#SHE CALLED CLAIRE HER MA | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

porcelainseashore · 5 months ago

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Into the Ether (12)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Smut including blood drinking, and some violence ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer @delulusimps ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 12: This Ready Flesh

His vision was blurry, tunneling in and out as he struggled to focus on the pavement in front of him. The street lights flickered, his retina capturing them in a mesmerizing delay, creating luminous streaks and trails across the sky. It had been ages since Leon had gotten into such a state where he couldn’t walk straight anymore, shambling in a zigzag pattern towards his destination. At least he still knew where he wanted to go — to you. It was all he could think about as he staggered into Café Noir, calling out your name while the other patrons delivered wary side glances.

In his inebriated haze, he stumbled through the crowd until he came across a figure he vaguely recognized. Grabbing the person by the collar, he sputtered, “Patrick, right?”

The young man nodded timidly, trying to back away, though Leon clung onto him firmly. “Where is she?”

He could even smell the strong stench of alcohol on his own breath as he spoke. The vessels he had drunken from earlier must have been completely wasted. He should know, since they had already passed out when he got to them. It was probably pure vodka running through their veins at this rate.

“Sh-she already left an hour ago,” Patrick stammered, cowering slightly in fear.

Jesus Christ, what did this boy ever do to you? Leon sighed. He was scaring people unintentionally, looking all crazed with his bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair. He didn’t even need a mirror to confirm that. What a fucking mess.

Right on cue, he saw the ponytailed redhead come into view, and she looked pissed. Great job, Leon, he berated himself. Now he was gonna get his ass kicked. But he deserved it. He deserved all of it.

“I’ll handle it from here,” she told Patrick calmly, before turning back to Leon with a deadly glare.

Dragging him by the arm over to a free table in one of the more private corners of the room, she shoved him onto a chair and ordered, “Stop terrorizing the locals.”

“Hi to you too, Redfield,” he mumbled despondently, slumping over with a hiccup before catching himself with his supporting arm.

Claire stabilized him, shaking her head disapprovingly as she sat in the opposite chair. “You’ve gotta be shittin’ me. On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you right now?”

When he didn’t answer, she scolded, “Not a good look, Kennedy.”

“Yeah? What’s it to you, Claire?” he challenged, though his slurring made the words sound all jumbled together.

“Fuckin’ hell,” she cursed, tapping the side of his cheek rapidly, in a blind effort to get him to come to his senses. Finally, she came to a decision. “Okay, here's the deal. We’ll sit here until you sober up, and then, we’re gonna talk.”

Regardless, that didn’t prevent him from retorting, “Yes ma—”

“Shut it, Leon.”

It was an agonizing wait for the effects of the alcohol to dissipate, and it didn’t help that Claire kept throwing him dirty looks, warning him against trying anything funny. When he could finally string a proper sentence together without making a fool of himself, she spoke up, “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and it’s your private business, but something tells me I need to step in before this blows up in everyone’s faces.”

“What do you mean?” He caught the underlying warning in her words and sensed there was more than what she was letting on.

Sighing, she knocked back a mouthful of beer before continuing. “Let’s… save that for later,” she negotiated. “What’s gotten into you? Hell, I’ve never seen you like this, ever.”

He pinched his lips together, reluctant to come clean with his emotions. But he knew he had no one else he could talk to like this. It was one thing he appreciated about Claire, even though her backhanded comments often grated on his nerves, she would always be straight with him. She just pretended to be begrudging about it.

“She’s gonna leave me,” he muttered.

Claire raised an eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. “So… this is how Leon Scott Kennedy, the great knight in shining armor, wins back his ‘one true love’, huh?” She mimicked quotation marks with her fingers in the air, adding salt to the wound. “By getting trashed and moping around?”

In any other circumstance, he would’ve fought back in an instant, exchanging cutting remarks laced with hidden barbed wire. Now, however, he remained passive and compliant, like a doll. “I did something unforgivable,” he finally admitted.

She snorted, propping her legs up on the table. “Yeah, you’ve done a lot of unforgivable things. We all have,” she emphasized.

Leaning forward, she prodded his chest with her finger accusingly. “You left us without a reason, no goodbye, nothing, and yet, Chris and I are still here, aren’t we?” She paused, taking a moment to recollect herself, and rolled her eyes. “God, that was soppy. Just, er, fuck— rewind and erase that shit, will ya?”

Leon bit his lip, suppressing a laugh. “Sure, whatever you say, Claire.”

“Anyway, your fledgling is beginning to realize and understand that there’s no perfect little world for Kindred like us,” she began.

“Of course, she would run off to you Anarchs of all people,” Leon huffed, clicking his tongue in disdain. “She’s been collecting all sorts of injuries from the gym.”

She sat up straight, folding her arms across her chest in pride. “Thanks to Chris’ training.”

He groaned, burying his head in his hand.

“You have it bad for her—”

“I don’t—” he protested, though she interrupted him in return.

“She talks about you, you know?” At this, he fell silent and she added, “Not in a bad way.”

“What does she say?” he blurted out almost too quickly.

“You’ll have to ask her that yourself,” she replied coyly. “But I don’t think she’s over you yet.”

His heart swelled, though he tried to rein it in to prevent false hope from building up. After all, false hope was worse than having nothing to hope for.

“Just do me a favor, will ya?” she requested. “Don’t try to control her; it never works. Trust me, I know my kind when I see one.”

It was Leon’s turn to scoff, “You wish.” He knew you well. No matter how much of a rebel you were, you were a Toreador through and through.

“Now that I got your attention, we should move on to the serious topic I guess.” She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “There’s two things, which do you wanna hear first? The bad news or the bad news?”

“Claire…” he warned, his patience growing thin.

She placed her feet back down on the ground, unzipping her jacket to pull out a bunch of photographs from its inner pocket. Handing it over to him, she said, “I hate it whenever you’re right.”

“Get used to it,” he quipped back, shuffling through the pictures he assumed she had acquired from a bunch of surveillance cameras in the area. Then, he came across one that made him stop dead in his tracks.

Lucas. He was talking with someone, a tall figure with their back to the camera, obscured by a long cloak.

“A Sabbat member,” she clarified, pointing at Lucas’ image. “Turns out the suitor has been meeting with him regularly.”

“Shit,” he hissed. “You know this is a literal death sentence for the entire Anarch sect in Raccoon City, right? If Wesker finds out…” his voice trailed off as he witnessed Claire’s eyes watering up and her hands trembling. She knew the implications and she was scared.

“There’s something else though,” she stated, pushing forward despite her uneasiness.

Fishing out a separate photo from the stack, she held it before Leon. It was a zoomed-in version of the previous photograph. Tracing the outline of another shadowy figure in the background, she mentioned, “You see this here? There’s a third party involved, but we couldn’t make out who they were.”

Tightening his jaw, he promised, “I’ll keep this under wraps for now, but we need a plan, and we need it fast.” And then, he suddenly remembered. “What’s the other bad news?”

This seemed to make her even more unnerved, but she steadied herself and said, “The suitor has started taking an interest in your childe.”

His eyes gleamed lethally, already imagining the multitude of ways he would slice the guy into ribbons. “Who is this suitor?” he seethed, saliva foaming at his fanged teeth as his voice quivered in blistering rage.

She was mute, her eyes darted away from his, and her whole body was shaking. Something was very wrong.

“Claire!” He grasped her hands, both pleading and demanding, “I need to know!”

“The Baron,” she whispered, barely audible above the constant drone of background chatter.

His eyes widened. Like the Camarilla had their Prince, the Anarchs had their Baron. He’d just never expected such a big player to be involved. But then again, why wouldn’t he? Who would be as foolish and powerful enough to risk it all?

“Heisenberg.” The name flew out of his mouth like an omen.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Come on, you know the drill,” Chris instructed, clapping his hands together to get you to move. “Four sets of jump rope, three minutes each, and for your one-minute breaks in between, push-ups.”

“And don’t forget to use your vitae!” he yelled over once more.

That was just the warm-up. You groaned, stretching out your limbs as you pushed yourself up from the floor to grab the skipping rope disgruntledly.

“Hey, winners never quit and quitters never win,” he advised before setting the timed alarms on his watch.

It took every ounce of effort not to roll your eyes at his clichéd motivational quote. At least you could see the progress you were making relatively quickly. Your feet went through the motions, your muscle memory intact as you began with a basic bounce, working your way into side straddles, hip twists and then alternating single leg jumps. You were light and nimble in your steps, just like you had to be when you got into your fight stance. It was like Mr. Miyagi’s teaching technique with “wax on, wax off.”

A beep sounded. You tossed the rope to the side and dropped into a plank position, channeling your energy through your flattened palms as you performed controlled, repetitive push-ups. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, dampening the dusty ground. Your hands and fingernails were caked with dirt.

Another beep, and you sprung up, huffing as you took the rope and continued with high knee jumps. Your heart was pounding against its cage, and you felt like you wanted to die from exhaustion, but you pushed on. At some point, you broke through an invisible wall, and your body accepted the strain, no longer fighting against it. It was then where you had the headspace to think.

The past days you had free were spent mostly with the Anarchs, so much so that you felt more aligned with them than the Camarilla. You wondered if they secretly knew and were spying on you all this while, ready to dole out your punishment when it was time to face the consequences. For some odd reason, you had a hunch that someone had been watching you recently, but every time you tried to suss out the culprit, they had vanished from sight.

Despite favoring Anarch company, the insight you’d gained into their practices made you realize that they still had the same bullshit hierarchies and politics like the Camarilla, just a little flatter and more equal on the surface. It wasn’t perfect, but it seemed like the lesser of two evils to you.

Beep. Guess it was back to push-ups. Your sweat had begun to form a puddle beneath you and it stung your eyes. Halfway there, you told yourself. Not much longer to go. You’d talked to Chris and Claire about Leon, asking them how he was like when he still hung out with them, during the time he was somewhat a part of the sect. They’d told you many stories of his bravery and courage, putting others first before himself, but also how entangled he was in the mysterious deals he had with Ada and the rest of the Camarilla. It seemed as if he had no way out of them.

“Why?” you’d asked.

“If this is the world he’s been exposed to, how would he know any different until someone or something challenges it?” Claire had proposed.

“His sire, Ada, is a…” Chris paused to consider his words before settling on “transactional woman.” He shrugged. “She probably taught him deals like that are inevitable.”

The same advice as she had tried to impart to you. If someone who was deemed as your superior repeated these teachings again and again, at some point, they could become the truth.

“We’re not excusing Leon for what he’s done,” Claire was quick to correct him. “Just trying to explain it in context.”

Beep. “Speed up!” Chris shouted, and you knew that he wanted you to train your Celerity. Faster than a blink, you took up the rope and completed the routine as swift as lightning. The rest of the sets went by in a blur as you thought about one person only — Leon.

The blue of his eyes, the color of the sea, changing into gold. It reminded you of the Mediterranean, back during one of your travels. The light of the sun glittering on the water’s surface, shifting into the sand dunes of the desert. You felt his presence then; faint, sorrowful and alone, just as he felt yours. A ghostly hand reached out, and you lost your balance, tripping on the rope and landing flat on your face.

“Better luck next time, kid,” Chris grunted, helping you up by your arm, as you wiped away the blood from the graze on your knee.

Leon. You had a sudden urge to speak with him after behaving like strangers since your falling out. As much as you told yourself it was to reconcile and meet Rebecca as a united front, you’d be lying if you insisted there wasn’t something more. Want and longing, like an empty glass discarded in the sink. You’ll talk with him tonight, you determined. However, fate had other plans for you first.

You were shadowboxing in the gym’s ring while Chris barked out directions from the sidelines. At some point, you noticed the expression on his face darken and his body stiffen. He started making his way over to you with an instinctive sense of protectiveness.

An imposing silhouette loomed over you and you stopped abruptly, spinning around to face a tall, robust man with long, unkempt graying hair. He wore a wide-brimmed fedora hat and a beige trench coat over his attire. Round wire-framed glasses covered his eyes but did nothing to hide the bold smile across his face. He scratched at his rugged beard before taking a long drag from his fat cigar.

“Well, well, sugar. How nice of you to visit,” he remarked, puffing out a waft of smoke as he released the cigar from his mouth, planting it between his thumb and index finger.

“Baron,” Chris greeted. He was standing beside you now, tersely grasping your shoulder, suggesting caution.

In his other hand, the man held a metallic cane, rigid and bladed at the sides, its handle adorned with a carved horse figure. The cane clinked every time it touched the ground as he walked towards you, seemingly heavier than it looked. He didn’t lean or rely on it like he had an injury, merely tapping it lightly with each step forward. When you focused closer on the mechanical contraptions, you could tell that it concealed a secondary weapon of sorts.

“Oh, no need for formalities.” He waved his hand dismissively. “We’re all comrades here.”

With a courteous bow, he tipped his hat at you, acknowledging your presence. “Heisenberg,” he proffered, stubbing out the cigar with his boot as he extended his gloved hand to you.

Despite the unsettling atmosphere, you took his hand and shook it firmly like you always do. Might as well fake it until you make it. He raised his eyebrows, grinning at you like a maniac, nodding in appreciation at your dauntlessness.

“So, sugar, how do you like what you see so far?” He raised his hands, rotating in a slow, deliberate circle, as he gestured to the surroundings and the Kindred who’d quietened down since his arrival.

“It’s nice,” you answered flatly, keeping your responses vague and to a minimum until you could better ascertain what he wanted from you.

“I always knew you’d belong to us.” Though with the way he said ‘us’, it sounded more like ‘me’. You caught a glimpse of recognition in Chris’ eye and your suspicions about the man in front of you were confirmed with his next sentence.

“Too bad that Toreador dickhead had to ruin my plans,” he sneered. Clamping his hand on your shoulder dramatically, he continued, “This has been a real party and all, but why don’t you come back to our base? Make yourself at home?”

Heisenberg was the suitor. The one who wanted to use you for his own gain and power. He made your skin crawl.

“Baron—” you saw Chris attempt to plead your case only to be cut off by him.

“Dammit, Chris, I swear to god!” he bellowed, slamming his cane so violently on the ground that you were afraid it would break. Then, in a complete switch, he became almost dainty, whispering with a light flourish, “For the last time… it’s Heisenberg.”

The man was unhinged. You didn’t know who was worse: Wesker or Heisenberg. But you needed to get the fuck out of there.

“Maybe another time,” you proposed, backing away, though that only caused his grip on you to tighten. “I really should get going.”

“Why? What’s the hurry?” he questioned in an odd sing-song before mockingly commenting, “Will your sire be worried?”

“Heisenberg.” The unmistakable voice of the man in question resonated throughout the room, penetrating the dense silence. You heaved a sigh of relief, never having been happier to hear it.

The Baron finally released you, but not without mumbling in your ear, “This isn’t over yet.”

“Oh, Leon!” he greeted in a sickeningly sweet tone. “We were just talking about you! Always the thorn in my side, huh?” He laughed at his own joke, but no one else joined in.

It didn't take long for Leon to catch up to where you were standing, positioning himself between you and Heisenberg. His steely countenance peered down at you briefly before he looked back at the Baron. From behind, you saw Claire slowly walking over to join her brother.

“You heard the lady,” Leon stated. “She wishes to leave.”

At this, there was a fleeting tick in Heisenberg’s cheek, his smile faltering as his lips twitched ever so slightly, betraying his obvious irritation at Leon’s words. Suddenly, there was a loud swish and an electric crack in the air, as the cane he was carrying turned into a whip, which he lashed across the ground. It landed mere centimeters away from Leon’s face, but he didn’t even flinch, staring Heisenberg down with a cold glare.

“Think you’re real tough, don’t you, boy?” Heisenberg spat.

However, Leon remained as calm and elegant as ever. You wondered how many times he’d practiced for this very moment. Motioning to you, he mentioned, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Heisenberg, but my childe here still remains part of the Camarilla.” Turning back to face the Baron, he delivered his final line like an arrow hitting its mark, “And if it comes to it, we will protect our own.”

For a split second, Heisenberg was stumped, but masked it with a ridiculing chuckle. “Is that a threat?” Without waiting for Leon to answer, he offered his hand to you. “Last chance, sugar.”

You ignored it, making your decision to take Leon’s instead, interlacing your fingers with his as you squeezed his palm. He squeezed back and smiled weakly.

“Your funeral,” Heisenberg huffed, disappointment and wounded pride clearly marking his face.

Together, you exited the gym hand-in-hand, narrowly escaping Heisenberg’s wrath unscathed, while numerous pairs of eyes watched you from the sides.

━━━━━━━━━━━

After the chivalrous display Leon had put on in your previous encounter with the Baron, you didn’t expect such a severe scolding from him the minute you stepped into his apartment.

“Wanna tell me what the hell that was back there?” he berated. “You’re being too reckless hanging out so openly with the Anarchs!”

A mixture of hurt and confusion flashed across your face as you shot back, “Yeah? Maybe you should take a good look at yourself in the mirror, Leon, considering that you used to be one of them!”

“Who told you that?” he snapped, backing you into a corner of the room. “Was it Chris—? No, Claire?”

You shoved him off roughly, shouting, “You have no right to judge! What have you been doing this whole time, huh? Fuck all!”

He looked away from you in embarrassment before turning back with a blazing fire in his eyes, his mouth writhing with manic fury. “I’ve been watching you, making sure you were safe, and you think I’ve done nothing?!”

You let out a harsh, hollow laugh in his face. “So, it was you? Stalking me like a fucking creep!”

He ground his teeth, jaw clenching so hard that you could see his muscles straining under the effort. “I don’t want to be ordered by the Prince to destroy you.”

“What did you say?!” you blurted out in bewilderment, grabbing his collar and slamming him into a nearby wall. Visible cracks emerged behind him along the plaster, spreading like spiderwebs. He whimpered in pain, but you continued pressing him in. “Are you threatening me?” you asked, your voice laced with grief and betrayal.

“No, never— I would never do that to you.” It came out like a cracked whisper. “If you step out of line, he will ask me to. But I would much rather be destroyed in your place,” he admitted.

So, was that why he kept trying to ‘control’ you? You were overcome with a sudden onslaught of emotions, and you didn’t know what to trust anymore.

“Liar!” you screamed, an insurmountable rage surging through your blood as you hurled him against a glass coffee table. It smashed into smithereens, and he struggled to get up as the shards nicked his hands and body. Blood spilled onto the floor like a murder scene.

You bolted over, still overcome with frenzied anger, as you pinned him to the ground, pummeling his face while yelling, “I hate you! I fucking hate your guts! What you did to me, what you did to Sherry! You fucking monster! I wish you were d—”

You paused, realizing what you were about to utter and knowing that deep down that you didn’t mean anything you had just said. But the damage was already done. A pang of guilt seeped into your chest and it convulsed as you choked out uneven sobs. Your hands were trembling and covered in scarlet red, and your breath hitched as you peered at Leon’s bloodied and bruised face. He’d been cut up real bad, his nose was broken and his cheeks were puffed up like a balloon. However, he didn’t fight back, accepting every punch and insult you threw at him, like he deserved it.

“Do it,” he croaked, blood dribbling down the sides of his mouth. It almost seemed as if he wanted you to put him out of his misery.

“No, no, no, I—” You shook your head furiously, staring at your reddened palms and started crying.

Your head fell forwards onto his chest, weeping into his stark white shirt, now ruined with blood and tears. A hand came to rest on your back, rubbing it reassuringly in circles, while the other carded through your hair. Even though he was the one suffering, he still took upon himself to comfort you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” you repeated like a prayer, but he hushed you gently.

