#anyway whatever irs fine.

[29121996]

OH HOLD THE FUCKUP

[dittolicous]

sighs. i have had so much free time because of my cut hours but its. still left me with nothing to do, since i have to save as much money as possible while looking for another job. so i sleep, wake up, look to see if there are any new job postings on indeed/linkedin/ziprecruit/monster/etc, dig farther into google for more sketchy job openings, think about what company sites i can check for direct jobs, check those sketchy 'surveys for money' sites,... and then i go back to sleep. because well. cant be hungry or waste money if ur asleep.

i just. im miserable. i have so much time but i cant even enjoy or use it because im going to start bleeding money i dont have soon. im fucking terrified of not being able to find a new job, of being stuck in this... dead end job. unable to get off this damn island. it makes me sick. so im bored and guilty and scared and i just gucking hate this!

im so fuckibg tired of living in this godforsaken world where you only deserve to live if you give up everything. honestly, i wish someone would just. fuckibg come beat me up. wish my parents had actually fucking hit me instead of just yelling and insults. wish i was missing limbs or brain fuction or just. anything. anything to get the world to see i cant function.

im an empty brained idiot. i dont have any passion or self. how am i suppose to live? id rather be a fucking shattered glass than an empty jar. but thats what i am.

god i just. how???? how????? how do people... live????? how do you create and make.... your brand or personality? i cant make any of that. im just here. breathing. not for any reason. thats how its always been. everytime i see jokes about what kind of 'weird kid' you were i want to cry. because ive never been fucking anything! i wasnt a horse girl or a cat girl or train person or dinosaur nut or a monster fan and never cared about Egypt or rome or didnt care for legos or cars or model building or WHATEVER. ive just! been here! with nothing! im not ANYTHING. i dont have hobbys. ive nev r had hobbies.

ive always been alone and empty. disconnected from the world. disconnected from the community. disconnected from everyone.

my life is nothing. has been nothing. just a waste of time and space. nothing to show but misery and anger. theres no escaping it. i wish i was an actual person instead of this empty sack of nothing.

get hobbies they say, thatll help, yeah surs. sure. hobbies. to store in my roach and rat infested house, where i hide away in a tiny room because its the only space i have that i can control. with the money that i dont have. alone. because im terrible at bonding with people. because why would any human wanna hang around me? and because i tire so fucking fast.

i just. i wish i was fucking dead. im tired of this stupid fucking world. thinking things might get bettrr jusy to have reality forced into my face. im a piece of garbage npc who would have been better never being born.

[nightingale-prompts]

Interdimensional Babysitter - DC x DP prompt

Danny used to be feared. He was respected. People coward before him.

Then he decided to help some heroes.

Now they casually call on him for help and advice.

Ir was a decent break from duties and being treated like a young bratty prince by the Observers when he wanted to make changes in the realms.

The biggest mistake was giving the Justice League a small portal to a pocket dimension Danny had made for relaxing and storing trinkets he finds on his adventures.

Currently, the Titans are using it as a clubhouse. Now the all the games have been moved, someone has been using his extremely rare (for humans to get) snacks are going missing and there was green fur on his weighted blankets.

Then there were the little ones. Robin and Superboy. They were the biggest pains Danny had faced yet.

Danny could be working in his observatory and reorganizing the path of stars when they barged in and asked for a new toy to play with.

Well, Danny called them toys but they were just tools he didn't need. The kids thought they were some epic powerful device.

Danny had given them a small pocket portal this time. It would let them add a new room to the pocket dimension and put whatever they want in it. It would give them whatever they wanted so Danny didn't need to be bothered.

Last time he gave them a portal cutter to let them cross dimensions. It should be fairly safe and child-proof since it was a failed creation that can only go to a limited number of universes. The danger there was limited to Saturday morning cartoons level. Not that they knew that.

Danny accepted that being allies with the Justice League meant lending a hand but babysitting was a step too far. He was an all-powerful cosmic being! Why can't he just help out on missions instead of being relegated to being the info guy or the helpful spirit that gives out the power boosts? He could handle doing more than being the planetary level protector that only does things when the entirety of the earth is in danger.

Then Superman and Batman had the nerve to scold him for not keeping an eye on the kids. How was he supposed to know they would send the Joker into a dimension populated by man-eating dinosaurs? Danny was sure it would be fine anyways. The kids had a good lesson on dinosaurs, kids love dinosaurs.

Danny could have done way worse. The portal cutter didn't even give them access to parallel dimensions. Superboy didn't need to see the evil version of his father killing his friends and Robin wouldn't see Nightwing enslave the human race.

There is no pleaseing these people.

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[ohbo-ohno]

I REALLY wanna see Johnny get mad! Like white hot angry at reader. Don’t know what/how it happened but Johnny’s gonna make all of reader’s poor holes suffer🥺

Maybe Simon gets surprised and turned on by his pup’s newfound aggressiveness

3.6k pwp soap drabble 4 u (cw for referenced burning building, angry sex, some light mutual degradation/objectification, and voyeurism since ghost watches)

You fume silently, face hot with rage while you and Soap walk side by side behind Ghost down the base hallways. There's a tension at the base of your neck that you just know is going to become a migraine if you don't get some medicine soon, and your bones ache from going too long without sleep.

Soap's somehow even stiffer beside you, the distance between you two small but intentional. Usually he's impossible to pry off of you, always brushing against you and looking for more physical contact, but since you landed he's kept at least half a foot between you two at all times.

Fine by you. You don't want him touching you right now anyway.

The silence is thick as Ghost leads you two to his room, his shoulders loose and relaxed.

He's got no reason to be tense, you suppose. He's not the one who had a massive disagreement on the field, who had to drag his squadmate back from a blazing fire and deal with his bitching instead of his thanks.

Just the memory of it makes you scowl.

Ghost leads the two of you into his room in rare silence, though it's only rare because usually you and Johnny would already be teasing or flirting at this point. But you don't bother now, not with your anger so fresh in your mind.

Ghost is the only one to get settled once Johnny closes the door behind you. You two stand on opposite sides of the doorframe, both too tense to do much but stew in your own righteous anger, and Ghost starts to get dressed down into something more comfortable.

He lets the two of you stay quiet until he's fully changed into a tank top and sweats, no boxers then sits on the bed with an overly loud sigh.

"You two even gonna look at each other?"

Your lip curls as you glance at Johnny from the corner of your eyes. "I have nothing to say to him."

"'S not what I asked."

Your cheek twitches and you bite your tongue, rolling a sharp canine over it. "Honestly, Simon, I don't even want to see him right now."

Johnny scoffs, loud in the otherwise quiet room, and nearly stomps to your side, leaning in front of you to try and force eye contact. "Oh, really? Ye can't even look at me, huh? Had no problem lookin' earlier, when you were draggin' me away from my goddamn mission."

You want to growl, you want to rake your nails down his face and scream about what a fool he is, what a jackass, and you want to make him remember.

Some of your ire must shine through in your expression, and Johnny mirrors it, eyes sparking as he straightens and stands diagonally from you, chest nearly brushing your shoulder.

"Dragging you away from your death, more like," you sneer.

"Wasn't your place," he bites back, moving forward enough that you can feel the heat of him even through all your layers. "You aren't my fuckin' CO and I'm not yours - wasn't any of your business how I chose to execute my orders."

"It is when you chose to do it in the most lethal way possible! Fuck, MacTavish, had you taken half a second and listened to me-"

"Oh, that's all it woulda taken? Just had to shut my pretty lips and listen to you, jump before you even say how high? Newsflash, lass, you don't get to make those decisions."

"And you do?"

"In this case? Yeah, you're fuckin' right I do. Price said drag the man out, alive, and that's what I was doing."

"You ran into a burning building!"

"Under orders from our CO!"

"You know damn well that's not what he meant, Sergeant, cut the shit. The orders were to bring him back alive, not kill yourself in the process!"

"That's the job, Sergeant. You do whatever it takes to fulfill your orders."

You're both panting as he snarls the words, nose to nose and eye to eye, teeth bared in rage that feels almost primal. His close brush with death, the way you'd had to tackle him to keep him from running after the damn target, leaves you raw and unsteady. Had you been any weaker, any less filled by adrenaline and panic and something deeply possessive, you know Soap would've thrown you off and gotten himself killed. You were hardly able to hold him down until the screaming stopped as it was.

You take as deep a breath as you can with your heart racing, and reach up to wrap the collar of Johnny's shirt tight in your fist, dragging him so close that your noses brush, hot breaths shared.

"You don't get to fucking leave me." You shoot a glance over Johnny's shoulder, to where Ghost sits comfortably against the headboard of your shared bed. "Leave us. I won't let you."

It's the last sentence that has him bristling, that ruins your chance of a settled argument.

The only person who lets Soap do anything is Ghost. The two of you listen to your Lieutenant with no questions, no doubt, no hesitations, but the same doesn't go for your fellow Sergeant. Since the 141 had formed, you and Soap have been fighting for dominance over one another, both of you determined to establish your control of the other like Ghost has for both of you.

The insinuation that you would let Soap do anything isn't something he'll let slide.

Hours later, fucked raw and sated, you can admit to yourself that the wording was slightly intentional. But now, with the fresh wound of Soap's close call with death still stinging in your subconscious, you only mean it as a way to push his anger to the level yours has been at for hours now.

"Let me?" He rumbles, muscles relaxing as he steps forward enough to press his chest to yours, head ducked low so all you can see is Johnny. "You don't let me do shit, lass. Couldn't stop me if you tried."

You can't help the way your lips quirk up into a humorless smile, your fist tightening in the fabric of his shirt. "Had a pretty easy time of it earlier, MacTavish. Had you pinned and writhing under me, like a bitch-"

Before you can finish your taunt, you find yourself pinned to the door, a mouth covering yours.

Johnny's teeth are sharp against your lips as he nips at you, leaving behind a sting and a throb. You dig your nails into his shoulders, raking them down his arms and rumbling in dissatisfaction when his clothes keep him from feeling anything.

You bite back as you push at the hem of his shirt, desperate to get your hands on him and make him hurt. You trace your fingers over his abs as you get his bottom lip between your teeth, pulling him down to your height and smirking at his glare.

You don't kiss so much as fight with lips instead of fists, there's no affection or softness between the two of you right now. You're nothing but your anger, but your desperation, and deep down your fear. You cling to Johnny with something verging on desperation, bite and scratch to make him feel even a bit of the pain you had at such a close call with death.

He leans almost his entire weight into yours to keep you pinned against the door, but you only have to shove at his shoulders a few times for him to get the hint and move backwards.

His lips never leave yours as you walk him back to the bed, his hands coming up to grip your thighs as he falls back and keeps you on top of him. You taste the slightest tang of iron as you shift your knees up next to his hips, squeezing his sides between your thighs and his tongue between your teeth.

"You gonna ride me?" He pants when you pull away for a breath of air, your hips working over the tent in his pants. "Think you're in charge, bonnie?"

You bare your teeth at him, grinding your core against the tent in his pants. “I’m not the one on my back, MacTavish.”

His smile is all teeth as he bucks his hips into yours, knocking you off balance so you’re forced to brace your hands on either side of his head. “I don’t need to be on top to keep you on a leash.”

It’s all too easy to hook your fingers in his throat mic - his collar. His pupils blow wide when you tug harshly enough to pull his head off the mattress, his hips following as he moans and grinds you down onto him with a bruising grip on your thighs.

“Down,” you smirk, leaning your weight back and forcing his hips to the bed, grinding your hips. “‘S my turn, Johnny. Gonna use you ‘til you’re wrung dry.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, then rests on his bottom lip instead of settling behind his teeth. You can’t resist the urge to lean down and lick over his lips, covering them in your own spit and groaning when he pulls you back into a proper kiss.

Despite your hand around his throat and your weight on top of his, you’re both equally in control as you strip the other. You can’t be bothered to wrestle his wrists to the bed, far preferring to let him paw your shirt and pants off while you tear the seams in his indecently tight shirt.

You only have the patience to get his pants to his knees, unwilling to help him kick them off for full mobility. Instead you grind yourself against his hard length, the soaked gusset of your underwear dragging wonderfully over both his cock and your clit.

You shift your hand on his neck so your palm is resting on his Adam’s apple, giving him just enough pressure to stay flattened to the bed.

He nearly growls when you push, the head of his cock getting caught in your panties and brushing the crease of your thigh. “Fuck, bonnie, get it on with.”

You blink down at him, cocking an unimpressed brow and shifting your hips so he slips between your folds, tucking your underwear to the side with your free hand. “You’re not in charge right now, MacTavish. I’m on top.”

“Only cause I’m lettin’ ya,” he pants, hips twitching as he tries to find your hole, tries to find a hole to sink into.

You lean down just far enough to bite the air in front of his nose, all feral rage and sexual frustration as you let yourself sit on his cock, holding him still beneath you. “You don’t let me do shit, I do whatever the fuck I want to. And right now, I want to ride you ‘til you stop fucking talking.”

You press your lips to his before he can bite back the response you see waiting on his tongue, letting your hips move in the way that feels best for you as you lick over his teeth.

Johnny’s always loved making out. When Ghost keeps him locked up, or he’s just not allowed to fuck you, he’ll happily spend hours with your lips glued together, dry humping each other and swapping spit. You can’t even count the number of times he’s come in his pants while thrusting against your hip or your side, driven over the edge by just a kiss.

You take advantage of that now, keeping one hand on his throat and the other circling the base of his throbbing cock so you can line yourself up above him. He’s far too distracted with your lips and tongue to remember he could tug you down on him at any moment, could flip the two of you with hardly any effort at all.

Despite the complete lack of prep, your body takes Johnny easily, the familiar stretch making you moan as you sink down onto him with one smooth movement. You blink open wet eyes just in time to see Johnny’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head when your ass rests against him, his cock buried inside of you.

You don’t let yourself rest for long, though most days you love to just feel the weight of either of your boys inside of you. But that current of anger is still pulsing beneath your skin, and all the hot, sweat slick contact between you and Johnny only makes you feel more desperate.

Your pace is merciless, for both him and yourself. Your knees and thighs scream as you slam yourself to the base of Johnny’s cock, making sure you pull off nearly to the tip on every thrust. Without a hand around his throat, you’d have lost your balance on the first thrust.

Johnny’s pulse thunders against your fingers, so fast and so harsh that you swear you can ever see your fingertips twitching against his throat. His breaths are quick and erratic, and you can’t help but subconsciously match his breathing with your faces as close together as they are.

“So fucking good,” you moan, rolling your hips as you lift yourself off of him, dragging the head of his cock along your walls. Your voice cracks when he bucks his hips up, and you’re relieved that he’s already too blissed out to notice, lost in the tight vice of your cunt. 

“Yeah?” Johnny pants, tongue nearly lolling out of his mouth when you pull away fully. “Stuff you just right, yeah, lass?”

You bite your tongue against an agreement, some deep part of you that’s not quite drunk on pleasure yet unwilling to give Johnny that kindness. Instead you shift your weight, so that your hand is more cupping Johnny’s jaw and putting pressure on his head instead of his neck, letting you really push him down and get the proper leverage to fuck yourself on his cock. 

“Perfect fucking-” you shudder against the words, moan when he rubs just over your g-spot and repeating the same motion with your hips again and again. “Perfect fucking toy, so nice to ride.”

The sound Johnny makes is purely animalistic, torn between anger and desperation, something rough and low in his throat. You can feel the rumble of it through your hand and can’t help but moan in return, finally nearing your peak even as your legs continue to burn.

Neither of you speaks as you ride him, your head hanging low so you’re eye-level with his nipples and focused entirely on your own pleasure. The way your muscles scream at you only fills you with more need, more desperation, and the pain pushes you closer and closer to the edge. Your clit grinds just right over the rough patch of Soap’s pubic hair, soaking it in your juices and covering him in slick.

You reach your peak with gasping breaths, nearly going cross-eyed as you use Johnny entirely for your own pleasure, using him as nothing more than something to hold yourself up on and a toy to ride. Your muscles go completely lax as your pleasure overwhelms you, leaving you slumped against his muscular chest as you ride out the orgasm with small rolls of your hips.

Johnny’s still rock hard inside of you as you come down, his grip on your thighs tight enough to bruise. Your hand has slipped from underneath his collar to the mattress next to his face, and you don’t have the energy to push yourself up and away, to deny him like you’d intended.

Your lungs feel too small as you try to take deep gasping breaths, only managing a few before your lungs start hitching. Johnny’s chest rises and falls quickly beneath your head, his heart pounding beneath your ear.

You don’t have time to brace yourself before you’re flipped onto your stomach, face down on the mattress.

One moment you’re floating in post-orgasmic bliss, letting your body clench down on Johnny and milk him, the next moment you’re on your knees with your back forced into a deep arch, that same cock pounding into you like a machine.

Your groan is bone deep when you finally lift your head enough to breathe, eyes rolled heavenward as your body tries its best to adjust to the harsh treatment.

“Show you a fucking toy,” Johnny snarls from over your shoulder, his voice sounding distant beneath the blood rushing through your ears. “Think ye can just treat me like fucking nothing, get yerself off then take a fucking nap? Nah, yer gonna take what ye fucking deserve.”

The thickening of Johnny’s accent has you gushing around him, your sensitive channel clenching down so hard that you’re surprised he can pull out at all. 

Johnny’s hand wraps in your hair when you try to let your head fall forward again, yanking you back with enough strength to leave you yowling at the strain on your neck.

“Don’t fucking hide,” he hisses, landing a sharp slap on the meat of your ass. “Think ye can just shove yer head in the sand? Let me fuckin’ hear you, lass, sing f’r me.”

“Fu-uck you,” you manage to groan, syllables interrupted on every thrust, your voice cracking. “You’re not- fuck, Johnny, don’t have to listen to you.”

You can practically hear the way he gnashes his teeth over your shoulder, can perfectly envision the angry snarl on his face at your lack of submission.

“Ye will. Gonna teach ye a fuckin’ lesson about yer place.”

You try your best to rear up, whipping your head over your shoulder to glare as best you can despite the grip on your hair. “My place? Who the hell  do you think- oh fuck, fuck, Johnny, you can’t- goddamnit-”

“Can’t even get a goddamn word out.” Even from your terrible angle you can see that his smile is mean. “Think ye can be in charge when ye can’t even finish a sentence? Fuckin’ fool.”

You nearly shriek when he shoves your head down to the mattress, clawing fruitlessly at anything in front of you. You only freeze when you feel flesh give way underneath your nails, the hard muscles of a thick thigh under your palm.

You can just barely angle your head enough to glance up and see Simon looking down at you, but you can’t manage to see anything past his general shape with the way Soap is trying to shove you inside the mattress.

Ghost’s hand comes to rest on your head, and when you lean into him he pushes Johnny’s fingers off.

“Watch it, pup,” he rumbles, and Johnny’s hips stutter behind you. “You’re already in trouble. Do you really wanna make it worse?”

Your self-righteous smirk is hidden in the sheets, but you can’t fully muffle your laugh when Johnny’s whines over your shoulder. The sound quickly morphs into a snarl, and he buries his teeth into your shoulder as his hips start to work again, the sound of his balls slapping against your soaked cunt obscene.

Johnny wraps his arms beneath your torso, hooking his hands on your shoulders so he can tug you into every thrust, moving his face up to nose at your throat. You feel covered by him, consumed by him, as he chases his own pleasure.

You don’t quite manage to get off before he empties himself inside you, but there’s a deep satisfaction in your bones that still lets you melt into him.

Johnny’s all heat and power at your back as he goes weak against you, and a small shove to his shoulder from Ghost has both of you resting on your sides, spooning with his cock still buried inside of you.

