#yes the last tag was a reference to dirty laundry

[mychemicalroadworkahead]

Tbh when I was little my favorite character in Jungle Junction was the one crab bartender so is it at all a surprise that I want to be a bartender and also get immense gender envy from them? I think not

#trans guy #my post #text post #jungle junction #bartenders #I want to be able to say vaguely cryptic yet poetic phrases while pouring a mixed drink goddammit #yes the last tag was a reference to dirty laundry #bartenders are so gender #Gary from dirty laundry is the person I aspire to be

[angryschnauzer]

Stuck

Summary: You are August Walkers maid, and when you are changing the sheets on his massive bed your hand gets stuck between the mattress and headboard. Upon finding you in that predicament August takes control of the situation, however it doesn’t mean you get unstuck any time soon. (Based on a pornhub video i saw at 2am a few nights ago)

Pairing: August Walker x Female Maid Reader (no race or size described) Fandom; Henry Cavill, Mission Impossible: Fallout.

Warnings; NSFW, 18+, Dub-con, Fingering, groping, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, size kink, breeding kink, boob play, anal fingering, double penetration, spanking, spying/stalker behaviour, surveilence, voyerism, unauthorized recording of a sex act, not-great aftercare (he tries), slight dom/sub, the start of a ‘sugar daddy’ arrangement, however no reference to Daddy kink. 

I do not operate a tag list, however please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications. That way you’ll get an alert every time i post anything. Masterlist can be found on AO3 link HERE

Read the Steve Rogers version of this story HERE

Stuck

 Ringing the doorbell, you stood anxiously on the doormat outside the expensive apartment, listening for approaching steps but hearing none. So when the door suddenly opened you let out a tiny yelp of surprise, before taking a deep breath to steady your racing heart;

 “Good afternoon Mr Walker”

 The giant of a man stood in front of you, recognition quickly passing over his face when he saw your uniform of black dress and simple black ballet flats;

 “Oh yes, the maid. C’mon in”

 You worked for a high security housekeeping company, strict controls and stringent background checks as you were contracted to the pentagon and the agents and staff that worked there. You always worked on an ad-hoc basis, only visiting homes when clients or agents requested it. This was however the fourth time cleaning Mr Walker’s apartment, always having to work around suitcases littering the halls and various weapons being cleaned and serviced on the kitchen table. 

 Holding your pail of cleaning supplies you waited as he shut the door, talking at you rather than to you;

 “Okay so here’s what you need to do today; clean the bathroom and kitchen, vacuum the rugs throughout, change the bedding and leave in the laundry hamper”

 You nodded;

 “Sweeping throughout too sir?”

 “No need, the Roomba does the smooth floors, it just can’t get onto the deep pile rugs” he hooked an earbud into one ear; “I’m going out for a run, I’ll be two hours”

 Swallowing nervously you nodded, watching as he hooked the other earbud in and left without another word, leaving you staring at the white wood of the door after he’d closed it. 

 Mr Walker both scared and excited you. A beast of a man, he was all muscle, and each time you had visited he had excused himself so not to be there whilst you were. The fact that he was always in a tank top and running shorts that did nothing to hide any part of him had you stretching your concentration to its limits in order to get your job done and not drift off into a fantasy land that you saved for when you were curled up in your own bed.

 Getting to work you started on the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher with the various dirty crockery that littered the room, cleaning the surfaces, sink, stove. Next up you hit the rugs, working quickly as you vacuumed, before heading to the bathroom. 

 Taking a deep breath you opened the door and relaxed. Cleaning bathrooms for single men were what you always dreaded, but at least as you started to cleanse every surface including the toilet, you realised that Mr Walker thankfully had good aim. Finally it was time for the shower, and as you pulled open the glass door and looked down you let out a shriek; the largest spider you’d ever seen sat in the corner. Grabbing the handled loofah you crept a little closer, letting out a laugh when you saw it wasn’t in fact an arachnid; instead it was a clump of dark hair;

 “Well, the man does have a lot of hair” you muttered to no-one but yourself, thinking about how his chest was covered in a mat of soft hair, exposed in the low neck of his running tank. 

 Half an hour later you wiped your brow on the back of your arm. Mr Walkers bathroom had in fact been a nightmare, the man shed more hair than a fucking German Shepherd. Washing your hands and glancing at your watch, you saw that you had fifteen minutes left of the two hours, taking a deep breath before grabbing the clean linens from the closet.

 Mr Walkers bedroom was white. There was no personalisation, no trinkets. Slipping your ballet flats off you climbed onto the bed, mentally taking in the sheer size of it; it must be a super king if not larger. Your mind immediately went south, imagining Mr Walker fucking on the bed, sprawled out as you straddle his face - you had always wondered what that moustache felt like against your skin - and you ride his tongue, or him pile driving you into the mattress, his hard body pressing against every inch of you as he fills you.

 Moving up the bed you tugged on the sheet, cursing as it wouldn’t pull out from between the mattress and headboard. With a huff you shuffled forward, pushing your hands down between them, tugging on the expensive white cotton. Pushing your arm down a little further you could just about feel that it was caught on something, moving to pull back and then it happened… you were stuck.

 “What the...?” you muttered, realisation hitting you that your watch had slipped into the gap and was now preventing you from pulling your arm out. You could feel your heart rate increasing as you struggled to set yourself free, pulling against the strain but it did little to help.  You pushed and pulled and grunted, hiking your dress up so you could widen your stance on the bed, but nothing worked. You frantically looked around to see the time, yet there wasn’t a clock or display in sight, and you could hardly look at your watch. If you didn’t get out of there soon Mr Walker…

 “Well isn’t this a pretty sight…”

 No. Please no. Oh god no. You screwed your eyes shut, the heat of embarrassment rising to your skin;

 “I’m stuck” you whispered, letting out a yelp when you felt the bed dip behind you, feeling his hands gently resting on your hips;

 “Unfortunate for you, maybe not so for me...”

 -

 Five minutes ago.

 August sat in the small room, staring at the laptop screen in front of him. As ideas went, this was both his best and worst idea yet. Installing hidden security cameras in his apartment had been at first simply for security whilst he was away on missions, but he’d found a secondary use for it once the agency had recommended your employers as a maid service. He hadn’t been expecting someone as pretty as you, you had this look of innocence about you that made him just want to corrupt you and ruin you. He may be a bastard but he wasn’t a heathen, so instead of just turning on the charm offensive he had found an abandoned room in his apartment building and set up a small surveillance center. One with a chair, a laptop, a bottle of lube and a box of tissues. 

 August Walker had just spent the last two hours edging himself as he watched you bend over in that knee length dress, adjusting camera angles to see up your skirt as you bent over. August Walker was one step away from full on pervert. And he had no regrets at all.

 That was until he saw you on his bed, and realised you were trapped. Temptation got the better of him, so stuffing his hard dick back into his running shorts, he quickly left the room and silently made his way back to his apartment. 

 He entered and could smell the pleasant scent of the cleaning fluids you’d used, the quiet grunts as you tried to free yourself from your predicament. Toeing off his sneakers he silently made his way through the hallways, suppressing a groan as he saw you on his bed; ass up face down, the fabric of your dress stretched over the tops of your thighs, the fabric moving as you moved to expose glimpses of your buttocks. He pressed a hand over the obscene bulge in his shorts before moving to the bed.

 -

 “Mr Walker!” you squeaked out in surprise; “You’re back… umm I’m stuck, my watch… I can’t get my wrist back through the gap between the headboard and the mattress”

 “Oh… what a shame. Let me help…”

 You were expecting him to move around you, but instead he covered your body with his own and grasped your arms. Your mind was lost as you took in how his massive hands could completely circle your wrists, the weight of him above you almost suffocating, and when he started to tug you knew you were done for. 

 The gentle rocking of your bodies, rubbing against one another was all it took for a moan to leave your mouth involuntarily, the feeling of his hard dick rutting against the crease of your ass making you embarrassingly wet almost instantly. He grunted above you;

 “Huh, well that didn’t work…”

 Pushing himself up he knelt behind you, still pressing his hard-on against your ass as his hands gripped your hips and he tugged gently, however all he did was pull you back against his crotch;

 “This fabric is slippery, hang on a second…”

 Pressing your head to the bed you felt him flip your skirt up, hearing a sharp intake of breath behind you as he took in the bright red thong you were wearing beneath your dress. His warm hands smoothed over your buttocks before gripping onto your hips and half-heartedly tugging again. 

 It was no good, you were too turned on to even object. You’d lusted after your client for weeks, and now you found yourself in this predicament which it was obvious he had no intention of helping you with, but instead had other ideas that you had no desire to object to. You were rocking back against his dick, the quiet moans escaping your throat telling him you were more than into it, so when you felt his fingers curl around the elastic of your underwear and tug them down to your mid-thigh, all you could do was arch your back and present your pussy for his inspection. 

 Thick fingers parted your folds, teasing your nectar to your aching clit where a thumb rubbed hard circles against the sensitive bud. His other hand was lost from you for a moment and you could feel him moving, before you felt the thwack of his heavy dick against your ass. 

 With your hand trapped and your body stretched out you could barely look over your shoulder, but when you did you could see the impressive bulk of your clients body towering over you, the sight making your cunt clench with anticipation.

 “Excited, are we?”

 “Please Mr Walker…”

 “Please what?” You moaned and his quiet chuckle filled the room; “You gotta say it”

 “Please fuck me”

 “Eager little thing, aren’t we?”

 “Please…”

 “Well, as you asked so nicely…”

 He took hold of his dick and dragged the bulbous tip through your folds, dousing himself with your juices before lining himself up with your entrance. When you felt him push just the tip inside you it felt like you were being split open, he must be as thick as your wrist, and as he continued to force his way into your body it felt like he was the length of your forearm.

 “Such a good little slut, taking my dick…” his voice filled your senses as your body fought to relax and allow him deeper, your juices running down your legs where he would rock back and forth to lubricate his girth before pushing another punishing inch in to you. 

 Your velvet walls parted yet gripped him tight, and you could feel every ridge, bump and vein as he started to fuck your tight pussy. With every pull and push your head swam, your body moving back to meet his thrusts as his massive hands gripped onto your hips and he started to slam into you harder and harder. When his hand came down onto your ass the loud smack surprised you just as much as the pain, but you arched your back even more like a bitch in heat. 

 He reached beneath you, tugging at the neckline of your dress with both hands, before the seam of the collar broke and the soft jersey stretched enough for him to tug the fabric down. His fingers caught in the lace cups of your bra, and whilst still plunging deep into you from behind, he was able to let your titties swing free and he grabbed a handful;

 “Such pretty tits. Next time you clean I want you in just your underwear so I can watch them swing. Might get you scrubbing the floors so I can see you bent over and ready for me”

 You shuddered at his words, he already paid a premium for your services, and the electronic tip that he’d sent through had been more than generous, the last visit alone you had been surprised by the triple figures, but more than grateful that you were able to pay the bills.

 His hands had found their way back to your ass, smoothing over the soft skin as he continued to fuck you, the wide ridge that ran along the underside of his length rubbing so beautifully against your g-spot, you were sure you were going to cum soon. 

 He pulled your cheeks apart and you felt him spit on your asshole, the warm liquid pooling for a moment before his thumb started to rub insistently over the brown rose. Burying your head in the soft sheets you allowed your body to relax as he breached your back door with his thumb, the wide digit stretching you as he pushed in as far as he could;

 “This ass is incredible. I can’t wait to fuck it”

 You let out a tiny yelp at the idea of trying to fit his massive cock in your ass;

 “Mr Walker!”

 “Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll make sure you’re stretched out first. Might want to add a plug to the uniform list for next time, make sure you’re ready lubed and stretched for me. But don’t you worry your pretty little head, this time I’m just going to cum deep in this sweet pussy of yours. Are you on birth control? Are you ripe?”

 You hadn’t even considered birth control. Your insurance had stopped covering you a couple of years back, so when you had gone on the occasional date that had ended up between the sheets, you’d simply resorted to condoms;

 “No… no…”

 “Oh yes. I’m going to cum deep inside you, let my seed rest within your womb. God, I’d love to see your belly round with my child, I bet your tits would be even more impressive. Hmmn yes, that’s fucking perfect…”

 You hadn’t thought it possible, but all that he said was turning you on even more, and it wasn’t just you that liked the idea, you could feel him swell within you, his girth growing thicker as his arousal grew. The added stretch was driving you closer and closer to your own orgasm, the dual stimulations of your pussy and ass both being filled had you trembling with need.

 “Are you going to cum for me?” his voice was hoarse and dry, an edge of desperation to it too; “I’m close, gonna shoot my load in you soon. You’d better cum before I do ‘cos once I’m done I’m pulling out and will leave you dripping with my seed and on edge…”

 The threat of being left on the precipice was enough to push your body over the edge, cumming hard as your body held him so tight he thought he wouldn’t be able to pull out. The vice like grip had him throwing his head back as your body milked him, his own orgasm ripping through his body that he came with a roar and a string of expletives. 

 -

 August wasn’t sure if he had ever cum that hard before, but the way your body gripped him so tight he was in no doubt that your pussy was the best he’d ever had - and he’d had a lot - and he knew without a doubt that he was not going to let anyone else ever come near it again.

 As he slowed his thrusts and let you work through the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, he mentally checked off all the things he’d been checking up on; from the details of your financials, your family and education, your social media. He had seen all of them. He had your phone tapped and knew that he was going to be installing spy cameras in your apartment… that was until you agreed to be his. 

 Looking down at your ass he pulled his thumb out of your now loosened asshole, making sure to catch the way it winked as he recorded on his phone, having pulled that out of his pocket soon after he’d started and had recorded himself defiling your body. Giving your ass a smack he relished how the camera picked up the jiggle as the force rippled through you, before grasping a large handful of ass as he pulled out and watched his cum pool at your entrance, before pushing it back in with two thick fingers. Tugging your underwear up your legs from where they had settled around your knees, he made sure the flimsy red mesh covered your hole, quickly getting soaked with his seed as he pushed the fabric against the mess to fully coat it. 

 Finally he shut his phone off and reached towards the headboard, giving it a tug and feeling it lift, watching as you silently pulled your hand free before collapsing on the bed. He carefully unbuckled your wristwatch before rubbing at the sore skin, easing away the chafed skin. He set your hand down carefully and quickly left the room, returning a moment later with a glass of water and holding it to your lips as he helped you sit up. 

 Setting the empty glass on the side, he rubbed your back before attempting to fix your torn collar, finally giving up. He swiped a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the mascara tear stains;

 “Next week you’ll need to be in your underwear and heels. Make sure the plug is well lubricated. I’ll have everything delivered to your address”

 You went to object, to question how he would even know, but then realised… CIA… of course he knew. You pushed yourself to the edge of the bed, finding your shoes and slipping your feet in, standing on wobbly legs as he spoke again.

 “Do as I ask and I’ll let you stay the night so I can fuck your other two holes as well”

 Turning you nodded;

 “Yes Mr Walker”

 “Oh, you can call me Sir now” he turned to leave the room before waving his finger at the pile of fresh linen still folded at the end of the bed; “Remember to finish up before you leave”

 He left the room without another word. You went to object, but just as you did you felt the phone in your pocket vibrate. Quickly checking it your eyebrows practically shot off the top of your head, seeing the tip transfer come through for $2000. Biting your lip, your thumb hovered over the accept/decline buttons, the moral dilemma tearing your mind in two.

 -

 In the hallway August watched his phone. He could see that you’d received the notification of the tip. When he saw your action on the app he smiled and slid the phone back into his pocket, already planning your next visit.

Part 2 >>>

#august walker #august walker smut #august walker x reader #henry cavill #august walker x you

[jayeray-hq]

How He Shows You Affection: Sakusa Kiyoomi

Timeskip/Manga Spoilers

Warnings: mentions of phobia and panic attacks, barely hinted NSFW

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

Big thanks to the amazing Tay from Haikyuu Headquarters @deathcab4daddy​ who beta read for me, and told me to tag @dymphnasprose​ in this!

He Takes the Hardest Chores

             You and Sakusa stared in muted horror at the mess that had once been your immaculate kitchen. The whole thing had started that morning when you’d noticed water leaking from under your sink as you were getting ready to go to work. Sakusa had already left for practice, so you’d been forced to stay behind and call into work late as you tried to get ahold of your apartment management and maintenance people.

You’d managed to get a large bucket under it, and had been assured by management that it would be taken care of. Thus, you’d left for work, though not before leaving a message for your germophobic boyfriend who would definitely need to know, that not only had a pipe under the sink leaked, but that you’d had to let someone into the apartment so they could fix it.

             Naturally he hated whenever anyone he didn’t know intruded on his space, it made him incredibly antsy and anxious, which in turn made him act incredibly grumpy, not that you could blame him. You understood his fear was just that, a fear, and you did your best to understand and accommodate, the same way he did his best to never lash out at you and work through his fear.

             Thus, you’d known without having to say that you’d probably have to do a deep clean of your apartment when you got home from work and he got home from practice, in order for him to feel safe again. You were more than prepared for it, and had even stopped at the store to pick up a couple refills for cleaning supplies you thought you might’ve been running low on in his favorite brands.

             The small detour had meant you arrived home at the same time he did, and though he didn’t look happy at all, he had brightened a bit and even given you a masked kiss to the cheek in greeting when he saw you carrying your supplies. However, you were fairly sure that little bit of good mood had plummeted the minute the two of you had laid eyes on the kitchen.

             Management had called you while you were at work to assure you everything was fixed, but had warned you that it wasn’t their job to clean up the mess. You’d acknowledged that, it was actually written into your contract with the apartment complex and had been one of the terms your boyfriend had been incredibly insistent about as he wanted absolutely no one in your apartment cleaning without permission.

             However, you couldn’t help the swell of indignation in your chest as you stared at the brackish puddles of water, and clear muddy shoe prints all over the nice hardwood, along with the standing buckets of water, your nice kitchen rugs clearly left to soak in the disgusting mire on your floor. Yes, you’d agreed to do the clean-up, but at the very least they could’ve told you how bad it was, and whoever the repair person had been, could’ve cleaned up after themselves, which they obviously hadn’t if the black handprints on your sink and some of your cupboards meant anything. That wasn’t even touching on the smell, which wreaked of rotten things.

             If you’d known about this you would’ve left work early to come home to try to clean things up, that or you never would’ve left in the first place in order to keep an eye on things. As it was, it was very clear to you that several things were ruined and would have to be thrown out, and the whole place aired out.

             A quick glance at your boyfriend showed that he’d gone very white behind his mask, his eyes fixated on the mess, his breathing a little shallow, in a way that made you worry he was about to start hyperventilating.

             “Kiyoomi?” you prompted gently, wondering if you needed to gently guide him away, get him out of the apartment before the whole thing got to be too much and he had a panic attack.

             His dark eyes immediately snapped over to you, and he let out a long slow breath, clearly trying to gather himself. You remained quiet, and let him do what he needed to do, knowing better than to touch him in moments like these, as that only made it worse, but also keeping your eyes on his, as he’d told you before that doing that helped keep him grounded.

             “Do you need to leave Kiyoomi?” you asked him gently, “You can step out for an hour, go pick up dinner or something and I can get started? It will be better when you get back I promise.”

             “No,” he snapped immediately, the tone harsh and vicious enough to make you flinch, your eyes widening a bit in surprise.

             “You go get dinner, and I’ll clean this… this… catastrophe,” he ordered a clear grimace of distaste on his face despite the mask he was still wearing, his dark eyes a little wild, clearly unsettled.

             “That’s alright Kiyoomi,” you assured him, still gentle, “I don’t mind.”

             “I mind,” he informed you, taking several deep breaths and clearly trying to keep himself calm, “I don’t want you to get dirty. You shouldn’t have to touch this disgusting filth.”

             Your heart immediately softened despite the clear disgust in his voice. Most people didn’t realize, but Sakusa was actually fairly protective of the people he cared for. It apparently even extended far enough to the point where despite how afraid and disgusted he was he would rather deal with it himself, rather than have you, who he saw as infinitely precious, deal with it.

             “You shouldn’t have to deal with it either, Kiyoomi,” you told him, unable to keep the affection from your tone for your boyfriend, who was sweet in his own way, “We’ll do it together alright? And after that we can throw our clothes in the laundry and take a nice clean shower.”

             He looked at you, intently for several seconds, clearly wanting to protest, but in the end his shoulders slumped, clearly both relieved and resigned, and the two of you set to work. However, you quickly noticed that despite working together it was very clear he was taking the hardest, grossest parts of your task.

             You only tried to protest once, but he refused to listen, giving you a very pointed look that spoke volumes about how very much he didn’t want you to have to touch what he was doing before going back to work. It took the two of you a good couple hours to get everything cleaned to the level that he found acceptable, and by the end both of you were tired, hungry and dirty.

             However, as you stepped into the shower, you couldn’t bring yourself to complain or feel unhappy about it, not when he’d clearly gone out of his way to make things easier for you, when he’d tried so very hard to protect you despite his own fears. Instead you felt warm, and incredibly loved, and resolved to use this time before dinner to ensure he felt the same.

 He Fusses Over You

             “Here,” your boyfriend told you, handing you a small pack of hand sanitizer, clearly never opened, travel sized and ready to go.

             “Thanks, Kiyoomi,” you told him with a small amused smile, tucking it into your purse, along with the three other small bottles he’d handed you within the last couple hours.

             “Don’t forget you have to use it before and after security,” he told you, his dark brows furrowed with worry, a small crease appearing between the two moles on his forehead as he watched you with concerned dark eyes.

             “I will,” you assured him, reaching out carefully, and touching your gloved hands to his. He immediately accepted the touch, twining your fingers together, and squeezing, clearly incredibly anxious.

             You knew he absolutely hated when you had to travel, and it was even worse when you had to travel without him. Usually you’d be going with him and the team, but this time work meant you had to leave before he could, the tournament not finished until tomorrow, which meant going on your own. You honestly thought sometimes that he might even hate the fact that you had to travel even more than the fact that he had to travel, especially if you had to take shared transit.

             Planes in particular were something he hated with a passion, referring to them as ‘flying petri dishes’ and ‘cesspits of bacteria and disease’ and you on a plane was one of his worst nightmares for that exact reason. It meant he went out of his way to ensure you had everything you might need to keep yourself safe, and always bought you two first class tickets even when he wasn’t travelling with you, so you could have your row of seats all to yourself without fear of contamination.

             “You have your extra masks?” he fretted quietly, “And your wipes?”

             “I do,” you assured him tenderly, hoping to ease his fears even as your heart melted at how very much he cared and wanted to keep you safe, “And I have extra pairs of gloves, and tissues too.”

             “I’ll make sure I decontaminate right away when I get home, and I’ll call you to let you know I’ve gotten there safe alright?” you assured him as the attendant called for boarding.

             “Okay,” he told you, releasing a breath that was a bit shaky, as he searched your eyes, “Be safe okay?”

             “I will,” you assured him tenderly, a little surprised but not protesting as he gently pressed his forehead to yours, an affectionate gesture the two of you had developed in place of kissing or hugs since he almost always wore a mask in public and didn’t feel comfortable with too much pda.

             “I love you,” you told him quietly, “Have a good last game, and I’ll be waiting when you come home.”

             “I love you too,” he answered just as quietly, reluctantly letting go of your hands and pulling back, letting you join the queue of people lining up to board.

             You gave him one last smile over your shoulder before boarding the plane, taking your seat at the very front and as far from others as you could get. Sitting down with your purse in your lap, you dug through hoping to find your phone to let him know you were seated. You sent him one last I love you text, unable to keep the smile off your lips as you realized he’d somehow managed to sneak one more bottle of hand sanitizer into your purse when you weren’t looking, and unable to feel anything but completely and utterly loved.

 He Touches You

             You’d known from the beginning that Sakusa was a complete and utter germaphobe, and that a relationship with him wasn’t going to be easy, especially since the thought of touching people skin on skin was something that truly frightened him. A lot of people made jokes about his fear, which always made you frown in disapproval, mostly because while it may seem ridiculous and stupid to them, it was very real to him.

             Most people held hands easily after their first date, might even expect to be kissed or hugged, an arm around the waist or shoulders, a gentle hand on their face or arm. That wasn’t you, and with Sakusa you were well aware it would never be you.

             It took over a month for Sakusa to feel comfortable holding your hand, and that was only if you were both wearing gloves, and only if you let him know ahead of time that you’d like to do so. Touching him in any way required forethought and clear consent in order to ensure his comfort, and to keep him from panicking.

             It was hard, incredibly so, and you inevitably messed up a couple of times, but he always forgave you even when your touch was enough to make him panic or tremble. The same way you always forgave him for hastily dashing to the nearest sink to wash himself clean or pulling out a bottle of hand sanitizer to clean himself off.

             However, it was worth it, he was worth it, because you knew how very hard he was working on it, that he didn’t actually think you as a person were disgusting, just the germs you might accidentally carry on your skin, and that he really did want to touch you. He loved you and desperately wanted to give you the things he knew you wanted, so he worked on it, day by day and bit by bit he fought his fears for you.

             The day he’d managed to reach for your hand first, with no glove in sight, the skin of his palm against yours and his fingers carefully twining into your grip, you’d nearly cried. You knew how much he’d worked for it, and how much he must love you to manage it, and in turn the gesture had felt incredibly intimate.

             Yes, most normal couples would brush it off as something silly, or meaningless, but to the two of you, it meant everything. You knew there would be people who would scoff at your relationship, which moved slower than a snail’s pace, but for the two of you, every step forward was a battle won, every brush of skin on skin without flinching was a triumph and a blatant display of how very much Sakusa loved you.

