#accidentally zoomed the camera into their brain and then took a long rest and it got stuck like that forever RIP og draa'rok

[astralprisms]

@warmhealerr answering your reply here so I can add images because I broke their first honor mode run for these - but thank you 😊!

And obligatory CC screenshots for visibility:

[thestraggletag]

Virtual Session, A Rumbelle Zoom Fic

Rating: Explicit.

Summary: Town meetings were usually drab, boring events, and having them over Zoom hadn't improved them much. Or so Mr Gold thought, until he forgot to log out of the meeting after it ended, only to discover a half-naked Belle French had also forgotten to do so.

SOMEONE PLEASE COMMENT WITH A BETTER SUMMARY I HATE IT.

Based on this prompt.

“We will review your presentation and hold a virtual vote before the month is up, Miss French. Thank you very much for your time.”

The mayor adjusted her suit jacket, her shirt riding up as she did so and unknowingly displaying the telltale white check of her Adidas yoga pants. Royce snickered, taking advantage of the fact he was muted.

“As there are no other pending topics on today’s agenda this virtual session is adjourned.”

He half-expected her to produce a gable out of thin air and bang it against her marble countertop. All around him people began to say their goodbyes and log out of Zoom, lest Regina decide to spring a surprise motion at the last minute. There was no need to flee, however, as Regina herself was one of the first to log off. Given the amount of smoke he had spotted coming from behind her right before she exited he did not need to guess what had caused her sudden departure.

“I guess no apple turnover for dessert at Madame Mayor’s.”

He heard an adorable chuckle and did not need to glance at the screen again to guess who it was. Very few people found his brand of dark humour palatable, but the librarian seemed to love it. It was nice, he soon found out, to have someone appreciate his often ill-received quips. It was one of the things he had first noticed about her. Well, other than her stunning eyes. And perhaps her hair, which was a lovely shade of reddish-brown. Her legs too, he acknowledged reluctantly, so nicely-displayed by her short skirts and high heels. And her-

He stopped himself. That way lay madness and he knew it. It was one thing to admire in an unattached way, from a distance. He was a connoisseur of beautiful things, after all, and Belle French was certainly beautiful. Unfortunately she also happened to have a lovely personality. Kind, generous, open, but also bold, defiant and the littlest bit dark. She flaunted the rules of smalltown society by wearing what the matrons around town considered “inappropriate clothing” for a librarian, and speaking to anyone and everyone, including those that polite society would urge her to shun. Drank beer with the miners, for example, men deemed “too coarse” for genteel women, and stocked the library with altogether undesirable books, be it because they dealt with unseemly issues or because they were from traditional authors. Which, he was sure, was code for “white men”, even if Mother Superior never quite spelled it out in such terms.

She was altogether dangerous for him, with her mix of light and dark, so he was always on his guard, lest his thoughts veer too far into dangerous territory. He didn’t fear scorn or derision if his feelings became too obvious for her to ignore. Belle was altogether too kind for that. But to be gently yet firmly rebuffed, and have their subsequent interactions laced by the barest hint of pity from her, would be unbearable. 

“I’m pretty sure that at least Mr Spencer didn’t hear a word I said. His camera was off during the whole of my presentation.” The librarian huffed, clearly bothered that her proposal to increase the library’s budget to repair the East Wing’s leaky ceiling wouldn’t get a fair shot. The wing was currently closed, and had been since she had taken the post of librarian, but with the newfound need of social-distancing, particularly in enclosed spaces, she hoped she could change that, make the town council see the need for more space in the library. “Though perhaps he didn’t want to be yelled at again for not being in a three-piece suit for a virtual town meeting.”

He briefly paused to remember Spencer’s red face when Regina had chastised him for wearing a white polo shirt instead of a shirt and tie during the last meeting.

“Kinda hypocritical of Madame Mayor, given she was a couple of clothing articles shy of a full tracksuit tonight.”

They shared a conspiratorial laugh, and he hoped the camera somehow toned down the stupid look on his face. He tried to avoid direct eye contact, looking instead mildly-interested in her living-room. Her laptop seemed to be perched somewhere on her dining-room table, giving him a great view of the rest of her flat, which was a loft, so it was open space, with exposed brick and tall ceilings. Though small it was tastefully-decorated, and with enough bookcases to make it seem like it was a part of the library he had never been to, if it weren’t for the kitchen area and the- and he told himself to stop looking at it- queen-size bed.

“Well, Miss French, at the risk of getting ahead of myself I can confidently state that things are looking good for your project. It was an excellent presentation and I could see Midas and Hopper were clearly in favour. That leaves the Mayor and Spencer outnumbered. Hell, I think even Regina will vote yes on this one. I know she’s keen on finding a place for students with connectivity issues to go do their homework and attend some classes. Fingers crossed the voting goes your way.”

He smiled at her, trying to look reassuring instead of besotted, and they exchanged their goodbyes. He closed his laptop, deciding that he needed a stiff drink first and a cold shower later, and went over to his wet bar, where after some debate he picked up a bottle of Ardberg and poured himself three fingers of Scotch, opting to forgo the ice and drink it straight. The alcohol burned pleasantly on its way down, making him loosen up almost immediately. He went over to the window, undoing the buttons of his vest and slipping it off as he did, feeling warmed by the whiskey. He chanced a glance outside, where the night remained crisp and clear, thankfully devoid of snow. It was still bitterly cold, though, and he hoped the library’s heating system, which was in need of maintenance as well, would not fail. The money for its maintenance had already been allocated and the budget for the work set, but perhaps he could email the person in charge of the job and… persuade them to make it a priority. The work should’ve already been done, but the pandemic had put a temporary stop on jobs like that with the exception of emergencies. Now that things were slowly returning to normal he was confident he could get the people working on the library by the end of the week with three sentences or less.

He went back to his laptop, determined to send the email as soon as possible. He opened it up and noticed, at first, that his camera light was still on. Almost as soon as his brain connected the dots and realised that he had forgotten to log off Zoom he noticed something else: so had Belle French. She was walking around her house, seemingly tidying things up and humming as she went along. It was a lovely, domestic little display, and though he knew he needed to log off fucking Zoom and stop intruding on what Miss French clearly thought was the privacy of her own home, he didn’t move the mouse. Surely there was no harm in indulging a bit. He was a lonely man, partly by design and partly by circumstance, and though he often told himself he wasn’t missing out on anything, he had to admit it was nice to- albeit accidentally- share an intimate moment with someone he had an affinity with. He imagined, for a moment, that instead of her living-room he was seeing her in his, picking up discarded books or perhaps the remnants of a tea they had shared together. He quickly shook himself out of that fantasy, alarm bells ringing in his mind, and refocused in the present, where Belle was taking off her cardigan. Well, surely, that meant the heating system was holding, which was a good thing. Which reminded him of his idea to write-

He glanced at the monitor again, where Belle French was now shimming out of her skirt.

He blinked, idiotically-confused for a second, as if the thought of a woman undressing was news for him. After the initial shock he took in all the details, fixsting on the black stripe on the back of her sheer black stockings, which she rolled down with painstaking care, the gesture almost painfully erotic. She started on the buttons of her sheer maroon shirt, undoing them with ease and shrugging out of the garment. The black camisole she wore underneath did nothing to conceal her lacy black culotte, which hugged her perfect ass like it was made for her. She went to unpin her hair next, letting the bobby pins that kept it off her sides of her face drop into a little ceramic bowl on her vanity. He was surprised at how much seeing her walk around her house with bare feet, shaking her hair out and stretching her limbs affected him. There was nothing inherently sensual about her movements, yet he was transfixed, unable to look away. Any hope of containing his attraction or attachment to the librarian vanished into thin air at that moment, leaving him equal parts scared and turned on.

It was then that his mostly-unused sense of decency decided to let itself be known, a wave of shame washing through him at the notion of what he was doing. Miss French had every right to her privacy, and here he was, violating it in the worst possible way. He should log out immediately and stay away from the librarian for a rather long time, enough for-

“Royce?”

His heart lurched painfully in his chest at the sound of her voice. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his head towards the screen, telling himself that he deserved the scorn and disgust he was sure to see in the librarian’s face. But whatever hasty apologies and half-formed excuses he was about to blurt out died on his lips the moment he saw her: she was standing in profile, arms crossed in front of her chest and hands grasping the hem of her camisole, prepared to take it off, and her head was turned to the side, her eyes on her laptop screen. She didn’t look accusatory, or disgusted. She didn’t even look embarrassed. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shone, but it looked more like… like... 

Arousal.

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

He could hardly recognise the low, growly burr as his voice. It sounded uncouth and harsh, like the way he used to speak back in Glasgow. He had worked for years on toning down his accent, letting only the barest hint of it show when he was trying to intimidate someone. Never enough to sound too much like he did back in his youth, and yet he hadn’t managed to quite rid himself of it. 

On screen Belle lifted the hem of her camisole a few inches, exposing supple, creamy skin. Royce tried hard not to swallow his own tongue. She bit her lip, suddenly hesitant, and fuck him if that sliver of vulnerability wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. 

“Is this… Is this okay?” 

It took him an embarrassingly-long time to understand that Belle fucking French was asking him if it was alright for her to strip in front of him, presumably for their mutual enjoyment. He reminded himself that he had had only one glass of Scotch, not enough to dismiss whatever was happening as a drunken daydream. Which he might have had, from time to time. About Belle. Maybe.