Your breaths sync with his quickly, matching the inhales and exhales you can feel against your neck and the rise and fall of his chest against your back.

Your eyes flutter shut, relaxing into the bed and Johnny’s arms. You know that you’ll have to Talk later, about what he’d done and how you’d responded. But you know it’ll be an easier conversation after Ghost’s punishment, when all of your consciousness has eased a bit.

“There ya go,” you hear Ghost say, followed by a soft stroke over your head. “Exhausted yourselves, huh? Silly pups.”

You hum and Johnny rumbles behind you, burying his face more fully in your throat. You feel Ghost’s other hand pet over his mohawk, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“I guess you can nap.” Ghost sighs, like he’s doing you both a great favor. “You’ll both need all your energy for your punishment, anyway. Breakin’ damn near every rule in the book just cause you got a little worked up. What am I gonna do with the two of you?”

You don’t have the energy to respond, and the best Johnny manages is a small and plaintive whine. Ghost chuckles from above you, and you feel him lay in front of you, his arms wrapping around Johnny’s back and tugging you both to him.

“Yeah, yeah,  I know. Just relax now, you’re alright.”

It’s easy to drift off, even if the heat is near suffocating and the stretch of Johnny’s cock verges on the edge of too much. You’re loose-limbed and sated, and Johnny’s safe beside you. There’s little else you could ever want, ever need, and you can’t be much more than grateful as you fall asleep between your men.

[captain-hawks]

waking reverie

levi ackerman x f!reader

summary: sick and tired of overhearing the sounds of you fooling around with a fellow squad leader, Levi decides to confront you afterward at a particularly inopportune moment.

or, Levi catches you getting yourself off and has a thing or two to say (and do) about it.

word count: 4.3k

content: NSFW, 18+, smut, masturbation, fingering, oral sex, squirting, unprotected sex, rough sex, squirting, dom!levi, possessive!levi, creampie, choking, spit kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms

Hange is going to kill him if he keeps stealing their pencils. 

It’s the first thought that crosses Levi’s mind when a loud cracking noise is followed by something sharp jabbing into his palm, and he glances down to see the writing utensil crumble into a sad clump of shards over his page of notes. But he doesn’t mull over it long, not when he’s distracted by something he’s heard far too much of over the past few days—the sound of you giggling, followed by the door to Squad Leader Daniel Flore’s office slamming shut.

Tonight’s pencil met its earliest grave yet, the wood starting to splinter an hour ago when the mess hall cleared out, at which point Levi had begun unconsciously squeezing it in irritated anticipation of…this. 

There’s a scuffling of boots and the squeak of a chair scooting across the floor next door. But then things are relatively silent for a few moments after, and Levi looks up at the ceiling pleadingly, wondering if maybe he’ll finally get some peace tonight. But no, his hopes are quickly dashed when he hears the muffled yet unmistakable sound of you fucking moaning. 

Levi wishes he had another pencil to snap in half. 

Maybe the chair legs will have to do.

It’s not that Levi gives a shit about his fellow Survey Corps members getting laid. In fact, if it means they’re less high strung on the field, he’ll gladly set up a goddamn matchmaking booth outside of the building, if only to save himself the headache of trying to maintain order over a group of sexually frustrated idiots. Whatever it takes to make his life a little less miserable.

He’s perhaps a bit more judgemental when it comes to Squad Leaders pairing off, often shamelessly barking at them the next day not to let their “messy shit” get in the way of doing their damn jobs. Yet he generally waves it off all the same, rolling his eyes when the lovesick idiots start to realize what a bad idea it is to grapple with feelings when you’re supposed to be saving the world from man-eating Titans.

Anyway, you and Flore are both Squad Leaders. Fine. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.

Whatever.

But the real fucking issue here is the fact that Flore keeps his desk up against the wall that he shares with Levi’s office. And he’s been fucking you up against—or on top of, maybe—that stupid, shitty piece of furniture for the past three nights in a row.

Loudly.

So loudly that Levi’s not sure if Flore’s got something to prove or if he’s just downright stupid. Probably the latter, if Levi’s being honest. Either way, he’s well and truly on the verge of losing his mind at this point.

And if a tiny part of it is because he’s downright fucking baffled that you’d go barking up Flore’s tree of all people? 

Levi Ackerman is not jealous.

…he just assumed you’d have better taste.

—

Perhaps fucking Daniel Flore a mere wall away from Captain Levi’s office wasn’t quite your best decision as of late. 

And not just because of the fact that he can more than likely hear the two of you going at it like foolish teenagers, which is just asking to draw more ire from the already irritable man. 

Not just because, despite your tendency to bicker with one another like it’s your job, you actually have quite a solid working relationship with the Captain. Something you’d tentatively call friendship—and he might even be inclined to agree, on his less moody days. 

The most conflicting part of your tipsy decision that has since turned into a multi-day affair is something else entirely. Something that, in reality, shouldn’t even matter. 

…because it’s not like he’s even interested.

At one point or another, you found yourself developing feelings for Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

—but the idea of Captain Levi fucking Ackerman deigning to get down and dirty with you of all people is laughable, at best. He can hardly step out of his office without turning heads, let alone when he makes his way through town. With the reputation that he’s built for himself over the years, he could have anyone he wanted.

Flore’s nice enough. And he’s a decent kisser, you’ll give him that. But as you glance back at the brown-haired man leaning against the chair and panting, a smug grin on his face as you slip your pants back on to conclude your activities, you internally cringe at the feeling of your underwear brushing against your sad, throbbing clit.

A throbbing clit that you’ll have to sneak off to your own office down the hall to take care of yourself for the second night in a row, because while you ended your first encounter somewhat satisfied, Flore hasn’t been able to get you off since. You’ve put on enough of a show each time to leave him thinking otherwise, half convinced that maybe there’s just something wrong with you, but after tonight, you may have to rethink your arrangement.

There’s a small, well-worn couch situated in the corner of your office, which you make a beeline for after closing the door and shucking your pants off once more. The material drops onto the wooden floor in a careless heap as you slump back onto the cushions, letting your thighs fall open as you lean your head back and slowly swipe a finger over the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. 

Your folds are frustratingly dry, your fleeting thoughts of Flore doing absolutely nothing to help dampen your situation. So, also for the second night in a row…your thoughts betray you as they drift to a place you know will leave you slick and whimpering.

A vision of soft, black hair, steel gray eyes, and a familiar commanding, low voice is all it takes to encourage the sticky arousal now dripping at the apex of your thighs, a shameless little moan falling from your lips as you slide two fingers into your aching cunt.

“Have you ever considered that there are other people in the barra—”

The door to your office flies open as Levi storms in without knocking, though his barked out words are immediately cut off the moment his eyes stray to the sofa. He freezes in place, not even bothering to turn around as he slowly kicks the door shut behind him.

And it would be comical, just how many emotions are fighting their way across Levi’s normally composed face, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s now staring at you while you finger yourself because you were so desperate to get yourself off that you forgot to lock the fucking door. 

He blinks, crossing his arms. “You’re joking.”

Fingers still lodged inside of your wet heat because you can’t decide whether or not that’s less awkward than pulling them out and wiping them on the couch, you realize that you have no idea what to say. “I—”

“Was fucking like animals for forty-five minutes up against the wall beside my office not enough for you?” he deadpans.

Your face heats up in embarrassment, and you pull your eyes away from his heavy gaze, looking off to the side of the room as you subtly shift your fingers to your thigh. “That’s not exactly…I just didn’t…” you mutter, trailing off. 

Levi scoffs as he swiftly ascertains what you’re alluding to, “Don’t tell me Flore doesn’t even know how to get a woman off.”

You bristle with embarrassment over his forwardness, finally snapping your legs closed and hastily tugging a pillow over your lap. “That’s none of your business.”

“If two Squad Leaders are fucking on my watch, it’s my business to make sure your messy little relationship doesn’t end up getting us all killed in the field,” he sneers. 

“There’s no relationship. We’re not dating. It was a one time thing”

Levi doesn’t respond.

“Okay, a few-times thing,” you amend with a huff, shifting uncomfortably. 

He continues to stare at you, waiting.

“I was lonely and tired of taking care of things myself. Happy? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

His boots hardly make a sound as he takes a step closer to you and observes, “It looks like you’re still taking care of things yourself, anyway.”

You sigh heavily, “It’s slim pickings around here, Captain.”

Another step.

“So Flore was your top choice?”

Despite the fact that you’re nearly naked in front of the man who’s currently raising an eyebrow as he nudges your discarded underwear with the toe of his boot, you manage to school your features into a mask of cool indifference as you shrug, “My preferred taste is a bit more…unattainable.”

“Let me guess, Commander Erwin?” he drawls.

You can’t help the choked out laugh that escapes you at that—just how very off base his assumptions are. If nothing else, perhaps it means you’ve done a somewhat decent job at not making your crush on the Captain wholly apparent. 

“I mean, he sure does look like he’s fantastic in bed—”

“Spare me,” Levi groans.

“...but he’s just not quite short-tempered and difficult enough for my tastes,” you finish, letting your mouth quirk upward in the ghost of a smile. 

Levi’s knees bump into yours as he reaches the couch, looking down at you with his hands resting casually in his pockets. “And someone is?”

“Someone unattainable,” you concede.

Your breath hitches in your throat when Levi leans down, making a noncommittal noise as he swipes a layer of dust off of the couch’s wooden frame. Clicking his tongue against his teeth, he asks, “So…you’d rather do this,” he gently thumps a fist over the pillow in your lap, “than try and approach this someone?”

Refusing to back down from his stare, you flippantly reply, “Sometimes the fantasy ends up being better than the real thing, anyway.”

Levi’s jaw ticks, and he asks you carefully in a low tone, “And just how often do you entertain this little fantasy?”

“Every night,” you breathe out, not missing a beat.

This time, when Levi leans in, his breath is hot against the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “I can assure you the fantasy pales in comparison.” 

With that, he stands up straight and heads for the door without so much as a goodbye.

Gaping, you call out, “Captain Levi?”

His hand pauses on the doorknob, and without turning to look at you, he says cooly, “My office. Now.”

“I—”

“It’s cleaner.”

—

It’s ridiculous, the way your fingers tremble as you slip your pants back on—forgoing the underwear completely this time. On the field, you wield the dual blades at your sides with a steady, focused grip and instinctual precision that once upon a time granted you a top spot in your Training Corps class. 

And yet here you are now, caught in a battle between the stubborn button of your pants and your shaking hands, your entire goddamn axis thrown off kilter by the devastatingly handsome Captain currently waiting for you a few doors down. With a sigh, you give up, tugging your shirt down and hoping for the sake of the last charred bits of your ego that you didn’t misunderstand his invitation. 

Are you really about to go and fuck Captain Levi Ackerman?

You don’t have to ponder the question long, because you’re hardly two steps inside of Levi’s office, having slipped inside the door that he left open just a crack, when you find yourself firmly pressed up against it. 

Levi’s body is warm as he cages you in, eyes boring into your own while he reaches behind you and flicks the lock shut with an abrupt click that seems to echo throughout the room. You’re both silent for a moment, and he takes half a step back.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” 

The question catches you off guard, but you nod.

Levi inhales sharply through his nose and adds, “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you exhale quickly, already feeling more than a little breathless.

He leans in, letting his fingers ghost over your chin, his breath mingling in the vicinity of yours as he warns you softly,  “I’m not a gentle lover.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle,” you assure him, taking no small delight in the way his eyes briefly close at your affirmation.

“...and I don’t share,” he whispers, thumb skating over your lower lip.

“Neither do I,” you challenge, though you’re well aware you’re getting far too ahead of yourself with your implied request.

“I would hope not,” Levi chuckles lowly. “From now on, you come to me and only me.”

Searing heat drips through your veins, your lips parting slightly as the full weight of his words hits you. 

Levi’s lips hover over yours, so close you can nearly taste the promise on them as he murmurs, “...and you come for me. Only. Me.”

Oh.

Toes curling, it takes every ounce of restraint inside of your body to hold back the pathetically desperate whimper vibrating through you in response. The quiet, shaky “yes” that leaves you is hardly audible over the rapid beating of your heart.

But it’s all Levi needs to hear, that last exhale, before he cups your face in both hands and slots his lips against yours. 

There’s a focused, measured precision in the way Levi kisses, a push and pull in the way his mouth both guides and chases your own. With a tease of teeth along your bottom lip and a sensual dance of his tongue along the seam of your mouth, you’re caught up in a hungry, electrifying undercurrent that leaves you dizzy on the spot. 

You’ve spent more time than you’d like to admit thinking about Levi’s mouth. The delicate curve of his cupid’s bow. That restless tongue that’s always clicking against his teeth, as if it’s just waiting to be put to use elsewhere. The prominent taste of tea you could guarantee would be lingering on his lips. 

But there’s one thing you hadn’t accounted for, one thing that knocks the air from your lungs.

—it’s the way Levi murmurs your name into the kiss, the curve of each letter so sensual, his voice so rough that you know the memory of it is already irrevocably seared into your mind. 

You let yourself tangle your fingers in the silken, black strands of his hair, earning a pleased, rumbling groan in his throat in response. Pushing your luck, you tug on the locks, and the hot trail of kisses Levi’s blazing along your exposed neck is interrupted by the soft growl that leaves his throat as he bites down on your sensitive skin and begins to suck. 

The firm, solid pressure of his body against yours as you arch into him leaves you keening, and his hands drift down to grasp your hips while he presses hungry, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, as low as your partially-unbuttoned shirt will allow. You rock your hips into him, already drunk on his scalding, attentive touch, and a small moan escapes your lips when you feel the rock hard evidence of his own arousal drag against the apex of your thighs.

“Levi,” you pant out, rolling your hips once more.

He groans languidly, bringing his lips back up to yours for a chaste kiss. Fingertips skating beneath your chin, gray eyes bore into your own as he asks, “Safe word?”

Mind blanking for a moment, every single word you’ve ever known ceases to exist in the heady, addictive presence of the man before you. Your eyes land on something sitting on his desk; it’s broken to pieces but still unmistakable. 

“Pencil.”

Levi huffs out a low laugh, staring at you a little incredulously before he intones, “Tch. Fine.”

At that, he lets his hand trail down between your legs, another amused sound leaving him when he realizes you didn’t bother buttoning your pants back up before slinking into his office. 

“Eager?” he questions, only to let out a near feral noise when he notices your underwear also didn’t come along for the trip. 

All you can do is whine as he slides his hand into your pants, no small amount of satisfaction gracing his features when he feels the damp pool of arousal that’s since soaked through the material. 

“I hope this was all for me,” he observes, sliding two fingers through your slick, sensitive folds. 

You shiver, pushing into his touch, afraid that you might collapse if he doesn’t start sliding those thin, dexterous digits into your aching cunt soon. 

“You know it is,” you pant.

Your legs quake when he brushes his thumb over your swollen clit, fingertips teasing at your fluttering entrance. 

“I wonder if that’s why you couldn’t come for him,” he muses, bringing his hand up to eye level and watching the way your sticky arousal hangs between the digits. You’d whine at the loss of contact, if it weren’t for the way he sticks his fingers in his mouth and licks them clean.

His hand trails back down to your wet heat as you try to remember how to breathe, his gaze heavy as plunges two fingers into your cunt and rasps, “Because you wished it was my cock inside of you, fucking you stupid.”

Levi doesn’t wait for an answer as he begins to pump his fingers in and out of your needy hole, each thrust punctuated by the wet squelch of your gratuitous arousal. Heat spreads under your skin under his thorough exploration of your narrow, saturated channel, digits curling to meticulously stroke a spot that has you gasping his name. Your fingertips dig into his collarbone, and Levi surges forward, lips crashing into yours as he swallows your pleading moans. And for what may very well be the first time in your life, your climax takes you entirely by surprise, liquid fire whipping through your insides with the force of a raging gale.

He nips at your bottom lip while you come down from your shuddering wave of pleasure, but your fingers have barely begun to reach for his stiff length when Levi suddenly drops down to his knees in front of you. Nails dragging along your hip bones, he swiftly tugs down your pants and tosses them aside before pushing your legs further apart and burying his face between them.

Prickles of overstimulation crawl up your spine, and you let out a small sound of protest, but your core immediately turns molten again at Levi’s ragged tone as he breathes out, “One more. One more before I fuck you.”

There’s nothing calculated about the messy, hungry way he goes down on you, parting your folds to sink his tongue into your cunt, nose pressed firmly against your clit, a moan reverberating through him as he laps up every last drop of the cum that’s leaking out of you. His fingertips dig into your thighs, saliva running down his chin, and he moves to slide two fingers back inside of you while he begins to mouth at your sensitive bundle of nerves

At this point, even if Levi hadn’t made it explicitly clear that whatever this is between the two of you is very much exclusive—

…you’re not sure if anyone else could even come close. 

Reality trumps the fantasy, indeed, Captain. 

And with a firm crook of his fingers, the steaming pressure building up inside of you bursts, clear liquid spraying from your pussy and soaking Levi’s face and hand as you ride out your second orgasm.

If you thought Levi looked feral before, it’s nothing compared to the look that crosses his face as you squirt for him. “Oh fuck.”

He all but drags you over to his desk, unceremoniously swiping everything off of the surface and letting it all clatter to the floor before lifting you up—with strength that honestly shouldn’t surprise you—and placing you on its surface. Fingers aching to touch him, you grapple with his shirt, pulling it over his head while he trails his way down the remaining buttons on yours. You hardly have time to enjoy the planes of his bare chest before you, because he makes quick work of your bra, cursing under his breath at the sight and wasting no time in leaning in to taste your supple breasts. 

A small part of you almost wants to make a comment about dirtying Levi’s clean desk with the arousal you know is dripping out of you once more—you’re so fucking wet for him it’s boredline ridiculous—but all thoughts go fizzling from your mind when he latches onto your nipple and begins to suck.

“Fucking perfect,” he grunts, teeth grazing the sensitive bud. 

Unable to wait any longer to finally see what’s straining for release between his legs, you unbutton his pants, humming in satisfaction at the feeling of his deceivingly thick cock throbbing in your palm. Saliva coats your tits as he sucks more fervently in response to the way you’ve begun to stroke his length, your other hand tangling in his hair.

“Stop.”

You freeze at the command in his tone, waiting as he pushes down his pants and underwear, kicking them out of the way before stepping closer between your legs. 

“Next time,” he amends gently, leaning in to graze his teeth along the shell of your ear, lips and tongue pressing into the tender skin behind your earlobe. “Because I might very well lose my mind if I don’t fuck you right now.”

You exhale, muscles aching with anticipation. “Please, Levi.”

He pushes your thighs apart, swiping his fingers through your arousal and using it to coat his shaft before notching its reddened, leaking head at your entrance. And remembering your earlier words about just how you like it, there’s no warning when Levi plunges his throbbing cock into your slick, wet cunt, plastering his mouth onto yours to swallow down each delicious moan that echoes out of you as he splits you open.

There’s nothing gentle about the way Levi fucks you, sweaty hair plastered against his forehead as he revels in the warmth of your tight cunt with each snap of his hips, every thrust deeper than the last. The push and drag of his fat cock has you whining and moaning so loud your throat begins to burn, satisfaction curling in your gut at the mirroring sound that leaves him when you roughly pull on his hair.

Belatedly—too distracted by your lust-fuelled frenzy—you realize that smacking flesh and needy, desperate noises aren’t the only sounds echoing throughout the room. With each punishing snap of his hips, as Levi stuffs you full of his cock over and over, his desk violently smacks into the wall.

The wall that Flore is very likely currently sitting on the other side of at his own desk.

You tell Levi as much, and he makes no effort to slow down as he growls, “I don’t fucking care.”

And well, maybe it’s a little fucked up.

