#honestly..... how can she be bright eyed and bushy tailed after all this

[ravenromanova]

You’re such a bitch

Pairings: Wanda x Female Avenger (Reader is an ex black widow)

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, Mean Wanda (For a little) SMUT DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18+!!!!! Mommy kink, Fingering, ENCHANTED STRAPPPPP, Oral, Thigh riding. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE

Summary: When you get locked in a room with Wanda the two of you quickly figure out a way to solve your problems.

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!!

~

You could feel her eyes burning into the back of your skull as you landed blow after blow on the punching bag. She wasnt even supposed to be back from her mission yet but you weren’t gonna let her run you out of the training room You tried to ignore the daggers being thrown your way and just keep focusing but it was hard.

“Can i help you with something or are you just gonna keep staring at me?” You question the witch as you turn around to face her. She raises her eyebrow and scoffs at you.

“Just was seeing how the weakest link was doing” Venom dripped off Wandas voice as she spoke.

“Forget i asked” You pushed passed her grabbing you water and your bag before walking out of the training room not wanting to fight with her yet again.

Ever since you got recruited for the Avengers Wanda has been nothing but rude and bitchy. No one knows why in all honestly, everyone thought she would like you with how bubbly you were. But nope she treated you like a child, belittled your abilities and trauma, made you feel worthless and was just overall rude. At first you thought it was because you were new but its been three years of this. So you finally started snapping back at her and treating her like how she treated you.

And ever since you had started snapping back she had just gotten meaner. The team had tried to get you two to talk it through but that didn’t work. So they decided that the two of you weren’t allowed of missions alone or allowed to be along in general. Granted Wanda still got you alone just to belittle you like now.

“Why do you always run away? Scared of a little confrontation?” She sneered following behind you making you groan.

“Because why would i wanna sit here and listen to you belittle me Wanda? I dont even know what the hell i did to you” You replied feeling yourself getting worked up.

“Maybe if you weren’t a whiny child id actually like you” Wanda crossed her arms over her chest and tilting her head.

“You’re such a bitch you know that right? Ive been nothing but nice to you since i joined and you’ve been nothing but an ice cold bitch. I’m fucking done with it. I’m done with the snide remarks. I’m just done” Your words catch her off guard a little as she sees your resolve start to crumble. “You aren’t the only one who has to deal with shit and you just make my life ten times harder than it needs to be. Leave me the fuck alone” And with that you walk off to your room leaving Wanda in the hallway stunned.

As you walked away Wanda went to her room and just sat there feeling like shit. It’s not that Wanda didn’t like you… Hell she loved you but she was scared. She has never experienced love before and from the moment she met you she fell for you. You were bright eyed and bushy tailed when you first joined. You had been so nice and loving to her at first it threw her for a loop. So she thought that if she was bitchy towards you that you wouldn’t want to be near you. And it worked you started fighting back and Wanda was proud.. That was until she started to miss your sunny disposition. But she knew it was for the best atleast this way you weren’t tainted by her darkness.

When you had finally made it back to your room you had fallen onto your bed and broke down. You didn’t understand what you did to make her hate you so much and it killed you. Since the moment you joined the team the witch had your attention. She was beautiful and alluring and all you wanted was to be close to her until she started he shit. And once the bullying got out of hand you snapped back and it felt good and then you promised yourself you were gonna stick up for yourself.

You thought the shit you had to endure in The Red Room was bad? Nothing compared to the coldness you felt from Wanda. In all honesty you were still madly in love with her but gave up any hope of her being interested when the shit started. So you just decided to keep your distance from her even thought she never let it happen.

“Miss L/n Mr.Stark requests your presence in the conference room immediately” F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you reluctantly walk to the conference room.

When you had gotten to the room you saw Stark and Wanda. Stark looked like a disappointed dad and Wanda looked like a teenager getting yelled at. They both turned to look at you as you entered shooting Tony a confused look.

“Ah y/n sit please” He said motioning for you to sit and you chose a chair farthest from Wanda.

“Uh why am i here?” You ask starting to feel a little anxious. The witch groaned and rolled her eyes at your question making Tony scowl at her.

“Well F.R.I.D.A.Y had informed me of the encounter between the two of you this morning and i think it’s time the two of you talk it out.” Tony said with a look of genuine concern as he looked at you.

“I dont think thats necessary Stark. Just keep her away from me and I’ll be fine” You try to reason with him but he shakes his head despite your protests.

“I’m sorry but that just wont work. You two need to talk it out.” He said looking in between you and Wanda. Wanda huffed in annoyance and rolled her eyes while you tried to argue with Stark.

“You two are leaving this room until you work it out.” And with that he ran out of the room locking you two in it.

“STARK!” Wanda yelled banging on the door and trying to open it with her powers.

“Sorry witchy youre wiggly woos wont work” He said through the intercom. “Talk it out or be stuck in here forever” Then suddenly you heard him activate barn door protocol and the entire room went on lockdown.

“Oh my fucking god” You groan resting your head in your hands. Wanda kept trying to open the door with blasts but it didn’t work. She eventually gave up and slumped back into her chair not even bothering to look at you.

The room was filled with an uncomfortable silence as the two of you just sat there staring at the ceiling. Sure you could’ve used this time to actually solve your problems with the witch but if she wasnt going to talk neither were you.

“This is ridiculous” She mumbled under her breath running her hand through her hair.

“You’re the reason we are even here” You remind her making her scoff in annoyance. “Why do you even hate me anyways? What did i even do to you?” The question takes Wanda by surprise and she stands up and walks closer to you. She leaned against the table in front of you making your eyes meet hers.

“I-I dont hate you y/n” She said softly pulling a chair up and sitting next to you.

“Sure seems like you do” You remark with your eyebrow raised. Wanda sighed and shook her head at your statement.

“That means i did what i wanted” Her words made you title your head in confusion and you furrow your brows. “I pushed you away because i didn’t want you to get caught up in my darkness, everyone i have ever loved has died its like im cursed. And when you first joined you were so pure and sweet and-and it scared the shit out of me. I’m sorry i hurt you i meant to push you away… not hurt you” Wandas confession was not what you were expecting. You looked into her eyes to see if she was telling the truth and you saw nothing but genuine truth behind her words.

“You aren’t cursed Wanda” You said softly grabbing her hands and rubbing your thumb over her knuckles. “Bad things happen all the time but it doesn’t mean you should turn yourself away from the good things.” Wandas entire demeanor softened at your words. For the first time in a long time she thought that maybe she deserved something good.

“I’m so fucking sorry for the way i’ve treated you” She apologized cupping your cheek with her soft hand. It felt like time was moving slowly as you and her stared into each others eyes.

“Show me how sorry you are” You whispered leaning in close to her your lips hovering over hers. Wanda wasted no time in crashing her lips into yours. You moaned at the taste of her as you kissed her with more passion than you thought possible. She grabbed your hips and moved you to sit on her lip not breaking the kiss once.

Instinctively you started to grind your hips down onto her thigh to relive the throbbing in your core. Her hands found their way under your shirt and grasped at your clothed chest. She was quick to remove your clothes with her powers leaving you naked on her lap.

“So pretty malyshka” She whispered kissing below your ear. You kept grinding down on her thigh leaving a wet spot on her clothed thigh. Her ringed fingers found their way down your chest slowly making their way to your clit.

“Oh fuck” You moaned feeling her cold fingers rub circles on your clit. You started grinding yourself against her faster as she plays with you eliciting moans from you.

“Cum for malysh” She eggs you on by adding one finger into you making you moan in satisfaction.

“Oh fuck mommy-“ The title slips from your lips before you could stop it and you halt your movements and stare at her in embarrassment. She looked at you with wide eyes smiling at the name you called her.

“Say it again baby” Wanda pleaded looking up at you with her green eyes and devilish smile.

“Please mommy fuck me” You beg picking up grinding on her thigh making wet noises come from your pussy.

“Fuck-“ She muttered picking you up by your thighs then laid you down on the table and spreading your legs.

Her tongue darted out to lick a stripe on your pussy. She moaned at the taste of you invading her senses. She started eating you out like she’s never eaten before.

“Oh right there mommy!” Your hands flew to her hair when she adds two fingers in you hitting your g-spot. Wanda groans when she feels your walls clench around her fingers sending vibrations through you.

“G-Gonna cu-cum mommy fuck!” Your screams filled the office and you were never more thankful for soundproofing than you are now.

“Cum for me baby let go” She mumbles thrusting now three fingers in you. Her pace never relented as she fucked into you hitting all the right spots.

“FUCK!” You scream and the knot in your stomach snaps and you come undone on her tongue.

“So good malysh” Wanda praised bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. The mix of your arousal and her cherry chapstick makes you melt further into the kiss. Wanda flicks her wrist and her clothes come off and a strap appears on her waist.

Your eyed widened at the strap that adorned her waist. It was red and by father the biggest you have ever had. “Need to be in you baby” She groaned rubbing the faux cock against your puffy folds. Little did you know that the strap had been enchanted so she could feel everything.

“Fuck me mommy” You plead grasping at her to bring her closer to you. She smiled softly at you as her hands grasped the strap and slowly entered you. Once she bottomed out her hips stuttered at the feeling of your walls clenching down on her.

“So fucking tight” She moaned setting a slow pace careful not to hurt you. You were losing your mind feeling Wanda kiss your g-spot with the tip of the strap. The room was filled with both of your moans accompanied by the sound by skin slapping against each other.

“R-Right there mommy oh my god-“ Your moans are cut off as you cum for the second time.

“Such a good girl” She praised fucking into you as she chases her own orgasm. “Fuck!” Wanda grunted as she came . Her hips stilled and she pulled out of you slowly despite your whines.

“T-That was fucking amazing” You said sitting up on the table trying to catch your breath. Wanda chuckled and flicked her wrist dressing you both again.

“Agreed malysh” She whispered giving you a passionate kiss. The two of you got so lost in each other you didn’t even hear the locks and door opening.

“Well done you two” Tonys voice came from the intercom. You and Wanda both looked at each other and giggled.

The two of you walked out of the room and went back to Wandas room hand in hand with smiles on your faces. When you get to her room you lay on her bed with open arms. She laughs and crawls over to you and lays you down on her chest.

“I love you” She whispers kissing your head.

“I love you too” You said with a bright smile and gave her a kiss on the cheek. The rest of the night was spent with Wanda showing you just how much she loved you and you relishing in her love. Who knew the bitchy witch could be such a softie.

~The end~

I do not give permission for my work to be copied or translated on other cites

tag list @cakechan123

#ravenromanova #wanda maximoff #marvel x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x female reader smut #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #smut #kinktober 2023

[moodywyrm]

no breakdowns here

college! vi x reader

so I watched arcane,,,, I need vi so so bad. MDNI on principle or I'll cry. I will probably write more of her if I don’t have a colossal breakdown first but ya know. college. 

songs! cariño by the Marias it’s one of my favorite songs ever and it’s just so so soft I'll cry over it 

wc: 1.3k

Thinking about sitting next to Vi in the history class she’s taking for her GE, whereas ur the sweet lil history major that she sat next to on the first day

She thought u were really cute so obviously, she chose the seat right next to u out of the entire class

U two say ur hellos and goodbyes before class, share notes throughout lecture, lean into each other to whisper lil comments, repress the unbelievable sapphic tension between u two. ya know, normal seatmate things.

Class with her is always a fun time, filled with giggles n explanations n overall she is just so glad she sat with u, especially when u get all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed over getting to talk about history with her

so needless to say, she’s more than a lil bit shocked when u come in one day and don’t say good morning or smile or really look at her at all

u just sit down, pull ur supplies out n keep ur head down n she’s just like??? What happened to hello??? How are you???

no but actually she is very concerned bc u r rarely this quiet, at least to her

So she shuts her laptop and turns to u, leaning her head down to try and look at ur face n her heart does a weird little upset flip bc u are holding back tears and u have this lil frown on ur face n she just goes “oh sweetheart”

n u almost break then and there, sniffling extra hard and looking up at the ceiling to make sure u don’t start sobbing before ur 9am topics in world history class bc that would blow

u look at her and give her the saddest lil smile she’s ever seen and her heart breaks bc while u may be quiet, u were always confident n rn u look like ur gonna crawl into a hole and never come out

n then u whisper a lil ‘hey, i’m okay’ to her and she looks at u like oh honey oh no n she asks u ‘what’s wrong sweets?’

n u just Go

“I didn’t get to eat breakfast this morning bc I forgot to set my alarm and I look like shit and I have so so much work to do, like four assignments and that would be fine if i understood the readings but I don’t and i feel like an idiot and i’m just so tired and sad all the time” and Breath  

u pause and look at her, and Vi just hauls her arm around ur shoulders, tucking u into her n u both Pause bc hold up?? Physical affection???? More pls pls pls

It’s kinda an awkward position but nonetheless u reach up to hold the hand on ur shoulder, n lean into her (trying very hard not to focus on the squish of her chest pressing into u thru her sports bra bc she is always in the fucking sports bra)

N then she starts whispering to u n talking u down from a breakdown n honestly u might start crying purely bc she is being so gentle with u

‘Alright sweets, ur gonna sit here and not think about any of that rn. Take whatever notes u think u can, n then u can fill em in with mine. Do you have anything to do after this? No? Ok, we’re gonna go get breakfast, my treat don’t u dare fight it, n decompress n then, if u want to, we’ll find a nice place to sit and do our work, alright? Sound good?’

n ur near tears n ur so warm n u can’t speak bc she’s sooooo perfect that u just give her a lil nod n a sniffle

N she can’t help herself, she presses a lil smooch to the top of ur head and tightens her arm around u as more students start to filter in

“You’re not an idiot, you’re just overwhelmed. Princess, you’re the smartest person I know, but it’s hard to be so smart and so intense all the time. You’re allowed to take a break and ask for help.”

Ur voice is so small and sweet when u look up at her n go ‘thank u :(’

n she smiles at u and lets u both return to ur spots, but right before class starts she leans down to ur ear and whispers ‘n by the way, u don’t look like shit princess, u should wear those leggings more often’ with a lil wink n oh m y god 

yeah u didn’t get like any notes down, u had to use hers after class

Speaking of after class!! She totally helps u pack up ur things, slotting pens into ur lil pen case and holding ur bag up so u don’t have to lean down to put everything in

Even helps u put on ur backpack like the perfect lil gf material she is

So u two make ur way to the main coffee shop on campus, not holding hands but walking incredibly close :(

n to distract u from ur worries, she’s telling u abt how her friend ekko walked in on her just as she fell of her bed n then her downstairs neighbor come up to yell at her abt the thunk

n ur laughing so hard bc girl wtf but it’s so worth it to see u smile, especially in the morning when the sun is hitting u just right so u look downright angelic in ur pretty lil flared legging n tied up t-shirt that fit so so well she just wants to take a bite out of u chomp chomp

n she’s definitely blushing bc this is the first time u two have hung out outside of class n it’s bc she wants to make u feel good and then she realizes she always wants to make u feel good and oh no vi u have a crush! A huge debilitating crush! a gf level crush!

So internally she’s losing it just a lil bit by the time u get to the coffee shop, which is packed and makes u anxious all over again

So obviously, when u get in line and she notices just how fidgety ur getting, she wraps one big strong arm around ur waist and tugs u into her side, whispering to u that it’s okay, you’ll just get ur food and then find somewhere nice n quiet to sit

n ur mind is spinning at this point, but in the good way bc her arm feels so secure n warm around u, u might just have to kiss this girl silly

Ofc she orders for the both of u when u get to the cash register, detaching for a split second to grab her wallet out of her pocket and then immediately clinging back onto u

By the time u two find a nice lil spot in a quiet, tucked away corner of the school to eat ur food, u feel like ur gonna combust with all the yearning ur experiencing rn

Don’t worry so is Vi

Bc she’s sitting there, leaning against a tree, watching u sit in a patch of sun breaking through the leaves, munching on a breakfast croissant and sipping an iced matcha latte

ur practically haloed by the sun dancing across ur skin, looking all warm and content 

she swears ur the prettiest girl she’s ever seen, n she’s seen a lot of pretty girls

That’s the moment, that peaceful silence where she gets to watch you decompress and build yourself back up to your usual self, where she swears to every god in the universe that she’ll make u hers

If she can ever manage to stop freaking out when u lean into her

She;s so cute i need her so bad

#arcane fic #vi x reader #arcane vi x reader #arcane fluff #arcane vi fluff #arcane vi #arcane #vi x reader fluff #vi fluff #arcane x reader fic

[aurumacadicus]

Pride Pocket14--Her Discipline Is So Profound

Kink belongs at Pride and as an ace person I’m personally sick of people using my existence to try and push it out, so this year I’m dedicating my Pride Pockets to Kink.

Anyway my favorite headcanon for Natasha is that she's actually a great matchmaker but couldn't tell if people were honestly interested in her if her life depended on it. Pepper and Tony have been flirting with her for months and assume her not picking up on it is her just trying to let them down gently. They figure that even if she's not interested in them romantically she might at least do them the favor of Domming Tony because you don't have to be romantically involved to enter into a Dom/Sub relationship. (Natasha has been thirsting after them since she went undercover at Stark Industries so she was saying yes before Pepper could finish asking.) You can also find this fic on AO3 (here). Look out for under the cut!

--

Pepper avoided going on long trips as a rule. She hated being away from home, never being able to stay in one place long enough to get a decent amount of rest, and she hated being away from Tony especially. She said half of it was because she preferred Tony there to deal with the more misogynist business partners and the other half was because Tony gave the best foot rubs, better than any spa she’d been to. Tony could go with her for a few days, hit a couple meetings, but he tried not to be gone from New York for very long in case of villains attacking. He expressed regret at not being able to help Pepper more on the overseas trips, despite not being CEO anymore.

Natasha was now aware that those were all fucking lies. Pepper was used to not getting much rest, and she preferred getting all the travel done in one go so she didn’t have to worry about flying in and out several times. She was perfectly capable of making men wish she’d just cut off their balls instead of crushing them in business. Tony still hated meetings and avoided them at all cost, even if he had mentioned that he enjoyed watching the shareholders cower in terror when Pepper went on a tirade. The only thing that was true was that Tony was excellent at foot rubs, which Natasha knew from experience. No, the real reason that Pepper hated long trips was because apparently, she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to fuck Tony stupid.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. Natasha mentally went over the schedule Pepper had handed to her with the order to burn after reading; sometimes it was once every few weeks, and sometimes it was three times a week. It depended how busy their schedule was and how close Stark Industries was to releasing a new product. ‘How on edge Tony is,’ Pepper had notated. She’d block out the last three hours of the workday to work from home, and then block out several more as confidential work meetings. The next day, she and Tony would return to work in person, bright eyed and bushy-tailed, for lack of a better description, and get more work done than they had in the previous days leading up to it.

Those three plus hours were spent keeping Tony so fucked out and tired that his brain finally got a chance to shut off, and Pepper was worried enough about Tony going without it for a month that she’d approached Natasha about filling in for her while she was gone. She wanted someone there to see to him personally. ‘You’ve got the air of a Dom to you,’ she’d said, and then had invited Natasha up to their home office during one of their blocked-out days to show her the ropes when she had hastily agreed. She’d been attracted to them ever since she’d infiltrated the company while Tony was dying. She wasn’t going to give up the chance they were offering her.

Natasha took a deep breath as she approached the door to their home office. She’d been invited, but she still felt like she was intruding, even if JARVIS had pleasantly greeted her when she’d stepped onto the elevator. She’d notified Pepper that she was going to come that day, and Pepper had replied that that was fine, but don’t tell Tony. ‘Tony knows you agreed and that you’re coming; he just doesn’t know when,’ Pepper had said. She’d assured Natasha that Tony was okay with not knowing each and every detail, but it still made Natasha feel a little wrong-footed, not having spoken to him about it.

She knocked. Heard Pepper answer with a clipped, no-nonsense ‘enter.’ Took another breath, let it out slowly, then turned the knob and stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind her.

Natasha quickly catalogued the room. It looked like a regular office, on the fancier side maybe. A couple of leather sitting chairs beside a coffee table; a wet bar with an espresso machine and a bowl of fruit on the counter, a little fridge built into the cabinets; a wall of books and filing cabinets, some of which she recognized as copies from their offices in the business part of the tower; and in the center of the room, a large oak desk, where Pepper was typing away at a keyboard, blue screen floating in front of her. Natasha took a moment to stare. Pepper looked as perfectly put together as she always did, but for her suit jacket hung on the coat rack near another door which Natasha assumed led to a bathroom. Her blouse was unbuttoned to just under her bra, the front placket spread to show off the way the black lace cupped her breasts. Natasha’s eyes were drawn back to Pepper’s jacket on the coat rack, and for a moment, she couldn’t understand why.

Then she realized that Tony’s suit was hung up next to it in its entirety—slacks carefully folded over the bottom of the hanger, jacket tucked over the buttoned shirt. She glanced down, swallowing thickly when she realized Tony’s shoes were placed neatly below the hanger, his entire outfit on display. His entire outfit not on his body.

“You can come closer, Natasha. I’m not going to bite,” Pepper said, amused.

Natasha looked back at her and wondered if she was blushing. She couldn’t tell. Usually, she was more collected than this. But then, that was before she was in a room with someone that she actually wanted to have sex with. Two people? Tony must be here somewhere. Naked.

It was only when she stepped closer that she heard a soft moan and a wet, slurping noise. Her eyes darted to the desk in front of Pepper. It was a large desk. Certainly large enough for a man to kneel under. For Tony to kneel under.

Pepper smirked at her, finally taking her hands off the keyboard. “So you’re taking us up on the offer then?”

Natasha managed a nod in lieu of speaking, imagination already conjuring up the picture Tony must be making, naked under the desk, moaning in obvious enjoyment as he—loudly—ate Pepper out. She took a moment to be offended that Pepper looked as put-together and perfect as always, then decided she was impressed instead. She had still been typing away at her computer when Natasha had walked in. Stark men might be made of iron, but Pepper was made of sharp steel.

Pepper dropped one hand into her lap, muscles in her arm straining as she tugged, and the quiet of the room was cut through by a needy whine. “We have a guest,” Pepper told Tony sternly, an edge to her voice that she usually didn’t have that sent a trail of heat down Natasha’s spine. Pepper seemed to notice, because she tipped her head back, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

Natasha took it as the invitation it was, trying to be as casual as possible as she circled the desk to look down into the foot-well. She couldn’t help the way her breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight of Tony’s face, pupils blown wide, lips red and swollen. His face was wet from his cheekbones down to his chin, a thin strand of saliva strung between his bottom lip and Pepper’s sticky thigh. Pepper had her hand curled tight in Tony’s hair, and it looked like the only thing holding him up, balanced on his knees with his arms tied behind his back with what looked like the tie he'd been wearing earlier.

“You promised to make a good impression if Natasha decided to consider our offer,” Pepper said, voice firm.

Tony swallowed back half of another needy whine, licking his lips. He tipped his head to press one side of his face into Pepper’s thigh, the tips of his ears beginning to go red.

“We can salvage this. Women are rarely offended to see men are happy to give head,” Pepper told him, just a little kindness creeping into her tone, before she pushed her chair back to give him room to lean forward, splayed out on his knees and shoulders, apparently too horny to even hold his own weight up.

Natasha watched as Pepper reached for a remote control she hadn’t noticed sitting at the side of the desk beside her cup of coffee. Pepper took a moment to look Tony over, considering, then thumbed over one of the buttons.

Tony let out a noise as if he’d been punched in the gut, pressing his forehead to the floor with a guttural noise that just barely covered the new sound of buzzing. His hips twitched, then began rolling helplessly, which allowed Natasha to catch sight of the flange of a plug nestled snugly outside his hole. A vibrator. Turned up to highest setting from zero, Natasha figured, impressed.

Pepper stood, taking a moment to pull her skirt back down. “Let me give you the tour so you can make an informed decision,” she said, stepping over Tony as if he wasn’t already twitching and whimpering at her feet.

Natasha would have been content to say yes so long as she got to watch Tony come, but she figured if she was going to be taking care of him for her, it was best to let Pepper show her the ropes. Tony had specific needs, after all—it was why Pepper had felt the need to reach out to her.

Pepper led her back to the door she’d come through, knocking her fingers against the jamb as she turned back to her. “This door is biometrically sealed. We’ve instituted a temporary allowance for you, otherwise it’ll only open for me or Tony. JARVIS scanned you on the way from the elevator, and then the doorknob read your prints and tested your sweat for your DNA. I don’t have to tell you how disastrous this could be for Tony and Stark Industries as a whole if this got out,” she added, steel in her voice again.

“Of course,” Natasha agreed. She’d never tell anyone, but it was nice to be threatened, somehow. It showed her how much Pepper cared. “It’s weird that it also reads my DNA, but I’ll come to terms with that on my own time.”

“Thanks,” Pepper said, smiling a little. Then her expression went stern again. “The scene starts as soon as you enter, so any discussion you want to have about it, you have to have outside. In person, preferably, but over encrypted messages in a pinch.” She knocked her knuckles against the door again. “As soon as you pass through this door, the outside world ceases to exist. When he’s in here, Tony isn’t Iron Man, your teammate, or your friend. He’s a business mogul who needs to be put in his place. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

“If I had problems with Iron Man in the field, or I was mad at Tony for eating the last of my cereal, that’s a problem to take up with him literally anywhere but on your floor,” Natasha surmised.

“Right,” Pepper agreed seriously. “And if I hear you didn’t follow this one rule especially, I’ll kill you. This is his only other safe space besides the workshop. I won’t have it become unsafe even by accident.”

Natasha opened her mouth, then closed it, considering. She didn’t want to come across as too blasé about it. Finally, she said, “I won’t disappoint you.”

Pepper took a moment to just look at her, eyes searching. Then she said, “I never doubted it, but I wanted to be upfront. Tony needs to feel safe.”

“Of course,” Natasha agreed.

Pepper took a moment to offer her another smile, then turned, mask back in place as she walked over to the window. “This is just the projection of a window. JARVIS can control it to make it seem as if time is passing faster or slower than it actually is, but if you want to do that, you have to let Tony know that upfront. He hates to be disoriented, so if he leaves the scene thinking more or less time has passed and it hasn’t, he gets distressed, which I don’t have to explain has consequences when he’s already recovering from the scene.” She twisted the blinds, and the evening sun quickly faded to dusk before flickering back to light. “At the end of the scene, the projector and screen go back into the ceiling, and expose the actual window. The screen is showing afternoon sun because we had a late start today and Tony wanted to see more sunlight.”