“It’s perfect, sweetheart.” 

Her lips curled into a coy smile, the growl in his voice making her shiver, and in one swift motion removed her camisole, revealing a lacy black bandeau bra with delicate details done in leavers lace. It matched her knickers, he noticed idly, and the black contrasted amazingly with her pale, softly-blushed skin. His keen eye noticed the exquisite craftsmanship right away. It was an expensive set, no doubt, and given how she was wearing during a commonplace day where she planned to stay home it led him to the conclusion that Belle French simply owned a lot of fancy lingerie, to the point that she wore it as an everyday sort of garment. He was very sure he would never again be able to look at her and not think about that.

“You’re gorgeous.”

In any other situation he would’ve been embarrassed to sound so… Reverent. So incredibly not in control of the situation. He might be fully-dressed, a man of means with a position of political power in their little hamlet and she might be a half-naked small-town librarian but he was absolutely powerless at the moment. And what was worse, he enjoyed it. 

“Thank you, Mr Gold.”

Though he loved the way she said “Gold”, with enough irreverence to turn her tone teasing, he desperately wanted her to say his name.

“Call me Royce, sweetheart.”

She walked over to the table, flipped the chair and sat down, draping her arms loosely around the backrest, the position loose and cocky. There was no doubt in her now, no hesitance. She had assumed control of the situation, for which he was grateful. She tilted her head to a side, sizing him up.

“You’re wearing a lot of clothes, Royce. I feel at a disadvantage.”

She smiled, looking supremely unconcerned, but there was a glint in her eyes he recognised quite easily. Greed. And not the kind he was used to seeing in people who frequented his shop to strike one of his infamous deals. It was different. It certainly felt different to him, hit him right beneath his gut in a way that felt both uncomfortable and pleasant. Without quite thinking his fingers went to the knot of his tie, already loosened, and tugged expertly, untying it in seconds. The silk made a soft, hissing sound as it slipped off his neck, which sounded loud in the otherwise dead silence of the room. Belle followed his movements avidly from the screen, and the look of utter absorption on her face gave him the surge of bravery he needed to tackle the buttons of his shirt till he could shimmy out of it. He was wearing a white undershirt beneath, but his arms and throat were bare, making him feel ridiculously exposed. 

“You have many layers. I like that about you.” Belle dropped her gaze, looking coy and vulnerable at the same time. “I like a lot of things about you.”

“Me too.” He tried to stop himself, but it was easier said than done. “Too many things, actually. But I’ve always understood that it would be foolish to expect anything to come of that.” He looked at Belle, draped over her chair and in her underwear. “Well, perhaps I was wrong.”

Belle smiled.

“You’re finally getting it. Good boy.”

He forced himself not to react visibly to those words, even though the moment he heard them it was like being struck by lightning. Thankfully the camera caught him from the waist up, hiding the embarrassing way his cock had perked up a second earlier. He could not hide his flushed face, however, or the way his eyes glazed over the slightest bit. 

“Tell you what. I’ll take off my bra if you lose the t-shirt. It’s a fair deal.”

It wasn’t. As far as he was concerned he was getting the far better end of the deal but he would never dream of telling her that. Tipping his hand was not his style. 

“Deal.”

He said it in the pleased, soft burr he usually reserved for his less savoury business arrangements, the kind that needed to be sealed in the cloak of night in some remote, deserted location. Belle shivered, and he enjoyed the thought that his voice made her react so. Feeling bold he grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked it off,      baring himself from the waist up. He saw and felt the librarian’s eyes roam over his torso. It wasn’t a pretty sight. He had scars from his dodgy upbringing in Glasgow, and some from his learning days restoring antiques. He was fond of the sun so at least he was not pasty white, or overly hairy, but he didn’t have much in the way of muscles. Belle, however, seemed to appreciate his more lean physique, if the heat of her gaze was any indication. After she seemed to have her fill of staring she leaned back and deftly unhooked her bra, letting the straps slide down her arms till the garment was on the floor. 

He stared. Couldn’t help himself really. Belle French’s tits were perfect. Fucking perfect. Just the right size, incredibly soft-looking and with the loveliest nipples he had ever seen, a rosy-pink that he would never be able to get out of his head. The kind of breasts that would ruin a man for other women. He certainly felt like no other breasts could ever tempt him again. 

“Royce, are you okay?”

Her voice sounded a delightful mix of amused and slightly worried, so he forced himself to nod, still unable to look away.

“Fucking perfect.”

Fuck, was that his voice? He sounded… dazed. He fought the instinct to slap some sense into himself. Belle draped herself across the back of the chair again, and though the position hid her breasts somewhat it didn’t do so completely. 

“I love how soft you are. Underneath the hardass pawnbroker exterior, I mean. Soft, and kind and funny. So funny. It’s one of your most attractive qualities.”

Most people wouldn’t think so. His brand of humour was dark, sometimes too much. And yet Belle always laughed, always caught on to his quips and seemed to appreciate them in a consporatory way. She could also dish it out, but in a far more subtle way that he was sure most people didn’t catch on to. Softly-spoken sarcasm delivered in a lilting accent. 

What was not to love?

He told her so. Unburdened himself completely, caught up in his own physical vulnerability and hers. It felt safe to tell her of his feelings, of how days where he knew he would see her were brighter, and how he liked when they shared a smile or exchanged a comment on a book. How his heart fluttered when he watched her read to the children, and how another part of his anatomy altogether reacted when she strutted around town with her short skirts and devil-may-care attitude. Liked how she thumbed her nose at the pearl-clutchers in town, doing things her way. Completely unsuited for boring, conventional small-town life, and yet wholly at home in Storybrooke, to the point where he could not imagine the town without her.

He shut up after that, noticing how she seemed to have changed, her mood going from loose and flirty to… anxious? No, that wasn’t the right word. Unsettled, perhaps.

“I can’t do this.” The sudden sentence felt like a slap in the face, but the moment his face dropped she seemed to backpedal. “No, no, not like that! I mean… I wanna touch you. I want to be in the same room. With even less clothes on. This… It suddenly doesn’t feel like enough.”

She was fucking right, he realised. He felt itchy all of a sudden. Unfulfilled. Empty.

“Come over.”

“What?”

Belle seemed genuinely surprised, but the way her skin flushed and her eyes got big let him know she was very open to the idea.

“Come the fuck over. It’s fucking cold anyway and the heating system at the library is shite at the moment. Come over and I’ll keep you warm, sweetheart.”

He was rather impressed with his blunt bit of bravery, born out of a consuming need more than anything, and even more impressed when it looked like it worked. Belle scrambled out of the chair, throwing a lovely little nightie on before getting her coat and scarf. 

“Be there in a few. See you!”

She disconnected before he could tell her to bundle up. It was fucking freezing outside and that nightie and her stockings and shoes would do nothing against the cold, coat or no coat. A moment later he realised he was sitting down in his pants, socks and shoes and nothing else while Belle fucking French was coming over to... 

Fuck.

He scrambled up, fishing for his cane in a hurry and having just enough presence of mind to disconnect from Zoom. He went upstairs to his room, deciding that it would be awkward for him to still be wearing pants. And socks. And shoes. So he chucked all that off, throwing a dressing gown over his boxers, pausing to put on his house slippers, glad beyond words he had recently bought new ones. After that he went downstairs to the kitchen and popped a bottle of champagne, looking into his pantry for the box of chocolate truffles from Kreuther, a treat he had gotten himself after visiting a state sale in Midtown Manhattan a week ago. He arranged the impromptu offerings on the dining room table, and when the bell rang he told himself he was ready. He opened the door, finding a rosy-cheeked and clearly shivering Belle on the other side, hair windswept, as if she had run there. Taking into account her heels it was rather impressive.

Belatedly he thought about the scene she had walked into. He in his dressing gown, with champagne flutes and truffles on the table and a fire roaring in the living-room, a scenario ripe for debauching. But perhaps she wished to talk more, to explore their emotional intimacy. Perhaps the trek there had killed her ardour and all she wanted and needed was to get warm and comfortable. He didn’t want to come off as… expecting anything.

Belle, however, seemed to not share his concerns. She took one look at him, one look at the softly-lit space behind him and the food laid out and smiled.

“You brilliant, wonderful man.”

A second late she was in his arms. Cold, but soft and smelling of orange blossoms and frost. She tilted her head up, slanting her lips across before he could blink and it was… wonderful. The coolness of her lips contrasted with the searing heat of her mouth, making for a rather delicious contrast of sensations. He used the hand not clutching his cane for dear life to find the buttons of her coat, undoing them one by one with barely-contained impatience. Finally he had the coat opened and could snake his arm around her waist. The silk of her small camisole was soft to the touch, and let him feel the warmth of her skin beneath.

He needed to feel more. Now that she was safe in the warmth of his house she didn’t need her coat or scarves and went about the business of removing both without separating himself from her. It took a lot of tugging and pulling and a couple of missteps that landed her up against the wall, to his utter delight, but she was finally rid of both. Her skin, despite the toasty temperature inside the house, was still chilly from the outside.

“Come close to the fire, sweetheart.”