             And you treasured each and every moment of it. After all, who else could say that their boyfriend battled their worst fears just to be with them? Who else had a boyfriend who loved them so much they were willing to do whatever it took to give them what they wanted?

             What you had with Sakusa was incredibly intimate and precious, and you didn’t care what anyone else said. It wasn’t your fault they took each and every touch for granted, but looking into his dark eyes, as he gently traced your lips with a bare elegant finger an expression of wonder and deep affection on his face, you promised yourself that you never would.

#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa love #sakusa fluff #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa drabble #sakusa imagines #love sakusa #how he shows you affection #JayeRayWrites #haikyuu!! #haikyu imagines #haikyu fluff #haikyū!!

[milky-maid-library]

Chapter 2: Dis aliter visum

Chapter Summary: Elizabeth wakes up in the Institute and learns quickly how they treat the patients with the help of new friends.

Please read these Warning tags: 18+, child abandonment, mentions of abuse, references to racism. Forced rehabilitation.

Notes: Dis aliter visum means “Fate had different plans” and this is a gift for @cursedcursingviking​

It was just darkness, a never ending black that Elizabeth was vaguely conscious to, wondering if she’d ever awaken. The sensation of floating was ruined as her body fell and kept falling, hitting her hard away on a uncomfortable mattress. A ripping breath of air tore her to sit up, sweat had soaked her skin, hair and the softness around her. Her palm pressed into her chest trying to control the painful stabs of her pounding heart. Eyes darted around the room, discovering she was no longer in the hospital. She was in a cubicle space. The bed she was sweating on was surrounded by three walls and a curtain, no roof… she swallowed down her hard before hesitantly climbing ontop the mattress and peering over the walls. She discovered a larger room, a grand hall almost. Rows of cubicles filled with single and bunk beds surrounded the area. She counted at least thirty cubicles that she could see.

All the beds were eerily empty, she was so alone, it felt cold. As she climbed down her mattress, she noticed the shapeless dress she was wearing and tennis shoes. The ugliest green puke colour, patterned with long sleeves and high neck buttons. And on her wrist was a shiny permanent metal wrist band with her name, date of birth and blood status carved into it. She felt unable to breathe, it was the middle of spring, it was starting to get hotter! Her fingers ripped open her neck collar, letting her breath.

And as she rolled up her sleeves the curtain ripped back to the image of a wrinkly faced nun….

“Good Morning,” she smiled cynically, her blue eyes icy cold, “Would you like some breakfast?”

She was something crossed between a Delores Umbridge and a testy crow.

Elizabeth was skeptical, scared and definitely fleetly looking for an escape. She couldn’t remember where they’d taken her except that it was a correctional facility. If she managed to look around for a exit it would be in her favour especially since she was sure she hadn’t eaten anything in the last twenty four hours almost.

“Come on now then girl,” the shrewd woman snapped and flicked her hand, “don’t dawdle.”

Elizabeth was quickly on her tail. Her thighs rubbed together and as she walked she knew right away that her underwear was not her own. It made her want to vomit. As the nun lead her out of the hall of beds, they trailed down a hall of doctor’s and nurses offices and rooms filled with kitchens, laundry rooms, art supplies and fake nurseries.

They passed a great symbol painted into the wall. A depiction of a pregnant woman cradling the Omega symbol in her arms while she wore a large smile and a blindfold to cover her eyes.

You and me too lady, Elizabeth inwardly smirked. It wasn’t hard to figure out she was in ‘Saint Selene’s School For Adolescent Omega’.

And then her heart fell when they passed a window. She could see outdoors. She did not see a single building other than the facilities; she saw a grand distance of trees and mountains…but that was not what took away her breath. A fence, a tall and long fence barred her in this place, the tops wrapped with barbed wire.

This place was just a pretty prison.

When she stopped and stared at the fence, she almost broke into sobs. The nun scolded her and tugged her away by her shoulder. She was currently dragged to twin doors and welcomed the vision of three massive tables where over a dozen girls sat and ate their food. They all suddenly stopped, all their loud chatter dying down to whispers and finger pointing.

The woman in the habit grinned at them all who stared at them, “Girls,” she announced shrilly, “I’d like to introduce a new member to our blessed home, Miss Elizabeth Hillard.”

Her claws unleashed her shoulder and gestured to the tables, a bowl of porridge seemed to miraculously sit in her hands, passing it to her, fuck I must be really drugged up, she didn’t always have that with her did she?

“Well then…” the nun said, “Why don’t you find a seat?” and walked off the moment Elizabeth looked for an empty space. As she paced down the aisles, not a single girl looked at her welcomingly. They gave her glares and whispers of “Her hair is so untamed, so un-omega.” And “She looks dirty and smells wild, bad omega, don’t talk to her.”

Elizabeth almost cried then and there when she noticed there was no one that was like her there. Only pale racist bitches….until she noticed a blonde girl, around her age, skinny as a rake curling her fingers for her to come closer.

“Hey new girl,” she laughed, “sit with us.”

By that point she didn’t care if she was alone, but the chance of an invite wouldn’t be ignored when she came to such an ominous place. When she sat beside the girl she understood that the other four with her were her friends.  

Chewing her lip, Elizabeth whispered to them, “Are...you all Omegas?”

Chatter of the other tables increased. The skinny girl cackled meanly and regarded to her and her friends, “Nah, Kylie’s an Alpha elf and Gen is a beta pixie and I’m an eleven fingered witch.” She smartly said wiggling her only ten digits. The other girls giggled and snickered crudely.

“Okay,” Elizabeth rolled her eyes and leant back to leave, “‘yes’ would’ve been suffice.” Before another girl piped up over the gossiping crowds.

“What’s got you so hot new girl?” she winked her green eyes and flickered her ginger hair, “Didn’t like the results?” w

Sitting back Elizabeth stirred her cold porridge, mumbling, “I was meant to be an Alpha. But I’m now just a stupid Omega.”

“Easy with the mean words there, new girl,” snapped the girl with a toothpick between her teeth, “Did you think we chose to be Omega?”

Ouch, she never really took in account of Omega’s opinions growing up, knowing they would be the lowest of the low; she just assumed they enjoyed the thought of making babies.

Elizabeth flinched, a new side-effect of being an omega she suspected, “Sorry…”

“Hey, we get it,” The skinny girl scratched her blonde head, “Besides from what we heard, your parents abandoned you here? Talk of the town in here with the gossiping sisters. So you’ll be spending time with us during the summer break while all the other girls go home.”

Elizabeth blinked. Her parents really had abandoned her? After all these years of supposed unconditional love, they sent her away because of a gene she couldn’t control. She rubbed her eyes before any tears could fall. she didn’t feel like looking like a weakling in front of these girls.

“How many stay behind?”

“Including you?” she replied automatically, “Six.”

“Kylie,” she said pointing at a girl who was cleaning her nails and, her lips looked unnaturally dark pink against her olive skin. Her smock was the only one that looked nice on her. It fitted. Everyone’s looked too loose of too tight…

“Gen,” she then gestured to the smallest girl in the group, she had a soft face and full cheeks, bright eyes surrounded by round glasses and appeared the most excited to meet her despite not speaking a single word. She was closest appearance to a black girl compared to Elizabeth, but her loose hair and lighter skin with European features had her sceptical.

“Chip,” the finger directed to the green-eyed winking redhead with a hooked nose.

“Pepper,” was the most intimidating presence. Her eyes were deeply set in, her face was hard and sculpted with a sharp jaw, her teeth might’ve been yellow but that didn’t take away the message her toothpick gave. Her biceps were visible enough beneath the dress, Elizabeth wonder where her other muscles would be and how the hell did she get them? Down from her cheek to her chin, crossing over her lips was a nasty scar. Her short black hair was a poor haircut but that didn’t take away the threatening look she had.

“and me, I’m Legs.”

Out of almost a hundred girls, six remained? The rest had homes and families who cared and loved them. And even though she had a home…they didn’t love her enough to allow her back…her home was now these cold walls and sanitised floors.

She took a bite of her porridge and had little strength to swallow it. They all laughed at her screwed-up face and Chip slapped the table. Chip, Pepper….Legs?

“Are those your real names?” she heaved before pushing the bowl away.

“Fuck no,” Pepper huffed, “but it’s what we call eachother.”

The smallest, Gen proclaimed happily, “After living here for so long we tend to get a nickname.”

The longer she listened, the more she truly felt the ideals of a prison being inflicted….bad food, nicknames, solitary, uniforms.

“How long have you all been here?” Elizabeth looked around the table seeing their curious glances. She held hope, maybe after the summer her parents would gather their senses, she could manage 3 months.

“I have been here the longest,” said Legs, “Turned twenty, four months ago and I was dropped off when I was around seven, that was when they took in this age group. Now little ones go to ‘Camp Neoma for youngling Omega youth’.”

Gen tugged her sleeve and told Elizabeth, “Chip and I were dropped off within weeks of eachother when we were ten, now we’re eighteen, Pepper who’s nineteen got here two years ago.”

Chip wrapped her thick arm around Kylie who rolled her eyes while she chuckled, “And none of us are leaving this place unless we are twenty-one or if our parents come back to take us in. Kylie will be the first to leave since she got here at fifteen and she’ll be turning twenty-one in three months.”

“Absolute abandonment,” Kylie grinned while the rest of them giggled. It seemed they were excited for her freedom, but it only laid heavy on her mind, how long am I going to be forced to stay here?

Her throat tightened while tears accidently fell from her lashes….absolute abandonment… her parents were already there. Within seconds she wiped them up and looked to the ceiling, attempting to rub her eye and pretend it was just dirt in her eyes.

“So small fry,” Pepper prodded her with her spoon, “How old are you?”

“I um…I turned nineteen a month ago.”

“Damn it,” Gen whined, “I’m still the youngest.”

Kylie pulled in the smallest Omega and laid a kiss on her forehead, a fine lip mark appeared between the girl’s eyes. She then started to braid her hair and fix her collar, like a big sister… or a girlfriend. They kissed again, but on the lips before Chip jabbed Gen in the side and gestured to the nerving nuns stalk around the tables. They glared like starved hawks. When Elizabeth turned to look she could feel the unpleasantness of the dresses they were all wearing.

“D-do we have to wear these?” Elizabeth squirmed, scratching the back of her neck and her arms. Her bracelet was incredibly cold against her skin and whenever she moved it stung. Her senses to the new life had increased and she loathed every second.

“Yep,” Legs said, laying back, “Don’t worry, you grow used to it.  I mean you don’t have to choose, and stress about what you’re going to wear.”

Elizabeth didn’t want to get used to it, she wanted cotton, denim jeans or at least her own fucking underwear.  She shuddered, who even dressed her?

“Kylie suffered the harshest,” Gen giggled into Kylie’s shoulder. Kylie was running her fingers through her hair, attempting a perfect part. The two were soft, and borderline nauseating for her, yet the Omega in her yearned for some part of being looked after in a relationship.

Elizabeth figured she hadn’t stayed long enough to earn a title, but doing the math, surely…why did they all have them but, “Why don’t you have a nickname?”

“Kylie is my nickname,” she smirked and held out her polished hands, “My real name is Hannah, but I used to watch the Kardashians and reality tv like TLC religiously girl,” she whispered while a nun walked passed Elizabeth, “I have the best fashion sense out of everyone here including those guards.”

Elizabeth saw the hate in all their eyes, as their friend Legs explained, “Don’t trust any of the nurses or doctors, those fuckers act nice, but shit depending on your plan you’ll find out what kind of concentration camp this is.”

By all they’d told her, she was sure this was an official prison and with the sight of the fence that sent her into chills she accepted and agreed this was a place of hell.

“So….Legs?” Elizabeth dragged.

“We call Saddie ‘Legs’ since she’s the fastest,” Chips jerked her head to the side, “she’s gotten out, beyond the fence.”

Remembering back to the height and threatening barbed wire atop, Elizabeth’s eyes widened, “You’ve gotten out!?”

“Escaped and caught,” Legs chuckled proudly, fluffing her hair.

“…eleven goddamn times,” Pepper smirked, and sighed with a grimacing smile, “All to see some dumb fucking Alpha at Portia’s Penitentiary for Male Adolescent Alpha’s.”

Elizabeth gawked and kept think about the fence, if they could help her get out...but suddenly her head was spinning around, “I didn’t know Alphas had an institute,” she mumbled. What if she was an Alpha she could’ve still been thrown into an institution if her parents didn’t support her.

“They mostly put the boys who’ve tried to rape from their incontrollable restraints of their hormones and immunity to the basic suppressants you can buy at the counter,” Kylie explained.

“Except Isaac!” Legs defended, “He’s never raped anyone…he just…gets uncontrollably kinky and horny. Like me.”

Elizabeth gawked.

“Nasty slut,” Chips teased poking her tongue at Legs.

Legs scoffed, “Bitch.”

“Girls!” befell a booming tone, a deep solemn voice that had the hairs on the back of Elizabeth’s neck rising, “I hope I’m not hearing foul language being said in front of our new resident.” Prisoner. His thick hand curled onto of her shoulder, heavy and solidly threatening. She bit her lip, don’t interact.

“Hey Doc H!” Legs laughed “Nah,” and threw him a low high-five, she wiped her nose and shrugged while she warranted, “We’re just laying down the rules to the new girl…Like curfew…”

C-curfew?!

“Oh really?” he hummed staring at her.

“Yeah, good ol’ eight o’clock curfew for a four o’clock rise.”

The doctor laughed his head tilting back a slight.

Four o’clock? What the fuck is this place, the military?! This is undoubtedly a prison, Jesus!

“How’s our new resident feeling?” he asked, smiling down at Elizabeth.

She turned and held him in a might glare, her viperous tongue spat “How every girl feels being forced into an asylum without her consent, trapped and imprisoned.”

His smile did not faulter and that was something powerful…it stabbed her in the chest. He was not easily tempted to anger? Maybe she’d have to find another pen…He blinked and nodded slowly, that sickening, stomach dropping grin still on his face.

The silence was cold and the other girls shared side glances, even the other tables fell quieter to listen in.

“Docter H, what have you been up to lately,” Pepper commented brightly, the layer of dimmed joy grew back, “we haven’t seen you for so long!”

“Yeah, well I’m happy to tell you that I’ll be hanging around you more often. Oh and I got you something,” he bent down and whispered, “but I’ll give them to you tonight before lights out.”

He said something into Pepper’s ear and left, a giant smile stretched onto her lips. Like the cat that got the cream.  

Walking away Elizabeth leant back in her chair with a relaxed sigh, “Finally,”

“What’s wrong,” Legs murmured, “You and Doc H got bad chemistry or something?”

“He’s the asshole that put me here…” Elizabeth hissed.

“If he’s just an asshole, god help us from the other nurses and doctors, feral dogs they are. Doc H is doing his job but at least he makes time to make us feel human instead of just ‘Omega breeding stock and future wives’. You can’t trust any of the doctors in here, but he’s the least threatening.”

Threatening?!

Suddenly a whistle blew ear splittingly. Within seconds everyone was picking up their plates and standing up, walking from their tables. Shoving away from the table the five girls of the group rose from their seats.

“C’mon,” Elizabeth felt a tap on her arm, “grubs over,” Legs grinned, “how’s your skills at washing clothes?”

She collected her own plate of food and followed the other girls to rows of bins to shove them into…

“It’s not that hard,” Elizabeth finally smiled, “You just chuck it into the washing machine and then the dryer.”

But when her new found friends started to all laugh together she felt a wind of dread…were they not washing clothes?

The steam of the hot water filled the air and entered every ladies lungs as the worked tiredly. The steam would creep up to the ceiling and slip out the cracks in the walls and the barely opened windows. Big bath tubs filled the room, water hot to touch. Drenched bedsheets, and uniforms were piled and soaked in the tubs. The soap was churned into the clothes and sheets with wooden dolly sticks that were heavy and hard to use. This was it….scrubbing clothes clean. Blisters becgan to form quickly onto Elizabeth’s soft hands. When one popped, she hissed in pain and barked with furious frustration, “Ugh mother fucker!”

The Nuns sitting down ‘supervising’ with canes by their sides were quick in action.

“Is something wrong Elizabeth?” The most patient questioned.

“Yea,” Elizabeth threw down the stirring tool and yelled, “This is fucking slave labour!” folding her arms defiantly she jerked her chin to the herself and the other girls who paused from their obedient actions, watching these events, “What’s next?” she wiped her sweaty face, “Cotton Picking?!”

“Miss Hillard!” gasped an older, intimidating nun who was red in the face and wide in the waist, “I would prefer you wouldn’t use such unladylike language in front of others.” She tapped the edge of the tub with her cane and stomped her foot, “This is standard Omega training, learning the basic training is essential for the life you will lead.” The cane was then poked at Elizabeths chest.

She slapped it away from as quickly as it dared settled, “Just because my chromosomes got meddled with, doesn’t mean I should hand wash. When I leave I plan to pay people to wash my clothes at the laundromat, like a normal person.”

Now Elizabeth could hear the girls around her make the same comments again, “bad omega”, “Disrespectful”, “Dirty”, “Lazy Omega”, “No one wants an Omega like her.”

And instead of feeling the senses to cry, she gritted her teeth and tightened her hands into fists. The nun mimicked her actions as she spat, “I will not tolerate your tone or disobedience. If you don’t wish to participate in today’s activities you can conduct hall duty.”

In the corner of her eye she could see Chips shaking her head while she mouthed the word “no”…But how could hall duty be worse than this? It’s just making sure people are not in the halls without passes and permission!

Hall duty? A blessing! Great heaven you are good! She would said confidently, “Anything but this…”

#tw: abuse #alpha beta omega #dark fic #asylum #abusive nuns #tw racism #tw forced labour #Henry cavill x original female character #Henry Cavill x original black female character #Henry Cavill x black female character #POC character #ao3 #archive of our own

[dontcallmecarrie]

screw it, this “too many options that all sound appealing” thing is really messing with my rhythm so here, outlines for Endings 1-3. Major spoilers inbound, read at your own risk.

Ending 1: Stay With The Original Plan

canon ensues on Loki’s side, aka he falls right into Thanos’ clutches. [Un]fortunately for him, Thanos is even more pissy than in canon, since ‘his love’ is MIA and he’s hyperfocused on assembling the Infinity Gauntlet under the belief that this’ll be what finally gets her to say yes

somewhere in here, Loki realizes that this is the purple bastard Hela kept telling him about. Just to make this entire experience even more hellish, because having to listen to Thanos talk is more torture than the torture. 

optional, probably won't write: at some point, Thanos asks Loki for dating advice. Which’d go about as well as expected.

Meanwhile, Asgard, Earth, and just about everywhere in between has their hands full now that Helheim is empty and all of its demons are having a field day.

somewhere during the chaos, Fenrir breaks his binds and steals the Aether on the way out. 

cue potential alternate antagonist to make the Avengers assemble. Surtur, perhaps, for maximum irony because...

Jörmungandr wakes up just in time to see Hela bust out of Helheim, and immediately invites her to come with him. Fenrir joins the club when he gets out, too, and cue minor time skip as they all catch up and help each other reacclimatize to living outside of a glorified prison/the modern world. 

okay, from here, there’s two further endings I’d be having to pick between.

Option A:

shit goes down when Loki shows up.

The Avengers assemble, and get not one, not two, but five Asgardians crashing the party on the Helicarrier.

turns out one of them’s an ancient sorcerer who’s been camping out on Earth over the past thousand years and influencing some of their myths. Somehow, this isn’t the weirdest part.

a lot of dirty laundry gets aired in a very short period of time, aka the Avengers get a front-row seat to the shitshow that is the Asgardian royal family and Thor’s respect for his father tanks. 

The local sorcerer is the one who figures out Loki’s being mind-controlled, and Hela is royally pissed off when she finds out who’s responsible. 

well, actually, that’s not entirely accurate: when they find out Loki’s condition, nobody takes it well, and since some of the people in the room were basically used as living weapons for the better part of a millennia, well...

RIP, Thanos. 

[insert family reunion and happy ending here, probably]

Option B: 

[insert antagonist name here] shows up, Avengers assemble.

Cue confusion when an alien trio beats them to the punch, feat. a fuck-off huge wolf, a goth chick who keeps throwing swords [seriously, where is she even getting them from?], and a honest-to-goodness wizard. 

Cue even more confusion when Thor recognizes them as Loki’s friends, and then a lot of stuff goes down very fast when he finds out that they’re famous on Earth— because they’re prophesied to bring about Ragnarok, the fall of Asgard. 

[insert drama here]

Fenrir, Hela, and Jörmungandr quasi-joining the Avengers? Not as impossible as it sounds. 

Thanos shows up looking for the Infinity Stones. Hela oneshots him, and maybe brings him back to life just to kill him again when they find out what he did to Loki.

cue happy ending.

Ending 2: All The Angst And Dramatic Irony [feat. Major Character Death]

this one’d make it all a tragedy, and I hate making myself sad and also I didn’t tag for major character death, so that’s already two strikes against it but my brain can’t let it go so here goes:

Loki died when he fell from the Bifrost. 

Hela and Jörmungandr don’t know this, and don’t have much to compare notes because Jör last saw him when he fled and Hela’s last conversation was right before Thor’s coronation. However, they are aware that Loki succeeded in his mission of getting Hela free, and they know how happy Odin would’ve been when it happened— they’re operating under the assumption that he’s been imprisoned for treason, and gearing up to invade Asgard for the sole purpose of getting him out. 

The events of the first Avengers movie doesn’t happen/gets skipped.

Fenrir breaks out during the Convergence, scaring the crap out of Jane Foster and taking the Aether with him. 

The group has a reunion, and then all eyes turn to Asgard. 

Chaos ensues when the Dark Elves’ invasion is interrupted by a separate, entirely unrelated attack that somehow manages to do even more damage.

and incidentally end up fulfilling the prophecy along the way, because they have a bone to pick with Odin and everyone who helped him

Cue angst and sadness when the truth about Loki comes out. Because Thor enters the fight, and Fenrir/Hela/Jörmungandr would inevitably ask “where’s your brother?” and then out comes the story of what happened on the Bifrost

...and because I made myself sad, here, have an alternate ending:

Hela and the others categorically refuse to accept he died, and keep looking. 

Jörmungandr in particular points out that the Bifrost can result in wonky time-space shenanigans if not monitored closely, and considering the circumstances in which he fell, well...

Fenrir goes to town on Sakaar when they find Loki.

cue tearful reunion and happy ending.

Ending 3: CHAOS [the fun one that I’m honestly leaning towards]

aka taking all of MCU canon that I remember, and sticking it in a blender because timeline fuckery abounds and absolute no one knows wtf is going on anymore. 

Taking full advantage of the “Bifrost can result in accidental time travel” thing, and the fact that Thanos is distracted looking for Hela and the Infinity Stones which in turn affects when the events of the first Avengers movie happens, well...

after Loki falls, cue minor timeskip because of Reasons. Hela and Jörmungandr get the chance to start recovering from the whole “living on the run/being forced into this position” thing, and also start looking

then a lot of stuff goes down very very fast.

Loki shows up in Germany, catching the attention of not only the Avengers, but Hela and Jörmungandr. 

...the alien god talking about subjugation should’ve been the guy getting all the headlines, had it not been for the gigantic glowing wolf that showed up halfway through his speech. Or the aliens that followed him from gods-knew-where.

aka Fenrir breaks out during the Convergence, and the Dark Elves really, really, really want the Aether.

aka yes, this is the one where the events first Avengers movie and Thor: The Dark World happen concurrently.

SHIELD has their hands full, Erik Selvig and Jane Foster are working overtime to figure out wtf is going on, and Thor is less than helpful because all of other aliens can and will attack him on sight. 

Thor tries to drag Loki into custody.

Loki gets kidnapped on the way. By a wizard, because why the fuck not, things were already weird enough as is. 

Tracking down said wizard is an exercise in futility, but damn if they don’t try anyway. 

Having Clint Barton and his associates get portalled in with an honest-to-goodness apology note? Sure, just add it onto the pile. 

Everyone in SHIELD is confused, anyone who knows their myths has just been screaming this entire time because there’s also been sightings of an enormous snake in the oceans [Jörmungandr’s defense system was working overtime, sue him], and things just keep escalating.

Eventually there’s a team-up, and then a human wizard shows up too? Saying something about how their duty was to safeguard the Earth from extradimensional threats and obviously SHIELD was doing a shit job of it? Fine. Just...fine.

hi, Stephen Strange

aka the Avengers assemble and there’s more of them because all hands on deck

[insert snappy dialogue and interactions here]

Hela when she finds out what Thanos is up to: (ง'̀-'́)ง

[insert cinematic fight scene with all the drama and irony and Norse mythology references]

cue happy ending

#Ere The World Falls #thinking aloud #behind the scenes #spoilers #ETWF spoilers

[itendedbadly]

Invited In

An explanation: So, the reader is going through her fertile cycle, and this thought came to me and I couldn’t leave it alone, so here you are. It’s un-beta’d, purely self-indulgent, and yeah that was an unintentional throwback to Twilight listen it was an accident. Honestly, I wrote this because I’m a horny bitch for Claes Bang and his role in BBC’s Dracula and needed an outlet for my fantasies, no I won’t apologize, and I really like imagining him saying dirty things because his voice really gets to me.

Pairing: Dracula x reader

Tags: Mentions of blood and gore, dirty talk, sexual reference, the reader is not technically his servant freely?, Dracula has a super-nose, honestly the reader should’ve just gone to bed

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary: “You daft girl,” his voice was a low growl.

Another inhale and a heavy groan vibrated against you.

“Your smell, it makes me want to eat that sweet cunt of yours.”