“Okay,” Natasha said, trying not to sound too awed. She doubted she’d get a chance to make use of it, but it was good to know.

Pepper motioned at the wet bar. “There are water bottles in the fridge, for immediately after the scene ends. I like Tony to drink at least one bottle before he leaves the room. There’s also snacks, but he’s usually too wrung out to eat until about an hour after. You can help yourself, of course.” She began back toward the desk, motioning at the coat rack and door. “Bathroom’s through there, but it’s not as luxurious as our en suite, so I suggest you get Tony to that one. More shower heads, and JARVIS knows Tony’s heat preferences.” She pointed at the coat rack. “Tony takes off his clothes as soon as he enters the room. Make sure he hangs them nicely.”

Natasha let her eyes trail over the suit again. “Seems like you’ve got a well-oiled machine,” she offered cautiously, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, I’ve had years to train him,” Pepper said with a shrug, turning her attention back to the desk. She walked over and pulled the chair out further, away from the immediate perimeter of the desk, then came to a stop in front of Tony, where he was still desperately trying to chase his orgasm on the floor, hips shaking as he rutted the air in front of him, cheek pressed into the wood as he panted for air. She motioned at Tony fondly. “I mean, he wasn’t this obedient when we first started.”

“I bet,” Natasha had to agree. Tony was combative on the best of days. She could imagine that Pepper had her hands full getting him to submit to her completely.

Pepper grabbed the remote control again and hit the power button, ignoring the way Tony howled in dismay, hips stuttering to a stop without the vibrations to chase. “I can’t show Natasha all of your toys if you’re in the way,” she said, unimpressed, when Tony looked up at her with wet, pleading eyes. She hit a button on the side of the desk, which made the blue screen disappear with a faint ‘fzzt’ and the keyboard to flip to inside the desk through what looked like a trap door. Then she reached down to grab under his arms and lift him up onto shaky legs. “Come on.”

“Please,” Tony managed, then grunted as she turned him and shoved him down, so he was splayed across the top of the desk.

Pepper gave him a swat on the right cheek to quiet him, and Natasha couldn’t help but marvel at the way his ass jiggled from the contact. She blushed a little when she noticed Pepper watching her, clearing her throat.

Pepper shot her an amused smirk before she turned her attention back to Tony, grabbing his hair so he whimpered as she tugged his head back. “Don’t worry. You’ll get to come. I just need to show Natasha our setup.”

Tony whined again, even managed another whimpered “please,” but Pepper just used her grip on his hair to shove his head back down with a faint thump.

Pepper shook her head, exasperated, as she pulled her hand free, then turned to reach for the bottom drawer on the left to pull it open. “In here are the suction dildos and plugs. I like to attach the dildos to the desk or the floor nearby so I can keep an eye on him while I work. The plugs go in if I plan on using his mouth first, so I don’t have to worry about prep halfway through, but use your own judgment in your own scene, of course.”

Natasha doubted she would even pretend to get any work done as she looked through the array of sizes. If Tony was going to fuck himself on one of the dildos, she wanted to take in the full picture, watching his muscles strain and his face go slack as he tried to chase his pleasure. The plugs didn’t conjure up as much arousal, but as she glanced back at Tony’s twitching body, the flange of a plug sticking out, she could see the merit in having him already prepared. “Okay,” she said, instead of ‘how do you have the constitutional fortitude to work during any of this oh my god.’

Pepper closed the bottom drawer and opened the top one. “These are all his various gags. Some are better than others at keeping him quiet, obviously,” she added as Natasha picked through the file hangers to examine them. “My personal favorite for when I need him quiet for phone calls is the penis gag, but you can experiment if you like. There's also some rope in the bottom of the drawer for tying him, which you might need as he learns you’re in charge, but I’ve found I don’t need to use them anymore. He knows I’ll put him where I want him.”

“Yeah,” Natasha agreed, hoping she didn’t sound too hoarse as she remembered how casually Pepper had manhandled Tony onto the desk. She wondered if it was some residual Extremis, but she didn’t really care to ask, because the outcome would be the same—Pepper would still be hot as she moved Tony where she wanted him, and Tony would still be hot as he allowed it. She placed a ring gag back into the drawer carefully and turned her attention to the drawers on the other side of the desk.

Pepper gave Tony another slap on the other cheek as she turned to face it, apparently just to let him know that she hadn’t forgotten about him, and he whimpered helplessly when she ended it with the one smack. She opened the top drawer on the other side. “This is all of our lube. We restock it regularly. We don’t keep it long enough for it to expire,” she added smugly.

“Oh my god,” Natasha said faintly, because it was… quite a lot of lube. Several different small bottles surrounded one large bottle with a pump in it. She tried not to think of why it would be used so liberally and failed as Tony’s body twitched toward Pepper with the explanation, as if the mention of lube might mean it was going to be used on him imminently.

“Some of it’s flavored,” Pepper offered, apparently mistaking her crippling horniness as confusion. “Some of it’s not. Sometimes I have a plan for it and sometimes I just grab whatever’s closest. Tony doesn’t have a preference so long as it’s used liberally. He’s not into that type of pain,” she added firmly.

“Neither am I,” Natasha admitted. She herself hated sex when she wasn’t wet enough. She couldn’t imagine it being any more comfortable for him.

Pepper nodded in approval, shutting the top drawer and opening the bottom one instead. “This is where I keep all my strap-on dildos. I keep an extra harness in here, but Tony prefers it if I just wear mine under my clothes. You don’t have to, obviously,” she added with a shrug, as if Natasha wasn’t getting parched at the idea of her wearing a harness under her skirt that very minute. “You’re in charge, not Tony. I just like catering to him with certain things.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Natasha choked out, hoping she sounded halfway normal and sincerely doubting it. She lifted her fist to her mouth and cleared her throat before adding, “So he likes when you wear clothes, then?”

“He likes the added shame it brings to the power imbalance, that he’s undressed and I’m fully clothed,” Pepper replied with another shrug. She glanced down at her open shirt when Natasha raised an eyebrow, then let out a huff of amusement. “Mostly clothed. I’ll just pull my skirt up, too, and then pull it down when I’m finished. He finds it insanely hot.”

“I’m sure I have some suitable skirts,” Natasha said, instead of agreeing that it was insanely hot. This was supposed to be for Tony, not for her.

Pepper hummed, raising an eyebrow at her in amusement, so she figured she wasn’t doing a very good job at looking as unaffected as she wanted. “Each drawer has additional biometric locks, but it also has a physical key.” She reached into her breast pocket and pulled a tiny key out. Instead of handing it to her, though, she placed it on the small of Tony’s back, and he froze, muscles taut as he tried not to move, lest he dislodge it. “The drawers must remain locked outside of the scene unless you’re restocking or cleaning the toys. I am the only other person with a key. Not even Tony has one. If you take this, even just for the duration of my trip, you’re promising to take care of Tony for me.”

Natasha looked down at the key, deciding not to do either of them the disservice of simply and eagerly picking it up. Tony was watching her out of the corner of his eye, body stiff with nerves. She couldn’t imagine putting herself in the same position of vulnerability, even with the promise of Pepper crushing anyone who tried to use it against her under one of her heels. Finally, very deliberately, she reached out, taking the key between her thumb and index finger. “I assume this is to stay on my person so long as I’m in possession of it,” she said, holding it up, and watched with interest as Tony sagged in relief with a soft moan.

“I keep mine on a chain around my neck,” Pepper replied, which was answer enough. She turned to begin looking through the still-open drawer, her free hand coming to rest on Tony’s back where the key had been. “He likes to see it. I like to see him enjoying himself. It works out.”

Natasha took a step closer to watch as Pepper picked up different dildos and considered the weight of them in her hand, how easily her fingers went around the girth. “I think you should tell me what else he enjoys, just so I don’t have to start from scratch.” Tony was skittish and she didn’t want to put him on edge, she didn’t say, but she knew Pepper, at least, would understand. Tony might, later, when he wasn’t arching his back into Pepper’s touch and drooling on the desk, but she wasn’t too worried about it. If there was anyone who knew what Tony liked, it was Pepper.

“Well, me, personally,” Pepper began, then paused thoughtfully, hefting up another dildo and rolling her wrist to test the weight. She looked at Natasha with a stern expression again. “Tony doesn’t like to be called stupid, or have old arguments thrown in his face. If he misbehaves during a scene, it’s for that scene. It never carries into the next one.”

“Understood,” Natasha said, nodding. It was good information to have. And even when Tony made what she thought were stupid decisions, she could understand his logic, even if she didn't agree with it. He wasn’t a stupid man, and she didn’t know if she could bring herself to call him that even if she was angry. Foolish, certainly, or nearsighted, but never stupid.

“What he does like is to be reminded of is how slutty he is,” Pepper continued, lifting her hand from Tony’s back to grab his hair and tug his head back again. She smirked when he whined in response, hands twisting uselessly against the tie around his wrists, but she quickly let go again, and Tony’s breath heaved in his chest as he laid his head back down, body shaking with desire. “I don’t use his dick often. He likes to have all his power taken away, and penetration is part of that. So I remind him that he’s only as good as his holes.”

Natasha couldn’t help the startled breath she sucked in as Tony whined again, face flushing, but he still shoved his ass up toward Pepper obediently at her words, as if talking about his holes meant she wanted visible submission at the end of the word. She rewarded him by grabbing the flange still sticking out of his ass and twisting it. The noise Tony made in response was caught halfway between a gasp and a cry of pleasure, and he tried to arch his hips back to urge her to do it again. He fell limp with a sob when she ignored his silent plea, instead releasing the plug to give his ass another slap.

“He’s got a sweet mouth,” Pepper continued, and Natasha swallowed thickly when she remembered how blissed out Tony had looked between her thighs before she’d pulled away. “He enjoys eating me out. He’d do it the entire scene, if I let him.” She grimaced a little at the thought. Natasha raised an eyebrow in confusion, but she shook her head in a clear, ‘tell you about it later.’ She decided the dildo she was holding was apparently the one she wanted to use and gave Tony another smack on the ass before she stepped back to roll her skirt up and show off that she was, indeed, wearing a black leather strap-on harness beneath it and nothing else. It was beautiful against her pale skin. “But he looks just as good with my dildo in his mouth, too. So sweet for me, eyes all wet and pleading, throat working to take what I give him. He’s the perfect cock sucker, and I’m only sorry I don’t have a real one for him, because he’d look so good with cum all over his face.”

Tony whined again, hips shifting upward needily, as if to urge her to hurry. Pepper ignored him, instead going at the same steady, meticulous pace to make sure the dildo was on securely, so it wouldn't come loose as she used it on him. Natasha wondered how much of it was because she was actually that careful and how much was that she wanted to show off to her just how cock-hungry Tony actually was.

“His ass is insatiable too,” Pepper added, finally giving him the attention he desired in the form of one last slap across his left cheek that had him moaning plaintively. She gave the dildo one final tug, just to make sure it was on securely, then reached out to grab a cheek in each hand and spread them, so Natasha had a clear view of the plug’s flange disappearing into his pink hole. “Part of the reason I plug him for later is for ease, but a lot of it is also just that he likes to be stuffed full as much as possible. It always gives me ammunition to remind him how slutty he is and how nice I am to indulge him with it.”

“I can see why,” Natasha admitted, because as Pepper wrapped her fingers around the flange again and began to pull the plug out, the way Tony’s hole stretched around it was absolutely obscene.

Pepper let out an amused huff. “Yeah, well. He can come as many times as he can for all I care. You don’t necessarily have to follow that rule, of course. I’m sure he could use learning some restraint. I just like fucking him past orgasm to remind him that just because he might think he’s done, I’m the one who decides when he’s actually finished.” She pulled the plug out the rest of the way, a trickle of lube leaking from Tony’s hole with the motion. She dropped the plug on the desk carelessly, and Tony’s whole body jerked at the sound, shuddering, though whether with surprise or suspense, Natasha couldn’t tell.

Pepper spread Tony’s cheeks again, stepping in closer so she could slide the head of the dildo between them, gathering up the lube along the underside of it before she pressed the head to his twitching hole. “I used to call his asshole a pussy or cunt, when I was first training him up,” she added, and Tony whimpered as her hips paused there, thighs straining up uselessly to try and take in more of the dildo, apparently too eager and horny to even hear her anymore. “You know, all that locker room talk these male CEOs have about fucking their secretaries. Wanted Tony to know that here, with me fucking his ass, he was in the same position as all those secretaries he might have heard about. He liked it back then, but at this point, I’ve trained him so well that it doesn’t really have the same effect as it did before. Now he just accepts it.”

Natasha circled to the other side of the desk when she noticed Pepper had pulled out and was rubbing the dildo to try and pick up more lube from between his cheeks. She pulled the lube drawer open, holding a bottle up at random, and opened it and poured some over the dildo when Pepper nodded, looking relieved. It smelled like cherries, she thought, clicking the cap closed again. She bet Tony would look really good, sucking cherry lube off a strap-on.

“You could probably get him blushing about calling it a pussy, though,” Pepper mused, rubbing the dildo between his cheeks again to spread the lube around. “He’s going to push boundaries that first week. He’ll think he has the upper hand because you’re new. You’ll be under him in the company hierarchy. He’ll think he can convince you to be easier on him.” She looked up Natasha, making direct eye contact with her as she added, “He’ll be wrong, of course,” before she jerked her hips forward, sinking the dildo in halfway in one go.

Tony wailed, back arching, as if trying to move away from the intrusion. Pepper slid her hands from his cheeks to his hips, lifting them so his feet no longer had enough purchase on the floor to move away, and jerked him back onto the dildo so a couple more inches shoved into him, helpless to resist. Tony sobbed out an overwhelmed ‘Pepper,’ but she ignored him, apparently deciding to show Natasha exactly what she meant by ‘he might think he’s done, but I’m the one who decides when he’s finished.’ She rocked her hips forward until they were flush with Tony’s ass, then bent forward, fisting his hair in one hand and bracing herself on the desk with the other as she rolled her hips in a slow, grinding motion that made Tony gasp with every press inside.

Natasha couldn’t help but circle the desk a little further, until she had a better view of Tony’s face. His mouth was gaping open, and she was certain he’d start drooling again soon, eyelids fluttering in an effort to stay open even as he sank back into Pepper’s steady rhythm. His pupils were blown so wide she doubted he could even see her there, watching him, observing as Pepper expertly worked him over until he was the drooling, pathetic slut she expected him to be for her, pushing his hips up against her grip to meet every one of Pepper’s thrusts.

“They have applicators, you know,” she said after a moment.

Pepper looked up from watching Tony pant into the desktop, raising an eyebrow. “Applicators? For what?”

“Coming,” Natasha replied. “There are dildos with cum applicators. You could absolutely see Tony with cum all over his face.” She motioned at where Pepper was still methodically grinding her strap-on into Tony. “Or cream pie his ass. I can send you some links.”

“I want to say I’m surprised, but then, you probably wouldn’t be surprised that this isn’t the extent of our bedroom toys either,” Pepper sighed, then tightened her grip on Tony’s hair until he whimpered plaintively. She leaned in, purring, “How does that sound, Tony? How would you like me coming in your ass, huh? Prove that you’re so hungry to be split open by my cock that you’d be dripping for hours afterward?”

Tony let out a groan as if it was punched out of him, eyes rolling back in his head, hips stuttering against her own inexorable fucking. Every muscle in his body went taut with another moan, and then he sagged against the desktop, boneless, unable to do anything but let out soft, wounded noises as Pepper continued her unyielding thrusts, driving his hips into the sharp edge of the desk with every roll of her hips. His body was pliant and supple beneath hers, taking every thrust willingly, as if it was all he ever wanted, being used by Pepper even after he orgasmed, until she decided she was done.

Natasha had already thought of some ideas to try while Tony was in her care. She hoped that Tony was just as bratty as Pepper had said he would be the first few times, to give her the excuse of being a little rougher than Pepper was being. She wondered if the clothes thing was a hard and fast rule or if there was some wiggle room she could take advantage of. She wanted to tie Tony up, get him into a state of only mild undress, and then spank him into submission and ride his face to really drive home who was going to be boss while Pepper was gone. Only after Tony cried uncle would she finally, graciously let him earn his way back into her good graces by using his mouth to please her. After that, she could focus on keeping his slutty holes filled.

She watched Pepper fuck into him a little bit longer, letting the ideas marinate, before she remembered the face Pepper had made about Tony eating her out the entire scene. She looked up at Pepper, frowning. “Why did you make a face over Tony eating you out?”

“Natasha, I was fucking chafed,” Pepper answered immediately. She didn’t slow her thrusts at all, though, as she added, “I was sore for days. He bruised my clit by suckling on it. I’m pretty sure I was dehydrated by the time I finally got the wherewithal to force him to stop. You don’t understand, Natasha,” she said grimly. “Tony literally would have kept going if I hadn’t stopped him. And I think he would have come eventually on his own, too.”

“Jesus Christ,” Natasha said, flabbergasted, as she looked down at Tony’s slack face again. She fought the urge to shield herself with her hands. Tony couldn’t fucking see her anyway. But the words ‘bruised my clit’ and ‘chafed’ made her want to protect herself, even as she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of Tony’s laser focus. He was a man who threw himself into every job thoroughly, after all.

“My only suggestion is to start small and work your way up instead of thinking, you know, I’m gonna see how long Tony does this before he complains,” Pepper added, apparently reading the wonder in her gaze at Tony. “Tony doesn’t fucking complain about eating pussy. Which is sexy. But I had to put a pad soaked in aloe between my legs for a week.”

Natasha was going to invest in aloe regardless, because she could admit, at least to herself, that she couldn’t hear ‘Tony won’t stop eating you out until you tell him to’ and believe it completely. “How long do you usually fuck him after his orgasm?” she asked, instead of telling her so.

Pepper shrugged. “Until I’m tired. But I’ve gotten real, real good at fucking him, so that could be a while.”

Natasha tried not to whimper at the mental image that information caused her, but she figured it didn’t work when Pepper let out a throaty chuckle. She figured she couldn’t be at fault for it. Both Tony and Pepper were two of the world’s sexiest people. It wasn’t her fault that she had eyes.

#aurumacadicus writes #pride pockets #kink edition #pepperontasha #lemon

[vibes-of-chaos]

Saw someone talking about RWBY and went to check and... Nope. Season 10 is still not even greenlit yet. Honestly the series could not be more disappointing with how it gets handled.

RANT.

At the end of volume 5, it was implied that Raven went home to meet with Taiyang. In 4 seasons there hasn't been a single solitary frame of screentime dedicated to resolving that cliff hanger. They've barely been mentioned in passing. 2 perfectly capable professional fighters that would have been perfect for several fights and conflicts... Just gone. One of them is even capable of making portals to one of the main characters. Raven could have literally gotten them out of the wonderland dimension in seconds. The second those two saw what was happening with that WORLD WIDE BROADCAST their characters, as they stood as people, would have been FROTHING AT THE MOUTH to run over and do something-- Taiyang because he loves his kids, and Raven because she would realize Cinder had lived and would want to put that bitch back down. (Also because she loves Yang but she'd be pretending she didn't.)

The characterization of SEVERAL characters doesn't just leave much to be desired, it's garbage hastily thrown together to further plot points that seemingly will no longer go anywhere, because the team decided to kill them off. Characters who have made complete 180s as people in the worst ways, to the point where their story arcs basically got erased because the story needed to be Edgier.

The points presented to us at the start of the story that got many of us hooked have been completely abandoned, if not laughed off as a joke. Remember all the other teams being setup and not just given spotlights, but several dedicated songs and signs of plot relevance? Remember Haven's teachers that were in the loop with Oz that were also friends with Ruby and Yang's dad and obviously knew that the kids were getting into some shit? Remember the Faunus who had decided to take a stand and help the humans fight back against the grim? The writers don't.

The actors are becoming more of a joke with each passing season, using their positions as Twitter clout to win arguments while phoning in half their performances. Hell, in the RWBY remake, Ruby's actress is quoted as saying that she's decided to play her character as more cynical. Not because RUBY is more cynical-- no, she's still bright eyed and bushy tailed. No the actress has just decided that since Ruby grows to be more cynical after SEVERAL VOLUMES OF TRAGEDY OCCUR, it would somehow be better if she was like that from the beginning.

Also back to that point about the weird Wonderland story... What point did it serve? The season was several episodes shorter than any other and was completely contained without a single cutaway to what the entire rest of the world was dealing with, which considering the size of the plot, is WEIRD and STUPID. It's INSANE how little of a shit the writers gave about their own work, actually. Almost as if it was on purpose. The dire situation the team left was barely talked about. There wasn't a single piece of information given to the audience about the fate of the group of refugees who they saved. This was basically a DBZ filler arc, that did nothing but show that Juan looks attractive as he gets older, and... I guess make Ruby feel more confident? When a simple conversation between her and her team would have done the same thing, because her only real issue was that she thought she was doing a bad job? And show that the Gods of their universe had a previous residence?

Volume 9? This. Was. Anime. Filler. Because no one on the writing side of production can figure out what the hell kind of conclusion the show is trying to reach. They've lost the thread completely. They branched so far away from the original story that absolutely none of Monty's notes probably make sense anymore, and we all keep getting told "it's coming! We're working on it! You'll learn all the answers next volume!" When 10 hasn't even been Okay'd TO BE WORKED ON. They're floundering and stringing everyone along, all the while making a SECOND crossover movie with the Justice League-- yep, the RWBY characters with the Justice League. Why? Who knows! BUT THERE'S A SECOND ONE NOW! It's blatantly clear that to RWBY's team, the show isn't even their priority with the IP anymore. This show is completely dead unless a complete overhaul occurs within the writing and directing teams. And I mean that genuinely. I'm just gonna say it: the reason 9 was so short and didn't do a VERY needed cutaway, was because no one on that crew knew whether they wanted the refugees to live or die. They needed more time to decide how much more edgy they could get, so they fabricated a season of complete nonsense so that they could desperately try to patch up their own mistakes. Volume 10 isn't being greenlit because even the CEOs in charge know that their pitches are embarrassing. They needed time to pull themselves together.

And then they wasted it on the second Justice League crossover instead. Because, you know, THAT'S what RWBY fans have been begging for.

#rian posting #rant

[graftisms]

CALLIE & ANGEL — DAY THIRTY-TWO

location :    morning / bedroom

featuring :    @dobits

ANGEL

it's one of those mornings where angel doesn't wake up bright eyed and bushy tailed, seemingly taken on some of callie's innate exhaustion from the night before. he's happy to be here, for sure, but there's the distinct awareness that there's a whole lot of shit waiting for them outside this bed. so both arms curl around her little spoon to squish her closer against his chest when the blinding studio-grade lights turn on and the other islanders start milling about. "morning," he yawns into her hair, eyes buried away from the light. a deep hum settles him into consciousness, he makes to pull the comforter up over their heads for some semblance of privacy or else some darkness. "how'd you sleep?" 

CALLIE

last night was the first time she let angel hold her the whole night, draped around her like a security blanket. she needed it, after the emotional minefield that was the recoupling, paired with her living room chat with frankie afterwards. it was nearly bedtime by the time it had ended, and she was grateful for that, optimistic that a new day would be the fresh start she needs. it's hard to feel so optimistic now, with the light of the bedroom blinding her awake. she's grateful that angel tugs the covers over them before she can reach for her sunnies, not ready to be social with the others yet.  "morning," she mumbles back, turning herself around so she can face him, only to bury her head in his chest. "really well, actually." so well that she's tempted to go back to sleep, producers be damned. "how about you?"

ANGEL

"good," he answers, muffled with his lips against the crown of her head. "gonna keep sleeping. all day, maybe." even the sarcasm is entirely out of character. by now he should've already meditated, worked out. should be drinking a smoothie and bringing callie coffee right about now, but it's a whole new villa out there and she's managed to instill some fear in him after their chat yesterday on the loungers. "mm, gotta go talk to dylan though," he reminds himself, some optimistic excitement in that. actively ignores that he's gonna need to talk to frankie, too. he smiles, pulls back an inch to see if he can get a look at her face. "the girl he brought back seems sweet."

CALLIE

"you feeling okay?" she pulls back far enough to look up him, keeping her arms loosely around his waist. callie would be lying if she wasn't a little worried about he's doing with everything, feeling guilty for throwing him to the wolves last night while she caught up with dylan and had her talk with frankie. it's not like she thinks angel can't make friends without her, but he's been such a steady support system for her through all of this just by being here, that she wants to do the same for him. a smile breaks out on her face when he says he's going to meet dylan, leaning in for a quick kiss. "yeah, she does. i think." it's hard not to sound a little reluctant, with dylan's track record. "i should probably talk to her this morning too. what that other bombshell said about her was weird, don't you think?"

ANGEL

"kinda," he chuckles lowly, combing her hair back off her face. people are moving from their own beds around them, but shrouded beneath the covers, he's under the illusion they're the only ones in the villa. "i'm happy you kept me," angel clarifies, the corners of his mouth uptick in a smile. "but it's just like it's the first day where it's... like, it's not just about talking shit with jude or swimming some laps or following you around like i've been doing so far. now there's... stuff." it's all less laid back than it was yesterday, but his disposition still reads mostly optimistic. "just the nerves, y'know." as soon as he leaves this bed it'll all melt right off, he'll leave it behind in the security of their space. "so fucking weird," he agrees, brow furrowing thoughtfully. "honestly, it went right over my head. but, i mean, she was on her way out, maybe she was just sayin' shit, y'know? gonna have to suss the girl out yourself."

CALLIE

"yeah, i get that," she nods slightly, her head shifting on the pillow. "it's kinda weird for everyone being back, just so many people here now. i can't imagine how you guys must be feeling, with all these randos." it's funny calling islanders like marcus and even her brother randos, lips twitching into a small smile. her conversation with frankie is still weighing on her shoulders, more than she had hoped, but the burden doesn't feel nearly as heavy when she's with angel. "i'm glad you're here, really." reaching up, she traces his jawline lightly with her thumb. "yeah, i guess," she sighs, but doesn't totally believe it. "i'm definitely gonna suss her out. it's hard, because i really want a win for him, but he hasn't been the most careful around here." she lowers her voice as she says it, the shuffle of people from outside their cocoon reminding her where exactly they are. "at least your bestie is here still," she adds with a smirk, steering the conversation off her brother.

