast over the next two weeks. You had time no to stay mad at Ben. You needed the help.

“Why isn’t what’s his face here to pick out a cake?” Ben grumbled as he took a bite of white cake.

“He needed to take care of some things at work, but he is meeting me at the florist at 3 to pick out the flowers.”

“How convenient.”

“I thought you would be nice.” you snapped as crumbs fell from your mouth.

“This is me being nice. Pardon me for thinking the groom should take part in the details of his own wedding.” Ben rolled his eyes.

You pushed away from the table. “This visa thing has stressed him out. And I would expect my family to be supportive!” You stormed off to get some fresh air. As you pushed the door open, you ran into the gentleman entering the shop.

“So sorry.” you muttered.

“My apologies.”

“Tom?” you asked as you spied familiar blue eyes staring at you.

“It’s nice to see you. You look fantastic.“ He pulled you into a hug. You held him just a second too long.

“You too. Why are you… My brother called you, didn’t he?”

Tom laughed. “He asked me to meet him here to go out for a drink. But it looks like I am a bit early.”

“Nonsense. We were wrapping up.” You fidgeted with your hair, flustered.

You opened the door and the two of you stepped back in. Ben’s face lit up when he noticed Tom walking with you. Now there was a brother-in-law he could live with.

Tom hugged Benedict. “Dirty pool at giving me the wrong time, mate.” Tom whispered.

Ben smiled wide. “Just reminding her of the options.”

“I’m not an option.” Tom turned to you. “Where is your fiance? I was hoping to meet him before the bachelor party this weekend.”

You swallowed. “You’re going to that?!”

“At your brother’s request. Now where is the man who swept the most beautiful girl I ever dated off her feet?” Tom winked at Ben. You didn’t notice because you were too busy hiding your embarrassment.

“He had work stuff. Something to do with his visa.” You made excuses. “He’s stressed what with the wedding and all.”

Tom gave a soft smile and kissed your temple. “Of course. I can only imagine. Well, let me take your brother off your hands and let you get back to planning the big day.” Tom saw the worry on your face. “I would suggest a simple vanilla cake, if it were me.”

You nodded and gave both of them quick hugs, but your eyes filled with sadness as they left you alone in the bakery.

Once Tom and Ben walked out of sight, Tom punched Benedict hard in the shoulder. “Next time give me a little warning.”

“And where would be the fun in that?” Ben laughed. “It is so rare I catch you off guard. And if it must come at my sister’s expense…”

Tom scowled. “Speaking of your sister, where is the infamous Billy Bob?”

Ben groaned. “Working, but I have my suspicions he is othwersie occupied.”

Tom furrowed his brow. “Why?”

“He is never around. All the big events of this wedding he has missed. No one works that much. Not even you.”

Tom frowned. “Have you talked to her about it?”

“She doesn’t take me seriously. I’m just the annoying big brother. Now if you…” Ben looked at Tom with hopeful eyes.

“Oh no,” Tom backed away as they reached the pub. “Absolutely not. I will not ruin your sister’s wedding based on your paranoid suspicions.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“We are but I am not willing to die for that friendship. And your sister would kill me.”

“Coward.” They sat down in a booth.

“To want to continue living. Yes I am a coward.”

Tom’s look said to drop the subject, which Benedict obliged and they enjoyed the rest of the meal. They parted making plans to meet for the dreaded bachelor party that weekend.

“Please don’t leave alone during this horrid affair.” Ben pleaded.

“I promise I would come didn’t I?

“True but…”

“Then I will come.” Tom assured him. “And I will get to meet the infamous Billy Bob.”

“Indeed. And you will then understand why this wedding must never happen.” Tom raised an eyebrow and Ben held his hands up. “Apologies.”

“Goodbye Benedict. Good luck on your hairbrained scheme. Try not to make your sister cry.”

“That’s your job, Tom.”

Tom laughed it off as they parted, but Ben’s words stung his heart. He hoped to never make you cry ever again.

-

You answered the door of your brother’s home to find Tom standing in jeans and t-shirt. His blond hair tousled in curls.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He winked at you.

You bit your lip. “We do. Although…” you glanced over your shoulder. “… I suspect my brother may have something to do with that.”

Tom laughed. “I suspect you’re right.” He shuffled his feet out of nerves. “Listen… I know it’s been years but I’m sorry.”

Your shoulders slumped. “It’s fine. I’m over it.” You stepped outside to leave. Tom grabbed your hand.

“No, it’s not fine. I behaved like a right bastard and no one deserves to be treated less than.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Thank you, Tom.”

“And look at you now, successful and getting married in two days to the man of your dreams! I wish I could be there to see it.”

You nodded as his words hit your heart. Was William the man of your dreams or just the man you said yes to? You pushed the troubling thought aside.

“I’m sure Ben will share pictures.” You wanted to get out of there. Away from Tom’s charm. You stepped down the stairs.

Tom gave a killer smile to hide his heartache. “I won’t keep you any longer. You must have lots to do.”

You nodded. “It was good to see you, Tom.” You lied.

“You too.” He kissed your cheek. “Good luck tomorrow.”

You hustled away before you cried in front of him. Ben came to the door just as you disappeared from view.

“Still hitting it off with the ladies, I see.” Benedict teased.