It was then that you gave in. You’d seen who he was laid bare entirely before you. A monster with his skeletons exposed, and yet, you loved him. You loved him so much your heart would burst.

Holding him close, you moved him away from the broken glass and onto the rug — a new replacement for the one you had bled out on. You touched his face delicately with your fingertips; it was wet and sticky. Why wasn’t he mending himself? You wanted to kiss away his wounds and the pain. He stayed still, eyeing you curiously, waiting to see what you would do. A small gasp fell from his lips as you took your fingers into your mouth, tasting him whole. It was divine, just as you remembered, like figs and honey, and you had the insatiable desire for more.

“I want you, Leon,” you breathed. “Every part of you.”

At this, he drew in, taking your lips with his own urgently. You kissed back, matching it with a similar level of desperation, like both of you were famished. Parting your lips, you allowed his tongue to slip in to caress yours, swirling against it tantalizingly, as blood and saliva dripped from his mouth into yours. You lapped it up ardently, as though you didn’t want to waste a single drop.

The nuances of his taste became clearer. A hint of leather, oak and spice, and at times, subtle notes of vanilla and whiskey, making you feel as if you were a sommelier. Perhaps these were the flavors he had enjoyed when living. Fire coursed through your veins as you straddled him, pressing your scorching body against his. He groaned at the contact, bucking his hips into yours feverishly.

Both of you continued in the same rhythm, moaning each time his erection rubbed against your pelvis. Giddy and heady from the high, you clawed at his shirt, clumsily tearing through the fabric and sending its buttons flying across the room. He responded in kind, ripping open the clothes you’d been wearing, unable to wait any longer.

His heated gaze dragged along your naked body, admiring it in reverence, as if you were a goddess that he worshiped the very ground you stood on. Planting wet, open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your breast, he murmured, “I need you, angel.” His hot breath fanning against your skin, causing you to shudder in delight. “Please, let me taste you.”

“Anything you want,” you rasped, tangling your hands in his hair. “I’m all yours.”

A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, so unlike him that you wondered if you had awakened the sleeping Beast with your words. He took his time, cupping your breasts in his hands as his tongue flicked over one nipple and then the other. Latching onto it with his mouth, he suckled it, increasing the pressure as you twitched in response. You surrendered yourself entirely to him, allowing him to do as he pleased with your body.

He held your gaze as you watched his teeth sink in, puncturing the soft flesh of your breast. The sharp, prickly sting turned into that euphoric thrill you’d subconsciously craved for ever since the first time he’d tasted you. He drank from you a little before leaving the site, grazing your skin with his searing lips they traveled downwards. The first mark was left open and bleeding, just like the rest of the marks he would make. It was his way of showing the world that he had claimed you. You would let him devour you if you could.

His mouth paused at the side of your ribs and he made his second mark, the sensitivity of the spot causing your body to jerk suddenly, but he grasped the fat of your hips, holding you down as you whined. Blood flowed from the wound as if you’d been pierced in the side by a lance, and yet you begged, “More, please, more…”

The final mark he made on you in this round came when he reached your pussy, aching and sore for his touch. He licked your clit eagerly, sealing his lips around it as his fingers brushed against your folds, teasing the entrance before slipping in easily. Moans spewed out from your mouth as he continued sucking hard on your clit and curling his fingers against your spongy walls. At some point, he replaced them with his tongue, dipping and thrusting hungrily into your slit. His fingers glistened with your arousal all the way up to his knuckles, and you brought them into your mouth, soaking in the intoxicating aroma of sweat, lust and love. He hummed, taking the opportunity to bite into your mound, filling himself up with more of your essence as you threw your head back and gasped his name.

Coming up for breath, he peered at you beneath him. The carmine traces coating his lips like red-stained roses, and the scent and taste of your blood lingered in his very soul. He’d seen three separate memories of you with every mark, each more personal than the last, but no less beautiful. You looked truly holy like this, with your blissed out face and blown out eyes, your lips flushed and swollen. A moist sheen covered your body and your breasts quivered from your ragged breathing. He loved how he could do this to you. If he could, he would crown you as his sweet Mary, Isis, Ishtar, or any other form the saint and deity came in, bathing you in swathes of Marian blue and gold, and laying jewels at your feet. As the sanguine fluid trickled down your cunt like a virgin’s first time, he realized that for once, you were his, and solely his.

His wounds healed up in the process, good as new again, but you reached out, teary-eyed, cradling his face in your hands as you pressed your foreheads together. You never wanted to hurt him, and he never wanted to hurt you either. However, the pain still remained, like heavy stones crushing against your chest. He had already forgiven you, kissing you tenderly and stroking your cheek until you pulled away abruptly.

“Fuck me,” you sighed, like a thin wisp of smoke drifting into his waiting mouth. “Fuck me right here on the floor.”

The same floor where your life had drained away into the ether, the same floor where he had made that fateful decision to Embrace you, and the same floor where both of you had envisioned this very moment before it even happened. You needed him to fuck you rough and fast, just so you could forget and engrave this memory in your heart simultaneously.

He heard it in your voice and understood, obliging as he peeled off the rest of his clothes, pushing you forward onto the ground, so that your front lay flat against its laminated surface. You felt him guide the tip of his cock against your pussy, smearing precum along your folds before burying himself to the hilt. He didn’t hesitate or hold back, pounding into you vigorously from behind without giving you the chance to adjust to his size. You mewled in agonizing pleasure as he grasped your ass, spreading it apart so he could penetrate deeper. Your skin rubbed raw against the hard floor, bones bruising against wood as you scratched scars into its layers.

With every sharp thrust your body jolted forwards, his balls slapping against your skin as he gritted out, “Fuck, angel, you just take it so well.”

“How much have you wanted me like this?” you asked impulsively, your voice strained as you rutted back into him in sync with his unrelenting pace, feeling the head of his cock hitting your cervix.

His dick throbbed at your question. A hand came up and pushed your head down, squishing your face into the floor. “God, I— think about bending you over and making you scream—” he panted. His tone turned feral and inhuman like you’d never heard before as he slammed his hips against your ass to punctuate each word, “Every. Fucking. Night.”

Screams tore from your throat until your voice became hoarse, and scalding tears gathered at your waterline before splashing onto the ground. Yet, something savage and animalistic, akin to what he had shown earlier, emerged from the depths of your chest. “Leon, please,” you keened. “Fuck me harder.”

Wrapping his arm around your neck, he leaned forward, placing his full body on top of you so that his chest was pressed flush against your back. Rocking his hips into yours, he fucked you so deep that you felt him in your ribcage. Instinctively, you plunged your fangs into his arm, breaking skin, as he hissed a string of curses before doing the same, clamping down on your neck. You drank from each other, consuming and mixing vitae as he continued pistoning into your cunt. Veins protruded from your neck and your eyes turned bloodshot, rolling back into your head. The excruciating euphoria you’d experienced from your Embrace returned, flooding your senses, and the visions began.

You saw the human life he’d led: a first and last date at the drive-in cinema where he’d fumbled with a cute girl, the all-nighters he’d pulled cramming for exams, his glasses sliding down the slope of his nose as he nodded off to sleep. Then came glimpses of his life and unlife with Ada: how they’d fallen in and out of love, the way he’d been brought to his highest highs and reduced to his lowest lows. You felt for him in those moments, wanting nothing more than for his happiness to shine through, even at the expense of your own.

The images blended together like a watercolor painting, and you smelled the sand and sea. Two figures skinny-dipping, copulating by the waters, and again in the middle of a sandstorm. Your bodies melded into one and you were drawn back into your sweet release, both of you crying each other’s name on your lips. His hips stuttered, stuffing spurts of his cum into your cunt, the excess leaking between your thighs.

You stayed like this for an eternity before he pulled out, turning you around to face him as you lay side by side. He nuzzled your neck, kissing you affectionately. Blood caked your faces and streamed down your bodies.

“Messy drinker,” he chided softly, though his eyes were loving and warm. He licked all around your mouth, cleaning up the vermilion stains.

“I learned from the best,” you retorted, smirking as you caressed his jawline.

He scoffed, kissing your temple as he nestled you into his arms — a perfect fit. “You know I’m never letting you go after this?”

“Didn’t plan on leaving anyway,” you murmured into his chest, feeling his smile widen against your cheek.

I love you. He didn’t need to hear your confession to know that you meant every single word.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #vampire au #vampire the masquerade #vtm #crossover #fic: into the ether #porcelainscribbles

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elinoracia · 2 years ago

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🐍 My Hogwarts legacy ocs 🐍

Meet Pearl Lannister and Clara Weasley!

About Pearl :

Pearl's name was chosen by her mother because of her eyes. Her mother always calls her "my little pearl" or "ma petite perle".

Pearl is my character in the Hogwarts Legacy video game, so she can use ancient magic. She's the new 5th year.

Before coming to Hogwarts in 5th year, she was in the academy of magic of Beauxbatons. She had to leave because Pearl's big brother became a dark mage and killed their father, who was trying to help him, with the killing curse. Her mother took Pearl to London where nobody could find the both of them. They wanted to start a new life.

Pearl is fluent in English and French!

Her mother is not a witch but she married a wizzard who was an Auror. She is aware about Pearl's magic.

Her Patronus is a Unicorn. (Rare patronus because she is also special herself = ancient magic user)

She is a Slytherin.

She fell in love with Sebastian after their first duel in the Defense against the Dark Arts class.

Sebastian was too blinded by his quest to save Anne to truly realize what he was feeling for Pearl. He fell for her at the beggining of 6th year.

Her favorite color is Pink!

About Clara :

Clara is Garreth's twin sister! They are very close.

She is a Gryffindor.

She met Ominis during their first year at Hogwarts. She developped a silly little crush on him but she never really acted on it until 5th year.

She is a chaser in the Gryffindor quidditch team.

She can be a real dare-devil when it comes to her sport. Ominis often accompanies her to the hospital wing after she injures herself.

Ominis was only considering her as a friend until they started spending more time together during 5th year and he saw who she truly was. She fell first but he fell harder ;)

Clara is allergic to pollen, her eyes water a lot during Herbology class and she can't see much. She asked Ominis to help her about that and that's where it all started.

A Weasley and a Gaunt, quite the pair right?

Her Patronus is a golden Eagle.

She wants to become a professional quidditch player after finishing her studies.

Her favorite colors are Yellow and Red.

Pearl and Clara became best friends during their 6th year. Pearl has even a nickname for Clara. She calls her "Claire" because when Pearl first came during 5th year, her french accent was really apparent and she was often mistaking Clara's name with the name "Claire".

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meowmeow-motherfucker · 6 months ago

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Covenant- Chapter 11

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

Pairing: Loki x OFC Claire Fisher

Word count: 14k (prepare drinks and snackies as always)

Chapter warnings: honeymooning, smut, fluff, flirting, unintended voyeurism, author's irresponsible use of cliffhangers, angst, hurt with no comfort

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtiggerv2 @icytrickster17 @mysteriouslyfriedjellyfish @lokislilkitten @justjoanne242 @amlocked @ddmariegirl @mags-04-blog @sharris8 @meepycheep @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @the-fantasy-loving-angel @jaidenhawke @smolvenger @ladymischief11

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Thanks for coming along on this journey with me!

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51197938/chapters/129363727

Ragna was delighted to stay on as the princess’ personal servant. She liked to think the new princess and she had grown close over the past several weeks, at least as close as a servant could hope to be to their betters.

She walked toward the newlyweds chambers, shoulder to shoulder with the prince’s personal servant, Astrid. Astrid had served the prince since boyhood, and had served the queen before him. Astrid enjoyed one of the highest staff positions within the palace, below only the personal servants of the king, queen, and crown prince. Now, Ragna ranked just below her, and she couldn’t believe her luck. She’d expected to go back to her regular duties now that the princess was wed, but the Midgardian had taken her by surprise by keeping her and the rest of her assigned staff and moving them up the ranks with her.

During yesterday’s proceedings, Ragna had prepared for the princess’ arrival in the princes chambers under Astrid’s direction, and had set up ‘the game plan’ as the princess called it- her lewd outfit meant to seduce the prince. Ragna hoped it had achieved the intended effect.

The posted guards outside the prince and princess’ chambers opened the double doors as the two women approached. Ragna tended to the fire as Astrid entered the bed chamber, stoking it back to a roaring blaze.

~~~~

Loki and Claire were woken abruptly when Astrid came to retrieve them a short time after they’d fallen asleep. It was unclear how long the newlyweds had slept, but it had not been long enough for either of them.

“Gods, Astrid, why?” Loki complained, burying his face between Claire's shoulder blades when Astrid opened the curtains and set the room ablaze with early morning light.

“Good morning, Your Majesties! Tis time for breakfast! Come, come!” The elder woman cheered.

“Oh god, she's a morning person,” Claire groaned, shielding her eyes in the crook of his arm. “Loki, do something.”

“I'll yell at her later...” Loki mumbled tiredly. His voice was groggy and rough from sleep, which was just rude and absolutely did not make Claire’s lady parts perk up with interest. God, how many times did we fuck last night and I’m still horny?

“You'll do no such thing, my lord,” Astrid laughed. “Now come along, the entire palace is waiting! We must get you bathed and dressed!”

“Faen…” Loki grumbled. “Very well. Would you like the first bath, darling?” he asked, his breath tickling her neck and making her squirm.

“We can share one if you want. Save water and whatnot.” Claire replied, giving him a mischievous look when she opened her eyes.

“Indeed. Conservation is of the utmost importance. Astrid, we’ll bathe together.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Astrid disappeared into the bathroom and the newlyweds wove their limbs together. Claire was trying to tame Loki’s wild curly hair as he teased the tender flesh between her thighs. Astrid had just started the water when Ragna stepped into the room.

“Good morning, Your Majesties,” she curtsied. “The queen has arrived.”

“Norns,” Loki grumbled, dropping his hand from Claire’s core, where he’d just begun to tease her sensitive bud. “Already?”

“She wishes to help the princess get dressed.”

“Well, um…” How exactly did one tell the queen to get lost? Claire’s budding hopes of riding Loki in the bath might as well be moved to the ‘to-be-done-later’ list. She looked up at her new husband and shrugged. “I got nothing.”

“Please let the queen know we are not yet ready,” Loki answered for Claire. “Perhaps she could have some tea while we bathe?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Ragna curtsied again before leaving the room as quietly as she’d entered.

“So are you going first or am I?” Claire asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Loki scoffed, resting his head in his hand as he reclined regally onto his pillow. His fingers plucked at her pebbled nipple delicately, teasing the nub with the pad of his thumb as he turned toward her. “I was already set on enjoying you again, and my mother’s arrival will not sway me. Unless of course...you object?” he challenged, looking down at her with a grin. Claire returned the grin as Astrid returned to usher them into the bath. “We will not require assistance, Astrid,” Loki announced before the older woman could speak. “Please see to my mother.”

“Of course, Your Majesties.” Astrid curtsied and left to help Ragna, leaving Claire and Loki alone once again.

“Shall we?” Loki asked. He climbed out of bed after her, hands caressing along the silken expanse of her curves as she rose onto her tiptoes and stretched. He pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck, arms winding around her middle as she leaned back. “Are you well?”

“Fantastic. C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.” Claire linked their hands, gifting him a delectable view of her backside as she led him toward the bathroom. Loki closed the door behind them, pulling her back and lifting her in his arms. Claire’s legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed her back against the door, drawing him in for a heated kiss. Claire whimpered into his mouth as the heated column of flesh between his legs pressed against her slick entrance. She canted her hips in search of friction, fingers digging into his scalp as she angled herself to rub against him. Loki’s breath was punched from his lungs as his cock slipped between her folds, warm and wet and perfect. Claire’s hands moved to his shoulders as he reached between them, enjoying the choked, desperate sound she made as he smacked her sensitive clit with the head of his cock.

Claire’s train of thought derailed as Loki pushed inside, words failing as he pinned her against the door. Her thighs trembled as he draped her legs over his forearms, nails digging into his shoulders as he bottomed out. Loki closed the gap between them to claim her lips, grinding against her to make her whine. He flexed his hips, withdrawing from her tight heat.

Every nerve in Claire’s body sizzled as he sank deep inside her, the ridges and veins of his cock stroking her velvet walls. Claire whined, the hard muscles of his body cradling her as she writhed against him.

“Gods, you are- hng- delightful,” Loki grunted, jaw clenching tight as her movements sent a spark of pleasure up his spine. “So- responsive.” he growled, torturing them both with slow pumps of his hips.

“Faster- fuck- please…” Claire pleaded, her desperate words trailing off into a high moan.

“Careful darling or we’ll be caught,” Loki teased, ramping up his rhythm. “We don’t want that, do we?” he asked, punctuating his question with a fast stroke. Claire cried out, clinging to him like a koala as she buried her face in his shoulder. Every stroke caressed deep inside her, setting her blood ablaze as she watched him tunnel in and out of her dripping cunt.

“Loki!” Claire barely recognized her voice as her body clenched, early ripples of orgasm taking root.

“I shall never tire of hearing you beg for me,” Loki said breathlessly. He trailed his large hand from her hip to her clit, groaning as she clenched around him when he began stroking the sensitive nub. “Come, little wife,” he pleaded in her ear, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck. “Come.”

Claire’s body spasmed under his touch, back bowing as pleasure overrode everything else. Loki held her gaze through it all, keeping her upright with steady hands as she rocked her hips against his. He adored it all already; the curl of her long lashes as her eyes slipped closed, the sting of her nails in his back, the fluttering of her velvet walls as she shuddered around him. Loki chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple as her iron grip went lax. Claire nuzzled against him, wrapping her arms around his torso and squeezing him with her thick thighs.

“Shall we to the bath?” he asked, hefting her in his arms. Claire gasped as the movement caused his cock to move inside her, nipping at Loki’s neck as a fresh wave of pleasure ran up her spine. Loki took the stone steps slowly as he walked into the bath, easing down onto the stone bench. He took special care with her legs, massaging her thighs as he relaxed against the high wall of the bath. Claire slumped against him, dotting weak kisses along his shoulder. Loki rubbed her arms, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watched her. “Are you back with me?”

“Gimme- more.” Claire murmured. She shifted in his lap, planting her feet on the bench beneath her. She traced her palms up his long arms to his neck, pressing her chest against his as she cupped his face and leaned in to kiss him. His hard cock stirred inside her, Loki’s breath puffing against her lips as she began to ride him. He groaned deep in his throat, his head falling back as his fingertips dug into her thighs. “It’s your turn.” Claire rode him hard, raising up until the very tip of his shaft remained inside her before sinking back down to the root. Loki squirmed beneath her, breathless pants escaping him as she watched him come undone.

Loki began to buck, teeth gritted as he fucked her with abandon. His fingertips dug into her skin, sure to leave fresh marks. Claire could only hang on for the ride, arms around his neck and face buried against his chest. Her nipples grazed against his flesh with every thrust of his hips, sending her even closer to the edge.

“Du er...helt- perfekt,” Loki grunted. “Faen!” his body jerked, his hips slamming into hers as he tumbled over the edge. He sucked in a lungful of damp air, his heart racing as water splashed onto the tile outside the tub noisily. Claire captured his lips, swiveling her hips and making him gasp. Loki rested his forehead against hers, trailing his fingers over her clit and making her shiver.

“We should probably get cleaned up,” Claire chuckled. “But we are definitely doing that again.”

“Hmm- yes,” Loki agreed, hissing as she lifted herself off of him. Loki pulled her beneath him, protecting her head with his arm atop the tile. He traced his fingers through her folds, swallowing her gasp as he kissed her. “I do regret I’m not able to watch my spend drip out of you.”

“You are obsessed,” Claire giggled. “How are you obsessed already?”

“it is a delectable sight,” Loki sighed, slipping two fingers inside her to feel the mess they’d created together. “One I shall endeavor to see as often as possible.”