ANGEL

"nah, the more the merrier." and he actually means it, thinks that he'd get along with all of 'em no problem. the real issue is the minefield of drama the villa seems to have turned into, mostly in the fear of bringing up the wrong name to the wrong person. it's not unlike the current moment, his lips stretching into a reluctant smile. "i talked to miles." the real sentiment is indicated in his tone -- and the guy's super fucking cool. head nods against the pillow, his own voice a murmur. "he'll figure it out. like, as long as he doesn't relapse to naomi, he's golden." 'cause as much as he loves that girl, he expects her focus is elsewhere. callie's little smirk is met with angel's big, goofy grin. "yeah, big shock, huh? you know he knows adela? like... knows adela. that's what he thinks, anyway. her, too."

CALLIE

miles is quite literally the last name callie would like to hear in her bed right now, a fun reminder of both dylan and frankie gassing the guy up to her last night. what, now he's already reached angel? the bloke works fast. callie can't believe she's thinking it, but she'd rather have him be friends with jude. but of course she won't say any of it, just nods and averts her gaze, watching her fingers glide across on his skin. "i don't think he's gonna relapse to naomi," she says, before hesitating. "—i hope not, at least." it'd make things hard for callie if they're breaking up for good, but it'd be ten times harder to watch if dylan stayed stuck in that drama. "what?" the mention adela makes her eyes snap over to his, eyebrows raise high. "no he doesn't." but even as she says it, it's clear she believes it, just doesn't want to. the laugh that comes out of her mouth doesn't sound quite human, having to slap her hand over her mouth. at least she's no longer thinking about miles. "he's such a slut," she stage whispers, once she's removed her hand, eyes crinkling in amusement.

ANGEL

the silence almost fills in the expletives in itself. she's doing that thing where she gets in her head and this whole situation - the frankie and miles of it all - are unfamiliar enough to angel that he can't tell what she's thinking. if it's irritation or sadness or if she just doesn't care to acknowledge it. so he sighs, short, but patient, and lets the moment pass him by. "guess we'll see what she does today." because it does kinda feel like naomi exerts a shaky control of her dynamics and, really, he can't wait to go and prod her for inside gossip. head nods repeatedly, only partly restraining a snort, and he presses his fingers over her's as if to help reign in her laugh. all for naught, considering it triggers his own breathless chuckles. "i know," he exhales, hushing her playfully. "it's wild. i thought he was gonna be done with the fucking drama." whispers trail off, angel shrugs. "but maybe you should mention that to dylan. 'cause, i dunno, it's jude. i could totally see him, like, throwing a wrench into dylan and adela's thing without even really meaning to, mr. magoo style." or, just as likely, actively meaning to.

CALLIE

"i know they talked last night," she says, knowing that around the time her and frankie were going at it, naomi and dylan were probably doing the same. hopefully not as volatile as her conversation had been, but she can only assume not, knowing dylan. things have felt so good with naomi since they made up in casa, but callie recognizes that when it comes to her and dylan, she doesn't think she'll be the one that naomi wants to open up to. so it's a good thing naomi and angel are friends, so someone can actually keep her updated on what the hell is going on with her. callie's face smushes together when he touches her hand, but she does reign it in, especially at the realization that yeah, she's going to have to tell dylan about this. "yeah, i'll probably talk to him this morning about everything," she sighs. fuckin' jude. there's a complaint on the tip of her tongue, but callie is back to being on her best behavior when it comes to him. angel has to deal with all her frankie drama; the least she can do is get along with his closest mate. eyeing him for a moment, callie pauses before asking, "we're good, yeah?" they feel fine, a much needed normal start to a new day, but it's hard not to feel a little self-conscious, given everything going on with her. there's no cameras on them beneath the covers, so any mention of frankie will probably need to be restated later,  but she doesn't even know where to begin with that. how much or little he wants to hear. she'd almost rather he ask. "what are you thinking about?" she asks instead.

ANGEL

"oh." and there's some indication of finality, or as much as the nature of the villa can lend.  they talked last night and now... and now? who knows, probably. angel's interested to find out the story directly from naomi, probably a different version than the one callie got from her brother. and, really, he's doing olympic-worthy somersaults to avoid comparing the situation to callie and frankie. makes it a bit harder to stick the proverbial landing when she asks point blank if they're good. "no," he answers, managing not to smile as he shakes his head, the tip of his nose grazing against her's. "actually, i'm so mad. we got a big problem." it's a deadpanned sarcasm derived from the humor in the idea that he could blame her for having any kinda bad feelings about last night, about the state of things. a long inhale buys him some time to decide how he wants to convey his thought, pulls himself back from her a bit, his hand pushing flyaways off his face. "i'm... i dunno, i guess i'm wondering how you're dealing with this. i want you to be okay. and i want...," exhale, he pauses to find the right words, forms them quietly from under their blanket, "i wanna be part of this, y'know? 'cause i know that was the big thing for you. you wanted to keep me separate, didn't want me to be dragged into whatever shit was waiting for you here, but, like, i am here, callie. and -- you didn't come to me after you talked to her last night." it's difficult to broach because he's not upset, just concerned. and it feels like he's saying too much, filling in the silence with his shit when it's what she should be doing. "i don't need you to protect me from what's happening. i wanna be here for it. i want you to tell me what you're thinking."

CALLIE

his sarcasm doesn't make her feel better, probably because he's pulling away from her only moments later, taking a deep breath that makes her heart sink. if he's going to put some space between them, then she'll do the same, shifting away a bit so she can tuck her hands under her head on the pillow. callie's quiet as she lets his words sink in, wishing they weren't cocooned in a blanket so she could look anywhere else except him without it being obvious. instead she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to zen herself from going back to the place she had been last night. she had thought airing her grievances out with frankie would make her feel better, but instead she felt worse, like some kind of vindictive megabitch who wanted to hurt her. she hadn't meant to, but she also hadn't gone easy on her, either.  "last night was hard," she admits finally, opening her eyes to peer back at him anxiously. "i don't want you to think i didn't come to you because of you. i know you're here, but... you shouldn't have to deal with that." her crying over someone else. she feels guilty enough, with angel being so understanding about it all, looking at her in a way that's completely different than how frankie looked at her last night. but there was once a time when frankie had looked at her with softness too; she wants his warm opinion of her to stay warm.  "everything's just so new between us," she adds quietly, words tumbling out, "and i like the way we are. but i also know that i can come off too strong, and this situation doesn't make it any easier, and i don't want it to affect us. i'm trying not to scare you away." she says the last part with a lightness in her voice, though it doesn't reach her eyes. really, the whole frankie situation makes callie feel like a burning building, and angel would be smart to evacuate. part of her is still waiting for him to realize it.

ANGEL

all of a sudden it feels like the tiny bit of space that squeezed between them has turned into a long expanse, a dubious sea of pronouns that still manages to omit the most prevalent of all: her. "i wanna deal with it," angel murmurs despite the distinct knowledge that it's not so simple. more than that, she's probably right. "i get if you needed, like... your friends, not --," shoulders shift against the mattress, struggling to fill in the expletive. your partner? suitor? man? whatever decisive label they want to avoid slapping on it. "but i just want you to know i'm on your team." it feels unfair. like he's collecting all these little bits of callie, the things that make up who she is, like they're plastic eggs at easter, but she's keeping one from him out of fear. has he given her a reason to doubt him? angel turns, picking himself up and tabling his body over her's, held up by both arms on either side of her shoulders, the blanket tenting around him. there's the vague hope that jude isn't around to see the movement under the covers and spout off some punchy indecorous quip or, worse, for someone to stick a mic under here with them. "everything is new between us," he starts, voice low. "this shit is gonna affect us 'cause it should. i want it to bring us closer, y'know? i wanna know about it 'cause i wanna know you. the stuff that's important to you. nothin's gonna scare me." tail-end of the sentiment is muffled as he presses his face into the crook of her neck, noses the curve of her jaw. a kiss is dropped against her pulse and then a smile starts to grow. "unclench, cal... and tell me about last night 'cause you know i'm dying to know."

CALLIE

"i know you are, really." she feels a little guilty he has to even remind her that he's on her team, because to her it's not even a question. "it's not like i went off afterwards to find someone else. i just... wanted to be alone," she admits, not wanting to share how much she had cried afterwards, more than was probably necessary for the situation. "i ran into charlene in the bathroom, but that's it. then it was time for bed." and he knows the rest, her slinking into bed silently and giving him some cuddles, promising they can talk more tomorrow. she was just tired, she had said, and it wasn't exactly untrue. her breath hitches when he moves on top of her, and she's certain of the way it probably between them right now. but the way his hair curtains down on him when he looks at her is enough to make her smile a little, reaching up to brush it out of his face gently. his words are kind and his tone and he fills her chest with butterflies, but she can't help but think that he's wrong, too. "i don't want my past relationship to be the thing that brings us closer together,"  she says, looking up at him. "that's not fair to you. i don't want this to end up looking or feeling like some kind of rebound, because it's not. if you want to ask about it, i'll tell you whatever you want to know, because i get you're a part of it. but you don't have to white knight me. the fact that you're still here means enough."

arms wrap around his waist in an attempt to bring him closer, wanting nothing more than to squeeze him like she'd do a teddy bear, until she no longer hurts as much. neck stretching a bit to give him more space in the crook of it, she finally sighs. "it was terrible," she admits, voice small. "i knew what i was going to say. how i heard about the naomi thing, which opened me up to pursuing other things, and then the postcard just confirmed that i did the right thing. but it got heated, which i don't think she expected, and i didn't expect to feel as angry as i was. i basically threw four days worth of emotional stewing at her, and she was defensive the whole time." there's more to it, of course, but she won't get into how frankie flaunted her new relationship in callie's eyes, making her feel like she was nothing more than a transition for frankie. "she called me mean," she sniffs, eyes closing for a few breaths. "and i was. i was so mean. i was right, but i was still mean." her voice shakes because it's not easy to admit, especially to him. she doesn't want him to see her like that. "i know you can find it hard to believe..." she deadpans, meeting his eye with a hesitant smile.

ANGEL

ever stubborn, callie contraries his point and angel can't even manage to be annoyed. he knew she'd have some kind of argument, however gentle or insistent, and the warmness of familiarity curls up in his chest like a contented cat. maybe they really don't need dealing with the walking trauma of frankie to bind them together, maybe they've done it all their own. "rebound," angel repeats in a soft, scoffed laugh. there's no way anybody that knows callie would think she'd even be capable of it. "nobody's thinkin' that. and - shit - they better not. i grafted my ass off for days to get your attention, i totally earned the credit." light hearted, a stab at levity. it's hard to watch her try and shuck off the mess from last night, all he wants is a clean slate for them both. 

it's not any easier just to be buried in his neck. her throat bobs against his nose, the voice that comes out is as painful to hear as he imagines her face is to look at right now. his thumb grazes her cheek, back and forth, as she speaks. "did you get any answers from her? or, like... clarity? anything?" closure, most of all, but to say as much feels like an expression of selfishness coming from him. as far as he can tell, things have just opened right back up. there's something so heart wrenching about the way callie says mean, like it's the worst possible thing frankie could have called her. it has angel pulling back with a frown, wants to look at her face. "you were feeling emotional and wronged and... yeah, no one's gonna blame you for that. she thinks you're mean 'cause you're not saying anything she wants to hear." he's sure it would've been a whole lot easier for frankie if callie had been like hey, no worries, thanks for the memories. it just doesn't work that way when people actually put their feelings into a relationship. the sentiment does earn a smile though, pinches her cheek. "you aren't mean... hard headed, for sure, but not mean."

CALLIE

at the end of the day, callie's not really the type of person to care the opinion of others. she had learned early enough in life that everyone is going to try to share their two pence, whether wanted or not, and it doesn't pay to try to pander to anyone else. so it's not other people that callie's worried about when she brings up rebounds as much as she is anxious about what angel thinks. he may so far live up to his namesake, suspiciously too good about all of this, but unless he has the confidence of a narcissist, it'd be impossible for him to not be a little rattled. but if he's going to laugh it off, god knows she's not going to push it, instead rolling her eyes lightly. "okay. it was, like, two days. you could've had it much harder," she chastises him, warmth spreading in her chest at how normal some things can still feel when talking to him.

granted, his questions about frankie don't make that feeling last long. "define clarity," she says slowly, mind reeling at last night's conversation. "well, she basically told me she forgot the naomi thing even happened, because it didn't mean anything to her, in just a really dismissive way. i called her out on it after, and she apologized, but..." it's not very sincere, if you have to convince someone something is worth apologizing over. "she also said she brought him back because she wanted to continue getting to know both of us," callie snorts, feeling a familiar flash of irritation at the reminder. "i told her i wasn't interested, and that i feel sorry for her new guy, that she brought him back to be an option." though the reality is it's hard to feel much of anything for miles, considering he's a stranger to her. when angel looks back at her callie's reminded of one of the many reasons why she likes him, a sincerity in his gaze that's hard to come by around here. it's because of that that callie believes there's truth to what she says, even if he doesn't know the whole situation. by now, he knows enough—if not about her and frankie, then about her. "i'm pretty sure other people in the villa would argue with you about that," she admits, thinking about seb and jenny, "but i appreciate it. i'm just annoyed at all of it. i'm annoyed at myself, for letting my anger get in the way." and despite knowing he wanted to hear about it, callie's annoyed at herself, feeling like she's harping on it. "sorry," she sighs, forehead resting against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. "i told you this wasn't going to be fun."

ANGEL

“clarity,” he repeats thoughtfully, only vaguely like he’s in a spelling bee. “understanding. like, get a little peace maybe.” given the vibes, he’s guessing not so much. or maybe, with the brutal context frankie’s apparently besmirched onto her last night, she’s now chock full of conviction. he can only hope. “you’re fucking kidding,” angel laughs humorlessly. he takes a beat to put himself in those shoes, imagine callie foolin’ around with jude and then saying she forgot, that it wasn’t a big deal. he’d fucking walk. brows raise, genuinely surprised frankie would admit she still wants to keep her options open to callie even though he’d half expected as much. he feels the pang of wariness clench at his stomach. “yeah… i mean, that’s fucked up for him. he’s really feelin’ her, and it’s not like…,” not like he did anything wrong. angel shrugs off the sentiment, can’t imagine it’s at all what she wants to hear now. “i can’t believe she thought she’d still be able to get to know you. the girl’s got balls.”

lips press together against his smile, pretending to keep a cool collectedness. “well, i’d argue back. i could show ‘em mean.” the expectation is that it’s probably laughable to imagine angel angry, but it’s not as shocking as a concept as the times callie’s resorted to frustration. a memory of the night during casa by the pool chimes in his head, when the girls had been passively arguing and callie stomped inside for the towels. even then he’d thought she was the most interesting little tantrum-haver. “nah, i dunno how you would’ve gotten through that without losing your temper at least a little. especially when somebody doesn’t get why you’re acting like that, like doesn’t see they did something wrong… it’s hard.” there’s few things as lonely as not being understood, especially by the one who’s supposed to be your partner. angel hums a chuckle. “it’s day by day, right? matter fact, let’s just take it hour by hour. but first… we are gonna have to get up.” and face the music. he slowly pulls the covers back down around his shoulders, eyes squinting against the soundstage lighting. “we’ll have fun today, ‘kay? me and you. a swim or something.”

CALLIE

she does feel a little better talking to angel about it, surprisingly. callie didn't realize how badly she needed the validation that she wasn't wrong until he basically says as much, smile small but not entirely genuine. "yeah, she's out of her mind," she shakes her head. it's hard not to think about what would've happened if callie hadn't learned about the naomi stuff, if she had spent all of casa waiting for someone who'd bring back a second option anyway. the thought of it makes her adrenaline kick back up again, and despite how shitty things are now, she's grateful for the way things have gone. right now, she'd rather be laying here with angel than anything else. "do you even know how to be mean?" she teases, hands moving down to poke at his abdomen. "i feel like you take your name too literally sometimes, you know." she's tempted to ask what the worst thing he's ever done has been, but she's distracted by the light that comes from him pulling the covers down, immediately making her groan. "do we have to?" her asks, voice muffled from her face still pressed into his chest, trying to shield herself until her eyes adjust to the light. eventually she pulls back, moving her hair out of her face to peer up at him, nodding at the offer. "i have some people i should check in on, but i want us to spend as much time as possible today. i'm gonna make breakfast, i think i owe charlene after last night," she makes a face. hands resting on his shoulders, callie wiggles herself into she's sitting up more, leaning forward to brush her lips against his in a kiss that makes it clear she doesn't care about morning breath. "can you just... do me a favor?" her voice is quiet when she finally pulls away a few inches, just enough to meet his eyes. "if this starts becoming too much for you, or not fun anymore, i need you to let me know. we're both gonna be honest, right?"

ANGEL

“of course i do,” he snorts, muscles tensing against the prodding of her fingers. “trust me, i’m plenty capable of fucking up.” angel means it in a general way, but it comes out feeling too specific, can feel the ashes of a whole ‘nother conversation kindling alight. it doesn’t feel like the time to unveil any skeletons in their respective closets, hadn’t really been a fan of it the first time around when he’d been exposed as a cheater. they’ll come to it eventually, he figures. he definitely doesn’t want to give her the wrong impression that he’s perfect. for now he laughs lightly, a deep rumble from his chest and squeezes her in. “mmm, eggs sound good… yeah, i gotta cuddle jude now,” he sighs into a smile, acknowledging the shuffling of jude’s feet from somewhere nearby in the villa, probably biding his time before he crawls into the empty spot callie leaves behind. angel begrudgingly lets her push herself up, takes her kiss with hooded eyes. “mhm,” he agrees, mostly distracted. learning what he’s promised makes him a little more lucid. he nods quietly at first, arms slipping up her sides. for all their disclaimers and radical honesty, angel wants to leave room for optimism. “i can do that… as long as you do me a favor. don’t count on that happening, okay?”

CALLIE

"oh, i'm sure you are," she cracks a smile, wrinkling her nose back at him. callie certainly hadn't meant to imply that, the weight of the information about his last relationship still too real, not something she can physically think about with all the frankie drama swirling in the air. hard to believe that was only a day and a half ago. she does make a note to bring it up at some point soon, still wanting to know what she's getting herself into before getting too invested—but then angel laughs, and flashes her one of his goofy smiles, and she realizes it's a little too late for that. "you have to, do you?" she snorts, shaking her head. maybe she should make some eggs for jude... no, she's not there yet. baby steps. the look on his face after kissing her just makes her want to do it again; it'd be so easy to just spend the rest of the day kissing in bed, drama and television show be damned. swallowing at his words, she holds his gaze for a moment before nodding, pressing another quick kiss to his lips before tapping him on the arms to let her get up. "don't take too long with your boyfriend, otherwise breakfast is gonna get cold." and just because he's so bloody good, she'll be making bacon with those eggs.

#callie & angel 008 #callie & angel ; #callie ;

[anoras]

not me thinking about asking the dm if i can change georgia's high concept aspect if she gets seriously injured again 😭

#mara.txt #honestly..... how can she be bright eyed and bushy tailed after all this #it's a wonder she's ever been that at all!!! #she worked so hard and did so much for herself to grow out of her past and survive and thrive and #god this most recent stuff fucked her up

[wizkiddx]

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

#tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tomholland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #harry holland

[karahalloway]

(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 4 - Southbound

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Synopsis: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale's problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper gets an early wake-up call (again)... and Drake makes a detour on the way down to Ramsford.

Word Count: 6,500

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, fluff, tiny hints of smut)

Chapter theme song:

Bonus Material: Extract from Harper’s Scrapbook

Chapter 4 - Southbound

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I am dragged from the drudges of slumber by the unmistakable sound of an alarm blaring next to my head.

With a disgusted growl, I fumble for the phone to turn off the offending noise, so I can return to the warm cocoon of Drake's chest and sleep. But before I get at the source of the disturbance, I feel Drake reach over me and grab the phone.

I sigh relievedly as he switches the alarm off.

But my reprieve is short-lived...

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead."

I grunt at him in disapproval, yanking myself around to burrow my face into the crook of his neck.

I feel Drake's chest rumble with a chuckle as he drops a kiss on top of my head. "I know it's early, but we need to get up."

I gasp in shock as he throws the covers back and exists the bed.

"Five more minutes?" I ask hopefully, searching for the edge of the blanket to pull it back over me while keeping my eyes firmly shut.

But my hopes are dashed as he flicks on the bedside light.

Opening a bleary eye, I see Drake looking at me with a wry quirk to his mouth as he bends down to brush a kiss against my lips. "You can sleep in the car."

"Eugh... Fine," I mutter resignedly. I honestly thought that the days of way-too-early o'clock wake up calls were a thing of the past...

By the time I've blinked my eyes open, Drake's already disappeared into the bathroom.

With concerted effort, I push myself up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Tapping on Drake's phone, I can see that it's just gone 5am.

With a grimace, I roll out of bed and stumble towards the bathroom for a scalding shower to wake myself up.

Drake had not been exaggerating his intentions yesterday, and we ended up squeezing what definitely felt like a week's worth of sex into one afternoon. And even though it had been heaven at the time — kissing, laughing, making love, and exploring each other's bodies with our hands and mouths without any worries or interruptions — I now felt like I need another day in bed just to recover from it all.

Stepping into the bathroom on shaky legs, I see that Drake's already done with his warp-speed shower, and is in the process of towelling himself off, though he'd left the water running for me.

I pull a face.

How he’s so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, I have no idea. Especially given that he did most of the work yesterday on about five hours' worth of sleep after having been up for over twenty-four...

Maybe he’s one of those mystical morning people, like Maxwell, who can get up and go at any time of day...

"Try not to take too long," he says, dropping a kiss on my shoulder as I amble past. "We need to be on the road by half-past at the latest."

I sigh in acquiescence as I verily fall into the shower.

But as the warm spray hits my head, it seems to lift the fog of sleep from my brain, and after a moment or two, I start feeling more awake. Knowing that my hair is no doubt a frizzy, tangled disaster after yesterday, I proceed to wash and rinse myself from head to toe as fast as I can, so I have enough time to do something with my unruly locks before getting dressed.

Turning the spray off, I quickly dry myself and wrap my hair into a turban before stepping up to the mirror to apply some basic make-up. Even with daily use of the magical arnica cream that Drake had given me, I still have a couple of lingering patches of green on my face from that horrid day in Applewood. Plus, there is a very high probability that I'll be seeing Christian again tonight, and I want to look as put-together as possible when I give the new King of Cordonia a piece of my mind for what he did to me at the Coronation Ball.

Satisfied with my appearance, I unfurl my hair from the towel and give it a quick blow-dry. Since I don’t have time to style my hair into anything more sophisticated, I spin it into a simple, over-the-shoulder braid. After a quick spritz of my favourite perfume, I am zipping up my toiletry and make-up bags and walking back into the bathroom feeling much more awake and refreshed.

Stepping into the room, I see that while I have been sorting myself out, Drake has not only gotten dressed, but has also tidied up the mess we made yesterday, and is now standing by the bed looking at his phone with a scowl.

"What's wrong?" I ask, as I open my suitcase to deposit my bags and extract a bra and a pair of panties.

"Chris wants to meet at the Beaumonts' tonight."

I quirk a brow as I pull my underwear on. "I thought we'd be going to the Palace."

"Same," Drake admits, shoving his phone into his pocket. "But he did mention that he was worried about security, so maybe he feels that Ramsford will be safer."

"What can he possibly want to talk about that requires so much secrecy?"

"No idea," admits Drake, scratching at the two-days' worth of stubble on his cheek. It looks good on him. "But whatever it is, it can't be good."

"Well, I guess you'll find out soon enough," I declare, pulling on the off-the-shoulder white dress I wore for the first day of the Apple Blossom Festival. "Could you do the zip at the back?"

Drake's face softens as he steps up behind me. "I haven't seen you in this before."

"I got it when we snuck down to the capital," I say over my shoulder. "You like it?"

"Very much," he confirms warmly, running his hands over my bare shoulders. "Especially the way it shows off your legs."

"You prefer short skirts over ballgowns, then?" I ask cheekily as I bend down to zip my suitcase back up.

"Hands down," he grins, grabbing my closed-up suitcase before I can protest and slotting his duffle on top. "That barely-there dress you wore for the Coronation Ball was great and all, but..."

I smile knowingly as I follow him out the door with my small wheelie bag in tow, but not before I grab the single rose off the desk. "You like seeing the bottom half as well."

He gives me a confirmatory smirk. "Especially yours. When you walked out after you shift in New York wearing that miniskirt, I nearly lost it."

I laugh as I thread the rose stem through my braid, remembering his shocked reaction and how he had stormed off to the bar when we arrived at the club. "Was that why you were so grumpy the rest of the night?"

He heaves a beleaguered sigh as he presses the button for the elevator. "All I could think about was how it would feel to have your legs wrapped around me, naked except for that skirt. But, I knew that was never gonna happen."

"You could've bought me a drink," I say, leaning into him as we wait for the lift to arrive. "Or asked me to dance. Who knows what might've happened, then..."

He scoffs. "I wish. Chris had already staked his claim on you the moment he walked in and saw you. And it wasn't like you could tear your eyes off him either. Trust him to charm the hot waitress with the best legs in the entire city..."

"Yes, he was very charming," I concede, snaking my arm around his waist, "I mean, it's not every day that you meet a handsome guy in a New York dive bar who turns out to be a prince. There is bound to be a certain degree of shocked fascination during such an encounter."

"I guess..." he grumbles, his fingers running over my braid. "Doesn't give a guy like me a snowball's chance in hell, though, does it?"

"Oh, maybe not initially," I tease, as the bell dings to announce the arrival of the lift. "But things worked out in your favour in the end, didn't they? I mean, if I hadn't had hit it off with Christian, the two of us probably wouldn't be standing here right now."

"Yeah, I guess," he mutters as the doors open and we step inside. "But we're not out of the woods yet."

"No..." I agree with a sigh, knowing that once we got back to Cordonia, we were going to be diving straight into the massive pile of shit left in the wake of the press scandal.

We reach the lobby and Drake leads us to the reception desk.

"Give me the room key."

I dig it out of my bag and hand it to him.

The girl manning the desk lifts her head and her eyes widen when she spots Drake. "Err... Bonjour!"

"Bonjour," he replies, sliding the key card across the counter. "Nous sortons de la chambre 502."

"Eh, oui! Certainement!"

I watch in amusement as the receptionist starts tapping away on her keyboard while casting furtive glances at Drake from underneath her false lashes, a blush colouring her cheeks. Drake merely drums his fingers on the desk, impatient to get going.

While on some level I feel for the girl — I know exactly what it feels like to have people look straight past you when you’re a worker in the hospitality sector — her unguarded reactions to Drake's presence do make me wonder whether (now that the two of us are technically an item) I'll need to defend against unwanted advances from other women, or contend with any jealous exes. Afterall, Drake is a good-looking guy, and — based on everything that we did yesterday — very experienced. So, even though Maxwell had said that he's never seen Drake with a girlfriend before, I know that he must've acquired that experience from somewhere... probably a lot of somewheres.