“Weren’t you the one who forbade me to date a member of your family?” He raised an eyebrow as they got into the car.

“A position I am reconsidering. Thank you for accompanying me to this thing.”

“Why did you invite me, anyway?”

“You mean I can’t enjoy the company of one of my best friends for an evening?”

“No.”

“You’re right. I need a second opinion on William. And a second pair of eyes—”

“— to spy—”

“—to observe.” Benedict shot daggers at Tom.

“Another word for spying.”

“Are you going to help?”

“I intend on enjoying myself tonight.”

“Then we agree.”

“Not at all.”

This continued until they pulled up to the club. It was the sort of place Tom and Benedict would never frequent of their own accord. Too trendy, too loud, too bright.

It’s the “classic bachelor party” William explained to Benedict who later relayed that to Tom.

“In other words, too much booze and too much boobs.” Tom commented.

“It’s that rather crass. On second thought, that’s probably what he thought.” Benedict quipped. They grabbed drinks at the bar. “Oh shit, here he comes.”

Benedict hooked his chin towards a sweaty and smiling man.

“Holy fuck! It’s Loki!” William screamed over the loud club music.

Tom nearly spit out his drink. He hated him already. “In the flesh.” he choked out as William took his hand into his meaty paw and shook it hard, squeezing.

William punched Ben in the shoulder. “Bro, you never told me you knew Loki!”

Tom giggled behind William’s back at Ben’s discomfort. “You never asked.” Ben scoffed.

William spun to speak to Tom and Benedict pulled faces behind, mouthing “wanker” at Tom.

“Dude, do you know Arnold Schwarzenegger? He is my favorite.”

Benedict rolled his eyes.

“I’m afraid not, William.” Tom gave a tight smile. “But Ben you were at that BAFTA event last week…”

That was all it took to send William talking a mile a minute. Tom smiled at Benedict as he walked away to leave Benedict to fend for himself for a bit.

“Serves him right.” Tom muttered to himself as he went off to find a dark corner.

Ben didn’t resurface until 30 minutes later.

“You’ll pay for that.” Benedict cursed as he sidled up Tom at the bar.

“Fair is fair.” Tom smiled. “How is Billy Bob?”

“On his third cocktail and even more insufferable than usual with his mates by his side.” Benedict’s voice dripped with disdain.

“Shame. Here’s to getting out of here unaccosted.” Tom raised his glass.

A heavy hand hit Benedict’s shoulder.

“Onto our second stop for the night.”

Tom and Benedict furrowed their brows.

“I beg your pardon?” Benedict questioned.

“This was just the appetizer, bro. Onto the entrée. Zander will give you the address.” He walked away but not before shooting his fingers at the two men.

A tall thin man with slicked down black hair, who was Zander, gave them the address to a private residence. Benedict called the car.

“Do you have any idea where we are going?” Tom asked.

“I wasn’t consulted on the party plans. It’s probably a stripper popping out of a cake, juding by this crowd.”

Tom buried his head in his hand. “God, I hope not.”

The private residence was the rental for the groomsman. Everyone else headed to the parlor while Tom and Benedict wandered to the kitchen to see if there was anything edible in this house. They found only beer in the fridge.

“William! We are going to grab some food and be right back.” Tom yelled.

“Whatever, dude.” William yelled, his voice coming from the crowd of his friends.

Curious, they took a step into the parlor. The men hooted and hollered as rock music played from an unseen sound system.

“I’m afraid you were right.” Tom pointed towards the center of the room. All he saw was a buxom woman wearing little more than a thong and pasties.

Both of them moved out of the room after getting an eyeful of flesh. They sighed as they stepped out into the cool London air.

“That was awkward.” Tom commented.

The two laughed at the absurdity of their situation as they walked towards the nearest store.

-

They returned thirty minutes later to a very different scene. The rock music still blasted throughout the house. However, most of the guys were passed out on the furniture or playing video games.

“Where’s William?” Benedict asked a guy name Ashton.

The blond guy just shrugged his shoulders.

“What do you think?” Tom questioned. “Do you want to take the food home?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Tom handed the bags to Benedict. “I am going to the loo first.” He turned to Ashton. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Upstairs, second door on the left.”

“Thanks.”

Tom shuffled off.

“I mean right!” Ashton yelled after Tom.

Tom headed upstairs and opened the second door on the left, which led to a bedroom. A bedroom occupied by the stripper and one gentleman from the party, in a state of undress.

“Terribly sorry to interrupt,” Tom apologized. “I was looking for the restroom?”

“Second door on the right, dude.” a familiar voice answered.

“William?” Tom squinted at the man whose neck was being sucked on by a nearly naked woman.

“Loki?”

Tom’s vision flashed white as his hand balled into a fist and it connected with William’s face.

“The name’s Thomas, Billy Bob.” Tom shook his hand out as William laid sprawled unconscious on the bed. He pointed at the stripper.

“He said he was one of the groomsman!” she screamed.

“Your name?”

“Diamond.”

“Diamond.” Tom resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Party’s over. Get dressed and get out.”

She nodded, too scared to ask questions.

Tom stomped down the stairs and found Ben leaning against a wall.

“I’m in.” Tom grabbed his arm. “I’ll explain in the car. Just tell me where this wedding is.”

Benedict couldn’t help but smile.

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