Three years. It was a long three years you’d been with the Count, helping with personal affairs and just overall trying not to get in his way. The last thing you wanted to be was a nuisance considering his allowance of your stay in his condo ever since the unfortunate circumstance of your accidentally viewing his “extra-curricular” activities. Well, “allowing” you to stay was a bit of an exaggeration. The terms of your agreement not to kill you were that you kept his secret and stayed in his home to help him adapt to the different climate of the present date. This included the management of his social media presence as well as introducing modern fixtures into his lovely home (the television heralded an immediate fascination from Dracula as well as, surprisingly, detachable shower heads).

Now, if someone asked you how you felt about said arrangement (which they didn’t) you would say that while preferable to the alternative, it didn’t come without its hazards. Such hazards including: Constant fear that the slightest mistake will lead to death, the constant degrading reminder from the Count that the slightest mistake could lead to death (should the mood take him), and that no matter how hard you tried, you could never escape. What you wanted was and shall remain irrelevant to him, because how could such a selfish creature ever contemplate the desires of a young, empty-headed girl. Or rather, that’s what he labelled you in his mind, if he ever spared a thought for you at all. Though, you had an inkling that he cared for you more than he let on. If you ever said something particularly clever, or helped to solve an issue weighing on his mind, he would sometimes afford you the same kind of glance an owner would for their pet after doing a trick with no training.

It was this idea that brought a sly grin to your lips while picking up a towel and left-over pieces of clothing Dracula had, again, left on the floor of his master bedroom. Contrary to popular belief, brought about by his well put-together demeanor, the Count was, in fact, a bit of a slob. Constantly forgetting things or just throwing others away out of disinterest, it left you to clean up the mess. Though, you made it known that you drew the line at any piece of clothing or linen with a blood-stain on it. The idea of who it may have belonged to often left you feeling queasy and remorseful for serving such an unempathetic master. Though, you would never admit to his face that you thought of him as such, either unempathetic or as your master. Any scrap of power you could successfully keep him from holding over you, you would.

You’re brought out of your now slightly-dreary musings as the door slams downstairs. Uh-oh. The Count had been in a dreadful mood for the past few days, with no explanation as to why, but it seemed the mere sight of you made it worse. Quickly, you threw what you were holding into the dirty laundry basket and tried to slip to your room, where you would often find your sanctuary when Dracula had said something particularly harsh. You didn’t make it more than a few steps before you heard your name being called in a tone conveying urgency. Your chest swelled and deflated in a heavy sigh as you made your way downstairs. It wasn’t halfway down when you heard Dracula conversing with someone, presumably over the phone since there was no other discernible voice. It took some strength not to meekly peek around the corner of the bottom of the stairs before rounding into the spacious living room.

“Yes, I said that’s what I wanted. No, you don’t need to come my home and further discuss the details.” It seemed you were catching the tail-end of a conversation between him and his lawyer. “Alright, I’m hanging up now, yes, yes, yes, goodbye.” The Count brought the phone slowly away from his ear, and faintly you could hear the sounds of someone struggling to be heard before the call was cut off.

“Y/N, come here a moment. I need you to dispatch of my profile on this particular dating website.” Sigh. Seemed Tinder hadn’t worked out, then, a matter most definitely having been brought up by his lawyer. You reluctantly made your way to the laptop sitting, already opened, on the coffee table. With a few mouse clicks and password entries for confirmation, the Tinder profile was deleted and with it, any trace of how Dracula was finding his victims.

A cold presence settling in behind you made you aware that your actions were being closely observed, and that, if you wanted, a single step back would press you to the vampire, back to front. An errant thought you swept away with a quick shake of your head.

“Are you displeased with my orders?” You quickly turned your chin over your shoulder to address the Count, hoping to dispel any ideas he had towards your dissatisfaction.

“No, sir.” Nothing further was needed, and you hoped he would leave the thoughtless action alone. And, it seemed to be so, since you felt his presence fade and heard soft footsteps to the couch, where he sat down heavily.

“I think tonight will be a quiet one, so you may dismiss yourself to your bedroom.”

Now this, this was odd. It seemed the ever-energetic supernatural being was … worn down. Considering this, what you should have done was thank him and immediately start to the stairs, and then head down the opposite hallway to his, towards your own room for some quiet, personal time. Instead, you couldn’t help the words that practically fell out of your mouth.

“Do you- I mean, are you alright, sir?” The Count didn’t seem to pay any attention to the oddness of your actually questioning his orders, and merely waved a large, pointy-nailed hand in your direction in a clear sign of ‘go away’.

“Don’t bother your pretty little head over it and run along like a good girl.” A flush tried to make its way onto your cheeks, but you successfully stifled it and calmed your heart rate with gentle breaths, so as to not let him know how much those two words actually affected you.

You gave a hesitant nod, even though he wasn’t actually looking at you and made your way past his figure, towards the stairs. Just as you dropped your shoulders and let a long breath past your lips, you felt a hand of icy fingers wrapped like steel around your wrist. With a gasp, you looked back to see that Dracula had nearly lifted himself off the sofa, bending away from it and towards you in his, clearly, unplanned grab of your wrist. Even his eyes seemed to widen a little, taking in what he had done. You looked at his face, expecting another command, but instead found that he would not meet your eyes, merely staring at his own, apparently-traitorous, hand. In a movement that screamed the effort of prying off a metal beam, he released your own appendage finger by finger. The vampire turned his head away, clearly waiting for your departure, but you just stood there, staring at him.

In three years, you had not seen this sort of behavior from him in any way or form. Maybe he was ill, did vampires even get ill? Maybe he was finally getting too old, and he was not, in fact, immortal. In any case, the smart thing to do would have been excuse the action and head back to your room regardless. However, smart wasn’t a word you would use to describe yourself, brave certainly, but not smart.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Count?”

Almost as if speaking was too much effort, his lips parted and closed again, resulting in him turning his entire body away from you. You admired the broadness of his shoulders from this heightened angle, and the always well-styled black locks on his head. You didn’t want to presume the meaning behind his actions, all too aware that jumping to conclusions could not only break your heart, but lose you your life. In a bold move that you normally would never even consider, you placed your hand on his shoulder and let out a shaky breath at the firmness of his frame, unable to help yourself imagining it placed against you. But, even as you thought about it, the muscles beneath your hand began to relax and almost sag down onto him. Well, you had certainly never considered it possible that you could help the Count relax in any way. Even so, you drew your hand back and made a few steps to circle towards the older man’s front. What you saw took your breath from your lungs like a punch in the chest.

Pupils surrounded by red and elongated teeth were exposed in a pained grimace, as if he were holding himself back. Quickly realising that you had placed yourself into a precarious position you stepped back, only for a low growl to rumble out of Dracula’s chest. You froze, not wanting to further upset him.

“If- uh, if you’re hungry I could go out, maybe bring someone home.” It wouldn’t be the first time you had asked someone on the street to come back with you, to help you with something, only for them to become the main course for the beastial man in front of you, however guilty it left you feeling.

“I’m not hungry” the words left him in a choked manner, “for food.”

“Oh, ah, well. Um, what exactly could I do to help you, sir?”

“You could leave to your room, run away, this very moment.”

You felt a swell of hurt rise in your chest, was your very presence so distasteful and unwanted to him?

“Have I done something wrong, sir? Do I disgust you?” The words slipped past your lips without permission, yet you let them embolden you and took a few steps forward so that your knees nearly touched him in his near-crouch position.

You could tell he was holding his breath, though the reason for why did not make itself clear to you. Maybe, you had a bad smell lingering on you somewhere? Surely, nothing to call forth this sort of reaction. You waited for him to reprimand you for your behavior, or to even threaten you with the end of your agreement, but he didn’t make a sound, to prevent any sort of intake of air.

With red staining your neck and collarbones, working its way onto your cheeks you asked, “Do I smell bad or something?” A quick sniff to your wrist and hair proved useless, you smelled the same as usual.

At your actions he huffed out what might’ve been a laugh, if he hadn’t breathed back in on habit, the air seeming to get stuck in his throat. A loud snarl wrenched the air and his hands appeared on your hips, with a grip tight enough you were sure you’d see bruises later.

You tried to pull away in fear, despite knowing that the motion would prove obsolete, and felt a shiver run up your back. This was it, you didn’t know what you’d done or what you’d been thinking, but this was it, the end of your agreement, and subsequently, your life.

A pitiful whimper left you as his head nodded forward to rest against your lower stomach and he inhaled heavily, like he would never breathe again.

“You daft girl,” his voice was a low growl, “It’s your scent, darling. But, you don’t smell repulsive.” Another inhale and a heavy groan vibrated against you, where you felt warmth start to pool in your abdomen. “Your smell, it’s divine. It makes me want to eat that sweet cunt of yours.”

A shock of arousal shot through you, and any sound you might’ve made got caught in your throat as he pressed firmer against you.

“Once a month, sweetheart,” he started, “Once a month, I can smell how your wet pussy longs to be filled with my aching cock, and every month it gets harder and harder to deny how much I need it.”

His words shouldn’t make you feel as if you are on fire, but they do, and your excitement leaps with every word from his mouth. And, as he lifts his head to make eye contact with you, you know he can see in your eyes just how turned on you are, if he couldn’t already smell it. His lips tug up on one side of his face, and though what he said was filthy, his face seemed to relax as if talking about something as mundane as the weather.

“It’s unusual for someone like me to crave something other than the richness in your veins, but I’ve also never lived with someone living for a prolonged period of time.” He rose slowly to tower over you, “Or maybe,” you felt one of his sharp claws run across your bottom lip gently while looking into his rich brown eyes, “Maybe, you’re just special, hm?” A shimmer of mirth.

Finally, you caught your breath, but couldn’t make your brain put enough words together to make sense.

“I, um- What- Do you, uh-”

“No, no, no,” he shushes you in a sweet manner, though you knew what lay behind it, “No talking, now. I just need one thing.” His head dipped to bring his face closer to yours, and you knew you would be more than happy to oblige to whatever he wanted from you.

“I need an answer, just one, got that, sweet girl?” A sharp nod of your head.

“Good, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?” He cleared his throat, and spoke with clear intent, “Now, may I come in?”

Each word was pronounced slowly, and you knew by the look in his eyes exactly what you would be agreeing to. A moment’s consideration wasn’t need, because you had your answer long before he asked the question.

“Yes, Count Dracula, please come inside.”

#Dracula #bbc #reader #smut #itendedbadly #invitedin #dirty talk #2020 #vampire #blood #self indulgent #one shot #drabble #angst #fluff #claes bang could get it #netflix dracula

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 127

Chapter Summary - Danielle and Tom return home and organise themselves for their next time apart, but Danielle's trip to the shops leads to a peculiar situation.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine.

I WILL get there, it is my dream!

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​​ @nonsensicalobsessions​​ @damalseer​​ @hiddlesbitch1​​ @winterisakiller​ @fairlightswiftly​​ @salempoe​​ @wolfsmom1

‘Where are my best boys?’ Both dogs were almost frantic to get to Tom and Danielle as she knelt down in front of them. Mac got there first on account of his longer legs and Bobby tumbling en route. When he righted himself, he decided to seek attention from Tom before both dogs seemed to hear a silent signal and both swapped humans almost as though they had choreographed it. ‘Did you miss us?’ Bobby all but climbed into her arms and licked her face.

‘What happened to not rewarding this behaviour?’ Tom asked as he scratched the fur on Mac’s chest.

‘I saw you do it first.’ She grinned as she cuddled the pup in her arms.

They got the dogs into the car, securing them before heading back to the house. Tom spoke about different engagements to do with Early Man as they went.

‘Did you spend much time with the rest of the cast for the movie?’ Danielle asked.

‘No, you don’t with voice work, you are in a recording studio, mostly by yourself.’

‘Do you know the rest of the cast well, bar Redmayne?’

‘Not really, I mean, I met most of them a few times, the British circuit is a smaller one, but I will have to spend the most of my time with Maisie and Eddie for the promotion.’

‘Maisie Williams, right?’

‘Yes….’

‘I like her, she and I spent way too long talking about her stunts when she and I were on the set together, she is mad in the loveliest possible way.’ Tom stared at her. ‘She’s in Game of Thrones you absolute numpty.’ Danielle laughed.

Tom shook his head and chuckled. ‘Oh course, how foolish of me. You will see Redmayne before me though.’

‘No, he is there for the second week, he is doing stuff for Early Man the first one.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘I may have checked the schedule on the flight back.’

‘Elle!’

‘What, you were asleep and I am leaving first thing, so I wanted to get ready and that way get in the shopping and walk the dogs at home instead of readying for this.’

Tom nodded slightly. ‘That does sound like a better idea, in all fairness.’

‘So, we drop the dogs and bags back, I get some shopping while you sort the house and...why are you looking at me like that?’

‘You’re not even going to be here, why are you getting the shopping?’ Tom chuckled.

‘Because I don’t forget half the list because some people recognise me and then forget why I was there, leading to a return to the shop fifteen minutes later to forget….again!.’

‘That was one time.’

‘You mean you only forgot twice one time, it is not the only time you did that.’ She laughed. ‘You can remember Hamlet, including five soliloquies but you cannot remember to get red currant jelly.’

‘I am a terrible man.’ Tom chuckled, taking her hand and kissing it.

‘Well, you had to have some faults. Contrary to many of your fan’s beliefs, you’re not actually a deity.’

‘You seem to think me a deity when we’re in bed.’

‘Behave.’ She warned, giving him a momentary glare, but there was a grin edging its way into her features as she did.

When they got back to the house, Mac saw fit to mark the two cars as well as the two brick gate posts before finally going inside, Bobby having already went to ensure their bed was still where it had been before. Tom and Danielle brought in their bags and their gifts that they had gotten, into the house.

‘I am not going to lie, your way of doing this is far easier.’ Tom beamed as he took his suitcase upstairs as Danielle brought hers to the back kitchen to the washing machine.

‘Well, it makes more sense, all the dirty laundry in one bag, the clean in the other, otherwise you are forced to wash everything, and that is not practical.’ Danielle explained as she ascended the stairs after him.

‘Very thrifty, Ms Hughes.’

‘I am a very practical woman.’ She smiled as she entered the bedroom, laughing as she watched Tom jokingly toying with her unused underwear, a cheeky grin on his face. ‘You fecking eejit.’ His smile only widened at her reaction. ‘How are you a man that is assumed to be so professional and proper and here you are, messing with my panties?’

‘I am a very talented actor.’ Tom beamed proudly.

‘Fecking eejit.’ She laughed. ‘I am going to get some shopping.’ She grabbed her purse that she had left at her side of the bed and left the room.

‘What about…’

She paused on the stairs as a concerned looking Tom came out of the room. ‘Yes, love?’

‘Why would you pay for the food when I am the one that will eat most of it?’

‘Because there is a water charges bill that needs paying on the counter, they will be about the same.’ She dismissed.

‘Fair enough.’ Tom shrugged. ‘Don’t forget the Hobnobs.’

‘I plan on getting two packs.’

‘I love you.’

‘You love Hobnobs.’ Danielle laughed.

‘I love you more though.’

‘Good to know.’ She chuckled as she grabbed her jacket and went to the shops.

*

Danielle paid little heed to anything around her bar the road as she parked and paid her ticket before grabbing a few bags from the back seat and rushing into the first shop.

It did not take long to get what she needed, eggs, milk and other such items, before heading to the butchers for meat. Grabbing the few things for the rest of the week, she didn’t really think too much of anything before bagging her purchases and leaving again. It was at the last stop, a small Tesco Express not far from the car to get Tom’s biscuits that she paused and frowned.

She had seen Tom on magazines before, especially after the whole Taylor Swift situation, but seeing herself and him on them seemed to make her brain incapable of processing it. On the front cover of three different magazines, there were photos of her and Tom on their arrival to Rome, as well as a comparative picture with him there with Taylor, and a few headlines that made her brow raised. Shaking her head, she turned slightly only to see a women flicking through one of the magazines only to stop at the page of her and Tom, the woman reading ardently what few lines that were there before noticing Danielle next to her.

‘My daughter is stone mad about him, he’s not bad to look at. Could do with a shave though.’

‘I prefer a beard, personally.’

‘Well, his girlfriend doesn’t seem to mind. Poor Amanda was gutted to see him with someone, as though she’ll ever even meet him.’ The woman rolled her eyes. ‘She seems too down to Earth for all that madness, look at that outfit, she’s not trying to show off her knickers like half of them.’

‘I don’t blame her.’ Danielle smiled before going to get the biscuits, laughing to herself. As she grabbed Tom’s favourites she fell into fresh giggles and forced herself to breathe deep before laughing again. When she got to the checkout, the girl behind the counter was looking at her oddly, which did little to help Danielle’s giggles. She barely uttered out thank you as she took her change, noting the girl checking her hand. Danielle, unable to stop herself, turned over her hand and gave a pretend saddened face before thanking the girl again and walking off, another checkout girl nearby laughing loudly as she did, also saying “I told you it was her” as she did so.

Danielle was still laughing when she parked the car in the driveway and collected the bags of shopping and heading into the house. She was about to see where Tom was to tell him her funny story when she heard him speaking on the phone.

‘So nothing too mad then? No, I told you I wasn’t going to propose. No, she loved it. She needed the break, work has been hard on her recently.’ Danielle closed the door gently and went to make her way into the kitchen quietly so not to startle Tom and interrupt his call. ‘No, I haven’t asked her.’ Danielle paused for a moment. ‘She could tell I wanted to ask her something and I froze.’ She frowned at his words, remember the odd look he was giving her and her questioning it before he dismissed it. ‘Because she will say no and everything will become awkward and it could very well destroy everything.’ Danielle felt odd about what Tom was saying, not sure what he was wanting to ask her. ‘She actually allowed me to embrace her and she kissed me, in public, I am not risking all that. I….I can’t. If she said no and felt as though I was pressuring her and...no, it’s not worth it. I know I do, but not at the cost of her.’

Deciding not to let the conversation continue without Tom knowing she was there, Danielle inhaled deeply and used her elbow to open the door. Tom swung around, clearly startled by her appearance. She gave an attempt at a smile as Tom ran his hand through his hair before clearing his throat.

‘Luke, I need to go, Danielle is back and I need to help her get sorted here. I’ll talk to you more tomorrow. Yes, I will send back the paperwork to them as well. Bye.’ Tom hung up the phone and rushed over to Danielle. ‘Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you were getting everything.’ He smiled as he brought the meat to the fridge. ‘Was there anything of note in the village?’

‘No, here?’ Danielle asked, wondering if Tom would think to mention the earlier content of his call.

‘Nothing much. Luke rang, as you gathered, letting me know that there was a few pictures and articles, nothing of note.’

‘We are on the front page of a few magazines.’ Tom stared silently at her. ‘There are a few of the weekly trash ones with the pictures of us in Rome on them. Going by the publishing dates, if there is any of us elsewhere, they will happen in the next issue.’ She did not even look at him as she put the rice and other foods in the cupboard.

‘Are you alright?’

‘Fine, you?’

‘Fine.’ Tom eyed her cautiously. ‘Are you mad?’

‘About what, the magazines?’ He nodded. ‘Not at all, I couldn’t give a fuck about them, I thought it was funny if I’m honest. I giggled the whole way around Tesco’s and the entire journey home about it actually.’ She stated as she all but threw the groceries away. ‘I am going to get changed. Are we both walking the dogs or am I going alone?’

Tom could not help but notice her harsh manner. ‘I thought we were both going?’

‘Well, we better get started so, I need to get an early dinner as I have to be up at stupid o’clock to get the half six flight.’ She left the room and a baffled Tom behind her.

For the whole of the walk, though Danielle ensured she kept her tone light and spoke casually, Tom did not reveal anything of the conversation that concerned her with Luke, upsetting her slightly.

He tried to suggest ordering something or going out to dinner since they were tired out after their holiday and Danielle was up so early, but she insisted on cooking, making sure both their steaks were done as they liked them and putting together a delicious dinner to go with them.

‘Thank you, Elle, that was incredible.’ Tom kissed her cheek as she soaked the dish she had put the roast potatoes in. ‘I am going to miss you terribly.’

‘Yes, it is odd after so long of both of us in the house to be apart again, but we are well able for it.’ Danielle smiled. ‘Unless we don’t count my hell hours.’

‘How will Safeguard do without you around for two weeks?’

‘Well, I will have a shit-tonne to do again on my return, obviously, but for the most part, I am needed to ensure the set is ready but that is going to be mostly before shooting, I can deal with a lot of the paperwork while on site, so I will be fine, just checking over everything when I...stop that.’ She gently pushed Tom, who was snaking his hands down her sides. ‘You are insatiable.’ His lips pressed against her skin. ‘The dogs are looking at us.’

‘So?’

‘Tom, I am not a prude, you know that but we are not going any further in front of our pets, that is not something I am into.’ She nudged him again.

‘Then leave the dishes and get away from the dogs.’

‘I need to tidy and pack.’

Tom groaned. ‘Spoilsport.’

‘Finish these and let the adult get her work done.’ She scoffed, drying her hands and tossing the tea towel at him before leaving the room.

When Tom joined her upstairs half an hour later, Danielle had a fresh bag packed and everything she needed ready. ‘I will bring that down for you.’

‘You’re fine. I am going to get a cab in the morning, let you sleep in.’

‘What? No, I will drop you.’

‘You don’t have to, I’m better off getting there myself.’

‘Elle, are you alright, you have been bothered since coming back from the shops?’

‘I’m fine, I just don’t want you having to get up early for no good reason.’

‘Seeing you off is not “no good reason”.’

‘Are you that desperate to get rid of me?’ She joked, putting her arms around him. ‘Tom, I mean it, nothing happened when I was out today, well, it did, but positive, I was actually in a great mood from it all.’

‘But you seem …’

‘Don’t go looking for issues when there are none,’ She warned, throwing a pair of folded clean socks at him. ‘I am trying to get myself ready for two weeks of hard work after a fortnight of shit, then a nice break, it’s a lot to organise in my head.’ She explained.

‘I’m sorry, I just don’t want something like magazines coming between us, I don’t want to lose you to something so inconsequential.’

‘Do you think you will?’

‘No, or I hope I don’t, but the way you kissed me, you actually leant up and kissed me, in front of others, in full view of everyone...I…’ There was some emotion in his face that Danielle found difficult to place, it was almost like happy disbelief. ‘I love you, so much. And the idea that we are developing this much...You have no idea how incredibly happy I am, Elle.’ She could not help but smile as he looked at her adoringly. ‘I love this, I love you and I love us.’

‘Tom, you are too loving, do you know that?’ She smiled. ‘I love you too.’ She leant up and kissed him. ‘But no matter what, I am not going to run off over something small, I promise, so don’t ever feel you can’t talk to me about certain things that are bothering you, okay?’

Tom’s brows knitted together slightly before he nodded. ‘I know.’ He kissed her and pulled her in against him, but said nothing else on the matter, causing Danielle to wonder again as to what it was he was referencing in that phone call.

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 127 #Tom hiddleston fic #Tom Hiddleston #wolfpawn

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 8

Warnings: slight language, domestic Tyler (is that really a bad thing?)

Tagging: @valkyrie-of-the-light, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud

“You know, sometimes it is still weird seeing you like this,” Ovi remarks, as he sits at the kitchen table with Declan standing on his lap; tiny hands tightly gripping his shoulders as surprisingly strong little legs dig into his thighs as the baby bounces up and down.  

“Like what?” Tyler’s at the stove, making lunch for himself, Ovi, and the twins. The girls have gone out for the day; hair cuts, manicures and pedicures, lunch.  Millie was in one of her ‘ girly girl’ moods when she woke up. Pulling on a princess dress over her pyjamas, donning that plastic tiara, ordering her brothers to refer to her as ‘your highness’.  

“Extra,” Esme had said. “She’s a little bit extra today.”

After five years he’d thought he’d have the being a girl dad gig under control.  He’d (somewhat) mastered  the pig tails and braids and the ridiculously small elastics used to hold them together, gotten used to the splashes of pink in every room and the glitter that seemed to magically appear on rugs and couches and nearly every other available surface.  But the moods. And the sass.  Going from sweet and loving to she devil in the blink of an eye. Boys are easier. He can relate to them. They didn’t have the up and down emotional swings and weren’t nearly as mouthy. They were either running at full speed ahead or were down and out. There was none of this guessing what would set them off. Was the good-natured teasing going to make them cry or laugh hysterically? They didn’t come to the breakfast table with the biggest bitch vibe because they felt as if someone spoke too harshly or looked at them the wrong way.

Testosterone was running rampant in that house, but there were days the women clearly had the upper hand and the guys just had to tow the line or there’d be hell to pay. He’d long ago learned to pick his battles. Especially with his wife. A well placed ‘yes, babe’ or a smile and a nod during an argument over stupid shit could avoid being banished to the couch for an indeterminate amount of time.

And that was ninety percent of their fights.  Dumb shit that just escalates into something bigger; both ferociously stubborn and neither willing to admit defeat.  The other ten percent was over the job. Other his growing obsession with feeling as if he had to prove something to other people. And to himself.  Nearly losing his life in Dhaka and the months of recovery had taken their toll. Especially on his mental health. He saw his struggles as a sign of weakness. He hated that she’d seen him at his most vulnerable. That he’d had to surrender his control over his life and everything in it.  In turn, she thought he was being ridiculous.

“That’s what people do when they love each other, Tyler. They take care of one another. No matter what that entails. You don’t abandon someone because they need you to help with things. Who cares if I had to help you get to the bathroom some days? I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. What’s going to happen if I ever get sick? Or if when I’m old and gray you have to do things like that for me? Are you just going to say fuck you and the past forty years and just walk away?”