"Selon le system, tout a été payé et vous êtes maintenant régler la note. Y a-t-il l'autre chose que je—"

"Non, merci," interjects Drake, already turning away, much to the girl's disappointment.

"Don't we need to pay for the extra night?" I ask, hurrying after him. "Or the food?"

"I sorted all that yesterday," he replies as he strides out of the lobby.

Of course he did...

"What do I owe you?"

He throws me an offended look. "Nothing."

"But—"

"Gale, it's fine. You shouldn't have had to pay for any of this in the first place. Plus," he adds with a wily glance, "I can claim it all back as a work-related expense."

I quirk a brow at him. "Perks of the job, huh?"

"Damn straight," he confirms with a lopsided grin.

We arrive at the parking lot, where Drake makes quick work of loading our bags into the trunk before settling into the driver's seat and setting our destination on the car's navigation system.

"Ten and a half hours?" I gasp in disbelief when the route pings up on the screen.

"The software always overestimates," replies Drake unconcernedly as he starts the car.

"What time are you meeting Christian?"

"Seven," he says, manoeuvring out of the parking lot.

I do some quick mental maths. "Won't we get to Ramsford ahead of time, then?"

"Probably," he shrugs. "But I want to get well away from Paris before the morning rush hour. Otherwise, we could be stuck in gridlock for hours because some idiots decided to have an accident."

"Fair enough," I concede, settling back into the seat.

"Get some more sleep if you want," he advises, reaching over to brush his hand over mine. "The first leg of the drive isn't very interesting anyway."

"Wouldn't you prefer some company?"

He flashes me a warm smile as he loops his fingers through mine. "I've already got it."

I can't help but smile back as I squeeze his hand. "Feel free to wake me if you get bored."

* * *

I jerk awake with a start, as I feel myself get thrown forward in my seat.

"Trou du cul!" shouts Drake, leaning on the horn.

I feel the seatbelt dig into my collarbone as it catches me, before I get dumped back into the seat.

"Wh-what happened?" I ask shakily.

"Some asshole cut us up," seethes Drake, glaring daggers at the car in front. "Fuckin' French don't know how to fuckin’ drive..."

"So... You swear at them in French?"

"I like to mix things up," he replies tightly, still on edge from the near-miss. Flicking his eyes at me, he asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah," I say, adjusting myself in the seat and loosening the seatbelt back up. "You?"

"I'm good."

"You're not gonna go all GTA on the guy's ass?"

Drake snorts. "No. I don't have a handy crowbar to smash his windshield with. And I'd prefer not to write the car off."

"Yeah, definitely not," I agree, rubbing my clavicle. "Where are we, anyway?"

"Just passing Dijon. We've been going for about three hours."

"Oh." I passed out hard then.

"There's a coffee and some breakfast for you."

Glancing down, I spot two takeaway coffees sitting in the cupholders and some kind of sandwich-shaped thing in a grease-proof wrapper.

"You're a lifesaver," I reply with a grateful smile.

Drake flashes me a wry look. "Two things I've learned about you. You need food and sleep at regular intervals to keep you functional. And the occasional shot of caffeine."

"Doesn't everyone?" I ask, reaching for the food eagerly.

"I can get by on limited rations if I need to," he responds with a shrug.

Picking up the sandwich, I extract it from the wrapper and I'm hit by the delicious smell. "Is this a grilled cheese?"

"Croque monsieur. But pretty much the same thing."

I take a big bite and sigh blissfully. "Mmm... So good!"

"Thought you'd like it," grins Drake knowingly.

"D'you want some?" I ask around a large mouthful.

"Nah. It's all for you."

"Good. 'Cos I wasn't gonna give you any."

Drake laughs. "You're not very good when it comes to sharing food, are you?"

"I told you," I reply nonchalantly, polishing off the rest of the sandwich. "I have a healthy appetite."

"You most certainly do," he agrees with a look that makes it clear he's not talking about food anymore.

I glance at him as I reach for the coffee. "You weren't complaining yesterday."

"Trust me," he murmurs with a heated gaze. "That's not something I'm ever gonna complain about."

His hand ghosts up the inside of my thigh and my coffee nearly goes down the wrong way.

"Easy there, Casanova... You need to watch the road."

"You know I can multitask."

A soft moan escapes me as his hand coasts higher.

But as confident as Drake may be feeling about being able to split his focus between me and the road, I know I need to steer his attention in a different direction, given that we only narrowly escaped having an accident just now.

"How... How will it work when we get back to court?"

"The same way as it did before," he replies, his hand reaching the lace of my panties. "You tell me how you want it and I’ll make it happen."

"No..." I gasp, as I feel a current of heat run through my core from his touch. "I mean from a... logistical point of view."

How can he get me so riled up with just a look and a touch...?

His hand stops and I heave a shuddering breath.

...because I now know what he’s thinking when he looks at me like that and what he can do with those fingers...

"Logistical point of view?" he asks with a raised brow.

"What I mean is, there is a massive sex scandal hanging over my head, so I'm guessing we can't just show up at the Palace to come and go from each other's room as we please. Because that's just going to get even more chins wagging."

Drake is pensive for a moment. "You could take Savs' old room."

I look at him in surprise. "Don't you want to keep it free in case she—?"

"She's been gone almost two years. And I haven't heard anything from her during that time. I doubt she's gonna show up now to demand her old room back."

"I know, but still..."

"It's fine. Honestly. And anyway, it makes sense. Her room's next to mine and there's a hidden door that connects the two rooms. That way we'll be able to keep up the appearance of propriety without needing to sneak around and risk getting caught. Also, it means that I am literally right next door if you need me... in case anything were to happen."

"Okay," I agree. "But what about... your availability?"

"What about it?"

"Well, technically you're part of Christian's security detail aren't you? And now that he's king, won't you be... busier? Looking out for him and everything?"

He flicks his gaze at me. "You sayin' you'll miss me when I'm working?"

I feel myself flush. "I don't mean to come across as clingy or anything... But truthfully, I have no clue what your routine is, what you do during an average day, and how I'm going to fit into that... If I'm going to fit into that..."

I feel him loop his fingers through mine. "To be honest, I have no idea either. This is totally new ground for me, so it's not something that I've ever had to think about before. I'm not gonna lie and say that it'll be easy — especially with the stupid scandal complicating things further — but I hope we'll be able to figure something out that will work. For both of us."

"I hope so, too," I say softly, giving his hand a squeeze.

We while away the next couple of hours talking and listening to music as the lush, green countryside zips past. Drake divulges a bit more about his daily routine — or rather, lack thereof, given that his schedule could vary wildly from one day to the next and change on short notice following instructions from Christian and/or Bastien — while I wonder what I will be doing now that the social season is over and I am technically a court pariah.

Suddenly, the car starts beeping.

"Just a fuel level warning," advises Drake. "We'll pull into the next service station to fill up."

A few miles later, a gas station hoves into view and we take the turn-off.

While Drake fills the car up, I use my very bad French to find out where the toilets are, only to discover — much to my dismay — that not only do I have to pay for the privilege of using them, but I don’t have the right type of money either.

I make my way back outside meekly. "You... umm... don't happen to have any French change, do you?"

Drake meets my eye and I feel myself flush.

I’m sure what I’m more embarrassed about... The fact that I’m asking him for money, or the fact that I need it to use the toilets.

Eugh! Why does this have to be so awkward?! Why can’t the French just let you pee for free like they do in the States?

I see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he reaches into his pocket. "You mean, Euros?"

"Whatever they're called..." I grumble in annoyance.

Drake chuckles as he drops some coins into my hand.

I beat a hasty retreat back inside, my cheeks flaming.

This is one culture shock that I had definitely NOT been expecting!

After a brief battle with the coin-operated turn-stile machine, I finally get inside the bathroom... Which, admittedly, I do find to be clean, well-maintained and relatively new-looking, in contrast to some bathrooms that I've been to back home that looked like the perfect place to commit a daytime murder in.

As I am washing my hands afterwards, I also realise that if Drake and I are going to effectively be living together when we get back to Cordonia, I will need to get over my prudish American hang-ups over bodily functions, because chances are that at some point in the not-too-distant future, we are going to walk in on each other while one of us is in the bathroom.

And while that is something that every couple has to learn to navigate, I guess I just hadn't been expecting to have to cross that particular bridge quite so early on in our relationship...

…but then nothing about this entire situation has been normal, even from the start.

"Good to go?" asks Drake as I step outside again.

"Yeah," I nod, tucking a wayward lock of hair behind my ear. "Here's the rest of your money back."

"Keep it," he replies, opening the car door. "You'll probably need it when we stop again."

"Right," I mumble, shoving the coins into my purse. "Do you... umm... want me to drive for a bit?"

Drake raises a brow at me.

"That is... if I'm allowed to,” I clarify quickly. “Not sure how insurance works here... But since you've been driving for almost five hours, I thought I'd give you a break."

He continues looking at me strangely, like he was calculating the percentage chance of his car getting wrecked with me behind the wheel.

After what seems like a full minute, I can't take it anymore.

"You know what?" I say, throwing my hands up as I make a beeline towards the passenger-side. "Never mind... You're obviously not comfortable with the idea so—"

"I never said that."

"I can see it on your face."

"Oh, yeah?” he counters. “And what do you see, exactly?"

"Surprise. Uncertainty. A tinge of fear," I tell him tersely. "You don't trust me with your car."

"That's not what I was thinking."

I glance at him uncertainly over the roof of the car. "What were you thinking, then?"

"That this is the first time a girl's offered to drive me anywhere."

"Oh." I feel my cheeks redden once more. "And... are you going to take her up on the offer?"

He surveys me again. "You got your driver's license on you?"

"In my purse."

I see the muscle in his jaw working. "Alright. You can drive to Avignon."

I quirk a brow as I make my way over to the driver's side. "That's an awfully specific waypoint. Why there?"

"Because that's where I was planning on stopping for lunch," he replies, striding over to the other side of the car. "It's roughly two hours from here."

I settle into the driver's seat and realise that I'm miles away from the steering wheel. I reach down and begin moving the seat forward.

"What?" I ask, seeing the bemused look on his face as I begin adjusting the mirrors.

"I don't think I've ever sat on this side of the car before."

"It's comfy. You'll like it," I reassure him with a grin as I check the set-up one more time before pulling the seatbelt over myself.

He rolls his eyes. "You all set?"

"I think so."

"Right. Couple of things to be aware of. Since this is the M version, the throttle's going to be much more responsive than you're probably used to. So, be gentle on the gas. Also, the wing mirrors are on the smaller side, so make sure you've got them set slightly wider than normal."

I glance at the mirrors before adjusting them out a bit more.

Drake then quickly runs through the other important controls, including the futuristic-looking steptronic gear shift, before leaning back and looking at me expectantly.

Taking a breath, I press the ignition button and the car rumbles to life. Shifting into first, I push the gas pedal down gently and ease the car forward.

As we pick up some speed, I shift into second, and then to third and fourth gear, finding it a bit strange that I don’t have to press a clutch, or struggle to find the gear, as I simply had to flick the shifter forward each time to gear up.

"Speed limit's 130 km/h," advises Drake as I reach the ramp to get back onto the highway.

Glancing down at the speedo, I see that that equates to roughly 80mph, which is the same as the interstate limit in Montana. Pressing the pedal down, I reach for the shifter again.

"Just keep your foot in it," says Drake.

"But shouldn't I—?"

"I'll tell you when."

I glance at him briefly, but I've learned by now not to second-guess Drake when he tells me something. Focusing back on the road, I watch the rev counter inch towards red.

"Now."

I flick the shifter forward as I merge the car onto the highway. After I watch the rev counter climb again, I shift into sixth.

"Not bad," approves Drake. "Though now that we're up to speed, you should shift to eighth."

"Eighth?" I ask in surprise.

"Car has eight gears. Might as well use them."

Glancing down at the shifter, I shift through the last two gears.

"How did you know when I needed to shift?"

"I've had this car over three years now. I know from the sound of the engine when to gear up. I very rarely look at the rev counter anymore."

"Alright, Mr Fast and Furious," I say with wry shake of my head. "Anything else I should know?"

"Don't undertake, keep the indicator on the whole time you're overtaking and be prepared to break hard if you're being overtaken. The French have a nasty habit of throwing their car in front of you without warning with only millimeters to spare. Like you saw before."

"So, they drive like New Yorkers,” I surmise wryly.

"Never driven in New York, so I wouldn't know."

"But you must've seen New Yorkers drive while you were there."

"Honestly, that was not something I really paid attention to. I was too busy herding the guys 'round the city, making sure they didn't get lost, pickpocketed or run over."

I laugh. "Yeah, I guess that is a bit of a full-time occupation, especially with Maxwell."

"You have no idea..." he grumbles wearily. "The number of times I had to yank him back from the edge of the curb because he was too busy taking photos..."

We continue to chat about this and that and rest of the drive down to Avignon goes by quickly. After we enter the city, Drake helps me navigate to a parking lot on the edge of the old town.

I step out of the car on shaky legs.

While the highway had been uneventful, once we entered the city limits, the traffic increased substantially with the other drivers switching lanes haphazardly, flashing their headlights and yelling out their windows at perceived offences. I was used to driving on the sedate backroads around Bozeman (as I had sold my car after moving to Nee York in order to be able to afford the deposit on my walk-up), so by the time we parked, my blood pressure was through the roof!

"You okay?" asks Drake as he locks the car.

"I will be in a minute," I reply, placing my hands on top of my head and taking a deep breath to calm my rapidly beating heart. But the overabundance of stress hormones coursing through my veins causes me to start pacing agitatedly.

Intercepting me on my second round, Drake pulls me into his chest. I drop my arms around his shoulders, and breathe in his familiar, comforting scent. After a moment or two, I feel my hammering heart start to slow.

"Better?" he asks, stroking my hair.

I heave a shuddering sigh as I relax into his arms. "Yeah."

"You coped with that better than I thought you would."

"Thanks," I murmur. "Though I now get why you arrived at the hotel looking like you did."

"Occupational hazard," he replies dryly. "Ready to grab some lunch?"

"More than ready!"

Looping his fingers through mine, Drake leads me towards the stone walls of the medieval old town.

"Have you been here before?" I ask as we pass under an impressive-looking portcullis.

"Once, a long time ago."

"Do you remember which way to go?"

He shrugs unconcernedly. "It's not a very big city. We'll figure it out. Plus, we have a few hours to kill before we need to hit the road again."

"You want to go exploring," I say with a knowing smile.

"If you're game," he replies with a confirmatory smirk. "Since we got cheated out of Paris, I thought this could work as a consolation prize."

"To be honest," I say, squeezing his hand, "I don't mind where we are. I just wanted to take advantage of some alone time with you before we return to the craziness of court."

"Even so," he murmurs, lifting our entwined hands up to his lips. "I want to make it up to you."

"Drake, you don't have to m—"

He silences me with a kiss that brooks no argument.

I pull away in shocked surprise. "Drake! You can't!"

He quirks a questioning brow. "Why not?"

"Because people might see!"

"And?" he scoffs, dropping his arm around my shoulders as he starts us walking again, my hand still entwined in his.

"I'm surprised you're being so cavalier about this."

After all, he had warned me constantly about the risk of us getting caught in a compromising situation during the social season.

"Chillax, Gale," he murmurs, dropping a kiss on top of my head. "Nobody knows we're here."

"Yeah, but we could be recognised."

"Trust me. We won't be. All the paps think you've gone back to the States. The last place they'll be looking for you is here. And even if someone does recognise you — which I very much doubt, given that the French have a hundred better things to do than obsess over what garbage the Cordonian rumour mill is spewing — they'll be expecting to see you with Tariq, not me. They won't put two and two together."

"Fine," I sigh. "But if we end up on the front page of the Cordonian Sun tomorrow, I'm never gonna let you hear the end of it."

"Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?

"No..." I admit.

"Good. Now. Where do you wanna eat?"

"Anywhere where there's food," I reply with a shrug. "You know I'm not particularly fussy."

"How 'bout here?"

Glancing up, I see a rustic little hole in the wall with a faded blue awning and a haphazardly set-up patio area. The creaky-looking wicker-chairs are occupied by a few locals smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. It’s as unpretentious as a restaurant can get.

"Perfect!"

*            *            *

After lunch, we stroll around the medieval old town, taking in the remains of the citadel, the iconic Ponte d'Avignon and more historic stone churches than I've ever seen clustered in once place. While I had initially been wary of being openly out and about with Drake — not to mention engaging in public displays of affection — as we meander through the narrow streets without getting mobbed by the paps, I feel myself start to relax into the experience.

"You always find the best food," I declare as I take a heartfelt lick of the decadent chocolate ice cream Drake had procured for me from a tiny little gelateria that I hadn't even spotted until we were standing right in front of it.

Drake shrugs as he samples his own scoop of vanilla and chocolate chip, which I have learnt is called stracciatella in Europe. "It ain’t exactly rocket science. Eat where the locals eat, avoid the overpriced tourist traps."

"Yeah, but how do you know where to go? Especially if you've never been to a place before?"

"Part of it's gut instinct," he replies. "But part of it is knowing what to look for. Generally, a place is good if it has an unassuming exterior, menus in local language only, and the owner greets everyone like long-lost family members."

I flash him a sidelong glance. "Sounds like you've had some interesting encounters with restaurateurs."

He throws me a confirmatory smirk. "One time, when we were in Naples, I made the mistake of complimenting the owner of a small trattoria on the grub. Three hours and a bottle of grappa later, I was still sat there, trying to convince him that I really couldn't marry his niece."

My eyes widen. "You're joking!"

"One hundred percent true story."

"How did you manage to escape?"

"We reached a compromise whereby he offloaded a crate of homemade salami on me instead."

I chortle into my ice cream. "He couldn't bear to send you home emptyhanded, could he?"

"Nope. And I didn't really mind. It was some damn good salami."

"Maybe he was hoping you'd come back for more. Truest way to a man's heart is through his stomach, after all," I inform him sagely.

"I can think of a few other ways," he drawls, pulling me in for a lazy kiss. "Though... you do taste good with all that chocolate on you..."

I giggle against his lips. "Something on your mind, Walker?"

"You. Naked. Covered in gelato," he murmurs between ever-deepening kisses.

"Dream on, cowboy," I quip, nipping his bottom lip. "Ice cream's cold and sticky. You're not slathering me in that stuff."

He trails his tongue along my jawline. "You'd be neither by the time I'm done with you."

A moan escapes me as he captures my earlobe with his teeth while his free hand grips my ass, pressing me against him.

"Drake..." I gasp, feeling my body respond instantly to his growing desire.

"All I've been able to think about the whole damn day is tearing this dress off you," he growls against my neck.

"I thought you liked it," I reply breathlessly.

He lifts his eyes to mine. "Why d'you think I want to get you out of it?"

My mouth drops open. "Surely not in the middle of the street!"

He scoffs wryly as he drops a kiss on my nose. "No. Not even the French would tolerate something like that. And we need to get going anyway."

I lean into him, taking a deep breath to get my heart-rate back under control. "Do we have to go back? Can't we just disappear?"

"Trust me..." he murmurs, tucking my head under his chin, "I've seriously considered it. But you know we can't. We need to clear your name."

I sigh in acquiescence. "Yeah... I know... Would be nice, though."

"How 'bout this?" he says, entwining our hands again as we resume walking. "Once this stupid scandal's out of the way, I'll take you anywhere you wanna go. Just the two of us."

I feel my eyes light up. "Really?"

"Really, really."

A snort of mirth escapes me. "Did you just... quote Shrek at me?"

A smirk tugs at his mouth. "Maybe."

"You must really be serious then," I grin. "I didn't take you as the kind of guy who'd enjoy animated kids' movies."

"It was one of my favourite cartoons as a kid."

"Because it's funny?"

"Because it turns the classic fairytale formula on its head. The ogre gets the princess — not the prince. And she turns out to be an ogre as well. Made me feel like there was hope for us lowly commoners after all."

“To our unconventional happily-ever-after then!” I grin, clinking my waffle cone against his.

Polishing off our now very melted ice creams, we arrive onto a busy little street lined with shops. As we are weaving our way through the throng of locals and tourists, I give Drake's hand a tug.

He looks down at me questioningly.

"Could I run into one of the stores quickly? I'll be five, ten minutes max."

Drake glances at his watch. "Sure. Do you need me to come with you?"

"No, I'll be fine. I'm just after some yoga pants and maybe an exercise top. There's a place just there that sells them."

I hadn't thought to bring any sportswear with me from back home, but I want to grab something comfortable to wear for the upcoming self-defence training. And makes sense to do that here, instead of trying to sneak down to the capital without the paps noticing.

He nods in agreement. "I'll give you some Euros."

"No," I say quickly, catching his hand as he reaches towards his pocket. Looking up at him, I add, "Thank you, but you already paid for breakfast, and you wouldn't let me split the bill for lunch with you either. Plus, you drove all the way up to Paris to get me, and—"

"You saying I'm not allowed to treat the girl I love?"

I feel myself flush. "Well, if you really want to treat me, how about you get us some coffee and pastries to go? There was a bakery back there selling croissants that smelled amazing."

"Alright," he concedes, pulling me in for a quick kiss. "Meet back here in fifteen minutes."

"Sounds like a plan."

We part ways and I make my way into the sporting goods store I had espied. Stepping inside, I locate the women's section and quickly flick through the racks, picking up a pair of yoga pants, exercise shorts and a couple of sleeveless tops, as well a sports bra and a pair of sneakers. I end up spending a lot more than I initially planned, but at least I now had some activewear that should cover me for any and all eventualities.

When I step outside with my purchases, I find Drake already waiting for me with an iced coffee.

"They didn't have Frappuccinos, so I got you the next best thing," he says, handing me the takeaway cup.

"Thanks," I reply gratefully, reaching up to drop a kiss on his slightly scratchy cheek.

"Anytime,” he murmurs with a warm look. “Got everything you need?"

I nod, taking a long draw of the cold caffeine. I hadn't realised how thirsty I had gotten from walking around in the warm afternoon sunshine.

“Let’s get outta here, then.”

Drake leads us back to the car, where he opens the trunk for me, so I can stow my bag of shopping.

"Do you want me to drive some more?" I ask, shutting the trunk. "Seeing as the car's set up for me anyway at the moment?"

"I'm good," he replies, opening the driver's side door. "It's only about three hours to Ramsford from here."

We get in the car and after Drake quickly resets the seat and mirrors, we're pulling away.

"Thanks for the little side-trip," I say softly, reaching over to place my hand on his as it rested on the gear stick. "It was worth getting up at five in the morning for."

"Anytime," he replies, running his thumb over mine. "You know I'm never gonna say 'no' to an adventure with you."

I squeeze his hand. "Hopefully we can sneak away again at some point."

"I'm definitely planning on it."

The story continues in Chapter 5 - Sparks Fly

A/N: So... Before any gear-heads or BMW enthusiasts say anything, I know that all new BMWs technically have automatic transmission. And while you sometimes still have the option to put the car into a kind of manual drive, there is not actually much point in doing that b/c the technology that BMW puts into their steptronic gearbox is such that it actually shifts faster and more efficiently than even a professional can. But, I wrote the whole driving scene after the petrol station before I looked into how a modern BMW would drive and b/c I am the author, and this is a work of fiction, and I liked the way the scene played out, I decided not to change it (in my HC Drake has set up the car to be able to shift manually b/c that's how he likes to drive). So, it's staying the way it is!

Permatags (let me know if you want to be added!)

@twinkleallnight @lovingchoices14 @petiteboheme @aussiegurl1234 @queen-arabella-of-cordonia @tessa-liam @alyshak92 @secretaryunpaid @princessleac1 @walkerdrakewalker @fictionloveevie @angelasscribbles @drakewalkerisreal @nestledonthaveone @tinkie1973 @lunaseasblog @indiana-jr @twinkle-320 @choicesficwriterscreations @knaussal @differenttyphoonwerewolf @texaskitten30 @kingliam2019 @pinklipsandmasonjars @sillydg @spookycolorpeanut @peonierose @mrsnazariowritesagain

#harper gale #drake walker #drake x mc #less than noble intentions #the royal romance #trr fanfic #choices fic writers creations #Spotify

[imthepunchlord]

Hello! I just finished reading A Declaration of Love from your Always a Hero, No Matter the Miraculous (Adrienette centered) AO3 collection, and I was wondering how you think Marinette would fair with the canon Peacock Miraculous and Duusu as well as how Adrien would fair with the canon Fox Miraculous and Trixx starting from Origins, factoring in not only the powers but also the kwamis’ canon personalities as we’ve seen them (for Duusu, that includes how she acts when her Miraculous is fixed). Also, I want to take a minute and thank you for leaving those stories up even after canon has gone way downhill with the LS and everything else; it’s nice to go back to simpler times once in a while when we were all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at ML’s potential 😆😌

Admittedly, I did consider deleting those as I don't enjoy Adrienette anymore. But decided against it, knowing I do have readers that still enjoy them and it didn'tfeel right to act on the salt and dislike. I can't ever go back to rereading them, but others can.

Now canon wise, with an updated set up:

Adrien with Fox would be very similar to Alya but not as good. Being 85% charge in and react, think later, he wouldn't be a good Fox at all. Largely would need direction for elaborate illusions but anything on his own eould be basic and straightforward. Adrien and Trixx I see being similar to Adrien and Plagg, Trixx would feel for him and urge Adrien to be more independent, selfish, more free, and Adrien is all for Trixx's playfulness. Actually inspires Adrien to get into music more (which leads to him and Nino being closer). Only big issue is when Trixx tries to guide/teach Adrien something, it goes over Adrien’s head. Trixx likes to be vague, set it up for their humans to make them think on their own. Adrien does not do vague. Trixx would take advantage of this to mess with him a little and tease Adrien for not listening well or being too reckless.

Marinette would be a good Peafowl, though it's a given as a miraculous prodigy and this is another miraculous of creation. She's actually a lot better over all with this than the actual miraculous of creation. Thanks to it's canon power, she doesn't even need to stress to physically be at fights, she's able to make elaborate and complex enough beings that she can make a "Ladybug" to solve the issue on it's own. It's the biggest reason Fu released Peafowl, keeping the actual LB miraculous safe and hidden. Even if HM finds out he's not facing the actual LB and is able to destroy it, Marinette is able to make another with improvements. She's happier mentally, emotionally, and physically as it's a lot less pressure and she trusts her creations to do their tasks well. It also leaves HM in a stalemate that now isn't only in his hands, as Marinette now doesn't have much reason to physically go out as Bluebird.