They managed to stumble across the hallway and into the living room, where they seemed to come to the mutual conclusion that remaining standing was not conducive to their current situation. The rug near the fireplace, thankfully, was thick and soft, and the couple of throw blankets he quickly spread over it made it more so. Once he was satisfied she would be comfortable he let her tackle him to the ground, enjoying having her above him. She was small, especially once she wrestled her heeled boots off. A tiny slip of a woman, shorter than him even, but there was a presence to her, a strength, that he couldn't help but surrender to. Beautiful, terrifying Belle.

“I’ve dreamed of this.” Her voice was low, husky. “You weren’t wearing a dressing gown in my dreams, though.”

“And you weren’t wearing anything in mine.” His accent was so thick he feared she might not be able to understand me. “Tit for tat, dearie.”

She ground herself against him, causing him to hiss and arc. Enough pressure to elicit a response, but not nearly enough to satisfy him.

“Don’t call me that. That’s how you call everyone else, and I’m not everyone else, am I?”

Her confidence slipped for a second, exposing a hint of uncertainty that he was quick to dispel.

“No, sweetheart. Of course not.”

He untied the belt of his dressing gown, managing to slip it off while still pinned by Belle. He didn’t imagine it was a very sexy spectacle but she seemed to appreciate it nevertheless. To reward him she yanked her nightie off, revealing her glorious breasts once again to his hungry stare. She was absolutely perfect, made even better by the way the fire lit her skin and hair, and turned her eyes a deeper blue. She looked fierce yet soft, a magnanimous mistress looking down fondly at a favoured pet. Idly she traced a scar near his right shoulder with the tip of her index finger, frowning the slightest bit.

“I want to know the story behind this. I want to know… more. About you. All there is to know that you wish to tell me.”

“Yes.” Usually he’d balk at the idea of such intimacy, of being so bare. Yet it felt like something he could do with Belle, something he wanted to do. “Yes, of course, sweetheart. And I want to know everything about you.”

She smiled, the gesture slowly turning sultry as she crossed her elbows over his chest.

“We’ll talk… later.”

She kissed him then, slowly and thoroughly, sinking one hand into his hair so she could tilt his head just so. Her fingernails felt delicious against the sensitive skin of his scalp and were a welcome distraction from the uncomfortable pressure of her ass against his groin. He wanted to last, desperately, but she was every wet dream he’d ever had come true. He needed to redirect his attention to anywhere but his aching cock. So he forced himself to focus on anything else. The soft, silky feeling of her skin against the rough pads of his fingers, and the taste of her, faintly sweet. She kissed like it was an art, managing to somehow find every spot that made him want to rip her panties off and just bury himself in her, foreplay be damned.

He startled when he felt her hands trail down his body and grasp the elastic of his underwear, tugging on it to hint at what she wanted. He obliged her before he could talk himself out of it, raising his hips so she could slide the boxers off his legs while still kissing. He felt her touch his mangled ankle and forced himself not to flinch or pull back. Blessedly she seemed to notice his discomfort, tugging his boxers off completely and reaching out to place his hands on the sides of her hips, against the scratchy fabric of her underwear. The message was clear, especially when she propped herself against the floor with her hands so she could raise her hips. He gently tugged her pantied down, with slow, careful movements to avoid accidentally ripping the delicate lace and not simply to watch in aroused amusement as Belle fidgeted above him. 

“Patience, sweetheart.”

She whined, kicking her panties off when they reached her ankles and pushing him back a second later, her expression demanding.

“No more delays. We’ve had months of foreplay.”

He found himself agreeing with her. It certainly felt like they had been teasing each other for months, with the shared jokes, the furtive glances, bitten lips and coy smiles. Not that he had even dared dream of it before that night. Belle was too good in every way for a bitter old cripple like himself. Her hands on his cock chased his self-deprecation away, leaving his mind in a blissful state of blankness. Slowly, torturously so, she took him in, her hot, wet cunt enveloping him with the right amount of pressure. It was almost too good a feeling, leaving his nerve-endings too excited to register much else. She was fucking perfect, the feel of her the weight of her above him. Like she was made for him, only he wasn’t that lucky. 

He needed to somehow make it up to her, make it so good she would not regret it. So he focused on establishing a rhythm, steady enough to build up their pleasure, but not too perfect to make it boring. He concentrated on the sounds she made, the perfect little gasps and the occasional, shivery whine that let him know she was enjoying herself. Soon enough, however, coordination and any form of higher thinking went out the window, the pleasure getting to be too much to focus on anything else other than driving himself as deep into her as he possibly could. He had enough presence of mind to sneak a hand between their bodies, slipping it across her wet fold to stimulate her further, determined not to come before she did. When he finally felt it, the blissful fluttering of her inner walls accompanied by a triumphant cry, he let go of his last shreds of self-control, letting his body seek out its needed release, the feeling travelling up his spine and leaving his whole body boneless with satisfaction. 

He grunted when she practically fell on top of him, though he welcomed the reassuring weight of her and the heat from her body. He thought about the champagne and the truffles waiting for them on the dining room table and decided they could wait. As soon as he was able to move he would wrap his dressing gown around Belle and take her and the food and drinks to the bedroom, where they could recoup their energy and talk. And perhaps much later, if he was good, Belle would let him drink champagne from her navel. 

Thank Regina and her fucking Zoom twon halls. He would never complain about them again.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

It’s The Avengers (03x05)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 05: Oh no! My Insecurities!

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline   Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: one those tropes. one of those sexy sexy tropes

Word Count: what is the science behind wanting to eat so much junk when one has money to spare? I would really like to know so that I can ask my brain how it work without it for sooooo long and then one day decided to go batchit crazy. Maybe I was eating away my insecurities. But then again, when I was anxious I lost weight like anything because I just cuold not bring myself to freaking eat! What is it body and brain?! What makes you crave that dirty dirty foood! *gollum’s voice* tell me you filthy animal!

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

Tony stood in the kitchenette in front of a mixer, adding in a variety of green vegetables present in front of him, a tune on his lips in the form of a whistle that only stopped when he crossed eyes with the camera.

“Oh, hi! Didn’t see you there! I’m just here making myself an amazing green smoothie. Good for the heart and the head.”

Tony took in a lungful and turned the mixer on with a satisfied sigh leaving him. “What a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

The camera panned out to watch Vision walking into the Lounge, a blank expression painted on his face as he tilted his head to watch Tony at work. “You seem quite chirpy today,” he stated the obvious.

“I am. I have made quite the progress in my therapy and I am beginning to feel so much lighter than I was ever before. Letting go of stuff that worries me, you know. Aah, it feels good to not care about a thing in the world.”

The camera settled on Vision’s face. He blinked and tried to furrow his brows as he had seen everyone else around him do. “So, you no longer care about Y/N?”

The mixer was turned off and the container opened to pour the contents into a glass. Tony chuckled. “Y/N will be fine. Loki is there with her. Carol will be meeting them soon enough. I don’t have to worry about much. I’ll look at the footage once I get time from my mini-vacay I’ll be taking in our backyard. You should come too.”

Vision straightened his head and nodded. “I would love to,” he acknowledged the invitation while taking his potion of the green juice offered by Stark, “and I have to say Barton’s worries were wrong about you.”

“What worries?” Tony asked, a bit disinterested, taking a sip of his smoothie.

“That you would, and I quote, ‘go apeshit when you find out that Y/N dawned the role of Dominatrix seducing Loki to help him escape the clutches of a space sex slave trafficker.”

The glass went away from his lips with one smooth movement of his arms. “Say what now?”

Vision had already drained the glass. “He was referring to the whorehouse they escaped from yesterday. Y/N has quite the talent when it comes to weakening the guards of the male of many space creatures. It is quite extraordinary to witness someone so guarded and introverted like her completely expose her-”

His words are halted by the sound of glass breaking. The camera panned out to watch wide-eyed, visibly in shock Tony looking into a void before turning to meet Vision’s gaze.

“Oh shoot. I accidentally let the glass slip from my hands. Butterfingers,” Tony lied. Like a liar. “Don’t worry, you go ahead. I’ll clean it up.”

A natural shade of worry came over Vision’s face, silently staring at the shattered glass and Tony for a few seconds before seemingly coming to terms with it. “...okay. As I was saying, Y/N has quite the talent when it comes to slowly and tenderly pulling apart, one by one, her-”

The entire batch of vegetables was pushed into the sink and the garbage disposal was turned on, drowning Vision’s words while Tony deadpan looked at the camera.

Vision: Acting skills *blinks at the camera* I was trying to tell Tony about Y/N’s acting skills.

“Tony, are you alright?” Vision asked over the crushing of a fresh carrot being shoved down the sink.

“I’m fine,” Tony stretched his lips in a smile while his eyes never let go of the horror, shoving the biggest gourd from the vegetable pile down the sink to murder it while the camera zoomed in on his disturbing expression, “everything’s fine.”

Vision’s golden pupils contracted as he looked at Tony and then up at the camera.

Vision: *sombre mood**holds a cigar in his hand**looks at a distant void* All these years saving the earth, I think Tony has forgotten the meaning of keeping things light.

*turns at the camera* Hm? Oh, no I am not smoking this. This is for adding an intense effect to the conversation *smiles* Rhodey and Sam taught me that.