~~~~

“Good morning darlings!” Frigga said cheerfully when they finally joined her in the sitting room. She looked radiant as always as she got to her feet, impeccably dressed in a lush blue gown with her hair coiffed and perfect. Claire felt severely under dressed in the plush robe Loki had put around her shoulders. Feeling a little cold out of the warm water, she sought warmth against Loki’s solid form, wilting when his arm curled around her waist. “Come, let’s get you dressed and ready! The feast and your guests await you.”

“Didn’t we just have a feast last night?” Claire asked.

“Must you be so cheerful, Mother?” Loki complained from beside her.

“Of course! It is a beautiful day, my son is wed and I now have a daughter. Now come along; everyone is eager to see you open your gifts!” Frigga said cheerfully.

“Wait, what?” Claire rubbed her tired eyes with the back of her hand. Between the bath and the orgasms, she just wanted to go back to sleep.

“It’s time to open your gifts, sweeting,” Frigga said patiently, carding her fingers through Claire’s wet hair. “Remember?”

“Can we tell them I’m sick?” Claire asked hopefully as Frigga followed her and Loki into the bedroom. The motherly affection felt really nice and it was definitely not making her feel feelings. “Or really, really hungover?”

“You didn’t drink anything last night,” Loki replied from his side of the room. Somehow he was now awake and functional, the jerk. Claire turned to glare at him as he disappeared behind the dressing partition thing with Astrid, and she was distracted by the marks she’d left on his flesh. She couldn’t remember during which round she’d put them there. “But even if you had, we still must make an appearance.”

“Riiiiiight, what was I thinking? Thor is basically a frat boy; of course this place would be like one big frat party.”

“Kindly refrain from mentioning my brother in my bed chamber, dearest.” Loki groused from behind the screen.

“Eat me.” Claire muttered as she opened her armoire. Loki gave no response, but she did hear him drop something. Frigga contained a polite laugh behind her hand as Loki muttered about having already done that.

Kill me.

“Shall I help you choose something to wear?” Frigga asked eagerly, smoothly steering away from the discussion of Claire and Loki’s budding sex life. It was obvious she was excited to have a girl in the family, and Claire, having lost her mother at an early age, was equally excited to have a mother again.

“Yes please. There are so many choices, I wouldn’t know where to start.” Claire said gratefully as Ragna opened the armoire for them. Frigga smiled, joining Claire to peruse her massive wardrobe. Together they began thumbing through the offerings in the armoire. Claire felt paralyzed with indecision- this would be her first appearance as an actual-factual princess, and she needed to look just right. Which dress would send the best message? This one? That one? Frigga gave her a polite smile, obviously wishing she would pick something. Claire lingered on one dress: a floor-length gown made from silk and tulle with barely-there coverings for her arms. It was a beautiful purple-to-white ombre, with a sizable diamond brooch on the belt. “What about this one?”

“It will do nicely,” Frigga smiled, taking the dress from her. She gestured for Claire to step behind the dressing curtain, following after her along with Ragna. “Tomorrow, your servants will help you dress and fix your hair. I wanted to help this morning and officially welcome you into our family.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you ready yet?” Loki complained from beyond the screen, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Perfection takes time, dearest,” Frigga replied calmly, winking at Claire before a warm green glow washed over her and Claire found herself fully dressed and ready with every hair in place. “All set.”

~~~~

They’d been feasting and drinking for hours. Their guests were getting rowdy waiting for them to open gifts, and the newlyweds were getting bored. Well fed and comfortable in their plush seats at the head of the great hall, Claire could feel herself growing more tired by the second. Movement over by the pile of gifts they had yet to open caught her attention.

“Loki? Why is that box moving?” Claire asked, leaning over into her new husband’s space. Loki glanced over toward the gifts, smiling in amusement as he spied the ornate box holding the gift he’d purchased for her shaking.

“It would seem your gift is rather impatient,” Loki quipped, smiling when Claire looked at him in disbelief. “Perhaps you should open my gifts first.”

“May I?” Claire asked eagerly, waiting for Ragna to hand her the box. The green and gold wrapping paper had a slight shimmer, and a delightful texture similar to velvet, with small circles in the fabric that were darker and lighter weight like lace. Claire thought it odd, but it made sense when she lifted the lid off the box, coming face to face with an adorable black and white kitten. “Oh my god,” she giggled in disbelief. The small kitten bore typical tuxedo coloring, the white of its tiny chest already absurdly fluffy. It’s rounded dark face held vivid blue eyes and was topped with pert ears already bearing small tufts of black fur. “Hi cutie.” Claire ran the back of her finger down the kittens chest, cooing at the softness. The kitten watched her pet down to its white belly, head swiveling back and forth excitedly as she tickled the patch of white on its belly.

“She is a skogkatt, or Norwegian Forest Cat as Midgardians call them. It is tradition for men to give their new wives a kitten in honor of Freyja,” Loki explained, gesturing politely toward one of the women watching them open their gifts. “It is meant to bring good fortune to our new household.”

“I love her,” Claire gushed, picking up the kitten to snuggle her to her chest. “Look at her little white socks!” she clutched the kitten with adoration, the kitten purring loudly as she nuzzled against Claire’s face. “She’s adorable, thank you.” she glanced over at Loki as the kitten settled against her neck.

“What shall you call her?” Loki asked indulgently. A cloud of kitten fur obscured the lower half of Claire’s face, but it pleased him to no end that she cherished his gift.

“Mochi,” Claire declared. “It’s a popular dessert on Earth.” she snickered at Loki’s confused face. Mochi chirped as Claire stroked her little head, sniffing along Claire’s wrist and up her arm.

“I have one other gift for you.” Loki gestured for another box to be brought forth. Tucking Mochi into her side, Claire opened the ornate wooden box to reveal the pearl handled knives she’d admired on their first outing to the marketplace. A gasp escaped her as she fingered the delicate swirls of the metalwork.

“You didn’t,” she beamed. “Loki, these are beautiful!” she gave one a quick flip in her hand, admiring the perfect balance of the blade.

“They are beautifully crafted. I remembered how much you admired them.”

“Thank you so much.” Mochi reached out a tiny paw to inspect the knife, and Claire allowed her to sniff the handle before tucking it back inside the box. Not to be deterred, Mochi reached up to paw at Claire’s face.

“You’re quite welcome.” Loki seemed rather proud of himself as he watched Claire dot Mochi’s tiny forehead with kisses.

“I hope you like what I got you.” Claire grinned, watching as her gifts to Loki were brought up. Loki grinned as he spied a box matching the one he’d given her. Claire had also gifted him a set of knives, plated in gold and inlaid with glistening emeralds. They were beautifully balanced, and he was eager to test them out. Tucking the knives back inside their velvet lined box, he set his sights upon the second box.

Nestled inside was a series of seven hardcover books. Loki slipped the first book from its slot to inspect it. The front cover bore artwork of a boy on a broom, hand outstretched to capture a golden orb. In the background stood the turrets of a castle opposite a bank of trees and a unicorn.

“Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone,” he murmured. The synopsis on the back sounded a bit...juvenile, if he was honest, but he found himself wanting to read it all the same. “What is this?”

“That is the Harry Potter series, from Earth,” Claire replied, smooshing Mochi’s little fluffy cheeks as she spoke. “It’s one of my favorites, and I hope you’ll like it too.”

“It looks promising,” Loki replied. “I’ll start reading it right away.”

Astrid set Claire’s gifts to Loki aside as Ragna took the knives from Claire. She offered to take Mochi as well, but Claire refused to let the small kitten go. Mochi had taken up space in the cradle of Claire’s arms, her little head pressed against Claire as she purred. Her tiny paws were kneading Claire’s flesh, mini claws pricking gently at her skin as her white whiskers twitched.

Loki watched the scene with affection, pleased that Claire adored the kitten he’d chosen. Her fingers stroked the kittens soft fur, eyes full of love as she watched the kitten stretch.

“Shall I open the other gifts darling? You seem quite content as you are.”

“Please?” Claire glanced up, smiling when Mochi nuzzled at her hand, tiny pink tongue darting out to lick her finger. “I don’t think she’ll let me put her down.” she giggled.

“Of course.” Loki gestured to Astrid to begin bringing him gifts to open.

~~~~

An hour later, the pile of gifts around them had grown significantly. Aside from their gifts to each other, they had been gifted: several skeins of yarn (hand-woven by the Asgardian equivalent of nuns, and very rare in color, according to Frigga), an ancient Nordic sword from the British museum, and a multitude of treasures from other countries. Claire had never seen such fancy jewels up close, and suddenly she had her own small collection of priceless bracelets, necklaces, earrings, and even tiaras. The llama they received from Thor had been trotted in and swiftly back out when it shat on the floor and attempted to take food from a shiek’s plate.

Anja, Steve and Bucky gifted them a guide to healthy relationships and a cast iron skillet set. Bruce and Darcy gave them an assortment of date night kits and a scratch-off travel map of Earth. Tony, to Pepper’s utter mortification, had thrown in an assortment of sex toys (including a set of dice and handcuffs) with her tasteful and expensive collection of wine, candles, and massage oils.

As things began to wind down and the gifts were put aside to be cataloged, Claire handed Mochi off to Loki. The kitten promptly took to pawing at her new father’s nose, which he allowed with a grimace.

They would be leaving for their honeymoon in just a short while, which meant all of their guests were leaving. There were several she wished to speak to one last time, but at the moment there was only one person she wanted to see.

“Phil!” familiar arms closed around her as she barreled into him, his comforting scent filling her nose as she buried her face in his shoulder.

“How are you?” Phil asked. Claire was feeling uncharacteristically emotional at the moment. Her eyes began to burn as the reality sunk in- everyone was leaving her behind.

“The crown has no comment.” Claire opted for snark instead of vulnerability. Phil pulled back from their hug to look at her with concern.

“Was it bad?”

“Phil!”

“I just want to know you’re okay,” Phil held up his hands in surrender. “Please don’t ever tell me details.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Claire glanced back toward the high table. Mochi had given up on fighting Loki and curled her tiny body under his chin. Loki was saying something unintelligible to her as his long fingers smoothed her fur. It was adorable. “So when do you go back home?”

“Well, I don’t have to go right away. The queen invited me to stay until you get back.”

“I’ll be gone for an entire month,” Claire scoffed. “Since when do you take that kind of time off?”

“Since my only family married a blood-thirsty space prince,” Phil muttered. “I wanted to at least be close by, in case you need me.”

“Phil…” Claire pulled him into another hug to hide the tears threatening in her eyes. Married life was turning her soft already. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” Claire laughed. “You should go home and get some work done. You can come back any time.”

“Oh god.”

“What?”

“Nothing, it just occurred to me you could be pregnant the next time I see you.”

“I won’t be.” Claire shook her head.

“You don’t know that-”

“Yes, I do. Be cool about it please; we’re keeping it on the DL.”

“Is that...wise?”

“Please,” Claire scoffed. “We have literal ages. Now go home, you nerd. I’ll see you when I get back, right?”

“Of course,” Phil agreed. “I love you, or whatever.” he added teasingly. When Claire had first started living with him, it had taken her months to open up, and longer still to tell him she loved him.

“Oh my god, shut up,” Claire laughed. “I love you, or whatever.”

“Alright, go on, shoo. Go be a princess and say goodbye to your other guests.” Phil ushered her to the swarm of people milling about.

“Bye Uncle Phil,” Claire smiled. “Anja!” she waved her new friend down, waving over her shoulder at Phil as she vanished into the crowd.

“Your Highness,” Anja curtsied perfectly. “Congratulations on your lovely start. You have quite a collection already.”

“Oh, yes, everything is so nice! I think the cat is the most surprising, although the ancient sword is very cool.”

“Can you imagine stabbing someone with a sword that old? Wouldn’t the blade just...disintegrate?” Anja pondered.

“Probably,” Claire snickered. The two women shared a laugh over the thought. “So why the cast iron?” Claire asked. “Not that I don’t appreciate it but...why?”

“You never know when you’ll need to set someone straight.” Anja said cryptically, offering a small smile.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing! But you know, if he starts acting up,” Anja shrugged. “Worked for my first husband.”

“You hit him?”

“Just once.”

“Wait- which one is your first husband? I know you said you got a two-fer but...one of them had to go first, right? How do you keep them straight?” Claire gasped. “Did you crochet them matching ‘Thing 1’ and ‘Thing 2’ sweaters?!”

“No,” Anja laughed. “But if I did, they would be ‘Thing 2’ and ‘Thing 3’.”

“Did you kill your first husband with a cast iron skillet?” Claire asked suspiciously.

“Wrong again!” Anja sighed wistfully. “It was rather romantic actually. We were at war, any day could have been our last…” she sighed again. “Sometimes people do absolutely batshit insane things for love,” she glanced up at Loki and Mochi, who’d by now wrapped the entirety of her little body around his neck and was watching with rapt attention as Loki gently wound her long tail around his finger. “But you knew that, didn’t you? Congrats again.” Anja grinned, winking at Claire as she left to rejoin her husbands.

Once they had made the rounds, Claire and Loki (and Mochi) were ushered to a more private room to sign the official treaty. Two copies were created- one to travel to Earth, and one to be locked in the vaults of Asgard.

“No darling, not on the parchment, please,” Loki said gently as he plucked Mochi from the table. Mochi complained of course, but it wouldn’t do for official documents to be besmirched with tiny paw prints. “After you.” Loki gestured for Claire to sign first, passing Mochi to her after she had signed both documents. Loki signed both parchments with a flourish, and they were quickly ushered outside to a waiting carriage, where Frigga and Thor waited to wish them farewell. Loki set Mochi just inside, creating a barrier with his seidr to keep her contained.

Hugs were exchanged and tears were shed (by Frigga), and then they were off. As they traversed the streets, crowds of people waved them off. Claire was still getting used to that, but she did open the window and wave back.

“So! What should we do to pass the time?” she asked as she settled back into her seat. The carriage interior was plush, and large enough they could each stretch out on their respective bench seats. Mochi had already claimed a spot by the far window, her fluffy body curled into a tiny ball as she dozed.

Four days later

The newlyweds were packed together beneath the blankets like sardines, taking up only a fraction of the large bed. Limbs wound together as they breathed in sync, both exhausted from their travels but desperate to keep contact. The ink on their marriage contract had barely dried before they had departed the palace, leaving the city behind to make their way to a remote mountaintop cottage where they would spend their honeymoon.

Before they could get there, however, they had to traverse the realm, stopping at family estate after family estate to be hosted by various wealthy families along the way. Many of the families had been in attendance at the wedding itself, and had only arrived home shortly before the newlyweds did.

Four days they had traveled north, and four homes they had stayed in. Though they were far less opulent than the palace, the homes were stately and elegant, and the families spared no expense in hosting the prince and princess royal.

Since their chamber doors closed behind them on their first night as a married couple, Claire and Loki could barely keep their hands off each other. Now that they were allowed to act on their desires, all their fierce arguing translated rather effortlessly into molten passion that signaled the beginning of something truly wonderful.

~~~~

Loki woke, already hard and aching, when Claire began to press kisses across the span of his shoulders. He groaned at the feel of her breasts pressing against his back, the tantalizing tease of her fingers as she pulled him closer bringing back the memory of her hands in other places.

“Loki...” she pleaded against his skin, her feather soft kisses lingering on his shoulder blade. “Want you.” One of her hands found his cock, fingers wrapping around the heated column of flesh and making him shudder in her grasp.

“Oh gods,” he panted, rolling his hips and hissing as she worked him slowly. “If we had more time...”

“We can sleep in the carriage.” Claire murmured, moving his dark curls aside to plaster slow, tantalizing kisses along his neck.

“We are guests...” Loki protested. “We shouldn't.” It was a weak argument, one that he’d made and lost at their previous stops in their journey.

“Okay,” Claire gave his shoulder another kiss, her hand trailing up his stomach and across his chest before she pulled away. Loki felt her roll over and settle back into the lush bedding, sighing with satisfaction as she got comfortable in her new position. Loki's dick throbbed angrily. Already his skin missed the feel of her hands, the heat of her kisses. His mind made up, he followed her, pressing against her back from head to toe. Claire groaned sleepily as his hands began to explore her body, fingers finding nipples as he pressed his groin against the curve of her ass. He repeated her actions, laving heated kisses across her shoulder and up her neck, groaning against her skin when she rolled her hips back into him. “So tired,” she complained, voice muffled by her pillow. “But god damn I want you to fuck me. Please.” She keened when his hand trailed down to her hip, kneading the flesh and coaxing her to press back against him more. She opened her legs, resting one atop his so he could more easily access her core.

“You will need to be quiet,” he murmured, dotting the heated flesh of her neck with kisses as he rubbed his cock against her folds. “Can you do that?” She was so wet he slid inside easily, and he smiled at the breathless whimper that escaped her. “Poor little wife, you were desperate, weren’t you?” Loki chuckled as he pressed as deep as he could. Already he could feel the tightening in his belly. This woman would be the end of him.

“I told you,” His new wife slurred, her walls clenching around him as his fingers toyed with her nipple. “Ah! Please...”

“Hush, my darling. We wouldn't want our hosts to know what we're up to, now would we?” He asked, rolling his hips into her slowly. His free hand circled her hips, pressing against her belly where his cock bulged. He exhaled against her skin, feeling his cock move inside her as she moved her hips impatiently.

“Loki, move,” she pleaded. Loki’s chuckle gave way to a groan when he obeyed, stroking her inner walls as he rolled his hips. A gush of arousal pooled between them, Loki’s thick cock squelching as he moved his hips with purpose. “I don’t think I can be quiet-” her words melted into a sob of pleasure as his cock stroked her g-spot. Loki adjusted the angle of the arm beneath her, long fingers covering her mouth. Claire grabbed at his arm with both hands, clutching him like a lifeline as each slow and steady thrust sent her higher and higher.

“Yes,” Loki gasped as her fingernails dug into his forearm. The walls of her plush heat were clenching around him, her body coiling tight like a spring as he pushed her toward the edge. “That's it,” he praised. “Mark me. I am yours, as you are mine.” He saw her eyes roll back as her body convulsed around him, and the choked noise that escaped from behind the hand he had over her mouth scorched him. He followed her over the edge, taking the flesh of her shoulder between his teeth to keep silent. She reached behind him to run her fingers through his hair, and he moved his arm to embrace her, leaving a line of kisses along her neck. “Are you alright?”

“Mm-hmm,” Claire nodded, her eyes beginning to droop with sleep. “I could fall asleep right here.” Claire groaned softly as she shifted beneath him. Loki huffed in amusement, smoothing her hair and kissing the soft skin it had covered.

“Is that so? With my cock still inside your cunt?” he smiled against her slick skin.

“I like it.”

“Really. I had no idea.” Loki snickered.

“Shhhhhh. Sleeping.” Claire pulled his arm tighter around her, wiggling deeper into his embrace and making him grunt. He nuzzled into the space between her shoulders, his lips leaving lazy kisses against the heated skin as she twined their fingers together. Sated and content, sleep took no time in reclaiming them both.