But given that the object of years worth of your wet dreams is currently balls deep inside of you and groaning your name repeatedly, you can’t bring yourself to give a shit, either.

So instead, you whimper, “Harder, Levi. Please.”

Hands trail along your throat, and Levi meets your gaze. You nod, and he tightens his grip, your dwindling airflow setting your nerves alight with pleasure. Your legs wrap around his waist, the balls of your feet pressing into the small of his back, and as he continues to choke you, your tight cunt chokes the width of his cock in equal measure.

It feels so fucking good that tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and your chest aches from the heaving, panting breaths you repeatedly continue to demand of it. The pressure on your throat lessens, and you feel Levi’s hand come up to cup your chin, his thumb pulling down on your bottom lip.

Though it’s only one word, you know he feels just as wrecked as you by his low, rough tone as rasps, “Open.”

You part your lips, and Levi leans in, spitting in your mouth. He feels the way your cunt clenches down on him in response, so after you swallow, unconsciously letting your lips fall back open, he spits again. 

In turn, you grab him by the hair and pull him in for a filthy kiss. Levi’s mouth devours yours as he grabs you by the throat again, moaning against your lips, “Good girl.”

The ache between your thighs blooms red hot, the coil of pleasure twisting in your gut unfurling so rapidly your vision goes white as you come hard, gushing around the stretch of Levi’s cock. He chases your lips as you throw your head back in pleasure, kissing you hard while he drives his length deep into you one last time to the hilt, hips jerking as he empties himself inside of you.

You let your body fall against his as you both come down from your climaxes, breathing heavily. Levi begins to rub soothing circles against your back, callused fingertips skating across your smooth skin, the gesture an amusingly stark contrast to how brazenly he just fucked you. When he pulls out of you, thick cum leaks from between your thighs, making a mess of his desk. 

And for once, it’s a mess that Levi Ackerman doesn’t mind.

Instead, he cups your cheek in one hand, a glint in his eyes as he murmurs, “I think I can get four out of you next time.”

Your eyes widen, laughter bubbling up in your chest as you lean in, lips ghosting over his as you retort, “Cocky bastard.”

Tongue clicking against his teeth, he rolls his eyes and mutters, “Brat,” kissing you again.

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ Not everybody takes time to appreciate the holidays, it seems. Damian’s brow furrows as he inspects your arm. “You were…” “Awesome?” “Reckless.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: nada wc: 3.2k

totally forgot to mention this last chapter, but this fic now has an official playlist!

It takes some convincing from Damian and Jon for them to let you go back to work. Jon says you shouldn’t be back so soon after getting shot. You tell him that your body is fine and ready to go, and also remind him that one of the first things you did when you were better was spar with the whole damn Batfamily. He looks properly sheepish after being chastised.

Damian says that you don’t need the job anymore, since you live with his family now. You tease him, asking if you technically classify as his sugar baby. He scoffs, turning away. It gets him off your case.

Sam damn near jumps over the counter to get to you when they see you walk in. “[Name]!”

At Sam’s shout, Carrie and Garrett pop their heads out from the back. Carrie’s face lights up, smile lines showing as she rushes over to join you and Sam’s hug. Garrett lets one of his rare smiles show, patting your head.

“You shouldn’t be back so soon,” frowns Carrie, pulling back.

You would lift up your shirt to show that you were fine, but she’s right, you shouldn’t be back so soon. A bullet wound on a normal person wouldn’t be completely healed just yet, but, you know, super healing. You’ve been left with a very faint scar. Jon spent his time tracing it, eyes hard and lidded. It gave you goosebumps when his fingers would pass over it.

You wave them off, laughing softly at their concern. "I'm fine, guys, really. It's good to be back."

Sam eyes you skeptically, arms crossed. "You better take it easy, though. We can handle things here."

Carrie nods in agreement, though she's smiling. "Just don't overdo it. We were worried sick about you."

Garrett gives you a nod of approval, his expression serious yet supportive. "Glad to see you're up and about, [Name]. Take care of yourself."

You promise them you will, appreciating their concern and warmth. Sam ushers you behind the counter, immediately putting you to (light) work, much to your amusement.

"So, spill," Sam insists, leaning in conspiratorially. "What happened?”

“What do you mean?” you ask as you organize some sugar packets.

“Dude, Robin and Superboy literally hauled your ass out of here.”

“They just took me to the hospital, Sam,” you sigh. “I got shot, it was pretty urgent.” Shoving a pastry in Sam's mouth, you push past them to ready the coffee makers. “In other news, I moved in with my future rich spouse.” It’s a way to distract them from questioning too much.

Predictably, Sam chokes on the bun. “What!? Hold on, back up a minute, when did you start dating somebody?”

“It was a joke, we’re just friends,” you chuckle. “He’s a huge worrywart and refused to let me go back to my apartment. Could barely walk out of the front door this morning. Said I didn’t even need this job anymore, basically said he’d take care of me.” He didn’t really, but whatever. “Isn’t he sweet?”

“So you’re telling me he basically said you can be the rich trophy partner? Why the hell are you here then?” Sam deadpans.

You match their expression. “Wow. Nice to know I was missed.”

Sam rolls their eyes. “You’re impossible. Who’s the guy anyway?”

“Damian Wayne.”

Sam blinks. Once. Twice. “Can you repeat that? I could’ve sworn you said Damian Wayne. Son of Bruce Wayne. Heir to Wayne Enterprises.”

You huff, placing a hand on your hip as their brain fumbles. “Dude, you bagged the big one. Holy shit, I didn’t know you could pull like that.”

“I told you, we’re just friends.”

“I thought he was, like, stuck up, or something. Cold ice prince type.”

You feel the need to defend Damian’s honor, even if Sam has no true ire towards him. “He’s nice. A good friend. He’s just… awkward.”

Sam takes time to look at you, a brow raised. You hope they're not doing that thing when they just look at you and know all of your secrets. Eventually they hum, dropping it.

“...You think you can ask his dad to pay my tuition–”

Tonight marks your first official patrol with the Batfamily. You're already suited up, crouched on the ledge of a rooftop with Damian. His cape billows in the wind. The city below is alive with lights and sounds, a symphony of Gotham’s nighttime pulse. You adjust your stance, feeling the adrenaline start to course through your veins. Damian is focused, his eyes scanning the streets for any sign of trouble.

"Keep your eyes sharp," Damian says, his voice a low murmur. "Gotham's quiet tonight, but that can change in an instant."

You nod, your own senses heightened, every sound amplified in the quiet of the rooftop. The tension in the air is palpable, a reminder of the city's ever-present dangers.

Damian glances at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You ready for this?"

“Been ready, are you?” you challenge with a smile.

Suddenly, a voice speaks into your ear. It's Barbara. "We've got a situation near downtown. Reports of a robbery in progress."

Damian tenses, his eyes narrowing. "Let's move."

You both leap from the rooftop, descending into the city's shadows. The thrill of the chase ignites your senses as you navigate the rooftops with practiced ease. Damian is a blur of motion beside you, his movements precise and controlled.

Your arm muscles tense and release with every web swing. You take time to twirl and flip around Damian in an elegant dance as he swings with his grappling hook. The two of you move around each other in synchronized harmony.

As you near the location of the robbery, you spot the scene from above. A group of masked men are trying to break into a high-end jewelry store. The glass is shattered, and the alarm is blaring. Damian signals for you to flank them from opposite sides.

You land silently behind a dumpster, observing the thieves as they hurriedly shove jewelry into bags. Damian moves in from the other side, his presence a shadow in the night. You wait for his signal, your muscles coiled like springs.

With a sharp nod from Damian, you spring into action. You leap out, webbing one of the thugs to the ground before he even realizes what’s happening. Damian disarms another with a swift kick, his movements fluid and efficient.

The remaining thieves scramble, but they're no match for the two of you. You dart between them, your webbing and acrobatics keeping them off balance. Damian is a blur of motion, his strikes precise and powerful. Within moments, the robbers are subdued, webbed up and disarmed.

Damian steps back, catching his breath. "Nice work," he says, his tone grudgingly approving.

"Were you practicing those moves to impress me?” you ask cheekily.

“Why, were you watching me?”

“I just can’t take my eyes off of you,” you sigh dramatically.”

“Stop flirting, losers,” Stephanie teases on the comms.

Just as you're about to talk back, a low rumble echoes through the alley. The ground shakes slightly, and you exchange a wary glance with Damian. A nearby manhole cover bursts open, and a hulking figure emerges from the sewers. It's Killer Croc, his massive form towering over you both. What the hell.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Croc growls, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

You throw up your hands. “Come on man, I wanted an easy night.”

Croc advances with heavy footsteps, his massive claws glinting in the dim light. Guess he’s not in the mood for chit-chat. Croc chuckles, the sound sending a chill down your spine. "Think you can stop me, little bats?" His voice reverberates through the space, filling the space with menace.

“I am not a bat,” you mutter. “Only in spirit I guess." Killer Croc has a similar demeanor to that of Rhino, at least in terms of size. You’ve dealt with more than enough of them to be well equipped to deal with this situation.

You exchange a quick nod with Damian, silently communicating your plan. "Let's do this," he says, his voice low but determined.

Without hesitation, you both spring into action. Damian charges forward, engaging Croc head-on with a series of lightning-fast strikes and evasive maneuvers. Meanwhile, you use your agility and webs to dart around Croc, aiming to distract and disorient him.

Croc swings a massive fist, aiming for Damian, who narrowly dodges and counters with a precise kick to the knee. You take advantage of the opening, firing webbing at Croc's arms, aiming to restrict his movements. The webs hold momentarily before Croc tears through them with brute force. Boo.

"Keep him distracted!" Damian calls out, his voice cutting through the chaos.

You nod, focusing on keeping Croc off balance while Damian assesses the situation. With each move, you gauge Croc's reactions, looking for vulnerabilities to exploit. His strength is immense, and you start to hope this won’t take long. You’d like to get a decent rest tonight.

Damian maneuvers around Croc, striking with calculated precision. His training and experience shine through as he lands blows with pinpoint accuracy, each one aimed at weakening Croc's defenses. You watch in awe, both of Damian's skill and the sheer determination in his eyes.

As the fight wears on, Croc becomes more aggressive, his attacks growing wilder and more unpredictable. You dart in and out, using the environment to your advantage, hoping to find an opening. It's a dangerous dance, the alley echoing with the sounds of combat and the occasional growl from Croc.

Croc is getting overwhelmed, which means he’ll get desperate. His eyes keep darting to the window. He’s gonna try to escape, shit.

He shoves Damian to the side with his arm. For a split second, you want to make sure he’s alright, but you know he is. Trust that he is. You seize an opportunity to leap onto Croc's back as he charges out of the alley and onto the street. The sudden movement sends pedestrians scattering, and cars screech to a halt to avoid the monstrous figure rampaging through the city. You wrap his shoulders, providing you some extra distance from him as he tries to reach for you. He bucks and twists as he runs, trying to shake you off.

Croc flips up cars as he runs. Your claws dig into his shoulders as you steer him out of people's way the best you can, while simultaneously trying not to get thrown off. People scream and flee as cars swerve to avoid the chaos. With each passing moment, your muscles strain under the weight and movement of the monstrous villain.

“Should you be on vacation or something? It’s the holidays! Take a day off, Christ,” you grumble.

Croc chuckles dangerously. “Hang on tight, not-bat.”

It’s your only warning (aside from your senses screaming at you to get out of the way. Too bad you can’t) as Croc makes a superhuman leap, crashing straight through a window of Gotham Mall. Your suit protects you from the glass as it crashes down around you. Shoppers scream and scatter as the massive creature barrels through the aisles, sending displays and merchandise flying.

“Do you have any non-destructive hobbies?” you huff, dodging his grabby hands. Croc cuts a corner narrowly, slamming you slightly into a wall.

“Swimming. In the sewers.”

“Well, of course, where else?” Oh shit, there’s a baby in the way! You throw a web from each wrist, pulling yourself over to the stroller. You pick it up and narrowly move it out of Killer Croc’s way, putting it down next to the mother and quickly webbing yourself back onto Croc.

“Thank you!” the mother cries.

“You’re welcome!” is all you can say before your web pulls you back onto Croc. You curl your hand into a tight fist and hit him right in his head as you return. Croc staggers from the force of your punch, shaking his head as he attempts to regain his bearings. His momentum slows, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“Spinnerette, report,” Bruce asserts in your ear.

“Uh, Killer Croc’s rampaging in Gotham Mall. Trying to minimize the damage,” you breathe, dodging another swipe from Croc. 

The noise of glass shattering and displays being knocked over is deafening. You hear Damian's voice cut through the chaos over the comms, “I’m en route. Hang tight.”

You cling tighter to Croc, using your agility to stay out of his reach as he wreaks havoc through the mall. “Yeah, hanging tight is kind of the plan,” you mutter, half to yourself.

You web his face, causing him to growl in frustration. Croc has a thick hide as protection, so your fangs won’t be able to pierce him. Your venom is useless here, which sucks because it would’ve been really nice to have in this situation.

Okay, you’re on the third floor of the mall, since the bastard jumped real high. How can you trap him? His advantage is his strength, so you need to restrain him so that he can’t use it. The whirring of a grappling hook catches your attention. Looking behind you, you see Damian swinging over to you, surprisingly gaining speed.

You spray a web towards him, catching him by the chest. Damian grips it as you pull him towards you. He lands with ease on top of Croc’s back. Croc's roar of frustration reverberates through the mall as Damian joins you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you quip.

"Thought you could use a hand," Damian replies, his eyes never leaving Croc.

You grab his hands and wrap them around the makeshift web reins you had attached to Croc. “She–” you tap the ring you gifted him you know is under his glove, “–will tell you what to do. Don’t let him hurt anybody.”

Damian tries to catch your hand as you swing away, but you’re too quick for him. You gain speed, swinging ahead and away from Croc. “Tell me where a big glass window I can crash through is, K.”

“Take a left here.”

You swerve to the left. You can hear the commotion behind you as Croc thrashes and roars, but you focus on finding an exit point.

“Straight ahead.”

There. A large window overlooking the city. You see other buildings sparking with lights. Bracing yourself, you send yourself hurling into it. The glass shatters as you crash through it, arms out in front of you to protect yourself. Screams of people fade away behind you as you fall into the air. You’re lucky, there’s an intersection below you.

You swing onto a nearby lightpost. “I need the biggest and stickiest web you got, K.” You launch off and aim your hands in the middle of the intersection.

“Certainly, but it won’t be big enough for Killer Croc,” she says as a good and proper spider web slinks out and attaches to nearby light posts and buildings. The spiral pattern doesn’t extend to the radius of the web. “You’ll need to spin the rest of the web yourself.”

Bouncing off the center of the web, you start spinning the web across the intersection. The web begins to take shape, forming a large, intricate net that spans the entire intersection. Civilians look up in awe at your work. 

“Spinner!”

You look over as you hop across the web to see Nightwing grappling over. “Get the civvies out of here!”

He pauses, then nods. He swings down, quickly directing people away from the intersection to safety. He enforces power into his words, arms gesturing for them to go.

“Robin and Killer Croc are approaching.”

Using the web as momentum, you launch yourself and spray a web onto the ledge from which you jumped off. Climbing up, you stare down the large hallway of the mall. Croc is running straight towards you. He hasn’t thrown Damian off yet, so that’s good.

“Come on! I’m right here!”

“What are you doing–” hisses Damian in the comms.

Killer Croc growls, charging at you. His steps are thundering, echoing in the mall.

You brace yourself, waiting for the right moment. Croc lunges forward with a roar, his massive form barreling towards you. You time your move perfectly, leaping to the side just as Croc lunges out of the window space. You grip Damian’s cape, tugging him off of Croc as he begins to fall. The web bounces up and down as he lands in the center, trapped.

You pat Damian’s shoulder before jumping off the ledge after him. More webs spray from your wrist as you restrain Crocs arms to the web. You ignore his curses and yells as you struggles against your trap. It’s no use, the web holds firm.

“Holy cow,” whistles Dick, walking over. He reaches out to poke the web, but you snatch his hand away.

“Do that and we’d have to amputate you. It’s really sticky,” you frown solemnly. You’re joking of course.

Dick pulls his hand away, holding both of them up and a surrender gesture. “Okay, okay, I won't touch it,” Dick says with a grin, clearly amused. He looks around at the chaos in the mall, where people are cautiously peeking out from hiding places or rushing to leave.

“You know, you’ve certainly made a mess,” he comments, gesturing to the shattered glass and displaced merchandise around you.

“Actually, I think I’ve done worse.”

“Guess you’re fitting right in,” Dick remarks, his tone light but approving.

“Have I earned my rite of passage?” you smirk.

“Maybe if you can survive a month without causing a city-wide panic,” he teases, flashing you a grin.

Damian lands gracefully behind you, his cape billowing dramatically behind him. He surveys the scene with a critical eye, his expression serious and focused. You can tell he eyes Croc’s trapped form before he hurries over to you.

You hear the sirens of Gotham’s police force wail closer. “Always late to the party, it seems,” you hum, pursing your lips. You groan and flex your shoulder, still tingling from your little wall slam earlier.

“I’ll take it from here,” Dick reassures as the cop cars come to a stop near the scene. “You crazy kids go.”

Damian seems to have no qualms about that, since he grabs your hand and tugs you away. You let him drag you around, swinging with him as he grapples away. You swing through the night with Damian, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Coming to a stop on a rooftop, Damian’s hand runs down your arm, squeezing gently. “Are you hurt?” he asks gently.

“A little bruised, but I’ll be okay.” Your arm tingles under his touch. You chalk it off as pain.

Damian’s brow furrows as he inspects your arm. “You were…”

“Awesome?”

“Reckless.”

You catch his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I knew what I was doing, birdie.” He sighs, a mixture of relief and frustration evident in his voice. “I know, I know,” you reply softly, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “But I’m here, and I’m fine.”

He meets your gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You handled yourself well back there.” The moment lingers between you, the adrenaline of the night’s events slowly fading into a quiet calm. Damian’s thumb strokes over your hand, a silent gesture of reassurance and gratitude.

Damian holds your hand tight as he guides you home.