 The Facility Entrance

One camera looked down from the first floor at the dark skin plump lady entering the facility with Happy, being directed towards the elevator. “Who is she?” The camera swivelled from the stranger disappearing downstairs to a curious Scott bending way more than he should over the railing to get a good look at the stranger. He would have almost tripped over if it weren’t for Rhodey grabbing his pants when he did.

“I was just checking for ants on the roof down-on the uhh ceiling there,” Scott tried to explain himself while trying to sound cool and casual- nothing like a normal human about to fall face-first on the ground floor.

“Yeah, and I was looking for a dumb chimp set free,” Rhodey mocked a laugh before gesturing him towards the lounge.

“I would consider myself more of a Panamanian white-faced Capuchin,” he muttered under his breath as he followed the man.

In the lounge, Vision stirred cream into his cup of coffee while Tony seemingly brooded in front of the flatscreen. 

The camera looked at an unaware Tony turning his head from the screen, first at Rhodey and then at the elevator when it dinged at the arrival of the woman.

Tony got up as the woman stepped foot into the lounge, taking in the place around her. “What are you doing here? We didn’t have a session today!” Tony called out with his arms open to display his surprise, his eyes bouncing in question from Happy to Rhodey.

The woman in a Mauve dress handed her coat to Happy while passing a look at the cameras around the lounge along with the company. “I was called by a concerned friend about you having an episode here this morning.”

One of the cameras panned in on Vision taking a sip of his coffee while sharing a look with it before disappearing out of the lounge through a wall as quietly as he had come.

Tony stuttered in shock, unable to get words out of his mouth. “Wh-ha-wh-I did NOT have an episode!”

The woman looked at him with a dead expression, not even blinking. “So you did not force a gourd down the garbage disposal?” she asked in a low pitch, even Scott felt a tingle of horror down his spine.

Tony paused for a second before crossing his arms across his chest. “The gourd was rotten,” he simply stated.

“For sleeping with your daughter?” came another dead snap from the lady, leaving Scott’s jaw on the floor with a muted ‘what’. And Tony’s eyes went wide with rage. “HE DID NOT SLEEP WITH MY DAUGHTER! HE SO MUCH AS TOUCHES HER WITH THE WRONG INTENTION, IT WILL BE HIM INSTEAD OF THAT GOURD IN-” Tony paused to look around the room, realising what he just did.

“Congratulations, Anthony,” the lady exclaimed with not even an ounce of sympathy in her voice, “you just played yourself. Now sit yo ass down before I have to whoop it like the time when you and James broke curfew to go party at night.”

Rhodey gasped in full offence. “Mama, why you gotta bring me in every time he does somethin’ wrong?!”

Scott gasped again, looking right at Rhodey, “She’s your mama?!” The delight on his face and in his high-pitched voice was immeasurable.

“You wanna find out, come sit on the couch next to yo brother,” she replied, pointing at the sofa while she herself took the comfy armchair and got her reading glasses and notebook out of her purse.

Rhodey stood there contemplating for a second before giving a nod. “You’re on your own, Anthony.”

Tony sat down on the couch. “Traitor,” he called out to Rhodey’s figure walking away.

Scott folded his hands in front of him and turned to Mrs Rhodes. “What can I get you, Mrs Rhodes? Tea, coffee, juice, Pina Colada?”

Mrs Rhodes smiled at Scott. “Tea would be nice, darling. Thank you.” And turned back to Tony only to be distracted by the image of you and Lulu sitting in what seemed like a parking lot of some Motel made in modern Egyptian architecture. You stroked Lulu’s hair while he purred when Loki walked out of the entrance towards you.

“We got a room. Come on,” he mentioned before walking towards a patio with you and the rest.

“Is that-” Mrs Rhodes did not say anymore as her eyes still tried to come in terms with what she was seeing.

“A live feed with eight-hour delay coming from one of the cameras they have with them. Javier’s behind the camera. He’s a sweet boy. And that dark-haired beast is Loki,” Tony grumbled under his breath, his eyes never leaving the God on the screen.

“I don’t care about him,” she announced, horrified, “what in the name of Christ is that damn thing walking around with your daughter?!”

Tony looked back at the screen, confused. “That’s Lulu. It’s some cat-like alien she adopted. It’s harmless. All it does is hoot and chirp all day.”

Mrs Rhodes’ eyes went away from the screen to a distant void to contemplate something inside her head. “You daughter. Adopted. An alien.” Turning towards Tony with those judgmental eyes of a mother, she almost sang, “Now, who does that remind me of? Honey-” she called out for Scott without taking her eyes off Tony- “might as well keep a bottle of scotch ready for me.”

 Fifteen Minutes Later

The camera was now settled outside the Lounge in the balcony with a sneaky Scott looking inside past Tony and Mrs Rhodes at the flatscreen. He was so engrossed in his OTP’s movements, he did not sense Sam walking down the stairs from the garden-cum-bar on the roof. Sam, on the other hand, looked at the man with pure judgement before settling down on the lounge seat behind the strategically set plants in front of the window. “‘Sup, stalker.”

Scott sighed. “Come up with another name, I can’t hear what they are talking about.”

“Why would you want to hear what Tony and Mrs Rhodes are talking about?”

“No! Not them! Y/N and Loki! Tony kicked me out because he’s having a therapy session. I don’t care what those two are talking about. I want to find out what is going on between those two!”

Sam shrugged. “Use their earphones man,” he pointed at Ana behind the camera, who took two wireless earpieces out of frame before handing it to them.

“...just two people staying at a motel for the night. Not to mention stuck on another planet with no one but each other to trust. Now tell me what is not to your liking here, Tony,” Mrs Rhodes’ voice echoed through the earpieces.

Tony head slumped on the headrest of the sofa as he watched the feed.

You entered the decently spacious room coloured in themes of sandy yellow with patterns of blue halfway on the walls, putting your backpack down on the table in the middle. “Wow! This looks so much more decent for a space Motel,” you appreciated.

Loki dropped the bag he was carrying, almost receiving a wince from you. “Careful! The Hardy boys said half of this stuff is to be handled with care.”

“They are shurikens, tasers and canisters of medicines. I think we’ll be fine, darling. And what is with you adding space to everything you see here?”

You swiped a finger at the window sill, impressed at it having gathered no dust at all. “What should I call it then, space buddy?”

Loki paused before letting loose the slightest smirk. “Learn the names of the places you visit. And the people you meet. And the objects you discover. You never know when it might become handy.”

Mrs Rhodes raised a brow at Tony, who was frustrated at not finding any window to point his fingers at Loki.

“Oh, I never thought about it that way,” you stated, before turning away from the windows view to a beautiful garden outside. “So, who’s taking the couch.”

Javier called dibs by jumping on the couch before anyone of you could say something, leaving you and Loki to look at each other before looking at the lone bed.

"Loki," you sang in a suspicious tone, "there is only one bed."

Both Scott and Tony felt their bodies pause everything to lean a little towards the screen.

Loki too, stood still by the foot of the bed, exactly opposite to you. "The receptionist said she can loan us an extra mattress."

You raised your head and your brows. "Did she now." Taking a casual step towards the edge of the bed you stopped you saw Loki cover the same distance as you. "You know, I have had a looong journey. And a space journey on top of that-" you let your finger run itself over the edge of the white sheet covering the mattress- "not to mention I'm a weak little human. So I should-"

"Before you finish that sentence," Loki interrupted with his raised finger, "might I remind you of the one thing that is keeping you safe in this...space. To fight monsters and horny space young adults-"

"You told me I used 'space' a lot."

"I don't care-” he breathed even before your words ended- “that thing is me. So, as a sign of your gratitude I should-”

Before he could finish the sentence, you jumped over the bed and he followed by a nearly screamed out ‘no!’ in your direction, his entirety landing over you.

There lay both of you, crossed upon each other.

“Ar-Are you seeing this?!” Tony yelled over here, flailing his hands at the flat screen, directing Mrs Rhodes’ gaze at the zero distance between your butt and his body.

“Give me this bed, Loki!!” you declared from under him, your voice almost muffled by the sheets and pillows.

“No, I am having this bed and you can fight me if you want,” Loki announced with his claws in the sheets against the movement of your butt to move him away from you and ultimately from the bed.

While Tony was having a crisis, the camera caught another face outside the lounge window staring at the screen with a dropped jaw and a hand to the heart. Another one stared at that dropped jaw, trying to make sense of it.

“Hey,” Sam called out to Scott before proceeding to poke his arm with a finger, “hey. You okay? You havin’ a stroke? You gotta tell me if you havin’ a stroke. Scott. Scott. Tell me if you havin’ a stroke so I can get up and go. Scott. Sco-”

Sam: *deadpan* Oh my God, he fuckin’ dead.

*silence*

*snickers* *gets out his phone* I gotta text Peter this.

“What am I trying to see here?” Mrs Rhodes finally sighed.

Tony’s face felt like she just punched him in the chest. “What do you mea- that son of a bitch trying to get insufferably close to my daughter!” Tony wheezed and hissed and nearly cried.

“Your daughter doesn’t seem to care,” she laid back into the cosy chair while looking at the screen with keen observation.

You held the edges of the bed frame when Loki tried to pull you away. “NO! MINE!” you yelled, never ready for Loki’s pointed fingers coming to poke you in your waist. The sound that came out of you made Lulu jump from the window sill and hide under the sofa. “DO THAT AGAIN AND I WILL FART IN YOUR STUPID FACE!!”