~~~~

Claire was beyond relieved when they finally arrived at the cottage at the end of their fifth day of travel. For all their advancements, Asgard had clearly never heard of high-speed rail, and she had quite a few words for the idiots who either A) hadn’t thought of it or B) had thought of it and decided nahh, we don’t need that.

But all her bitterness evaporated when Loki helped her out of the carriage and she got her first unobstructed view of the place.

“This is a remote mountaintop cottage?” she glanced to Loki, then back at the cottage. ‘Small fortress’ seemed more appropriate. There was a moat, for fucks sake. “I swear to Christ if there are alligators in there, I will get back in that carriage and leave.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be frightened of alligators.” Loki scoffed.

“I have seen those things eat people and I do not want to fuck with them; are there alligators, yes or no?” Claire squealed as Loki hefted her into his arms in a bridal carry.

“Yes,” he replied. “But take comfort in knowing they’ll eat me before they eat you.”

“Somehow I don’t feel better. Mochi!” the cat chirped as she chased a mouse across the drawbridge. Loki carried her across easily, letting her cling to him as they walked across.

“There, see? No alligators.” Claire narrowed her eyes at her new husband as he set her on her feet.

“Are there any alligators at all?”

“None whatsoever,” Loki admitted shamelessly. “It was impossible to resist teasing you.”

“You ass,” Claire shoved at him playfully. “That was mean.”

“God of mischief,” Loki shrugged. “Shall I give you a tour?” he asked suggestively.

“That depends, are there alligators on the tour?” Claire shrieked with laughter when Loki tugged her close and pulled her in for a kiss, nibbling at her bottom lip.

“Only me, I’m afraid. There are a number of guards, and Astrid and Ragna of course, but only I am allowed to bite you.”

“You’re still an ass.” Claire laughed as he wove their fingers together.

“But I’m yours.” Loki winked, leading her through the front door. Commotion could be heard at the end of the long hallway, and they followed the hall until it opened into a large common room, dominated by a large fireplace. Ragna stood at the fireplace, trying to start a fire in the hearth.

Long tables flanked the fireplace, with large double doors leading off beside the fireplace. To the right, a wall of tall windows flooded the room with natural light. Grey flagstones sat just beyond the double doors, a lovely patio area with benches and large flower pots. Off toward the left, Claire could just make out the shimmer of clear water.

“There’s a pool?!” Claire screeched excitedly, fingers soaking up the warmth from the outdoors as she pressed against the glass.

“Of course?” Loki chuckled. “There is also a library upstairs.” He gestured toward the stairs to their right. He led her upstairs to the landing, showing her the various rooms that branched off. There were two bedrooms with luxurious en suites, as well as a sitting room.

The library was magnificent. Hidden behind double doors, the bookshelves took up the entirety of the walls from floor to ceiling, with plush reading couches and a chandelier to give flickering candle light. A sliding ladder caught Claire’s eye, and her giddiness bubbled over as she climbed in to inspect the top shelves.

“Hey look, I’m taller than you.” she laughed, turning on the ladder to taunt her husband. Loki snorted, stepping closer to press flush against her.

“Do not get used to it,” he murmured, hands resting on the ladder by her hips as she brushed his hair out of his face. “You are quite short.”

“I am considered tall, thank you.”

“Yet you’re still shorter than me,” Loki grinned. “Ladder notwithstanding.” He grabbed her by waist when she jumped on him, winding her arms around his neck. The small of her back pressed against the couch when he kissed her soundly.

That was the start of Claire’s list of places she wanted to fuck Loki. The balcony outside the library quickly joined the list when they went out to enjoy the view.

~~~~

The next day

Claire woke in increments, her brain registering sensations before anything else. Comforting warmth. Sheets soft as could be. A strong arm holding her against hard muscles. She stretched out in Loki's grasp, her stiff limbs protesting against the movement after so long. Loki's arm tightened around her middle, pulling her into his chest. The cold tip of his nose nuzzled into her shoulder blades before he sighed in his sleep and was still once more. Claire yawned, burrowing deeper into the warmth they'd created before letting sleep take her again.

Some time later she opened her eyes, blinking against the blinding sun. Clearly Astrid had already been in the room to open the curtains and stoke the fire. Slow, steady breaths came from behind her, and Claire glanced over her shoulder at her new husband who was still fast asleep. Claire smiled fondly, briefly considering rolling over to face him before deciding she was content where she was.

“Are you going to roll over or just think about it?” Green eyes opened, his crooked smile making her belly flip.

“I didn't want to wake you,” Claire bit her lip as his hand sank further down her belly, fingertips grazing the ticklish skin at her hips. She turned to her other side, his hand coming to rest on her hip. The pad of his thumb drew lazy circles on her skin as she settled against him. “Hi.” Loki gave an amused huff as both his eyes opened again.

“Hello.” He lifted his elbow, creating space for her and inviting her closer. Claire slipped her arm beneath his and scooted closer, gliding her hand along the smooth skin of his back as she pressed her face into his chest. Deft fingers caressed her skin, trailing up her spine and setting her nerves ablaze. The sweet heat of desire ignited in her belly, making her shiver. His throaty chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he tucked her against him, his head settling above hers on the pillow. Claire stretched, nestling against his chest as she let her eyes close. She was still so tired.

The hand she’d splayed on his back began to feel cold, exposed to the air in the room. Claire shifted the blanket so it covered his exposed skin and her hand.

“What was that for?” Loki murmured in the space between them.

“Didn't want you to get cold.” Claire said softly, her voice rough with sleep.

“Oh my darling,” Loki chuckled. “I don't get cold.”

“Oh,” Claire murmured, her voice muffled against his skin. “Okay baby.”

“Why do you call me that?” Loki asked softly. “I am not an infant.”

“I know that,” Claire laughed softly. “It's a term of endearment we use on Earth.”

“You call the people you care for infants?”

“I don't know why,” Claire giggled. “Do you not like it? I can call you something else.”

“Ordinarily I would not, but from you...I don't mind. Call me whatever you like, my darling.”

“I like when you call me that,” Claire murmured.

“Darling?”

“Yours.”

~~~~

Their first full day at the cottage was quiet and peaceful. Birds had nested outside the windows of their bedroom, and their cheerful song provided a lovely soundtrack to wake up to. They shared a late breakfast in the great hall by the fire before setting up camp in the library. Astrid brought them a light lunch to share, and sent them off with a basket of food when they left to explore the woods.

The afternoon heat chased them even under the canopy of trees, forcing them to relax in the shade beneath a tree. Loki spread a blanket on the soft grass, opening the basket to pull out snacks. Loki nearly dropped the container of strawberries in his hand when Claire’s blouse landed in his lap.

“Help me out of my pants?” she offered when he glanced over. “They’re stuck.” Loki swallowed the bite of strawberry in his mouth, eyes raking across her form as he fumbled over his words.

“Are they?” he asked, tongue lapping the sweet juice from his thumb before he set the berries aside. Her bare foot planted on his chest stopped him from attacking her. “Is that meant to stop me?”

“Noooo,” Claire giggled as he kissed the swell of her calf, fingers digging into the meat of her thigh before he pulled her closer. “You’re overdressed.”

“So I am.” Loki discarded his clothing swiftly, the strawberries abandoned as Claire wrapped her arms around him.

~~~~

Claire and Loki lay chest to chest on the blanket, sharing the strawberries as they basked naked in the shade.

“What convinced you to stay?” Loki asked softly as he fed Claire a strawberry. Claire savored the sweet, tart taste as she licked the juice from her lower lip.

“Besides the promise of this?” She ran an appreciative hand down his bare torso. Loki chuckled, sucking the strawberry juices from his fingers.

“Surely it was more than just me,” he trailed the backs of his fingers along her smooth curves. “As much as I would like to think it was.”

“You were a big part,” Claire replied sincerely as she turned to face him. “You going back to prison wouldn’t have been right. But I also think-” she poked him in the chest. “You deserve better than what you've been given,” She grabbed his chin between two fingers, pulling him down to kiss him slowly. “And I'd like to see you get it,” She murmured against his lips. An image of the pair of them bringing Asgard to its knees made Loki hum in pleasure. How was this delectable creature even real? “And I have to admit, the scary dog privilege is tops.” Claire sighed as she plucked a strawberry from the bowl. “Scary dog privilege?” Loki snorted. Claire giggled beside him, sharing a mischievous look.

“It's a silly saying we have back home. It means that people are less likely to mess with you if you have someone with you who looks scary. Or an actual scary dog.”

“I see,” Loki thought it was a strange thing, but most things Claire told him seemed strange. He took the bite of strawberry she offered, licking her fingers clean just to see the heat in her eyes. “Are you planning something devious?”

“Most likely. I kiiiinda have some unfinished business on Earth that I'd like to take care of,” Claire admitted sheepishly. “But with Odin's rule about only going back to earth once a year, I don't know that I'll be able to pull it off.”

“What sort of mischief are you up to, little wife?”

“I'll tell you about it someday,” Claire promised. “There’s no sense dwelling on it now.”

“Very well, I won't press you,” Loki offered her the last strawberry, holding it stead while she took a bite. “We should return. We’ve been gone for some time.”

“But it’s so nice having you all to myself.”

“It is,” Loki kissed her soundly, fingers doing their best to tame her wild hair. “But if we’re gone too long, someone will come looking, and then I shall be forced to commit murder when they see you naked.”

“I bet you offer to commit murder for all the girls.” Claire snickered as she pulled her pants back into place.

“I do not,” Loki scoffed. “I don’t care about them. I care about you.”

“You big softy,” Claire teased, squeezing him against her. “I’m telling everyone when we get back.”

“Don’t you dare!” Loki gasped. “I will have you know, madam, that I have a fearsome reputation to uphold.”

“Oooo I’m scared.”

“You should be,” Loki kissed her again, letting her turn him onto his back as he buried his hands in her hair. His groan morphed into a startled squawk when she began to tickle him, leaving him stuck on his back like a beetle as he came to his senses. Claire snagged her blouse from the blanket beside him and jumped to her feet. “Hey!” he shot up, spotting Claire’s naked back streaking through the greenery as she sped off.

“Catch me if you can! Last one back is a rotten egg!” she called gaily, her laughter evaporating like rain as she grew further away.

“What in Bor’s name…” Loki used his seidr to clothe himself, haphazardly shoving the blanket into the basket before tearing off after her. She wouldn’t escape so easily.

~~~~

The following day the skies opened and wind rattled the windows. Claire and Loki spent the day in the library, curled up together on the couch as they read.

~~~~

“What shall we do today?” Loki asked, his voice thick with sleep as he pulled her closer within the thicket of blankets.

“Hmm, I vote we stay here.”

“All day?” Loki chuckled, nuzzling against her cheek. “I hate to bear bad news, my darling, but if we wish to enjoy supper we need to replenish our stores.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“It means you’re going to have your first Asgardian hunt.”

They set off with a small group of the guards, armed with bows and arrows. Though Loki teased her, Claire successfully took down a small number of pheasants and a wild hog. Loki secured a stag, which along with the hog was being carried back to the cottage by the guards as he and Claire carried back the pheasants in a small sack.

“We can clean up in the outdoor bathing area,” Loki said as the cottage came into view. The idea of getting clean greatly appealed to Claire. They’d been out in the heat and the mud, thanks to yesterday’s rain, and she felt sticky and gross and tired. “It is just outside the great hall, beside the pool.”

“Join me?” Claire offered.

“In a moment,” Loki promised, tipping her chin up with a dirty finger so he could kiss her. “Our harvest needs to be recorded.”

“Don’t take too long, okay?”

“Of course.” another swift kiss to her lips and they parted ways, Loki disappearing inside while Claire sought the bathing area. She eyed the pool longingly as she passed it, finally coming across a stall with wooden walls. Stepping inside, Claire was delighted to see a shower. It was simple metal piping above a concrete slab floor with a drain and a bench, but a shower nonetheless!

Claire had just stepped under the spray when she heard familiar footsteps outside.

“Loki?”

“How are you my darling?” he asked gently. Claire did a quick assessment- her body was sore, both from the hunt and his attentions from this morning, but the hot water was already doing wonders.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you in any pain?” Loki asked as she wet her hair.

“No, I promise. I’m sore, but a good sore.” The door opened just enough for Loki to squeeze inside, the latch falling closed with a metallic clink. Loki looked exhausted as he began to strip, his filthy clothes joining hers on the bench. Claire turned away to scrub her face and lather her hair.

“It is strange.” he murmured softly as he followed the droplets of water on her skin with his eyes.

“What is?” Claire asked over her shoulder, hands wringing suds from her sodden hair.

“Just as you received a talk that was no doubt horrific before our nuptials, so did I,” Loki explained. “Thor was smug, of course. Smitten is not a word oft used to describe me, but he deemed it apt. Odin, however, spoke only of duty.”

“Eugh.” Claire cringed. Loki’s throaty laugh filled the steamy air.

“Indeed,” he agreed, his eyes roaming the planes of her back as his fingers ached to touch. Blue eyes beckoned him forward when she glanced at him over her shoulder. “This does not feel like duty.” His hands slid easily along her wet flesh as he pressed his chest against her back, holding her to him as he pressed his lips to her moistened neck.

“No it does not,” Claire sighed as she let her head fall back on his shoulder. His hardened cock pressed urgently against her ass, her pussy calling out for attention as his fingers roamed her wet flesh. “You’re distracting me again.”

“I am powerless to resist,” Loki’s tongue chased a water droplet along the seam of her neck, lips and teeth sealing around the flesh to tease a mark. “I beg forgiveness.”

“No you don’t!” Claire laughed, adoring the glide of his skin against hers. She reached between them, fingers wrapping around his heated length and making him groan. “You want to fuck me again.”

“I fear addiction is on the horizon,” warm breath caressed moist skin as Loki pressed a series of kisses along her neck. “I do so love when you fall apart for me.”

“I know you do,” Claire chuckled. “Are we gonna talk about your secret breeding kink?”

“Who said anything about ‘secret’?” Loki teased, fingers ghosting across her nipple and making her gasp. “I’ve long harbored a desire to fuck a woman full and see her grow round with my child. But not just any woman, of course. She had to be perfect,” one hand flattened over her belly, teasing the edge of the dark curls between her thighs. The other toyed with her nipple as she leaned against him, back bowing to press more fully into his hand. “And you. Are. Perfect.”

“I’ve thought about it too.” Blue eyes opened to meet his heated gaze. Loki’s brows rose in surprise.

“Have you?” he asked lowly, his eyes following the movement of her throat as she swallowed.

“More recently than usual,” Claire admitted. “Not that I’m ready-”

“Of course not,” Loki agreed hastily. “We agreed to wait.”

“Yes,” Claire said hurriedly. “But just...you know...I like the idea.”

“I look forward to it,” Loki nipped at her earlobe, his large hands grabbing handfuls of her plump buttocks as she giggled. “I shall stop distracting you and let you get clean.”

“How kind of you,” Claire snickered as Loki brought both her hands up to press soft kisses to her knuckles. “I do need my hands in order to do that.”

“Apologies, my lady,” Loki chuckled, making a show of releasing her hands. “Please, continue.” his heated gaze trailed over her wet body as she scrubbed herself clean with the sponge.

“You know how we agreed that men from Earth generally suck?” Claire’s words pulled him from his appreciation.

“Yes?”

“They’re very...dishonest. They say what they want to get what they want. You, on the other hand-”

“I am direct.”

“I was going to say earnest. You mean the things you say, and I appreciate that about you.”

“Everyone is always so surprised to learn that I do not lie,” Loki shook his head. “I merely can tell when they are told.”

“I didn’t say I was surprised, hot stuff. Just that I appreciate you,” Claire replied. “You have no reason to lie to me, just as I have no reason to lie to you.”

“Because you’ve already gotten everything you wanted?” Loki teased. Claire smiled as he stepped under the spray with her.

“Something like that.”

~~~~

“Loki?” Claire murmured in the dark, knowing full well that her husband was still awake.

“Hmm?” Loki cracked an eye from his pillow to look at her.

“What does it feel like?” Claire asked as she turned toward him, pulling the covers up to her chin. “Your magic.”

“My seidr?” Loki murmured sleepily. “It’s a sort of tingling sensation.”

“Like pins and needles, when your foot falls asleep?” Claire asked.

“Yes…but no. Here,” Loki said, lifting his hand to show her. Claire reached out and flattened her palm against his in the darkness. His hand dwarfed hers, his long slender fingers extending past hers and his palm completely covering her own. She could see a faint green glow coming from his hand and feel the soothing heat against her skin. “Feel that?” he asked softly, making his seidr slowly caress its way down her arm.

“Yeah…that’s really-” Claire giggled, fidgeting wildly as his seidr grazed her side. “Stop, that tickles!” she protested, laughing harder as the sensation found her most sensitive patch of skin.

“Something wrong, darling?”

“You ass!” Claire slapped him on the shoulder as he laughed. “You’re doing that on purpose!”

“Yes I am,” he shot her a shameless grin. “What’s that phrase you’re so fond of? ‘Sorry, not sorry.’”

“Quit stealing my catch phrases.” Claire grumped, shoving him onto his back. Loki chuckled as he let himself be pushed.

“Slytherin,” Loki reminded her as she straddled his lap. “Are you certain I’m not a Ravenclaw?” his hands came to rest on her thighs as she leaned over him, rocking her hips against his and making him gasp. Claire noted his reaction with satisfaction, a sly smirk on her face.

“Loki, we’ve been through this. Your mother is a Ravenclaw. You and I are certified Slytherins.”

“And what of Thor?” Loki goaded, his eyes falling half-closed as she ran appreciative hands up his chest.