He had tried arguing that that was different. She was his wife. And it was his job as a husband to take care of. Not the other way around.

“Fuck your stereotypes, Tyler. Can you not just stow your damn stupid foolish pride long enough to let me love you?”

They’d never had that argument again.

“This side of you,” Ovi says, as the baby grabs at his ears and nose. “The domestic one. Sometimes I just remember the other side, know what I mean?”

“That’s a side no one should have to remember, mate.”

It was a side he didn’t even like to think about at times. While the brutality and the killings were for the most part justified, there were times he’d come home after a mission and look at himself in the mirror and the reality of what he’d done would hit him. And he’d feel sick; disgusted with the knowledge that he was capable of doing the things he could and not even think twice about it.

“It just seems weird,” Ovi says. “To see you one way and then you see this way.”

Tyler smirks. “What? You didn’t think I knew how to cook or do laundry? I wasn’t always a bachelor living in a shack. I did have a wife before the one I have now.  And now I’ve got four little humans to help keep alive, so I best be doing my part,” he loudly wraps his knuckles against the widow above the sink, waving the twins inside when they glance towards the house.  Having to help strip them of muddy rain boots and dirty jackets, scrubbing hands and faces in the kitchen sink before they can even think about sitting down.  Arguments ensuing over who gets to sit beside Ovi; he is their older brother in their eyes, and they’ve been seeing him less and less now that he has a woman in his life.

“I like when it’s just us,” TJ announces, after everyone is settled and digging into their plates of food. “All boys!”

“I miss mommy though,” Tanner admits. He definitely is a momma’s boy. He wears his enormous heart on his sleeve when it comes to his mother; sticking close by her side at all times, always willing to help her out when she is doing things around the house, requesting to tag along whenever she went into town to run errands.  As far as he’s concerned, mommy can do no wrong and is the one who hung the moon and the stars. Even now he has tears in his eyes, not liking the realization that she isn’t close by. “Maybe I can call her.”

“She’s out with your sister,” Tyler reaches out and tousles his son’s hair. “Girls day. Give Millie a chance to spend some alone time with her, okay?”

 He totally understands where the kid is coming from. There’s not a second that goes by when he’s on the job that he isn’t missing home and wishing he could be there.  Where he’s missing the way she smiles at him, or the way she runs her hands through his hair, or even just the sound of her voice.  Or how when he’d lie awake beside her and watch her as she slept; listening to her breathe and thinking about how much he’d miss her if suddenly she wasn’t there anymore.

Those were the thoughts he hated the most. That what if’s. What if something happened and he was left alone with four children to raise? What if she got tired of him always being away and being addicted to the job and she took off with the kids? What if she woke up one day and realized all along what a mistake it was to get mixed up with him in Dhaka?  He never brought those things up to her.  Most of his demons she was aware of and helped him battle. Others he kept to himself.

“Why do you care so much?” he can hear Gaspar’s voice plain as day. “Why are you holding on so tight to some girl you just met? Save yourself, Tyler. Get rid of the kid, take your part of the ten million, and just ditch the girl in the street. Save yourself a lot of heartache.”

He’d thought of attempting to explain it to him. How that ‘girl’ had come into his life when he’d least expected it and had shown him what it was like to feel alive again. That she’d managed to begin the dismantling of the walls he’d built up around himself and was reminding him what it felt like to be wanted. That she didn’t give a fuck about his past and vice versa and he was feeling confident that things would lead to something more.  

There was no way he was just leaving her in the goddamn street.

Instead he’d just told his old friend that it was none of his business.  He didn’t need to know what was going on and Tyler sure as hell didn’t owe him an explanation.

“Just don’t come crying to me when she destroys you. Because she will. You’re already putting your all into this and for what? Because you like getting your dick wet and keeping your bed warm? This won’t end well, Tyler. Trust me. Two broken people can not and do not make a whole. They just make a mess of things.”

Five years have come and gone since that conversation. Since Gaspar had betrayed him and tried to kill him. And since Ovi turned the tables on the man and took his life.  Sometimes Tyler wishes that Gaspar was still around solely so he could spite him, that he could sit him down at the kitchen table and make him look at the beautiful little faces gathered there. See how their eyes sparkle when they smile and hear their laughs. These tiny beings made up from the very best parts of their mother and father. Who know they’re loved without question and live in a house where they see love and respect between the two people who’d come together and created them.

Maybe things had started out in a less than perfect way.

But what they had now was perfect for them.

 ****

“So this girl…” he address Ovi, as they lounge together on the front porch; the baby spread along his thighs as he drinks a bottle of milk, an eye on the twins as they play together on an old tire swing dangling from the branch of a towering willow. “...you see her again last night?”

The kid nods.

“You spend the night or…?”

“No. I came home. This time I didn’t lose my key. I still feel horrible about that. I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”

“You realize how close I came to shooting you, yeah? I thought someone broke into the house. My wife and my kids were there. And I’ll do anything to protect them. You know that.  Definitely wasn’t your smartest moment.  But this girl…whatever you said her name is…”

“Chloe,” he sighs it with a long, content sigh and Tyler is tempted to slap the shit out of him.  But he knows what it’s like to get caught up in a whirlwind; to be unable to catch your breath or even think straight.

“What’s the deal with you two? You seeing each other or sleeping together or…?”

“I guess we’re seeing each other. We like to spend time together.  But we haven’t slept together. I already told you about that. That I wasn’t ready for that.”

“And what about her? Is she ready for that?”

Ovi shrugs.

“I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation right now. Part of me wants to avoid it altogether and another part of me is just surprised we haven’t had it sooner.”  And yet another part is grateful his own sons are at least eleven or twelve years away from needing the same talk.  “So you know to be careful, right? You know how to be careful?” Fuck. It sounded lame even to his own ears.  

Ovi looks offended. “I know what condoms are. And how to use them. I did take health class in school.”

“Well just make sure you use them. If it comes down to needing them. Use them no matter what. Even if she says she’s on the pill. Unless you want to get the burn. Do you want to get the burn?”

“The burn? What?”

“It’s just a nickname for a STD. You know what those are right?”

“I learned about those the first year here.”

“Well make sure you don’t get any. Be safe. All the time. Take responsibility for wrapping your shit up.” He feels like a hypocrite for even saying it. Seeing as he and Esme had never used a damn thing during those five days in Dhaka and she ended up pregnant.  “Look what I’m about to say, don’t take it the wrong way. Because I love my daughter. You know that. But she wasn’t exactly planned, know what I’m saying? Things just happened between Esme and I. We barely even knew each other. And in hindsight, we should have been more careful. But we weren’t. And Millie is the result of that.  She wasn’t made out of love. It was two strangers who couldn’t and wouldn’t stop fucking each other. Understand what I’m saying?”

“But if it didn’t happen, she wouldn’t be here,” Ovi points out.

“I’m just saying that we should have known better and been more careful. What would have happened if I got Esme pregnant and in the end it turned out we couldn’t stand one another? It would have been a big fucking mess.  Don’t get yourself into a big fucking mess. That’s all I’m saying. Understand?”

The kids.

“Just take your time and get to know her. Really know her. That’s my best advice. Other than wrapping shit up. And if you want to bring her here, that’s fine. But she doesn’t spend the night under my roof. I don’t want that shit going on with my kids in the house. Probably sounds old fashioned, but I’d just rather you didn’t do shit like that. Okay?”

“So everything came back fine? All her background checks?”

“Other than an uncle that likes to beat up women, things are clean. Now that’s not an invitation to just go crazy and propose to her and all that shit.  Just take your time. You have your whole life ahead of you.  You’re way too young to be thinking about marriage and keeping a wife happy and having kids.”

“Do you ever regret it? Marrying someone so soon? Having a baby so quickly?”

“Do I regret it? No. Hard to regret it when you end up loving someone as much as I love my wife. I’d die for her. In a heartbeat. And I have an incredible little girl. So no. I don’t regret it. I wouldn’t go back and change things if that’s what you mean. But I’m lucky. Things worked out. How many people do things like this happen to where it doesn’t work out? Don’t be one of those people.”

****

The sound of tires on the gravel driveway brings their conversation to a halt. Tyler gets to his feet and checks his watch; way too early for Esme and Millie to be returning from their girls day. Very few know where they live; all mail rerouted to a post office box, all deliveries picked up at the outlet at the pharmacy. His clients for his side business only have a cell number to contact.  Extra measures that had to be taken considering the job and the many toes he’s trampled on in the nearly ten years he’s been in the game.   And he frowns at the first sight of the unfamiliar vehicle; a Lexus SUV with tinted windows and all terrain tires.

“Who is that?” Ovi asks.

“Take the kids out back,” Tyler hands him the baby, puts two fingers in his mouth and issues a shrill whistle to capture the twins’ attention. “Boys…come here..”

“Who is that, daddy?” Tanner inquires, watching over his shoulder as the Lexus glides to a stop alongside their own vehicle and the driver kills the ignition.

“Go out back with Ovi,” he instructs. “Stay back there until I either come to you guys or I call for you. Understand?”

The twins both nod and he tousles their hair and presses a kiss to the top of their heads.

“Maybe I should stay here,” Ovi nervously suggests.

“Everything’s fine. I doubt a guy driving a car like that can do much manage. Just take them out back. Keep them busy. I won’t be long.”

Ovi reluctantly agrees, carrying the baby on his hip, a twin on either side, holding onto his shorts by the side pockets. Tyler watches them go, making sure they’re well out of ear shot before stepping down of the porch, hitting the middle of the front walkway just as the driver throws open the door and steps up.  Fairly tall and quite stocky, with pushed back brown hair that’s graying at the temples and receding slightly at the crown. Glasses, dressed conservatively in a blue blazer, white golf shirt and khaki pants.

“Nice piece of property you have back in here,” he says, as he shuts the driver’s side door. “Hard to find. Beautiful though.”

“That’s how we like it. Lots of privacy. No one just coming back in here unannounced. Well, until now anyway.”

“How many acres?”

“Little over five.”

The stranger gives a nod of approval. “Very nice. Esme always wanted a place like this. In the middle of nowhere. Where she could have a whole bunch of goats running around. Whole bunch of kids. You must be Tyler,” he offers a hand.

“I am,” he confirms. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mark. Esme’s…”

“Ex husband,” Tyler finishes for him. “Yeah, I heard my mother in law told you where we are. I’m just surprised you actually showed up. That something told you it was a good idea.”

“Michelle said that there shouldn’t be a problem. That neither of you would mind.”

Tyler smirks. “We mind. What are you doing here? Just one day woke up and decided you weren’t quite done tormenting your ex wife?”

He sighs. “I seen you’ve heard the stories.”

“I have. Which makes you being here a really bad idea. You shouldn’t be here. I don’t appreciate people just showing up out of the blue. Especially when my kids are here. And especially when I do know all the stories. So it’s probably best you just get back in the car and leave. You won’t find what you’re looking for here.”

“She said that you’d probably be combative. That you’re a tad possessive.”

“Protective,” he corrects. “I’m protective. Of my kids. Of my wife.” He stresses the word ‘my’, noticing how it instantly unnerves the other man. “Why are you even here? It’s been what? Seven years? Eight? And suddenly you just decide you want to see her again?”

“Is she home?” Mark attempts to step by him.

Tyler moves to block him. An easy feat considering he’s wider. Broad and solid and definitely not a push over. “She’s not.”

“Are you just saying that because you don’t want me talking to her, or…”

“I’m saying that because she’s not here. And because you shouldn’t be here either. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you’ve got the wrong guy to try and play it with. She’s out. With our daughter. So just get back in your car and…”

“Ex army, right?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Marine,” Mark boasts.

Tyler smirks. “Mate, I honestly don’t give a shit. Navy, Air Force, Army, Marines. I don’t give a fuck. So don’t try that bullshit with me. I’m going to ask you again. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to talk to Esme.”

“Why?”

“Well to be quite honest, that’s business that is between her and I.”

“Your business became my business when she became my wife. You show up at me house, where my kids are, wanting to see my wife and I’m supposed to be okay with it? What do you want? I’m not going to ask you again. I won’t think twice about dragging your ass down the driveway and throwing your ass in the road.”

Sighing heavily, Mark removes his sunglasses and slips into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I was warned you might be a little…hostile.”

“You don’t want to see me when I get hostile. So unless you want me dropping you on your ass..”

“I’m in a program. A twelve step one. I’ve just gotten to the step where it comes to making amends for the wrongs we’ve committed. That’s why I’m here.  I know some of the blame can be placed on me when it comes to Esme and I splitting up.”

“Some? Because from what I heard, it was pretty one sided.”

“I wasn’t the best husband, I agree. I had my faults. But you probably know for yourself that she’s not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“It must have been something to do with you. Because I haven’t had any problems living with her at all.”

“You know how she can get. She’s moody. Irrational. She likes to pick fights. Nothing is ever good enough for her. I’d even go as far as unstable but…”

“That’s my wife you’re talking about,” Tyler interjects, attempting to keep his cool.  “So I’d stop while you’re ahead. Just admit that you were a fuck head, mate. That you cheated on her. Multiple times. That you bullied her. Put your hands on her. Make it easier on yourself and just admit it.”

“Like I said, I know I’m partly to blame. But she wasn’t one hundred percent innocent.”

Tyler smirks. “We’re done here. I don’t need to hear anything else. You might have gotten away with gaslighting her, but you won’t get away with it with me. I’ve dealt with bigger and better, mate. I don’t care about your twelve step program. I don’t give a shit that you’re looking for absolution. Esme owes you nothing. She never deserved what you did. No one deserves that. So you need to just leave. Because I’m just about out of fucking patience.”

“Daddy,”  TJ is at his side, tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt. “Ovi said to come and check on you.”

‘Yeah? Well I told Ovi to keep you in the backyard. So go on. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Hey there, little man,” Mark greets, and crouches down so he is eye level with the child.

Tyler puts a hand on the top of his son’s head, moving him away from the unwelcome guest.  

“Hi,” TJ says in return. “Who are you?”

“An old friend of your mom’s. Which one are you? Tanner or Tyler?”

“I’m Tyler. Like daddy. That’s his name too.”

“And you’re how old? Three?”

“Almost four,” TJ confirms. “I have another brother too. Not just Tanner. A baby brother. Declan. And a big sister. Amelia. We call her Millie though.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tyler runs a hand over his son’s hair and gently nudges him towards the backyard. “Go back to Ovi and the others. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Okay?”

“Okay,” he reluctantly agrees, then adds  a cheerful ‘bye!’ in Mark’s direction before running off.”

“He’s a cutie, huh?” Mark grins as he stands up. “Twins. And two other ones. She always wanted a big family. Wasn’t in the cards for us, though. We weren’t on the same page when it came to wanting a family. I’m honestly glad she found someone that wanted it as much as she did.  I bet she’s a great mom.”

“She’s an amazing mom. And wife. Are we just about done here? Because I really need to get back to my kids.”

“It really did a number on her when she lost the baby. She was never quite the same after that.”

Tyler frowns. “Baby?”

“She was only a couple of months. We’d just found out. Didn’t really have a chance to get used to the idea. You didn’t know about that? That there’d been a baby?”

“First I’m hearing about it.”

“I wonder why she wouldn’t tell you. Maybe it didn’t bother her as much as she let on it did. If she didn’t even tell you about it, maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal after all.  Look, I’m not here to cause problems with the two of you. I’m not here to try and win her back. That ship sailed a long time ago. I just want to talk to her. I just want to apologize and make amends for the things I did. The things I said. I’m sure even you can understand that.”

Tyler nods.

“Can you at least ask her to give me a call? I don’t have to come back here. I know when I’m not welcome. But it’s really important that I do this. And I think she deserves to hear the things I have to say. Can you do that for me at least? Get her to contact me?”  he pulls a business card from one of the pockets on his blazers and offers it. “I really am happy for her. That she moved on. That she found someone that’s crazy about her and was able to give her what she wanted. She’s a great girl.”

“Yeah,” he plucks the card from Mark’s hand. “She really is. Your loss is my gain.”

“It definitely is. When she loves, she loves with her whole heart. You’re a lucky man. I hope you realize that.”

“Sometimes I have to be reminded,” Tyler admits, and this time when Mark offers a hand, he shakes it.

“You’ve got a beautiful family,” Mark says, as he heads for his SUV. “I hope you and Esme are happy. She deserves to be happy. That’s all I want for her.”

“That’s all I want for her too,” Tyler responds, then shoves the business card into the back pocket of his jeans. Hands on hips as he watches the other man climb into the SUV and drive away.

***

“Daddy!” Millie bellows the moment she steps through the front door, hastily kicking off her sandals and then scurrying down the hallway that leads to the back of the house.  “Daddy! You have to see! Daddeeeeee!”

He’s at the kitchen sink, up to the forearms is water and dish soap, and he dries his ands on the thighs of his jeans just as she races into the room and hurls herself towards him. Effortlessly catching that little body in large, strong arms and scooping her up.  

Esme drops her purse on the counter and watches them together; a precious, trusting five year old and a tall, strong man who is capable of inflicting so much pain and punishment. His entire demeanour changes when he’s in ‘daddy mode’; features and smile softening, eyes sparkling, tone gentle and patient. It’s phenomenally sexy; a man that big and powerful with these innocent, precious lives who idolize him so much. Two very different sides in one person; one is merciless and savage and takes lives if he needs to. The other nurtures and loves and helps create life.

Millie proudly and excitedly shows off the pampering that she’d received: sparkly pink and purple polish on her fingers and toes –“Just like mommy’s”- and her hair curled into tight ringlets.

“Why does it sparkle?” Tyler asks. “Why is there glitter in your hair?”

“Daddy…” she sighs dramatically. “…it’s not glitter. It’s unicorn dust.”

“Unicorn dust? What’s that? Is that what comes out of a unicorn’s butt when they fart?”

“Maybe…” she sing songs, and then giggles when he nuzzles his face against hers; effectively and purposefully tickling her with his beard.

“Why don’t you go  outside and show Ovi,” he suggests, pressing a kiss to her cheek and setting her down. ”He’d like to hear about a unicorn farting all over your head.”

“It’s not farts, daddy!” she argues, as she skips towards the sliding door and throws it open.  “It’s unicorn dust!”  And then she’s gone, bounding across the deck and jumping from the top step without a single stitch of fear. Hitting the ground running; shrieking about painted nails and glittery hair and elbowing anyone in the face that dares try to mess her curls up.

“And you say I’m the one giving you the gray hair,” Esme smirks. “It’s definitely her.”

“You’re the gray hair. She’s the ulcer,” he places his hands on her hips, and kisses her in greeting. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she runs her hands up the back of his t-shirt, then rakes her newly done nails down his back.

“What the fuck? Like fucking talons.”

“They’re not that sharp. And you’re the one that always says it’s a turn on when I do things like that.”  

Many a time he’s woken up the next day with his entire back, shoulders, and even rib cage carved to shit; long, bright red gouges that mar the skin and sting like a bitch.

“I wasn’t complaining. I’m just saying they’re…” he winces when she gets him right in the middle of the spine. One lonesome finger nail dragging all the way down to just under waist of his jeans.  “…fucking sharp. You need to stop…” he kisses her once more and then backs away. “…quit trying to seduce me all the time.”

“Like I have to try,” she snorts, as he goes back to the sink full of dishes and she plucks a bottle of water from the fridge. “I think you’re the one that’s doing the seducing,” she says, as she leans back against the counter next to him. “Doing housework while I’m watching? There’s nothing sexier than that. Seeing you all domestic and shit. What’s next? Laundry and vacuuming?”

“Already did the vacuuming and the last load of laundry is in the wash.”

“Baby, you are making me so wet right now. I might actually jump you right here and right now if you tell me that you remembered to take something out of the freezer for supper.”

“I did remember.  But as much as I wouldn’t object to being jumped in all the right ways right now, it is definitely not a good time. Too many little people running around. And Ovi is still traumatized from almost being shot the other night. Seeing us fucking? That would be years of extremely expensive therapy.”

“Or, it would be great experience for him to take back to Christine or Cathy or whatever her name is.”

“Chloe. And he says they haven’t had sex. Actually, he says he’s never had sex at all.”

Her eyes widen, bottle of water pressed to her lips. “Get out of here. Seriously?”

“That’s what he says.  He’s told me that twice now. And I had to have the ‘talk’ with him today.”

“I can only imagine how that went,” she gathers up a dish towel and steps alongside of him.  “I love you, but open communication is not one of your strong suits.”

“What are you talking about? We communicate fine.”

“That’s different. You and I know each other intimately. Once you start seeing one another naked and doing the things we do together and to each other, I think it means we can pretty much talk about anything. I mean, we’re at the stage where I can pee while you’re brushing your teeth and you don’t think about it. But you talking to a teenage boy about sex? That doesn’t seem awkward at all.”

He frowns. “I’m not exactly a rookie when it comes to sex, you know.”

“Baby, you are so far from being a rookie it isn’t even funny. But I mean talking about it. With someone who isn’t me. Someone who is practically your kid. And Ovi’s shy and sort of awkward so he was probably mortified that you were talking about whatever you were talking about.”

“I just told him to be careful and wrap his shit up. That the last thing he wanted was knocking her up or getting an STD.”

“Kind of ironic,” she grins. “You talking about condoms considering…”

“Yeah, I thought about that too. Kind of makes me a hypocrite.

“Well in all fairness, we were adults who knew exactly what we were getting into. It’s not that we didn’t know the risks. It’s just that we didn’t seem to give a shit about them. Which just means my blow job game is strong enough to temporarily wipe you of all your brain cells.”

Tyler smirks. “Temporarily? It’s five years later and we’re married with four kids. That’s a permanent loss of brain cells.”

Frowning, she smacks in across the ass with the towel. When she tries it a second time, he grabs a hold of the fabric and pulls her into him, covering her mouth with his in a long, slow kiss. The kind that has her standing on her tiptoes and her arms sneaking around his waist as her body curves into his.  And she breaks out of the kiss with a laugh when he slides one of his soaking wet hands down the back of her shorts. Struggling against him as he chuckles and holds her body against the counter with the full weight of his and proceeds to suck and nibble at the side of her neck.

“And you talk about me trying to seduce you?” she laughs, trying to use her elbows in his chest to push him away. “You’re like a fifteen year old. Nothing but raging hormones and pent up sexual frustration. Which makes no sense considering how much you actually manage to get laid on a regular basis. Oh shit!” she  curses, when his teeth grab a hold of that sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. “That’s going to leave a mark. What’s wrong with you?”

“Like you said. Nothing but raging hormones and pent up sexual frustration,” his palm slides down do her ass; tightly squeezing it through her shorts as his tongue soothes the bite mark he’d left on her skin.

“If this is your version of a midlife crisis, I’m totally okay with it,” she says, her hands pushing their way into his hair as his mouth moves across the neckline of her t-shirt.  “By the way, I bought one of those test things today. You know the ones that tell you when the best time to get pregnant is? You know, just in case I give in to your idiotic idea of another baby.”

“Just one more.”

“What if one turns into another two at once?”

“We’ll deal with it. And why do we need a test to tell us that? We just keep fucking like we do and it’ll just happen.”

“It will tell us which days are best. You know, the days where we have to put a little…extra…into it…”

He grins against her neck, beard scratching the tender skin. “I think I have extra I could put into it.”

“That’s the spirit. You never disappoint me.”

“Ever?” his lips travel along the side of her throat, his breath warm, tip of his nose tickling the skin as he moves up to just below her ear.

“Ever. I had high expectations you know. Of what you’d look like naked.”

“You actually thought of what I looked like naked before I got naked? When did you think about that?”

“My dirty little fantasies pretty much started when I walked into your place. Hard not to have sex dreams about a guy that looks like you do. I wasn’t even put off by the fact you had a chicken as a significant other. I think it was the eyes. And the big arms.”

“And the voice.”

“Yeah…” she sighs, fingernails digging into his scalp as he places a trail of kisses along the outer edge of her ear. “…that too….”

“So  you thought of me naked? When?”

“Of you know, when a girl is lonely and horny in bed at night.”

He chuckles. “That’s a turn on. Knowing you actually thought about me when…”

“I still do. When you’re away. Just so you know.”

“That’s pretty fucking hot. Not gonna lie.”

“I would have been so disappointed if you’d dropped your pants in that hotel room and you were a short dick man. That would have been it. I would not have let you anywhere near me. The disappointment would have been too great.”

“Well it’s a good thing for both of us that I lived up to your expectations.”

“Oh you did. And then some. The thing about a man having a big hands and feet is very much true.”

Both his hands find her ass now, drawing her tightly against him as he kisses her. Long. Deep. Slow. His tongue pushing its way into her mouth and finding hers.  And she willingly reciprocates, both hands sliding down to his shoulders. 

“Okay…” she pushes him away, fanning her face with her hand. “…you need to stop and take about five steps back or I honestly will jump you and not care who comes in and sees it.”

“They all have to learn sooner than later,” he reasons, and puts a hand on the back of her head and pulls her into another toe curling kiss.  Feeling her hands slide down his back and then in between them, hands slipping under the front of his t-shirt, finding the buckle on his belt.  One of her fingers slipping just under the waist of his jeans and teasing the skin there.

The sound of the sliding door being drawn open causes both of them to jump.

“Sorry,” a bashful Ovi says from the doorway. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your baby making but…”

“We weren’t making babies,” Esme says, as she clears her throat noisily and moves to grab her bottle of water. “You stopped that before it could happen.”

“In the kitchen?” Ovi sounds horrified.

Tyler  returns to the task of washing dishes. “Kid, there isn’t a place in this house that hasn’t been christened already. Might want to think about it every time you sit down somewhere.”