“Not before I pick you up and chuck you on the lumpy mattress they will send over-ow, you are heavy.”

Loki was already grabbing you by the waist, ready to pull you away from the bed to the chair on the other end. But he was not ready for the work of your hands, pulling away on the bed sheet to twist around and wrap him in it, covering his face entirely. Your action made him move back with some muffled curses, his back banging into the wall, letting you get a headstart on that bed. But that headstart too was made up for thanks to his weirdly long legs, his arms pulling on your legs to get you off that frame you were hanging on to with your life.

Both of you grunted and fought to claim more territory than the other before the eight-hour travel wore both of you down to panting and tapping out of this messed up wrestling game.

“Time out,” you tapped, “time out. Let’s be adults about this.”

Loki nodded, turning on his back to breathe and get up. “Let’s go take a walk. Get some air. We’ll decide when we come back.”

“Cool,” you gulped in some spit to wet your overworked throat, “when we get back and still don’t know what to do, Javi can sleep in the bed and we choose between the sofa and the mattress.”

Javier knocked on the side table to bring your eyes to him. ‘I don’t want anything to do with this’, he signed before tucking his head under a tide-pod shaped cushion, leaving you and Loki to sort this bedroom tussle.

“What is it?”

“Everything?!”

“I cannot help you until you tell me exactly what it is that is making you uncomfortable, Tony.”

“Well, for starters, the very existence of this son of a-”

“Anthony.” The stress on his name followed by the death stare brought Tony to calm him down and slump back into the sofa. He raised his hands before letting them drop in defeat.

“You know I just met her, right? She just walked into my life, Roberta. Well, of course, that walking in part was something I did without letting her in on too many details.”

Roberta raised her brows.

“Okay, fine. I didn’t tell her at all. But then this guy came in at the same time she did. He not only deliberately let out the truth, making her leave, but also got her stuck in the freaking space with him!!”

“Really? How did you take it when you realised she knew?”

“I nearly had a heart attack! I thought she would hate me, never want to talk to me. Would cut all ties and disappear...in a manner of speaking.” Tony picked up the Rubik's cube kept on the side table to play with it while restlessly moving his leg where he sat.

“And did she do that?”

“...no.”

“Was she angry at you? Or Loki?”

“...no. She was worried. Anxious even.”

“Hmm. Have you felt the same kind of resentment for Loki otherwise? Before he got stuck in space?”

Tony looked up at the screen at the camera flies powering up and buzzing about around you and Loki as you headed out to check the rest of the scenery in that beautiful motel. “There was this one time when he went undercover with her. Something I did not approve of. Neither his presence nor hers on that mission.” He lowered his voice to whisper, “didn’t have to pretend they were on a date for something so serious.”

Roberta closed her notebook. “Okay,” she announced, removing her glasses and keeping them aside. “Before we go any further, Tony, I am sure you are aware why you’re being so sensitive about Loki hanging out with your daughter. Aren’t you?”

Tony shrugged. “Yeah. Because he tried to take on earth once. He can’t be trusted.”

“Mm-hmm,” there went that brow up again.

“...what.”

“Because you are trying to be her father,” she declared with a swat of her notebook on his anxious leg, making it stop. “You are trying to be a part of her life like any normal person. But you are being way too overprotective when it comes to Loki.”

“Oh, I am not-”

“Did he not save your life?”

Even if Tony tried, he was unable to form words in contradiction. “Did he not save her life? Twice? He has been living with y’all for a good amount of time now. In that time, has he caused any problem that might have suggested he is not fit to be around your daughter?”

Tony groaned. “He’s a GUY!!! AND A BEAUTIFUL ONE AT THAT!!!”

“And you think your girl is some dumbhead who does not know that?”

Tony never got the chance to answer that. “You think she does not know how much potential for danger that guy has? She is not blind Tony. Neither is she a child you need to watch over twenty-four seven. She is an adult who can take care of herself. What she needs from you is not surveillance but an openness to letting her know that you are there for her even if you were not there before. And if- this is a big if- if Loki ever hurts her, you don’t have to stand there with a banner spelling ‘I told you so’. You have to hug her and protect her. And in the name of whatever Lord it is that you pray to, Tony, you have to stop projecting your guilt like this. Her getting lost in space was not your fault.”

“How did you-I never told you half of these things!”

“I have ways to get it out of people, mister.”

“Rhodey,” Tony hissed.

“No!” Roberta swatted him again, this time on his head. “No one blames you for that incident. Neither should you. You hear me?”

Tony nodded with his lips pressed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So, what is the first thing that you will be doing now?”

Tony clicked his tongue while looking at the flatscreen. “I will...stop making missiles loaded with Loki’s DNA signature designed to blow him up.”

Swat!

“Ow! I’m kidding! Jesus, woman! I will stop guilt-tripping myself and I will stop worrying about Y/N. But that does not mean I will stop working on ways to get her home.”

“And?”

“And...I will be nicer to Loki.”

“Even if he starts dating your daughter?”

“WHYYY would he-” Tony looked at a very serious Roberta looking at him to complete that sentence. “Theoretically. Theoretically, if he starts dating my daughter, I-” he inhaled- “will mind my own business. But you can’t change me in a day. I’ll go after his knees if he does something that directly affects me.”

Roberta clapped her hands together. “Well, we are done for today. We will try some breathing exercises on Thursday along with exploring more of this relentlessness with Loki. Now, go get yo mama some iced tea.”

Tony chuckled at Roberta’s enthusiasm. “Okay. Which one? Peach, lemon, uhh-”

“The one with Long Island in it,” she ended, shifting to the sofa to watch whatever was going on in space. “And bring me some popcorn.”

 Motel Galacto-Ra, Eight Hours Earlier

“Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“How are we paying the rent for the night?”

“With our bodies. Ow!”

He chuckled even though his rub hurt from your elbow. "I borrowed some talons from your boyfriends when we left."

You crinkled your brows. "And by borrowed you mean…"

Loki simply shrugged and kept walking through the garden with you. The flowers, some colourful, some transparent to your eye, were in full bloom along the strip of water that flowed from the mountain at the entrance outside.

"Keep me updated on what all is precious on any planet we land, okay? In case I have to barter with someone, you know," you added casually.

Loki smiled at you while you were distracted by the sound of mushing potatoes from your other side. You turned to watch a creature with what looked like boils on his entire body and four arms lean by a lamp post. His green coloured beard hid most of his face but not his beady red eyes looking at you while he grunted. "Lookin' sparkling baby!" He catcalled you, making you mock a disgusted laugh out your lungs.

"Oh my God, there is catcalling even here?" You gasped in whispering tones to your company, continuing to match pace with the God.

“This universe has all sorts of elements, darling,” he sighed, “even the perverted kind.”

“Mmm, I could see that with your old ex-boyfriend in that whorehouse,” you slipped in, watching him watch you from the corner of his eyes. It was hard to keep the giggles in after a few seconds. “Hey, I’m not judging you,” you added, “in fact, I’m in awe. I wish I could have half of that confidence to pull something this big off. You have to teach me. Loki, you have to teach me.”

Before Loki could speak, an eerie whistle came from across the garden. A curvy alien with those Disney-female eyes and tentacles for hairs cooed at Loki. “Look at that fibre making up your limbs. Arrrr! Leave that little thing and come over here, you feisty beast, and I will show those beautiful parts of yours some good time.”

You had to blink yourself to the reality of having to hear those words. Loki ignored it. But the fly cameras could see you didn’t. “He’s more than just a body you space holes! Buzz off!”

An involuntary smile was already coming over his lips, the corner of his eyes crinkling as his lips parted to show his teeth to anyone who was looking. The entire emotion looked so alien yet so beautiful on him. And in the midst of this cheery daze, he opened his pocket dimension to take something out. “Here,” he called out to you softly, bringing forward his hand towards you, “keep this on you.”

Curious and bedazzled by the walnut-sized purple crystal in his hand, you took it with sounds escaping your lungs. “Thanks, Loki. Looks expensive. Wait-” the excitement in your eyes shifting to horror- “is something wrong? Are we not safe here? Are you going to sell your body off to the owner in exchange for the rent? Will I have to find my way back alone? I don’t want this! Let me go talk to the manager.”

“What? NO! Why would you think that?” Loki was truly horrified at the turn it took. “My body would sustain you for your lifetime.”

You thought about it. "Hmm. You would make a good stripper."

"I would make an amazing stripper."

"Ehhh you need a little work though. You didn't do much at Hudson's."

"Hudon. And that's because I was put there against my will. If I wanted I could."

You stared at his unadulterated joy in admitting. "What." Your lips could not stop the smile that was nearly closing your eyes before a snicker left you. "Oh my God, you are so cute," you confessed softly.

Loki tsked and rolled his eyes. "This pendant is for your protection. Keep it close. And take this too."

He opened his pocket dimension again to bring out a small dagger.

"OoooOoooh a KNIFE!" you hissed with excitement in your eyes, going for it while Loki pulled it away from your hands.

"Woah! Calm down, woman! You need to learn how to use it first."

His arm blocking your shoulders did not let yours reach even inches close to the dagger. "Argh! All I need to do is point and stab! Gimme!"

"No. NO! Stop it. You're only getting this when you promise you will use it only in case of emergencies."