“Thor? Please,” Claire scoffed as she leaned over him, her long hair falling in a curtain around them. “He’s such a Gryffindor. The lamest of the lame.” That earned her a low laugh and his fingers in her hair, anchoring her mouth to his as he kissed her possessively. Her brain made its usual note of surprise at how soft his hair was when she mirrored his actions, letting him turn her onto her back and nestle his hips between her thighs. He clutched her possessively as he dropped his weight on her, his body pinning hers into the bed. She could feel every inch of him, pressed against her as intimately as he was, and damn did she want him.

~~~~

“Have you ever had a lap dance?” Claire asked one afternoon. They were lounging by the pool, both of them practically naked as they basked in the sun. Loki was consumed by a book while Claire dozed on a settee. She’d been awake for some time, just watching him read. The clean lines of muscle glistening in the sunlight, the way the afternoon heat brought a flush to his cheeks, the veins in his arm as he propped up his sharp-enough-to-cut-glass jaw in his large hand. Remembering the feel of those hands had Claire squeezing her thighs together.

“I’m not familiar with that style of dance,” Loki replied absently. “Is it common on Midgard?”

“Very. Want me to show you?” Something in her tone made Loki glance up. Meeting her mischievous gaze, Loki was compelled to close his book. He set his copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone aside and leaned forward in his chair.

“Please,” he asked. “Are the steps difficult?”

“Not very, but you don’t have any.”

“It is a dance and yet I have no steps?”

“Yep. Just stay right where you are, mischief,” she winked at him. “I’ll be right back.” Intrigued, Loki’s eyes followed her pert behind until she disappeared inside. He settled back into his seat to wait, eyes falling closed as all manner of possibilities filled his head.

“Did you fall asleep, old man?” Claire scoffed when she returned.

“Of course not,” Loki replied with eyes still closed. “I was just imagining…” he trailed off when he opened his eyes to see her standing in front of him, clad in black lace lingerie. His mouth went dry as his eyes caressed her curves, all thoughts disappearing when he spied the string of pearls between her thighs.

“Imagining?” Claire prompted, smiling when he gave no response. “Did you want to see the back?” she asked knowingly. Loki swallowed, desperately trying to form words.

“Please,” Claire giggled, drawing her long hair over her shoulder before she turned. Loki groaned with want at the sight, fingers itching to work between the ribbon work decorating the sheer black lace concealing her body from him. Not one to deny himself his desires, Loki did just that. He wove his finger in between the criss-crossing satin ribbon at her lower back. Claire laughed as he tugged her closer, a squeak of giddy surprise escaping her as she let herself be pulled. His other hand wrapped around her thighs, squeezing the soft skin as his mouth latched onto the delicate curve of her hip. “What are the pearls for?” he asked, eyes fixated on the colorful artwork on her skin.

“Sensation- oh!” Loki heard her fingers move against the glass tabletop, felt her legs begin to tremble as he rubbed a knuckle along the string of pearls between her thighs. He could feel her body responding to him already, the tantalizing wetness growing slick behind the thin fabric of her panties. “Did you still want...the dance?” she managed to ask.

Oh the dance! How he longed to simply sit enraptured by her performance, watching her perfect body move in all its glory. Orchestrated destruction meant for him and him alone. The possessive beast in his belly reared its ugly head, demanding sacrifice. Yes, he wanted the dance.

“What does one do during these...dances?” He released his hold on her, allowing her to collect herself. Loki’s eyes darted from her ass to her breasts as she turned to face him.

“Well, in the strip clubs on Earth, you’re not allowed to touch the dancers. But I don’t have that rule.” One small foot stepped between his thigh and the arm of the chair as she climbed into his lap. She surged her hips forward, pressing her lithe body against his.

“Have you given lap dances before?” Loki blurted, his attention focused on her lace-clad breasts as she thrust them in his face. She was everywhere- he could smell her perfume and the sweat on her skin, feel her hands on his chest and her thighs as they clenched against his. To think that mortal men could simply pay for such an experience-

“Just once, for a job.” Claire replied, hands coming to rest on his shoulders as she lowered her core onto his thighs. She rotated her hips, forcing a gasp from him and making his fingers dig into her ass cheeks. “He was not nearly as attractive as you are.” she muttered as she leaned back, letting him see all of her body on display for him. The metal of her piercings sparkled in the sunlight and his mouth watered. Claire’s hips rolled, the pearls kneading along his aching cock and making his thighs shake. She did it again, drawing a ragged moan from his lips.

“Is-that so?” Claire rose up to press against him from navel to nose, fingers brushing his hair back from his face, blue eyes piercing through him as she met his gaze.

“Tell me I’m lying.” she challenged, a small smile teasing her full lips.

“You’re not,” Claire giggled as she leaned in to kiss him. Loki’s hands settled on her hips, bucking against her to torment her with the pearls in turn. She gasped into his mouth as the pearls teased her clit, her fingers digging into his shoulders with a moan. “I must...admit…”

“What?”

“I’m glad I am not the poor rube on Midgard you danced for.”

“Why’s that?” Claire asked, letting her head fall back as another whirl of her hips teased her with the outline of his cock. Loki sank his teeth into her neck as strong arms anchored her over his lap.

“Because unlike him, I can touch you,” he nipped at her ear lobe, fingers toying with the pearls in between them. “Lean back and let your husband see you,” He kept her steady as she obeyed, leaning back onto the table on her elbows. He drew her panties to the side to expose the wet and needy flesh beneath. “Gods, woman, you are magnificent.” he praised. His thumb dipped within her folds before it found her clit, working tight circles around the bud and making her whine.

“Loki,” she pleaded, hips following the motion of his thumb. “Don’t tease. That’s my job.”

“Forgive me,” Loki murmured as he worked two thick fingers into her pussy. Her head fell back as she moaned, her juices coating the digits as her legs quivered. His thumb began to circle her clit, and Claire’s fingers squeaked on the glass table. “Are you going to come for me, little wife?”

“Rather come on your dick-” Claire gasped.

“That is easily arranged. Can you stand?” he helped her to her feet, making sure she was steady before he let go of her hands. His cock throbbed as he dropped his gaze to her backside, fingers curling inside the skimpy fabric. “I am very tempted to rip these off of you.”

“They were a gift,” Claire protested. “From Tony Stark.” she added quietly. Loki huffed in amusement as he fingered the edge of the fabric.

“All the more reason,” he muttered. “But the design is rather fetching…yes, I think I’d rather fuck you with them on.” strong hands on her hips turned her away from him, his fingers sinking back into her pussy as the other hand pulled the panties aside. Claire grabbed the table for support, pleasure making her knees weak. Loki kissed down her spine, spreading her cheeks before plunging his tongue deep in her pussy. Claire’s top half met the table as her body sagged, overcome with pleasure and desire.

“Loki-” she pleaded. “Please-” Loki straightened, keeping the panties pulled aside as he fisted his cock. They moaned in unison as he fed his cock into her weeping pussy, pinning her between the table and his muscular body.

“Gods, you feel amazing-” Loki watched his cock disappear into her heat, his belly already beginning to tighten. Her walls rippled around him, silken muscles gripping him tight. Loki put more of his weight onto her as he swore, his stomach molding to the curve of her back. Half crazed with lust, Loki pressed as deep as he could, groaning in tandem with Claire as she wriggled her hips between him and the table.

Claire’s breathless plea spurred him into action. His hands curled around her shoulders, using them as anchors as he slammed his hips into hers.

The legs of the table screeched on the flagstones as Loki pounded into her from behind. Every thrust drove the breath from her body, the pearls driving her mad with added sensation on her clit and labia. Claire lifted her legs, wrapping around his thighs and holding him closer as he rocked his hips into hers.

The change in angle had her screaming as she came, gushing onto the flagstones beneath them. Loki grunted, hips pumping his spend deep inside her. A final shudder caused some to spill out onto the flagstones between his feet.

“Holy...shit.” Claire managed. Loki rubbed her thighs, his palms gliding along her skin as he helped guide her feet back to the ground.

“That is...quite a dance.” They both began to laugh as Loki stripped his clothing from his overheated body. Claire sighed as she watched him strip, fanning her flushed face with her hand.

“Loki?”

“Yes, darling?”

“You should fuck me in the pool next.” She undid the string keeping her halter in place before pulling it over her head and tossing it in his lap. “Pretty please?”

“Are you unsatisfied? Still?” Loki teased, but there was no venom in his voice. “I could perhaps be persuaded,” he glanced down at the material still clinging to her hips. “Toss us those as well.”

“Is that all it takes?” Claire laughed. “Come take them off for me.” she bit her lip, fingers teasing the fabric as she inched closer to the pool.

“Do as you are told, wife.” Loki’s eyes followed the movement, his cock already aching to be inside her again.

“Make me. Husband,” Claire shrieked as Loki lifted her off her feet, tossing her over his shoulder. “Loki, what are you doing?” she began to laugh as he caged her in with his arms, walking them toward the pool. “Loki, no!”

“Oh yes!”

“Loki! Ah!” Claire’s shout was cut short as they splashed into the icy cold water. They tumbled below the surface, Loki steering her upright to help her reach the surface. Claire wiped the water from her eyes once she found the edge of the pool, opening her eyes to see Loki surface, wet and disheveled and still so unfairly hot. His hard body pressed her against the unforgiving wall of the pool, water glistening along the hard ridges of muscle in his arms as he caged her in.

“Do you know what we should do tomorrow?” Loki asked.

“Nope. What?”

“Stark’s gift had other items like what you just wore. Not just clothes, but also various...apparatuses. I’d like you to show me what each of them does.”

“It says on the box-”

“I’m not asking for a reading, little wife. I’m asking for a demonstration.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll die if I orgasm that many times in one day.” Claire joked.

“Ah,” Loki grinned. “I don’t want you to finish- there are many, many items in the box. I want you…” his voice grew dark and deep as he spoke softly into her ear. He nipped at her neck, sucking a mark into the curve as chills erupted all over her body. “To show me how they work until you are on the precipice. And when you have shown me every. Last. One. I will give you what you desire. Right here, in this pool.”

“Won’t-um…” Claire’s eyes darted toward the cottage. “Won’t people see-”

“Not if they wish to keep their eyes in their heads. I don’t mind at all if they hear you, little wife, and they will,” Loki grinned. “But only I get to see you.”

~~~~

The next day

Life as a royal servant was never idle. Busy? Always. Dull? Often. Being the only staff on hand during the honeymoon of the prince and princess royal was a high honor, and full of inadvertent eavesdropping.

“Gods, again?” Astrid murmured to herself as the grunts and groans they were meant to ignore began once again. The prince and princess had been sequestered all day- as the days waned on their honeymoon they seemed to be even more amorous. She could hardly fault the young couple- to be young and in love and on one's honeymoon was an experience unto itself. Gods knew she likely would have done the same if she’d ever had the chance. With luck the princess would be carrying an heir soon- if she wasn’t already. “We should prepare something.”

“What would you suggest?” Ragna asked, her question punctuated by a high-pitched moan. “Cheese and meats?” A clatter came from the next room as the amorous couple knocked something onto the floor. Ragna blushed furiously as the prince gave a wordless shout. She'd become more familiar with the sounds of pleasure than she liked, but she supposed it was nice the couple was enjoying themselves. How many times had they enjoyed each other since waking? Ragna could scarcely be relied upon for an accurate record, as the moans and pleas seemed to blend together in an endless stream of noise.

“Perhaps something more...”

“Loki!” The princess wailed, her cry accompanied by the prince's approving groan.

“Substantial?” Ragna asked awkwardly.

“Best to wait until-” the bed began to strike the wall, the rhythm accompanied by indecipherable, breathless words of praise from the prince.

“Fuck- fuck!” The princess wailed, her words melting into a ragged scream as the prince growled out his completion.

“Until they tire themselves out.” Astrid said, her soft voice seeming far too loud in the ensuing silence.

Unbeknownst to the long suffering staff, they were in for a very long night.

~~~~

“I can’t believe it’s time to leave already,” Claire said mournfully as she and Loki enjoyed their last hours basking by the pool. “Please tell me we can come back sometime.”

“Of course,” Loki replied as he tangled their hands together. “There are many places I would like to take you.”

“And I’m excited to see them,” Claire pressed a kiss to his lips. “I like traveling with you.”

“Because I spoil you with orgasms?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Claire giggled, her pussy clenching at the memory of him using all those sex toys on her. Loki was a very enthusiastic learner. “But I do in fact, like you.”

“And I you. Has our percentage increased at all in our time here?” Loki asked, kissing her temple as he tucked her closer into his side. “I would like to hope I’ve done better than seventy percent.” Claire snuggled closer with a laugh.

“Oh, we’re easily at one hundred percent. We’re gonna be just fine, mischief.”

~~~~

Claire and Loki returned to the city with little pomp, arriving late in the afternoon after a long five days of traveling. Claire was ready to collapse in her new bed beside Loki. They’d been gone for a month, but she still remembered the lavishly soft sheets fondly. She was excited to settle into this new adventure and build a life with Loki.

The newlyweds were greeted by an elated Frigga, who insisted they tell her (almost) everything they’d done on their honeymoon. She wanted to know all of Claire’s opinions of the decor- things Claire frankly did not pay much attention to unless Loki fucked her on or near them.

“Now that you’re back, I would love to get your perspective on new draperies. It is so challenging to make these decisions alone.” Frigga said mournfully.

“Oh, uh...sure. I’d be happy to help.” she cast a pleading look at Loki, who thankfully understood and swooped in to rescue her.

“Why don’t we have tea tomorrow, mother? We are rather tired-”

“Of course, of course! Please, take a few days to settle back in before you go back to your duties. Tea can wait.” She gave Claire’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

Claire and Loki navigated the halls toward their chambers arm in arm. Ragna and Astrid had already returned and unpacked their things, so all they had to do was shed their travel clothes and collapse on the lounge in exhaustion. Astrid brought them plates of food so they could eat in privacy.

Comfortable silence reigned as Loki pulled Claire’s legs across his lap, absently massaging her calves as he stared at the fire. Claire dozed peacefully, too stubborn to get off the couch and go to bed. Astrid and Ragna finished tidying up and were about to leave for the night. Loki jostled his lightly snoring wife.

“Claire-”

“I’m up!” she bolted awake, rubbing her tired eyes as Loki got to his feet.

“Go to bed, little wife. I’ll be right behind you.” He’d been ignoring the elephant in the room- the assuredly humongous stack of paperwork that no doubt awaited him on his desk. He should at least attempt to make some sort of sense of it tonight.

Claire rose up on her tiptoes, hands pulling him close for a kiss. “Come be my soup spoon?”

“I should at least pretend to make an effort to sort my work,” he replied, hugging her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I won’t be long.”

“If you take too long I’m hogging the bed.” Claire threatened, preening when he kissed her forehead.

“I won’t!” he laughed. “Go to bed, menace.”

“Alright, fine!” Claire stepped out of his embrace. “Enjoy your paperwork. You could enjoy these instead,” she flashed her tits, giving him a cheesy smile. “Just sayin’.”

“Woman-”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Claire stuck her tongue out at him as she passed. Loki’s arm swept out and pulled her back, capturing her lips as she fell into him. His hand worked inside her shirt, cupping her breast and making her gasp into his mouth. He released her gently, mourning the loss of her warmth as he stepped away. “You’re really gonna go do paperwork after that?”

“The downside of marrying a prince, little wife. There are always responsibilities.”

“You did warn me,” she shrugged. “Just don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“I promise.” Claire disappeared into the bedroom with Ragna as he made his way into his study. Astrid was straightening a pile of papers on his desk.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed by now, Astrid?”

“We both should, Your Majesty, if you’re asking my opinion,” the older woman replied. “I did find some paperwork while unpacking your things, and placed them here on this stack.” Loki glanced at the stack the woman had rested her hand on. He didn’t recognize it, nor had he taken any work with him.

“Thank you, Astrid. Good night.”

“Good night, Your Majesty.” the woman closed the door behind her, leaving Loki alone with the mountain of paper.

Sighing heavily, Loki bridged his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his seat. The mountain in front of him was intimidating and he would much rather be in bed with his wife. But he knew he’d never be able to sleep without at least getting a start on it.

He would just sort it. Sparse out what needed review, what needed his signature, what was drivel.

He decided to start with the mystery papers Astrid had found.

Already weary, he pulled the folder toward him and flipped it open. His own face stared back at him- gaunt, emaciated, but still his face. He recognized the glass tank from S.H.I.E.L.D.s floating fortress in one photo, the Chitauri speeder in another. Behind the photos were print outs of tales from survivors. A circle was drawn around a story from a woman he’d pushed from the path of falling rock. Notes in block lettering asked questions to whomever looked at the file: -DRUGS? -NOT SLEEPING?

There was only one person who would have a file such as this. And she was asleep in his bed.

Loki’s stomach dropped as he realized the true purpose behind Claire’s journey to Asgard.

He’d been such a fool. It had all been a lie.

She did not care for him, not truly. She wanted to use him- though for what he couldn’t fathom.

How had she done it? How had she managed to lie tohim?! Sweat beaded at Loki’s temples as he flushed with anger. A block of writing on the back of a page caught his eye, frowning as he pulled the paper closer. Two columns of words with a line drawn between them.

Propping his head in his shaking hand, he scanned his eyes down the columns.

VOLATILE

LIKES SNAKES/STABBING

SUPERIORITY COMPLEX

The column beside it had fully different words:

ASSHOLE

POETRY

THOUGHTFUL

The word ‘asshole’ had several circles drawn around it. Below the second column, Claire had scrawled ‘ANNOYING’ in her block letters.

She thought him annoying? She was annoying, with her poor manners and ridiculous slang phrases. A blast of seidr sent papers flying in every direction, spurred by his frustration. Loki reached into a side drawer for the miniature cask of mead he kept tucked away. He was not much for drinking but he felt it was needed. His stomach was already a mess anyway, what more could it hurt?

He growled through the burn as he swallowed the mead.

What in Bor’s name was he supposed to do?

He could kill her. She couldn’t manipulate him if she was dead.

But despite his anger and humiliation, he did not want to. Pathetic as he was, he genuinely did care for her. How could he have been so stupid?!

He couldn’t kill her, not if he wanted to go on living his life. He’d end up in the dungeons again, or worse, the executioner’s block. There was no tangible way to remove her from his life- they’d both signed that damned treaty and there was no getting out of it now that they’d been wedded and bedded.

Bile threatened to make him vomit as he thought about all the times they’d been intimate. Had that been an act too? She’d certainly distracted him with her pierced nipples and saucy under clothing. He took another drink of the mead, letting the burn soothe his hurt.

He wanted her gone. Her chambers from before the wedding would have to be far away enough. Downing the mead, he refilled his glass and trudged to the bedroom. The door creaked slightly as he stepped inside, the low light from the dying fire casting elongated shadows.

Her familiar shape lay in his bed, curled into a ball as she clutched his pillow. He gave a snort; how had she expected him to sleep?

She didn’t. Everything she’s done has been to lull me into a false sense of security.

From the beginning, she’d played him for a fool. Thor must have told her how alienated he felt, how isolated. Any idiot could have pulled his strings like she did, and he was stupid enough to believe she was genuine.

His glass burst into shards in his hand, cutting his palm and startling Claire awake.

“Loki? You okay?”

“Do I look alright?” he hissed, nursing his cut hand as blood and alcohol dripped onto the floor.

“You’re bleeding.” Claire climbed out of bed, walking past him to the bathroom. Loki heard her run water. She reappeared a moment later, offering him a wet cloth. He pulled away like she’d tried to burn him.

“I don’t need your pity.”

“Loki, look at me,” Claire said, her voice soft and soothing. “Can you tell me what happened? You were fine when I went to bed.”

“Oh yes, I’m fine!” Loki hissed. “As are you, since your plan has obviously worked so well!”

“What plan?” Claire asked, eyes darting down to his bleeding hand. “Will you please let me clean that?”

“Do not touch me!” Loki snarled, pushing her away. “You have done more than enough damage-”

“What are you talking about?” Claire asked, once again using that annoyingly caring tone.

“You know damn well what I am talking about- at least have the decency to admit it.”

“I can’t admit to something I haven’t done,” Claire said calmly. “How much have you had to drink? Is it that bad?” She had no frame of reference for his workload, but she also didn’t know Loki to drink often.

“Yes,” Loki admitted hollowly, allowing his melancholy to overwhelm him. “Which is why-”

“Here, step back,” Claire ushered him away from the broken glass. “Why don’t you sit down so you don’t cut your feet?” she steered him toward the bed, her grip growing stronger when he resisted.

“Woman-” she gave him a little push, releasing him as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’ll be right back.” she disappeared from the room, no doubt going to summon Astrid or Ragna. Loki fumed in silence until she returned. “Let me get something to clean up the glass and then we’ll clean your hand. Have you seen Mochi?” Loki huffed, then glanced over his shoulder to see the peacefully snoring cat occupying the bed.

“She is fine.”

“That’s good. Tiny paws and broken glass do not mix. So-” his annoying wife heaved a sigh. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“What?”