“Or not think about it because I know how distressing the thought of Tyler being naked can be,” Esme teases. “ Trust me, don’t think about it. It’s really disturbing.”

Her husband smirks.

“The kids just wanted something to drink,” Ovi says. “They were thirsty, so…”

She fetches a sleeve of juice boxes from the fridge and hands it to him.

“Did Tyler tell you?” he asks. “About who came to visit you today?”

“No, Tyler did not,” Tyler replies for her. “Because Tyler was busy trying to get laid first before telling her the bad news.”

“Who came to visit?” she glances between the two of them.

“You can go back outside now,” Tyler says to Ovi, who blinks at the force in his eyes and then gives an apologetic smile before slinking back through the sliding door.

“Who came to visit?” Esme asks again. “Oh God, please tell me it wasn’t my mother. Yesterday she called you a tall, cool, drink of water and I haven’t been the same since.”

“It wasn’t your mother. I would have actually preferred if it was your mother. As fucked as it is that I’d admit that.” Unplugging the sink, he dries his hands on the dish towel and then reaches into the back pocket of his jeans in order to pull out the business card that her ex had given him. “He wants you to call him.”

Arching and eyebrow, she plucks the card from his hand. Immediately frowning when she sees who it belongs to. “He actually gave you a business card? Who the hell does that? And why does he have business cards? He’s retired for Christ sakes.”

“He likes to throw it around that he was a Marine. Expected me to be impressed.”

“He thinks it’s some kind of power move,” she rolls her eyes. “No one actually gives a shit. Did you kick the shit out of him?”

“No. But not because I didn’t want to. He’s kind of an arrogant prick, yeah? Thinks pretty highly of himself. You didn’t tell me he was that much older than you.”

“Eleven years is not that much older.”

“Older enough. So what was it? Daddy issues?”

Her eyes narrow. “Please tell me you’re joking and not being serious when you say that. Because you know about my father and what happened and I will kick you in the nuts. We’re not going to fight over this. Over my ex husband.”

“I don’t want to fight,” he assures her. “But he is a fucking asshole. You weren’t wrong about that. He definitely doesn’t understand that what he did was wrong. Kept trying to tell me all this bullshit that you had your own role to play in it and you were partly to blame to.”

“And you believe that?”

“I told him it didn’t matter what you may have said or did. He didn’t have a reason to do the things he did or say the things he said. There’s no fucking excuse for any of that.”

“He’ a narcissistic. I told you that. He loves to gaslight people.”

“What I don’t understand is why you never told me that you were having a baby with him.”

She blinks. “What?”

“He told me that you guys were having a baby. Which I was kind of surprised to hear about because you never once mentioned it yourself in the past five years.”

“There was no reason to tell you about that.”

“I’m your husband. How much more of a reason do you need?”

She taps the edge of the business card against the counter top. “It was way before you. Before I even knew you existed. You would have been still been married to your first wife at the time. Austin would have been a baby. Why would I bring up something from that long ago?”

“I talk about my life from that long ago,” he points out, as he leans back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“That’s totally different and you know it.  You lost a child. You have every right and reason to talk about him. Why wouldn’t you tell me about him? He’s still very much an important part of your life.”

“And this baby wasn’t? The one you were having with your ex?”

“It was never a baby, Tyler. Not in the true sense of the word. I’d only known for a week when I lost it. There’s no comparison between that and what you went through.  I didn’t see a reason to tell you about it because it wasn’t that serious.”

“So my wife, almost has a baby with her first husband but there’s no reason for me to know about?” he scoffs, and shakes his head. “That makes no sense.”

“Why are you making a big deal about this? It was a long time ago. And I didn’t almost have a baby. I didn’t even come close. It wasn’t meant to be obviously. Could you imagine having a kid with that guy? It would have been a fucking nightmare. Things happen for a reason. You say that all the time.”

“You just would think it would come up in a conversation, yeah? You’ve been pregnant three times and not once did you think of bringing it up? Like maybe you were worried it might happen again?”

“I was worried. I just kept it to myself. All pregnant women worry about things like that.”

“Sure. And they probably tell their husbands about it. And you know why? Because they weren’t the only ones who made the goddamn baby in the first place. Last time I checked, it took the two of us.”

“Don’t be so goddamn condescending,” she huffs, and tosses the business card onto the counter. “I hate when you get that way. That fucking tone you get when you think you’re somehow morally superior.”

“I have never…ever…thought that.”

‘Bullshit. You do it all the time. You don’t even realize you’re doing it.  Every time you don’t like something I have to say. Or you don’t agree with some decision I made back in a time where you didn’t even exist in my life yet. I may not agree with all the decisions you’ve made, but at least I support you. I don’t have this fucking chip on my shoulder.”

“I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. I…”

“I didn’t tell you because that part of my life didn’t matter any more. Because I just wanted to forget about it and put it behind me. Because once you came into my life, everyone and everything before you ceased to exist. I didn’t want to remember all of that. And then Millie came along and I had everything I wanted. I had this amazing guy and a beautiful baby and all that other bullshit was left in the past where it belonged. So I wasn’t intentionally keeping anything from you. I was keeping it from myself.”

He grabs a hold of her wrist as she tries to stomp off. “Don’t do that,” he says.  “You do that every time we get in fight.”

“Only because I’m this close…” she holds her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “…to punching you in the face. You know I hate when you pull that self righteous bullshit with me.”

She struggles against his grip, but he only tightens his hold on her.

“Not everything is about you, Tyler. My past is just that. You didn’t need to know. And I’m sorry if that pisses you off or hurts your ego or…”

“Stop,” his voice is surprisingly tender despite the power in his grasp. “…just stop.”  And when she opens her mouth to speak, he pulls her into him, speaking in between pecks to her lips.  “…just…fucking…stop…”

“You fucking stop,” she retorts. “Stop it with those stupid eyes and your stupidly good-looking face and that stupid voice of yours.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first time he’s ever surrendered first. There’s been arguments that have gone on for days because neither of them wanted to admit defeat.  “I didn’t mean to be a condescending asshole. I don’t mean to be that way and you know it.”

She reaches up and runs her hands along his beard, cradling his face in her hands, thumbs brushing over his lips. “Sometimes I worry we’re not doing this marriage thing very well.”

“Why? Because we fight? All couples fight. We don’t fight over things that can’t be fixed.”

“I worry I’m a shitty wife. That I’m just like you’re ex.”

“You are far from being anything like my ex. Trust me. And you’re not a shitty wife. You’re an amazing wife. And an amazing mother. I’m not the easiest person to live with. I know that. Why do you think the chicken shit everywhere? It was definitely out of spite.”

She can’t help but laugh at that.

“But I love you. And I love our life together. Fights and all.”

“You just like the making up.”

He grins. “I’m not going to deny that.” His eyes never leave hers as her fingers gently trace the various scars that mar his face. Her touch is soft, soothing. And he feels it to his very soul.

She stands on her tip toes and kisses him. Short and sweet. Yet powerful all at the same time. Feeling so much love and trust and forgiveness in the simple press of her lips against his.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t love you as much as I do,” she admits. “So it would be easier to be angry with you. And I know I’m not easy to live with either. That I test your patience. A lot. I’m not perfect. Far from it.”

“Neither am I. But you’re still here.”

She smiles, presses her lips against his forehead. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

And it’s the truth. He’s her happy place. Where she feels safe. Protected. All the things she’s never even known she’d been desperate for until she’d walked into that little shack in the Australian outback.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #chris hemsworth character #sanctuary

[missdaviswrites]

Fic Writer Intro--MissDavis

I just got back from @ficwritersretreat2019, where we talked about ways to support and promote other fic writers. One idea was to write introductory posts for ourselves, then reblog each others’ posts to spread the word to all our followers. Below I have tagged the other writers who went to this year’s retreat, but even if you’ve never been, feel free to introduce yourself and your own writing. If you tag me, I'll reblog your post, too! 

I’m MissDavis and I've been writing BBC Sherlock fic since shortly after s3. Most of my work is Johnlock with some occasional Johnlockary thrown in for good measure. Here’s the link to all of my writing. If you’re looking for something specific, here’s a breakdown by ship and length, along with summaries from AO3:

Johnlock:

Long fics (50-100+K):

Breakable rated E After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it’s supposed to be. Part 1 of the Breakable Not Broken series.

Full Court Press  rated E College basketball AU: Sherlock is the team’s best shooter. John is the team’s best ball-handler.

Side Effects rated E WIP, currently 10/17 chapters now complete! Sequel to Breakable. Life is a lot better for Sherlock and John than it was a year ago. Yes, John still can't walk and Sherlock is still on antidepressants, but they're married now, and almost everything else is back to their version of normal. They have a dog. Sherlock's solving cases again. But when Moriarty learns of their marriage, he escapes from prison and takes it upon himself to make their lives miserable. Is Sherlock really up to the challenge of catching a criminal whose only goal is to make sure that he and John don't live happily ever after?

Mid-length fics (10-35K):

Chaperones  rated T "You want to pretend to be a couple so we can chaperone a trip to Disney World with Rosie’s class and you won’t have to share a room with a stranger?“

Christmas With You rated T Watch Sherlock, John and Rosie over the years as they celebrate the season as only they can.

Welcome Christmas  rated T Join John and Sherlock at Baker Street as they celebrate Rosie's first Christmas and beyond. From Rosie crawling around the flat as they tiptoe around each other en route to their first kiss, to a happy retirement with a young grandson who wants to be just like Grandad and Papa, this fic shows how Sherlock and John celebrate Christmas together through the years.

Breaking Christmas rated M Join me in some established relationship Johnlock as I attempt to make Sherlock and John participate in some Seasonal Fucking Cheer. Ficlets that are part of the Breakable Not Broken series.

So This Is Christmas rated T Sherlock, John and Rosie celebrate the Christmas season with the rest of their family. It's not always perfect, but they all do their best. Most of the time. AKA the Christmas ficlets that include Eurus.

Clutter-Free rated E 5 times John made Sherlock clean up the flat and one time he didn’t have to.

Short fics (2K-9K):

The Librarians of Baker Street  rated E Sherlock is a cataloguer who's forced to work the reference desk once a week. Which he hates. Or at least, he used to hate it, until the library hired a new reference librarian. Guess who?

Just a Touch rated E John has trouble falling asleep these days. There’s one thing he can do that always seems to help, but he’s stuck in this hotel room with Sherlock and doesn’t think he’ll get the chance. How will he ever find relief and a good night’s sleep?

If You Lead Me rated M Enough time has passed since Mary’s death that John is finally ready to start a new relationship. With Sherlock, he hopes. But given Sherlock’s stated aversion to romantic entanglements, John is a bit worried about being rejected, and doesn’t know how to proceed. Fortunately, there’s someone who can help him along.

Sherlock Is Actually a Cat Person rated E John brings home a kitten. Sherlock is not okay with it.

The Last Time Alone rated E But it wasn’t enough, not for John. He needed more. He needed someone to hold besides a child, and someone to kiss on the lips and not just the top of the head. He needed sly looks across the dinner table and to know if he put Rosie to bed early he might emerge from her room to find a candle lit and dessert served just for two.

The One Where No One Proposes rated G Sherlock inherits his parents’ wedding rings. It’s ridiculous that they mean something to him. He doesn’t plan to do anything with them. Sentiment.

Equal Footing  rated E Sherlock had certainly never shown any interest in women’s footwear, or in seeing John appear as anything but fully male. But five extra inches—that opened up all sorts of interesting possibilities.

Very short fics (under 2K):

Dirty Laundry rated E If they got far enough along, John knew he would stop noticing the steady clanking thump of the washer, but so far he’d been unable to keep himself from being distracted.

A Boyfriend in Need rated G John's in medical school now, but it's Sherlock who's taking care of him today. A sequel to Full Court Press.

Rosie and the Rainbows rated M Sherlock isn’t exactly opposed to Rosie joining the Girl Guides, but he doesn’t really see the appeal, either. It ends up being much worse than he imagined.

To a Better Year than Last rated G After the life-altering events of the last twelve months, John is more than ready for the new year to begin. Short sequel to Breakable, from John's POV.

Training  rated G Sherlock had terrible running form; they would have to work on that later. For now, John just ran, happy that for once Sherlock was the one chasing after him.

Honey Bee rated G Rosie gets stung by a bee. It’s not a big deal, except that it is.

He Sees You When You're Sleeping rated T Sherlock and John return to the Holmes’ family home for Christmas to find that Mummy has redecorated.

Wrong Disc rated G Two years later and DVDs that Mary made before she died are still showing up every now and then. Thankfully.

The Cute One  rated G "This post says that whenever there are three people, there must be one who's the clever one, one who's the cool one, and one who's the cute one.” Rosie looked from John to Sherlock and back again. “So which of us is which?”

Better  rated G Sometimes the world just calls for a bit of comfort. A 221B ficlet.

Let's Go on a Family Holiday (& Then Not Leave the Room) rated T Sherlock looked up, noting that John’s bare chest lacked the glossy sheen of suncream that he had been anticipating. A 221B ficlet

Johnlockary

Could Be Fun 36K words, rated E This is the first fic I started writing when I got into the Sherlock fandom. John, Sherlock and Mary embark on a new stage of their relationship. Nine chapters of smut and snark, canon-compliant through series 3.

The Life We Choose 16K words, rated M Based on the "30 Days of Sherlock Challenge,” a series of ficlets from the points of view of Sherlock, John, Mary, and, of course, Alice Watson: I have three parents. Some of my friends have three, too, or even four, but none of them has three who all live together, which makes me the luckiest out of all my friends.

Imagine the Christmas Dinners 15K words, rated M A series of Christmas-themed ficlets, featuring Sherlock, John and Mary over the years, with appearances by Baby Watson, Mummy Holmes, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade.

Better Off Together 9K words, WIP, now complete at 16K! Rated M What if everyone lived happily ever after? Yes, I’m still writing this, maybe 1 or 2 chapters left to go!

An Afternoon Interruption 7K words, rated E Still the only John/Sherlock/Mary/Sally fic on AO3!

The Clothes You Once Wore  4K words, rated E Mary took a deep breath and conceded to herself that maybe she did want to put on the assassin outfit and tie him to the bed and have her way with him. Maybe Sherlock had just known it before she did. Possibly my favorite short fic I’ve written.

Got You Pegged 2K words, rated E Sherlock could think of six different ways they could make it fit using common household items he had in the flat, but he didn’t think he could wait that long.

The Space Between 2K words, rated E This one is really more Johnlock than Johnlockary. Written as part of the Come At Once 24-hour porn challenge.

Safe Not Sound   2K words, rated E "Oh, come on. I'm willing to put up with all this 'gun safety' nonsense you and John are insisting on, the least you could do is give me what I want in return."

Brand New Day 1500 words, rated T Breakfast, babies, and three people trying to do their best.

While You Were Sleeping  1K words, rated E “We—” Mary started and Sherlock pressed his fingers a bit harder against her leg. She inhaled. “He’ll wake up.”

Storage Space  695 words, rated M Sherlock has his own space at John and Mary’s house now. The first fic I ever posted!

Bed rated T It’s a bit tight, but they all fit. A 221B ficlet.

Other Ships or Ship-free

All We Have  5K words, rated T, Gen. My angsty, pre-series 4 interpretation of what might have happened to a third Holmes brother.

One Night, Twenty Weeks 4K words, rated E, Mary/Molly. Mary has a problem. Molly helps her out.

Actually, the Baby Sits on You 3K words, rated G, Gen. Sherlock watches the Watsons’ baby for the first time.

Tea for Three 2K words, rated E, Mrs. Hudson/Mrs. Holmes/Mr. Holmes. Mrs. Hudson had been with many men over the years—older, younger, single, divorced, married and seeing her on the side either secretly or openly—but this was the first time she had ever been with a man while his wife lay right beside them.

Tiny Little Pieces 1594 words, rated G, John/Mary. They watched to the end of the DVD; Sherlock smiled and winked at them and John flicked off the screen again. “So. That’s Sherlock.” He gave her a smile that was even more forced than the one Sherlock had just displayed. “It’s funny. I’d almost forgotten what he sounded like.”

Not in the Job Description 1,505 words, rated E, Sherlock/Sally. The case has Sherlock stumped, and John’s not around to help him focus. Someone has to step up and help him clear his mind.

Once He Is Gone 1K words, rated T, Gen. John is fine at Sherlock’s funeral. Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s been to funerals for so many of his friends. Why would Sherlock’s be any different?

When Mary Met Sally 766 words, rated G, Gen. Sally stops by Baker Street with a case but finds out that Sherlock isn’t home.

Kick  Gen, rated G. Mary is pregnant, John’s not speaking to her, and Sherlock’s still in hospital. A 221B ficlet.

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Tagging: @hubblegleeflower @pipmer @pippn-frodo @totallysilvergirl @daringlydomestic @prettyrealisticjohnlockfanart @cumberqueer @addictedstilltheaddict @disaronnus @weneedtotalkaboutsherlock @quantum-sparrow @blogstandbygo @amindamazed @fearlessdiva930 @onwallsiwrite

and tagging *anyone* else who wants to share--really, feel free to promote your fic!

#fic writer intro #sherlock fic #johnlock #johnlockary #my fic

[talkingismylifewrites]

18 19 and 22 ! love your work and hope you're doing ok!

18. what is a line/scene you’re really proud of? give us the dvd commentary for that scene.

Crouching down, he began to shove the photos back into the box, careful not to bend them or touch the glossy finish. But the moment he picked up the first handful, he stopped, staring in confusion down at his own face squished next to John's. He flipped it over to the next photo, this time just him grinning at the camera. The next, John, looking rather displeased, Roger's hand holding his cheeks tightly. Next. The two of them curled up on a couch, their heads bent together in sleep. Next. John from behind, but in Roger's fur coat. Roger hugging John. Roger and John drunk at a party, winking at the camera over glasses of beer. The two of them eating orange slices, showing off orange rind teeth. John asleep on the bus. Roger attempting to pour tea. John tuning his bass. Roger in John's lap. John laughing while Roger wrapped an arm around his waist. John and Roger. John and Roger. John and Roger.

John and Roger kissing. Roger was half on John, one hand threaded through John's hair, the other tight on his waist. It wasn't a kiss between friends, or even a kiss you'd give as a joke. It was a kiss. One between lovers.

Roger dropped the photos.

In the films, your memory comes back in some dramatic fashion full of tears and pain and a sequence of someone shaking apart while they clutch at their brain, agonized by the rush of memories. The amnesiac panics and flutters, weeping as it all comes back, hitting them over and over like a tsunami of pain and memory.

It was not like that for Roger. For Roger, they returned with a half sigh and the relief of finally coming home. It was like the missing piece that had been gone for so long finally snapped back into place, the key slipped into the lock, his compass finally pointed north. He picked up the photograph and his head broke through the surf, and finally, finally, he could breathe again. Out of the water and onto the shore. Between one second and the next, he felt whole after months and months of feeling empty and broken, searching for everything he had lost.

Roger rocked back onto his heels, collapsing on to the ground in muted shock as it all came back. Everything from their fights to their relationship to every damn dream he’d had and written off as a fantasy. John—his John—not Dominique. All of it, everything he had thought was true was wrong. It was all wrong, all of it. Dominique was wrong. Just being John's friend was wrong. Not loving John was wrong.

"Holy shit," he whispered, crouching down to trace the photo with shaking fingers. Freddie had taken it, in '79. They'd been over at Brian's for dinner and Scrabble, stretching it late into the night. Roger had been complaining about it being late and wanting to go home, but John had been winning and didn't want to forfeit. Roger had crawled into his lap and murmured all the dirty things he was going to do him when they got home. After one particularly filthy suggestion, John had given in and kissed him, licking deep into his mouth just long enough for Freddie to snap the pic, before throwing in his tiles and dragging a smug Roger home.

Because they still lived together. Not as friends, as partners. Boyfriends, lovers, paramours, as John's Kept Man. They were together, had been since January 21, 1978—Roger had missed their anniversary. He'd forgotten it, laid up in bed and sickly and John had never said anything.

"John," Roger murmured, dropping the picture again. "John!"

He had to call John, he had to see him. Scrambling to his feet, he practically flew out of the bedroom—their bedroom—and down the stairs, stumbling as he skipped steps in his haste to get to the phone, to get to John. What would he say? It's me; I remember; I love you; how could I ever forget you?

so i’ve definitely spoken about this being my favorite passage, but i can’t deny that its probably the section i’m most proud of. first of all, it was one of the first scenes ever written. for dyldyl; right off the bat i knew exactly how i wanted the reveal to go (although slightly different in some parts, instead of it being a photo of john and roger kissing, it was going to be a letter roger had written to john that discussed a morning bj in exchange for putting away the laundry). i wanted roger’s initial reaction to the revelation that he’d forgotten to be confusion that melted into sheer joy, and then for it to melt into horror and hurt. 

i also wanted to show that the act of remembering itself is not traumatic, in fact, it’s welcomed and almost as though roger can finally relax. roger remembers and he’s fine, he can breathe again, he’ll find john and be reunited with the man that he loves. 

i also very sneakily reference this particular scene many many times throughout john’s chapters as a kind of juxtaposition of who they are. john spends his nights sitting in the closet staring at their photos and remembering what they once had; so does roger. john also runs down the stairs the same way as roger in his haste to get to him, he skips steps, grabs the banister, spins himself around, he’s leaping down the steps to get to him. 

and, there are some mirrored references to john’s hurt in the same way as roger’s hurt. john’s hurt by the fact that roger has forgotten, roger is hurt by the fact that john remembered. the two of them are two sides of the same coin, and roger regaining his memory puts them both on equal if shaky ground. 

furthermore, the act of hiding the photographs is the kiss of death for both john and roger. for john, tucking away the photographs (which he has admitted are mostly his; john is the keeper of their relationship not just in pictures but in memories as well) is the sign that things are at their lowest, that the relationship he knew and cherished has ended. for roger, the hiding of the photographs is the very same, only for very different reasons. one was done purposefully, the other was done to them. 

i like to think that i managed to get the right sort of mood and expression of emotions right for something like this, and that i did roger’s memories justice. 

19. who is the easiest/hardest character for you to write about? why?

john is actually really hard for me, which is surprising because i’m literally writing four chapters from his pov that come in at 157k, plus however long chapter seven will be. i think it just takes me a while to get into his mindset? and sometimes i’ll write something that’s too ooc. john is so reserved in the sense that he holds himself really taught, and when he does break its an explosion of emotion and sort of overwhelming. he’s funny and witty and rude and so strong? but he’s also reserved. i tend to write to extremes, and that doesn’t commute with john. if it were roger dealing with john’s amnesia, it would be lots of anger and fury and tears and an overwhelming need to be supported, while john is kinda more ‘i’m going to hold it all right here in my chest until i die please excuse me while i go lick my wounds in private’. so it takes me a while and a couple of rewrites to get that tone exactly perfect. hence why john’s chapters have taken me so much longer (that, and the length). 

i also really struggle with freddie’s motives and voice, which surprises me because i think i’m the most like freddie? (okay, if freddie and roger had a baby and it was tag team raised by crystal and john). i actually tried writing a fic from freddies pov completely and i’m not gonna lie i really struggled with it. i think its because freddie is such an oxymoron of a personality. outward he’s very bright and brash and very social, constantly in your face with who he is and how he behaves, but internally he’s very shy and also reserved. his public image is very different from that of his private, and it can be hard to juggle the two of them. if you make the mistake of making him that brash and loud person when the time calls for his quiet side, you can lose the character in the blink of an eye. in order for me to understand his character and the voice i want for him, i have to try a little harder and write a little slower. 

it’s easy to make freddie just be like ‘darling’ and ‘oh how very dare you!’ and all other sorts of platitudes, but that wasn’t him. roger has said he was very shy and insecure, and that he put on an act, which is easily seen in certain interviews or when he’s been filmed without his knowledge. so finding that balance between devastatingly funny and extroverted freddie with his more introverted side can be hard. especially because the very last thing i’d ever want to do is make him a caricature of who he was. 

the easiest pov for me is roger because i basically just think: is this how a gold retriever raised in a frat house with access to cocaine would behave?? and if the answer is yes then i know it’s roger. if no, then it’s john. if fuck yeah, where’s the booze? it’s crystal. 

22. have you cried while writing a fic?

yes, but only because i was so frustrated over it. never because what i wrote was sad, because if i’m thinking it, i can compartmentalize it. i’ve cried reading fics, tho

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Rope Trick (baon)

Summary:   It wasn't that Stretch really minded being told what to do. He just had to weigh how much fun he would have obeying versus not.... 

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Role Reversal, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Sex, Lemony Goodness, Not Work Appropriate, Joking Reference To Using Drugs to Make Someone Take a Damn Nap

Warnings:  I do occasionally throw Not Work Appropriate content in this series, so if you missed it, note the tags. This chapter contains all that with a little light bondage. All happy-times and consensual.

part of the ‘by any other name’

Read on AO3

-or-

Read More Here

~~*~~

The thing was, Stretch didn’t really mind doing stuff when Edge asked. Sure, it wasn’t quite as fun when the requests were for tossing laundry in the dryer or washing the breakfast dishes, but hey, you took the good, you took the bad, learned about the facts of life, all that shit.

Sometimes, though, Edge didn’t ask so much as he…well, ordered, and Stretch wasn’t sure if it was an ex-captain of the guard thing or if it was just an Edge thing, but if he were really, really honest, he didn’t mind that very much, either.

He highly suspected that Edge knew he didn’t mind, too, but it didn’t mean he had to make it easier for him, did it? Nope.