You let his arm balance all your weight when you stopped going for the dagger and let your arms dangle on either side. "Ugh. Fine. You can teach me how to use it. Now please give it to me!" When he didn't, you broke into a strong.

"Give it to me, give it to me, give it to me, baby!"

Both of you felt a sudden chill in your body. "I don't know why I suddenly miss Clint."

"Me too," Loki added with quite the discomfort on his face.

.

“Okay. Follow my instructions by the letter and remember- one move too fast or too slow and it can be the end of you.”

The camera in the flies now zoomed in on your dead expression. “Way to start a lesson on a new skill, Professor,” you spewed.

“Now show me how you hold your dagger.”

You showed him. He pressed his lips and kept his hands on his waist. It took a lungful to get him to speak again. “We are not cutting peppers here, Y/N.”

“How about your hair. Can I cut that?” Loki swatted your hands coming for his locks. “Ow!”

He positioned himself behind you, patting the side of your shoulders. “Straighten your back. Come on.” When he saw you taking your sweet time with it, he poked with his finger on one side of your back, making you jolt forwards.

“Hey! It’s straight! My back’s straight. My boobs are out. What more do you want?!”

“Here.” He lifted your right hand with his. The dagger was shifted in your palm by his pale fingers going pink at the end. The hilt was positioned before his fingers curled yours over it. All through it, the distance became a bare minimum; your back touching his chest while your hair tried to tease his face. “The dagger will always stay away from you,” he stated softly with an ounce of seriousness mixed into his voice. “When the enemy is close to you, use this style to slash him. Run it the opposite way-” he directed your arm with his, his hand still around yours- “and when you come back, your turn it to give them one more wound.”

“Cool,” you exclaimed. The glow on your face along with that undiluted smile stuck till your eyes were something else entirely. This was some unadulterated joy you were feeling, learning to play with knives. Loki was watching your face from the side, not really able to digest that rush properly.

Loki: I have never seen anyone so happy to play with daggers. *shakes his head lightly* *smiles at a distant void* *camera zooms out behind him to show you swishing your dagger in the air in the garden while yelling ‘taste the metal of my shuriken, Sasuke! You unfuckable, overrated snake!*

*camera comes back to pan onto Loki’s face with a smile frozen but the eyes reflecting a newfound horror*

“Now, this one is for long-range combat. Always keep your arm straight and gut your enemy like this. Your other arm will help block and push in defence while this one will attack.”

“Ooh!” you whistled, “this one will go stabby stab.”

Loki exhaled. “Yes. That. Come on. Let’s play it out and see how much you have learned.”

You cooed, moving the dagger in between your fingers quite invitingly. “Roleplay. I like it.”

You positioned yourself opposite Loki. “Ready when you are.”

Within two long strides, he closed the distance, his hand coming for your left arm, trying to grab it. You turned against the pull of his force, to arm the dagger right into his back. “Stab. You’re dead,” you declared.

You couldn’t help chuckle out loud at his expression. “What! Natasha taught me a few moves.”

“When?”

“Remember our weekend getaways?”

“Oh,” Loki was impressed. “Again.”

This time he shed a little part of precaution and came for you. You ducked and blocked one dagger coming for you but missed the other. “Stab. You’re hurt,” he stated right before your leg came for his, bringing him down on one knee, allowing you to point your dagger at his defenceless ribcage.

“Stab. One for one,” you smiled.

His arm wrapped around yours, leaving you with no way to use the dagger it held. His other hand came for the fist you were about to throw at him; his toothy grin smack in your face. “Not laughing now-”

The impact of your leg with his crotch was not a clean shot. But it did the job. Loki’s words drowned in the pool of his own groans as he stumbled over you and you hit your back on the ground.

The flies roaming above took an air-shot of Loki’s grousing figure toppled over you while your expressions reflected a wave of embarrassing cringe you were feeling in your gut. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, cautiously patting Loki’s head.

“Natasha teach you that too?” he grunted with curiosity.

“...yeah.” You screwed your eyes shut, never stopping the gentle stroking and patting of his hair. “Your hair smells nice?” you tried the encouraging words.

You: *sorry expression* It was a fluke. I never meant to hurt him…*cringes* *whispers* or his potential babies? *camera pans out to show Loki breathing in and out throw his mouth while bending his legs and repeating it* You need an ice-pa-

Loki: *jumps away from you* Do not come near me.

You: Come on, Loki. *steps closer* It was just bad luck. And a very very lucky shot.

Loki: No. *walks out of the frame* I’m going back.

 Motel Room

Javier's face came into focus as he adjusted the lens on his new- much lighter- camera while checking the live feed on his old one before turning the latter off and packing it to keep in his backpack gifted by the Hardy Boys. The view then flipped to you coming out of the shower in a black tank top and matching shorts.

"This is really comfortable. I should have asked the boys to pack me more of this fabric."

Loki sat on the floor with a device that produced a holographic map of the galaxy they were in right now. He shifted the view with a serious look on his face. You paused the little serotonin rush to sit down on the fuzzy carpet with your knees close to your chest. "So, where are we going next?"

A heavy breath was taken in before Loki pinched out to a location. "Knowhere."

"Nowhere?"

"Knowhere. I know someone there who might be able to get these cuffs off me. Once I'm free I can use the magic to teleport us to a safe place, if not back home."

The crinkle of confusion in your brows was something he saw coming. "Teleportation costs a lot. It takes a toll on me. So I have to make sure I have the required tools and energy before we make the leap." 

“...oh. So, back when Cassie and I were stuck on the...uh…”

“Oh,” Loki sat up, “that...was a pure adrenaline rush. And it was only for a matter of seconds so it was easy.”

You did not seem convinced by his words. But something else took dominance in your thoughts. “I’m sorry you had to visit that place because of me.”

Loki simply shrugged. “No big deal. I could do it again if I wanted to.”

*somewhere on earth eight hours later, in the Avengers facility, a Scott Lang clutches his chest and winces*

“Come on let’s sleep. I’m tired from all the training.” You got up and made your way to the bed.

“We didn’t decide on who gets the bed yet.”

“Yes we did-” you were already under the covers, the cosiness making you whimper with ecstasy- “we’re both sleeping on the bed. It’s big enough for both of us.”

Loki thought for a moment before walking to the other side of the bed. “Fine by me. But fair warning, a lot of souls will die wailing tonight.”

You adjusted yourself well, nearly drowning in the fluffy blue duvet, over you. “The only thing killing any souls will be my post-travel farts. I’d suggest you get another duvet from the closet.”

The camera panned in on Loki’s face as he began his ritual of taking off his shoes. “You know, I used to think the reason you do not have any suitors for yourself is because of the over protective elements in your family. Now I’m thinking it might have something to do with you and your tendency to oversha-and she’s asleep.”

The camera zoomed out to show you already beginning to snore with your lips parted.

“Yup,” Loki whispered in a defeated sigh.

 The Lounge, Night-time on Earth

Tony alone sat on the sofa in front of the flatscreen with all the lights off, drinking chamomile tea. The clock read twelve-thirty and the grounds were silent- except for the noise of video games coming from the Dorms.

Zuko jumped up onto the couch, nudging at Tony’s arm to let him cuddle against the man. Tony, more than happy to open his arm to let the little pupper crawl into the space and settle his head on his thigh, cooed at him. “Hey there, buddy. How are you doing? Miss your mom?”

Zuko looked up to Tony with his pure puppy eyes, making the man shoot a pure smile at him. “Me too, kid,” he sighed, “me too.”

Both of them turned to the screen to watch you and Loki sleep in the same bed. The top angle really did cover everything, though it made Tony wonder how and why did they get such a good angle. Loki’s head rested on one arm while the other rested on his torso above the duvet, still like a log, breathing like a silent river through the woods. You, on the other hand, slept anything but straight. Your body was sprawled all over your side, your legs awry, the duvet slipping down the edge, snoring quite audibly with drool all over your pillow.

“A part of me is glad she has Loki by her side,” he confessed softly to his company, stroking that soft fur with his fingers. “Don’t tell him that.”

There was a stir. Your hands moved. And then your legs. Your brows furrowed and you slowly turned into a fetal position before a whine left your throat.

“Noooo,” you mumbled in your dense, sleepy state, “don’t take me awayyyyy.”

“Huh,” Tony commented, “she sleep talks. Just like her father.” He smirked.

“No!” your voice grew a pitch higher, “don’t let em take me awaaaay.”

Loki was already opening his eyes, his body on alert as he turned his face to watch the tension collecting on your forehead. Up on his one arm, he bent over you; his movement making Tony pause his whole body and perk up Zuko's head at the screen. Only when he grabbed the duvet to come back and put it over you did the two spectators go back to their normal breathing cycle.

You were tucked into the duvet as discreetly as possible before Loki’s hand stroked your hair to calm you down. The little brush of his hand in your hair worked, making you turn and scooch a little closer to him, giving into his soothing touch.

Tony could see the little smile growing on Loki’s lips. “Mother used to do it when I had nightmares. It always worked.”

Once he was content that you no longer were troubled, he receded his hand, turning on his back to look directly at the camera. The serenity on his face added to the lungful of air he took while studying something Tony seemed to have an idea about.