“You’re not usually one to drink, but you’re drunk. You’re stressed about something-”

“You know this because you know me so well?” Loki asked angrily. “You think you know everything about me-”

“No, of course not,” Claire replied as he got to his feet. “Loki, just sit down, I’ll-”

“DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

“I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“Care about me, do you?” Loki laughed darkly, taking a step toward her. “You care so much!” Another step. His dagger appeared in his hand, and the soft light in Claire’s eyes hardened. “Stop pretending, you little charlatan, I know.”

“Loki, back off or I will defend myself.”

“Oh, please do,” another step had her back pressed against the wall. “Then I can claim self-defense-”

“Forgive the intrusion, Your Majesties, I came as soon as I-” Astrid stopped short when she saw the scene before her. The princess was backed into a corner, Loki’s dagger glinting menacingly in the firelight.

Claire seized the opportunity, shoving the hand holding the dagger aside, sending it clattering to the floor. She punched Loki in the jaw, grabbing him by the arm and twisting, ducking into a roll and sending him flying over her head. Astrid screamed as Loki struck the wall, Mochi yowled in fright as the loud sound woke her. The guard from outside the door came barreling in as Claire was getting to her feet.

“What in Odin’s name is going on?”

“I think the prince had too much to drink,” Claire explained. “I gave him a warning to leave me alone and he wouldn’t-”

“Playing the victim, are you?” Loki ground out as he got to his feet. “I never put a hand on you.”

“You would have.” Claire said bitterly. The guard looked at Astrid, who looked panic-stricken at best.

“You had your dagger out, sire. She had no weapon at all.”

“Clearly she doesn’t need one!” Loki argued.

“I asked you to back off!” Claire shouted over him. “Is this why you don’t drink; because you turn into-”

“A monster?” Loki guessed. “Isn’t that what you wanted?!”

“Wait, what?” Claire stopped short. “What are you-”

“You know damn well,” Loki interrupted her. “And I will not suffer you to be anywhere near me. You will return to the chambers you lived in before we married.”

“But-”

“Let us be honest, I am a very busy man, and you will only be underfoot.”

“Okay, so I’m new to this, but-”

“I will not have time to coddle you!” Loki sneered. Claire stepped away from him, hurt clear on her face.

“Why are you acting like this? That’s not what you said before!” she hissed. “I’m not expecting you to coddle me, but you did say you would help me. Now you’re just kicking me out? What the fuck?! What am I supposed to do?!”

“I could not care less how you spend your days, as long as they do not intersect with mine,” Loki snarled. “You got what you wanted, and now you must deal with the fallout.”

“I don’t understand-”

“I will summon you when I have need of you,” Loki said dismissively. “If ever.”

“And when will that be?” Claire said sharply. “When it’s time to have a baby?”

“If that is what you need to believe,” Loki shrugged. “I will have your things returned to you.”

“Fine. Be a dick,” Claire scoffed in disbelief. “So glad I stuck around for this.” She moved past him toward the bed.

“Did you not hear me? GET OUT!”

“I’m taking my cat before you try to kill her too, you paranoid sack of shit!” Claire shouted back at him. “Astrid, please clean up the glass before he hurts himself even more.”

Loki let her storm out, relieved to finally be alone. Ever since he found that file-

Tears stung his eyes as he made his way to the bathroom to clean his hand, his legs heavy with the weight of defeat. He’d been such a fool. For all her words and actions, she’d wanted nothing more than to use him.

Never again.

Loki couldn’t believe she’d managed to fool him- not once had he sensed even a hint of a lie.

Whatever trap lay in wait for him, sooner or later Claire would make her move. And when she did, he would destroy her.

#meowmeow writes #covenant #loki fic #loki x ofc

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bibissparkles · 2 years ago

Text

charles leclerc x reader / instagram au

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*six months later, nobody figure it out who they're dating, until...*

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hannahssimblr · 11 months ago

Text

Chapter Fifteen (Part 2)

“I can’t stay long.” I remind him as we settle into a bench facing the pond where normally a hundred ducks and swans strut and swim about but today is frozen and still like glass. The frost on the bench instantly melts and soaks into the seat of my jeans, sending a shiver through me.

“I get it.” He says. “I just feel like I need to explain myself, like, what was going on with me on Saturday.”

“I’m all ears.”

“It’s complicated. Stuff is just a mess at the moment I…”

“Family stuff, like?”

“Yeah. It’s been a bit all over the place with my dad’s… estate, I suppose, if you can even call it that.” He takes a steadying breath. “It’s like, not even a huge deal it’s just, like…”

I feel a mini surge of sympathy for him, it really must be so difficult to lose a parent, even if he wasn’t close with his father, it must be a lot to have to handle. “What’s all over the place?” I ask him. “Money stuff?”

“Well like, he didn’t have any actual money. I think he had probably a hundred and ten euros in his account, so split three ways between his kids we’re getting a cool thirty seven euros off of him.”

“Oh.”

“Everyone is just going mental, fighting over his stuff, not that he had much of that either but his car is worth something, his TV, and like, the things that don’t matter to me but matter to my sister, like photos… ”

“You can’t have any photos?”

“No. He was living with our aunt when he died, and she’s completely nuts. She won’t let us have anything. She won’t even let us come into the house to look through his things, as if it’s worth shit to her. She called the guards on my brother Darren for going over to try and talk to her about it, says my dad would have wanted nothing to do with us, which I suppose is fair enough on Darren’s part, he’s been a bit unpredictable over the years, but my sister Millie was only two when he left us. She never did nothing to him, she just wants something of his to have.”

“It sounds really messy.”

He shoves his hand into the front of his hair and pulls it, revealing more of that dark brown regrowth at the roots. “So it’s just this, and my ma is crying down the phone to me all the time because when Darren gets into trouble she just loses the plot, and when she starts crying so does Millie, and I never have time to do anything ‘cause I just deal with them and work and go to college and then try and do all my assignments and it’s way too much.”

I put my hand on his shoulder, sensing that he’s about to spiral. “It’s alright.” I say. “You’re just doing what you can.”

“And the only way I can get through my shift is to do a bump of coke, otherwise I feel like I’d collapse” He barrels on. “And then I kind of lose control of that sometimes too, and on Saturday, like, me and one of the other lads got ketamine…”

“It’s alright.” I interject. I don’t really want to know the details of exactly what he did, preferring for that particular part of his life to remain a mystery to me.

“I shouldn’t have come to your birthday when I was like that, I’m ashamed of myself. I shouldn’t even be doing things like that to myself so that I can run away from my life.”

“It’s fine, Dean.”

“It’s not really fine. I can’t deal with the feeling like I’ve messed something up here.” He points to me and then himself. ‘Like you’re not gonna want to hang out with me anymore.”

I sigh. “It’s not… It’s not only you, Dean, and the way that you were, I think it’s all of it. I’ve been having realisations in this last week, like, that I feel unhappy about myself lately, and that I don’t like who I am when I hang around with Marnie and Fiona. It’s been so nice to be home with just Claire and remember what it’s like to have an actual friend who… enjoys having me around.”

“Marnie and Fiona are rotten, I don’t like hanging out with them either, they’re just posh girls who don’t get anything about what it’s like to have to work for things.”

“Yeah, well, maybe, but I’m tired of all of the bitching, of them talking behind each other’s backs all the time. I don’t want to be a person like that anymore, it makes me feel hollow.”

“Yeah but you aren’t like them. You’re different.”

“Lately I don’t feel like I am.”

“You’re a nice person, Evie, anyone can see that. You put up with a lot of bullshit. You can stop hanging out with them, in fact, I’d actually love it if you stopped, because that way I wouldn’t have to hang out with them either.”

I eye him distrustfully. “Why did you start coming out with us in the first place?”

The corner of his mouth twitches up. “To get to you, obviously.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah seriously.”

“You put up with people you didn’t like just to be around me?”

“Of course.”

I watch his face for any signs of dishonesty but if there are any I don’t spot them, and that’s when I feel my defences start to fall away. The tension in my spine softens and I lean back into the bench. “So you like me.”

“Yeah.”

“You still like me?”

“I do.”

I look at him, and he looks at me, and I begin to realise that I have no idea what to do. Never in my life have I experienced a situation where someone has openly admitted to liking me, to my face, and I haven’t wanted to run away and hide from them.

“So…” I venture. “Where do we go from here?”

He lifts his ankle to rest on his knee and gazes out over the frozen pond contemplatively. “We can just keep doing what we’re doing, I’m not really in the headspace to take on anybody else’s baggage right now. No offence.”

“Okay.” I say with hesitation, but he guides me through the murkiness with him, because I am flailing. “We can hang out, but like, I don’t think I want to be your boyfriend or anything like that, if that’s alright with you.”

“I get it.” I feel a slight thrill at the suggestion of being involved in something casual. I am never casual, I don’t simply go with the flow, everything always must be agonised over, but how exciting will this venture be for me? Evie Kilbride: in a casual relationship. “What does that mean though, exactly?” I find myself asking, because despite my best intentions I can’t quite let go.

“What do you mean? We’ll be casual.” He says it like it’s somehow obvious, and I shake my head. “Like, no, what are the terms?”

He laughs awkwardly, clearly not thrilled about having to explain something so rudimentary to me. “We can hang out and hook up, but I am not your boyfriend.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “What do you think it means?”

“Will you be seeing other people?”

“Do you think I’ll have the time to?”

I smile. “Okay so what now, should we shake on it?” I hope he’ll pick up on the humour in my tone, even though he never does seem to be able to tell when I’m trying to be funny.

“Why would we shake on it?”

“Never mind.”

We kiss instead.

An hour later when I arrive back at the apartment Claire and Shane are right where I left them, sprawled out on the couch watching a film. They look cosy together, curled up with their arms linked and her head resting on his shoulder. She looks around and smiles sleepily when I come in the door. “Hey babe, how was your walk?”

“Good! I did a long loop of the town, so now I’m pretty tired.” I quickly hide the Mulan book behind a backpack by the coat rack.

“Come watch this movie, we’re just starting it.”

“What is it?”

“Miss Congeniality.”

“Claire’s choice.” Shane hastens to explain as I come over to perch on the floor in front of them. Claire’s hand reaches down almost instinctively and starts massaging my scalp with her fingers. The gesture is so comforting and sends lovely shivers down through me and I instantly unwind and let all my muscles soften. I peel off my socks and hold my cold feet, hoping to bring some warmth back into them after being sunk into the snow for hours.

“You’ll never guess who came by earlier.” She tells me.

“Hm?”

“Dean.”

“Oh no, really?” I murmur. “What did you do?”

“We told him you weren’t home and then we got him to leave. I’m so glad you weren’t here.”

“Me too.”

“Hopefully he won’t show up here again, it was just so weird.”

“Mm” I say. “Well I’m glad you got rid of him.”

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims4 storytelling #sims 4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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gotham-ruaidh · 2 years ago

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Outlander 31 Day Challenge: Day 11

Welcome to the Outlander 31 Day Challenge!

Today is Day 11: Favorite Marsali Scene

Hands down, when she kills Lionel Brown in 05x12 "Never My Love."

To avenge herself, and the harm he had caused her. but more than that - to avenge Claire, who she called her Ma.

Considering Claire and Marsali's first conversation, this is remarkable. And a stunning moment of badassery to boot!

#outlander #outlander 31 day challenge #marsali fraser

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chchcharliebrown · 2 months ago

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Carmy's behaviour in season 3 of the Bear

So I have seen some other posts discussing aspects of this but wanted to make my own with some thoughts on this topic and to see what other people were thinking. After two absolutely phenomenal seasons (season 2 being some of my favourite television ever made) I had so many issues with season 3 (including the uninterrupted Fak comedy routine culminating in that god awful John-Cena-being-called-in-to-mop-but-not-actually-mopping-the-floor scene), and one of the main ones was Carmy's behaviour and how the people around him are responding to it. This is a pretty long post, just as fair warning.

To start out with, I do of course understand that Carmy's a very troubled character and that the end of season two left him wanting to make some kind of a drastic change and deciding that he should not have a life outside the restaurant. And like, so far so good, but the way the show then went about it felt so weird to me. Literally one of the things he talks about, at the height of his emotional outburst in the freezer, is how he was at a point of functioning and had a routine, and how the relationship was (in his eyes) the wrench that messed everything up. So then why is the first step in this season not have the painful conversation with Claire where he apologises, but also breaks up for good, because clearly thats what he thinks is needed for him to function properly and focus again?

Instead, the show teases the Claire conversation for the entire season (I have no idea if there's eventual plans of a possible reunion and they want it to happen once Carmy has his shit together again but I still find it so weird there's not even like, an attempt at an apology on his part, which she could still ignore for now), and has Carmy decide that he's actually going to absolutely mess up any sort of routine he previously has by introducing a ton of NEW changes into his life. Not only does he quit smoking, he creates more obstacles for everyone by suggesting the constant menu changes and super irresponsible spending instead of just running the restaurant for a while as is and actually trying to generate some profit. Instead of trying to iron out the kinks that came up during their first night and doing his level best to get the restaurant running absolutely perfectly, and learn some actual lessons from season two like being more available when Sydney wants to talk about the menu for example, he becomes less available than he was even last season, which, again, is weird to me.

They still could have had the central plot line be about Carmy working himself too hard or showing other self-harm adjacent behaviours, or there being friction with the other characters about some decisions he makes or his management style, or the same plot line they did introduce about him being creatively frustrated, which would have nicely echoed a lot of things we have already seen about how it's important to get 'out there' and find inspiration in places outside your restaurant, from Syd's food tour in season two to Markus's experience in Copenhagen or what Chef Terry tells Richie about her dad's diary. Like, by all means show the character continuing to struggle or maybe even regress in some ways, all of that could still work really well with the story you set up so far. But for the show to establish the 'Carmy doesn't prioritise Sydney as a partner' thing as a problem in season two, have the character have a big breakdown at the end of that season where he comes to the conclusion that he really did let his team down (even if his exact reasoning is flawed that's still what he firmly believes), and that he needs to be completely focused on this restaurant and this team going forward, only to then...continue to be absent as hell and not listen to what any of them say? It just felt so bizarre to me. He even says the reason he wants the star is because Sydney said this was important to her, but then he still totally blanks her on so many occasions.

There is also the fact that one of the things that made season two so great was showing how the restaurant is a collaborative enterprise and that everyone had a part to play, and the fact that the last two seasons have shown us Carmy doesn't have much of a head for the business side of things (or maths in general). Knowing this, and having seen many examples of Unc, Sydney and Sugar call him on that previously, WHY ON EARTH is everyone just going along with all his decisions here? In the past when he'd get prickly and started being an asshole when he was stressed someone (often Syd) would be like Hey you gotta take it all the way down dude, and then he'd calm down relatively fast and they'd have a conversation about it. But now, even though they all have so much tied up in this restaurant, their time and effort of course but also in many cases their livelihood or for Unc a sizeable chunk of money, why are they all just letting him run rampant like a kid in a candy store? Literally change the passwords on whatever spending account he's using and have an intervention where you remind him money is still real and we still need to worry about it.

The same is true for the menu changes every single day. I find it so mind boggling that after one conversation everyone's like 'Guess there's nothing we can do he's made up his mind' like..you are not his minions? He's not a dictator? He's not even a guy who singlehandedly owns the restaurant or finances it. That's your kid brother / friend you've known all your life / mostly very nice boss who bought you a very thoughtful gift and told you he didn't want to do this without you not one day ago. They act like Carmy's somehow able to just bulldoze them into all this stuff when again, a really big part of season two was people correcting him on his numbers and telling him the things he was used to at other restaurants like the absolute fanciest plates were not realistic at this place, or them using personal contacts to help with repairs or hook them up with ham. There was no room in the budget for the fancy plates and so they just didn't get those plates. End of the god damn story. But now it's like Carmy says 'we just gotta buy all these madly expensive ingredients to use once, it's necessary' and everyone, from Nat to Sydney to Unc just like..accepts this? Again, stage an intervention if necessary or forcefully remove his ability to make financial calls like that, but don't let him run this restaurant into the ground (a restaurant which ALL OF YOU have a stake in) just bc you suddenly think you need to respect his every decision.

The main reason why I hated seeing this development was also just because it felt very incongruous with who Carmy has been set up to be as a person so far. I think it's fair to say that the vast majority of the time he has been shown to be a very kind and thoughtful character whose mental issues most destructively manifest in the way he treats himself, rather than in how he treats other people. It's true that he flies off the handle when he feels stressed or provoked, but to me at least the only time he truly crossed a line so far was while he was stuck in the walk in freezer saying those things to Richie at a massively heightened emotional state. Yes, he was also too intense during his outburst in season one that caused Sydney to quit, but to me at least that was a lot more understandable because even though Marcus is a sweetheart and I would die to him, he really should have taken the hint the first seven times and realised there is a time and a place for those god damn donuts and that time is not the middle of service. And when this happened he also apologised to both of them afterwards.

But this season suddenly makes it seem like Carmy's worsening mental health turns him into like, alternatively a zombie who doesn't seem to truly hear anything anyone says to him, which I know might be realistic for some people in some situations, but it makes for some incredibly frustrating television because it makes a lot of what should be poignant dialogue feel pretty pointless or like those conversations don't lead anywhere, but then at the same time it turns him into a tyrant who blames everyone around him at all times, when again, there were so many moments in season two alone where he went "Oh don't worry, it was probably my fault". A really good example is when they are working on new recipes and the sauce Sydney makes turns out to be too acidic. She apologises in case she messed up his recipe and he immediately goes Don't worry I probably gave you the wrong numbers. Again, this is a character who has had no shortage of onscreen apologies, for small and major things. I think in a lot of ways, in addition to that just being what his personality is like, it might even have been an active attempt to not be like Donna, constantly talking about how she's the only one doing anything and blaming everyone else, or Mikey blaming everyone but himself for his failing businesses. He was always a "going down with the ship, we're a team, this isn't gonna be like one of the kitchens I worked in" type captain. And I'm all for exploring dark sides to a character but it should still be consistent with what you've shown us so far.

Maybe on some level Carmy feels like he needs to mentally get back to a time in his life when he was at his most 'efficient', but I would still find that kind of a weird conclusion to come to because his problem was never that he lacked assertiveness in the kitchen, his problem was (again, in his understanding) having a relationship/allowing himself to find fulfilment outside of work and that taking away from his focus. Once he changes that and becomes fully dedicated to the restaurant again why are we not seeing more of a regression to season one Carmy, who was still an anxious mess, but again, generally made an effort not to be a dick to his staff and apologised when it did happen.

I also think there could have been some really interesting potential in exploring Carmy experiencing a version of what Richie felt in the last season, a worry of everyone in his life abandoning him and finding that they no longer actually need him. I think they could very easily have gone into this, especially after he discovers that while he was locked in the freezer they managed great without him and worked together very well. To a character whose sense of identity and self-worth is so rooted in how good he is at this one thing, I think it would have made complete sense for him to initially lose it and try to wrestle back control somehow, but as I said, another massive issue I have is that this _works_ and that everyone is letting him do this. I also find it kind of weird Richie isn't more concerned about him given everything that happened with Mikey. I know they hurt each other during the freezer fight but if we're being honest, Richie (despite being the loveable kind of asshole) has had more than his fair share of outbursts and unhelpful behaviour during the first two seasons, and instead of ditching him like Richie was worried he might, Carmy finds the perfect place for him to stage that fills him with a newfound sense of purpose. Carmy understood him so well and came through for him when he needed it, and in return we see Richie do so little to try and get through to Carmy and help him in return. That was kind of disappointing too, because like a lot of other people have pointed out, these relationships, the one Carmy has with Sydney but really all the different relationships at the restaurant, are really the beating heart of the show. You take that out and it loses so much of what made it great. We never even see Carmy interact with Sugar after she had her baby, or hold said baby for the first time. Like wtf?