So, when Edge came up behind him on the porch that afternoon and loomed, Stretch gave him a minute to glare, smoking the last of his cigarette before he asked, lazily, “okay, baby love, what exactly has you in a twist on this fine, fine day?”

Didn’t hurt that the faint tightening of his jaw told him that Edge wasn’t any fonder of his new pet name than he had been ‘momma bear’. Stretch planned to draw that minor annoyance out for a while yet, hell, yes, he did. It was always worth it in the end.

“Go take a shower and meet me in the bedroom,” Edge told him curtly before he turned on his heel and walked back into the house, leaving Stretch on the porch with a half-burned cigarette and an equally burning curiosity.

He took enough time to finish it before he stood up, groaning as his joints popped. Okay, he’d bite and see where this was going to take them. Sure as hell wasn’t like he had any better plans, especially not if he took Edge’s resourcefulness into account. His bones were already tingling a little thinking about it.

Edge was nowhere around when he went in; off somewhere plotting manically, he guessed, and that was all right. At least Stretch’s end of this bargain was an easy one.

If Stretch had to guess, he’d say washing up was because he’d been smoking like a chimney for the past couple days as ciggies were the only thing keeping him from running screaming out into the unforgiving world/their neighborhood, and he didn’t want to scare any of the kiddos that way.

Stretch knew a little something about the time/space continuum and if he didn’t know better, he’d say they were stuck in a fluctuation because this week was starting to seem pretty fucking endless and that was a fact.

Sure, he loved having Edge around, but that also meant having Edge around. When he wasn’t off taking extra jogs through the neighborhood or filling their already overflowing freezer with neatly labeled packages, he was prowling through the house like a caged leopard, cleaning everything so thoroughly that Stretch was pretty sure he’d seen the furniture cringing away from him.

Edge seemed to be struggling a little with the whole ‘relaxing’ thing he was supposed to be doing, and his struggle was becoming Stretch’s battle.

It wasn’t like he had any good recommendations to share. Naps were Stretch preferred stress relief, and yeah, he wasn’t getting Edge to take a damn nap without chloroform, which Stretch suspected went against that whole ‘love and cherish thing’ he’d promised not that long ago. His fault for not reading the fine print.

Television was the next best option, but that was usually a nighttime activity for them, one that involved copious cuddling and maybe some sex. Stretch hadn’t been able to convince Edge that ‘Travel Man’ would be just as excellent at lunchtime.

(he could have gone to the lab to escape for a while, could have, hadn’t been back to the lab since…and the first time he’d tried, he’d only gotten to the door and frozen, dread thick in his soul, and he couldn’t force his feet to go down the stairs, he couldn’t, and…and…and…)

…yeah, much as he loved Edge, he was this close to saying fuck it all and calling Asgore, begging him to let Edge come back to work early, if only to spare his own sanity.

So, hell, yeah, he’d gone right upstairs for a shower when Edge told him. Didn’t half-ass it, either. Stretch scrubbed up with plenty of body wash on the weird pink bath poof that Edge had bought, and who came up with these things? Whoever it was, Stretch owned them a G or two, because seeing Edge using it with great dignity in the shower every morning was worth getting up early for.

Stretch soaped up thoroughly, sudsing away any hint of cigarette smoke. Instead of putting on his dirty clothes back on, he tossed them into the hamper and went to the bedroom in just a towel, dewy-fresh as a spring virgin.

Only to blink at what Edge was wearing, his towel wilting in his grasp.

The roads were kinda treacherous in the winter, or so Stretch had been told, and Edge always put his motorcycle into storage when the weather turned snowy. That was a good thing, his baby was all about safety, but the bad part was Stretch missed seeing Edge in his leather pants during the winter months. It was a view that made him long for warming sunshine of spring.

Apparently, Edge had decided to use this opportunity to break them out a little bit early. The belt hit his pelvis below the curves of his iliac crests and he was wearing a cut-off black t-shirt that left the intricate lines of his spine on display, the whole ensemble paired with elbow-length red gloves.

It was disconcertingly similar to what he’d been wearing when they’d first landed in this universe and even then, Stretch had noticed how attractive Edge was; he’d been depressed, not fucking blind.

The only difference was his bare feet, pale bone against the dark carpet of their bedroom and Stretch let himself focus on that for a minute, trying to gather up his fleeing wits.

“if i’d known we were roleplaying, i would’ve picked a better costume.” Not too bad; at least he’d managed a decent level of sass.

A quick glance up confirmed that Edge heard the roughness in his voice, damn it. He smirked, cocking his hips in a way that made all the magic in Stretch’s mouth go dry.

“What you’re wearing is perfect,” Edge said. He crooked a finger at Stretch. “Come here.”

He did, but he took his damn time about it because he wasn’t a puppy that came when he was called. Unfortunately, standing in front of Edge with all that tantalizing bone within reach was exactly where Stretch wanted to be, so it kinda ruined his defiance.

With two fingers, Edge plucked the towel loose, letting it fall to Stretch’s feet and leaving him completely bare. He gave the newly exposed bones a long, slow look before he said, “Get on the bed.”

Oh, so that’s how they were playing? Stretch didn’t move, only asked sweetly, “what’s the magic word?”

Edge coolly raised a brow bone at him. “Is it worth hearing me say it once, knowing that I’ll have you screaming it later?”

“promises, promises.” But Stretch grudgingly did it, fussily making himself comfy in the middle of the bed with his head on one of the pillows. The way Edge’s eye lights raked down him made magic flush in his joints, stirring in his pelvic cavity and Stretch forced himself not to squirm. Didn’t want Edge to think he was too eager, not yet, anyway.

That was when he caught sight of the length of rope in Edge’s hand.

There was no way to hide the bright surge of his magic flaring, but Stretch went with nonchalant anyway. May as well make the attempt. “planning something special, babe?”

“I know you’d let me tie you up, if I asked,” Edge said bluntly. He held out the rope and let it dangle from his fingers. The end brushed against Stretch’s femur, scratchily ticklish.

Yeah, okay, fuck nonchalance.

“fuck, yes, i would,” Stretch breathed. Almost automatically, he lifted his hands over his head, crossing them at the wrists in blatant invitation. Edge’s eye lights narrowed, the crimson deepening.

“But I find I’m uncomfortable with the idea.” It took a moment for the meaning to filter through and once it did, Stretch could only blink in surprise, some of his desire fading back. “I haven’t been able to get past the idea that it might hurt you, love, and I wouldn’t be able to stand that. I couldn’t.”

“okay,” Stretch said, slowly. There wasn’t much point in arguing about it; he could snarl about his low HP and intent until the universes turned over again and shook them out someplace new, but in the end, Edge felt how he felt, and it was his choice. Sooooo…what was up with the rope? “then what did you have in mind?”

Edge shifted to put a knee on the bed, leaning over where Stretch’s hands were still above his head. He set the length of rope in Stretch’s hands and gently closed his fingers around it. It was soft in his grasp and Stretch could easily picture Edge testing lengths of rope, making sure to find something that wouldn’t be rough or irritating on his bones.

“I want you to hold that,” Edge told him. One gloved finger traced lightly over Stretch’s and he tightened his grip reflexively. “Keep your hands there, and don’t let go.”

“is that all?” Stretch asked skeptically and Edge hummed in amusement.

“No, as a matter of fact,” he said lightly. “I want your promise that you won’t let go.”

Oh, that was dirty pool, wasn’t it. But if that was the way Edge wanted to play…

”i promise.”

“Don’t let go,” Edge warned, and that earned him a scowl because Stretch had promised, hadn’t he? But that was okay, Stretch knew all his warning buttons, too, and knew exactly how to push them.

“you got it, boss.” Stretch didn’t miss the way Edge went briefly still, the faint tremor that went through him.

He leaned down, close to Stretch’s ear canal, and whispered, “Careful, don’t earn yourself a debt that you can’t repay.”

Stretch only tilted his skull until it gently knocked against Edge’s. “my mouth has been writing blank checks since i was born. we going to play or not?”

In answer, Edge moved down the bed to straddle Stretch’s femurs. The leather of his pants against his legs matched the leather of his gloves, buttery-soft, rasping against bone as he ran his fingers down Stretch’s rib cage, tracing his sternum, the fragile lines of his collarbone.

His touch was so familiar and once upon a time, in another world when he was another person, Stretch would have thought he’d get bored of hands that knew him so well. He might have laughed about it carelessly and moved on to the next anonymous body, and hands that didn’t know a thing about him and didn’t care to.

Now he could only whimper softly, the rope laying heavy in his own hands as Edge lingered at places he knew were sensitive; the spot where his ribs met his sternum, teasing the cartilage of his spine within his rib cage. Edge knew him, knew every part of him, and Stretch craved that touch like his own breath.

Those gloved fingertips skirted along his pelvis, swirling the heavy cloud of unformed magic that surged towards his touch.

Weakly, Stretch managed a teasing, “what are you thinking? pick a toy, any toy, babe, and you can play all you want.”

Edge took hold of his pubic symphysis firmly enough to make Stretch yelp, hooking his finger into the notch, and said bluntly, “I want your cock.”

The words were barely spoken when his magic took shape, giving Edge what he’d asked for. He took hold of the shaft in both hands, rubbing his thumbs up the underside, his weight holding Stretch down when he moaned and tried to lurch up into that touch.

“Beautiful,” Edge whispered, “Your cock is always so beautiful.”

Stretch squirmed, feeling magic heating in his cheek bones. He had a little of a love/hate thing going for the way Edge liked to talk about him. He didn’t want to hear that shit, except for how he desperately did, he didn’t want to want to hear it—all his fumbling thoughts shorted out when Edge shimmied down to crouch over him, tonguing lightly at the head, a smear of orange magic vibrant against the crimson of his tongue.

“fuck,” Stretch croaked out, twisting the rope in his hands, feeling the slight burn as it abraded lightly against the bones. Edge’s mouth was hot, always, the lush warmth of his magic reflective of his HP. The curl of his tongue was teasing, refusing to find a rhythm and when Stretch tried to arch up, firm hands settled on his pelvis, holding him down implacably.

Distantly, he had to give Edge credit; whether he’d come up with the idea himself or he read about it somewhere, trying to keep his hands tight around the rope while Edge was taking him apart with equal parts gentleness and calculated ruthlessness was nearly an unbearable struggle.

It took every ounce of his dwindling restraint to keep from grabbing Edge’s head and make him stop teasing, fuck, he couldn’t, he—

Even if he could have covered his mouth with his hands, there was no way Stretch could have smothered his cry of disappointment when Edge drew away, licking his teeth clean. The heavy way he was breathing was satisfying at least, the hot, crimson glow of his eye lights promising.

When Edge unzipped his pants, Stretch expected him to pull out his cock, hoping that maybe they’d get some nice, simple frottage going. He loved it when Edge held their cocks together, the slick slide of their magic in his fist, and both of them coming over the deep crimson of Edge’s glove would be a lovely sight.

Instead, he moved to slide his pants off entirely and Stretch was not expecting it to reveal the soft folds of a cunt.

“edge…” Stretch started, concerned. Two gloved fingertips resting lightly against his teeth silenced him.

“Trust me to know what I want,” Edge told him softly.

“i trust you,” Stretch whispered hoarsely, because he did, he trusted Edge with his life, his soul, his sanity, everything, but not always with himself. He still couldn’t help but watch as Edge straddled him again, slipping a hand between his own legs to circle a thumb over his clit.

“I’ve been practicing,” Edge groaned, his hips pushing into his own touch.

That sounded ungodly hot. The thought of Edge alone on their bed with his knees spread wide and two fingers deep inside of himself…or maybe using a toy, teasing himself with a dildo or a vibrator. Stretch wouldn’t have been the slightest bit surprised to find out that Edge had thoroughly researched best practices for learning to orgasm through penetration. It had taken him a little while to get into the physicality of sex, but once he had, Edge was the furthest thing from prudish about it.

Even from here, Stretch could see his pussy was glistening wetly and hell, maybe he’d missed a show while he was in the shower, what a fucking shame.

He only noticed how hard he was gripping the rope when his fingers started aching and Stretch forcibly relaxed his hands even as he caught his breath, not even blinking as Edge shuffled back, reaching between them to hold his cock, guiding it to press against slick folds.

“ah, fuck, fuck, babe,” Stretch gasped as Edge slid down. He couldn’t look away, watching his cock disappear into him. Edge’s sockets were closed, his tongue caught lightly between his teeth and he was so gorgeously tight, lushly wet. He took his time, moving agonizingly slow, until Stretch was deep inside him, feeling his cunt clenching sweetly around him as Edge settled against him.

“There,” Edge said hoarsely. He opened his sockets, his eye lights wide and soft, spreading his hands out on Stretch’s rib cage for balance. The first tentative shift of his hips dragged a cry from deep in Stretch’s soul. They’d only done this a couple of times before and it had been nothing like this, any of his own pleasure muted, washed away by Edge’s obvious discomfort in it.

Nothing at all like this, with Edge finding a rhythm, clumsily at first and then moving with more confidence. Shifting and squirming until he found an angle that left both of them gasping. Edge moved faster, his jaw dropping open as groans strangled out of him, his own control shaking loose as he moved harder, relentlessly.

Stretch struggled against the rope as if it was actually binding him, because wasn’t it? Binding him with a promise and he could only clutch it, grinding it painfully into his finger bones and he could only let Edge ride him, the tight softness of his cunt easing and then sucking him in each time Edge rose and fell. It was too much, it was unbearable, all the heated magic in his bones coalescing into a hot point of pleasure.

“oh, fuck, i can’t—” was all Stretch managed to choke out and then he was coming, his magic flaring with the throes of his orgasm, and he didn’t let go of the rope, he didn’t, shaking and whimpering, and coming inside Edge with a hot flood. It lasted a tiny eternity until he collapsed back against the mattress, sweat dripping from him and Edge still on top of him, unmoving while Stretch slowly went soft inside him.

Um, yeah, he hadn’t actually ordered a side of humiliation with his sex today.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” Stretch said miserably, closing his sockets against the embarrassed heat rising in his face. Sure, it had been a long time since he’d had sex that way, but damn, Edge never came before him, always made sure he was satisfied and the first time Edge had really been enjoying penetrative sex, Stretch had gone off like a fucking firecracker.

Soft leather brushed his cheek bone, fingertips grazing, “No need to apologize for that, love, you’re beautiful when you come. And it isn’t as if I’m bereft of other options.”

A quiet, wet sound made him open his sockets in time to see Edge sliding a hand back between his legs, gloved fingers rubbing where they were still joined. His moans were soft, eager, and he moved into his own touch, his pelvis rocking minutely as he rubbed his thumb against his clit.

Stretch’s hands flexed, his sore phalanges clenching around the rope, desperate to join Edge’s, to touch him and watch pleasure flare in his eye lights.

“let me help,” Stretch pleaded.

“No, I don’t think so,” Edge panted, all his collectedness lost, his bones gleaming with sweat. “You want to be forgiven? Then you can watch.”

And he did, until his sockets ached with dryness, unable to look away as Edge’s little movements went jerky. The leather of his glove was soaked with mingled orange and red, his come seeping out to slick it, trailing obscenely down Edge’s femurs.

His fingers moved faster, almost desperately, and Stretch watched as Edge stiffened and came with a cry, shuddering and jerking, his magic sparkling brilliantly in brief, gorgeous flare. Soon enough he sagged down to sprawl heavily across Stretch, all awkward bones grinding against each other. He stirred quickly enough, before his weight was too much, shifting up on his elbows but Stretch didn’t notice.

Instead, he was trembling desperately, stuttering out, “please, uncle, okay? please let me…let me… i need to…i need…please…”

“You can let go,” Edge told him hoarsely and instantly, Stretch’s arms were around him, fumbling over him. Sweat slicked his hands as he tried to touch Edge everywhere, needed to touch him, his fingers scraping against his ribs and spine, grazing between his legs and drawing a hiss from Edge as they slid clumsily against his still-sensitive cunt.

“beautiful, fuck, baby, you were so beautiful, i love you, i love you so much,” Stretch babbled out, quieting as Edge soothed him, stroking him and settling him. He pulled the comforter around them both before their sweat cooled enough for Stretch to feel chilled.

When Stretch was calmer, curled up drowsily against him, Edge took hold of one of his hands carefully, lifting it and frowning at the lightly chafed bones.

“don’t start fretting, edgelord,” Stretch mumbled sleepily. “that’ll be gone in a couple hours and you know it.”

“it was supposed to be a way to keep you from being hurt,” Edge said softly. He pressed a gentle kiss into Stretch’s palm. The heat of his breath was soothing.

“believe me, i’m not complaining,” Stretch said dryly. Tired as he was, he managed to tip his head up enough to look Edge in the face. “if that was hurting me, consider this an open invitation to do it again, anytime.”

The emotions that flitted across Edge’s face went too fast for Stretch to interpret before they disappeared beneath Edge’s normal stoicism. Not much use in pushing the point right now and Stretch snuggled back into the comforter, resting his cheek against Edge’s sternum. Bone against bone wasn’t perfectly comfortable without a thin cushion of clothing between them, but Stretch wasn’t about to let Edge go long enough to put on some pajamas, not now.

Beneath his cheek bone he could feel the delicate pulse of Edge’s soul, unmanifested but it was there, its presence strong and comforting. Even better, he could feel Edge’s breathing evening out and Stretch smiled a little, cuddling closer.

This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined getting Edge to take a nap, but he had to admit, it was better than his plan.

Getting chloroform was a bitch, anyway.

-finis-

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #by any other name

[miraniel]

l85 questions tag game

Tagged by @peppermintfeminist​. Hi mate! You’re the best!

— What was your last…

1. Drink: Alcoholic? You’re kidding right? I recently tried a milliliter of Somerset Apple Brandy and NOPE, never again. Non-alcoholic? Water with lemon. 

2. Phone call: My parents, just before I left for England, where I am now (not over the excitement yet)

3. Text message: “Yes” in response to my grandmother, who asked if I got her text. 

4. Song you listened to: Reflection from Mulan

5. Time you cried: Two days ago, in the middle of a back country road in Somerset, over a goddamn Severus Snape fanfic. I’m still mad that the writer actually managed to make me care about fucking Snape. 

— Have you ever…

6. Dated someone twice: No. Have I dated someone once? Yes, but only by accident. 

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: No.

8. Been cheated on: Look I’m ace as fuck and have never dated really ever. 

9. Lost someone special: Yes, I’ve lost friends in multiple senses. 

10. Been depressed: I don’t think so. 

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: Any alcohol has this taste for me that the best I’ve been able to describe it is “rancid nickles,” it’s bloody awful, and I’ve never been able to stomach more than a sip of the stuff, so no. 

— Fave colours

12. Olive green. 

13. Purple. 

14. Deep cerulean. 

— in the last year have you…

15. Made new friends: Not really. I made a couple of cordial acquaintences in the drama productions I’ve been in, but no one close.

16. Fallen out of love: No, see above about being ace as fuck. Now, my brief obsession with the show Sherlock...

17. Laughed until you cried: Yes. So many times. 

18. Found out someone was talking about you: Yes, in both good ways and bad ways. 

19. Met someone who changed you: So many people. Just one who springs to mind is my Education professor at college. She was amazing. 

20. Found out who your friends are: I am fully aware that I am a terrible long-distance friend. It’s my worst flaw and I wish I was better about this. I think I’ve betrayed more friendships by just letting them slip away than I ever have had people turn on, or abandon, me. 

21. Kissed someone on your facebook friends list: Unless we’re referring to familial pecks on cheeks... no. 

— General

22. How many of your facebook friends do you know irl: Nearly all of them, apart from one random guy that my cousins met online and who has since befriended the entire family. 

23. Do you have any pets: I no longer live at home, but my family still has one of the two cats we had when I was growing up. 

24. Do you want to change your name: I think about it sometimes. I think about it a lot. I’ve just started using a new name with an eye to it becoming my official pen name. I don’t know if I want to start using it as my everyday name. 

25. What did you do for your last birthday: Oh, crap... I can’t remember. I think my mom was there, and my grandparents. We had cake and a tiny family party. I think. All I remember is I was glad I didn’t have a play rehearsal that day. 

26. What time did you wake up today: 6:50 am

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: Sleeping, for once in my life. 

28. What is something you can’t wait for: Finally achieving my lifelong goal: being employed, being published, and being financially stable enough that I can afford a little house, with a dishwasher and laundry, and a cat, and food, and health insurance, and Netflix. It seems... a long way off. Also the next episode of Supergirl?

29. This question is mysteriously missing, so I will pose a question to the universe/the people I’m going to tag: What was the first piece of media (film, book, world, comic, game, character, etc) that you were ever obsessed with?

30. What are you listening to right now: Silence.

31. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Several Tims, but no Toms. Excluding possibly some random middle aged guys back when I was growing up because who remembers that sort of thing

32. Something that’s getting on your nerves: People assuming I’m in my early teens and asking me things like how high school is going. Then I’m like, “Nope, I’m like ten years older than that, graduated college a while ago now,” and they’re like “Oh, you look so young,” and I’m like “I know!!” and then (and this is the bit that’s driving me crazy) they all say “You’ll be so grateful when you’re my age!” Like... I just kind of called you out for patronizing me? And your immediate response is to patronize me again? Also there’s no guarantee that I’ll still look ten years younger than I actually am when I’m 50? Also, I may be grateful or not when I’m your age but it sure isn’t doing me any favors now? Please stop. Just stop. 

33. Most visited website: I may or may not be slightly obsessed with Nonasuch’s fantastic Dogfather Harry Potter AU and I might check their tumblr once or twice a day. 

34. Hair colour: Somewhere between dirty blond and light brown now. It was blond when I was a kid. 

35. Long or short hair: Okay, so I really want to be able to braid my hair elaborately again, but I also love the feel of short hair on the back of my neck.  Right now it’s in an inbetween stage and I can have neither of these things. What is a person to do. 

36. Do you have a crush on someone: I had things I called crushes when I was in high school and hadn’t figured out I’m ace as fuck. I get hardcore friend crushes. 

37. What do you like about yourself: I’m proud of my talents, though I play them down more than I should, and I neglect to practice them more than I should. I like how far I’ve come figuring out my identity and who I am these past six years or so. 

38. Want any piercings: Under no circumstances am I voluntarily going to sit still and let someone poke a needle through me or into me for anything other than a medical necessity. This applies to tattoos as well. I respect people who have them, but hell no for me. 

39. Blood type: SOMEONE knows because I’ve had a blood transfusion, I think, but I don’t have a clue. 

40. Nicknames: I have wanted a nickname my entire life and nothing has ever stuck. 

41. Relationship status: Single asexual inactively seeks person willing to share habitation, bookshelves, Netflix, pet, and nerdy conversation for the rest of their life. 

42. Sign: I don’t do the zodiac thing at all, but I’m an INTJ and a Hufflepuff. 

43. Pronouns: Um, this is a weird place and time to do this, but since you asked, I’ve just changed them to “they/them.” 

44. Fave tv show: Ever? Avatar the Last Airbender. Right now? Supergirl, The Flash, Miraculous Ladybug

45. Tattoos: See above regarding NEEDLES

46. Fave city: Albuquerque. Fight me. 

47: Ever had surgery: When I was a kid I had The Case of Pneumonia From Hell and Fun Times in Hospitals and got chest tubes and part of my lung removed. Also a few minor random stuff. 

48. Piercings: See above regarding needles. The needle phobia is directly related to the Fun Times in Hospitals. 

49. Sport: Literally none. I’ll watch gymnastics and skating every four years, but apart from that the highlight of my interest in sports was that time that JKR was live-writing the Quidditch World Cup on Pottermore. 

50. Vacation: I’m in Oxford right now, somewhere I’ve always dreamed of being! And I’m on my way to Scotland and Wales. 

— More general

52. Eating: Sushi, macaroni and cheese, fruit, chocolate, scones

53. Drinking: tea, tea, tea, milk, orange juice, non-alcoholic lemonade or apple cider, water, tea, tea, tea

54. I’m about to watch: Brooklyn 99 (The UK has it on netflix!!)

55. Waiting for: My betas to come back to me on my novel draft. Then it’s agent shopping!

56. Want: A cat, the ability to focus, the ability to read properly without stupid eye problems, a job, writing time

57. Get married: ... growing up I fantasized about getting married because I wanted my paternal cousins to meet my maternal cousins and I couldn’t think of any way that would likely happen apart from my marriage and I think they would get on like a house on fire.. this still seems like one of the only motivating factors for me ever to get married. 

58. Career: Author and poet and crazy cat lady

— Which is better

59. Hugs or kisses: hugs

60. Lips or eyes: Neither. I don’t actually like making eye contact even though I’ve learned to do it, and why would I stare at people’s mouths?

61. Shorter or taller: For a dance partner? Taller, but not significantly so. 

62. Older or younger: If this is meant to be about romantic partners? Because why would anyone ask this question? Significant age gaps are generally not a good thing either way, except possibly between two consenting adults who understand and work to alleviate the uneven power dynamic a significant age gap typically creates?

63. Nice arms or stomach: The heck?

64. Hookup or relationships: Relationships. 

65. Troublemaker or hesitant: Hesitant and trying to overcome it

— Have you ever

66. Kissed a stranger: NOPE

67. Drank hard liquor: See above regarding the horrors created by my taste buds and any alcohol.

68. Turned someone down: Yes. It was awwwkward, but he was a friend. Normally, when I suspect someone likes me, I run away and never speak to them again. Trying to get over that. 