“I know you can watch us, Tony,” Loki began, making Tony’s tensed shoulders drop, “I don’t know how late though. I know it must be killing you to watch your daughter be trapped with a monster like me in some galaxy unreachable. I can only imagine. But I understand if my company does not bode well with you.”

Tony twisted his lips, still stroking Zuko. “You’re right about that.”

“Just to put your mind at ease, I am not interested in anything twisted when it comes to her,” he continued, turning to look at your placid face squished against the pillow, “she’s better than you lot anyways.”

Tony raised a brow at the screen, making the lone camera recording him from the shadows pan in on the confused surprise on his face. “So, you’re saying you made a friend? She’s a friend? Like best buddies or something? Like do you like her?”

Almost as if Loki could read what Tony would say, his calm face turns back to the camera to seem as serious as possible. “She is tolerable. Nothing more.”

“I’m fine with that,” Tony agreed with open arms.

“She’s stronger than I thought,” Loki confessed, letting his head dip into the pillow to look beyond the camera, “I never imagined her to be this composed in such dangerous places. Makes me think she’ll do fine on that dirty old heap of junk crawling with monsters worse than me.”

“Ha ha,” Tony mocked a laugh but kept an eye out to check whether Loki was really playing him or being serious at that moment.

“Well,” Loki turned back to look at the camera, “doesn’t mean I will pass up on any opportunity to make you claw at your skin whenever you see me close to her.” The broader the smirk on his lips, the more Tony could feel a ringing in his whole body.

“You wouldn’t do that,” he whispered at the screen, “you are too high and mighty for such a cheap play.”

Loki’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, that sick smirk still stuck on that wicked face. “I mean, what are friends if not...close. Right?”

Tony paused the stroking again- making Zuko face him and wonder why his good times were being interrupted again.

“Okay Lulu,” Loki called out the camera, that stirred at the name, “get down from there. Sleep somewhere comfortable. Somewhere you do not have me or her in your view.”

The camera shifted, jumped on the carpet, moved in circles before meeting the fuzzy fabric and going dark.

“Yeah, I’m not falling for that,” Tony admitted, chuckling to himself, “like Y/N is ever going to fall for that. She’s smarter than that. I mean, look at her father!”

Zuko did look at your father but with a tilt of his head as if questioning all that Tony just spewed in the disinterested air.

“What,” Tony looked back at the pupper, who tilted his head again, in the other direction, “oh. Is that what you think? That’s it. No more cuddles with me. Go ask someone else for love, you traitor. I’m not buying you any more doggie toys, you stupid pupper. Shoo!”

[diary-of-deadweight]

Friendship anniversary.

Pairing: Tenya Iida x reader

Summary: what started out as a idea pitched at 3am turned tradition, Iida is planning something big with the help of Deku and Uraraka.

Iida paced within the comfort of his own room, arms behind his back as he racked his brain of what to get you for friendship anniversary, which was slowly creeping nearer the longer he spent a majority of the free time pacing with no dice. It was a beyond infuriating task as your someone who values the thought put into a gift rather then the price tag; hell he could give you a notebook and you would love it as if you were gifted a car instead. Iida wanted to give you something you’d love even if the price is above the budget you agreed on way back then.

So he visited the local jewellery store at the weekend and saw something he’d think you would absolutely love as it reminded him of your beauty and how much it has blossomed over your years of friendship, not just physically but personality wise too, he bought it and kept it in his desk since then but for Iida one gift wasn’t enough as you always managed to get him two gifts he absolutely loved which is why he was currently pacing in his room.

He was trying to come up with another gift he’d knew you would like.

sad thing was that he didn’t know what to get you as he already bought you the latest movies and the latest manga of your favourite anime; one punchman which was a true tale about a bald hero and his immense strength, speed and agility along side his dream of meeting a strong enough opponent who can toss him around a bit before knocking them around abut himself with a single punch, for your birthday and previous friendship anniversaries that he was left to his own devices this time round.

A knock upon the door pulled him from out of his brainstorming session, striding over to the door to see who was in need of his assistance during this dire time. “Hey Iida.” The class rep was greeted by his dear friends, Izuku and Uraraka, “do you wanna head to the mall with us?” The Brunette asked. “I’m sorry but I’m currrntly facing a task that requires my full attention right now, so I’m gonna have to decline your offer.” Iida informed them before closing the door on them, ready to get back to his scheduled brainstorming only to find his friends sat upon his bed made him do a double take between the door and them in befuddlement that went unnoticed by the two. “What’s troubling you Iida, we are your friends and friends help each other,” Ochaco nodded her head vigorously at Midoriya’s statement, “so we shall tackle this issue together.”

Iida sighed, shaking his head in disbelief at his friends persistence of wanting to aid him and decided that three heads were ultimately better then one and he was in desperate need of an idea so what could go wrong? “It’s mine and (y/n)’s frienship anniversary coming up and I’m struggling to think of another gift to give them.” He day himself on the other side of Midoriya, leaning his back against the cold wall. “So what is the first gift you got them?” Ochaco tilted her head to the side, her bob haircut followed suit with her moment.

“An Swarovski crystal necklace.”

Izuku and Ochaco gasped in surprise, sharing a look before looking back at Iida, “Doesn’t (y/n) hate expensive gifts because a Swarovski Crystal isn’t cheap.”

“I know, I thought that if I tell them that it reminded me of how beautiful and unique our friendship is that they wanted to preserve it forever.” Iida explained, blushing slightly when Uraraka cooed at how cute it all was that the bluenette must’ve thought she misinterpreted it as something albeit romantic but waved it off as accidental. “Why don’t you show them how much they mean to you.” Izuku suggested with a shrug, Iida thought about it and sure enough took interest in the idea, “what do you mean by that Midoriya?”

“I mean that you should create a slide by slide presentation on all the great moments you’ve had together.” The curly emerald haired male expanded upon his idea, “add some videos if you have any.” Ochaco added for the hell of it, already excited to see the finished product that they both free balled ideas that Iida either shot down due to being unrealistic to pull off or liked as it was something that could be easily accomplished.

This went on well into the afternoon and they decided that the plan was ready to go and went down to celebrate with Katsuki’s cooking as they dragged their limbs that felt like they were 100 pounds heavier with each step they took.

Timeskip

When the day finally arrived Iida was practically sweating bullets and his nervousness kicked into overdrive as he couldn’t seem to hold the USB without his hand violently shaking that he decided to place it within the safety in his pocket along side the necklace so he didn’t loose and or drop it anytime soon. He looked up at the clock upon the wall, sapphire gaze setting upon the illumonesent scarlet numbers which flashed repeatedly:

‘8:30am’

It wouldn’t be long until you would wake up and head down to the common room for breakfast and your morning cup of tea/coffee, you were a grumpy little shit without it as many of the class found out first hand. So the tall male setted off out the door and down to the common room like a bolt of lightning and began setting up everything whilst leaving his friends Uraraka and Midoriya to inform the rest of his classmates why most of the common room will be sectioned off into a blanket fort, they insisted in helping him set up to which he declined but appreciated their offer as this day was primarily for you and him specifically after a 3am conversation.

So he was thankful that no one was down in the common room as a majority of them were heavy sleepers and wouldn’t get up until like 10 am whilst people like Katsuki and Kirishima were early worms and would get up the millisecond the sun rose and do some morning training which gave Iida the chance to litter the floor with wisteria petals, whip out a old theatre screen from the closets (I don’t know the fucking name to them ok.) a little projector that he could connect to the computer and did a little test run beofre giving the room a satifying nod just as a ‘ping’ noise came from his phone.

It was a text from Midoriya.

‘Hey Iida are you ready cuz (y/n) is heading towards the staircase right now, Uraraka tried to stall them a little to give you extra time but it failed badly.’

Iida smiled at how kind his friends are to stall time for him, he responded back with.

‘Thank you Midoriya I’m already set up with relatively ease but I appreciate the help.’

After he pocketed his phone a voice from the stair case he knew almost instantly.

“Oh my god...Iida,” he turns around to you with a softened look, “is this all for our special day?” He wordlessly nods, “it’s beautiful.” He watched your wide eyed expression as they wander around the decorated section as if you were walking through the snow covered streets of Musutafu as you came from a *cough* fictional *cough* country where snow is rare; unable to speak which gave Iida mixed emotions as half of him believed it was out of disgust while the other half believed that it was out of shock and amazement at his efforts of making today the best friend’s anniversary in recent memory, something he hope you both remember years from now.

He wandered over to you, resting a hand upon your shoulder that made you jump slightly, you turned to him with an almost unreadable expression, making IIda’s worry increased by a fraction.

“(Y/n), do you like it?”

“Like it? Like it? Iida I love it!” You exploded with joy as you hugged the male as tightly that he swore he couldn’t feel his lower half beofre finally deciding that it was time to show you the gifts so he tapped you on the shoulder to signify for you to release him, which you did as you watched him as he made his way over to the computer, pressing play as a video began playing from the projector that began with some emotional music whilst pictures of you and Iida flashed before your eyes while every once in a while bold lettering would spread saying the sweetest shit like:

‘Under a cherry blossom tree three years ago stood a person I had no idea would later become my best friend. Someone I couldn’t possibly live without or be away from for an extensive period of time without worrying about their well being but I know that they know I only mean well when I do so.