My last point is about feeling super weird about trying to liken Carmy to his former boss (the New York chef) this season. The only reason any of the parallels they are trying to highlight between Carmy, Syd, and said former boss even remotely work is because both Carmy and Syd are acting like such radically different people this season. There is, again, this really bizarre lack of communication between Sydney and Carmy this season (and all of the characters in general). In the past whenever Carmy stepped out of line or got too loud or shitty with his instructions (or whenever any person in the kitchen crossed a line really) Sydney was always the first to be like That's not on dude, you gotta take it all the way down. I think the show has repeatedly and thoroughly established she's not scared of Carmy the way he was of the New York chef. Even when he was being an asshole to her in the past she mostly found it annoying and uncalled for and then they had a conversation about it and he would apologise. Sydney knows he'd never do smth like badmouth her to try ruin her reputation at other restaurants should she leave the Bear, for example, or do other things that would hurt her career. When Carmy makes a comment that implies she's worried she can't keep up with him in terms of skill, she's, again, annoyed at the implication and tells him so to his face. I get making larger points about how we repeat the patterns we know and how work environments like that can dampen the joy you once felt for the profession, make you far more anxious, it happened to Carmy, now he's doing it to Syd, etc, but I still felt like this could have been handled much more subtly, or maybe once Sydney did take the job at that new restaurant and her new boss turns out to be awful. Introducing this particular dynamic that again, seems very keen to draw parallels to some of the unbelievably heinous abuse Carmy underwent, with these two characters in particular, required Carmy to become a much bigger asshole very quickly, and it required Syd to suddenly become much more passive as a character, and for both of them to not be even remotely close anymore, seemingly overnight. Which again, I found weird, because she's not the one he yelled abuse at through the freezer door. They didn't have a particular falling out in the climax of the last season. Show their relationship getting worse, sure, but I still think it is incredibly different to what Carmy went through with his boss in so many ways, so I'm hoping they're not going to continue in that direction because it just feels incongruous for them both.

Of course I understand that the stress and trauma are getting to both of them and that the showrunners wanted to do something new with this season, but this just didn't feel like natural and subtle character progression to me so much as a way to artificially inflate the drama (much like what they did with endlessly teasing cliffhangers like the review or Syd leaving or not leaving or whether Carmy will ever talk to Claire). I think there is a difference between writing a character who acts in ways that are 'irrational' in the sense that they act in a certain way because of distorted mental perceptions and destructive habits, or other things explicable by their mental illness, and characters whose actions are completely inconsistent with all the behaviour they've exhibited so far. Because it's not like we've only ever seen Carmy as this totally healthy person who then had an experience that totally knocked him off his course. He's been varying shades of unwell for this entire show and all the flashbacks we've seen. But until this season he was also always very consistently written. To me, trauma and mental illness just aren't a get out of jail free card for having a character behave in ways that make absolutely no sense (again, based on what we already know about them), and having all the characters around them respond to it in similarly nonsensical ways. If they really wanted Carmy to go down this more villain-esque road of turning into his former mentor I just wish they'd written a scenario where that development would have felt more organic, and happened more gradually.

I'm really hoping they'll find a way to still turn things around because I honestly still love this show but I am very worried at this point.

#the bear

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pureseasalt · 1 year ago

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traces of ink (sydney x carmy)

made after seeing the post by @theladyvalkyrieskyeart . feeling insane over the idea of carmy drawing syd. i dont believe that he has never done it after meeting her the writers and cast are lying to us.

posted on pureseasalt on ao3, but posting here again. no beta. i wrote this in one go and blacked out after.

Summary: He lied when he said he’d never drawn again until Claire. He did. Once. (Set pre-season 2. Carmy has a panic attack. Guess who he remembers to help him cope.)

Words: 1.7k

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It was probably the middle of the night. Carmy couldn’t be exact about that. His memory’s kinda fucked– been fucked, since Mikey, or even before that. There were times from high school when Mom would go full apeshit ‘cause she told him to get the phone, to make some calls or just to embarrass Sugar by letting her hear the fights she picks with the phone operator. “No- no, sweetheart, I said don’t fucking put me on hold ever again– yeah? Alright! Go fuck yourself!” Something like that. Anyway, Mom would get mad at him ‘cause she told him to get the phone and somehow, he’d just forget that she did. He’d insist, “I didn’t hear you, Ma!” And he’d believe that; that he didn’t really hear her because in his head it never happened.

But somehow it always did. She’d tell him things that never seemed to have happened.

This one, he just couldn’t remember when he did, or why.

Carmy does a lot of things that he could only truly understand the reason behind after the fact he’s done it. All he knew, at that time, was he couldn’t sleep. He’d woken up in cold sweat after having one of those nightmares. He was in the middle of the stage and there’s a stove right in front of him and Chef was there. At the very middle of the seats. No audience but him. The smell of gasoline pervaded but there was no fire burning. No one else in the theater but Carmy and a man who smiled at him like he was the only one who knew the lines.

And just when Chef was about to say it– “You are an excellent chef,” Carmy’s hand collided with the coffee table, jolting him awake.

You are also a piece of–

“Shit, shit, shit,” Carmy hissed as he cradled the smarting joints. He sat up feeling as if the world had ended in his sleep and he was the only one left. In many ways, at that point, he actually was. His sous and pastry chef had walked out on him without any notice. Carmy knew that it was only a matter of time until the rest would do the same, even Richie, because Carmy was Carmy and making people stay had never been his specialty. Look at Mikey.

The lighter wasn’t anywhere to be found so smoking was out of the window. He couldn’t calm himself down. His heart was running ahead of him and he was practically lugging his body around the room, pacing around looking for a destination. Not there, he reprimanded as he thought about the restaurant. It all still felt so raw. If he went there now he might still hear his own voice, the same way his mother’s voice echoed past the kitchen and into the living room, invading whatever silence it finds and staying there.

So he settled for the floor, next to the stack of cookbooks. The wood creaked beneath him as he crouched down, eventually sitting to fiddle with his thumbs and grip his hair by the roots. His breathing was still messed up, but at least he could see clearly. One book strayed from the rest, he even noticed. Fish Plate by Michelle Rhimes. Its hardbound cover was sticking out and didn’t lay flat like the last of its pages, on the account of something stuck inside.

He picked it up and flipped through the table of contents; through honey-glazed tilapia and fish florentine. There was a pen clipped to a blank piece of paper. Well, not completely blank. Someone had scribbled 1 tbsp dried thym and didn’t bother finishing it. Must have been him. He knew it was him. That was the funny thing about memory.

His was fucked, yes, but there were details that his brain permanently latched on, sometimes whispering to him in bed like Angry Annie, his bully from first grade, recounting all his mistakes for the entire class to laugh at and refusing to just let him have a good night’s rest without wanting to hit himself. Carmy recalled that he’d written that note for his next door neighbor back in New York. This old couple that routinely asked him for a good trout recipe after they found out that he was a chef. Both of them were hard of hearing, so Carmy thought of writing it down.

By the time he’d gotten around to doing it, they’d already moved out.

The rainbow trout on page 79 stared back at him and Carmy blew air out through his nose.

His brain had a knack for comedic timing.

The pink bellied fish looked exactly like the one on Sydney’s scarf.

The one that seemed peach-pink sometimes under the midday sun. “I feel like I’m owed one,” she told him on one of those days when she wore it (Trout scarf, he’d labeled it in his head) (Nice scarf, looks beautiful, he sometimes wanted to say, but that was just weird). She ribbed him that time at the back of the restaurant, which he so rightfully deserved.

What boss leaves the wrangling of a batshit, toxic system to a new hire so that he could attend an Al-Anon meeting and make sense of his brother. Who also happened to be dead.

Asshole.

Syd should’ve called him an asshole that day.

She should’ve left that day.

Instead, she laid out her heart– “This place could be different,” in a manner so concise and cogent and honest that, by the end of it, he’s surprised he’s not wiped out on the floor mouthing, like the crazy that he is, "What the hell just happened.” Because that was more than he ever deserved at that moment. When she talked to him like that it was as if Carmy had been brought back to earth. Sobered up after a long life of passing through doors on nothing but frantic energy. Talked down, excluded, not called, shouted at. Then all of a sudden somebody sits him down and levels with him, tells him, “Hey, dude, I’m with you. Give me the respect I deserve. You’re not the only one in here. I’m with you. ”

All he could do was nod to everything Syd was saying.

And she laughed with him and she said, “Fuck brunch.”

Fuck brunch.

He shook his head. In the middle of a fucking panic attack and he’s chuckling. He looked down and realized that he’d been pressing the pen cap, leaving dashes of blue ink on the paper. Sydney did that too sometimes.

She would repeatedly press the cap as she pondered over that little notebook. He always took notice of that when it happens, even from his office, because she did everything with precise intention. Her writing had a decisive rhythm; hurried, but it knew its destination. Never one to waste time. That was Syd. So those few minutes of her just… idly playing with the cap would make him pause and listen (Never look because that was weird).

Carmy often wondered what she was thinking about.

Eventually, the clicking would be a steady white noise among the rattling of pots and pans. If he actually stills himself, mutes everything else in a way that he could only do when he’s cooking, he could hear her humming. Just a faint sound trickling through the grooves and corners of the kitchen. Carmy would then resume bookkeeping, feeling lighter about the world. He connected the dashes on the paper with uneven lines. Carmy never looked but he could see .

Her brows scrunched together when she was deep in thought. Her lips slanted down in a pout. Trout scarf wrapped around her hair.

It never occurred to him that the last time he’d drawn was in high school.

He only looked at what he’d done– Sydney leaning against the countertop– and thought:

I gotta do more .

Sydney had a number of scarves, so it only made sense that he did everything, didn’t he? Besides, it was a puzzle to him every morning what her criteria was for picking and choosing, because of course Sydney would have one. The one with the rays and orange leaves, he decided, is when she wakes up feeling giddy. Probably has an idea she wants to pitch.

She came to work once in that, beaming. Her smile reached her cheeks. The sun was in her hair. She snorted loudly when she laughed.

Carmy etched her head with lines that reached to the sky, like a halo. He felt good looking at it.

Then, he decided to draw some more, even the ones that he knew would make him feel worse. It felt like disrespect to only put to paper the ones that made him feel good, because Carmy had made her feel bad too. More than she deserved. He had shot her down about the short rib and risotto, without the same grace that she’d decided to give him when he made mistakes. Syd wore that same orange scarf that day.

Her eyes flinched. The light of promise died in there, darkening them. Her braids fell to her shoulders as they sank to Carmy’s rejection.

Cross hatches made shadows around her face; although having finished it, Carmy found that he didn’t feel as shitty as he thought he would. Only, oddly determined, like he was telling himself, I gotta do more. I gotta do more. I gotta see her again.

The blue scarf was for when she’s determined enough to knock down walls. Her gaze was sharp, straight ahead on the prize. Carmy drew that one in the middle of the paper.

Fatigue knocked him down after the fifth…or was it the sixth? (It was the tenth.) (The side profile of her face, earrings dangling like stars.) When he woke up, it was already 11:30 AM. He was on the floor with his slacked fingers keeping the pen from rolling to the floor.

The cookbook was open.

Different faces of the same woman were sketched on one sheet of paper, and some more on the spaces between the pages.

—

The next time Carmy tells himself that he won’t draw again will be after Claire.

He will lie again.

The next time, however, Carmy will remember when he does it, and why.

#sydney x carmy #carmen x sydney #syd x carmy #sydney adamu #carmy berzatto #Carmen Berzatto

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aggro-crap · 2 years ago

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Every thought I’ve had while watching Glass Onion again

I have a million thoughts about Glass Onion and I need to get it off my chest!

First of all, I really need the people calling Blanc’s accent “bad” to just stop. He is from Louisiana...his name is fucking Benoit Blanc for fucks sake! That’s a Louisiana/Cajun accent. For those who don’t know, “southern” isn’t a singular accent the same way “european” doesn’t describe any specific accent. It’s a generalization. Every southern state has slightly different accents and cadences that define each region.

SPOILERS PAST THIS POINT

So Miles Bron is obviously a clear depiction of Elon Musk, we see details hinting to other billionaires as well through wardrobe and props. The very first scene shows Claire getting her box from Miles delivered by an Alpha Courier van...Amazon Prime anyone? Even his clothes throughout remind me of billionaires like Musk and Steve Jobs.

Duke’s mom calling him dookie cause he’s a piece of shit. And then casually solving the “genius” puzzles from across the room, she’s a treasure.

Yo-Yo Ma giving us a little lesson in classical music. This entire movie is a name drop.

Blanc in the bathtub on a zoom with Natasha Lyonne, Stephen Sondheim, Angela Lansbury, and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. How the hell do they know each other? Did he solve cases for them? Does he know them through Phillip? And the hesitant denial when Phillip asks if he’s in the bath again is pure domestic excellence, that is his home now.

As someone who worked retail throughout the pandemic, I had a visceral reaction to Birdie’s sparkly mesh “mask” (and then she has the audacity to say she can finally breathe again when she doesn’t have to wear it at the pool!?). With each mask and the way they’re wearing them (or not wearing them) we know exactly what kind of person each one of them is. Though I can’t quite figure out why Andi isn’t wearing one, either to facilitate the scene with that dramatic reveal or does Helen make the conscious decision to not wear it because Andi wouldn’t have worn it? Also high tech snap bracelets? Sure I guess.

Approaching the island Lionel asks if the dock is a Bansky, and the captain says “piece of shit” and just lets him believe that’s the name of the island in greek. That shit is so funny. But also, wouldn’t having a glass dock be totally slippery and dangerous? Like I can just imagine his contractors telling him its dangerous and not advisable to have it set at low tide and him just being like I know more than you just do it my way!

The way Duke pimped out Whiskey to try to get Miles to do what he wants just kinda breaks my heart. It shows that he knows she’s smart and capable but the uncontrollable hurt on his face when he sees them hug is gut wrenching. I cannot believe I feel bad for this dude, Rian Johnson you are masterful.

The look on Miles’ face when he sees Andi arrive on the island and then when he sees her again after he shoots her is fucking priceless. It’s very ‘why won’t this bitch die?’ Either she chose not to tell him she had a twin sister or this is just another example of his stupidity.

Derol. Just Derol. I saw someone else on here mention that he’s a personification of covid and it blew my mind. He’s always drinking Corona and saying ignore me I’m not here? Fucking genius. He almost accentuates the absurdity that is Miles Bron when he’s giving his little introduction speech and Derol walks through followed by the robot with everyone’s bags. I cackled!

Also I’ve never heard the term “flat tire” for an untied shoelace before and I will absolutely be using that from now on!

The hourly dong? Assigning rooms by chakra? His little bracelets and shit? Its screaming fake namaste bullshit.

Benoit is such a shady bitch for referring to the box as children’s puzzles having not really seen any of the puzzles because Helen smashed it. Easily one of my favorite moments in the whole movie.

Jared Leto’s hard kombucha...

I’ve never met a person with a serious allergy, let alone deadly, that does not carry an epipen for emergencies, like wtf Duke? But that fancy lil gun you got there never leaves your side cause you never know what’s gonna happen right?

When Blanc tells Birdie “It’s a dangerous thing to mistake speaking without thought for speaking the truth” and her only takeaway is “Are you calling me dangerous?” Like girl if he is then he’s calling you dangerously stupid! Which is absolutely the truth.

Miles handing Peg a red solo cup is sending me through the roof. That motherfucker had to go out of his way to get that for her! There’s plenty of glassware in that room and he just had to give her a fucking plastic cup like she’s not worthy of anything more. I could’ve killed him right there for that tbh.

The entire concept of Miles buying the Mona Lisa just because he can, and then installing his own override of the security built to preserve the most famous painting in the world which then becomes the reason it gets destroyed reminds me of Kim Kardashian ruining Marilyn Monroe’s dress for a fucking red carpet. She did it because she wanted to be associated with her, not out of love or respect for the actual piece of art. Don’t get me started about altering Michael Jackson’s clothes so her child can wear them. I’m not sure of the timeline but I think that was also something that happened after the movie was already done so I’m starting to wonder if Rian Johnson has some of that Simpsons prediction mojo.

I love how excited Blanc gets to reveal the mystery. Every time he is downright giddy, at least until he realizes how dumb Miles is which infuriates him because he hates dumb games.

Honestly building a literal glass onion on your own island because you miss you favorite bar where you met your friends and want to relive the glory days is one of the saddest and most pathetic billionaire antics I’ve ever seen.

Why did Claire’s husband call her and she ignored it? Is that the moment he got the news about Andi’s death? But Duke doesn’t get the notification until after she leaves the room.

I like how we’re constantly reminded of the Mona Lisa’s presence with the security door shutting in response to what’s happening in the room. It almost feels like an additional character.

I just love how the second act starts at exactly the halfway point. It really satisfies my brain having so much time to go back and dig through all those glass layers.

Who’s out here thinking that Phillip is a professional baker with all that flour on his face?! That man is just doing his best in a pandemic with a partner that lives in a bathtub.

Janelle Monet is so fucking talented it hurts

I don’t like the way Birdie shouted at Andi on the boat that she shouldn’t be there. Like wtf. But I love when Birdie shows Peg the email and she immediately knows that Birdie didn’t actually mean any harm she is just so dumb she really thought sweatshops are just a place where they make sweatpants. Peg is a real one.

That little notebook stopped a whole bullet wtf?

Omg why can I feel that drop of hot sauce running down my face

I really hope that after this at least some people start seeing through the lies and misdirection used by these billionaire con artists and politicians but I fear I may be asking too much of the general public. That’s why ben shapiro went on his little twitter tantrum about terrible writing or whatever. Like bro if you’re not smart enough to understand symbolism in cinema, especially when it’s literally spelled out for you step by step in this particular instance, then there’s this little thing called not saying anything at all. He just doesn’t want to be exposed for what he and others like him are actually doing. ~~misdirection~~

I’m sorry but if it were me I would’ve put that napkin in my pocket or something not just held it out for him.

Benoit Blanc really just gave Helen the tools to take that fucker down and just waited at the beach with Derol to watch it all burn. And finally smoke his cigar I’m so happy for him.

If there’s one thing I respect about Birdie its the respect she has for these pieces of history being destroyed, even when Miles drops Paul Mccartney’s guitar on the beach she’s like so concerned and I feel that.

My take away from this is that I am already so excited for Knives Out 3, I could watch an infinite amount of these movies.

#glass onion #if you read this whole thing im sorry lol #yes i did get stoned and watch for the 4th time to type this up #my brain feels better now

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olicitymckono · 2 years ago

Text

This will be the last part of my nameless story. Any suggestions on a name would help so much. I hope you enjoy the story and I have a few other ideas for both Charles and Max stories. Please let me know if I should post more, your feedback would be amazing.