The next day, Spinnerette is trending.

notes: short chapter because its really just a filler but next one is gonna pop off i PROMISe

also, i hope i captured killer croc correctly? have literally never watched or read anything with him in it so im SO sorry if he is nothing like how he is supposed to be

also i straight up yoinked this scene from Spider-Man: Miles Morales, just replaced rhino with croc.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

I think it's really funny that most of my issues w dp×dc fics would be immediately resolved if they were about Dan instead of Danny

(No hate to any fics that do these things btw I am just so so picky)

Jack and Maddie being awful irredeemable people? Not a risk if the fic is about Dan since he doesn't associate with them. If he did catch their ire (pre-agit) he probably genuinely did kill and replace Danny like some write the Fenton's believing

Ooc Danny who's too violent and fine with murder? That'd work wonderfully with Dan

I don't mind it but I don't care for ghost king Danny. However ghost king Dan honestly isn't that much of a leap considering he does canonically have Fright Knight working for him

-OP because he's ghost king Danny, Dan already canonically can make his own ghost portals, and could make himself appear on Valerie's watch and presumably other tech, and can duplicate, and electrocute, so on and so forth

Going to a Wayne Gala or whatever with Vlad? Works well with Danny but works incredibly well with Dan

Anyway basically what im saying here is I want to read Dan fics all the time

Bonuses, that I think are cool rather than being related to my grievances

Dan can look like his 14yr human and ghost self. And I still choose to believe he can look like his true self (as well as being able to appear as 24yr human Danny 🤔)

Honestly I don't think Dan would bother with a human identity unless forced. Maybe he needs to stay in it for an amount of time in order to stay grounded and not cease to exist bc his timeline is gone

If in the same dimension, Dan could easily know all the heroes identities, at least, know their real faces. He probably unmasked them after killing them just to see

I tend to imagine the JL w this one but Dan AND Danny being in DC is great too. I wonder how they'd explain the Dan situation. Dan could just say he's from an erased timeline. Or see how long he can convince others he's Danny's older brother or father or uncle or something

I think a plot could either be Dan just being a dramatic smug bastard OR Dan slowly learning how to heal and accept his emotions and let others in his life and become better for the people around him even if unintentionally. Or both. Especially both.Imagine.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

i think that anon said the incest thing so you would respond "seriously". that being said, i feel like some people drop in your ask and don't realize as they type something out, that they're asking you for permission. They basically said "is it ok" and idk i guess they want you to hold their hand and explicitly say "yes everything is ok" ngl i've had one or two times when I want to jump in an askbox and say something similar about a take/theory but i usually realize as i type something out that i don't need permission for that

anyway, thanks for your batman takes and sex advice, it's really helpful :)

hi I'm just responding to idea you've presented here, none of what I'm saying is ire AT YOU

I do feel that people perhaps like... underestimate the degree to which I am serious about "do whatever you want forever," because I actually am pretty invested in that as it pertains to sex and pleasure and bodily autonomy. telling people that they can do whatever absolutely harmless thing they like when they jack off is a serious answer.

you're absolutely correct that most people are deeply permission-seeking, especially in matters of sex. I've been at this for nine years, and a vast percentage of the questions I get can be boiled down to people needing very badly to be told that there's nothing sick or wrong about them for being the way they are. and I'm very happy to tell people that all day, every day! it's very human to need that reassurance and giving it is such an easy thing to do! but I will admit to being a little peeved by someone rocking up to my inbox seeking validation only to immediately follow it with "no, don't tell me it's fine the way you tell everyone else it's fine. tell me it's fine DIFFERENTLY because I don't like the way you tell other people." like. come on.

also good on you for being cognizant of when it's not necessary to seek out someone else's approval! that's growth!

[daitranscripts]

Iron Bull Conversation: Investigate

Let's Talk About Being Qunari

Iron Bull Masterpost

PC: There are few here who understand what it means to be Qunari.

Iron Bull: You’re not Qunari. You’re Tal-Vashoth. World of difference.

Dialogue options:

General: I’m proud of it. [1]

General: I wish I’d known the Qun. [2]

General: I’m still different. [3]

1 - General: I’m proud of it. PC: My parents raised me to be free. I’m grateful to them. Iron Bull: Fine. Their call. [4]

2 - General: I wish I’d known the Qun.\ PC: My parents were wrong to make that decision for me. Iron Bull: If they hadn’t, they wouldn’t have been your parents. You’d have grown up with the tamassarans. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now. You’ve got too much personality to make a good Qunari. [4]

3 - General: I’m still different. PC: I still grew up looking like this in a world of mostly humans. Iron Bull: Yeah, fair enough. [4]

4 - Scene continues.

Iron Bull: You didn’t turn into a murdering bandit, so I guess we’re fine. You want to know anything about the Qunari, since we’re talking about them?

5 - Dialogue options:

General: What does “Qunari” mean? [6]

Investigate: What’s wrong with Tal-Vashoth? [7]

Investigate: How do they govern? [8]

Investigate: Do you not marry? [9]

Investigate: Day-to-day life. [10]

Investigate: How is it growing up? [11]

Investigate: And if Thedas fell to the Qun? [12]

General: Goodbye. [13]

6 - General: What does “Qunari” mean? PC: The word “Qunari”—does it mean what we are, the race, or is it anyone who follows the Qun? Iron Bull: Depends on who you ask. Are you Qunari or Tal-Vashoth? The humans and elves who follow the Qun are the viddathari. The Qunari who break away from the Qun are Tal-Vashoth. Deserters.

Dialogue options:

Special: And those who predate the Qun? [14]

[Back to 5]

14 - Special: And those who predate the Qun? PC: What about Qunari who existed before the Qun? Iron Bull: The people we came from… they’re called the kossith. But we don’t use that word for the race. We came south to Thedas because the kossith were… I don’t know. We had to leave. The stories aren’t clear. But I don’t expect that they look much like us, whatever they are. [back to 5]

7 - Investigate: What’s wrong with Tal-Vashoth? PC: What’s your problem with Tal-Vashoth? Iron Bull: As Ben-Hassrath, my job back home was keeping the peace, helping people live by the Qun. Tal-Vashoth turned their back on all that, decided they’d rather live like savages. The Qun isn’t perfect, but at least there’s some sense to it.

Dialogue options:

General: My parents weren’t savages. [15]

General: The Qun offers no choice. [16]

General: That’s a good point. [17]

15 - General: My parents weren’t savages. PC: Well, good. They aren’t the kind of Tal-Vashoth I’ve got a problem with, then. [18] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 16 - General: The Qun offers no choice. PC: Qunari society gives its people no guidelines on how to live without following the Qun. Of course most of them turn into lawless bandits once they break away from it. Iron Bull: Just ‘cause I understand it doesn’t make it right. They could have stayed, tried to change the Qunari from within. Instead, they gave up everything they had. [18] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 17 - General: That’s a good point. PC: I hadn’t thought of it that way. Iron Bull: I got to see the results up close. They weren’t pretty. [18] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 18 - Scene continues. Iron Bull: Look, if you’re worried I’m going to attack you, don’t be. I had a lifetime of fighting Tal-Vashoth. You’re not the kind I hate. [back to 5]

8 - Investigate: How do they govern? PC: How do the Qunari rule themselves? Iron Bull: It’s pretty simple. We’ve got the matriarchy, the priesthood, and the military. The priesthood figures out how Qunari should live in theory. The matriarchy makes it work in practice… And the military keeps the Qunari safe from outside threats.

Dialogue options:

Special: Is there much dissent? [19]

[Back to 5]

19 - Special: Is there much dissent? PC: Does it actually work like that? Is there much infighting? Iron Bull: Not like you’re thinking of. People disagree, yeah, but the priests are there to solve disagreements. Here in Orlais, politicking comes from people putting their own gain ahead of the gains of society. If you do that among the Qunari, the Ben-Hassrath set you straight. Or kill you. [back to 5]

9 - Investigate: Do you not marry? PC: I heard there’s no marriage among the Qunari. Iron Bull: Yeah, that’s true. Qunari love our friends like anyone does, but we don’t have sex with them. PC: Qunari don’t have sex? Iron Bull: Oh, we definitely have sex. There are tamassrans who pop your cork whenever you need it.

Dialogue options:

Special: What, really? [20]

[Back to 5]

20 - Special: What, really? PC: Seriously? Iron Bull: Yeah. It’s not a big deal like it is here. It’s like… I don’t know, going to see a healer? Sometimes it’s this long involved thing. It takes all day, leaves you walking funny… Other times, you’re in and out in five minutes. (Clicks tongue.) “Thank you, see you next week!”

Dialogue options:

Flirt: You don’t know true passion? [21]

General: I don’t know what to say. [22]

General: That’s bizarre. [23]

General: Sounds great. [24]

21 - Flirt: You don’t know true passion? PC: So you’ve never really made love? Connected with someone in both body and soul? Iron Bull: I don’t know. One time they used this thing called the saartoh nehrappan. It’s a leather-wrapped rod on a harness… That wasn’t really my soul, though. Also, there were more than two people. [back to 5] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 22 - General: I don’t know what to say. PC: That sounds… different. Iron Bull: Yep. [25] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 23 - General: That’s bizarre. PC: Sometimes I think I understand how different the Qunari are… and then I talk to you. Iron Bull: Yep. [25] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 24 - General: Sounds great. PC: I could work with that. Iron Bull: I know, right? No drama. [25] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 25 - Scene continues. ㅤㅤ ㅤ Iron Bull: Still, it’s more fun here. Fewer rituals, more making it up as you go along. Plus, you folk have redheads. (Sighs.) Redheads. [back to 5]

10 - Investigate: Day-to-day life. PC: How is everyday life different for Qunari? Iron Bull: Depends on your job, I guess. Some are just about the same. A baker in Val Royeaux gets up, gets dressed, and starts work. A baker in Par Vollen does the same thing. They don’t care about the empire or the Qun. Mostly, they worry about breaking eggs and hope the dough rises right.

Dialogue options:

Special: Except that baker isn’t free. [26]

[Back to 5]

26 - Special: Except that baker isn’t free. PC: It can’t be exactly the same. The Qunari have no personal freedoms. Iron Bull: How many personal freedoms do you figure that baker in Val Royeaux has? Life isn’t about freedom. The baker in Par Vollen wonders if she’ll be given enough eggs to do her work. Will they come on time? Will the kitchen workers get her bread while it’s fresh, or will they come late and blame her ’cause it’s stale? Same crap in Val Royeaux. People are just people. [back to 5]

11 - Investigate: How is it growing up? PC: What’s it like growing up under the Qun? Iron Bull: The tamassrans raise us in these units of kids all our own age. They’re like teachers or Chantry sisters. They also help figure out what jobs we should do. They had me pegged for military work early on. When they learned I could hit stuff and lie, they started training me for the Ben-Hassrath.

Dialogue options:

General: So no families? [27]

General: You didn’t choose your job? [28]

General: You must have been proud. [29] +Iron Bull slightly approves

27 - General: So no families? PC: ou never knew your parents? Iron Bull: Nope. I know, for you folks, that’s a big deal. The tamassrans were like our parents, though. Taught us to read, helped us go to sleep, all the parent stuff. I remember the one who helped me build things with blocks. She laughed when I knocked everything down. [back to 5] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 28 - General: You didn’t choose your job? PC: So the Qun decided what work you would do? You didn’t get a choice? Iron Bull: I could’ve acted like I didn’t like hitting things, I guess. But why would I do that? I was good at my work. I liked doing it. Far as I can tell, the tamassrans made the right call. [back to 5] ㅤㅤ ㅤ 29 - General: You must have been proud. PC: That must have been a good day for you. Iron Bull: Yeah. It’s like being a block of stone with a sculptor working on you. One day, the last of the crap gets knocked off, and you can see your real shape, what you’re supposed to be. That’s a good day. [back to 5]

12 - Investigate: And if Thedas fell to the Qun? PC: Do you ever think about what would happen if the Qunari conquered Orlais or Ferelden? Iron Bull: Some folks, like Cassandra or Cullen, would do fine… if they didn’t die fighting. Those two love rules. But the mages…

Iron Bull (Vivienne and Dorian recruited): Vivienne’s too political, Dorian’s too arrogant, and Solas is just weird. They’d all end up dead… or worse.

Iron Bull (Dorian recruited, Vivienne not recruited): Can you imagine Solas trying his Fade-dreaming under the Qun? Or Dorian thinking of someone besides himself?

Iron Bull(Vivienne recruited, Dorian not recruited): Can you imagine Solas trying his Fade-dreaming under the Qun? Or Vivienne doing her political bullshit?

Iron Bull (Vivienne and Dorian not recruited): Look at Solas. All that wandering in the Fade? They’d at least kill him.

Iron Bull (Cole and Sera recruited): They’d kill Cole, ’cause, you know, demon. And Sera would end up with her mind broken, sweeping floors in some shop.

Iron Bull (Cole recruited, Sera not recruited): They’d kill Cole, ’cause, you know, demon. And Varric would mouth off one too many times, get reeducated by force.

Iron Bull (Sera recruited, Cole not recruited): Both Sera and Varric would mouth off until they ended up reeducated–drugged until their minds broke.

Iron Bull (Cole and Sera not recruited): Varric’s tall tales would land him a reeducation prison, drugged until his mind broke.

Iron Bull: So, to answer your question: no, I don’t think about it much at all. [back to 5]

13 - General: Goodbye. PC: See you later, Bull.

[29121996]

OH HOLD THE FUCKUP

[fruitcoops]

If you wanted to write grumpy logan and finn/leo lovingly making fun of him until logan is no longer grumpy, you would do it so well and I would love it

Fic O'Ween Day 7: Pumpkin Spice, for the Cubs :) Kudos and thanks to @noots-fic-fests and @lumosinlove for fest details and characters!

“You’re so cute when you’re grumpy,” Leo hummed, nuzzling into the soft fluff of curls above Logan’s ear. A wordless grumble answered him and he smiled. “Like a kitten, getting all puffed up.”

“—fucking—taxes, mon dieu—”

Cranky French interspersed the muttered undercurrent. Leo wasn’t worried; Logan got loud and direct when he was angry. This was nothing more than the usual fussiness. “I made muffins.”

“—witchcraft fuckery—”

“With cranberries,” he coaxed.

Logan aggressively scribbled out a line on his notepad, but Leo felt him lean closer.

“You’ve been here for two hours, cher.”

He pressed a flat palm between Logan’s shoulders, rubbing gently over the tight muscle and warm skin beneath his shirt. It was one of Finn’s, he thought—a faded thing from the Strand in the pretty red that made his eyes pop. It might have been a gift from some point in their college years, but that was unlikely. Logan had always preferred petty theft from their closets to actually owning anything he liked.

Logan groaned under his breath and pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I’m going to commit felonies against the IRS.”

“Very American of you.”

“Get out of my apartment.”

“It was my apartment first,” Leo smiled into his temple, and sealed it with a kiss. “C’mon. Muffin time. You’re hangry.”

“It’s not my fault you can’t do your own taxes.”

“I can. It’s just that I have a boyfriend who offers to do them for me.”

Logan snorted. “Do you?”

“Mhmm.” He wrapped his arms around Logan from behind, bending slightly. “He’s real smart, too. Capable. Knows how to do math.”

“What a dreamboat,” Logan deadpanned.

“Yeah, you got it.” He was still tense in Leo’s hold, but it softened when Leo pulled his hat off and kissed the top of his head. “I have a thing for nerds.”

“Boo. Go away, I need to finish this.”

“You’re sure you don’t want a muffin? They’re still warm.”

“Not hungry.”

Liar, liar. “Alright. More for me, then.” He nipped the shell of Logan’s ear. “I’ll tell Harzy he’s got free reign.”

“Fine, whatever.”

Leo rolled his eyes and hoped Logan felt it. “Taxes aren’t due until April, baby.”

Logan’s pen gave a prompt clack. “Ouais, and if I put it off until then, you won’t see me for four days. Let me drown in my spreadsheets, please.”

“Whatever makes you happy.”

Logan grumbled something like never makes me happy, but if he wanted to continue making himself miserable, Leo couldn’t really stop him. He had already offered muffins; what more could he do?

He had only partially been telling the truth, anyway. One batch of the muffins was done. It was just that he tended to get excited when fall hit, and ravenous when hockey season started, and every recipe spontaneously doubled in his hands like a cornucopian miracle. Some people kept special daylight lamps around. Leo had a five-pound bag of Craisins and a free afternoon to go absolutely ham with the last bit of sunlight energy he could throttle from October. They all had their own methods of dealing with it.

He only burnt his fingertips a little while prying a muffin from the tin and popping it into his mouth in one bite, and considered that a win.

An hour passed without much change. Leo measured, Logan worked. Leo mixed, Logan groused. Leo doled out batter to (perfectly-lined) muffin tins, Logan scribbled away at his notepad and beat Google Calendar into submission. Finally, as the third tray went in, Leo watched him stand with a groan worthy of an octogenarian and wander stiffly down their short hallway. He smiled to himself and set the oven timer. The work would be done soon enough. If he popped a show on and got comfortable on the couch, he might even be able to tempt Logan away from his numbers into a pre-dinner snuggle.

Whistling echoed from the hall outside, followed by the jingle of keys. Finn was already kicking his shoes off when the door opened, clicking his tongue to the rhythm of whatever played in his earbuds. His face brightened when he saw Leo. “Sup, Butter?”

“Heads up.” A muffin sailed through the air and Finn caught it, barely. “Tremzy’s cheating on me.”

“Wh—” Finn gave a hard blink and glanced over his shoulder. “Is this—I’m going to walk out and come back in again. Wrong apartment. Sorry, cheating? Logan Tremblay? Are we talking about the same person? If you’re talking about me, I’ve made sure that joke is overdone.”

“Her name is Microsoft Excel, and she’s got to be stopped.”

“Oh.” Finn’s bafflement became a regretful nod as he joined Leo by the sink. “His first love. I see the problem.”

“He turned down muffins.”

“Damn, this guy sounds lame. Need a new boyfriend?”

Leo kissed his sideways grin and flipped the water on. “Not currently looking to fill that position, but I’ll keep you at the top of my list.”

Finn’s arms folded around his waist and gave a gentle squish. “You should let me do that, babe.”

“Just rinsing.”

“Hmm.” He felt a kiss through his shirt. “Been cooking all day?”

“Mostly. Reg called this morning and I’m going out with Bliz and Cole at five.”

“What, I’m not invited?” Finn asked with false offense.

“Goalies only,” Leo said with even falser sympathy.

“Reyes isn’t a goalie.”

“Well, we like him better.”

Finn’s indignant noise was stifled by a mouthful of muffin and Leo laughed, jumping at the light pinch to his hip where his shirt rode up. He let Finn shoo him away from the sink with a dishtowel and waited by the counter instead to admire the way he shoved his sweater sleeves up to his elbows.

The bathroom door opened and Leo watched Logan make his way back to the table, all grimaces and stretches, with a final jaw-cracking yawn as he fell into his chair again. The neckline of his shirt was damp, like he had washed his face. He took no notice of the sneakers by the door or Finn at the sink.

“Hey, Lo,” Leo called. “Gotcha something.”

“An accountant?”

Like you’d let anyone else handle this. “A treat.”

“Thought you made muffins.”

Leo caught Finn’s smile out of the corner of his eye and shut the faucet off, passing him the towel. “Nope, different treat.”

“What is it?”

“Guess.”

“Uh…” Logan trailed off, tapping his pen against the notepad. “I don’t know, what?”

“C’mon, humor me.”

“Give me a hint.”

Leo bit his lip against a smile and hooked his finger in Finn’s waistband, guiding him away from the sink. “Pumpkin spice.”

Finn had to turn his face into his shoulder to muffle a snort. Leo pressed three fingers over Finn’s lips, not that it would do much. Ahead of them, Logan’s shoulders relaxed. “You got me coffee? That’s nice of you.”

“Try again.”

“What—uh, bread. Pumpkin bread.”

“Sweeter.”

“Cake?”

“Sweeter.”

“…doughnuts?”

“You like it more than doughnuts.”

“Is it…like, Halloween candy, or something?” Logan sat back from the table and lifted his arms to adjust his hat; Leo caught Finn around the waist and hefted him off his feet, then plopped him with great ceremony into Logan’s waiting lap.

“Oh, hi there,” Finn laughed.

“Coucou.” Logan’s eyes crinkled with the force of his smile and he ducked his laughter into Finn’s neck. “Pumpkin spice, eh?”

“Apparently.” Finn shuffled into a more upright position and slung his arm across Logan’s shoulders, toying lightly with his mussed curls. “A little birdie told me you’ve been up to no good. Taxes, scowling, refusal of muffins.”

Logan’s cheeks darkened with a blush. He cast Leo a guilty look. “Sorry.”

“There’s a heavy punishment for neglecting baked goods,” Finn informed him. “We have to take you into custard-y.”

“Get off me.”

“And you have to pay a fine of a hundred kisses before five o’clock.”

Logan’s eyebrows rose with interest—his loose hold around Finn’s waist tightened. “Stay on me. Quoi?”

“This is serious business, Mr. Tremblay.”

“Who gets this payment?”