‘But as of this year, 2020, I had troubles trying to think of what to get them as I would spoil them rotten under the radar which’ll most definitely earn me a scolding later today. If it wasn’t for Izuku and Uraraka for giving me this idea during my time of stress, I don’t know what I would’ve done.’

Before another barrage of photos and videos of you both either inside or outside the academy, being either falsely stern at each other and laughing about it seconds after or just pulling funny faces at the camera.

‘So I decided to take their idea and make a presentation on how much (y/n) (l/n)’s frienship means to me so I’m going to summarise it on a sentence before the next section of pictures cuts in.’

You chuckled at this.

‘(Y/n)’s friendship means everything to me and I would never trade it for anything.’

So as the last load of pictures and or videos came to an end one last paragraph showed itself over an uncomfortably zoomed in picture of your face such drew a hysterical laugh from your lips, a sweet release from all the crying you’ve been doing through out it all as nostalgia swept you off your feet and carried you down memeory lane of each individual picture and or video. You truly didn’t know where you’d be without having this sapphire eyed male beside you...you truly didn’t.

‘(Y/n). Your friendship was and always will be the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced and I hope that even well into adulthood we still uphold this tradition for as long as we can, I never wish to loose the unique relationship we’ve built overtime due to the lack of communication, it’s something I’d be stupid to give up, so I hope you enjoy the next gift that, honestly costed a pretty penny but was most defiantly worth it as it symbols out frienship and how it’s so unique it had to be crystallised. Happy friend anniversary (y/n), here’s to many more’

- Tenya Iida.

Tenya then knelt next to you as he hands you a small box, gesturing you to open it with a nod of his head as he wiped away the tears that had gathered within his eyes over the presentation and the waves of nostalgia that wished over him and how even through the worst of days you both stuck together like gorilla glue.

You opened the beautifully presented box to see this:

“A Swarovski Crystal?!” You exclaimed as you dangled the necklace in front of your blurry eyes as you admired hoe it glistened under the light, “Tenya Iida, you beautiful bastard help me get this on please.” You sniffled as you unclasped the necklace, handing it to Iida who sat himself behind you, shifting hair out of the way as he clasped the necklace as you felt the center price rest upon the middle of your chest as you gazed down at it in awe, wiping away the tears that cascaded down your cheeks like a waterfall as you were riddlers with emotions that you just thought ‘fuck it’ and tackled Tenya into a hug as you cried into him; saying how you didn’t deserve such a friend as loyal as him and thanked him for being born, how blessed you were to have him in your life which made Iida collapse into a heap of tears himself, while unknownst to you, the rest of your class stood on the stair way, smiling at your sweet moment before evacuating the area to give you both some privacy.

Later down the line you and Iida may or may not have gotten married later on in life and would be spending your third anniversary underneath a familiar cherry blossom tree, the same exact one where you first met all those years back.

[fiftyshadesofsoas]

Quarantine

Their eyes met across a crowded Zoom. 

It was Wednesday. It was quiz night. It was the peak of the lockdown quiz trend, and he’d been looking forward to this all week. The Group™ was back together again, and that meant that she’d be there too, a pixellated minx grinning at him from the corner of his laptop.

The Group™ had started their first year years ago, but nobody could quite figure out how they actually knew each other. She’d done an anthropology unit with her, and she shared a flat off Holloway Road with him, and he knew that guy somehow, the guy who was with her for a bit before splitting up and insisting they were still friends even though they all knew they were fucking on and off for years, and she knew him through protests, probably? It was something like that.

They’d meant to do some kind of reunion thing back in September to mark ten years since they’d first met, they had set up a WhatsApp group called “reUNIon?” and everything, but everybody’s busy, everybody’s so fucking busy, and it almost happened in October but then so-and-so had to go to New York for work that weekend and then in November what’s-his-face moved abroad and went almost totally AWOL and then Christmas was obviously out because everybody had gone “home” even though they hadn’t lived there for years and then half of them were doing dry January and then what’s-her-name had twins (fucking twins!) so that was that for a while, and then coronavirus hit and suddenly nobody had anything to do. And they started spending time together again.

His palms were sweaty. He was the host, and he was the only one on the Zoom so far. Hopefully somebody else would join soon. As long as it wasn’t the guy who had got really into sourdough during lockdown, and couldn’t talk about anything else exc-

shit. There she was.

It was just the two of them, for the first time in years. It was time to show her how he’d grown into a confident man with a career, and a pension, and a hairline that wasn’t receding that much for his age, who was comfortable in his own (now slightly wrinkly) skin.

“Hi. Uh, how’s working from home this week?”

Fuck’s sake, man. You’re thirty. You’ve got better chat than this.

“Same as ever. Lockdown, right?”, she said. 

She scanned her screen. It was still just the two of them. 

“You know, while it’s just the two of us, it’s funny,” she continued. “I don’t think you ever knew, but I had a massive thing for you back in the day.”

He felt a maelstrom of feelings all at once. It was like his brain was his inbox and his emotions were frantic emails coming from all sides like the SOAS alumni relations team asking for donations. This was good, right? She liked him! But wait, she had a massive thing? Had in he past tense? That’s not a good tense.

“Oh right?”, he said. 

“Yeah, I often wondered if we’d end up together.”

“Well”, he said, seizing the moment, seizing it harder than he’d seized the first and only job offer that came his way after graduating in the worst patch of austerity imposed by the Tory/LibDem coalition, “better late than never, right?”

He smoothly enabled the waiting room that would stop the rest of The Group™ from joining the call. It was like suavely, suggestively locking the door, but with an added air of conference calls. Unlike a conference call, he started to take his shirt off. She saw where this was going, and quickly moved from the kitchen, where her housemate was heating up a frozen pizza for the fourth time this week, to her bedroom. She got the impression of firm pecs - or perhaps some burgeoning moobs, it was hard to tell at this resolution. It left a lot to the imagination, and she liked it. She thought of six packs past, the lithe torsos and unblemished skin of her uni conquests, spirits eager, not distracted, bodies willing, not wobbling. She took her clothes off hastily, partly through untrammelled desire, partly because she hadn’t worn a bra for months. She adjusted her laptop screen to an optimal angle and lay back carefully, self-consciously, her elbows pinned to her sides to stop her breasts flopping into her armpits, hoping her camera wasn’t good enough to pick up the odd rogue hairs which defied plucking, determinedly worming their way back to the surface, yearning for destinations unknown. 

She reached for the lube, gave it a couple of vigorous pumps, and started squelching in and around her enraptured flaps. Maturity had brought expertise and efficiency, and she was soon arching her back as she skimmed her fingertips across her greasy love nubbin, feeling herself splurt and splutter as she spasmed. And as she watched him grapple with his own moistened meat, contorting his face like a dog eating a lemon, she felt the thrill of the experience mix with the relief that it was her and her alone doing this. Back at SOAS, the boys she fucked were young and taut and in their slim muscular prime, but the sex itself was terrible, all bitten nails and unwashed fingers scraping away at her clit, scratchy stubble against her inner things, sloppy uncertain tongues and stilted arrhythmic heaves. Yet as soon as the boys grew up, became men who listened and sensed and responded, men who took pleasure in pleasing, men who learned to love, they sagged and faded and stressed. What use was a delicate and skilled tongue tip, a virtuoso of vag, an artisan of arse, if he wasn’t fully in the moment, if his mind was on meetings and his waistline on the wane?

But here it was just her, doing what she knew, watching him on the screen, imagining him how she used to want him, imagining him doing what she imagined he could now.

Suddenly, he froze. Out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen his own video in the corner of his screen. His pre-cum-flecked snail trail, sweaty and matted against his stark white belly, which hung ponderously over his birds’ nest pubes, the occasional grey glinting in the light from the screen. His hand, jerking erratically, beating a rhythm against his work laptop, the IT department asset tag sticker lifting the corner and scraping his knuckles. His wizened ballbag, skin folds hanging like curtains, swaying with the motion, too loose against his dangling jizz orbs like the wrinkled surface of an old mouldy apple, uncannily soft, sprouting wiry tufts of pubes, a beige nightmare made flesh. And his straining glans, gleaming in his grip, peeking out like a shy tortoise, coyly withdrawing, tasting the air again. 

He tried to block it from his mind, his disgust at the absolute state of himself. But the more he tried, the more he was drawn to it, and as he finally made eye contact with his own mirrored image, he withered, his puckered pecker limp and slippery and unfulfilled in his frothy fingers.

He groaned, and pulled his laptop towards him.

“I’m so sorry,” he explained hurriedly, “I just... I guess I’m distracted, I accidentally made eye contact with my video, it weirded me out, and it’s also been a long day, I keep thinking of work, and the whole pandemic, and... can we try again? Not now, we’ve got the quiz, but another time, can we be in each other’s support bubble? Can we drive to Barnard Castle and check our eyesight together? Can we make up for lost time, can we refind ourselves? I love you, I think I always have, and I feel so trapped and scared here in my flat, watching the news and watching the deaths, I’m scared I’ve wasted my life, I’m scared of death and I’m scared it’ll be me and I’m scared it’ll be you, and I’m scared I’ll never say or do what I think matters. Can we start again properly, can we give this a go? Can we isolate together, quarantine together, can we help each other through this? Because all I know right now is that I’m alive and you’re alive and we’ve missed chances before and I never want to miss a chance again. What do you think?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t get that. You’re on mute.”