Thanks so much for the likes and follows 😊

Part 3

4 YEARS LATER:

Half an hour, that’s how long it was before they landed in Monaco. Y/n had mixed feelings of excitement and nausea as she was finally returning home for good. It had been 4 long exciting years and it wasn’t like she hadn't been home for short holidays, but this was it. She had received an offer just a few weeks ago from Red bull to come and work as their media liaison/photographer and she had jumped at the chance. She knew she was going to run into Charles at some point but after everything she was not going to let it stop her. She hadn't seen or spoken to him since that night 4 years ago, not for her lack of effort. On the day she left home, he didn’t show up or even call her to say goodbye. For over a year she had tried calling and messaging him every day, particularly on race days to wish him good luck and she had made sure to be there every year for the races at both Monaco and Silverstone. But he never replied to any message, he would read them but that was it. She hadn't even been able to see him when they were at the same racetrack. And he had to have known she was there because she had met up with some of her old friends like Max and Pierre. But after a while she stopped trying.

“Babe?”

She turned to her boyfriend of 3 years and saw the concern on his face. “Yeah?”

He took her hand, “You, ok?”

After moving to London y/n had become close friends with an elderly lady Alison who happened to walk her dog on the same route as Y/n went running, something she had started doing as a way to release stress. After 6 months, when Alison failed to show up one day for neither their morning or evening run, Y/n had gotten worried and went over to Alison’s house. Her concern had increased when she heard Ruby the chocolate lab barking but no one answered the door. After requesting a wellness check on her friend, she had met Eddie one of the policemen who showed up. Turns out Alison had rushed off to some family emergency and she was totally okay, but it struck up a friendship between her and the young brunette Brit. Three months later they became more than friends and she was happy.

“I’m good. Excited actually, I missed Monaco.”

He grinned, “I’m really excited myself.”

She smiled, “I can't wait to show you all my favourite places.”

He leaned over and kissed her just as the sign came on to fasten their seatbelts. This was it.... she was home.

The first few days had been extremely time consuming as they settled into their apartment and y/n running around to meetings with the people at Red bull. But today they could both finally just enjoy being together before heading over to her mother’s house for dinner. “What time did your mom say?”

“7pm.” she responded from the kitchen where she was currently finishing off the dessert.

He came in and stood next to her before trying to take a swipe at the cheesecake. She gently smacks his hand, “Aww.”

“Poor baby,” she pulled a tongue.

He chuckled. “Well babe, we need to go if we want to get there by 7.”

“Ok.”

“Mamma,” she threw her arms around her mother and hugged her tightly.

“Ma fille Cherie!”

Y/n looked at her mother, “You look fantastic.”

“You are too sweet my fille. Hi Eddie.” she hugged the young man who had taken care of her daughter.” He kissed her cheeks in greeting. “Claire and the boys are outside.”

He winked at Y/n before heading out to the back. Y/n was slightly confused though which Sylvie quickly picked up on. “You’ll see.”

“Mamma?” she asked.

“Come on.”

She led her daughter outside onto the patio where Lorenzo, Arthur, Claire and Pascale where sitting. Seeing her friends made her grin brightly. Arthur was the first to his feet and dragged her into a rib crushing hug. “I am so glad you’re home.”

“Can’t breathe,” she gasped.

“Sorry.” he smiled sheepishly while letting her go so that his brother and mother could have their chance.

“Mamma didn’t tell me you were all going to be here.”

“Well, mamma thought she would surprise you,” Claire said from her seat. Y/n wasn’t surprised that she didn’t hug her. But what did was the way her sister was looking at her boyfriend. Eddie thankfully was oblivious to it as he just stared at Y/n.

“It's the best.” Y/n hugged her mother again.

The doorbell rang, “Our last guest is here.” Sylvie clapped her hands together and left to answer it.

Y/n looked at Arthur, but he simply shrugged his shoulders in response. “Let’s get you a drink.”

A few minutes later Sylvie walked back out and was accompanied by none other than Charles. When Y/n saw him, she felt her mouth go dry and her heart jump.

He scanned the room before locking eyes with her. She had gotten more beautiful since he last saw her.

“Charles!” Claire broke the spell between the two and hugged him causing Y/n to walk away towards Eddie who wrapped an arm around her waist.

Charles noticed and felt jealous, but he wasn’t going to cause trouble. He needed to make amends with her.

A couple hours later Y/n was standing alone outside as everyone else was enjoying a nightcap. She felt his presence before he even said a word. He stood next to her with his back towards the balcony. “Hi.” he whispered gently.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looked up at him and she could see the sincerity in his eyes and nodded before looking back at the view.

“Can I have a hug?” he asked.

She took a second before stepping back and moving closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. Putting his face in the crook her neck she shivered as he spoke. “God, I missed you.”

She forced herself to move away. When he looked at her, he could see anger in her eyes. “You missed me?” she asked voice low.

“Yes.”

“So why didn’t you call? Message me back? Speak to me or see me when we were in the same country?”

“Y/n,”

She put up a hand to stop him. “Charles I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner about leaving. But I tried to make amends and you ignored me.”

“I was in a bad space Y/n.’ he sighed. “I fucked up, I know but I need you to know how sorry I am.”

“I know you are. But that doesn’t mean you get a free pass.”

“I’m not asking for one. What I'm asking for is a chance to make it right. Please?”

The broken sound of his voice when he said please almost cause the entire wall she had built up to crumble. She looked back at him and nodded.

It was almost like no time had passed between the friends and soon they were almost back to normal. Almost. Charles knew it was going to take time for her to fully forgive him and he was determined to fix it. Hell, he would even deal with Eddie if it made her happy. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy, but she was HIS girl. The longer the races went on the more time he got to spend with her, and it made his heart leap. Everyone noticed how when she was around, he laughed and smiled more. Carlos and Max loved taking the micky out of him even going so far that he had to remind them that she had a boyfriend.

A fact she had to remind herself of lately it seemed. The more time she spent with Charles brought up old feelings, feelings she didn’t believe actually went away. She tried to tell herself that she was just happy that she had her friend back but every time he touched her, she felt herself get weak. Not to mention the feelings she got between her legs. She forced herself to focus on her relationship with Eddie, but he seemed to change. He would get extremely jealous and possessive whenever Charles was around or even when his name was mentioned. He would start an argument every chance he got. And today was no different. It was Saturday and she had to be at the Qualifying for the Baku race, and he didn’t want her to. “I get that you have to be at every race but why do you have to be there for the whole weekend?”

“We talked about this, it's my job.”

“Sure.”

She was frustrated and annoyed with him. “You knew this was how it was going to be Eddie when you decided to quit the force and come with me.”

“What I didn’t sign up for was all the time you would be spending with him.” She knew who the “him” was but choose to ignore it. “He’s not even on the team you work for.”

“Yes, but he is friends with Max and Checo.” She snapped. “He is going to be there.”

“Bet you love that.”

“Enough Eddie. I’m not going to justify having to do my job.” He chuckled sarcastically. “I’m not having this fight with you AGAIN. I have to go.” She grabbed her camera bag and keys. He grabbed her arm as she passed and held on tighter than necessary. “Just make sure your “job” doesn’t involve his bed.”

Y/n yanked her arm back and slapped him. “I am not you!”

He stepped back and placed a hand on his face where she had made contact. He had the decency to look ashamed. “Y/n, baby...”

She shook her head and left.

Charles had a spring in his step. He had just nailed qualifying scoring Pole Position and he had a good feeling about tomorrow. He was just exiting the Ferrari garage and was on his way to his car when he spotted Y/n in the Red bull garage. She was sitting against some locker's legs crossed with her laptop on her lap She had her earphones in and seemed to be absorb in what she was doing. “Hey stranger.”

She looked up from her screen and smiled weakly at him. “Hi.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked coming to sit beside her.

She took the earphones out and closed her laptop. “Nothing, I’m ok.”

“Wanna try that again?” he nudged her with a shoulder.

“Nothing I feel like talking about.”

He knew something was wrong and he hates the defeated look she had. He stood up and put out his hand. She gave him a look which caused him to chuckle. “Come on, I don’t bite. Not unless u want me too.” He wiggled his eyebrows and gave her a wink.

She shook her head with a smile, it wasn’t a full one, but it was his way on to get her to open up.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“I should,” she replied realising she had eaten breakfast that morning.

He took her, “So let’s go. I’m buying.”

He took her to one of the little cafes situated on the marine. He knew she would like it here as it had a magnificent view of the sunset. After ordering their food and drinks Charles sat back and just took in the view in front of him. He had always found her beautiful and had often thought about telling her. When she looked at him, he couldn’t hide his smile. “What?” she asked brushing a stray hair out her face.

“Just admiring the view.” He remarked making sure she knew it was her he was talking about.

She blushed.

“Mon Cheri, talk to me.”

She sighed. “Eddie and I had a fight.”

Oh. “About what?”

“Nothing, everything. I just feel like he resents me.”

“For what?”

“Leaving London and the force.” A waiter appeared with their drinks, and both thanked him before Charles asked her to continue. “When I got the offer from Christian to come work for Red bull, I told Eddie that it was going to chaotic at times. Travelling all the time and most weekends I would be working. He was okay with it. I gave him an out, but he wanted to be with me he said.”

“And now?” She started to bite her lip, something she started doing when she got frustrated or nervous. “Y/n,” he gentles said touching her hand.

“He hates that I’m spending some much time at the track and that it involves spending time with you guys.”

“Oh, he’s jealous.”

She rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t have anything to be jealous of. I mean sure if Max where to sweep me off my feet, then maybe,” she shrugged jokingly.

“And me?” he asked.

She gulped pulling her hand away from him. “You did great today.” She changed the subject.

They talked about the upcoming race well enjoying their food. But as they were making their way done the marine back to his car. He revisited the topic. “You never answered me.”

“About?”

He gave her a pointed look. “You know.”

“It's late, I have to go.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him till they were face to face. She gulped at the closeness as well as the fact that he was holding her close, so close that she could feel his breath against her skin. “Charles,” she whispered.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. It was the lightest of touches, but it set her body alit. She should not be enjoying it this much. She had a boyfriend for goodness' sake. As he deepened the kiss, she felt herself responding. She felt his hand touch her bare skin as her shirt rode up and she gasped at the contact allowing him to slip his tongue inside. Her phone began to ring forcing them to pull about. He looked at her flushed cheeks and ran his thumb across her swollen lips as she tried to get her phone out of her bag. She looked down at the caller ID, Eddie. She stepped back from him forcing him to release his hold on her and she answered.

“Hi.”

“Where are u?” he heard Eddie ask.

“Work took a little longer. But I should be home soon.”

“You want me to come pick u up?”

“I have an Uber.”

“Baby I’m sorry.” He spoke.

Y/n looked back at Charles noticing he hadn’t stopped looking at her. “It's fine. Can talk about it later. I have to go, Uber is here.”

“Ok I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“Me too,” she replied before ending the call.

Charles stepped closer to her, but she mirrored his steps backwards. Shaking her head, “I have to go.”

“Y/n,” he started but she shook her head and left

The next morning, she woke up to the small of cooking and tiredly climbed out of bed. She hadn't gotten much sleep the night before as her mind was swimming with the thought if the kiss. It had been so much better than she had dreamt about and even though she so desperately wanted to relive it she knew she couldn’t. The man she loved was just a room away and she need to get things with Eddie back on track. She made her way to the kitchen to find said man standing at the stove. She walked up behind him and wrapped her hands around his waist. He placed the spatula he was holding down and turned around keeping her hands firmly around his waist. He gave her a long kiss, which unwillingly she knew tasted different to Charles’.

“Morning.”

“Hi. What are you making?” she asked.

“Pancakes.” he smiled.

“I love pancakes.”

“I know. Babe I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have said those things.”

“I’m sorry I brought up Ashley.”

He sighed, “I deserved it. But I want to make it all up to you.” He released her and handed her the spatula. “Can you finish up the last bit? I need to get something from the room.” She nodded.

She had just finished the last of the batter and turned off the gas when he entered the room.

“Y/n?”

She turned around and her stomach dropped. Eddie had gotten down on one knee and had a diamond ring in his hand. “Y/n Russo I have loved you since the first moment I saw you and I know that lately things haven't been so great, but I know that I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Later that day

“You cannot marry him. Not until you talk to Charles.” Y/n was standing in the Red bull Garage away from prying ears talking to Max. She had tried to get through to Arthur, but he was currently on a plane to Barcelona. Max was the next best person to talk to give the fact she most definitely was avoiding Charles. He had seen her and tried to talk to her, but she was able to avoid him.

“What is that going to help?”

“Y/n you and I both know that you are in love with him. Have been since we were kids. Not to mention that he is in love with you too.”

She furiously shook her head. “No, he is not. He just doesn't want me to be with someone and that’s the only reason he kissed me.”

“Sure. Listen Y/n I have to get ready for the race but trust me. Talk to him before you sign your life away to Eddie. I know you and Charles belong together.” he gently kissed her cheek as she wished him good luck and went over to his race partner.

She took a deep breath before deciding what the hell and made her way over to the Ferrari garage. She asked one of the mechanics were to find him before heading towards the driver's room. She stopped as she reaches the slightly open door and felt her heart break. Charles was there with Charlotte and the girl had her arms wrapped around his waist. Y/n turned away just as Charlotte lend up for a kiss.

The race flew by with Max winning the Grand Prix by just seconds as Charles finished 2nd follow up by Lando in 3rd. She made sure to do her job and expertly avoided both Charles and Max who tried to make eye contact with her. Charles sent her a smile, but she continued to focus on her task at hand. Max was however able to catch up with her at the paddock. “Something happened.”

“Yes, I took your advice.” she snapped.

He raised his eyebrows at her tone. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry. I went to talk to him.”

“And?”

“And nothing. He was making out with Charlotte so there wasn’t any need to talk to him.”

Max swore in Dutch under his breath. “There must be some sort of explanation.”

“Yep, as I said he doesn't have feelings for. He clearly still loves her, and the kiss last night was just him wanting something someone else has.”

“We’ll talk to him at the party.”

“I'm not going.” she replied.

“You have to be there. Kelly is coming and she is desperate to see you.

“I’ll call her and make lunch plans.”

“Schat, don’t let him pull you away from us.” he was practically begging. “You have to come help me celebrate.”

She scratched her forehead, “Celebrating your wins is every week celebration you know.”

He pouted, “But you’re my good luck charm.”

“Fine.”

He picked her up and span her around. “Thank you Schat.”

She managed to enjoy the party for a few hours before she saw him. He looked so handsome and when he locked eyes with her, she wanted to melt. She could see he was trying to make his way towards her, but several fan girls kept stopping him to take photos or get his autograph. She looked around her and got up grabbing Lando’s hand. “Dance with me,” she said.

“Absolutely,” he grinned getting up.

As the two hit the floor the Monégasque finally reached the table. “Where is she?” he asked.

Max answered with a nod towards the dance floor but stopped his friend before he could make a beeline towards to two dancers. “What is it you want from her?”

Charles looked back at him. “Just her.” he quickly walked over to the floor and interrupted their dance. “Lando, do you mind?” he asked trying to keep his annoyance at bay.

Y/n tried to beg Lando to stay with her eyes, but the young Brit knew better than to stand in his friend's way and he also knew Charles was in love with her. “No problem. She’s all yours.”

Y/n glared at him as he left her with Charles who took her hands in his pulling her closer. “Youve been avoiding me Mon Cheri.”

“Been busy.”

“Look me in the eyes and say that.” She couldn’t. “Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“So why are you trying to run away from me?”

“He asked me to marry him.”

He nodded. “Let's go somewhere less noisy.” He led her to a staircase that ended on the roof top. He could see her shivering and he wasn't sure if it was from cold or been alone with him. He took off his jacket and put it around her. “Did you say yes”

She sat down in one of the deck chairs before shaking her head, “But I didn't say no either.”

He sat down next to her knees touching and she stared down at the spot. “Why?”

“Because I’m in love with you.” she gulped feeling tears in her eyes.

He put a hand on her knee and the contact on her bare skin made her tingle and feel calm at once.

“Is that a bad thing?” he asked.

She looked up, “I have tried so hard for so long to get over this, to get over my feelings for you.”

He lifted his other hand and brushed the tears off her face. “Why don’t you want to love me?”

“You were always with someone else. You would never see me as anything other than a friend,”

“That’s not true. It's always been you Mon Cheri.”

She shook her head. “I heard you.” he cocked his head questioningly. “Just before my 16th birthday. I heard you and Claire talking.”

He shook his head. “Youre gonna have to be more specific.”

“You mentioned my annoying little crush on you before you made out with my sister.”

“Oh!” he laughed slightly. “Okay first off I didn’t make out with Claire, she kissed me, quite aggressively I might add and two...” he ran a finger down her chin, “Did you hear a name of the girl we were talking about?” she shook her head. He nodded, “You remember Abigail Martin?”

“Sure, I guess. She was Claire’s friend.”

“Psycho is what she was. She used to stalk me. Actually, dodged a bullet there when she turned her attentions to Dean Thomas.”

“What?”

“Cheri, I have always thought of you being more than just my friend. You’ve always been my girl it just took me losing you to release that I am in love with you. And I let my damn ego get in the way. Not to mention the fact that I wanted the best for you.”

“How was any if this the best for me?”

“Like you said this life can be chaotic. I wanted you to fulfil your dreams. To have a life.”

“And what if I wanted you?”

“I didn’t make all the right the choices. But I want to make the right choice. Don’t marry him. Be with me.” he asked supping her face between his hands.

“What about Charlotte?”

“What about her?” he asked.

“I saw you before the race. You kissed her.”

He shook his head, “Cheri no. She was at the race and yes, she wanted to get back together and tried to kiss me, but I don’t want to be with her. I want only you.”

“This isn't really.”

He kissed her before placing his forehead against hers. “Did that feel real?”

She closed her eyes, “Yes.”

“Do you remember what presents you got when you turned 21?”

“Why?”

“Humour me.”

“21 Orchids.”

“Red to be exact.” he smiled as she moved away slightly and stared at him.

“How? Was that from you?” she asked in surprise. He nodded. “But Orchids are...”

“Your favourite.”

“Yes.”

He smiled. “Your favourite movie is the Mummy, you like chocolate but only white. You prefer cheesecake over any other dessert. You like to travel but would choose to visit places that have historical meaning then go to the usual tourist attractions.”

“What?” she began but he placed a finger against her lips.

“When you don’t feel well you get quiet. A week before your period you start feeling nauseous and don’t want to eat only drink lots of orange juice. When it comes you like to snuggle up and watch comedies while eating strawberries and dragon fruit. But no Mangos as your......”

“Allergic.”

“And you love reading. Mostly thrillers but on the odd occasion a sappy romance novel. Which you always seem to find unrealistic. When your happy your eyes light up the brightest shade of green but when your sad the go dark green. And you have the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen, something I want to make sure you do every day.”

She didn’t say a word, only kissed him. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap. Only when air become a necessity did they pull apart. “How do you know all of that? Not even Arthur knows all of it. Especially the flowers. Everyone thinks I love sunflowers.”

“I paid attention, especially when it was about you. You always drew sunflowers, but I remember once when you were about 8/9 my dad took us to the nursery to get something for Mother's Day and I saw how you were in awe of the Orchids.”

“I love how beautiful and unique they are.”

“Just like you. One of a kind. I love you, always have.”

She put her head on his shoulder as he held her close. “What now?”

“Tell him no, then come home to me.”

“I like the sound of that.” she said kissing him again,

“Oh, one other thing.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“At the next race youre wearing red, I want everyone to know your all mine.”

#charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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