Marinette and Duusu get along very well. Marinette works off Duusu's energy and positivity well. It's also a big plus that Duusu is very conscious and considerate to her humans, here to help in anyway she can if they're upset or struggling. Duusu also adores that Marinette will make her hats, food, and is getting pampered with so much love, she loves it.

Partnership wise, it's pretty nonexistent. Adrien COULD have a superficial crush on Bluebird as Sentibug would think highly of her creator and build her up in his imagination, or he may no have feelings on the mysterious Bluebird at all. Marinette over all is fond of Vuldonis, encountering him here and there from close calls, but also thinks he's a little too cocky. At the end of the day, he serves his purpose making chaos if Sentibug needs help, though Marinette does think a better Fox could have been picked.

Honestly though, if there's to be a 2nd go working off canon, I wouldn't have Adrien picked at all for either. Keep him a temp hero using Turtle at most. Marinette could use either, and I'd say gave Felix, Luka, or Nino as her partner. Equally, they could pull off either as well.

#ask Punchie #kwami swap #a declaration of love #fox!adrien #peafowl!marinette

[knchins]

Hunger - Todoroki S.

Summary: Todoroki Shouto doesn’t want to follow the footsteps of his father. On the brink of starvation, he hears the call of a witch who finds a way to fulfill both of their needs.

Pairing: Incubus!Shouto x Witch!Reader

Rating: E+

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Sm*t, v*ginal fingering, v*ginal s*x, oral s*x, c*nnilingus, choking, some mentions of (consensual) breeding, soft!dom Shouto, some begging ig, some mentions of sugar daddy/baby, Shouto is several centuries old and is of age, oh and some fluff

Notes: This was my very first request I think??? I got it months ago lol so idk if this person if even still following me RIP. But I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope they enjoy it wherever they are <3 I did deviate a little bit but not TOO much.Censored words is so I can show up in the gd tags.

 Dealing with demons had become sort of a pastime for her, the young witch living in the secluded wood out in the countryside. She greatly enjoyed the remoteness, though sometimes it did come to a great disadvantage. Travelers would come, asking for potions or spell-work, something to help them with their troubles in life. As a grey witch (one who practiced both white and black magic), she tended to be able to help just about anyone with anything. Of course there were a few lines she wouldn’t cross such as raising the dead or directly causing death. She did have some morals after all, albeit somewhat controversial ones.

 Whenever she needed an item that she simply had no access to, then she would call upon demons to aid her in her work. The first couple times she had been a little reluctant and she would be lying if she didn’t say she had a few close calls, but ultimately demons could be bartered with just as humans could. The lower leveled ones were rarely smart enough to outwit her or ask for something she just couldn’t give. So far, dealings were good and they only became better when she met him.

 On the fourth or fifth time she called out for help, this time she needed a rare desert root for a drying spell, she followed the same procedure as always. She lit her candles, drew a summoning sigil on the floor, and chanted the words that would bring her the closest demonic being that felt the urge to heed her call. She specifically did it in a way that powerful demons would not be attracted. In fact, she would much prefer to keep them away for they were much smarter and more conniving, and ultimately not worth the risk. This time though...this time someone with a little more juice than what she normally found herself bargaining with appeared before her.

 Todoroki Shouto was an incubus with the most prestigious lineage of any sex demon that resided in hell. His father was known by all demonic beings. He was number one in his class, The closest to king that anyone of them could truly be. He had also fathered more children than any other demon, enjoying ruining human women to the point that they could no longer be satisfied by mortal men. Shouto found it distasteful. The way Enji wold flux his hormones so that any woman within a few hundred feet would simply beg for him to fuck her, to breed her, to make her his. He had more half-siblings than he could count in addition to the three full-blooded ones. His mother had also been a high class demon with a pedigree, though her whereabouts were currently unknown.

 He was minding his own business, taking a nice walk through the woods in the mortal realm when he heard the call. There was a tugging sensation on his chest and a melodic voice ringing in his ears. It was not a call for someone like him. Someone capable of such true  power. Yet, something drew him in. Something about that voice had his interest piqued. He couldn’t resist answering her quickly, less some other demon came to her first.

 He appeared before her, hair split down the middle perfectly. One half red like his father’s, the other white as his mother’s. One dark grey eye and another a brilliant blue, his white button-down shirt loose fitting with a few top buttons undone to show off his chest. If he wanted to lure in the opposite sex then he could with ease, but Todorki Shouto had a secret. One that made him much less powerful than he could be.

 The witch was taken aback by the demon in front of her. He was certainly the most handsome she had ever seen, most lower level ones were not very pleasing to look at. It made them easier to deal with. Her curious eyes blinked as if to make sure he was really there. Immediately she could sense that something was off about him. Something wasn’t quite right, however she could not pinpoint what it was.

 Shouto regretted answering the call immediately. The witch he had been summoned by was possibly the most beautiful creature he’d ever set eyes on. She was pure beauty and grace, more stunning than anyone residing in hell or earth. In fact, part of him wondered if maybe she was an angel. However the various bottles of herbs and assorted animal parts quickly led him to believe that she was not divine. She was simply mortal and in need of help.

 “Oh an incubus.” She said, still looking very bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “What a surprise. I’m not sure if you can help me or not. You’re a little out of my league.” The last part seemed like a joke but Shouto wasn’t entirely sure.

 “Why did you call for me here?” He asked calmly, his face perfectly blank though his eyes were fixated on her.

 “I’m in need of something for a spell.” She said honestly, “Sometimes I call upon demons to help me gather items I cannot easily get.”

 “Is that not dangerous?” He asked, starting to look more intrigued than anything. “Do you not worry about your safety?”

 The witch let out a nervous laugh, “Well, lower levels ones aren’t much of a problem for me. You’re a bit more than I’m used to. I’m surprised you even heard it honestly.”

 Shouto knew immediately why he heard it. Because as it stood, his power level was that of some lower tier demon. He had only fed twice since coming of age. His hunger was almost maddening. It had been eating away at him for decades. But he would not be his father. He would not be a glutton for sex and breeding. He refused to follow in his very heavy footsteps.

 “I was simply within range.” He said, though she knew that him happening to be close by to her didn’t really mean much. The spell was designed to not be heard by anyone over a certain power level. Could an incubus really be below that? “What do you need?”

 “A root.” She replied, flipping through one of the many of her family’s grimoires. She found the page that had a drawn picture, name, and general description. “This one.”

 “You’re doing a drying spell.” He said out loud by mistake. He knew because he had had this particular spell cast on him many times throughout the years, though recently it seemed to be working less and less. It was to dry up sexual desire. It was one of the few things that helped him get by so long without feeding. Without it he would have been driven insane by lust many decades ago.

 The witch cocked her head at him curiously, “yes, I am. For a client. She’s tired of having children but her husband just won’t stay off of her. She’s hoping it’ll get him to stop.” She paused for a moment, “Can you get it?”

 “Yes.” he replied dumbly, as if it were totally obvious.

 “What is your price?” She asked then, realizing he didn’t catch the implied question.

 Shouto thought for a moment, it was about time to recast the spell judging by the lecherous thoughts that were starting to cross his mind. “Can you perform another one?”

 She looked perplexed for a moment before it dawned on her why he heard her incantation. He was starved. And he must have been for some time too. “I can but I think I can do something else for you that will be much more beneficial.”

 “And what is that?” Shouto asked, wondering if perhaps there was another spell or potion out there that was more powerful and thus would be more effective.

 “Just have sex with me.”

 That was how it started. Any time the young witch needed something, she’d do a more specific summoning spell, one that only Shouto could hear. And every time he’d come, no matter what he was doing, to aid her. She would often jokingly call him her demonic sugar daddy because he provided everything for her for the low low price of coitus.

 The first couple times had been a little awkward. Shouto’s abilities were almost dormant. He fumbled his way about her body which was quite embarrassing for a sex demon. However after a few practice rounds the two truly began to find what got the other off the most. And in half a dozen sessions Shouto was feeling power, but with power came hunger.

 When he appeared before her hearth one night, without an invitation, the woman nearly threw an old vase full of nightshade at him in terror. She only put it down when she realized it wasn’t just any random intruder, but her newfound lover. She hadn’t needed anything in quite some time now. Hadn’t called on him because business had been rather slow and the jobs she did get, she didn’t need anything from him. Perhaps it was a little cruel of her to not call on him regardless, but she honestly did not know how much his appetite had grown. How it began to consume him until all he could think about was her, naked and writhing beneath him as he pounded into her. He craved her and only her. It was not something that ever really happened to Incubi. After all they could have anyone they wanted. But he didn’t want anyone else. He only had eyes for her.

 “Shouto.” She breathed out, heart still racing as she set down the clay vase. “I wasn’t expecting you, did you need something?”

 His eyes were fiery as he stepped towards her and she could smell the faint scent of hell on him. She wondered if maybe he had another argument with his father. He had told her a little about his family life during post-sex cuddles. It wasn’t much but she knew he hated the demon that sired him. He always seemed to be wound extra tight after coming straight from hell, and that was usually the reason.

 “Go bend your ass over the bed.” He said, further unbuttoned the flowy shirt he typical wore. Her eyes grew wide, embarrassment heating her face as she took a small step away from him. It wasn’t really out of fear, just a simple reflex. He never really got demanding of her like this, maybe something was wrong.

 But the warmth pooling between her legs told her that despite the interruption, despite having not planned this whatsoever, hearing him order her to get into the bedroom had her flooding with desire, and he could smell it.

 Shouto didn’t really have to use his pheromones to seduce her. He was naturally attractive and had a body that looked as if it had been sculpted out of marble. No, he never used them before but he was definitely using them now and they had her weak in the knees as she trembled. She walked on shaky legs into her bedroom, keeping her thighs pressed together as she walked in an attempt to hide the wetness that was accumulating in her panties. It was pointless though. He could always tell.

 He left his shirt in the living room and kicked off his boots on his way to the bedroom. He lost his pants at the entryway, watching as she leaned over the side of the bed and resting on her forearms. Her eyes large and doe-like at the rush of adrenaline. Sex with with a sex demon was always an unforgettable experience. It was easy to see how people went mad over it. The way he made her feel, the orgasms he gave her, none of it compared to any other lover she had ever had. Perhaps that was one reason why she had been so willing to listen to him just now. She knew he’d make her feel good, and who didn’t like to feel good?

 Shouto padded over, dropping to his knees behind her as he pushed her skirt up over her ass so that the fabric could bunch at her waist. His nimble fingers hooked around the elastic of her panties and he slid them down with an odd amount of carefulness. He practically buried his nose into her sex, inhaling that sweet scent of arousal that had him feeling absolutely feral. His tongue came to prod at her clit, causing a small whimpering sound to come from her.

 He dragged his tongue over every inch of her pussy, savoring it fully until she was a quivering mess with shaking knees that threatened to make her fall down. “Let me breed you.” He said between kitten licks. “You can have anything in return.”

 They had been using protection until then. Sex demons were incredibly fertile and typically had no trouble creating offspring. But at the time when this started, Shouto didn’t want to sow his wild oats like his father had. This witch had him wanting to throw all of that to the wind. He just didn’t care. That drive to fuck without any sort of barrier was maddening.

 Anything from a demon was a very big price tag, and Shouto had never tried to deceive her. He had never been anything other than honest. And despite all her teachers to never trust a demon, she found herself trusting him. Every time their bodies intertwined she fell more and more in love, no matter how much she had tried to resist. She had thought some distance would have helped ease her feelings, but apparently it had been hard on both of them.

 “Y-yes,” She gasped out as he latched onto her clit to suck, “Ple-please, Shouto, fill me with your cum.” She was gripping the old quilt on her bed tightly to try and keep herself grounded, but the way he was eating her out, two lithe fingers now dipping into her dripping core made it impossible to even think straight. All she could think about was her simple need to have him inside of her.

 He didn’t stop working his fingers or tongue until she hit her first peak, moaning out for him in a way that had him nearly cumming prematurely. The strain in his underwear was painful now as he throbbed with need. After one long lick along her slit he stood up, grabbing onto the globes of her ass for pretend support.

 “Tell me what you want me to do, Little Witch.” He said as he pulled down his briefs and kicked them away as if they were the most offensive thing in the world to him. “You’re shaking like you want to say something. So say it.”

 “I need you,” She said, somehow sounding out of breath despite not having done anything besides orgasm. “Shouto, I need you so much.” He wrapped one hand around his cock, pumping in slowly as he watched her continue to tremble. “Please fuck me!”

 The amount of lust he was feeling for this one mortal woman was dizzying. No one had ever told him that one person could have this kind of effect on a demon. Neither his father nor his two older brothers. Was it that far fetched to think that something was happening to him that had never happened to them before? They all had a primal drive for sex but never towards one specific person. Shouto found that he desired no one else in any of the realms. He only wanted her.

 He pushed it without any hesitation, feeling her tense suddenly at his thickness stretching her out. He watched with fascination as he disappeared inside of her cunt, the warm, wet feeling enveloping him like summer rain. “Fuck,” He couldn’t stop himself from cursing and just how amazing it felt to be inside her. It was like taking that first breath of fresh air after being held underwater for an extended period of time. It was so damn freeing.

 The witch relaxed against the mattress, her eyes closed to focus on that beautiful feeling of him completing her with his cock. Shouto took hold of her hips to keep her upright and steady as he pulled out slowly before bottoming out all over again, her slick making for the best lubricant as he moved with ease.

 It started slow. Shouto wanted to revel in the heat. He wanted to drink in the feeling of her walls clamping down around him. The sound of her tiny whimpers when he pushed all the way in after pulling out. But this was much too slow for her, she couldn’t handle such a torturous rhythm. Shouto had eternity but his little mortal did not. Her time was limited and the thought of that made his heart suddenly ache.

 “F-Faster,” She dared to mumble to him, sometimes he’d punish her if she begged too much. If she didn’t let him enjoy himself properly. Today was not one of those days though. Today Shouto wanted to hear her cry for his cock.

 So he obliged, increasing his pace as his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips. His witch began to moan even louder as he hit that sweet spot again and again, making her dizzy with ecstasy. She never lasted long when it came to sex with Shouto, something he took great pride in. He loved nothing more than to give her multiple orgasms.

 But this view just wasn’t doing it for him. He pulled out abruptly, making her cry at the sudden emptiness. He flipped her over onto her back, ripping at her blouse so that it was torn wide open for him. Then he tugged down her bra to free her breasts before reinserting himself into her. He watched her face contort with pleasure, the glossy look in her eyes as he began to pound into her at a relentless pace. The hypnotizing way her tits bounced with every thrust, they were just so perfectly in sync with one another. It was the definition of beauty.

 Shouto brought a thumb to her clit, lightly pressing on it in a way that had her clamping down on him even more. It was as if she was trying to suck him in deeper, never wanting to be without him again. He grunted at this sensation, eyes burning with lust as her mouth made that perfect “o” formation with her eyes rolling back as her second orgasm overcame her.

 He never talked much during sex, choosing to be a silent observer. Every now and then he’d give a command or order, but that was about it. He had never been much one for dirty talk like his father or eldest brother. The witch was fine with this. He made it hard enough for her to think without adding the pressure of comprehending something as complex as language.

 Just when she thought he might be coming to his end, he increased his pace even more. She whined, still feeling incredibly sensitive from the first two orgasms. At least he had the decency to take his thumb from her aching clit. Instead he reached up and wrapped his hand around her bare throat, squeezing just enough to lessen the flow of oxygen and blood to her brain.

 She gasped for air, her moans less audible now as air came out in strangled puffs. He would loosen just enough to give her a small break before tightening back up again. She grabbed at his wrist, and he waited for her sign that it was too much. A double tap anywhere on his body with her pointer and middle finger, or their safe word if she could manage it was all he needed to tell him that he’d gone too far. But neither came and so he continued to abuse her pussy with a pace so fast no human could possibly keep up, and only when she was screaming his name a third time did he finally release himself.

 Shouto came inside her for the very first time. Normally he pulled out even with a condom on. He really wanted to take no risk. This time, this time he had to claim her as his somehow. If any other demon were to come to her then then they’d smell him all over her. They’d think twice before crossing a Todoroki, that was just how well known his family was.

 He removed his hand from her neck, before leaning down to kiss it softly. His nose nuzzled the underside of her jaw in a way that might have appeared to be loving if either of them knew what that word really meant. Her heavy breathing slowly calmed down, delicate fingers squeezing his biceps with care. A simple sign to tell him that she was alright and that he did good. She had found that sometimes he needed encouragement. Sometimes he wasn’t as confident as he pretended to be. But small reassurances were really all he needed to bounce back to normal.

 “Can you stay the night?” She mumbled. Any time she asked, any time she was feeling particularly weak for him, he would turn her down. Saying he had other things to do. Saying it just wouldn’t be proper. Making any excuse he could.

 This time Shouto did not move from on top of her. His mound clouded with the afterglow of such an intense orgasm. He knew then that he’d do anything for her. Anything at all. And because of that realization he hummed back a simple affirmative. He’d stay as long as she would have him.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #bnha #mha #bnha imagine #bnha x reader #todoroki shouto imagine #bnha requests

[pennylaneforthoughts]

Lokius Hogwarts AU

All right my dudes, hot take time:

I’ve seen a lot of Hogwarts AU headcanons floating around, and having thought waaaaaay too much about it, I’m here to add my two cents.

( @sortinghatchats has my favorite sorting system I’ve seen to date, since it goes so much in depth into themes throughout the HP series that good ol’ JK barely touches on in her pretty surface level commentary on the subject, so that’s the system I’m gonna use. Go to their blog to learn more about the way the system works bc I’m too lazy to go more in depth than I already have.)

This is gonna be Hella Long tho so I’m putting it under a cut.

Loki: Petrified Slytherin Primary/Slytherin Secondary - sorting: Slytherin House

Perhaps it may seem trite, but Loki really is a Slytherin Primary at heart. Yes he is ambitious and all that stereotypical stuff, but that’s not really what makes a Slytherin a Slytherin. Anyone can be ambitious. No, he’s a Slytherin because he unapologetically prioritizes himself and the people he cares about above all else. 

“Slytherin Primaries are fiercely loyal to the people they care for most. Slytherin is the place where “you’ll make your real friends”– they prioritize individual loyalties and find their moral core in protecting and caring for the people they are closest to. Slytherin’s reputation for ambition comes from the visibility of this promotion of the self and their important people– ambition is something you can find in all four Houses; Slytherin’s is just the one that looks most obviously selfish.”

However, Loki’s trauma has pushed him to something this system calls Petrifying.

“Whether through death, betrayal, abandonment (from either side), or through never having had any to begin with, the Petrified Slytherin has decided that having important people is too dangerous. Having those strong ties leaves you open to pain and weakness, and the pleasure of those connections aren’t worth the despair that comes from their seemingly inevitable loss. In this way, they close themselves off to meaningful connections out of what is ultimately fear (though from the inside, it’s far more likely to be experienced as a rational, sensible decision given the circumstances of the world), and gives them a stony exterior that seems impenetrable, resolute, and cold.” 

Loki wants love and acceptance so badly, but he is convinced that the kind of attachments and relationships that that comes from are far too dangerous and the risk isn’t worth the reward. He pushes people away, hides behind a mask of self-aggrandizement, and betrays others before they can betray him in an attempt to protect himself from potential pain.

In the series, however, we see him slowly unpetrify and move towards a more healthy style of attachment because of Mobius and Sylvie’s influence on him. Whereas his circle of priorities used to include only himself (and arguably Frigga and later, Thor, in the movie timeline), he proverbially “thaws” enough to let Mobius and Sylvie in, and tragically, because of that, the loss of them hurts him so deeply because by the end of season 1, they’re all he had.

His Slytherin Secondary, however, is obvious in his methodology. He’s the god of chaos. He loves improvisation, and plans only exist as long as another better idea doesn’t come along and usurp it. He’ll change and adapt (quite literally) to best fit the situation in front of him, and he takes joy in that. But beneath all the running and his many personas, he has his “neutral state” that he lets only a precious few see. Mobius gets to see it, and so does Sylvie, and as he progresses through the series, he starts to be more comfortable existing in that state where he’s no longer hiding behind everything he feels like the world expects him to be and he can just be himself. 

Mobius: Slytherin Primary (Hufflepuff Model)/Hufflepuff Secondary - sorting: Slytherin House

People like to put Mobius in Hufflepuff, but honestly? I don’t think that’s where he’d be most comfortable. Yes, he is kind and caring to basically everyone, and we see this over and over again in the series. The man radiates comfort. However, like it says in Inky and Kat’s description of the Slytherin Primary, 

“Wanting to help someone doesn’t mean you’re loyal to them. Wanting to help them at the expense of your comforts, your values, your commitments and sometimes even yourself–that does.”

Mobius is kind to a fault. But he is not kind at the expense of himself. Not to everyone at least. He is kind to the child in France, but he is not kind to the point of saving him from the resetting of the timeline, and he doesn’t feel guilty about that. He believes in a duty of care, but he does not believe he has any obligation to go beyond what he thinks that duty of care is. He unapologetically plays favorites, and this is mentioned on multiple occasions. Above all else, Mobius values loyalty as a virtue. Sure, he cares about the TVA and its accompanying morality, and he genuinely does believe it’s his duty to care about and be kind to others. He seems to vibe quite well with the Hufflepuff ideal of caring about people simply because they are people, but this is all secondary to his personal loyalties when push comes to shove. For Mobius,

“dropping that model in order to stand by someone you love, or in order to protect yourself, doesn’t feel like a failing. Sticking to that modelled morality at the expense of betraying or abandoning one of their own would make a Slytherin feel guilty and wrong. Being able to put the things and concepts you like aside for the sake of the people who need you feels more righteous than any moral posturing.”

It’s for this very reason that Mobius gets so angry and feels so betrayed when he thinks Loki has abandoned him for Sylvie, and when Ravonna lies to him and prunes him.

“Betraying your own is the worst kind of crime. Loyalty is precious and terrible; it makes you vulnerable. It’s given sparingly, deeply, and a Slytherin will stand by their loyalties through the same death and fire that a Gryffindor would brave for the sake of doing the right thing, or a Hufflepuff to help someone in need.”

Loki is Mobius’ own. Mobius prioritizes Loki over almost everything else, sticks his neck out for him over and over again, and is willing to sacrifice his own happiness for him. He’s even willing to abandon the whole of his former ideology and prior friendships for this relationship that has become closer to him than his own self, the highest tier of trust and loyalty a Slytherin can give.

“It’s an extreme Slytherin who would let the whole world burn for the sake of a friend, but every Slytherin Primary would be at the very least tempted.”

And Mobius very nearly does exactly that. Even says the words, “burn it to the ground” when Loki asks him what he’s going to do. And he doesn’t feel bad about it. Especially after realizing what the TVA has done to him and the people he cares about. He kicks the TVA out of his circle of care, and doesn’t look back. And he does it for Loki.

Mobius’ Secondary is where people get his Hufflepuff vibes from, I think. A Hufflepuff secondary is marked by “their consistency and the integrity of their method. They’re our hard workers. They build habits and systems for themselves and accomplish things by keeping at them. They have a steadiness that can make them the lynchpin (though not usually the leader) of a community.” And that is what Mobius is. It’s why he radiates that kindness and comfort. He quietly and carefully works at and invests in the relationships in his life to the point that people almost automatically trust him, and over time he has learned how to read people and figure out what makes them tick. 

He approaches new situations with a steady head and gentle hand that Loki is unused to, and it’s this approach that eases Loki into learning how to trust and rely on people. It’s an inherently Hufflepuff approach, and it’s the key to his success as an analyst for the TVA and an understanding friend for Lokis across the timelines.

Tl;dr - Application to an actual Hogwarts AU fic:

THEREFORE! There’s a compelling narrative to be had with a tiny, first-year Loki coming into Hogwarts. He comes from a pureblood family that’s very proud of their Gryffindor heritage (they don’t talk about Hela, and Loki and Thor don’t even know she exists until later in this story), and his brother had been sorted into Gryffindor a couple years prior, and Loki has heard very little other than contempt for Slytherin House and everyone in it. Loki doesn’t want to be sorted into Slytherin. He doesn’t want to deal with the disappointment and shame from his father and the sad eyes of his brother. But the sorting hat sorts him there almost immediately, and his heart sinks. He wanders over to the table miserably but determined. If he’s gonna be sorted into the “evil” house, might as well just run with it, right? Best not to get close to people though. It’s Slytherin. Who knows when someone will betray you.

Enter Mobius, the tiny muggleborn, bright eyed, bushy tailed, and having no clue about the prejudices between houses. The hat takes a hot minute sorting him, giving him the choice between Hufflepuff and Slytherin and telling him Hufflepuff would love a kindhearted and welcoming member like him. But Mobius has been eyeing the little black-haired kid who got sorted before him and is now sitting far apart from everyone, and he can’t help but feel like he needs to be this kid’s friend. And didn’t the hat just say Slytherin is where you’ll make your real friends? Friends are what Mobius cares about, so he’d like to go to Slytherin, thank you very much, so that’s where he goes, and he happily plunks himself down right next to Loki and sticks his hand out.

“I’m Mobius. What’s your name?”

 Loki looks at Mobius’ hand disdainfully and doesn’t shake it, but he does answer, “Loki.”

Mobius’ eyes go wide, and he smiles. “Loki? Like after the Norse god?”

Loki nods, eyeing Mobius suspiciously. People don’t often bat an eye at his name. Not in the wizarding world, anyway.

“Wow, that’s so cool! I loved reading about Norse mythology in school and Loki was always my favorite. Names have power, you know. If you’ve got the same name, then you must be just as awesome.”

Loki has no idea what to do with this kid, but he’s immediately aware of two things:

He’s absolutely sure that this Mobius kid is in the wrong house. No way a Slytherin can be this excited without a single hint of deception in his face.

He’s going to be eaten alive by the other students if Loki doesn’t protect him. What a pain.

Loki is completely wrong on both of these points.

#lokius #loki x mobius #wowki #loki #mobius #loki 2021 #look i've thought WAY too hard about this and i just need a slytherin mobius who subverts everyone's expectations about what a slytherin is #while still being 100% obviously a slytherin when you think about it

[floralguccistyles]

prologue: soupe à l’oignon

Michel’s soupe a l’oignon was burning.