“Well, it’s a half-and-half deal.” Leo didn’t know how Finn kept his face so solemn. “Half to the lawyer—me, obviously—and half to the baker who was so cruelly slighted in this afternoon’s incident.”

“Do I have to pony up all at once, or can I make…” Logan nudged up against Finn’s cheek, a dimple just barely forming. “…a down payment?”

“I’m sure something can be arranged.”

“Hmm.” Their kiss was soft enough to make Leo’s breath stutter in his chest—just a whisper over Finn’s bottom lip that had him chasing more. Logan bumped their noses together. “Spicy.”

Finn all but melted into his chest. “You know it.”

Jade eyes darted over and fixed Leo in place. Logan cast a quick up-and-down look over him, then propped his chin on Finn’s shoulder and gave a small, close-lipped smile. “That baker better get over here so I can give him a piece of my mind.”

The countertop was oven-warm when Leo leaned back. “How much are we giving to charity?”

Logan blinked. “Seventeen percent.”

“What’s seventeen percent of fifty?”

“Eight and a half.”

Leo stepped forward and braced his hands on the back of the chair, bracketing Logan’s head. “Tip your local bakeries, Tremblay. You owe me fifty-eight and a half kisses.”

Confusion blossomed into the kind of smile Leo lived for. “Let’s call it an even twenty percent. I’m feeling generous.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

[meowmeow-motherfucker]

Covenant- Chapter 7

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

Chapter warnings: Claire being a badass, imposter syndrome, mutual pining, tooth rotting fluff, feelings, FIRST KISS!! There's also vague mentions of the former laughingstock of a US president (if you know, you know). He is not mentioned by name because I refuse to put his name in any of my work, but he is his usual "charming" self and no one likes him. All opinions spoken by Claire and Loki are my opinions and also fact, but I'm not trying to end up on an FBI watch list so take everything with a grain of salt. Also, do not come at me with political commentary, I'm literally just trying to have a good time and write y'all an entertaining story.

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

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

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

Four days until the wedding

The next morning, Claire was hating life. The mead, like the wine, was delicious, but good grief did it pack a punch. Claire trudged her way to the bathroom, barely keeping her eyes open as Ragna helped her clean up and dress, and would have flopped on the couch if not for the nausea.

Instead, she was doing her best impression of a corpse until she had no choice but to leave in order to get breakfast.

Loki was already there when she dragged her sorry ass into the great hall, giving her a knowing smile when she dropped into her seat beside him.

“I did warn you-”

“Don’t-” Claire grimaced, waving his smug face away. Her head began to throb from the loud commotion in the great hall, and she cradled her head, her eyes falling closed in relief. “Oh god, I’m gonna die.”

“You won’t die,” Loki chuckled as he flagged down a servant to bring her wine. “Have some wine, it will help.”

“Not if I barf it up!” Claire whined.

“Humor me, won’t you?”

“Ugh, fine, I’ll do it for you,” Claire accepted the wine and swallowed a mouthful, groaning as her stomach complained loudly. “Are you sure I won’t die?”

“Positive,” Loki replied. “You need a good meal, and some scandalous gossip.”

“Oh my, is it about the prince and the soon-to-be princess who escaped the palace and spent the night drinking in a seedy bar?”

“Slightly more scandalous, which is truly saying something,” Loki snickered. “Have you seen Fandral today?” he muttered as he jutted his chin toward the other side of the great hall. “He’s acting...stranger than usual.”

“Is he?” Claire replied innocently as she glanced over at the man in question. To her delight, the arrogant man was squirming in his seat to the point his companions were all eyeing him warily. Even in her pitiful hungover state, she could tell what happening. “Interesting.”

“It’s as if...I couldn’t possibly speak of it- it’s inappropriate.”

“Tell me anyway,” Claire inched closer to Loki, hoping he would share whatever he was thinking. “You know I don’t care about propriety.” Loki patted her hand fondly. How could he forget?

“He’s behaving as though he’s picked up a disease,” he shook his head. “One obtained through...questionable behavior.” Claire gasped dramatically, leaning even closer.

“Surely you don’t mean…” she trailed off, resting her hand on his arm as they shared a meaningful glance. “Oh dear,” she said with false concern. “I hope he’ll be able to recover.”

“What have you done?” Loki asked without ire, looking at her expectantly.

“Me?” Claire balked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m certain you don’t,” Loki said casually, taking a sip of his wine as they watched Fandral squirm, now fidgeting so hard that his chair scraped loudly on the stone floor with each movement. It was causing quite a stir, and drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the great hall. “Oh dear.”

“Poor guy must be itching for relief.” Claire snickered at her private joke.

“I knew it,” Loki chuckled. “What did you do?”

“I might have snuck itching powder into his clothes,” Claire admitted from behind her goblet. “I forgot to tell you about it last night.”

“When did you do this?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” Claire replied guiltily. “I had some unsupervised free time and I used it to sneak into his rooms. Don’t look at me like that; it’s not my fault his staff just let me walk in.”

“That is quite devious of you, darling, but was it worth it?” His ridiculous question was punctuated by Fandral dropping his mead to grip the underside of his chair with both hands, now wiggling from side to side as he grew increasingly panicked.

“Of course it was worth it; look at his face!” Claire cackled behind her goblet. “Besides, his constant man-whoring is annoying. Did you know he’s slept with every one of my staff, apart from Ragna? Not that I blame them; who hasn’t fallen for a guy like that? Maybe now he’ll act like less of a lech,” her lip curled in disgust as Fandral began actively itching his privates. “Or not.”

“Color me impressed. Well done,” Loki murmured as a frantic Fandral scurried from the great hall, his body contorting in an odd dance as he itched himself all the way to the door and presumably beyond. “Perhaps it was a bit harsh.”

“He deserves it,” Claire tucked into her breakfast without remorse. “Especially with the way he treats you.”

“You did this for me?” Loki asked in surprise. “My lady, I am touched.”

“You’re welcome,” Claire nodded, drinking deeply from her wine. “I’ll teach that prick to mess with my man.” she grumbled to herself. Loki grinned, warmed by the sentiment. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

Eating with one hand was a challenge, but Loki found he couldn’t be bothered to let go of Claire’s hand. And if he used his seidr to soothe her hangover, it was really no one’s business but his own.

~~~~

Frigga was convinced that something secretive was going on between Claire and Loki. Claire had improved significantly in her daily lessons over the last several days, and during her appointments with the couple, Frigga had noticed their behavior toward each other had changed. They still argued from time to time, but there was an undercurrent to their interactions that hadn't been there before. As if the pair knew secrets no one else in the universe was party to. Frigga had been a mother long enough to know when something was going on under her nose. Something was going on, but for the sake of her son and the bond she could see growing day by day, she couldn't (and wouldn't) prove anything. With barely a week left before their wedding, the stakes were higher than ever.

She just hoped they were being smart.

Across the palace, Claire and Loki were embroiled in a heated argument in her chambers. Loki's top hat game piece had just landed on New York Avenue, which Claire owned, and upon which she had built four hotels. The commoner had bankrupted the prince.

“How. Dare. You. Madam,” Loki hissed as he was forced to surrender his properties one by one to her pile. “You tricked me, you sly little-” he growled as he then forked over a rainbow of colored bills. Claire cackled, counting the money before sorting it into the piles in front of her. The piles in front of Loki had dwindled to nothing thanks to Claire's construction efforts, leaving her the victor in his inaugural game of Monopoly.

“I told you to unmortgage your properties when you had the money but noooooo, you didn’t want to listen!” She said defensively. “Not my fault you're stubborn.”

“What are you talking about, I did exactly as you said!” Loki gestured uselessly to the still mortgaged properties in front of him. Claire laughed heartily, softening his ire. He'd tried everything and she'd slaughtered him. Mercilessly. He admired her ruthlessness, rolling his eyes affably at her smug smile when he collected the dice and handed them to her.

“Wanna play again?” She offered, eyes glinting mischievously as he glared at her.

“Absolutely not,” he laughed. “You'll just bankrupt me again.”

“Well I had fun.” Claire giggled.

“I'm sure you did,” Loki replied. “Tomorrow night I'll bring a game for us to play, and I shall win.”

“It's a date,” Claire grinned. “You probably need to go, don't you?” She asked as she began to gather the game pieces.

“Probably,” Loki said sheepishly, gathering the cards on the board in his large hands. “But I don’t wish to.” Their fingers brushed as she took the cards from him and Claire grinned.

“It's okay to admit you like spending time with me, you know,” she said as she put the cards in the box. “Just sayin'.” She folded the board and put it away, slipping the lid into place.

“I enjoy spending time with you,” Loki chuckled. “Without the crones, preferably.”

“Yeah they need to lighten up,” the couple shared a laugh before Claire jolted. “I have an idea!” She crowed excitedly, jumping up and bounding from the room. Loki was debating whether he should follow her to her bed chamber when she returned with a slim black rectangle. “Have you done a crossword before?”

“A what?”

“Okay, didn't think so,” Claire giggled as she sat beside him on the lounge. Her perfume had faded since their earlier outing, but only slightly. From afar she'd smelled enchanting, but up close her sweet scent was even more potent and made him yearn to reach out and touch her. “This isn't a competitive game, since someone is a sore loser.”

“I am not!” Loki protested lamely. Claire looked at him skeptically, her raised eyebrow making him scoff.

“Okay,” she snickered. “Like you didn’t literally throw a tantrum and call me names.”

“I called you madam; in what realm is that offensive? There are far worse things I could call you.”

“But you didn't.”

“Exactly.” Claire smiled in spite of herself. He was right.

“I think that's possibly the only time I've been called madam by someone who's mad at me. Usually I get called a bitch. Or a cunt. Or a whore.” Loki laughed sharply, immediately schooling his face.

“Apologies,” he said. “I was not expecting-”

“It's okay, I know it's not ladylike, but I ain't a lady.” Claire snickered.

“The men of Midgard do not know how to treat your sex, do they?” Loki asked.

“I would argue men everywhere don't. There are exceptions of course,” Claire hedged when Loki bristled. “But the vast majority? No.”

“That is unfortunate,” Loki murmured. “I shall endeavor to remain in the minority. Now, teach me this new game and defeat me again.”

“You like losing all of a sudden?” Claire teased.

“To you, perhaps,” Loki admitted as Claire opened her crossword app. “I said perhaps!” He added quickly when she laughed at him.

“Don’t worry, mischief, this isn’t that kind of game.” She patted his leg absently, and all of Loki's focus concentrated on that small point of contact. They sat shoulder to shoulder, with their arms pressed together. It would be so easy to lean over and- No! He chastised himself mentally. You have less than a week- surely you can last a week! “Does that make sense?” Damn, he'd missed her explanation while staring at her mouth! What had she said?

“...yes.”

“Lie.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were staring at me, not the game,” Claire grinned when Loki’s cheeks became pink. “Oh, you’re adorable.” Loki scoffed.

“Madam-”

“Sir?” Claire replied cheekily, her grin blossoming into a wide smile at Loki’s dismay. “Would you like me to explain it again?”

“Yes, but…” Loki chuckled. “Do you know,” he paused before smiling shyly. “I was beginning to think your lips changed color. They've been a different shade each day since you've arrived,” his eyes dipped down to her lush lips. “Yet each night they are the same rosy pink.”

“Well I have to keep you on your toes somehow,” Claire snickered, enjoying the heat in his gaze as he glanced at her mouth. “Would you like to pick tomorrow's color, or should I surprise you?” Loki's brain seemed to stop working for a moment, as he gaped at her open-mouthed. She waited patiently, basking in her victory.

“Green,” he cleared his throat nervously. “Please.” He finally requested.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Claire winked at him, already looking forward to knocking him on his ass.

“I have an idea,” Loki said suddenly, changing form as he leapt to his feet. “I’ll return shortly.”

~~~~

Half an hour later, Claire and Loki sat in her chambers embroiled in a battle of wits. Loki had returned with his chess set, challenging her to best him. Claire was aghast to learn it was three-dimensional. She liked Star Trek as much as the next girl, but this was ridiculous. Loki had beaten her in three rapid fire games, and they were now locked in their fourth bout.

“We can stop if you want.” Loki suggested as he waited for her to make a move.

“And let you claim victory again? I don’t think so.” Claire replied stubbornly as her eyes roamed the boards between them.

“Whilst I admire your determination darling, it’s time to admit you’ve been bested,” Loki chuckled. “See here? You are trapped.” he pointed to where his queen had indeed trapped her last lonely knight as he stood in defense of her king.

“I can still win,” Claire doubled down, leaning closer to him. “And when I do, you should kiss me. As a reward.” Loki grinned, wishing he could give her what she wanted.

“Claire, you know we can't.” he said, pulling away from her even though he didn't want to. Claire groaned, rolling her eyes. They’d already broken several rules, what was one more?

“It's a stupid rule.”

“Yes, but it's one we all agreed to-”

“-For the sake of appearances, I know I know. What is it with you princes and having to marry virgins anyway? It's not like sitting on a dick really changes you as a person,” Claire said. “No offense. I'm sure yours is very nice.”

“You'll find out in four days, you impatient creature,” Loki huffed in amusement. “Surely you will survive that long?”

“Fine,” Claire rolled her eyes. “It's still stupid.”

“Yes it is,” Loki replied as Claire yawned. “I should take my leave. Get some sleep, little wife. I shall see you in the morning.”

“I don't think you can call me that yet.” Claire teased.

“We may as well get used to it, don't you think?” Loki asked softly, looking relieved when Claire grinned.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you think I can do this?” Claire asked. “I’m almost done with princess lessons, and my head feels like it’s close to bursting with all the shit I have to remember, but that’s just protocol stuff. What about everything else?” The imposter syndrome was hitting really hard and Claire was struggling.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know, meeting foreign politicians, helping orphans...I’m still a little unclear on what exactly I should be doing and I’m kinda freaking out. I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that less than a week from now, I’m going to be a princess. What am I supposed to do?”

“It will get easier with time.”

“Of course you think that, Loki, you grew up here. I grew up poor in LA. Maybe you’re right and it will get easier, but what about now?” Claire asked. “People aren’t going to want anything to do with me if they think I suck, and let’s face it, I’m good at lots of things but I suck at this! I’m barely even a real adult,” she scoffed as she ranted. “I’m-I am three owls in a trench coat, Loki!”

“You’re what?” Loki looked her over with alarm.

“Ugh, it’s a figure of speech,” Claire groaned. Yet another communication error. “I’m just worried I won’t live up to all the expectations.”

“I understand your concern, but we will work through it together. I meant what I said, Claire. I will not let you fail.” Loki murmured as he leaned closer. Claire swallowed, wondering if he would actually break the rule and kiss her. All this waiting felt like middle school all over again; the anticipation was killing her. At the last second Loki pressed his lips to her forehead, and though it wasn't what she wanted, Claire's insides turned molten and gooey.

“That was rude.”

“Is that why you’re blushing?” Loki laughed as he pulled away, winking at her as he got to his feet.

“Shut up. It's still rude,” Claire grumped. “I’m still sixty percent sure I’m going to crash and burn.”

“I would apologize, but I'm not the least bit sorry,” Loki dodged the pillow she threw at him with a laugh. “You'll have to be faster than that, darling.”

“Get out!” Claire laughed, throwing another pillow at him. He bowed sarcastically before making his way to the door.

“Try not to worry too much. Everything will be fine. I swear it.”

“I’ll try. Now go away, I need my beauty sleep.” Claire threw another pillow at him, giggling when he batted it away.

“Good night.” He smiled as he looked back at her.

“Good night.” Claire smiled back, holding back her girlish squeal until the door closed behind him. She still thought marriage was stupid, but things with Loki were going so well that it gave her hope they would be happy together. And even though she wasn’t fully convinced she’d be a good princess, she trusted Loki when he said he would help her navigate her new role.

Three days until the wedding

The next morning, Loki was distracted as soon as he woke up. He wasn't due to see Claire until the late afternoon, but already he was consumed by thoughts of her. Would she actually wear the green as he'd asked?

Through his council meetings and appointments with the tailor, Loki’s usually sharp mind wandered. He found himself daydreaming of the soft pillow of Claire’s lips, painted in a rainbow of colors, while his fellow council members droned on about taxes and new regulations for businesses.

At long last, after a swift mid-day meal of soup and crusty bread, Loki readied himself for his outing with Claire and hastened to her chambers. Outside the door, he adjusted his leathers and fussed with his hair like a nervous boy.

The crones had arrived before him, to his dismay, but Claire’s personal servant Ragna welcomed him inside.

“My lady will be out momentarily, Your Majesty.” she curtsied as she closed the door behind him.

“I’m here now, Ragna,” Claire announced as she stepped into the room. The crones stepped aside, curtsying low. A beaming smile lit Claire’s face as her eyes landed on him. “Hi.”

It was as if every ounce of breath had left his body. Claire was radiant, draped in a flattering tulle dress. The sweetheart neckline left her shoulders exposed, a quaint gold and emerald necklace gracing her collarbone. Her long dark hair hung in delicate curls, and her hands looked more delicate than usual with the long sleeves of the dress hanging past her wrists. The silver band on her bicep blended almost perfectly with the sheer sleeves.

“Hi.” he managed finally, the fluttering of his hands matching the fluttering in his stomach. Her lips were painted green as promised, light in shade like the kiwi fruit of her home. Loki had never had anything that was truly his, but here she was- claiming him with her jewelry and her lip paint.

“It's poison apple.” Claire said, pulling Loki from his thoughts.

“W-what?” his stammered response gained him another smile.

“My lipstick is called poison apple. You keep looking at it, so I assume you like it. Wanna borrow it?” She winked at him, setting the butterflies into motion once again.

“What?” Claire giggled, not even slightly remorseful for the effect she was having on him. They shared intense eye contact, simply staring at one another. Their chaperones burst their bubble, one of them clearing her throat rather harshly.

“Shall we move along to the market?” she suggested. Loki snapped to attention first.

“Yes, we shall,” Loki replied, offering Claire his arm. “My lady?”