69. Sex on first date: Uh nnnoooo

70: Broken someone’s heart: I hope not

71. Had your heart broken: By friendships, yeah.

72. Been arrested: Nope

73. Cried when someone died: Not really. 

74. Fallen for a friend: A couple times, but in like, a really aggressively platonic way

— Do you believe in

75. Yourself: Yes.

76. Miracles: Yes.

77. Love at first sight: Yes, because it basically happened to my parents. Theirs is a story of being bookstore managers, an immediate attraction, a mutual failure to understand origami, and a shared love of Star Trek. It would make a perfect rom com but there was literally no drama. My parents are adorable. 

78. Santa Claus: I have always had the ability to choose what I believe in. Santa Claus was one of those things, long after I knew the truth. 

79. Angels: Not really of the stereotypical “feathery wings and flawless skin” type. In the possibility or even likelihood of benevolent forces or beings outside human comprehension that are not a divine creator but may be from or of the divine, yes. This likely has a lot to do with how many times I read Narnia, The Dark is Rising, and A Wrinkle in Time as a kid, now I think about it. 

— Misc

80. Eye colour: Green

81. Best friend’s name: I have a few. One starts with a C. 

82. Favourite movie: The Fellowship of the Ring. Or 101 Dalmations. 

83. Favourite actor: Maggie Smith

84. Favourite cartoon: Avatar the Last Airbender. I didn’t discover it until I was about 18, but I love it to death. 

85. Religion: Ex-roman catholic Episcopalian 

Tagging @nerdiekatie, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @dragon-feathers, and @fantasiavii

#ask me things #replies #tag games #y'all don't have to do it if you don't want to #anyone who wants to do it pretend I tagged you

[siochan-leat]

Thor: Ragnarok Review

Now that my brain is properly working again, I think I’m able to construct my review of the film. On a whole, my spoiler-free review is that this is probably the best film Marvel has done. And they took some risks with it - a different kind of director (cos, let’s face it, Taika Waititi is about as different as they come), different sets designs and concept, and the atmosphere of the film was lighter and definitely more comedic than an action film typically is. Which was said when “The Avengers” came out - ‘we didn’t expect it to be so funny!!’ Well...this time we’re dealing with the end of a planet and the extinction of a people….it’s tough to make THAT hilarious.

The best way I can review this film properly is to talk about the characters themselves instead of me nattering on.

Oh and tagging @lokiperfection and @quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks cos they might be the only ones who read this, LOL

So, be warned here be spoilers ahead…

Thor: Thank you Taika, for finally giving us the Thor film we’ve been waiting for! He was absolutely brilliant is this film - outrageously humorous from the very first scenes, still chucking around Mjolnir like nobody’s business ( that is, until...well he doesn’t have it anymore), ready to fight anyone or thing that messes with him or his friends, and still VERY MUCH the pig headed hothead he’s always been. But...there was something more endearing about this incarnation of Thor. We can tell he’s…changed. Maybe it was all that running around the cosmos trying to find himself that made the difference? It’s hard to tell. But once his hammer is broken, I think he finally realizes that must rely on something else for once - he must find his other strength(s) and find his true power. Odin quite rightly says to him in his Big Moment of Weakness, “Are you The God of Hammers?” No, Thor is the God of THUNDER, so he has no choice but to find that power and tap into it if he and those who join him have ANY chance of defeating Hela. He also realizes WHEN he needs to ask for help comes into play here too (scene with Heimdall and Odin in particular).

He’s also the Imperfect Hero here - flawed, uncertain, clumsy and yeah, things can be badly timed. Just cos you’re “Asgard’s Golden Boy” doesn’t mean you can’t make mistakes.

And I now want to refer to him from now on as “Sparkles.”

The scenes with The Hulk and his brother, Loki I found especially endearing and wonderful, but more about that later.

Loki: As a devoted Loki Fangirl, I was expecting much of this character and THANK THE GODS, Taika and Tom did NOT let us down. We also finally got the Loki we’ve been waiting for since Tom donned the helmet back in 2011. Here, Loki is at his very best - chaotic, snarky,mischievous, deadpan gut-bustingly funny,  the full-tilt diva, but also the insecure, hurt, wounded soul. I remember as many of you will, Tom speaking about Loki and saying, “The opposite of love isn't hate; it’s indifference.” And that is so so very clear in this film it’s just remarkable. I think the very real possibility that Thor is now indifferent to his brother really REALLY bothers Loki and the scene that PERFECTLY CAPTURES THIS is where Loki projects himself into the dungeon room on Sakaar to plead with his brother….and Thor just sits there, tossing rocks at him, with no expression on his face. Loki finally, after getting no reaction, says “ would you say something? SAY SOMETHING!” And Thor’s response is so perfect!!! ‘You did all this bad shit and you’re gonna keep doing more and more of it,  so…?”

Even more so when Loki betrays Thor for the umpteenth time after “Get Help” and what Loki doesn’t see coming is that Thor knew it was gonna happen. So he has a chat with Loki whilst being on floor with the shock collar thingy, cos maybe that’s the only way he will actually LISTEN,  and says to him (i’m paraphrasing here), “we just keep going around and around like this….when will you get it, that in order to grow you must change?? You are (just) the God of Mischief….but (when?) you could be MORE…”

I have more to say about him in “Scenes I Loved”. Cos he was in a LOT of them. Ehehehe

Odin:  So...the AllFather is in exile and he’s got some big explaining to do. I know every family has secrets they’d rather keep tucked away somewhere, and yeah maybe he was trying to protect his loved ones and the whole of Asgard from the Royal Family’s dirty laundry, but WOW. You didn’t think your people deserved to know that The Goddess of Death was gonna come for everyone once i’m dead,  and oh by the way she’s Thor’s sister and my first born and we kinda destroyed whole civilizations together.

I’m sorry…...WHAT?!?!

Back the Family Tree up here!!!

But Odin knows he fucked up. BIG time. And his sons and Asgard’s people are unfortunately gonna pay the price for it. Unless,  his sons come together (haha) & do something about it and end up saving them. Cos they’re Thor and Loki’s people now to save.

Hela: Ooooooh, yesssss. HELA YES. Bless you Cate Blanchett, for doing this role cos NO ONE could’ve done this better. She was magnificent as only Cate could make her - that narrowing of her eyes, THAT STRUT OF MURDEROUS INTENT, that sly snark to her voice and,  i’m sorry, but if her and Loki are not blood related, I’m calling BULLSHIT.You couldn’t ignore the parallels between Hela and Loki if you TRIED, cos there were just SO MANY of them!!! There’s one scene towards the end of the film where Thor is on the throne and Hela is before him explaining something and the camera goes to a wide shot behind Thor and for a moment, in that wide shot, if i didn't know it was Hela standing there, I could’ve SWORN it was LOKI.

Perhaps that’s why Odin was so hard on Loki for so long? Because he had seen and experienced first hand what powerful greed and destructive ambition actually results in??? That’s my guess anyways.

Heimdall: Really, the TRUE saviour of Asgard. It made me a bit uncomfy to think that Heimdall was and is considered an enemy of the Crown, even after Odin’s exile and Loki’s takeover. But Heimdall is this film had a singular purpose and we knew that he could see Hela coming for Asgard so his sole purpose was to save as many Asgardians as he could and stash them up in the mountains (Mines of Moria, anyone? *snickers*) until he could make for the Bifrost to get them off the planet. Idris Elba, as always, was superior.

The Grandmaster: In my humble opinion, Jeff Goldblum’s greatest role and performance since Jurassic Park. He was the Jeff Goldblum-iest Jeff Goldblum EVER.

The Hulk: I thought, like most of us, that Mark Ruffalo was the best thing to ever happen to Bruce Banner/Hulk and i still DO, even more so now because of this movie. Hulk here is a different Hulk; he’s still a hothead and very temper driven, but he’s revered on Sakkar as a Gladiatorial Champion and he really seems to love the attention and all the “winning”. I’m glad he has more lines in this movie and we get to see a bit more of his personality, and not just Banner’s. I really like his man-child way of speaking, it really gives him a very likable “gentle giant” quality, well...gentle when he WANTS to be. When he said “Please?” I think i felt my heart turn to goo.

Valkyrie: UHH YAAAAAS QUEEN!!! I love love love LOVED this character OMGGG. There’s not much to not like about her ( well….maybe the whole “traitor to Asgard” that Thor accuses her of being…?) She gives absolutely ZEROS FUCKS, she drinks like a fish, kicks fucking ass and takes names, also has a Strut of Murderous Intent, and looks FLAWLESS. I think she and the Ravagers would get along VERY WELL. But, once Loki gets into her head and Thor kinda tells her not to run from her problems anymore, I like that she does a bit of an “about-face” and realizes that Asgard…..is still home for her and is in real trouble, no matter how much she tries to deny or forget her past. But she will help and join in on  her terms.

And um, the whole ship jumping scene?!?!?! ASDFGHJKLKL!!!

Korg: Easily my fave new character of the MCU (sorry Groot). Every single scene he was in had me busting a gut laughing and he’s just so….CUTE!!! And, can we also appreciate that the director of this film was able to be an integral character in it too?!? Like….how often does that happen?? Almost never!

And thank you, Taika for making me fall in love with an animate pile of rocks. I haven’t been so smitten since Rockbiter and Rockbiter Jr. in the Neverending Story Films.

Skurge: I really liked Karl Urban in this role, but the character itself was kind blah for me. He agrees to be Hela’s executioner so he can “ have a chance to prove myself”, but every time Hela does something, he has second thoughts. In every scene he has a double take of “should i really be doing this??” It kinda felt after a while like, did he not get she’s the Goddess of Death? What did he think she was gonna do? Kill people with candy floss? It’s like it took him the entire movie to get up enough courage to back out of the deal and go against Hela, which he’s promptly killed for.

Surtur: I didn’t know anything about this character going into the film, so all I can say was that he seemed to be a bit of an egomaniac fire demon at the start of the film (all that monologuing…..yeeesh!) but once he was reborn and grew big and scary, I was more convinced and freaked out. Him shoving his flaming sword into the heart of Asgard and making in go BOOM was very VERY COOL.

Scenes / Things I Loved

- The Tragedy of Loki whole play scene. Great cameos by Liam Hemsworth, Matt Damon and Sam Neill. And Loki turning and saying to Skurge, “ you had ONE. JOB.” LMAO

- Thor and Loki in Midgard. THE BLACK SUIT OF SEX.

- The whole Dr. Strange scene.

- Thor and Loki seeing Odin for the last time (not counting Thor’s visions) in Norway. I think this scene was more...emotional for Loki than Thor cos I don’t think Loki knew how Odin was going to react to him being there. But once Odin turns to him and tells him “...took me quite a while to break free from your spell...Frigga would’ve been proud…” , I think all was forgiven in that moment. And to solidify this, Odin says that he loves “his sons”, and that he’s failed them both. I spent most of this scene focusing on Loki’s face and it was hard to watch Tom’s face as Odin’s spirit  “left”. It was just….heartbreaking.

- Thor in the wheelchair in the tunnel before meeting the Grandmaster. The “Willy Wonka” music made me laugh SO HARD!

- The Grandmaster.

- Thor finding Loki alive and Loki’s reaction to Thor being alive. And oh god that whole “Shhhhhh! SHHH!” thing Tom did??? ASDFGJLAKSDASJHHASFKJAHS

- The dungeon scene between Loki’s projection and Thor

- STAN LEE’S CAMEO. THE BEST EVER.

- Korg. All of Korg, all the frickin TIME.

- Thor finding/unleashing his Thunder & Lightning powers while Hulk is beating him up. The flashes to Odin were an awesome touch

- Thor Shirtless for almost 2 minutes. HHHNNNNGG. Another Very Important Plot Point. And thank youuuuu Taika for circling the camera around and around DAT BOD. O_O

- Pretty much all the stuff with Thor and Hulk in Hulk’s apartment. Especially the sit-down chat on the bed where Hulk gets Haiku poetic.

- Thor asking Heimdall to help him to “See”.

- FENRIR.

- Loki and Valkyrie’s scene. I love that she calls him “Lucky” *snicker snicker*

The elevator scene and “get help”

- Valkyrie and Thor jumping on and off various ships in MID AIR. O_O

- The scene with Thor and Odin in Thor’s Moment of Weakness.

- Thor kicking ass on the Bifrost at his full power. AWW YEAAAAH!!

- Loki’s arrival back in Asgard. And the helmet flip. And him fighting. And….and….ALL OF IT.

- “We’re gonna need a ship with cupholders, cos we’re gonna die,  so DRINKS!!!”

- “Darling...you have no idea what’s possible”

- “It varies from moment to moment.” ( not so much the line but HOW he SAID IT! GUHHH!!!)

- “It's a bold move, brother. Even for me”.

- The final scene between Hela and Surtur. 3D was MADE for that scene alone.

Things I Didn’t Love

- Thor immediately blaming Loki for Odin’s death. I think it was unfair of him to jump to that conclusion. Yes, he was in exile, yes Loki may have put him there, but how was Loki to know that Odin was coming to the end of his life? Maybe Odin didn’t want his sons to know that he was dying so he covered it up much like he did everything else.

- The way Hulk turned back into Banner. I found it very hard to buy Bruce and Natasha’s love story in Ultron, and we have to deal with it yet again in this film. I found it equally hard to swallow that Banner was trapped in Hulk for 2 YEARS and the moment he sees and hears Natasha, that THAT is what changes him back??!?!? I don’t buy it.

- The Loki shock collar scene. I can understand why Thor did it, but i think there must've been a better way to reason with his brother, even if he attempted to betray him yet again. I don’t agree that Thor simply left Loki there to suffer for hours and hours. If you recall every other time Thor was shocked with the collar it DID shut off after a while. We have no real way of knowing how long he was on the floor before he was found by Korg and his crew.

- How mangey Fenrir looked. I know, i know, he’s been dead for a while, i just thought when he was reborn, he’d look a little less dead.

- Some of Hela’s monologuing. And most of Surtur’s.

Things I have theories about. Or the Internet does

- How Loki made it onto the ship that made it out of Asgard. He goes from releasing Surtur on Asgard in Asgard’s basement to being on the ship….but we never see him actually board the ship. My theory is that he was either able to project himself onto the ship once it began to leave and his real form followed soon afterwards OR the Loki we saw in Asgard’s basement WAS the projection and his magic was strong enough to release Surtur from afar.

- Whose ship was that that appeared in the extra end scene? Internet theories seem to think it’s Thanos’ ship, which makes sense since Loki did kinda cheat him out of the Tesseract. But if that’s what Thanos is after and Asgard is no longer…..perhaps Loki was able to take it with him before releasing Surtur?

If you made it ALL THE WAY DOWN HERE.....YAAAAAY YOU GET A COOKIE AND A HUG!!!

#thor ragnarok #review #my opinions #lokiperfection #quoting-shakespeare-to-ducks #marvel

[glare-gryphon]

Horizon Light - Part 4

~2500 Words

Chapter Tags: Strong Language, References to Substance Abuse/Alcoholism

I modeled Obi-Wan’s quarters kind of after what we see Raleigh & Yanesy sharing in their introductory sequence at the Anchorage Shatterdone. Raleigh & Mako have quarters with a different layout in Hong Kong, but I like the apartment-style layout better.

By the time Obi-Wan is released back to his quarters, having been forced through another medical and psychological evaluation following his and Skywalker’s successful drift, he is not altogether surprised to find Quinlan Vos already waiting. The other ranger leans casually against the cool, metal door to Obi-Wan’s quarters, a pile of empty cardboard boxes at his feet and a bottle of something in his hands. Whatever Quinlan has brought in offering is probably alcoholic and definitely prohibited on base, which is the only reason Obi-Wan doesn’t immediately turn him away and lick his wounds in peace. He has a feeling that he’s going to need to get wasted if he’s going to deal with how drastically his life has changed over the last two days.

“Hey there, Kenobi,” Vos greets. “Word on the grapevine is that we’ve got some celebrating to do. Your reign of terror over defenseless cadets has finally been brought to an end!”

"And how much money did you make off the betting pools with the end of my... What was it? 'Reign of terror'?"

Quinlan's smile turns from teasing to smug. "Enough that I can afford a few more bottles of this," he replies, shaking the drink in his hand meaningfully. "Now are you going to let me in before we get caught with prohibited liquor, or should I just head to Windu's office now and save myself the trouble?"

Obi-Wan huffs, but pushes past him to stuff his key into the lock and open the door. When he does, Quin passes him the bottle, freeing up his hands so that he can collect the stack of cardboard boxes on the floor. "Still had these laying around from when they moved me in with Aayla," he explains. "Figured I'd help you pack your shit up, if you want. The brass give you and Skywalker your room assignments yet?"

"No," Obi-Wan replies, shutting the door behind the other man and cutting off the chatter of passersby in the hall. "They're going to move us tomorrow; there is apparently some debate over where we should be moved to. Half the brass think we need space to get to know each other; the other half think we need close supervision lest we kill each other in the process."

Quinlan barks a sharp laugh, weaving his way through the room to settle in the chair at Obi-Wan's desk. His quarters, at the moment, are hardly fit for decent company. Cleanliness tends to get pushed to the wayside when it's a struggle to simply get out of bed in the morning.

There are clothes strewn across the floor, mugs of half-finished tea resting across any available flat surfaces. Qui-Gon's things are still packed in a stack of boxes beside the desk, with the exception of a small potted plant that rests on the desk's surface among a collection of orange prescription bottles, varyingly full. He hasn't worked up the will to go through it all, yet. If anyone else had seen this place, Obi-Wan would be embarrassed. Quinlan Vos does not classify as decent company, however, so he simply makes his way to the cot, dropping onto it while his friend searches out something to drink from.

Vos pulls two empty, questionably clean mugs from the refuse littered about, blowing into them to clear them of dirt before pouring them both a healthy portion of the liquor. "I hope they aren't intending on monitoring you too closely," he says. "You know what they say about jaeger pilots: if they aren't family, they're fucking."

"You and Miss Secura are not related, nor are you engaged in sexual congress," Obi-Wan points out. "If you were, you wouldn't be here sharing your liquor with me."

"Give it time," Quin replies in a salacious purr. Obi-Wan makes to grab for one of the cups, but Quinlan yanks it out of reach at the last moment. "You aren't on any pain meds or anything, are you? For what Skywalker did to your face?"

"You know Che won't let them give me anything anymore, Quin," Obi-Wan huffs, snatching the cup from him and taking a deep drag from it. The alcohol burns as it goes down, making him grimace, but settles fairly well in his stomach. "Substance abuse problem my ass," he mutters, and pointedly ignores Quin's glance at the pill bottles on the desk; at the empty bottles stuffed in a corner. Instead he glances around the room, taking in the destruction he's wrought these past few weeks. It'd been impeccably clean before, to the point of infuriating Qui. Now it’s starting to look like Quin’s quarters. "This place is a wreck. We're going to be here all night." "Good thing I brought plenty of booze, then," Quin replies, leaning forward to top off Obi-Wan’s drink.

They’re both good and plastered by the time they decide to start packing up Obi-Wan’s things. The liquor is potent, doing its job before they’ve managed to down even half the bottle. Quin takes one of the boxes and starts emptying the wardrobe while Obi-Wan collects the dirty clothes off the floor in his own. Both are appropriately marked, and Obi-Wan can’t help but note that the latter is far fuller than the first. He can’t actually remember the last time he took his things to the laundry; it’s a small miracle he managed to last this long without having to resort to reusing outfits. Trash is stuffed in the can, dishes piled in the sink. They will have to deal with those things in the morning, as they don’t have the patience for it now.

There is something almost soothing in the mindless work of cleaning up. Obi-Wan used to enjoy it, before Qui’s death, and finds himself easily slipping back into that feeling as he wipes a rag over the desk and other flat surfaces to clear away the settled dust. The smell of disinfectant and clean is a pleasant change of pace from the must that’d settled over the space.

“What are you gonna do with this stuff?” Vos asks, nudging the boxes of Qui’s things to draw Obi-Wan’s attention to them. “I know you probably don’t want to go through them, but are you taking all this crap with you?”

“It’s not crap,” Obi-Wan mutters, batting Quinlan’s hands away when he makes to open the top container. They’re moved carefully to over by the door, where the rest of the filled boxes have been stacked for easy transport in the morning.

“Now, you see, I knew Qui-Gon Jinn,” Quin presses, trailing behind Obi-Wan as he works. “The man hoarded junk like an old lady hoards cats, so I am almost positive that most of the stuff in those boxes is, actually—”

“Shut up, Quinlan!” Obi-Wan snaps, dropping the last box on the pile with more force than necessary and rounding on the man. “I won’t have you talking about him like that in my own damn quarters!”

Vos raises his hands in a placating gesture, trying to calm Obi-Wan’s ire. Considering the amount they’ve both had to drink, it’s not particularly successful. “I’m just trying to help, man.”

"I do not need your help, Quinlan."

"Yes you do; this isn't healthy, Obi-Wan."

"And you're just the epitome of mental health, are you?" Kenobi sneers. “Getting drunk every night and hooking up with anyone who’ll spread their legs for you?”

"At least I can get more than fucking ibuprofen when my copilot nearly caves my skull in," Vos shoots back. "You're never going to move forward with Skywalker if you're still clinging to the past like this!"

"There is no 'moving forward' with Skywalker! We're conn-pod partners, that's it! One drift hasn't made me care for him. I’m never going to care for him, just as he’s never going to care for me."

Vos’ lips twitch triumphantly, and Obi-Wan knows what’s about to come out of his mouth before it does. "That's not what they saw down in medical, after you got out of the pod."

"They don't know what they saw," Obi-Wan hisses. "Now if you're quite done making an ass of yourself, I would like you to leave."

A wounded expression crosses Quin's face, but it's wiped away almost as quickly as it came. "Whatever, man," Quin mutters, pressing past him and out the door. "Keep up your damn shit-show. See if I care."

The door slams shut behind him, and Obi-Wan’s anger drains as abruptly as it swelled. It leaves him weary—even more so than the extended drift he’d taken with Skywalker earlier had. He shouldn’t have snapped at Quinlan like that, but he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. There is nothing between him and Skywalker, nor will there ever be. What happened in medical was… a fluke. A side effect of spending too much time tied too each other’s mind too soon.

There are always side effects of long drifts. Ghost Drifting is the most common: a period of time after the completion of a drift where the pilot’s minds seem to somehow remain connected. It’s never as intense as a true drift—there is never transference of thought or memory—but there is the occasional tingle of phantom sensation, or an ability to predict your copilot’s decisions and movements before they make them. Drift specialists chalk it up to their brains still operating on the same wavelength once the bond of the drift is severed, slowly returning to their usual thought patterns as they spend time apart. This, however, is only speculation as studies of Ghost Drifting have been wholly inconclusive.

Despite their strangeness, Ghost Drifts are regarded as one of the more innocent side effects of the drift. More dangerous consequences have been recorded, from codependency between pilots to a total loss of identity. Obi-Wan suspects that these are more what he and Skywalker experienced when they were finally separated. There is no other explanation—not for their behavior. Not for the way Skywalker had clung to him while they set through their medical examinations, the line of his body pressed into Obi-Wan’s side as if that point of contact were the only thing keeping him from simply fading away to nothing. Not for the way Obi-Wan had allowed that touch, soothing the man who had beaten him senseless only a day ago when the nurses had to poke and prod at Skywalker’s cracked ribs and—

The mug of Quinlan’s half-finished drink, which Obi-Wan had collected under the intention of returning it to the sink with its brethren, shatters against the wall. It makes a racket, all those little pieces of ceramic falling to patter onto the tile floor, but there is no one to hear. No one to care. The quarters next to his have been empty for weeks, since they brought him Qui-Gon’s things in a neat stack of cardboard boxes and gave him their deepest condolences for the death of his partner. Like that would make him feel better. Like that would patch the psychic wound gouged into the back of his mind as Qui-Gon bled to death in the conn-pod of their jaeger.

Obi-Wan does not care for Anakin Skywalker. One drift can’t change that—can’t plant feeling in his mind. No matter what the medical staff think they saw. They’d been in the drift too long, too soon. That’s all.

Turning from the spattering of alcohol that’s slowly tricking its way down the wall, Obi-Wan chugs the rest of his own portion before dumping the mug in the sink. He can’t deal with any more of this tonight. The rest of the bottle of liquor, which Quinlan had forgotten in his abrupt departure, is tucked safely away among his clothes in one of the boxes. If he’s caught with alcohol by anyone other than Quin or a handful of others, it’ll certainly be taken away and he’ll be back in the medical bay under observation. Now, with Quin pissed at him and no guarantee of reconciliation anytime soon, he’d rather not take any more risks than necessary.

Dropping onto the familiar, lumpy mattress of his cot, Obi-Wan allows the drink to drag him down into unconsciousness.

It feels like he’s only just fallen asleep when he’s startled awake by the sound of someone pounding at his door. Obi-Wan groans, grasping at his head as though the pressure will stop the throbbing in his skull. His mouth tastes like something curled up and died inside it overnight, and his stomach is twisting itself in knots. Of all the things he missed about alcohol during his forced reprieve, hangovers certainly weren’t one of them.

“Kenobi?” A familiar voice calls through the metal of the door, starting into another round of banging as though it will get him to answer faster. “Kenobi are you in there?”

“One moment, Aayla,” he calls out as he attempts to sit up, if only to make her stop her insistent pounding. The world spins around him in an unpleasant sensation as he fumbles for the shirt he must have stripped off overnight. When he’s presentable, the patterned burn scars his circuitry suit left behind hidden safely away beneath fabric, he somehow manages to make it across the room to throw open the door.

Waiting just outside, arms crossed in impatience, is Aayla Secura. Quinlan’s copilot is just a few years younger than him, built strong and sturdy. Today she’s got her turquoise-dyed hair pulled back into two braids and tucked beneath a brown bandana that matches the color of her leather bomber jacket. “You look like shit, Obi-Wan,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

“Good morning to you, too,” he replies, squinting against the fluorescents in hall—too much for his sensitive eyes to handle at the moment. “What brings you to my door at this hour?”