Michel had also been through a terrible breakup the night before in which he had found his boyfriend of almost seven years in bed with their personal trainer. Then Michel’s boyfriend had announced that he and this personal trainer were actually married, per a terrible ceremony in Las Vegas when they were both drunk. Therefore, Michel was technically the other man. Michel had never been the other man before. He was obviously having a rough time.

But the fucking soup was burning.

“Michel! The soup!” Italia shouted before the scent could officially assault all of my senses. The second the words left her mouth, however, I could smell it. The onions were burning to a crisp. There would be no saving them, of this I knew. 

“Shit!” Michel yelled, immediately turning off the heat of the stove. He went to go grab the saucepan and the hurried “no!” didn’t leave my mouth fast enough as he gripped the cast iron handle with his bare hand for approximately three seconds before he yelped and dropped it back down on the stove top with a slamming sound. “Shit, shit shit!” he repeated, clutching his wrist with his other hand. 

“Let me see,” I demanded, moving away from my own meal (which would be fine and not on the verge of burning for at least another five minutes) and towards Michel. He held out his hand to me with tears in his eyes and I honestly felt bad for the guy. 

I just also felt really, really bad for the customer who was waiting for their soup.

“Go run it under cool water. Cool, Michel, not cold. Ice-cold will damage the tissue even more. Then get a rag wet and hold it over. You can just go ahead and take your fifteen.”

“My soup—”

“Italia and I will handle it,” I interrupted. The more time we wasted standing here arguing was time that could have been spent trying to salvage the soup. It didn’t help that we were already down a chef, since Frederick’s wife was giving birth, but we would make do. Italia and I always did.

“Thanks, Dom. I’ll be in the lounge.”

Lounge was a loose term. It was a tiny little room in the back that looked dingy and unkempt. Still, it was enough to pass health inspections. Only about two people could fit back there at a time, which was why I usually just sat in my car for my breaks.

“Sounds good, Michel.” My eyes locked with Italia, who was already working on melting the butter and oil for Michel’s soup in a new saucepan. Isobel, one of our dishwashers, had already grabbed the pan Michel had ruined and was scrubbing it clean with her thick rubber gloves on her hands. At least I knew she wasn’t going to be burned. 

When Michel turned to go into the lounge, I grabbed an onion and automatically began chopping it. “Sorry, Italia,” I muttered under my breath, knowing she could hear me just fine. We had gotten used to the hustle and bustle of the kitchen.

“It’s fine. Tell Louis to offer them a dessert on the house because this soup is going to take at least another fifteen.”

I wanted to slam my head against the counter. Or better yet, use the pan Isobel was now putting on the drying rack to hit over my head. “Fuck. Alright.” 

Finding Louis was easy enough. He was making his rounds in the front of the restaurant, his pleasant attitude most likely earning him more than average tips. The kind of people who came to Lesauvage were wealthy enough to tip generously. Sometimes they didn’t, but for the most part, Louis wouldn’t be starving anytime soon. “Louis!” I hissed under my breath when he passed by the kitchen doors, cups in hands to refill. He jumped comically.

“Christ, Dom, you scared me,” he replied in a quiet voice, not wanting any of the customers to hear. “What?”

“Tell table eleven there was a complication with their soup and dessert is on the house.”

“What the fuck happened to their soup?”

I raised a brow. “Michel made it.”

Michel’s boyfriend drama had already made it around the restaurant. Twice. Chefs were a nosy bunch. Louis nodded in understanding and filled up a cup with iced tea as he looked towards where I assumed table eleven was. I actually hadn’t ever really paid attention to the front setup of Lesauvage because I had always entered through the back door.

“Fine. But I’m recommending the chocolate mousse because you’re here and you make it the best.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere,” I replied with a wink.

He grinned. “Got me into your bed, didn’t it?”

Louis and I had a fling when I had started working at Lesauvage. I was fresh out of culinary school, bright eyed and bushy tailed, and he was the experienced waiter who comforted me in the lounge my first day when my boss had completely ripped me a new one. He was the unattainable, three-years-older coworker who I was moon-eyed over for at least five months before we actually slept together. And once we had, it was like some switch had been flipped inside my body and he was suddenly nothing but a friend.

Thank the fucking lord he felt the same way.

“You’re damn right it did. Now go make me proud, Tomlinson.”

When I hastily returned to the kitchen, Italia was already ten times ahead where Michel had been with the soup. I sent her a thankful look and grabbed the beef stock, passing it her way as I grabbed a knife and began chopping the green onions for my own dish. 

As much as I complained about the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, I secretly thrived in it. It was what I had missed when I had been in culinary school. So many of my classmates cooked their meals silently. When I cooked at home, I blasted music and sang loudly and off-key to myself. At work, I had the conversation of other people. I liked learning about Italia’s kids and Isobel’s ex-boyfriend who kept trying to call her. I even liked Michel, even though right now he wasn’t my favorite person in the world. 

School had been lonely. At least here I felt like I belonged.

“They’re good for the chocolate mousse!” Louis shouted over the sound of Isobel doing the dishes and Italia chopping more vegetables. 

“You’re a saint, Tomlinson!” I replied, dropping the spices needed onto Italia’s cutting board. She slid them into the soup with her knife and the skill of a seasoned Lesauvage veteran. 

The chocolate mousse was luckily already in the fridge cooling from my prep this morning, so I didn’t have to worry about making it at that exact moment. I did finish the salad I was working on and passed it off to Sydney, who was another runner. She grabbed the plate and sped off to table seven. 

The time went by quickly when I was in the kitchen. My thoughts could roam  because the movements of cooking were muscle memory at this point. When I had first been hired, I had been terrified to mess anything up. The first time I had pulled a Michel, I had cried. My boss had yelled at me pretty badly, but had brought me into his office afterwards to apologize and assure me that I was doing a great job. Now, it felt like second nature to pour the green onions into the butter garlic sauce that was sautéing. And when Italia handed me the soup that she had completed, I sent her a grateful look and wasted no time in handing it off to Louis. We worked as a team here.

I thrived on that.

“Get those chocolate mousses out and ready,” I told Michel when he came back from his break. His hand didn’t look too worse for wear, but he looked decently embarrassed. I knew, at least for tonight, there would be no more mistakes. 

“I’m really sorry, Dom,” he said softly, preparing for my anger.

“It’s fine, Michel. Just work on desserts for now, okay? But this is the comp dessert for table eleven, so try to pay attention, yeah?”

He hung his head, but nodded and went to go prep the mousse. It wasn’t that Michel wasn’t talented. He wouldn’t have been hired if he hadn’t been a great chef. But the boyfriend thing was really getting to him. I hoped he had at least the next two days off to recoup.

“Dom,” I heard Louis say about thirty minutes later as he walked through the kitchen door. He had the empty plates from table eleven in his hand and handed them off to Isobel. “They’re ready for the dessert.” He eyed me questionably when Michel handed them off to me, as if it was wrong that I had let Michel touch them after his little mishap but I had faith in the chefs. “These better be good,” Louis said in a warning tone.

“I made them, Tomlinson, of course they’re good,” I snapped, clicking my tongue in annoyance. It was a bad habit I had done when I was a kid and never seemed to shake it. 

He shrugged, taking the completed desserts and walking back out to the restaurant. “They looked great, Michel!” I encouraged, turning to continue chopping the beef I had been working on before Louis had come in. 

When I cooked, time passed by without my notice. What felt like two minutes later but was really thirty, Louis walked back into the kitchen with a solemn look on his face. “They want to see the chef.”

“Who?”

“Table eleven.”

Shit. “You said they were fine with the soup, yeah?” Louis nodded, which meant the problem was with the chocolate mousse. And since Michel had done nothing but added the whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top, if they had a real problem with the mousse, it was on me. “Fuck. Alright. Italia, can you finish this dish for me really quick?”

Italia nodded, looking up from the celery she was chopping to examine the chicken I was seasoning to see how much she would need to do to complete it. Nervously wiping my hands on my apron after I washed them quickly, I tried to make myself look a little more presentable. It was rare that chefs were invited to the front of the restaurant, so we were usually unkempt and had food on our clothes. It didn’t matter to me what I looked like as long as the food was good, but I knew it was a shock to the high-end patrons of the restaurant.

Louis led me over to table eleven, where three people were sitting. There were two men and one gorgeous woman that looked like she could model for a living. She was happily chatting and holding hands with one of the men, excitedly waving around her free hand. He looked engrossed in her story, nodding and smiling and staring at her like she was the best thing in the world. Their companion was simply taking sips of his wine (a wonderful red that went really well with the chocolate mousse and I thanked Louis for obviously recommending it to them) and pursing his lips in response to whatever the woman was saying.

She stopped talking when she noticed Louis and sent a blinding smile at us. “This is the chef, I presume?”

“Dominique Blanchard,” I said, holding out my hand for her to shake. I was thankful I had run my hands under some soap and water. We weren’t allowed to have our nails painted in case some of the varnish fell off into the food, but her fingers were perfectly manicured and painted a vibrant blue. “I’m sorry again about the soup. We had an incident in the kitchen.”

She waved it off. “The soup was fine. That chocolate mousse, however? It was to die for!”

I felt my shoulders deflate. I had been so worried that they were upset with their experience or food that I hadn’t even thought they had wanted to chat because they enjoyed their meal. “Thank you. It’s a Lesauvage specialty.”

“Dominique makes it the best,” Louis supplied helpfully from behind me. I grinned nervously.

“We all loved it,” the man holding her hand spoke, and I was surprised to hear an Irish accent. “It was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” And I was glad it took the attention off the fact that their soup was late. The other man stayed quiet, simply ignoring the conversation as he sipped at his wine again. 

“I have the weirdest proposition for you. Please feel free to say no if you don’t want to, but I would kick myself if I didn’t ask.”

My eyes strayed back to the woman, who was talking to me politely. 

“I’m two months pregnant,” she said happily, her hand going to her stomach like most pregnant women did when their pregnancy was announced, “and I’m so incredibly exhausted nowadays. I can barely muster up enough energy to come out to dinner, let alone make myself toast in the morning. And your chocolate mousse was the only thing I’ve been able to keep down for more than thirty minutes. I was wondering if you’d ever consider being a personal chef?”

Chefs at Lesauvage being asked to become personal chefs for celebrities or rich individuals wasn’t as uncommon as one would think. The chef I had replaced had left to become a personal chef for some actress who split her time between London and Los Angeles. As far as I knew, he simply travelled with her. But it was the first time the suggestion had ever been brought up to me, the first time that someone had liked my food that much.

Which was why my mouth comically fell open.

“I could pay you plenty!” she said, which led me to believe she was well-off. Well, that and the fact that she was eating at Lesauvage, which wasn’t exactly known for their cheap meal choices. “I just...I’m so tired all the time. The doctor said it was normal, but I don’t even want to get up out of bed sometimes. And I’m only two months along! I can’t imagine trying to cook myself meals when I’m eight months. You’d cook some things for Niall and Harry too, of course.” She gestured to the two males sitting with her. 

“This is...I’m sorry, this is just incredibly unexpected,” I managed to stutter out.

“Of course, I’m so sorry I’m just flinging this on you. How about I give you my number and I’ll get back to you in about a week or so? Will that give you enough time to think it over?”

“Yes, of course.” Taking her number wouldn’t hurt, I told myself. She had a little card in her wallet with her information on it, and I saw that she actually was a model. 

“I’ll be in touch soon. Thank you so much, Dominique. I’ll probably be dreaming about that chocolate mousse for the next six months.”

I was able to laugh at her joke even though it still felt like someone had shaken me into a concussion. I exchanged goodbyes with the three of them as they left the restaurant, leaving a more than generous tip for Louis. 

“Well that was nice of them,” Louis said, clapping me on my shoulder. “Think about it, yeah? It’s not the worst idea in the world.”

It wasn’t. But I couldn’t think about the proposition until my shift was done tonight.

~

Welcome to the world of Mise en Place! I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter and are as excited to read this fic as I am to share it!

#1dff #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #mep

[apocalypseornaw]

Always be Yours- 17

Word Count: 5,481

Story Summary: follows Dean and the reader through season 9 into season 10

Chapter Summary: Cas calls for help on a case. Dean starts showing more effects from the mark and not just his unwillingness to be away from the first blade.

Warnings: cursing, fighting,death

Back to back hunts had never been a favorite thing for you. Yeah you liked staying busy and when things needed to be killed you were the first to pull your boots on and say let’s hit the road but dammit you’d just gotten back to the bunker not even two hours before Dean was leaning across the bed shaking you gently “Sweetheart, wake up” you flinched awake already in a protective stance before your brain caught up with your surroundings. You glared up at him “Dean I love you but why the hell aren’t you asleep? We got in like two hours ago” he shrugged “Not tired besides we got work unless you want to sit a case out?” you yawned as you were climbing out the bed and pulling your boots onto your feet “Not a chance, besides I can catch a cat nap on the way to wherever we’re headed” He shot you a wink “That’s my girl” then turned to walk out the room. You called behind him “Where are you going?” “To wake Sammy up!” he replied, never breaking stride.

 You met up with Sam in the kitchen. He handed you a cup of coffee so you both went in search of Dean who had somehow gotten your gun out of your go bag without you noticing and was giving a once over to it and another bag of weapons as you and Sam walked into the library.

“Ok baby, we are bright eyed and bushy tailed. What’s up?” He glanced up from the bag in front of him “I called Cas. He said there’s something going down in Missouri” “What kind of something?” Sam asked and Dean shrugged “Said he couldn’t talk about it over the phone” “Why?” you questioned offering the cup of coffee to Dean who took a swig then handed it back “Because he is a weird guy ok? He’s a weird, dorky little guy” “With an army of angels behind him” you reminded sitting down on the table next to Sam. Dean nodded “And even though I hate to say it, if we’re gonna take a shot at Metatron, those angels might be useful”

You noticed Dean wrapping the first blade up and silently bumped Sam’s hand. He followed your line of vision and gave voice to the question in your head “Do you think we’ll need the first blade? Why don’t we just leave it here?” Dean’s eyes flicked towards you before he said “We talked about this and we decided..” you cut in before either of them could say anything else “No in all fairness there was no we..not you and Sam we..not me and you we..You decided”

Sam touched your hand gently and you let out a breath finishing the coffee and sitting the cup down harder than you should’ve when Dean reasoned “I Decided that a hockey stick that can kill anything might come in handy, so both of you sue me” “How many times have we been around this block?” Sam asked and Dean gave him a questioning look so you spoke up again “Magic that powerful comes at a price and we have no idea what that price may be”

Dean softened just slightly at the worry in your voice “I’m fine Y/N. I’m fan-friggin-tastic” “And we’re glad, honestly. I’m not saying to bury the thing, just save it until we really need it” you nodded in agreement with Sam and added “We only need it for the big boss fights. It’s not needed all the time is it?”

“Just leave it, please” Sam pleaded so Dean met your eyes as he laid the wrapped blade down on the table “No problem, see?” “Thank you” Sam told him so he nodded and held your gun out to you “Let’s get going”

------

Halfway to the scene Dean pulled over at a truck stop for all of you to change into your fed suits. When he pulled to a stop at the scene he glanced back at you “You good sweetheart?” you leaned across the seat and left a quick kiss on his cheek “I’m good”

You followed him and Sam across the parking lot to the deputy that was standing just outside the yellow police tape. She glanced up the moment she saw the three of you “Agents Spears, Aguilera and Carter? FBI?” “That’s us” you replied and she nodded “Your partner said you’d be along” then held the tape up. You thanked her and walked under first leaving the boys to follow you.

You spotted Cas the moment you stepped into the diner and he nodded. “Thank you for coming” Sam glanced around before asking “Agents Spears and Aguilera?” you bit back a smile considering you’d at least gotten the moniker of Carter. Cas shrugged “I’ve noticed your alias are usually the names of popular musicians” “You did good Cas” you assured him and he nodded back towards the scene “Come here. Take a look at this”

The body on the stretcher was clearly an angel kill. Cas explained that all the bodies were the same burnt out husks. “So this is what? A mass smiting?” you guessed and Cas shook his head “I don’t know what this was. I’ve never seen anything like it” that definitely didn’t help your feelings that you’d come across something to do with angels that was leaving Cas clueless? 

He stepped away from the stretcher so the three of you followed him “Six humans died here..” he squatted down and pulled the sheet away from a body on the floor “And one angel” you leaned over to look as Sam asked if the dead angel was one of Cas’. Cas confirmed that the angel was in fact one of his. “I knew he wanted a war but this is abhorrent, even for him” you knew the he in question was Metatron but considering he’d done everything from kicking the angels out of heaven to making Gadreel into his own personal murder weapon you wouldn’t put anything past the little weasel. “Well I know with a squadron of angels three hunters may not seem like much but however we can help you, we will” you offered and he half smiled “Thank you Y/N and the three of you? That is plenty”

------

You followed behind the guys into Cas’ command center. A brunette angel smiled when she saw Cas “Commander” “Yeah still creepy” Dean muttered so you nudged his arm with a shake of your head. Cas stopped in front of her “Dean, Y/N, Sam this is Hannah” she smiled “The Winchesters, I’ve heard so much about you. You as well Y/N” “Coming from Cas, I’m guessing it was good?” you asked with a smile. 

Another angel took the box of evidence from the crime scene and walked away. Before you could question where he was headed Hannah told Cas that Josiah missed roll call that morning. “Roll call?” you asked and Cas sighed “They like to hear me say their names” “Yeah can’t blame em you do have an amazing voice” you responded with a grin that earned you a sideways look from Dean. Hannah spoke again getting all of your attention back on her “No one’s seen Josiah since Ezra was murdered..we think” Sam cut her off by questioning “You think Josiah was the killer and is the mole?”

She nodded “Well, who else” she turned back to Cas to add “We searched the ground but he’s vanished” “Not without wings. He’s an angel but he’s still got to travel like a human” Dean said and Hannah crossed her arms over her chest watching Dean with an attitude that simply rubbed you wrong so you cut him off “Which means he had to walk, drive, leave some sort of a trail”

Sam was already setting his laptop up “All right, what was his vessel’s name?” “Sean Flynn from Omaha” it didn’t take long for Sam to find out someone had just used the vessel’s credit card at a gas-n-sip in Colorado” Dean smiled at Hannah “And that’s how we do things in the pros” 

The angel who took the box of evidence called out “Commander?” and when Cas looked at him he motioned back to his computer screen “I have something”

------

You stood next to Cas while the angel played the clip off a cellphone. It showed the angel from Cas’ ranks saying he was doing this for Cas then sat off the equivalent of an angelic suicide bomb which resulted in the carnage all of you had seen earlier.

Dean pointed at the screen “What the hell was that?” Cas was clearly distraught  “I don’t know..I didn’t..I would never ask an angel to sacrifice himself to kill innocents..I’m gonna be sick” you instinctively reached a hand out to gently rub his arm “Cas why would he do it?” you asked softly. Hannah held up a finger “Hold on..” then told the other angel to roll the tape back.

Turns out there was another angel in that shop, one of Metatron’s and that was who the angel from Cas’ rank was apparently after. “So this was some kind of hit?” Sam questioned and Cas shrugged “I don’t know” “Stop saying you don’t know” Dean fumed and that made you look at him in question “You can’t think Cas is ok with something like this” He looked from you to Cas “He tries to be a good guy. He tries. But this? This is a frickin cult” “Dean” you spoke harder than before but he shook his head “Last time you had this kind of juice Cas you did kill angels and humans and you did nothing but lie to all of us the whole damn time!”

You’d moved to stand next to Sam and was noticing the looks being passed between Hannah and the other angel. Looks, you didn’t like being pointed at Dean. You slid between him and Cas “Ok fellas, let’s take this somewhere else” they glared at each other over your head but followed you and Sam into Cas’ office.

------

You stood between them while Sam said “Dean, stow the baggage” then you spoke up “We got a damn case, let’s work it shall we?”

Dean waved as if to say go ahead so you turned to Cas “Did you know the angel in that video?” he nodded “Yes his name was Oren. He was a new recruit. He worked in community outreach” “And what does that mean?” you questioned and Cas clarified “Some of my troops are stationed at a local hospital. They help where they can. Minor miracles it’s nothing that would cause attention” now that sounded like the Cas you knew.

“So what was he doing in that video, with the stabbing?” Sam asked. “That was enochian on his chest, what did it mean?” you questioned glancing back at Cas who nodded “The runes..I think they were meant to focus energy. When he stabbed himself it unleashed all that power” so just like you thought. An angelic suicide bomb.

“So what about the girl? What happened to her?” Sam asked and Cas shrugged “If she was the target, If the blast was focused on her then more likely than not she was atomized” “Shit” you breathed before Cas asked “Well what do we do now?”

Dean shook his head “You don’t do Jack..Me, Sam and Y/N will head to the hospital. See if we can find someone who knew this walking nuke” “Hold on. These are my people. I can help” Cas argued and Dean replied “That’s sort of the problem. I mean the manson girls aren’t gonna give us straight answers with Charlie in the room. Just hang back” 

“So I should just sit here?” Cas asked and Dean nodded “Pretty much” “Then I’ll follow Josiah’s trail to Colorado” Cas reasoned and Dean nodded “Fine then Sam’s going with you” “Because you don’t trust me?” Cas questioned and Dean shook his head “To help. Now do I need to send Y/N too?”

You scoffed “I think they can handle it. They’re a grown hunter and angel. Now if you want me gone I can make myself scarce” “Don’t be like that. I’m just trying to handle all this” Dean replied so you shook your head “Fine Sam and Cas head to Colorado. Me and you will hit the hospital but none of us are doing shit sitting around here” you cut your eyes down at Dean’s right arm where you knew that mark was before turning to walk out not saying a word to either three of the men.

------

“What was that about?” Dean asked once he joined you in baby. You shrugged not even looking in his direction when he pulled out onto the road “Oh you mean the part where you apparently think you’re the only person who’s capable of doing this damn job anymore?”

“Wait,what?” he seemed genuinely confused so you let out a harsh breath “After you killed Abaddon I heard what you told Sam about keeping me out of her crosshairs and about not wanting the blade far away from you. I get that you’re juiced up from the mark and the blade,  I get you want to protect me and christ I love you for that but Dean I’m a hunter too. Sam’s a hunter and Cas is a frickin angel we’re all capable. I just need to know if you’re capable of towing the line when it’s needed because when you got into it with Cas back there those angels didn’t like it and I really don’t want to be in a position where they decide you’re a threat because I’m going to fight at your side whether you like it or not, so is Sam” he nodded and reached for your hand so you met him halfway lacing your fingers together “Sure you’re not just sick of me?” he asked and although his tone was joking you could sense something else just under the surface so you squeezed his hand gently “Takes a lot more to get rid of me Winchester, now let’s get the doc Cas pointed us in the direction of and see what she knows”

------

The plan was for you to hang out front with Hannah and the other angels. Simply put, you were more diplomatic than Dean besides you didn’t really want to interrogate an angel again considering Ezra had been such a bust. Instead you chose to wander the halls between the main area of the control center. You told yourself it was just a precaution in case Metatron may have yet another mole, not to keep an eye on Dean.

 You heard the sound of what was clearly the table flipping and ran to the door of the interrogation room ripping it open to show Dean had the angel “Flagstaff” flat on her back with an angel blade to her throat. You ran over and grabbed his arm to stop him from doing anything that would cost all of you as she begged “Please, dont” he cut his eyes at you so you asked her “Oren, friends?” “Constantine and Tessa” “Tessa, the reaper?” Dean questioned obviously having recognized the name. You vaguely remembered her then it struck you that she’d been there when Dean struck the deal with Death for Sam’s soul.

“You know her?” Flagstaff asked as you pulled Dean backwards then helped her to her feet “We’ve met her a time or two” her eyes never left yours as she said “Thank you” you didn’t try to lie so you simply said “I didn’t stop him for you” “But you stopped him” she replied then quickly scurried out. You turned to look at Dean who was standing a step or two away from you “So now you’re literally my humanity and plan to pop up wherever you think my judgement is failing?” you shook your head before saying “Dean, I love you. I’d do anything for you and Sam but the moment you decide you don’t want me here just let me know because I refuse to see you make a decision that will end up with you dead. I’ve lost too much already” you started to walk out but he grabbed your arm before you could “Thank you Y/N” “For what?” you asked with a sigh.

He motioned to the chair that was still on the floor “For reminding me to pull back when needed” you nodded then walked out the room with plans to try to track Tessa down.

------

Flagstaff pointed you towards the hospital in search of Tessa. When you and Dean got there she was missing and so was an ambulance. You hacked the GPS and used it to track her to a meeting hall. 

Luckily Dean managed to restrain her with the enochian cuffs before she could pull off her planned hit so the two of you took her back to Cas’ command center to interrogate her unfortunately Constantine had already pulled off his hit.

You walked in beside Dean who was guiding Tessa and felt your stomach knot in worry at seeing Flagstaff talking to Hannah and the other angel who wasn’t the biggest fan of Dean’s. “Tessa? What are you two doing?” Hannah asked, clearly pointing the question at you. “Well Tessa you want to tell her or should I?” when she didn’t reply you pulled the collar of her shirt down far enough Hannah could see the carvings on her. 

“Oh god” Hannah breathed to which Tessa replied “There’s no god. There’s only Castiel” “And you’ve lost your public speaking privileges” you said then nodded at Dean to take her to the interrogation room.

------

Hannah, Flagstaff and the other angel followed you and Dean. “He wounded her” Hannah accused so after Dean had pushed Tessa into the interrogation room you spun around to face the brunette angel “He defused her, ya know so she couldn’t be an angelic bomb?” “And now? What will he do to her?” the male angel asked you. “Get answers” you replied and Flagstaff scoffed “You uphold him torturing her?” Dean stood at your back stoic despite the fact that all of you were talking about him as if he wasn’t even standing there “We need to know if there’s other bombers out there. Aren’t all angels your siblings? If we can get answers out of one to stop multiple deaths isn’t that worth it?”

She shook her head “And to think I considered you different” “That was your mistake sugar not mine” you told her but Hannah spoke up “I won’t allow it. I know what Tessa was planning. It's horrible but there’s only one person who can punish her” Dean rolled his eyes “Let me guess, Yea big, trench coat, sensible shoes?”