“Let’s hit it, my lord,” Claire gave his arm a squeeze when she looped hers around his bicep. God damn, his biceps were incredible.

~~~~

“Tell me something,” Loki asked as they walked through the market. “What exactly was your role with S.H.I.E.L.D.? You mentioned investigation, but what exactly did that entail?”

“I was responsible for determining threat levels,” Claire replied as she inspected a woven basket. “Analyzing people and their behavior was my specialty, but whenever something weird happened, my department would check it out and decide how best to proceed.”

“Which is why you were present-”

“When you sent the destroyer, yes,” Claire replied. “I was part of the team investigating Mjolnir when it showed up.”

“I am sorry you were in harms way.”

“Oh no biggie,” Claire waved off his concern. “Happens all the time. It was cool, you know?”

“Cool?” Loki asked skeptically, his brows rising high.

“I mean, sure, it was terrifying. Buuuut if I had a super awesome robot I would probably send it to break stuff too,” Claire laughed softly. “Can I ask-”

“Why I sent it?”

“Yeah,” Loki looked down, unwilling to admit his petty reasons. “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I was just curious.”

“You would be the first.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked. “No one asked you why?” Loki shook his head.

“They assumed I was jealous of my older brother and his claim to the throne; I was content to let them. But that was not why.”

“So what was the reason?” Claire pressed. Loki hesitated, his gaze flicking toward their chaperones. The two older women glared back, and Loki frowned.

“I should not say,“ He finally answered. “I have been...encouraged, shall we say, not to bring up unpleasant memories.”

“Why?”

“I believe Odin is concerned you will become too sympathetic.” Loki gave a sarcastic smile.

“Well that's horseshit,” Claire said. The chaperones gasped behind them and she turned to stare at the older women. “Yeah, I said a bad word. Deal with it,” She turned back to Loki. “Look, we're going to be married for a long time. I know I said I wouldn’t push you for answers and I meant it, but I think at some point I deserve answers to my questions.”

“I don't disagree,” Loki replied gently. "I do not trust easily, my lady.”

“I've noticed,” Claire pretending to inspect a skein of fabric while she thought. “You know, there’s a quote from Earth- those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it’.”

“England’s Wintston Churchill, I believe,” Loki's mouth pursed as he chose his words carefully. “It would be...beneficial, perhaps, for someone to hear my side of things. Someone who would not assume my guilt automatically.”

“I'm all ears, mischief.”

“You are not,” Loki smirked. “You are also have a charming wit and pleasant curves I find myself staring at far more than a respectable man should,” Claire blushed at his earnest words. “Forgive me, that was forward.”

“Don't apologize,” Claire replied. “The feeling is mutual.”

“I have pleasant curves?” Loki joked, delighting when Claire laughed and struck him on the arm.

“You have lots of pleasant things.”

“Such as?” Loki scoffed.

“Your hands,” Claire replied. She held up their clasped hands, unfurling her fingers and pressing her palm against his. His long fingers and wide palm dwarfed hers in size, and his gentle grip made her feel delicate- a feeling she was not familiar with. “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?” Loki asked doubtfully. No one in Asgard had eyes like his. “They are an oddity here.”

“I think they're beautiful,” Claire smiled. “I like odd,” The tops of Loki's cheeks turned pink, and she curled their fingers together again. “Also you have a cute butt.”

“I beg your pardon?!” Loki spluttered.

“Okay.” Claire shrugged.

“What?”

“You said I beg your pardon. So beg.” Loki snorted, tugging her closer by the hand until they were chest to chest.

“You are demanding,” he murmured. “I like it.” Claire preened, a smug look on her face as the chaperones chastised them for being too close. Ignoring them, Loki pulled her even closer, grinning when she squealed giddily. “Once we are wed, I shall tell you what you wish to know.” Claire pulled back, patting his chest plate fondly.

“In your own time, mischief. We have plenty of it.” Loki grinned, releasing her at last. He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“Shall I tell you all the ways I find you beautiful instead?”

“Who am I say no to a prince?” Claire laughed as they began to walk again. Loki plucked a long stemmed rose from a vendors basket, offering it to her.

“You are refreshingly honest and utterly enchanting,” he said, admiring the red against her creamy skin as she smelled the flower. “I will confess I worried we would be ill-suited, or that you would be unattractive in some way. Even when we fight,” he chuckled. “I admire that you challenge me head on. Each time I think I have you figured out, you surprise me. I find myself appreciating each new thing I learn about you. I look forward to learning more about you in the years to come.” Oh my. Loki, coming in clutch with the silver tongue.

“I’m looking forward to that too,” Claire leaned against him, her cheeks beginning to hurt from smiling so much. Her smile faltered when their chaperones scolded them once again for being too close. She rolled her eyes as she took a step back from him. “Mostly I look forward to spending time with you, alone.”

“The feeling is mutual, my lady.” Loki chuckled. Claire giggled, twirling the rose between her fingertips before her face grew serious.

“Loki?”

“Hmm?”

“I know babies are expected at some point, but...how soon is soon? Do we get to enjoy being married for a little while first?”

“Is that what you want?”

“At least a year,” Claire chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe two? I like fun, but what about baby-free fun?”

“There are ways to avoid conception, my lady.”

“There are? Even here?”

“Of course. I am a master of seidr,” Loki replied. “It may be different from what you are used to on Midgard, but it will work just as effectively, if not more.”

“Whatever it is, sign me up,” Claire breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s okay, right?”

“Of course. Who am I to tell you what to do with your body?” Loki replied, smiling when Claire leaned her head against his shoulder. “I like the idea of being able to enjoy you without worry. We’ll decide together when the time is right.”

~~~~

“There you are,” Loki sighed in relief as he opened the door to her en-suite bathroom. “I came for our lesson and could not find you, and I...well, I worried.”Loki admitted sheepishly as he hid behind the door. He heard the water splash in the room beyond, and his body responded to knowing Claire was naked mere feet away.

“Are you supposed to be in here?” she laughed.

“Technically, I am not,” Loki replied cheekily, grinning when he heard her laugh. “I wanted to check on you. I know today was a lot for you.”She’d spent the morning perfecting her riding form, and the afternoon being drilled by all of her instructors, each of them wanting to make sure she was flawless before the ceremony. It was draining and frustrating and while their outing to the market had been wonderful, Claire wanted to pull her hair out from the stress of it all.

“Oh god, don’t remind me,” Claire groaned, sinking deeper into the water. “I’m in a weird mood tonight.”

“What troubles you?”

“Lots of things.” Claire sighed heavily. “I don’t even know if I understand it myself.”

“Try me.”

“This is gonna sound nuts, but just stick with me, okay?” Claire pleaded. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you one-on-one. I’m feeling a lot more confident about signing up for this now that I know you better,” she smiled. “I enjoy our supervised dates too, but I like spending time with you without all the rules,” Loki smiled to himself, warmed by her admission. “I understand that all of this is pretty much a performance, like the circus. I know that in three days, there’s going to be a ton of people here to watch us get married and that’s fine.”

“But?”

“But I hate that all those people are going to see our first kiss,” Claire confessed. “Again, I understand we can’t break the rules and that our marriage is basically a spectacle, but I don’t want us to be a spectacle. Does that make sense?”

“I understand completely.”

“I know we can’t do anything to change it. I don’t want you to risk your safety, I just needed you to know how I’m feeling.”

“I’m honored you trust me with that knowledge.” Silence hung in the steamy air for a stretch, the only sound the rippling of the water. Loki sat on the opposite side of the door, sure to preserve her privacy but wanting to be nearby. He could sense that she needed him.

“Loki?” she called.

“Yes, darling?”

“Do you really think I can do this?” Claire asked softly.

“I was worried at first,” he admitted with a fond smile. “You were loud and brash and opinionated-”

“That’s me, baby- bold and brash,” Claire snickered from the water. “I understand the concern.”

“I no longer have it,” Loki admitted. He heard Claire jerk suddenly in the water- no doubt looking at the door as though he’d sprouted a second head. “Something you said struck a cord with me; that either you would walk beside me as an equal or not at all. We are different, you and I. We may not fit elsewhere but we fit each other. If you were the person you were expected to be, we would not. We will always be equals, this I promise. I am not saying you will not stumble, but I will be with you every step of the way,” Loki pledged. “I have no doubt that in time you will bring the entirety of Asgard to its knees.”

“Thank you. Are you included in that?” Claire asked. The question hung in the air until she snorted, bursting into laughter that echoed in the bathroom. “I’m sorry, you’re out there being serious and I’m making dirty jokes. Feelings make me uncomfortable.”

“I have that difficulty also,” Loki replied. “Would you want me on my knees?”

“I could be persuaded,” Claire chuckled. “I like a good challenge.”

“I shall keep that in mind.”

“Can you toss me my towel please?” Claire laughed from inside the bathroom. “I forgot to grab it before I got in.”

“Here,” Loki stepped into the room, careful to avert his eyes and tossed her towel into her outstretched hand. “I’m going to set up our lesson for tonight. Join me when you’re ready.”

Claire stepped into the main room a few minutes later, dressed comfortably in her pajama pants and an old S.H.I.E.L.D t-shirt. Loki had not set up for any lessons- it looked more like he’d prepared for a book club than anything else. A stack of books sat on the table, as well as the usual tray laden with snack foods.

“I thought you said you were setting up a lesson.”

“A clever ruse,” Loki grinned. “I thought perhaps we could simply spend time together. It has been a difficult day for you and you deserve a break.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you, thank you.”

“Of course,” Loki smiled as she sat on the couch beside him. “I wondered if I could ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“When you first arrived, you had-” Loki mimed monstrous claws, making Claire laugh. “You no longer have them.”

“Yeah, I took them off,” Claire replied. “I really just wanted to look a little scary, and the claws are a good way to do it.”

“Ah,” Loki nodded. He could see why she would want to appear intimidating. “And the hoop in your nose?”

“The hoop stays. It’s permanent,” Claire plucked lightly at the purple hoop. “I’ve had it for years. I got it when I was sixteen and man, was my mom mad,” she laughed. “I thought she was gonna spit fire.”

“Was that a talent of hers?”

“No, it’s just an expression,” Claire shook her head. “Although she was Puerto Rican and probably could have done it if she put her mind to it.”

“I see. Is that a nationality?”

“It is, actually. You’ll find Puerto Ricans of all ethnic backgrounds, but she was born on the island. Her parents moved to the United States when she was a kid. That’s where I was born.”

“In LA?”

“Yeah. Los Angeles, or LA for short, is in California on the west coast of my country. I lived there until I was sixteen.”

“Would I be correct in assuming that is when you lost your mother?” Claire nodded.

“Yes. Phil took me in after that, and I went to the S.H.I.E.L.D academy, then I was out in the field within a couple of years.”

“And you’ve done nothing else?”

“Hey, my career is nothing to sneeze at. I had to work very hard to get to where I was,” Claire said defensively. “The S.H.I.E.L.D academy trains kids from a very early age, but I was able to pass their tests and get in late. I broke tons of records there, both at the academy and in the field. I’ve been to places most people couldn’t even dream of visiting.”

“Asgard included.” Claire laughed despite herself.

“Yes, Asgard included. You could probably make a killing in the tourism trade.”

“We have enough money, darling, believe me,” Loki chuckled. “Please, help yourself to something.” he held out the plate of snacks.

“What book are you reading?” Claire asked as she helped herself to a fruit tart. Loki produced a thick text on philosophy, already marked by a book mark.

“I am trying to refine my argument for the next council meeting,” he explained. “What will you read?”

“I’m reading a history of Asgard.”

“Your tutors will be pleased.” Loki chuckled as Claire scooted closer.

Loki set the snacks between them as they both settled in to read their books.

~~~~

Claire closed her book once she’d finished her chapter; the question niggling in her brain demanding to be aired.

“I have a question.”

“Of course,” Loki put aside the book he was reading from to look at her. “What is it?”

“So I understand that people aren't supposed to touch members of the royal family. Am I included in that?”

“You are,” Loki nodded. “Even though we are not yet wed, you are my intended and that courtesy ought to be extended to you as it is to me.”

“And if it isn't?” Claire had though she’d seen Loki angry. She'd seen him annoyed, when he'd told off the crones or when they bickered, and he’d been furious after the glitter bomb incident, but this was different. His eyes darkened and his jaw tightened, a muscle ticking as he clenched his teeth.

“Give me a name.”

“I don't think it's that serious.”

“You said someone touched you. Or at least implied it. Who?”

“Why?”

“Why?” Loki balked. “I assume this cretin is still breathing. I intend to put a stop to that,” Claire couldn't help but smile. “You laugh, my lady, but this is no laughing matter.”

“No, you're right, sorry,” Claire nodded. “But why don't you let me handle it? I was really just asking for clarification.”

“Is that what you want? To handle it personally?”

“I think it would be best.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“It's not that,” Claire shook her head. “But we're getting married in a matter of days and I imagine this will cause a stir. The last thing we need is a scene.”

“I am capable of discretion,” Loki scoffed, clearly offended. “Honestly.”

“Loki, why do I feel like if you had your way, I would have a dead body outside my door?”

“Seems reasonable to me,” Loki shrugged. “Would that upset your delicate sensibilities?” He asked darkly.

“Of course not; I’m hardly a stranger to dead bodies. But I'd prefer if our marriage didn't start with one or both of us in prison.”

“You're no fun.” Loki purred.

“I'm plenty of fun. You'll find out exactly how much in three days.”

“Hmm,” The deep rumble from his chest made Claire's insides turn to goo. Fuck, she wanted him. The fact he offered to kill for her...it sent a dark thrill down her spine. He shot to his feet, preparing to leave. “I will ensure there is additional security at your door. I should-”

“Can I give you a hug?” Claire asked abruptly. Loki paused, surprised by her question.

“You may.” He grunted when she squeezed him around the middle, pressing her face into his chest. Loki stood awkwardly as she embraced him without fear. He couldn't remember the last time...

“I knew it.”

“What?”

“We fit.” Claire murmured, practically purring with contentment as Loki's arms wrapped around her. His head came to rest on hers as he pulled her tightly against him. His heartbeat was steady and comforting in her ear, his body molded perfectly to hers as his chest rose and fell. This was the most they had touched since meeting, and Claire adored the feeling of his solid form against her body, as though he were the anchor to her ship lost at sea.

“Are you certain you wish to handle-”

“Yes,” Claire said stubbornly, keeping her face buried in his chest. “But if I need help, I'll tag you in.”

“How shall you handle it?”

“I'll beat him up, obviously.” Claire giggled.

“I would very much like to see that.” Loki replied.

“You like the fact that I can defend myself, don’t you?”

“I do indeed,” Loki chuckled. “I’ll admit, I’ve thought of it often since our fight on the training field.”

“I still want that rematch.”

“You shall have it. For now I shall have to hope that I can see you dispense justice to whichever lout dared to put a hand on you.” Claire laughed as she shifted her weight, grinning when she felt what was hiding in his pants.

“Is that a roll of quarters in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?” Claire snickered. Loki sighed in exasperation.

“Is this how life is to be with you? Hmm?” He jostled her playfully, making her laugh. “You tease me relentlessly then mock me for reacting?”

“For now,” Claire said apologetically. “Sorry, I can't do anything to help.” She wasn’t sorry at all.

“You are a dreadful menace. Go to bed, you little imp,” Loki huffed without ire, pulling away from her. “I shall see you in the morning.”

“Think sexy thoughts about me, k?” Loki laughed, his tongue flashing as he licked his lips. He grinned down at her, every inch a predator observing his prey, and Claire could have come on the spot.

“Darling, all of my thoughts are about you. Especially when I bring myself to release.” He growled, hands fisting in her clothes as he pulled her back into his chest, and Claire desperately wanted to feel his hands on her bare skin.

“I think about you too.” She confessed, shivering with delight when he backed her up against the nearest wall.

“Your pupils are dilated,” he noted as he towered over her. “I would wager if I touched you, you would be wet for me.”

“You're welcome to,” Claire challenged. “Or are we still pretending we're following the rules?” Loki growled as the neckline of her dress slipped lower, exposing unseen flesh to his desperate gaze. “Wait, can you lift me?” Loki furrowed his brows at the silly question. Of course he could. He lifted her effortlessly, stepping between her parted thighs with a growl. Claire sighed sweetly as he took her weight, her lithe arms closing behind his neck.

“Better?” He asked softly, his lips a mere inch from hers. It would be so easy to break the rules and kiss her, claim her until she begged him for sweet release.

“I've been thinking how I wanted to fuck you first after we're married,” nimble fingers combed through his hair, and Loki melted into the affection. “This is pretty high on the list.” Claire sighed, wrapping a lock of his hair around her finger as she squeezed his waist with her delectable thighs. Even though she was fully clothed, Loki could feel the heat of her skin through the cloth of her dress and it was driving him mad. Loki grunted with want and his cock throbbed between her legs. The whimper that escaped her nearly drove him to his knees. He dropped his head to her shoulder, inhaling her intoxicating scent as his eyes drifted closed.

“Sometimes,” he swallowed nervously. “I worry this is all a dream and I will wake to find myself still locked in that accursed cell,” He longed to sink his teeth into her flesh and mark her for all to see, but to do it now would have grave consequences. “I should go while I can still think clearly.” Claire brushed his hair back gently, clinging to him as he gingerly set her back on her feet. His hands trailed up her body, giving her goosebumps. He clasped her hand and gave the softest kiss to her knuckles, his eyes burning into hers as he put all his longing into his kiss. He pulled away, but pressed another kiss to her forearm as his other arm held her against him.

Holy shit. He was doing the Gomez thing. Without her asking! Claire was pretty sure he didn't even know who Gomez Addams was. His mouth burned with promise as he laid another kiss at the delicate fold of her arm. Claire's eyes were half closed with pleasure as he blazed a scorching trail along the heated nerves of her skin, kissing at her bicep and again at her shoulder. Claire's knees went weak as his lips pressed to the curve of her neck, only remaining upright thanks to his tightened grip when she wilted. Loki's tongue darted out to taste her flushed skin, teasing her with the sharp tip of his canines.

“Loki,” she pleaded breathlessly. “You should leave before I tie you to the bed.”

“Such promises, darling,” he murmured, pressing a final kiss to her neck before pulling away. “Are you sure you can stand?”

“Shut up,” Claire laughed. “Fuckin' neck kisses get me every time.”

“I shan't forget,” Loki promised, enjoying the needy way she grabbed his sleeves when he leaned in to kiss her. He didn't fully press his lips to hers, enjoying the dizzying pull of her mouth. She was utterly enchanting, sapphire eyes closed and cheeks flushed. “How could I with such a lovely reaction?” He released her, grinning when she groaned with want. “I shall take my leave. Good night, my lady.” Though his words were formal, his tone was anything but. This wasn't him testing her knowledge again. He was claiming her.

“Good night, my lord,” Claire replied. She welcomed the claim, and returned it. “I hate these rules.”

“As do I,” Loki said. “Though I believe it is past the midnight hour now. Two more days and you shall be mine.” Claire groaned, wishing time would hurry up and pass already.

“Two more days.” She sighed as the handmaiden replaced Loki. The guard at her door nodded in greeting when the massive door opened, and she waved at him as Loki slash the handmaiden strolled past him without incident. Frustrated, Claire began making mental plans to have a steamy bath before bed. She knew she should have packed more toys.

Two days until the wedding

“Good morning, darlings! A fabulous day awaits you- your guests arrive shortly and the wedding games will begin tomorrow!” Frigga greeted Claire and Loki in the great hall during breakfast. “Eat quickly; you must approve all the final touches before the guests arrive.” The couple shared a knowing glance. This was undoubtedly the last bit of calm they would have for the next few days.

~~~~

After giving final approval of the seating arrangements, decorations, and the various menus of the coming feasts, Claire and Loki retreated to the garden with Frigga for tea. Frigga was practically vibrating with excitement as they rested before the madness truly began. The first official wedding event, the opening feast, would take place in a matter of hours.

“Mother,” Loki began as Claire nursed her cup of tea. “I wonder if I could ask something of you.”

“Of course, my darling,” Frigga patted his hand fondly. “What do you need?” Loki glanced at Claire before turning back to Frigga.

“I wondered if Claire and I could have just a moment alone.” he asked. Frigga challenged him with a raised brow, staring at him pensively over the rim of her teacup.

“More than you’ve already had?” she asked. Loki and Claire both froze, Claire choking on her tea and beginning to cough. “Relax, my darlings-”

“We haven’t broken the rules!” Claire said urgently.

“I’ve been helping Claire prepare for her role, nothing more,” Loki added. “Mother-”

“Hush,” Frigga said calmly as she straightened in her chair. “I already know this.”

“You do?”

“Darling girl,” Frigga scoffed gently as she pierced Claire with her knowing gaze. “You made a rather drastic improvement without warning. It was obvious you had assistance. And simultaneously, by some miracle, Loki’s outlook also began to improve. It was not difficult to discern what was happening,” she smirked, glancing between the pair. “I am no fool; I have raised two sons to adulthood. But results are results, and I was glad to see you happy,” she smiled at Loki. “And to see you faring better.” she extended a hand to Claire.

“Mother-”

“If you did not break any additional rules, it shall remain our secret.” Frigga promised.

“We have not.”

“The risk isn’t worth it,” Claire added, warming Loki with her sincerity. “We both understand the rules and the reason behind them. We’re both doing this for bigger reasons than ourselves, and we understand we will largely be in the public eye. We just didn’t want the start of our physical relationship to be the same way.”