Aayla uncrosses her arms, waving a strip of paper that’s clamped between her fingers. “Got your new room assignment. Quin said he was coming over here to help you pack last night, then came back in a tiff. Figured you’d need some help getting your things to your new place, since I’m doubting Skywalker’s going to come around to offer his assistance.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says with a weak chuckle. He isn’t sure why that thought makes his heart contract painfully in his chest. “No, I’d imagine he isn’t.”

Even with the hindrance of his hangover, it’s easy to finish collecting his things with Aayla’s aid. Before he knows it they’re loading all his boxes onto a dolly that’s waiting in the hall, and Obi-Wan is hit with the starting revelation that he’s leaving these quarters. Sure he’d thought about it before—he’d packed all his things!—but the full extent of what that means doesn’t seem to have registered until now. He’s going to be moving out of these quarters. He’s leaving this chapter of his life behind. He’d going to spend the rest of this war, or the rest of his life, at Anakin Skywalker’s side—whichever comes first.

The only thing he can think as he follows Aayla through the halls of the shatterdome to his new quarters, is that it should have been Qui-Gon.

#The joke is that Quinlan Vos will never get laid #Obikin #Gryph Fic #pacific rim au #this is also up on a03 now #if that's more your deal #i'll keep posting it here too #but I've fixed all the weird lingo fuck-ups over there #so if you'd like to read the past chapters with the correct terminology #you should head over there #also I haven't mentioned it before #but I threw a coffee link up in my header #i'm not ransoming fics for cash or anything #everything still getting posted #but if you ever feel like throwing a dumb bird a couple bucks it would be appreciated

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 116

Chapter Summary - Danielle arrives home with Mac to an empty house, but it is not long before her two pups meet.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Danielle sighed, the day had been long, but Mac rubbing his muzzle against her as she sat in the trailer made her feel better. She checked her phone and smiled. She brought up Tom’s number and pressed call.

‘Hello, Ms Hughes, how are you this evening?’ His voice all but purred at her.

‘Very well,’ Her tone was warm and playful. ‘But I fear I have a confession to make.’

‘I am listening.’

‘I have someone with his head on my lap at the moment.’

‘And we only apart with a fortnight, Darling, why must you hurt me so?’

‘Yes, but in all fairness, he has had my love for the past few years and has returned it longer than you have.’

‘I feel like I should be challenging him to a duel.’ Tom chuckled.

‘He would win.’

‘He cannot hold a gun, or a sword for that matter, he has no thumbs. I think.’

‘Dewclaws are their versions of thumbs.’

‘I read before that people remove them.’

‘Yes, no licensed vet in Ireland or Britain will do it though, they can be struck off for it if it is not needed.’ She explained. ‘How is our little boy?’

‘He is great. Did you get my picture?’

‘I did. Did he cry in the car?’

‘A little. Though I did something bold.’

‘Tell me.’

I may have left him sleep with Poppy at night.’

‘I can’t blame you.’

‘It’s not that bad, is it?’

‘More for Poppy than Bobby.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, he is fully vaccinated as of tomorrow, meaning that he can then be around Mac, but she will have no one, but going down to one before losing all her littermates is not life ending. Your mum will pamper her.’

‘She already is doing that. Do you like the name?’

‘I do actually, Bobby suits him.’ She smiled. In the end, she had given the duty of puppy naming to Tom, seeing how much time and effort he put into his names. She watched as he went Googling multiple sites in hopes of getting the best possible one, looking at the picture of the puppy on his phone over and over as he thought of the names. Seeing what it meant to him, Danielle assigned puppy naming duties to Tom, with the right to veto if needed. Tom acted as though she had bestowed some immense honour on him and took it very seriously.

‘I cannot believe you had everything readied before you left.’ Tom chuckled, recalling how there was nothing left to chance with Danielle’s planning. ‘The training pads were the best investment ever.’

‘I can well imagine. Have you done what I told you to do?’

‘He is good, not there yet though.’

‘They learn, with consistency, he will catch on quick.’

‘He is getting there.’

‘Good, with Big Brother Mac, he will thrive even more. I cannot wait to see them together.’

‘I cannot wait to see you.’ Tom smiled.

‘Do you miss me?’

‘Terribly. Do you miss me?’

‘From time to time.’ Tom growled. ‘I do, so much, but mostly because we are forced apart to be safe and not because of work. It will be worth it when we and our boys are going for walks on the beach.’

‘We won’t be doing this too often.’ Tom agreed, ‘Bar everytime we add a puppy.’

‘And become dog hoarders.’ Danielle laughed.

‘Wait and see, it will be one of those crap tv specials yet.’ Tom joked.

‘I cannot wait to see you again.’

‘Tomorrow cannot come soon enough. How was work?’

‘Good, tiring. Mac loved it on set. There were seagulls, so you know him.’

‘He was only protecting you.’ Tom laughed.

‘And he did a great job, no thanks to me, I went within a few feet of one and he nearly lost his life.’

‘I told him to look out for you, he promised he would.’

‘I love you.’

‘How could you not?’ Tom joked, causing her to laugh. ‘I love you too, my beautiful Elle. I better go here, someone is....yep.’

‘Go, bye. Don’t scold him.’ Danielle called out before the line went dead.

*

‘Now, be nice.’ Danielle warned as she turned the key in the ignition and took it out. ‘Bobby is small and young, so he is scared.’ Mac sat up, seemingly knowing he was home again. She got out of the car and went around to the boot, opening it before undoing his harness. ‘We will have to sort something for him too actually, two hoops I suppose. I guess my car is officially the doggie car now.’ She rambled as Mac relieved himself against Tom’s car.

Collecting her suitcase and her laptop case, Danielle closed up the car and walked up the steps. She made sure to get in first, dropping her belongings in the hallway before letting Mac in. After a few moments, it was obvious there was no one there. Wondering where they could be, Danielle watched as Mac inspected the new smells that infested his domain with keen interest. She put her dirty laundry in the back kitchen then brought her case upstairs, all the time Mac trying to establish what was afoot. As he continued to investigate this new revelation, Danielle got everything else out of the car and looked at the locked gate that protected their home, wondering where Tom and Bobby had gone.

With the car cleared, she tidied everything away and let Mac out into the garden, only for him to continue his thorough assessment there. He looked at her more than once with an appearance that could only ever be accused of being concern. ‘I told you about this. You’ll get to meet him soon, I think.’ Mac gave a grunt in return.

It was another hour before Mac’s ears went up and he ran to the front of the house to see what was going on, telling Danielle that Tom and Bobby were returning. When she heard the key in the door, she walked out to the hallway and brought Mac into the kitchen before closing the door, meeting Tom in the hall. ‘Hi.’

‘What are you doing home early?’ Tom asked, his eyes wide as though shocked.

‘I said I would be back at lunchtime.’ She frowned.

‘No, you said dinner time.’

‘Tom, I sent you a text that clearly says lunchtime.’ She took out her phone and got up the message. ‘Yeah, “Okay, we will be home in time for lunch”.’ She held it up for him to see.

‘I didn’t read it right.’

‘Apparently not.’ She smiled. ‘It doesn’t matter, we are home now. Hello.’ She leant forward and kissed him.

‘But we weren’t here.’ Tom looked at her sheepishly. ‘I wanted us all to be here.’

‘Tom, it’s fine, it’s given Mac a chance to realise there is someone new here, he is very intrigued.’

‘How come you are ignoring him, how can you?’ Tom looked down where Bobby was currently jumping up all over Danielle’s legs.

‘I have to ignore him until he stops and gives me the behaviour I want from him, then I reward his behaviour with attention.’ She explained.

‘But he is being adorable.’

‘I know, but I want him to be adorable and good and the only way to get that is to be like this now, as much as I want to cuddle my little boy.’ Danielle shrugged with a small smile. Tom gave her a small look that made her frown again. ‘What’s up?’

‘I just feel like I messed up.’

‘Tom, please stop, you are being silly.’

‘So you are in no way upset that I was not here when you came home?’ He challenged.

Danielle was about to answer when Bobby, upset at the lack of attention, sat down to consider how to get her to pay him some. By doing that, he unknowingly did as he was wanted to do and Danielle smiled at him. ‘Good boy, hello.’ She knelt down and began to scratch under his ear. ‘You are far more cute that when I last saw you, are you being a good boy?’ The puppy, ecstatic with the attention, began to lick her hand. ‘I have a new friend for you, he is all nosey about meeting you, you are going to have so much fun together.’ she promised. ‘Did he get microchipped?’

‘Yes, and the vet nurse or receptionist or probably both, whatever she was, she said to look into insurance.’

‘Yeah, I need the microchip number to add him to the policy Mac is on, microchipping means a lower premium.’

‘So what is “pet insurance” exactly?’

‘Same as health insurance for us, if they get an issue and the vet needs to look into it, we can get them every sort of procedure done for little or nothing.’ She smiled. ‘Mac has never needed his, but it is something I think they should have regardless.’

‘Yeah, how will we sort that?’

‘Sort what?’

‘Well, you have Mac on it, so it is being charged to you.’

‘Tom, we are not going to start to half the bills.’

‘Why not, surely that is the best thing to do, we both pay them together?’

‘You want to do it that way?’ Tom’s face told her he thought it was the best idea. ‘Okay, sure, we can discuss it later at dinner.’ She looked at Bobby, who was sniffing at the kitchen door with his ears up, on the other side, there were responding sniffs. ‘Ready?’

‘How will we do this?’

‘I will go in and pull Mac back, you carry Bobby in and I will keep hold of Mac as you place him on the floor, we let Bobby make the first move. When he comes over, we wait for ears up and a tail wag from Mac and for Bobby to not look like he is about to pee himself, then I let go of Mac and we supervise introductions.’ She instructed.

‘If Mac does not like him?’

‘He will, he loves other dogs, but if, in the off chance that he goes insane here, I grab him and when I say get Bobby, you get him, not before.’ She ordered. Tom nodded and watched as she slipped into the room, him holding Bobby back as she did, the puppy’s ears perked as he whined at her for leaving them. ‘Hey, we talked about this, remember. Come over here to me and we’ll wait for him to come in, be nice.’ There was a moment of silence. ‘Okay Tom, come in.’

Tom lifted Bobby and walked into the room. When he got in, Mac seemed focused on Tom for a moment, wagging his tail happily at him before realising what was in his arms. Mac strained to get forward, his tail wagging already and his ears up as he sniffed the air in front of him to get as much of Bobby’s scent in as possible. Bobby, for his part, seemed as interested and was wriggling in Tom’s arms to get closer the other dog. Danielle gave the nod and Tom placed Bobby gently on the ground, as soon as he did, the puppy bounded the older dog, who shrank down as though attempting to not look as formidable to the pup. The sniffs only took a few moments before Bobby pawed Mac’s nose and the older dog playfully opened his mouth. Danielle let go of him and he immediately went forward, his two forelimbs on the ground with his behind in the air, urging the puppy to play.

‘Well, that went as expected.’ Danielle smiled, looking at them. ‘I knew they would get on. And you thought they would argue.’ She leant against Tom as she watched the dogs get to know one another. Tom continued to watch them as he put his arm around her, saying nothing.’Is something the matter Tom, you’re not acting like you.’

‘I am just wondering how I did not remember you were coming home this afternoon.’

‘Is that really bothering you that much?’

‘I had everything planned.’

‘Ooh, sounds fun.’ She smiled.

‘I was going to have dinner ready and everything and I feel like I fucked it up.’

‘You did not, please stop. You know I hate seeing you annoyed about something like this, it was a simple mistake.’ She pleaded. ‘Where did you two go for yourselves?’

‘Well, we went for a very short walk, since he is just fully vaccinated and he is less than pleased with his lead and harness.’

‘Mac will have him too occupied with fun to notice it from now on, wait and see. It cannot have been too short a walk, we are home for nearly two hours.’

‘I bumped into someone and we went for coffee.’

‘Ah, that makes more sense.’ Danielle nodded. ‘Anyone interesting?’

‘Lolita.’

‘From Hamlet, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Very nice, how is she?’

‘Good, she is working on a slightly larger scale production soon.’

‘That’s good.’ Danielle gave a small smile and nod, she did not seem overly enthused.

‘Are you alright, you seem somewhat….off?’

‘Tired, worn out.’

‘Much paperwork?’

‘So much bloody paperwork, I did most of it while waiting to get the all-clear to come home, but there was a shit tonne of it.’ She leant into him. ‘I want nothing more than us and a few nights of quiet and maybe a few movies and to tidy it up before sending it.’

‘And plenty of dog walks.’

‘You are speaking my language.’ She moaned as she leant into him more. ‘Damn you smell good.’

‘Do I?’

‘Mmhmm. I saw the pictures by the way, of you and Bobby, you look so cute together.’

‘You’d swear I was caught out with another woman the way some of the photographers acted.’

‘But it is you, who is sexy and incredible looking, with an adorable puppy, have you any idea how that will look online for you?’ She laughed. ‘I can only imagine your fans, they are probably balls of baby talking mush right now. Can’t say I blame them, puppy looks good on you.’

‘You make me sound like Cruella DeVil.’

‘��Cruella DeVil, Cruella DeVil, if she doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will,” except maybe Thomas Sharpe, or the High Rise, actually yeah, maybe the High Rise, less dog eating here hopefully. You play a lot of villains.’

‘Laing is not a villain.’

‘High Rise is interesting, they are all villains in their own way. Laing not as much as others, no rape or needless fighting, but he was never one to nail his colours to the mast. A survivor, an adaptor, but still, willing to ignore the plight of others.’

‘Well, as the Jag campaign stated, we Brits make the best villains.’ He grinned.

‘Ye usually are the villains anyway.’ She retorted.

‘Really, Ireland versus England jokes.’

‘Hey, you invaded us, don’t be getting uppity when we make jokes about it.’ Danielle nudged him slightly. The dogs seemed to get over the formal introductions and were trotting around the room together. ‘Uh-oh.’ Danielle walked forward and scooped up Bobby. ‘Outside Mister.’

‘He wasn’t doing anything.’

‘He was sniffing, that is a boy choosing a peeing spot.’ She placed him on the ground and waited. Bobby got sidetracked by smelling the place, since Mac had scented it since his return home, but within five minutes, he began to pee. ‘Good boy, oh he is the best man.’ Danielle gave him attention as soon as he finished, Bobby adoring every moment of it, trying to lick her face as she bent down to pet him.

‘You cleaned up.’ Tom noted when he looked around. ‘I was going to…’

‘I got it sorted, I did not want Mac trailing it in the house.’ She smiled. ‘Ready little man?’ Bobby trundled over to Tom, his ears flopping comically. ‘I love him so much already.’

‘He is adorable.’ Tom agreed. When they walked in, Mac seemed to realise he had not given Tom a proper hello and ran over to him, wagging his tail excitedly. ‘Well hello, I missed you too. Did you look after our girl when you were away, did you have fun?’ Mac grumbled back at him. ‘We need to have a good jog tomorrow, just you and me.’

Bobby looked on curiously before Danielle sat on the floor, causing the puppy to rush over to her for attention. After Mac felt that he and Tom caught up, Tom looked to Danielle, who was looking at her legs where Bobby had decided to fall asleep. ‘I don’t want to wake him.’

‘You have to get up.’ Tom reminded her.

Mac trotted over before mimicking the puppy and used her as a pillow. ‘Well, now I’m fucked. I am not getting up for the afternoon.’ Danielle laughed.

‘You did that to yourself really.’

‘I am surprisingly okay with it.’

#I Hate You I Love You #chapter 116 #wolfpawn #tom hiddleston #Tom hiddleston fic

[wolfpawn]

Once Bitten, Twice Shy Chapter 6

Previous Chapter 

Chapter Summary -  Paige deals with her manager regarding the situation and Benedict rings Tom for an explanation.

Tag, @wolfsmom1 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog@nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer   @standing-onthe-edge

anyone else who wishes to be added to the tags, just ask :)

“Oscar, I am so sorry. My phone was dead, I had not planned on the brunch.”

Paige started with her manager/publicist. She knew she would have several people to call, going by her messages at least. Oscar would be on damage control, that was paramount, Marks ‘eh, what did I just read?’ could wait.

“Paige, if I’m honest, I am not entirely sure what you are apologising for.” He stated jovially. “I mean, it is brunch with a man that is quite frankly, the male equivalent of you if what Luke is telling me is true, that is hardly something to apologise for.”Oscar dismissed. “Though, that is some manner in which to announce it.”

“There is nothing to announce. Tom asked me to assist him with preparing for his next part, because of Derek, so we had dinner and discussed it and that’s it.”

“So how does dinner become brunch with his mother and sister then? You were spotted going into the restaurant as one group.” Oscar asked.

“I…” there was very little Paige could reply to that without admitting her him she just slept with Tom the night before. “We’re not a couple.”

“Look, Paige, you know I don’t involve myself in your personal life so long as you don’t drag it around in public like dirty laundry, but you are not going to be able to play this down. I know that weasel Derek did a number on things with you so I know you don’t want people talking again but you chose the wrong guy if you want privacy, Hiddleston is big news, he has the fangirls and looking around online, I don’t think you are aware, but for the most part, you are very much being liked. I mean, there are the few that seem heartbroken, I won’t lie to you but for the most part, you are being adored. You are trending on social media. I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw an increase in the sales of your books solely because of this.”

Paige rolled her eyes. Of course, as her publicist and her manager, Oscar would see that side of things. To Paige, she could not see how they would happen, but she rarely bothered to challenge him on that. “Look, don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Well, Luke and I were talking, he worked for me for a while at the beginning of his career, Luke, great guy. Good solid head on his shoulders. When I realised it was him managing Hiddleston, I knew it would be alright. Anyway, we were talking and he said that from their side, this is the best manner to deal with it, casual, being yourselves, simply relaxed.

“Honestly, Oscar, you are getting ahead of yourselves, there is nothing to this. Look, Tom and I both know Ben and Sophie Cumberbatch, we were at their house this week, got talking and he asked if I could help him with his play, nothing more.” The scoff from the older man told her he did not believe a word, so she sighed in defeat. She knew he wasn’t going to listen but it was not particularly important. Tom would continue with his life, she would continue with hers, and at best, they could possibly bump into each other in London some time or most likely, if either of them had the courage to go to Ben and Sophies’s anytime in the future, something she knew she was not feeling particularly confident about herself. While hoping to get Oscar to stop going on about Tom, she realised her phone was telling her of another call trying to get through. Looking at the screen all of a sudden, Oscar’s rambling seemed far more appealing. “Oscar, I’m afraid my Mum is trying to get through to me over and over, I better see if everything is okay.”

“Oh yes, very good. I will call you about the book deal tomorrow.”

“Book deal?” Paige scanned her mind for a moment, trying to recall what interview Oscar could be referring to.

“Yes, the meeting with the publishing company, on Thursday you know about this.”

Paige winced. She did know about it, she had simply forgotten and with only a mere two days to it, she most certainly could do without it. “Yes, sorry. Yes, I just need to talk to Mum now, Oscar, so I will speak to you then. Bye.” She hung up and immediately called her mother back. “Mum?”

“Paige.”

Paige pursed her lips together at her mother’s tone. “Mum, when you ring me three times in the space of about a minute, I think there’s an emergency, not that you want a chat, you had me terrified. I literally all but threw Oscar off the phone.” She scolded, putting on her kettle, knowing she would not have her phone away from her ear for at least twenty minutes. “So, what is it you rang to tell me?”

“Nothing at all, Darling.” Her mother’s voice told her there was something.

“Mum, I know you thirty-three years, whatever it is, just say it.”

“Well, after everything with that absolute scoundrel, I knew you would not rush off to meet someone else, but to hear you are seeing Tom Hiddleston, not from you but from the radio...honestly, Paige.” Her mother seemed genuinely bothered.

Paige sighed. “Mum, I am not seeing Tom, I just was helping him for his new play.”

“And to go for a meal with his mother and sister but not me. I feel very hurt, Paige.”

“Mum…Look, I did not plan to meet his mother and sister today, they just turned up to his house unannounced and his mum badgered us into getting something to eat and it all snowballed from there, you know I don’t keep things from you, or Dad.” Paige explained.

There was a moment of silence, as though her mother was processing what her daughter had revealed to her before she spoke again, her tone far chirpier. “So, what is his mother like, does he speak to her with respect? You know, I always said Derek treated Helen with no respect.”

Paige feared she would roll her eyes back into her skull if today continued as it had done, thus far. “He is an utter gentleman, Mum; to his mother and his sisters, and indeed every woman.” She did not reference Derek or his mother Helen, though it was true, her mother always commented on his lack of respect for his mother. “She is amazing, by the way, Diana. She reminds me a lot of you.”

“Wonderful. So, when are you bringing him to dinner?”

“Mum, please listen, it’s not like that. I was just helping him with his show and the next thing you know, it is blown completely out of proportion.”

“Your father thinks him a little thin, but he is very handsome.”

Paige scoffed. Her father was always blunt, she loved that about him. He was born to a working-class family and even with affording his children good educations and such, he never lost his roots as he worked his way up. “I doubt Dad called him ‘handsome’.”

“I did nothing of the sort.” Her father growled in the background. “It’s your mother thinks him handsome.”

“Put Dad on Mum,” Paige asked, knowing her father would speak through her mother if she did not talk to him directly.

“Paigey, you got back on the horse finally, I see.”

“Dad, not you too.”

“You are too beautiful and good to be single, Paige, you need someone.”

“Dad, life is not about needing someone. I am perfectly happy.”

“No, you’re not. Other people can be alone but not you, you want to have someone otherwise you would never have said yes to Derek.”

Paige said nothing. She had wanted to get married, she did want someone, before. Now she was too scared to try again, once was painful enough. “People change, Dad.”

“Not too much, Sweetheart.”

“Look, I met him at Sophie’s, he’s doing a play where he is being cheated on, he knew what Derek did, he asked me to give him some personal experience to work into his performance, he made me dinner and we discussed it and then today, his mother and sister turned up at his and before we know it, they are dragging us to lunch.”

“Well, I don’t need a rundown of everything, but sounds like you two are getting on well. Has Mark met him yet?”

“No, no one has met him because there is nothing for anyone to be meeting, why is no one believing me on this?” Paige thought of her parents, her father would at least have some chance of listening to her.

“You just admitted to going out with him for brunch, and that he is cooking dinner for you. At least he knows how to cook, that’s one up. We just want you to be happy, Paige. You will have to bring him to dinner on Sunday. We need to see if he really is good enough for you. I heard you say he treats women right, that’s a big step up from that sack of pus.”

“Dad…”

“Now, I mean it. I want to meet him.”

“Dad, put Mum back on.” All of a sudden, her mother did not seem too bad.

“See you soon, Paigey.”

“Bye Dad. Love you.” A moment later, the line was switched to her mother again.

It took twenty-five minutes for her mother to finally come off the phone, but that was only because a friend had called around to talk to her...specifically regarding Paige’s new famous boyfriend. Paige hung up feeling frustrated regarding her parents’ ignoring her on the matter.

She sent Mark a quick message, telling him she would talk to him later, she was just recovering from a call to their mother first.

*

Tom sighed as he threw his car keys in the bowl he kept them in beside the door after returning home. He did not know what to think of the madness that had become his past twenty-four hours.

He never intended to do anything with Paige, just dinner in return for picking her brain to better his role as Robert, to give him some credence. When he heard her confess to Sophie she was sexually frustrated, he thought nothing of it. He had suffered it himself, in fact, he was suffering it last night, hence his eagerness to seek a willing partner. She had spoken so eloquently and passionately. Her intelligence, like her demeanour, was incredibly alluring and he had fallen for her somewhat, he could not help it. When she kissed him back, when she had been so willing, he lost any modicum of control he thought he had. When his sister and mother had come, he asked Paige to play along and she did, better than many women he knew that acted for a living. She took everything his mother threw at her, and goodness knows she threw most everything, and she did not falter. Paige was an incredible woman.

He also thought of how she paid for brunch. She did not like men doing things for her, she could do it for herself. That was incredibly sexy. A woman that controlled a situation. The cheating pig that threw her aside was an idiot of the highest order in Tom’s eyes.

When he heard his phone begin to ring, he was not in much of a mood for whoever it was, seeing Ben’s name, the fact that he had apparently rung two other times and a message from him stating to answer the phone, Tom did so. “Ben.”

“What the Hell have I just heard on the radio?”

Tom, having not had the radio on, did not know what Ben was referencing. “I don’t know? Is this some sort of weird guessing game?”

“Don’t get smart,” Ben warned. “I had the radio on to listen about actual news only to get the entertainment news special that Tom Hiddleston brought his new girlfriend, Paige Winters out to lunch with his mother and sister, that is the news I am referencing. Why, in the name of all you believe in, are you and Paige, of all bloody people, going to lunch with your family?”

“I was speaking with Paige with regards Betrayal. She very kindly was giving me insight so I could portray Robert better and Mum and Sarah showed up and got the wrong end of things.”

“You’re leaving out some of the story,” Ben declared. “I think you forget that I actually know you.”

Tom said nothing for a moment. “So, we may have…” For a simple exhaling of breath, Tom could hear the disapproval in it. “We are both adults, Ben. Nothing bad happened. She’s an incredible woman and she just helped me out with this.”

“Of all the people to break down Paige’s wall, why am I not surprised it’s you? Honestly, I told Sophie before you’d get on well.”

#Once Bitten Twice Shy #chapter 6 #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fic