“Both of you need to understand Castiel is the only thing holding us together. A month ago, half the angels in this place were trying to kill the other half. Castiel has given us a purpose but more than that he’s given us a way to live in peace. We have rules, order” you clocked angels walking up behind you and Dean and angels walking up behind Hannah as she spoke. “If I let you take matters into your own hands, What’s to stop one of us from doing the same? He can talk to her, he should talk to her but he leaves the blade outside and you stay with my people Y/N as a sort of collateral” 

“You asking or telling?” Dean questioned. The male angel spoke up “We’re not asking”  You saw Dean’s jaw clench slightly so you eased the angel blade out of his hand then held it out to Hannah “Here’s the blade and I’ll stay” she smiled “Thank you Y/N” you cut your eyes at Flagstaff before repeating the words you’d said to her earlier “I didn’t do it for you” 

------

You were sitting in Cas’ office when Flagstaff came in and drug you to your feet with an angel blade to your throat. “What the hell? Put me down you winged bitch” you struggled against her but two more angels were backing her up “Seems your Winchester isn’t as fond of your life as you thought” “What?” you asked and the blonde angel who’d walked in explained “He killed Tessa”

“DEAN!” you screamed as they drug you out into the main area and heard him scream your name followed by the sounds of a fight. A blonde angel backhanded you and you went down hard. You glared up at her but when Flagstaff said “Calm him and we won’t kill either of you until the commander decides” the fight left out of you. You couldn’t risk them killing Dean or him fighting even harder because he heard you.

------

You were nearly carried into the hall and dropped at Dean’s feet. He was being tied to a chair and you could see the rage in his eyes when he saw your split lip and swollen jaw. They’d taped his mouth but you could see the question in his eyes. You nodded weakly “I’m fine” and sat down slowly on the floor next to him as the angels finished tying him up then looked at you. Hannah shook her head “Leave her”

Once you were alone you glanced up at Dean “Did you kill Tessa?” he shook his head so you nodded again then laid your head over on his leg. Neither of you could do anything until Cas got there. Not even Dean could fight over two dozen angels and walk out the winner.

------

You weren’t sure how long passed until the door opened again. It was Hannah followed by Cas. “They put up a fight” she explained when Cas saw the both of you. “Get out” Cas fumed.

Sam was already to yours and Dean’s side. He looked down at you as he took the tape off Dean’s mouth “Y/N are you ok?” you nodded “Jaw’s gonna be sore but I’ve had a lot worse” you climbed to your feet to stand next to Sam as he untied Dean. 

“Should’ve seen the other guys” Dean joked. “They said you killed Tessa?” Cas questioned and you were curious as well to just what had happened considering you hadn’t actually spoken to Dean. He looked at you when he answered Cas “She knifed herself” “Yeah? Why would she do that Dean?” Sam asked and given what you’d been dealing with from the effects of the mark, you couldn’t blame Sam’s skepticism but you spoke up to say “Sam they had me. Dean knew if he killed her, they had me in a room alone with half a dozen angels and no weapon”

“He had the first blade Y/N” Sam said and you felt your heart fall to your feet. “What?” you asked softly. Dean didn’t meet your eyes as he spoke to Sam “They told ya about that huh?” “We had a deal!” Sam reminded him but Dean scoffed “It was a stupid deal” “One that if you would’ve stuck to it Tessa would still be alive. Without her we ain’t go jack. Not to mention what if Hannah would’ve decided not to wait for Cas and took out you killing one of theirs on Y/N! Ever think about that?” Sam was angry you could feel it rolling off of him and for once you had no intention of stepping between the brothers.

You knew something had been off but you’d told yourself Dean had hidden another angel blade or the demon knife but no he’d smuggled the first blade not stopping to think of the consequences. 

“You think I don’t know all of that? You think I wanted to lose our lead? Do you really think I wanted Y/N in any sort of danger?” Dean threw back but Sam retorted “I don’t know Dean did you?” “Stop it! Both of you” Cas warned and you purposely stepped closer to him.

The door opened to show Hannah. She looked around then said “Commander, I’m sorry but you have a call..from Metatron”

------

You walked closer to Sam than Dean as the three of you followed Cas into the main control room. Metatron’s face was on the screen “Castiel! I bet you’re not happy to see me” “Is anyone ever you little weasel?” you snapped at him without thinking. “Y/N! I see Dean’s b-grade eighties action movie wit is rubbing off on you”

You glanced at Dean before Sam asked “What do you want Metatron?” He smiled at all of you from the screen “Just to tell Ass-tiel. There that I’m still alive. His bomber failed” “My bomber?” Cas asked and Metatron nodded “The crazy guy. Big knife? Kablooey? I’m fine thanks for asking but Gadreel is wounded and Tyrus.. Well R.I.P.  His followers are not your biggest fans by the way. They’ve all come over to my team”

“I didn’t send anyone to kill you” Cas insisted and you knew him well enough to know he was telling the truth but Metatron scrunched “Oh, stop lying Castiel” “Who are you to lecture me on lying? Your deception led to the fall” Cas retorted. “I did what I had to do” Metatron reasoned leaning up to add “I have always done what I have to do, for god and the angels”

“Sure, you’re mother Teresa with neck beard” Dean replied but Metatron was undeterred “What I did was neither good nor bad. It was necessary a small hardship to make us all stronger, to make us a family again.” “Except for the angels you had Gadreel kill?” Sam asked and Metatron rolled his eyes slightly “Ok, yes. Maybe I got a little carried away at first, but those days are over. A near death experience makes you re-evaluate. So one time only, I’m offering amnesty. Every angel, no matter their sin, may join me and return to heaven. I will be their god and they can be my heavenly host”

“Why would we follow you?” Hannah asked. Metatron started to laugh “Look around. You’ve seen earth. You’ve had a taste of free will. I got to ask you, do you like it? And the way you’ve flocked off to follow Castiel tells me you need to follow someone. It’s in your dna” you slowly looked around at the other angels and it horrified you to see Metatron’s words were having the desired effect on them.

“But Cas, he’s not what you think he is” he continued “He sends out angels to die. Have you told them about your stolen grace, Castiel? How it’s fading away and when it burns out so will you?” When no one gave any response he nodded “So, no then. I’m not the best but I’m the best you’ve got. You want to stay with Castiel, fine, but he’s playing you because at the end of the day the only thing he cares about is himself and the Hardy boys and Nancy drew there.  You’ve got a choice to make. Make the right one” he ended the video call and you could hear a slight murmur go through the crowd of angels who were staring at you, Sam and Dean.

“He’s lying” Cas spoke and Hannah was the first to ask “About the grace?” Cas cut his eyes at her “It’s complicated” “So he wasn’t lying” Flagstaff questioned. “He was about everything else. He..” Cas trailed off when he realized every angel’s eyes were on him. “You believe me, don’t you?”

Hannah stepped closer to him “I want to believe you but I..” she looked back at the crowd then corrected her words to say “We need proof” “Name it” Cas replied. She glanced at Dean “Punish him. He murdered Tessa. He broke our rules” “Y’all can all go to hell” you snarled stepping over next to Dean before Flagstaff added “She was collateral so she should die as well”

“Wait a second” Sam tried but five angels had already grabbed Dean and three had grabbed you. Hannah looked at Cas “You gave us order and we gave you our trust. Don’t lose it over two humans” She held the angel blade out to him. “This is justice” You watched in horror as Cas took the blade from her hand. “Cas” his name was barely a whisper from your lips as he looked from you to Dean.

“No. I can’t” you felt a tension run through the angels before Hannah said “Goodbye, Castiel” the angels released all of you and followed her out. You stepped closer to Sam as all of you watched them leave.

------

You sat silently next to Cas in the backseat of the impala. No one spoke a single word on the drive back to the bunker.

You let everyone go before you down the stairs then slowly followed them. You heard Sam ask “Dean, are we gonna talk about this or what?” “About what?” Dean asked throwing his bag down on the table in the map room before turning to face Sam “Yeah I lied but you were being an infant” you raised an eyebrow “Wow” then followed Cas into the library. You heard Sam say “No Y/N’s right even for you that apology sucked”

You sat your bag down on the table then walked back into the map room about the time Dean said “That blade’s the only thing that can kill Metatron and I am the only one who can use it. So from here on out, I’m calling the shots. Capisce?” Neither of them had noticed you so you remained silent through Dean saying “Look, until I jam that blade through that douchebag’s heart, we are not a team. This is a dictatorship. Now you don’t have to like it but that’s how it’s gonna be” “Nice to know” you finally spoke and they both looked surprised to see you standing there. You shook your head then grabbed your bag from the library and headed down the hall. 

You threw the bag into the room you used to sleep in before you and Dean started sharing one room then sat heavily on the bed. Why were you even staying? Hell at this point did he even want you here anymore? From the looks of it you were simply becoming more and more of a liability to him. 

------

You stood to head back to the library with plans of simply thanking Cas but froze when you spotted Gadreel. “GUYS!” Sam was the first behind you then you heard Dean and Cas come running up. “I’m not here to fight” Gadreel promised with both hands up to show he was unarmed.

You stepped back closer to Sam as Gadreel took a few steps towards Dean and Cas “I thought about what you said. You’re right Metatron..he’s..something needs to be done” you wanted to believe he was in earnest, you truly did. “And we should trust you why?” you asked glancing back at Sam. “Because I can give him to you. Y/N I know where Metatron is.I know everything. I know the bombers. They were his agents not yours Castiel” he glanced around at the four of you before saying “You don’t trust me, fine. I understand. I’ve made mistakes but haven’t all of you. At least give me a chance”

Dean cut his eyes at you then Sam. You gave a slight nod, so did Sam. Dean walked over to Gadreel and held his left hand out seemingly to shake. You knew something was wrong the moment Dean offered his left hand “DEAN NO” you screamed but in the blink of an eye Dean had already slashed Gadreel’s chest open with the first blade. 

Tags: @facadeformyrealblog @akshi8278 @brilovesdeanwinchester

#spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader #always be yours

[xxisxxisxxis]

Special Preview: Gateway Drug | 1989

Hi:) I hope everyone had a good day! This is something coming up very soon in the story.

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.

.

"Now, you and Nikki are like the poster children of what not to do when you get married." Howard Stern says and I rub my lips together, holding back a laugh as I shake my head. "Yeah, yeah, and you know it."

"Well, we shouldn't have gotten married as young as we did--that's where we really screwed ourselves ove--"

"--You were seventeen when you two got married weren't, you?" 

"Nineteen. Jesus, no, I was nineteen." I correct him. 

"Two years, same difference." He shrugs. "Was he high at the wedding? He was stoned outta mind at Tommy's, I heard." 

"He wasn't on anything when we got married. His deal with the really heavy stuff wasn't until a few weeks after we got married." 

"That poor man." He says, shaking his head slightly. "Perfectly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, meets a hot girl, settles down some and not a month into the marriage he's so miserable he gets on heroin." He adds. 

"Dude, shut up." Duff laughs it off and I roll my eyes, chuckling to myself as Howard points his finger at me. 

"You're trouble. You gotta be, that's all anybody can say about you, you know that right? 'She's a hot chick but she's trouble'." 

"I'm not trouble." I deny it. 

"Well, maybe not now 'cause you got a kid, you can't just go out and kick peoples asses anymore." He points out. "Well, no, no I take that back because you did a number on Bobby Dall and Bret Michaels while you were pregnant, didn't you?"

"Okay, that's…" I trail off, sighing, trying to think. 

"Yes or no, that you tore them a new one when you were still knocked up?" 

"I did, but it wasn't, like, a physical altercation, I don't think they would've hit me because I was pregnant." 

"I think they didn't hit you because they figured they'd have half of the sunset strip rock scene on their backs." He adds, going back to what he said earlier about not believing Duff and Nikki were the only rockstars I was sexually linked to and Duff coughs, taking another puff of his cigarette. 

"Probably." I agree. 

"So, that's confirmation you've rolled around with--"

"--I didn't say that." I argue. "I know a lot of those guys through Nikki and the boys and so I'm friends with a lot of them so if they caught wind I was hit when I'm pregnant, they'd probably be pissed." I explain. 

"What even happened in that situation, why were you pouring beer or piss or whatever the hell it was on Bobby and Bret?" He asks next. 

"Slash had said something about posers in a magazine." I tell him. 

"And we shared a publicist, not anymore, but anyway, Bobby and Bret--apparently--had approached her and was grilling her over what Slash had said and she made the smart comment that she didn't understand why they were so threatened by us when Guns hadn't sold 500,000 records, but they were selling millions, and according to her, Bret and Bobby poured beer on her for it, and she was really upset so me and the guys sent her a card and some flowers and Viv had heard about it and...took it into her own hands." He tries to hold his grin back.

"You don't say." Howard says it, brows raised. "How did your husband feel about this? Because I feel like you get yourself into some stuff when he's either stoned outta his mind or in rehab--does he normally keep you on a leash and pretty tame because you seem to fly off the cuff when he's not available." He says next. "I'm noticing a pattern." 

"He doesn't keep me on a leash." I reply. 

"Unless you want him to." He counters and I can't bring myself to even respond to it. "Is it because you're lonely and want attention when he's not around?" 

"No, that's not--"

"--'Cause I can give you attention if you'd like." He says next. 

"No, thank you." I dryly say. 

"Are you into stuff like that, though, I mean really?" 

"What stuff?" 

"Leashes and weird things like that."

"I--"

"--You gotta be to be married to someone like Nikki Sixx." He crosses his arms. "Well, take that back, because he cheated on you with that wild Vanity chick, right? So, you probably were his vanilla companion and he went to her for the unspeakable stuff." 

Ouch. 

"He was with her for drugs." I state. 

"Oh?"

"I wouldn't get high with him or find it fun to lay around and find new ways to cook substances so that's why he was with her--to have somebody to do drugs with and have this whole romantic thing going." 

"So, you were good in bed together? He wasn't bored?" 

"If Nikki finds something boring he doesn't do it. If he thought I was boring in bed he'd honestly stop and go find something better to do." 

"Ouch." 

"Yeah."

"But that's good for you, though, because you know he's not bored with you. He likes sleeping with you. Not that I can blame him. You're hot--what'd he think of that Playboy cover you did? Was he into it or…?" 

"Not really because we weren't really on speaking terms because it was right after some stuff happened and...yeah. I don't think he didn't like it because I was doing it. I think he was still mad over other things going on." 

"I was certainly into it." He says. "Wish you woulda shown more but, whatever, I'll take what I can get, Miss Modesty." 

I roll my eyes and he smiles. 

"I have it pinned to my ceiling." He adds. "I have fun with myself while looking at it at night, you know." 

Duff nearly chokes on his water. 

"You're awful." I tell Howard. 

"How tall are you?" 

"5'10"." 

"God," he huffs out, glancing at Duff. "You lucky bastard." He says next and Duff chuckles. "Yeah, laugh it up, I hate you. I hate Nikki, too--I especially hate Nikki because he's been getting to do some things to you for years that every man in the continental United States and some parts of Europe can only dream about." 

"What are you even talking about?" Duff can't help but laugh at the specificity, and I can't help but to, either. "Are you on anything?" He asks him. 

"I'm not on a damn thing--just high on the feelings I'm getting being in the same room as her." He replies, clearing his throat. "You were how old when you two started dating?" 

"Seventeen." I reply. 

"Was he your first sexual experience?" 

"I'm not answering that." 

"He was wasn't he?"

"Howard…" 

"Oh, my God. Seventeen. That must've been nice. You were still innocent church girl who didn't even know what sex was, I bet." 

"I knew what sex was." I argue. 

"That lucky, lucky, lucky bastard." He says it again. "I'm pissed that he cheated, by the way. I couldn't cheat on you. I feel like it'd be physically impossible to imagine myself with another woman except you--right now, at least." He says and I wrinkle my nose. 

"You're a pig." I tell him. 

"Don't make me get the chains and candle wax out while you degrade me, 'cause that turns me on." 

"You're sick." 

"I wouldn't mind being next in line to have a kid with you." He says next. 

"I hate you." I say flatly. 

"You want more kids in the future? With Nikki, obviously, unless you three just have some threesome thing going." He motions to me and Duff. 

"No, no, we don't...I'd like to have kids with Nikki, yeah." I reply. 

"Really? How many?"

"Quite a few." 

"We talkin' two, four, six, eight, how much is a--"

"--About that many, yeah." 

"Eight?" He raises his brows, shocked. 

"About four to six, maybe." 

"Six kids?" 

"Sure."

"Do you like being pregnant? I feel like that subconsciously comes from a freak part of your brain that's into pregnancy." 

"Why is everything sexual to you?" 

"You're deflecting."

"I'm not into pregnancy I just want a big family. I'm the only child my parents had and I want Monroe to have a lot of brothers and sisters." 

"Does Nikki know you want six kids?" 

"Yeah, we've talked about it."

"And he's good with that number?" 

"Yeah." 

"Answer this question for me." 

"Okay."

"Did you mention wanting six kids with him while making love, because I guarantee anybody in bed with you is gonna agree to murder if you ask them." 

"Why do you keep tying it back to sex, Howard, dude, chill." Duff tells him. 

"I'm just making a point." Howard tells us. 

"It wasn't during 'making love'." I say. 

"I don't believe that." He states. "Because no man is gonna agree to six kids unless they're distracted by what the kids are gonna be coming out of--that's a weapon for you women and you guys use it knowing we're paralyzed victims."

"Oh, my God." I mumble. 

"The same vagina that got Nikki Sixx to get married, is the same vagina that had Duff McKagan risking his brand new career on a big tour, is the same vagina that convinced Nikki to stay and have six more kids despite you being completely crazy." 

My face turns bright red, my eyes closing as I hold back a nervous chuckle, and I can tell Duff's getting aggravated. 

"Why do you want so many kids--the real reason." Howard asks. 

"The plan is to milk as many from him as I can and then file for divorce and collect alimony and child support." I say, sarcastically. 

"Seriously?" 

"No, Howard." I scold him for even considering that's a possibility.

"I honestl--no, you know what I think? I think what I hear about you being wild and crazy and evil is completely true, and you just keep stomping your heels down on these guys' throats and torture them but they let you get away with it because you're sexy and have a hot body and whatever poison is between your legs is like heroin." 

I feel a punch to my stomach but push it aside. 

"Oh, please, if that were the case I'd be getting anything I wanted and wouldn't have had a husband who was strung out for years." 

#gateway drug

[justkeeptrekkin]

Wrote a little Good Omens/Star Trek crossover

.... for the awesome @comicgeekery​. Thanks for the inspo!

5th April, 2063

“--historic day for humankind. For this is truly the first time that we have been able to refer to ourselves as such with the certainty that there is, in fact, life elsewhere in the perceivable universe.”

It’s a balmy, spring afternoon in London when Crowley rolls out of bed and turns on the television. Honestly, he’s fairly used to ignoring the news; it’s only on because he’d left it on channel one last night for a nature documentary that he and Aziraphale have been watching about whales. That’s why he pays very little attention to the picture on his projector screen.

“-- quite extraordinary. It seems as if this was all triggered by Zefram Cochrane's attempt at warp-speed flight, and er-- just coming in now, these beings call themselves Vulcans, Jane, and-- aha-- well, they’re not quite saying that they come in peace, but if our translators are correct, they’re offering us a long and prosperous life--”

Crowley slams his mug on the counter. He’s run out of coffee. He could very easily conjure up some more now, right here, but miracle-coffee is never as good as the nice Costa Rican stuff he buys. Or, more accurately, that Aziraphale buys for him, because he’s just that much of a kept man, apparently.

A knocking at the door. A light rapping that Crowley recognises immediately, and it would usually make him humiliatingly happy except for the fact that he’s just woken up from a--

He checks the time on the TV screen.

 -- from a two week nap, he hasn’t got any coffee, and the TV is blabbering on far too loudly. Waving a hand at said TV until it is muted, Crowley slides over to the door, dressing gown belt flapping about against his leg, and opens it with a flourish.

 Aziraphale has that bright-eyed, bushy-tailed look about him: never a good sign. “Crowley--”

Crowley plants a brief kiss on his cheek, then immediately retreats back into the kitchen, shoulders heavy with sleep. “I’m going back to sleep, angel. World’s too loud still.”

”Crowley--” the sound of the door slamming, very purposefully, Crowley thinks, as Azriaphale continues: “I have been trying to call you all morning. I thought you left your phone on vibrate for such things.”

 “I did. Didn’t I?” Crowley scratches his head. He’s sure he’d changed the ring tone for Aziraphale’s phone number specifically so he’d wake up when only he called. “Apparently not, sorry Angel-- any news?”

He sees the way Aziraphale is rolling his eyes and flapping about when he turns back around from the kitchen with two mugs of tea. His hands are fiddling with each other in that excitable way that they do, a happy nervous way that he’s come to adore. Crowley hands him a cup. Aziraphale takes it with a pointed raise of his brow.

“Any -- any news? Really. You could not have asked a more absurd--”

At that point, apparently, he’s lost for words. More frustrated than Crowley realised, and so he begins to take Aziraphale’s bright eyes and bushy tail a little more seriously. Particularly when Aziraphale puts down the cup of tea of all things, and gestures to the television, one arm outstretched and gaze still fixed on Crowley.

The screen remains muted. However, Crowley gathers what Aziraphale is gesturing at fairly quickly. He’s so used to letting the news blend into the background, tired of feeling depressed by the human race -- especially with this World War III nonsense -- that he’d completely missed that something, actually, rather important has been happening.

It looks like the research base in San Francisco. Crowley knows only a little about this; as the angel who created a fair few of the stars in the sky, he takes interest when humans start pointing their big magnifying glasses at them. Zefram Cochrane, the inventor of warp-speed engines, and a few other important looking men (who may well be important, what does Crowley know? He hasn’t been paying attention) welcomes three people. People, except they’re not human. Humanoid, perhaps, but human? No. Crowley can spot an alien a mile off.

“Crikey,” he mutters, hovering in his sparse living room with his dressing gown open and tea steaming.

Aziraphale nods fervently.

“Which ones are these?”

“These are the Vulcans,” Aziraphale explains. “Do you remember? Our colleagues -- oh, I forget their names -- a few of our colleagues helped set up. Erm.” Aziraphale purses his lips. “Well, their version of Eden.”

“Something like Sha Ka Ray, if I remember,” Crowley mutters, unblinking as he watches one of the Vulcans raise their hand in a v-shape, the humans mimicking.

“That was it! Sha Ka Ree.”

They’re wearing long, heavy cloaks. Even expressions, but glints in their eyes, as if they are taking some professional enjoyment out of this. The humans, barely containing their own excitement -- and probably a good dose of apprehension. Human beings, finally meeting an alien species who could take them down a notch, teach the buggers a couple of things. Crowley and Aziraphale certainly never managed to, much as they’ve tried. Far too stubborn.

After a while of sitting and watching the proceedings-- the beginnings of a new, enterprising delegation-- Crowley gives a long exhale.

“Those bowl cuts are questionable.”

Stardate: 53459 (17th July 2269)

“What? Just give them a quick ring? Give the flagship of Starfleet’s exploratory expedition a cheeky call, just to check in? ‘Hello Enterprise, nice to meet you’?”

“Yes. Why, do you not think that they’d appreciate it?”

“It’s less that they won’t appreciate it and more that it might blow their tiny minds, Angel.”

“They’ve met plenty of extraordinary species by this point -- extraordinary by their standards, anyway. A call from us will be -- how do they put it -- ‘a walk in the park’--?”

“Not the point. That’s -- that’s actually the bit that I’m struggling with, here. What is the point, exactly? What are you aiming to achieve? You looking to freak them out or…?”

“Well, I thought perhaps we could… ah. Tell them who we are.”

Aziraphale looks at Crowley. Red hair tied up, ringlets around his face; silver eye-shadow; a black jumpsuit in the style of the Terran fashion that really leaves very little to the imagination, with cut-outs here and there all over his body. Legs crossed, foot bouncing impatiently, arms sprawled across the back of Aziraphale’s sofa. In his old bookshop, Crowley always sticks out like a sore thumb, and he’s always loved that about him.

He tilts his head. “Really,” he drawls, vaguely amused.

“Yes. Don’t you think it’s about time?”

“IIIII dunno…” Crowley sucks air through his teeth contemplatively. “Never ends very well. Tell humans that angels and demons roam their planet and they get all agitated. Don’t need to tell you that, you remember how much it traumatised dear old Hieronymous. Couldn’t stop painting us, the poor bastard.”

Aziraphale sighs. “Yes, well, that was different. That was almost a millennia ago, now.”

The bookshop is still just as dusty as it has ever been. Crowley has been urging him to at least install a proper computer -- one that will answer to him, rather than sitting there stupidly, looking like a brick. But he is quite happy with it as it is, especially when he has Crowley here, lounging about as he’s always done, draped across the furniture like he’s still wrapped around that apple tree. And drinking more wine than is good for them.

“Right so -- let’s just role-play this--” Crowley’s glass makes a decisive clink against the table, “-- we patch into their network. Right? I find their frequency and just, try and call from my PADD.”

“Yes,” he confirms, not liking his partner’s tone of voice.

“So then they answer, all, military-like and ready for some sort of diplomatic… situation.”

“Mm…”

Crowley’s leaning forward in his seat, gesticulating a enthusiastically. “They see us, they’re all, ‘oi, how did you get this number?’ and we’re all, ‘sorry, just thought we’d pop in and introduce ourselves, we’re your new neighbours,’” he wrinkles his nose mockingly, “‘Cept we’re not new at all, not really, we’ve been here since the dawn of time, but don’t worry too much about that’.”

“Well--”

“So they’re all, ‘ah, immortal beings from outer space!’ and we have to explain that, actually, we’re not really from space at all, we’re the ones who made space, and no, sorry, we’d love to patch you through to God, except She’s been a little busy for the past six thousand odd years, no can do, just got us boring old sods’.”

“Crowley, really. Don’t you think you’re being a little reductionist?”

“No.” Suddenly serious. “I don’t. They’re humans. They’re brilliant, but they’re also humans, which means they’re also thick as shit.”

Aziraphale purses his lips, electing to ignore the love of his life for this moment. Sitting up properly, linking his hands in his lap. “I think it’s time.”

“And what do you think they’ll do?”

“Perhaps it will bring about some new, interesting philosophy. About the nature of the universe, of the overlap between science and faith.”

Crowley’s brow quirks, yellow eyes staring, wide and disbelieving. “Some ‘new and interesting philosophy’? Books. You’re talking about books. You think you’ll get some nice literature out of this.”

Aziraphale flounders. “Well, that’s not exactly how I’d put it--”

Crowley scowls. But then, he’s taking out his PADD from his purse, making aggravated noises as his fingers fly across the screen.

“You’re doing it?” Aziraphale asks hopefully.

“Yes, yes. You got all happy as soon as you started talking about it and-- I was never really going to say no, was I? You know how pathetic I am by this point, surely.”

He’s not looking at him, but Aziraphale is gazing with those big, angel-eyes that Crowley’s told him he uses sometimes. They drive him insane, but he can’t help it, not when Crowley’s being so unintentionally romantic. “Oh, Crowley.”