“Ah,” Frigga nodded in understanding. “As someone who did not meet her husband until we arrived at the altar, I completely understand.”

“Would you allow it?” Loki asked. Frigga said nothing, bridging her fingers in front of her tea cup as she stared them down. Claire was used to being under scrutiny, under threat of death, but her future mother-in-law’s discerning gaze made her sweat.

“I will cover for you for exactly five minutes,” she finally agreed, relaxing and taking a sip of tea. “I am trusting you to follow the other rules as you have until now.”

“Thank you, mother.” Loki got to his feet and offered Claire his hand. Claire grinned and took it, letting him lead her away from the table.

“What shall we discuss in our time together?” Frigga asked as they disappeared into the garden. Claire looked back to see Frigga chatting with mirror images of the two of them.

“Your mom is awesome,” Claire laughed as they made their way deeper into the thick of the garden. “Can you do that too?”

“I can,” Loki replied as they came upon a lush willow tree. Loki tugged her beneath the tree’s canopy, the long leafy boughs shielding them from any passersby. “I could show you, if you wanted. But is that really how you wish to spend our limited time together?”

“Nah, I’ll take a rain check. I’d rather kiss you stupid.” Claire let him press her against the tree.

“You, kiss me stupid?” Loki scoffed as he towered over her. His gaze dropped to her lush lips as he leaned closer, his arm snaking around her waist. “You’re rather confident for someone who gets weak in the knees when I merely kiss your hand.”

“Shut up,” Claire giggled. “I’ll have you know I’m quite the ball-buster back home. You should be flattered.” She poked a finger in his chest, flattening her palm against him as he stepped even closer. They were chest to chest now, and Claire’s heart was thundering in her ears. Loki looked so handsome she wanted to eat him alive.

“Who says I’m not?” he purred. His lips hovered over hers teasingly, both of them drunk on the delectable liquor of finally being able to touch. Tired of waiting, Claire cupped the back of his neck and pulled Loki down, sighing happily as he crowded her against the tree. The kisses on her knuckles had alluded to Loki’s skill, but this was a different experience with all new thrills. His lips were soft and warm, and she could faintly taste the tea he’d sipped before they’d escaped. After being denied any sort of touch for so long, Claire wanted to remember everything.

Loki licked at her lips, humming with delight when she pulled him closer. Their shared breath became heated as they both fought the urge to tear off the offending clothing between them. His long fingers grasped at the material of her dress, tugging her against him insistently.

Loki’s hair was soft and looped easily around her fingers as she sank her hands into the tresses. Claire pulled away long enough to work her fingers beneath his collar, gasping when his large hand groped at her breast. Loki reclaimed her mouth, making her dizzy with want as he made love to her with his tongue. Unlike other men she’d kissed, Loki didn’t shove his tongue down her throat. Instead, he stoked her desire with measured teasing strokes that had her insides melting and her knees quaking.

Loki pulled away from her reluctantly, supporting her weight with a knowing smile.

“Do you feel better?” he asked softly.

“Much better.” Claire smiled up at him, soaking up the feel of him pressed against her as he kissed her forehead. He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her under his chin as she hugged him tightly. She could feel his pulse racing in his throat, and felt a wave of satisfaction that he was just as affected as she was.

“This was an excellent idea,” he murmured. “It may be difficult to steal moments like these once we are both entrenched in our duties, but I would like to-”

“I’d like that too. I know all this-” Claire gestured beyond the tree’s hanging boughs. “Is mostly a performance for others, but this is private.” She wound their fingers together, clasping their hands tightly.

“It shall stay that way. I am a very private person.”

“I’ve noticed,” Claire smiled. “But I agree. I don’t share well.” she hummed with satisfaction as he kissed her again, her eyes slipping closed as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“You’ll never share me, little wife. I am yours as you are mine,” Loki promised softly. “We should return,” he ran his hand down her arm, lifting her knuckles to his mouth before dotting kisses upon her wrist and forearm. “We are overdue.”

“If you keep doing that, you’re gonna have to carry me.” Claire murmured as his lips caressed the exposed skin at her inner elbow.

“Are you unwell?” he gave a teasing smirk when a whimper escaped her. It was unfair, honestly, how a simple kiss could make her clit throb with need. He traced his lips along her skin, pressing more kisses inside the sleeve openings at her bicep and at her shoulder. His warm breath caressed her skin delicately as he clutched possessively at her waist. “Perhaps I can help,” he placed another kiss upon her collar bone, searing her flesh and making desire flood her veins. “Better?” he breathed against her flushed skin, grinning mischievously when she clutched him to her. “Your scent...it shall drive me mad.” he murmured as he nosed at her neck, peppering kisses upon her skin and making her writhe against him.

“Loki-”

“Gods, I cannot wait to make you fall apart beneath me,” he licked at her skin, drawing the tender flesh between his teeth as her nails dug into his shoulders. “We shall have endless amounts of fun together.”

Approaching footsteps pulled their attention from each other and they sprung apart. The skin at Claire’s neck smarted delightfully, but any mark would have given them away instantly. Loki soothed the skin with a brush of his thumb, using seidr to remove the faint mark he’d left behind.

“Thanks.” Claire grabbed his hand appreciatively, grateful he’d thought about it.

“Of course.” the couple shared a secretive smile as they emerged from under the tree to see Frigga approaching them. The queen took in their flushed faces and smiles before giving them a knowing look.

“There you are, my darlings. I trust all is well?”

“Very well, Mother. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now! Let us finish our walk before I must turn you over to the mercy of your guests.” she winked at them, gesturing for them to walk ahead of her on the cobblestone path.

“My lady?” Loki offered Claire his arm. Claire looped her arm through his, knocking into him gently with her hip. Loki looked at her with surprise before he knocked into her with his hip. Claire bumped into him again, making him stumble slightly. Frigga looked in with mild concern as Loki bumped into her harder, her concern giving way as the two burst into giggles. The pair took off down the path, shrieking with laughter and wearing matching smiles as Frigga trailed behind them with a smile of her own.

~~~~

After their interlude in the garden, Claire and Loki were ushered to their respective chambers to get ready for the guests arrival. Claire felt like she was floating on air, chitchatting with Ragna as they walked.

All through her preparation, as her hair was combed within an inch of its life, her nails buffed until they gleamed, and her lips painted with a shimmery gloss, the feeling remained. Looking in the mirror, Claire saw not just herself, but a respectable lady. Someone in love.

Was it too early to call it that? Claire had long since given up on any meaningful connection, but Loki had found a way past her defenses in such a short time that it frightened her a little.

Okay, a lot.

But wasn’t that part of love? Didn’t it make you feel like you could fly, but also like you were a ship about to be dashed upon the rocky shore?

“Lady Claire?” Ragna caught her attention with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s time.”

“Right,” Claire took a deep breath, looking back at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t have any answers, but maybe this was one of those things you just have to go through. She felt confident that because of their bond, she and Loki would work well together, and hopefully, be happy for years to come. “I’m ready.”

~~~~

Claire arrived in the throne room shortly after Loki, who looked devastatingly handsome in his formal leathers and cape. Claire’s intrusive thoughts wanted her to hug him from behind and bury her face between his shoulder blades. She settled for complimenting him since they were under heavy surveillance still.

“You look so fancy,” she murmured as she stepped up beside him. “No helmet today?”

“Not today, darling, you must be serious for once.”

“I can be serious.” Claire argued. Loki shot her a skeptical look. Claire made a silly face at him, catching him off guard and making him laugh. Behind Claire, Frigga made a stern face at the both of them, silently warning them to behave. This only served to make the pair laugh harder despite their best attempts to quiet down. The large doors opened, revealing the sea of people who’d come to see them. Claire’s stomach dropped, her anxiety suddenly dialed up to eleven. What if she did something stupid? What if she didn’t look the part?

“Don’t fuss, darling,” Loki said gently, squeezing her hand and preventing her from picking at her pristine nails. “You can do this.” he reassured her in the quiet before the storm.

“Thank you.” Claire squeezed back, grateful that he had noticed her distress, and that he had stepped in to soothe her.

“You’re welcome. Now chin up. You look lovely, and I know how confident you are,” he smiled. “Act like it.” he gave her hand another squeeze before the first guest approached. People were still spilling into the room, the line of guests to be greeted growing longer and longer. Loki stood at the head of their receiving line to Claire’s left, while Frigga and finally Odin stood to her right. Claire had assumed that the king and queen would greet the guests first, but Frigga had explained that the majority of the guests were allies of Asgard and therefore would come to pay respect to Odin, but also Loki and her by extension. Because they were the ones being celebrated, they would greet the guests first.

As a staff member told Loki the names of the first guests, Claire had a thought that maybe she should have binged The Crown before she came to Asgard. It probably would have been at least a little helpful.

She’d certainly get her curtsy down pat after today.

~~~~

Good God, was there any end to this line?! Claire felt as though she’d met enough people to fill an entire stadium. Her hands ached from shaking so many, her face hurt from the smile she had plastered on, her feet were screaming at her from inside the shoes she wore. She just wanted this to end.

“I didn’t realize you would be coming!” Claire exclaimed as she saw a group of familiar faces approaching Loki. “It’s so nice to see all of you.”

“Please,” Tony said, holding up a hand to stop her. “Don’t get too emotional, I’m a person just like you. Actually I take that back-” He grunted when his wife smacked him in the ribs.

“Ignore him,” the blonde said with a small smile. “I’m Pepper.” She offered her hand for Claire to take.

“Oh hi!” Claire said excitedly. “I’ve heard lots of great things about you; it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, Rock of Ages, how’s it going?�� Tony asked casually, unfazed by Loki’s glare as he held out his hand.

“How do you think?” he asked harshly, pointedly ignoring Tony’s hand.

“It’s just a question, buddy, relax. Congratulations.” Tony retracted his hand. A muscle ticked in Loki’s jaw as he clenched his fists. Beside Tony, Pepper facepalmed.

“Thank you.” Loki replied tersely as the couple continued down the line to greet Frigga. Steve stood waiting to greet Loki, along with Anja and a brunette man Claire didn’t recognize.

“Loki.” Steve offered his hand as he stepped in front of Loki.

“Rogers.” Loki shared a tense smile with the captain, squeezing his hand tightly. He released the captain after the appropriate amount of time, allowing him to sidestep and greet Claire.

“Hi Cla-”

“Captain,” Claire said icily. She still hadn’t forgiven Steve for choosing Rollins over her for the STRIKE team several years ago. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, thank you for the invitation,” Steve nodded politely. “Congratulations.” Steve stepped aside to greet Frigga, allowing Claire to observe Loki and Anja’s interaction.

“-Not being incarcerated has done wonders for me,” Loki said warmly. “Thank you for asking.”

“Of course,” Anja replied. “I’m glad you’re doing better.” she gave Loki a warm smile before stepping over to greet Claire.

“Shadow, right?” Claire asked, taking her hand.

“That’s me,” Anja smiled. “I’m your uncles favorite.” She stage whispered.

“Don’t let her lie, I’m his favorite.” Tony objected from further down the line. Frigga looked at him quizzically.

“I’m sure,” Claire giggled as Pepper dragged Tony away from Frigga to greet Odin. She turned back to Anja, clasping her hand in her own. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course! I love weddings, and this place is gorg-eous!” Anja sang. “Congratulations. This is my husband Bucky.” she gestured to the dark haired man beside her.

“Hi.” Claire shook his hand too.

“Oh, hi. I thought-” Claire glanced at Steve, her head cocked in confusion.

“I got a two-fer,” Anja grinned. “Our rabbi is very modern.”

“Oh, right on!” Claire laughed. Kudos to Anja for bagging two hot relics. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for inviting us.” Bucky replied, shaking her hand before the throuple moved down the line.

Bruce and a brunette woman Claire didn’t recognize stepped in front of Loki. The tension between Bruce and Loki was instantly palpable and everyone seemed to take a collective breath as the two stared each other down. Claire remembered from the file in her room that Hulk had thrown Loki around Avengers tower like a rag doll. Yikes. Talk about awkward. After a moment, Bruce offered a hand shake in a show of peace. Loki glanced down at his hand and up to Bruce, pausing briefly before taking his hand grudgingly.

“Hi, Claire,” Bruce said softly as they stepped in front of her. “This is my wife Darcy.”

“Hi there!” Darcy chimed in brightly. Claire smiled back at them and shook their hands, thanking them for coming. The couple seemed to balance each other; where Bruce was reserved, Darcy was exuberant.

“Uh…congratulations.” Bruce offered meekly.

“This must be so awkward for the both of you,” Darcy said gently. “No offense, arranged marriage just seems so...eek.”

“It was at first,” Claire chuckled. “It’s gotten better.” Darcy patted her hand comfortingly.

“Good, good. I hope your first child is a masculine child.” Darcy spoke with gravitas, in a perfect impression of Luca Brasi. Claire curled her lips inward to contain her laughter. She liked Darcy. They would have been good friends.

“Thanks Darcy.” Claire finally managed. Loki looked on with confusion as Darcy curtsied before moving on to greet Frigga.

“What was that girl talking about?” he leaned close to ask.

“It was a movie reference, dear, I’ll explain later.” Claire snickered as Thor appeared (finally), at the end of the line. Claire was overjoyed to see the president of her home country bringing up the rear of the line as she’d asked, sulking like a spoiled child just as she’d known he would. She’d known he couldn’t be uninvited for the sake of appearances, of course, but he was no doubt the furthest from where he wanted to be. If Claire knew the slimy bastard like she thought she did, he was surely hoping to use the occasion for some peacocking.

“Welcome to Asgard,” Loki greeted the man politely, as if he hadn’t suggested the man’s miserable place in the line. “I trust your accommodations are to your liking?”

“Yes, yes, very fine,” the man mumbled. “Not as nice as my resort, but very fine.” Loki glanced over to Claire with a pointed look that clearly meant Is this fool serious? Claire arched her brow in response.

Yes. Unfortunately.

Loki’s brow ticked just slightly, as if to say I see.

“We will do everything we can to make your time in Asgard more comfortable. We appreciate you coming.” Loki said diplomatically.

“Congratulations,” the man mumbled, ambling over to Claire with an awkward gait. “I’d love to meet while I’m here-” he wheezed, sticking out his small hand for Claire to shake. “Get your opinion on a couple things.”

“That depends,” Claire replied coolly, pointedly ignoring his tiny hand. “Are you actually interested in what I have to say, or are you hoping I’ll fix the next election to keep you in power?” Loki glanced at her with giddy interest, delighted to see her sink her claws into her prey. The puny man grew red in the face and withdrew his hand.

“I won fair and square.”

“I’m sure,” Claire said placidly. “I’m also sure we can both agree that Asgard is a far more powerful ally than Russia.”

“Maybe we can work something out. You’re from the States, after all.”

“Be that as it may, I won’t be interceding on your behalf. You’ll have to get by on your own merit, if you’re able.”

“I’m more than able- the most able,” the man insisted. “I can make things very difficult for you.”

“Can you even reach my shoulders?” Claire scoffed. “I will not be blackmailed by some ineffectual, privileged, effete, soft-penised debutante. You want to start a street fight with me; bring it on, but you're gonna be surprised by how ugly it gets. You don't even know my name,” she sneered, leaning into the man’s space and making him shrink back. “I'm the fucking lizard king.”

Gods, she was magnificent. Was this what love felt like? Loki would have gladly given her anything she desired in that moment.

Several emotions flickered across the mans face; fear, indignation, embarrassment, and finally, rage. He looked comical with his wide eyes, his eye sockets two large circles of white amidst the rest of his carrot-orange face. He mumbled something unintelligible to Claire and beat a hasty retreat.

“That is the leader of your country?” Loki leaned in to scoff. “Why is he orange?” his lip curled in disgust as he watched the odious man greet Frigga and Odin, his off-colored lips flapping as he no doubt said something offensive.

“He insists it’s a tan.”

“He is delusional,” Loki muttered. “He looks like a sunburnt Krylorian,” Claire couldn’t have contained her laughter if she tried. She did manage to reign it in, but only after the butt of their private joke glared at her. “Oh dear, I think you’re in trouble darling.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Claire cackled, slapping at him ineffectually, as he continued to mock the short man and make her laugh. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“You don’t need my help for that, menace,” Loki said with pride, pulling her against him with an arm around her waist. “You’ve sent him running like a frightened dog. But what exactly is a lizard king?” Claire laughed again.

“It’s a quote from a tv show,” she replied as Thor arrived, heralding at last the end of the parade of guests. “Don’t worry, I’m not in any competing lines of succession.”

“Good to know,” Loki chuckled. “I should hate for anything to derail our big day.”

“Looking forward to it, are you?” Claire asked teasingly as he offered her his arm to lead her to the great hall. A long night of feasting, drinking and dancing with their guests awaited them, and Claire for one was very excited.

“It would be a pity if it didn’t happen. Everyone is already here, after all.” Loki murmured, pleased beyond measure when she laughed and let her head drop onto his shoulder. No one else quite grasped his sense of humor like she did. It made him feel something he couldn’t quite name but whatever it was, he knew he wanted to feel it always.

~~~~

Claire sank into the water with a groan of delight, overjoyed to soak her aching feet after such a long night. The opening feast was still in full swing in the great hall, but having accomplished everything she’d wanted to for the night, Claire had made an excuse to go to bed early.

She turned toward the open door as a creak sounded from outside it, smiling to herself. It could only be one person.

“You left early too?” she called.

“It was rather dull without you,” Loki replied from his post beyond the door. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” Claire laughed. “People think women are fragile so I was able to make an easy exit. Did I miss anything?”

“Not really. Things quieted down after your country’s...leader was separated from the captain and sergeant.” Claire snorted as she wet her hair in the steaming water.

“That’s probably for the best,” she cackled. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to ask them to take a photo with him,” her head shot up as a foul thought occurred to her. “You don’t think he’ll ask us for one, do you?”

“If he does, we’ll simply say no,” Loki chuckled. “I have no qualms about upsetting such a...how should I describe him?”

“An idiot?”

“Yes, that will do,” Loki agreed. “I have no qualms about upsetting an idiot,” The pair laughed together for a moment as they thought of the bumbling man downstairs. “Were you pleased by tonight’s event?”

“Oh yes, everything was wonderful! I am so full, I couldn’t eat another bite, but the food was so good I want more.”

“What of our guests? I saw you flitting about.”

“I’ll admit I had a bit of an agenda,” Claire laughed. “There were several politicians I wanted to talk to, and it was the perfect opportunity to pick their brains.”

“Did you manage to catch everyone you wished to speak to?”

“Yes! I was most excited to speak to Angela Merkel- she’s the first female chancellor of Germany; and Michelle Obama! Ah, such a remarkable woman, I really admire her. I asked her for leadership advice.”

“And did she give any?”

“Oh yes,” Claire sighed happily. “I don’t know how much I’ll be leading here, but I’d like to be like her. She’s very intelligent. Resilient. Level-headed and compassionate. She really cares about people.”

“I’m sure you’ll find opportunity,” Loki smiled. “Did you speak with anyone else?”

“Yes, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!” Claire squealed excitedly. “Let it be known that, I, Claire Fisher, a lowly S.H.I.E.L.D agent and childhood resident of Compton, spoke to the QUEEN OF ENGLAND!”

“I had no idea you would be so excited about this,” Loki laughed, charmed by her enthusiasm. “Did she meet your expectations?”

“YES!” Claire squealed. “She was wonderful! She gave me leadership advice- and some marriage advice- and she’s SO funny! I love her so much, Loki, I never want her to leave.” Loki laughed heartily at that.

“Eventually we must let her go home, darling.”