“Shhhht. Stop. I’m not doing anything nice, I’m--”

“Not nice, I know.”

Aziraphale smiles serenely. Crowley’s scowl deepens, just as the PADD begins to ring.

The screen is propped up against a wine bottle, just in time for the image to reveal a man. A man in green and gold, sand-blonde hair swept back and a look of cautious curiosity in his hazel eyes. Behind his chair, a woman in red is leaning over the controls. The captain’s head is angled slightly, tilted as he seems to consider his situation -- consider the two strangers who have called their starship.

“Greetings, this is Captain Kirk of the Starship: Enterprise. To whom am I speaking?”

“Oh, how exciting,” Aziraphale whispers, nudging Crowley a little. Then, more loudly, “Greetings, Captain Kirk! My name is Aziraphale, and this is Crowley.”

Crowley sighs, seeming very put upon.

Aziraphale nudges him again. “Well! Don’t be rude, Crowley.”

“Yes, hello, how very nice to meet you,” he simpers accordingly.

“This is a secure line, gentlemen. How did you access our co-ordinates?”

“Ah, yep, sorry, my fault,” Crowley waves a hand. “I’m -- well, we’re, er… we can do stuff. Lots of stuff. He’ll explain later.”

He shoots Aziraphale a glare, which seems to be a warning that this could go horribly wrong. Aziraphale, ever the opportunist, elects to ignore this.

“That I shall,” Aziraphale adds, pointedly.

Kirk thinks. He thinks, sitting so still as he leans towards the monitor, that for a moment, Azirpahale thinks the screen has frozen. Then, turning his head to his right, he notes that he is talking to someone. A certain someone who then appears on screen, a royal blue shirt and hands clasped behind his back. A Vulcan. The two converse with a silent look.

Ah. Aziraphale knows that look very well. 

“Be that as it may,” Kirk continues, turning back to them, “it is technically a federal crime to trace Starfleet co-ordinates and to contact a ship without first organising an official meeting. That is, unless it is an emergency.”

“Oh, yes, I have heard of your ship’s adventures, captain,” Aziraphale rushes. He puts down his glass of wine. “You’ve done an awful lot of good, helping those in need.”

“We… do our best,” he says with a slow nod.

“Sorry. For the, er… illegal call,” Crowley says.

Another moment where both men share a glance. And then, the Vulcan in blue tilts an inquisitive chin.

“Sir, may I enquire as to the colour of your eyes? They do not appear to be contact lenses.”

It takes a moment for Crowley to realise that he’s the one being addressed. Then, “Ah! Bollocks. Forgot the sunglasses-- see Aziraphale, this is why we don’t call Starfleet when we’ve had two bottles of Rioja.”

“Awfully sorry, dear--”

The captain looks up at his colleague with a wry smile and a raised brow. “Spock, don’t you think it’s a little rude to as a stranger questions about their appearance?”

“A stranger who has made contact with Starfleet’s flagship outside of legal parameters.”

“Still, politeness can go a long way,” he adds with a smirk, and a look in his eyes that’s, quite frankly, obscene.

Crowley clears his throat. “To answer your question-- although, seems like they’re more interested in each other,” he says to Aziraphale as an aside, “- to answer your question, yeah, they’re real. Snake eyes. Unfortunate accident involving a bastard called Lucifer.”

A pause. The man named Spock tilts his head. Kirk leans forward in his seat.

“Lucifer, you say?”

At that, Crowley gives a wicked smile. Aziraphale sighs. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined this conversation starting.

Stardate: 51650 (9th May 2271)

“My point is -- my point is -- tribbles. Tribbles, now -- whose idea were those, then? Who thought they were a good idea? They’ve -- they’ve not got faces, they’ve not got hands or feet or paws or anything, just, little balls of fluff that just poof! Reproduce, until you’re up to your tits in furballs.”

“Now, tha’s what ah been tryna tell yeh, captain. And you mind what he’s saying, too, Lieutenant Uhura! I know you thought they’s adorable, but they’re terrors.”

“Pointless, they’re pointless. Don’t know what they were thinking of when they made tribbles, whoever they were.”

“Aye! See, straight from the mouth of an angel!”

“Er, former angel.”

”Them wee bastards’ve been cloggin’ up my ship’s engine, would ye believe?”

 “Our ship, Scotty.”

 “Oh. Well, o’course, captain… I didnae mean no disrespect, captain--”

 “In Russia--”

“I swear, if you’re about to say that Russia invented tribbles, Chekov, I’ll kick you out of this here bar faster than you can say Alabama Slammer.”

“Alright, now, Bones, it’s shore leave. He can say what he wants. We’re all here to relax. Isn’t that right, Spock?”

“Yeah, he sure looks relaxed there, Jim.”

“I am not accustomed to frequenting such establishments.”

“I would like to state, for the wecord, sir, that I was not going to say that Russia inwented tribbles.”

“I -- ah -- actually, I have a bit of a confession to make in that respect…”

“Angel. Please. Please don’t tell me that you’re… Christ, you didn’t…”

“You are the angel responsible for creating the tribble species?”

“You have a lot to answer for, Aziraphale.”

“It wasn’t intentional! Or, rather, the intention was to simply create a creature so lovely and adorable that no one could quite resist it. And, I suppose, what with evolution and how that may have changed their, erm, reproduction process…”

“You bastard.”

“Crowley -- for Heaven’s sake, it was simply an accident! You can hardly say that it’s worse than some of your creations.”

“I invented Luton airport. You invented the universe’s most irritating pest. Honestly, I figured some lower ranking demon had been the one to come up with it, but now I feel, sort of… betrayed.”

“Don’t say that! May I remind you that you are the one who came up with the M25? Which nearly destroyed the universe as we know it!”

“I beg your pardon? Would you care to rewind and just, explain that last bit, Aziraphale?”

“Oh -- er, it’s a long story.”

“A very long story that would mean another round. Angel, you are definitely bloody-well buying.”

Stardate: 43897 (24th November 2366)

“You know, when you said that you wanted to check-in with Picard and the team, this isn’t what I imagined.”

Their call isn’t immediately picked up. However, when it is, the first thing they see is a large barbershop quartet. They’re all wearing pink, candy-stripe suits and wicker hats. The bridge of the Enterprise looks much the same as it did under captain Kirk, if not for this barbershop quartet, and perhaps a few technological tweaks. And, of course, the current captain who sits in his chair, face in his hand.

“Er.” Crowley looks at Aziraphale, who looks back at Crowley. “This doesn’t look like a good time.”

“No, by all means,” Picard gestures to the screen, other hand still covering his face. “If you have any advice to offer, then I will happily take it.”

“What…” Aziraphale trails off, purses his lips. The, trying to affect something light and airy, “What seems to be the problem, captain?”

Picard looks over the edge of his hand. “Are you aware of the being that calls itself ‘Q’?”

He’s about to say that he isn’t -- perhaps Crowley knows this Q?-- but before they even have a moment to deliberate, the tallest of the barbershop quartet members steps forward from the throng and hops down the steps to Picard’s side. Dark eyes that have seen too much, brightened by mischief. And for a moment, there is the faintest flicker of recognition as he doffs his hat to the screen, leaning against Picard’s captain chair.

“Good day to you, gentlemen. Did you like my song?”

“No,” Picard says quite firmly. “Now, would you please leave and take your pestering elsewhere!”

Q tuts, rolls his eyes. Pokes his thumb in Picard’s direction. “He’s just grumpy because he hasn’t had his morning cup of Earl Grey.”

“You…”

It’s Crowley that says this. Leaning forward on Aziraphale’s sofa, snake pupils narrowing. And it’s then that Aziraphale realises that this is absolutely someone they know. He just can’t put his finger on it, whilst Crowley clearly has.

“You know him?” Picard says, with the smallest flicker of hope.

“Wait. Wait a second now,” Q points his finger at Crowley, frown deepening. He miracles his hat away, cradles his chin. “Now, we worked together a long time ago, didn’t we?”

That makes Aziraphale stare back at Crowley.

There’s some hesitance. “Oh. Sure, probably. Long time ago, now, wasn’t it? Who knows. Worked with lots of people.”

“No, no, no -- we did a lot of creating with each other. Some fun messing around you know?”

“Er. Not sure. Might have a different person in mind--”

And then those eyes widen. A wicked grin on his face, and Aziraphale can only imagine that this Q must be a demon.

That’s when Aziraphale finds himself standing on the bridge of the Enterprise. Jean-Luc Picard looking up at them despairingly, whilst the rest of his crew work as diligently as they can with a quartet serenading them. Data, notably, is working with the utmost focus, whilst Wharf looks like he’s two seconds away from ripping something in half bare-handed. Riker looks no more patient.

“Oh,” Aziraphale remarks. “You’ve -- you miracled us here!”

No use, Q is far too preoccupied by Crowley. Pointing a finger in recognition. “You’re Crawly! I remember you! Oh, we got up to some good stuff together, huh? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any of the guys from the Milky Way neighbourhood. You guys really like to keep to yourselves, I never understood it. Totally obsessed with your ‘Eden’ as if the rest of us don’t exist.”

“You o know him,” Picard says with some accusation.

Crowley looks, to put it lightly, a little embarrassed. Hands sliding in his pockets and averting his snake-eyed gaze, “Yup. Long time ago. Hung out with a different crowd, then, you got to understand…”

“Qasphiel.” The name bubbles up on Aziraphale’s tongue from nowhere; memories of a gaggle of angels who called themselves the Q Continuum, who were cast out for blasphemy. Creating your own little gang was never something that The Almighty did like. “You’re Qasphiel. You know, I do remember you, now that I think about it.”

Q looks Aziraphale up and down once. “I don’t remember you. Were you one of the more straight-laced types? Yeah, we wouldn’t have hung out, much.”

“Excuse me? I… I’ll have you know, that since then I’ve become quite the rebel--”

“What’re you doing here, Qasphiel?” Crowley interrupts with some exhaustion. “Coming in here and getting on everyone’s nerves -- believe me, I get that it’s fun for a while, but, come on. You must be a bit knackered of it now, no matter what the others are getting you to do.”

“Ah, but I don’t work on anyone’s terms any more. Not even the Continuum’s,” Q smiles smugly.

“That’s awfully nice, but the alternative is buggering off, so the rest of us can get on with our lives.”

He narrows his eyes at Crowley. “What’s in it for me?”

A weary sigh. And Aziraphale considers just how kind Crowley has always been, even if he doesn’t always see it. “Listen. How about -- what about a catch-up. Grab a drink on some planet in the Omicron Delta quadrant. Talk about old times? Big Bang and all that?”

“Ah yes,” Q sighs. Then, apparently distracted, “You know, I don’t recall the yellow eyes,” he gestures to his own. “The demonic thing. Did you fall with Lucy and the others, Crawly? Bad luck.”

“That’s a story that needs telling over a drink.”

There’s a long moment -- too long a moment -- where Q considers this offer. Picard is leaning back in his seat and watching the interaction over steepled fingers. Even Data has stopped to listen, head tilted in interest.

Then, Q shrugs.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

And with that, Picard’s bridge is once again empty of divine or immortal beings. Or barbershop quartets. It is extraordinarily quiet.

Picard lets out a long exhale. “Never a dull day.”

 Stardate: unknown

Three suns set upon the horizon of Alpha Centauri. Palm trees wave in the breeze; planted there a few decades ago when this planet first became populated by humanoid species. The air tastes like salt and smells like ozone. A burning orange sky, a deep purple scattering of stars directly above them. Small, clay houses, their shutters closed in the late afternoon heat. Mountain ranges in the distance, seeming so small from their little balcony.

“Total tourist trap,” Crowley mutters into his glass of Romulan ale.

Aziraphale stifles a burp. “Sorry?”

“Look at it. Tourist trap.” Crowley crosses his legs on the railing of the balcony. “All of it. Built like a Terran city, as well. Palm trees and all that bollocks. Shops and restaurants, Christ, it couldn’t get more human if you tried. When will they stop colonising and just learn to appreciate?”

“Mmm.”

“Remember when we could come here and not be harassed by people selling sunglasses? When it was just a big, ol’ expanse?”

“Empty,” Aziraphale remarks. Then, wide eyed, “Hot.”

They watch the first sun dip behind the mountain ranges. The Romulan ale burns Crowley’s throat nicely.

“D’you ever wonder what it would’ve been like?”

Aziraphale takes a slow, indulgent breath. And Crowley knows that he understands what he’s asking. “Sometimes. But I think it’s better that we didn’t run away. We did save the universe, after all.”

“I know, obviously. But do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t?”

Of course he does. They both have. Images of a war-torn universe, of all of this: gone.

Crowley drops his hand, finds Aziraphale’s. Their fingers link, and they absorb the light of three, alien stars.

#star trek #good omens #ineffable husbands #lmao #my writing #this was meant to be 5 +1 times and i just realised it was 4+1 #oops sorry m8

[valeriethepussycats]

Assemble

Chapter 2

Pairing- Loki x Reader x Steve (one side)

Warning- cursing 

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics.

Flashback in Bold.

At night, a slum in India it attacked by a sickness. A little girl runs into the middle of a makeshift hospital in someone's home, pushing through the crowd frantically. She runs up the steps inside to greet the only doctor, Bruce Banner.

“What are you doing here?! Get out! You shouldn't be here.”  The Women scolded.

“I have to see the doctor. It's my father.” The little Girl explained.

“Calm down. What's wrong?” Bruce Asked.

“My father...” she looks to the other sick people, laying down and moaning in pain.

“Is he like them?” Bruce wondered.

The little girl holds out money, crumpled and looking desperate. “Please.”

Banner and the little girl run quickly to the edge of town. She leads him quickly through narrow passageways, and is proving too fast to keep up with. Banner spots a nice car, and looks around, worried. He runs into the girls house, when she leaves through a window, untraceable.

“Should have gotten paid up front, Banner.” Bruce scoffed.

Natasha entering the room behind him, making Banner turn around. “You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle.”

“Avoiding stress isn't the secret.” Bruce started.

“Then, what is it? Yoga?” Natasha said sounding unduly curious.

“You brought me to the edge of the city, smart. I uh... assume the whole place is surrounded?” Bruce wondered.

“Just you and me.” Natasha say trying to convince Bruce.

“And your actress buddy, is she a spy too? Do they start that young?” Bruce  wondered.

“I did.”

“Who are you?”

“Natasha Romanoff.”

“Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff? Because that's not gonna work out for everyone.” Bruce explained.

“No. No. Of course not. I'm here on behalf of Shield.” Natasha replied

“Shield. How did they find me?” Bruce questioned.

“We never lost you, doctor. We've kept our distance, even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent.”

“Why?”

“Nick Fury seems to trust you. But now I need you to come in.”

“What if I said no?” Bruce stated.

“I'll persuade you.” Natasha said in a voice soft.

“And what if the... other guy says no?” Bruce said uncertainly

“You’ve been more than a year without an incident. I don't think you wanna break that streak.” Natasha replied.

Bruce gently pushing a cradle. “I don't always get what I want.”

“Doctor, we're facing a potential global catastrophe.” Natasha commented.

“Well, those I actively try to avoid.” Bruce mumbled.

“This is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet.” She shows him a photo of the Tesseract on her cell phone. Banner takes a closer look.

“What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it? Bruce said in a sarcastic voice.

“Well, he wants you to find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. There's no one that knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that's where I'd be.” Natasha explained.

“So Fury isn't after the monster? Bruce hesitated.

“Not that he's told me.” Natasha replied.

“And he tells you everything?” Bruce queried

“Talk to Fury, he needs you on this.”

“He needs me in a cage?”

“No one's gonna put you in a...”

“STOP LYING TO ME!” Banner slams his fists onto the table.

Natasha grabs a gun hidden under the table, pointing it at him. Banner stays still, grinning.

“I'm sorry, that was mean. I just wanted to see what you'd do. Why don't we do this the easy way, where you don't use that, and the other guy doesn't make a mess? Okay? Natasha...”

Natasha, still wary, doesn't lower her gun. She lowers her gun and speaks into her earpiece.

“Stand down. We're good here.”

Dozens of soldiers armed to the teeth have surrounded the small house, but at her signal they back off a bit.

Bruce smiles back at Natasha. “Just you and me?”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

This isn’t real that’s all Y/n could think about as she walked home. The rain hammered against the roof of a nerdy houses, thunder rumbled as The dark sky was lit up by lightning flashing across.All she wanted to do was believe that Magneto was lying but she knew he was telling the truth. She knew it her mother is alive, has been this entire time.

Get it under control calm down. Come on remember what Gambit said “don’t let it control you you control it.”

Y/n was slowly starting to lose control. She was starting to hear what everyone around her was thinking and then Y/n starts to hear a ringing noise. Can deal with a sound Y/n place her hands around her head in a way to stop the voices.

“Excuse me, Miss are you alright?” Someone asked Y/n as he gently grab her on the shoulders.

Y/n looks up to the person in front of her and see red eyes. “Remy?”

“Is that someone I can call for you?” The man that looks like Remy asked.

Y/n finally comes to she realizes that the man in front of her is not with me not even trying to hide her disappointment she nods no, then walks away then her phone begins to ringing and vibrate in her pocket. She fishes her phone out of her pocket and then pushes answer.

“Hello?”

“Where are you because I know you’re not in Sydney, Australia.” Said Coulson.

“Walking home.” Y/n answered  honestly. “Why?”

“There’s someone I need you to pick up tomorrow. Is that some thing you can do?” Coulson voiced.

“I’ll be bright eyed and bushy tail.” Y/n said Tightly.

“I’ll send you all the information.”  Coulson replied. “Is something wrong?”

“You’re supposed to ask questions because I’m an agent and you’re my superior officer.” Y/n said in a dry tone.

“I’m asking this question as a person who’ve known you since you were ten.” Coulson replied.

“No it’s not.” Y/n answered. “But um..I’m gonna go home and watch some Y/t until I fall asleep.”

“Ok i’ll see you tomorrow.”

Y/n hangs up the phone.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Inside a Shield analytical room, filled with monitors of partially silhouetted people. Fury stands in the middle, frowning. They make up the World Security Council.

“This is out of line, Director. You're dealing with forces you can't control.” Council Member 1 commented.

“You ever been in a war, Councilman? In a firefight? Did you feel an overabundance of control?”  Nick said in a level tone.

“You saying that this Asgard has declared war on our planet?” Council Member 1  wondered.

“Not Asgard, Loki.” Nick corrected

“He can't be working alone. What about the other one? His brother.” Council Member 2 Chimed in.

“Our intelligence says, Thor is not a hostile. But he's worlds away, we can't depend on him to help. It's up to us.” Nick answered.

“Which is why you should be focusing on phase 2, it was designed for exactly...” Council Member 1 trailed off.

“PHASE 2 isn't ready, our enemy is. We need a response team.” Nick stressed.

“The Avengers Initiative was shut down.” Council Member 1 told Nick Fury.

“This isn't about The Avengers.” Nick Remarked.

“We're running the world's greatest covert security network and you're gonna leave the fate of human race to a handful of freaks.”

“I'm not leaving anything to anyone. We need a response team. These people maybe isolated, unbalanced even, but I believe with the right push they can be exactly what we need.”

“You believe?” Council Member 2 Chimed in.

“War isn't won by sentiment, Director.” Council Member 1 noted.

“No, it's won by soldiers.”  Nick replied.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

A brooklyn gym at night. Occupied by one man, beating a punching bag in the gym lights, alone in the floor, lost in the fight. The gym is old, as old as the man inside, Steve Rogers. Steve punched the bag, easily a hundred pounds, across the room with one swing snapping the metal chain and pummeling it back a dozen feet, sand spilling out from where he cracked the fabric. He stands up, breathing hard, and grabs another bag, resuming a more normal routine. Fury walks in.

“Trouble sleeping?” Nick Announced.

“I slept for seventy years, sir. I think I've had my fill.” Steve answered.

“Then you should be out, celebrating, seeing the world.” Nick replied.

Steve stops punching and walks over to the bench, unraveling the tape off his hands. He sits down.

“I went under, the world was at war, I wake up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost.” Steve explained.

“We've made some mistakes along the way. Some very recently.” Nick commented.

“You here with a mission, sir?” Steve wondered.

“I am.”

“Trying to get me back in the world?” Steve supposed

“Trying to save it.”  Fury hands Steve a file on the Tesseract, along with other files on Hydra’s  projects.

“Hydra's secret weapon.” Steve disclosed.

“Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think, the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs.” Nick explained.

“Who took it from you?” Steve wondered.

“He's called Loki. He's not from around here. There's a lot we'll have to bring you up to speed on if you're in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know.” Nick shared.

“At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me.”  Steve put forth.

“Ten bucks says you're wrong. There's a debriefing package waiting for you back at your apartment.” Nick started.

Steve turns and picks up a punching bag. Fury starts walking out of the gym.

“Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?” Nick finished

Steve without missing a beat. “You should have left it in the ocean.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Out in the Atlantic Ocean, Tony Stark, in his Iron Man suit, is cutting a pipeline transport with a laser cutter coming from his hand. He then places a Stark Energy Reactor. It lights up. Iron Man rockets out of the water and flies towards Stark Tower.

“You're good on this end. The rest is up to you.”

Pepper Potts on the other line. “You disconnected the transition lines? Are we off the grid?”

“Stark Tower is about to become a beacon of self-sustaining clean energy.” Tony grinned.

“Wow. So maybe our reactor takes over, and it actually works?” Pepper supposed.

Inside the Suit, Pepper appears on his hud Monitor.

“I assume. Light her up.” Iron Man flies to the Stark Tower Building, the power is switched on the Stark sign lights up.

“How does it look?” Pepper asked.

“Like Christmas, but with more... me.” Tony answered.

“Gotta go wider on the public awareness campaign. You need to do some press. I'm in DC tomorrow. I'm working on the zoning for the next three buildings.” Pepper revealed.

“Pepper, you're killing me. Remember the moment? Enjoy the moment.” Tony proclaimed.

“Then get in here and I will.” Pepper requested.

Tony arrives at his skyscraper penthouse and is in the process of taking off his Iron Man suit through a hi-tech gauntlet of gadgets.

“Sir, Agent Coulson of Shield is on the line.” Jarvis informed Tony.

“I'm not in. I'm actually out.” Tony remarked.

“Sir, I'm afraid he's insisting.” Jarvis stressed.

“Grow a spine, Jarvis. I got a date.”  Tony teased.

Pepper Potts stares up at the monitors of the reactor device. “Levels are holding steady... I think.”

“Of course they are, I was directly involved. Which brings me to my next question: how does it feel to be a genius?”  Tony asked.

“Well, ha, I really wouldn't know now, would I?” Pepper replied.

“What do you mean? All this came from you.”

“No. All this came from that.” Pepper Said Pointing to the energy in his chest plate.

“Give yourself some credit, please. Stark Tower is your baby. Give yourself... twelve percent of the credit.” Tony disclosed.

“Twelve percent?” Pepper voiced.

“An argument can be made for fifteen.” Tony pointed out.

“Twelve percent? Of my baby?”

“Well, I did do all the heavy lifting. Literally, I lifted the heavy things. And sorry, but the security snafu? That was on you.”

“Oooooh.”

“My private elevator...”

“You mean our elevator?”

“Was steaming with sweaty workmen. I'm going to pay for that comment about percentages in some subtle way later, aren't I?” Tony wondered.

Pepper pours herself and Tony a glass of

champagne. “Not gonna be that subtle.”

“I'll tell you what. Next building's gonna say 'Potts' on the tower.” Tony disclosed.

“On the lease.” Pepper murmured.

“Call your mom, can you bunk over?” Tony asked.

“Sir, the telephone. I'm afraid my protocols are being overwritten.” Jarvis stuttered.

“Stark, we need to talk.” Coulson Announced.

Tony picks up his phone and looks into it at Coulson. “You have reached the life model decoy of Tony Stark, please leave a message.”

“This is urgent.”

“Then leave it urgently.” At that moment the elevator door opens and Coulson appears. “Security breach.” Tony turns and looks a Pepper “That's on you.”

“Mr. Stark” Coulson started.

“Phil! Come in.”  Pepper beamed.

“Phil? Uh, his first name is Agent.” Tony remarked

“Come on in, we're celebrating.” Pepper

“I can't stay.” Coulson told Pepper.

“Which is why he can't stay.” Tony agreed with Coulson.

“We need you to look this over.”  Coulson said as he holds out a file towards Tony. “Soon as possible.”

“I don't like being handed things.” Tony voiced.

“That's alright, 'cause I love to be handed things. So, let's trade.” Pepper said as She pases her glass of champagne to Coulson, takes the file from him, then takes Tony's glass of champagne while passing the file over to Tony. “Thank you.”

“Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday.” Tony disclosed.

“This isn't a consultation.” Coulson replied.

“Is this about The Avengers? Which I...I know nothing about.” Pepper lied.

“The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, I thought. And I didn't even qualify.”  Tony pointed out.

“I didn't know that either.” Pepper lied. Again.

“Yeah, apparently I'm volatile, self-obsessed, don't play well with others.” Tony explained

“That I did know.” Pepper commented.

“This isn't about personality profiles anymore.” Coulson stated.

“Whatever. Miss Potts, got a minute?” Pepper walks over to Tony who places the files into his own databases. “You know, I thought we were having a moment.”

“I was having twelve percent of a moment. This seems serious, Phil's pretty shaken.” Pepper replied.

“How did you notice? Why is he Phil?” Tony questioned.

“What is all of this?” Pepper asked ignoring Tony’s previous question.

“This is, uh....” Tony expands his arms and different profiles appear in holographic form floating in the air in front of Tony and Pepper.

Screens appear of Captain America in action, the Hulk roaring as he attacks the army at Culver University, and Thor and Y/n fighting the Destroyer in New Mexico. Another is of Loki and the Tesseract to which Tony and Pepper look at in awe.

“I'm going to take the jet to DC tonight.” Pepper Announced

“Tomorrow.”  

“You've got homework. You've got a lot of homework.”

“Well, what if I didn't?”

“If you didn't?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean if you finished?” Pepper asked and Tony nods his head. “Well, um...then.” Pepper whispers something into Tony’s ear making him gasps. While Coulson looks away in embarrassment.

“Square deal. It's the last date.” Tony answered.

Pepper kisses him.”Work hard.”

As Pepper leaves with Agent Coulson, Tony grabs the Tesseract in holograph form, worried.

part 3

#loki x reader #loki x black!reader #steve x reader #steve x black!reader #thor x reader #marvel x reader #avengers x reader