“Oh alright, fine, she can leave.” Claire replied grumpily, sulking deeper into the water. She began to rub body wash into her skin, filling the humid air with the scent.

“What is that?” Loki asked. “That smell.” It smelled of intoxicating sweet flowers and musk.

“It’s body wash. In the Stars, from Bath and Body Works. It was a gift from my friends you met. FitzSimmons?”

“Ah yes, the scientists. I would have liked to speak to them more.”

“You should; I think you’d get along,” Claire smiled. “Anyway, they made me a going-away gift of self-care items and makeup. All of the scents are space or astronomy themed, which is so on brand for both of them. They also gave me all the lipsticks you’re so fond of.”

“I shall endeavor to thank them,” Loki smiled. “I assume you know them from S.H.I.E.L.D., but how did your role correlate to theirs?”

“Ah, well, as scientists, they would develop weapons and gear and whatnot, and every so often I would get to test their new toys in the field. They made a plasma cannon once that sadly did not get the final approval from the higher ups, but it was fun to play with.”

“I can imagine it was quite destructive.”

“Yeah, I spent a week filling out damage reports,” Claire cringed. “Still, it was disappointing to see it scrapped,” the pair fell into easy silence as Claire continued to scrub her skin. “Loki?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me about one of your disappointments.” the loaded request sat heavy on Loki’s shoulders. It was a request to be vulnerable, and Loki wondered how far he was willing to let his guard down where Claire was concerned.

“When I was a boy- well...I was at an odd stage- not quite a man, but no longer a boy- I had a very exciting opportunity to study some insects that were on the brink of extinction. I have always preferred my studies to the practices of Odin and Thor, but this was an exceptional chance to study creatures that were vastly important to their ecosystems. For whatever reason, it was nearly impossible to get them to breed, and so their numbers dwindled, and dwindled, until finally, there were only two males and one female left.”

“That does sound interesting.”

“My tutor was one of the utmost experts in the field, and whether by design or luck, he came into possession of these three beetles. For weeks we studied them, and my days were consumed with them. I felt...a kinship of sorts with them, because they were the last of their kind, and I was- I am- an outsider. I wondered whether they could feel, or perhaps even shared, my profound sense of isolation.”

“Oh, honey…”

“One day, Odin stormed into my daily lessons, demanding to know why I was not on the training field with Thor. I tried to explain what my tutor and I were attempting, but he would not listen. He cared only that I was neglecting my training. I should mention that military service is compulsory at one’s majority, which was rapidly approaching for me at that time. He meant well-”

“That doesn’t matter. Your studies were important too,” Claire replied. “What happened?”

“Odin crushed the female,” Loki said softly. “He then told me it no longer mattered and since the beetles were doomed, I would be better served focusing on what did matter. He dragged me to the training field and made me stay there for hours.”

“Jesus.”

“At one point I collapsed, because I had been in the hot sun for so long without food or water. Odin instructed one of the older boys to dump water on me, and when I woke, I was told I was pathetic and not fit to serve in the infantry, let alone as an officer.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Yes, well...I cannot isolate the time I learned how little I mattered to Odin into a single memory; it is a running theme of which he enjoys reminding me.”

“I’m so sorry, Loki. No one deserves to feel that way,” Claire said angrily. “For what it’s worth, you matter to me.” Silence fell once again as Loki wrapped his arms around himself on the other side of the door.

“Thank you.” he murmured after a beat.

“Would you like to know my disappointment?” Claire asked softly.

“Yes, of course.”

“In one of our first meetings, when we were talking about my-” Claire laughed. “My parentage was questionable at best, I believe were your words.”

“Which I regret.”

“That’s mine as well. That I don’t know who my father is. I don’t know what kind of person he is, what his favorite food is,” she said softly. “At least with Odin...you know what color his eyes are, what tea he likes.”

“Is it worse to know, or not to know?” Loki asked somberly.

“I don’t have an answer to that.”

“Hmm,” Loki said absently. “Finish your bath, darling. Meet me on the lounge when you’re ready.” he withdrew quickly, needing a moment alone to collect himself. Claire let him go, already knowing what he needed. She needed it too.

She finished her bath quickly, wrapping her hair in the towel after slipping into her pajamas. She stepped out to find Loki stretched out on the couch with his eyes closed.

“Scoot over.” Claire nudged him gently as she reached the couch, settling beside him when he scooted to make room.

“That is a rather daring head piece,” Loki squinted at her. “You’ll make quite a statement at court.”

“Shut up,” Claire laughed. “I’m not gonna snuggle with you if you’re gonna make fun of me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling,” came the chuckled reply. “What was the marriage advice? From the queen of England?” he asked as they settled on the couch facing each other. Claire laughed softly, smothering her mirth in the pillow beneath her head.

“To find little moments to share, so that even when the job prevents big moments from happening, you have something to hold onto.”

“That is...rather honest.”

“I was going to invite you to join me in the bath, but I knew you would say no,” Claire murmured, glancing over at him. “These rules are dumb; we’re breaking several right now.”

“Indeed we are,” Loki purred. “Less than forty-eight hours to go, little wife.” Claire giggled as she stretched out alongside him.

“Stay for a little while?” Claire asked as tiredness washed over her. Her eyes fluttered closed and she reached for him, tugging him closer with a hand on his hip.

“Of course.”

~~~~

Loki wasn’t sure what woke him, but he quickly realized he’d stayed far too long. The fire had died down, the dying embers casting a faint glow about the dark room. Claire lay tucked into his side, her warm body pressed deliciously close. Her hands clutched his bare skin, having wormed beneath his clothes as they slept.

“Norns,” Loki swore under his breath as he spied the blue tinge on the horizon. As much as he was enjoying their current predicament, he needed to leave. “Darling, I have to go.”

“Did we sleep too long?” Claire mumbled.

“A little. Get to bed, little wife.” Claire hummed when Loki kissed her forehead.

“Wait, let me walk you out,” Claire mumbled as she got to her feet. She rubbed her tired eyes as Loki stretched. Claire seized the opportunity and hugged him, nuzzling her face into his chest as he returned her affection. “I wish you could stay.”

“I shall see you in just a few hours, darling. Will you miss me terribly?” Claire nodded, eyes slipping closed as he squeezed her tightly.

“Yes,” Claire’s voice was muffled against his chest. “See you soon.”

“Sleep well, my darling,” Loki leaned down to kiss her forehead, but he was taken by surprise when Claire rose up to her tiptoes to kiss him. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling him in with the spell she cast. Loki let himself be pulled in, any argument dying as his hands skirted beneath her clothes. His fingers danced along her skin, palms bracketing her ribs as his thumbs just grazed the swell of her breasts. “Claire-”

“Sorry, not sorry,” Claire sighed as she released him, trailing her hands through his curly hair before she fully let him go. “I couldn’t help myself.” she grinned mischievously as he brushed her wild hair from her face. Miraculously, her still-damp towel was still on her head, but several locks of hair had escaped.

“Good night,” Loki drew both her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “See you soon.”

[jennomess]

Well. My bf finally stayed the night after a bit more than a week of not seeing each other, now ninety something recovered. My body is unsure about getting sick or not, and I freaking dreamed again

Oh, and i think he'd be a damn cute caretaker??

Yesterday night we were walking home from the concert he just had, he changed his suit(?) for a jogger and a t-shirt, we're in spring so the weather is nicer but still a bit windy. He was telling me:

Bf: "Look, now you see me in tees again"

J: "Oh, yeah right! And, did you bring your jacket or, not?"

Bf: "Nah, I'm fine now"

J: "But, don't you needed to take another shot today? Careful not to fall sick again"

Bf: "Nah, it would be weird for me to get sick again"

J: "Well, now you have to be careful with me"

Bf: "I don't know, by this point i should have some of your antibodies" (??? i still don't get it)

J: "Hm??" (He explained it to me but i don't want to write what i don't remember)

Bf: "Anyways, at some point you took care of me, so, now it would be my turn"

And he started to play with this embarassing questions like "Would you like the soup in the bed?" "Would you like me to feed you soup?" "Would you like me to cover you with a blanket? "Would you like me to tuck you up in bed?" "Would you like me to tell you a story until you fall asleep?"

All of those while i punched his shoulder and barked at him to shut up after each one. He could have been joking but in his tone i also felt like he would mean them, and i barked to him with love and embarassment. At the end he told me something along the lines of "But you know what? If the time comes i would do it... I would /like to/ take care of you" with cute meaningful eyes. My fcking heart.

When we got home I ended up deciding -just when he's practically done with his cold or whatever, boo- that it didn't matter if i catch it bc if i have to catch something it needs to be rn, i need time to get through it and recover, i have important things to do in two weeks, so, we had a good night

When we went to sleep he took the big spoon this time, and well, we slept. The fact that i got to try the aromatic candle and it didn't work even burning beside us for all it's short life didn't go away, apparently feeding my fantasies, or not fantasies (?) hell, it was so so similar to reality that i don't even know if it was a dream or not 😣

It was that, just like then, he was the big spoon and we were sleeping, then i wake up by the feeling of a soft and quick movement behind me, as if he were pulling apart, and after a second i hear a half stifle and feel more movement, as if he were stretching his free arm as soon as he finished the little rock after his sneeze to camuflage what just happened.

I was, oof, my head was screaming internally "was that a stifle behind me!?" In between my sleep, and playing with the fact that "this was so close! This was so close to the Classico scenario where B sneezes in A's back!!! AHHHH" i swear that i felt the darkness of my closed eyes spinning in my head, and i couldn't freaking move!! I could do nothing about how i felt down there 🫠 and i even remember trying to get the note out of that stifle! It wasn't a C, i remember thinking more of a C#, then idk why later i also started thinking about it being a B but, aaahhhhg.

I also remember pressing my lips internally swallowing a "bless you" bc i didn't know if i should, and bc of how I'm resigned to deny every sound that is not his voice in our nightly videocalls i also doubted if it was a sneeze, and also wondered if i could ask at that moment, or how to, if i could ask about it in the morning, thinking it wouldn't make sense bc it could happen that he didn't remember, or ir would be to embarassing bc who- why would a sane person ask if that sound and movement in the middle of the night was you sneezing? What do a person gets out of it? Does it pass as plain curiosity? I don't, in my fet ashamed mind, think it does. And then i woke up to the sound of the 7am alarm, in his arms, being the small spoon.

And that's how, dear snzblr, now i don't know if it was real or if was a dream.

🫠

[whumpwillow]

Demon's Haven 10

okay woo I've got this and the next three parts after this pretty much all set which is so good of me. how prepared am i ???

anyway here's the penultimate comf chapter before we get into some flashback stuff. platonic bathing trope my beloved <3

—  

masterlist

warnings: blood, past torture, description of wounds, nonsexual nudity, basically just more comf but they are both sad and awkward about it 

—  

Oh, what a fool he was.

He’d been doing everything he could not to anger the witch. He didn’t want to draw her ire just as he had with the angel and now he’d gone and ruined it. He must have, surely, for there was no other way he would think she’d respond to this situation. She was going to leave—had even told him as much—and here he was, asking her not to like he had any right to dictate her decisions at all. He had no will. No choice. No freedom here. She was the one in control and he was at her mercy, and he knew that. He knew how easy it would be for her to call the proper authorities and have him disposed of, or for her to simply do it herself. He was in no condition to fight back against anyone or anything, not in his wretched state, and he was wholly dependent on the kindness she continued to show him for some reason that might forever elude him. And now he demanded more of her? What a fool he was to think he still wielded that kind of power.

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Her words came hesitant, more than a little unsure, but they broke the demon out of his spiraling thoughts. His head snapped up at the same time a gasp escaped his lips. He watched her, hands fidgeting with the cloth of her shirt. She gave him a smile and a little nod, as if to reassure him of her decision. She didn’t even look angry.

It was enough to know that she would even agree at all. She didn’t have to do what he said, and he knew that he had no power in this situation, yet she agreed all the same. The demon found himself echoing her same smile without meaning to, though his was a crumpled copy of hers, shaky and uneven. It seemed to have an effect on her, for her eyes softened, and she stopped fidgeting.

The demon realized he’d just been standing there silently like an idiot, and snapped himself out of whatever trance he was in. He blamed the blood loss. Or perhaps that dreadful trek through the city that had him stumbling over every cobblestone until he felt as if his bones had been ground into fine powder. That must have been the reason for the clouded, lightheaded feeling he had filling his mind.

He stepped over to the bath and ran his fingers through the water. He breathed out a sigh, his shoulders drooping. The warmth felt good, especially after having his wounds cleaned out with ice cold water. He’d have preferred it warmer, but just as the witch had gotten up to get it, a pang of fear so strong shot through him that it propelled him into the monumentally stupid decision of grabbing her wrist.

The demon had been shocked to find out even that wasn’t enough to test the witch’s patience and have him sent back to his former torment, or to an even greater one. He’d grabbed her without warning, and she’d clearly been frightened by the encounter. He could see it in her eyes.

And yet.

She didn’t hurt him. She stayed by his side.

The demon looked over his shoulder. The witch sat on the chair by the door, hands folded nicely in her lap. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked around the room like she had the intention of counting every tile and board that had been used to build it.

He didn’t know what had caused him to grab her like that back then. Or, why now, he had a fear so strong of her leaving that it overpowered his logical reasoning. He shouldn’t be asking for more from her on top of what she was already giving him.

He just…didn’t want to be alone.

Which was ridiculous. He’d been left alone in his cell whenever the angel had left. He’d been alone when trapped in the summoning circle after the witch had gone home for the day.

“Do you…need me to turn around, or…?” the witch asked, her words hesitant.

The demon tilted his head to the side. “Huh?”

The witch’s cheeks flushed and she looked to the side, biting her lip. She gestured loosely at him and the bath.

The demon realized at once what she meant. He’d nearly forgotten since it had been so long since he’d had a proper bath, once that wasn’t filled with holy water and meant to make him scream and thrash.

“Um, yeah, uh. Yes, please. If you will,” he stammered.

He grimaced at the delivery, wondering where all his eloquence had gone and if it had been bled out of him along with everything else. The witch said nothing of it. She merely turned around and the demon slipped out of his threadbare clothes and into the bath.

The water was lovely. The witch had managed to heat it to the perfect temperature for it to relax his tense muscles without aggravating his wounds. Nothing stung. Nothing burned. The demon allowed his eyes to close and sunk deeper, letting the steam envelop him.

He relished the feeling of becoming clean again, ridding himself of the grime of his cell and the dried blood he’d thought he’d never be free of. He inhaled the scent of whatever oils the witch had added to the bath—lavender, most likely—and scrubbed his arms and legs with the soap she had on the windowsill next to the bath. He couldn’t think of words to describe how it was to rid himself of the filth of his cell, of his torment, and to come back to himself and his body. He felt more like himself again with each passing moment.

The problem, because something always invariably went wrong when he was involved, presented itself in the form of his back and hair. He’d no way to wash the bloody scars there, even when he knew that was where the worst of it lie. Gods, he knew. And while he tried slipping down into the water to wet his hair, the movement aggravated his broken ribs and had him wincing and clutching the side of the tub.

He opened his eyes to find the witch at his side.

He jolted, sending water splashing over the edge. The witch backed away, though not before it caught her skirts, dotting them with the filthy water.

The demon ducked his head in what he hoped passed for bowing in his current position. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I—I didn’t—I—” he stumbled over his words.

Stupid.

He’d gotten carried away. He’d allowed himself to think he was anything other than a disgrace, a toy, a sinner. Too caught up in the luxury of warm water to clean his skin, he’d forgotten himself and dirtied the very same person who’d showed him nothing but compassion.

The witch held her hands out, palms facing him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

She put her fingertips to his shoulder, the slightest touch, as if he were something fragile and precious and he didn’t understand—

His breath caught in his chest. Hitched. He looked up at her, kneeling beside him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, and the demon couldn’t see it as anything other than a lie.

Of course he had to apologize. He had so many things to apologize for—for being evil, for hurting people, for his past, for his actions, for being what he was, for being a sinner.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” the witch continued. “You just looked like you were in pain.”

The demon swallowed. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

A soft kind of sadness overtook the witch’s expression then, one he had seen many times in the short time they’d known each other. The demon had no idea he could cause that kind of tenderness to appear on anyone, or that they’d ever waste it on the likes of him.

“I can help you, if you like,” the witch said. She paused, bit her lip again. “Or would that be weird?”

“Please.”

The witch nodded and repositioned herself at his back. She took his filthy, disgusting hair in her hands like it didn’t matter at all to her that it was matted with blood and grime. She set one hand on his cheek and told him to tilt his head back if he could and to close his eyes. He obeyed, leaning into her palm. It was like that of the angel’s—causing him pain with just a touch. It didn’t burn his skin though, not like what he’d experienced over and over again, but elicited a deep ache inside him from some unknown place that filled him to the brim with longing. He wanted at once to avoid it and to experience it forever so that this ache would never leave him, no matter how much it hurt.

He felt the witch pour water over his hair once, twice, and again. She didn’t yank on it or use her hold over him to drag him from the bath and across the floor, like he knew the angel would have done. Had done.

She just rinsed his matted locks, taking care to shield his eyes from the warm water by placing her free hand at the peak of his forehead. He even shut his eyes, allowing them to drift closed without as much fear as he thought he would have in the situation. She had complete control over him—but then again, when hadn’t she? And yet the witch had not once intended to use to hurt him.

The protection ward on the door he could understand. He was a sinner—in his past, he—

The demon shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. Yet that was how the witch must have taken it. She leaned over to his side, her face appearing in his field of view from a slant. She once again asked him if it was too cold and if he was comfortable. The demon could only nod, then correct himself when he realized she wouldn’t know which answer he was nodding in response to. He hadn’t been this comfortable in ages. Warm water that wasn’t blessed, didn’t burn. He wasn’t hurting. He was clean.

The witch returned to her work, gently threading her fingers through his hair to try and remove the knots. She could have pulled on them or cut them—a thought that caused the demon to grimace. It seemed he still had the last vestiges of his former vanity clinging to him like wet cloth on skin.

But she didn’t. She worked with more care than the demon knew he warranted and he couldn’t help but sigh. He tilted his head back into her waiting hands, eyes closed, on the verge of drifting off to sleep from the exhaustion that plagued him and the effects of being immersed in warm water.

“Hey, we’re almost done,” the witch told him.

A hand came to his shoulder and gently shook him awake. The demon opened his eyes and looked up at her from where he lay. She peered down at him, her auburn hair falling around her face. The demon held his breath for a reason he could not name.

In the end, the witch never left him. She sat in the chair she had by the door, which was really more a stool and too small for anyone to comfortably sit on for any long stretch of time, her back turned away from the demon as he emerged from the tub. The water sloshed to the floor, pink and grotesque, and the demon scowled at it. He quickly dried himself, which meant scraping fabric over his open wounds way more haphazardly than he would have liked. As soon as the towel touch the raw lashes on his back, he gasped, a sound as quiet as any but not nearly enough. The witch picked up on it, was about to turn, then stopped herself.

“You alright?” she asked.

The demon nodded, stupidly. She couldn’t even see him.

“Quite,” he replied.

In truth, it stung to try and slide the fabric over his body, but he wanted to move quickly so he could dry the water from the floor before the witch turned around. She’d already done so much for him. She’d stayed in the room even when he could see she’d have preferred to be elsewhere, but it was him and his stupid fear of not wanting to be left alone that had him aching for her to remain in his sight so she could remind him that he was out. He wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t trapped in a cell or heading inevitably toward an eternity trapped in a burning lake where the others disposed of their trash. He was here.

Free.

Sort of.

He remembered the soul bond the two of them shared, and figured he’d deal with the consequences of it later.

—  

next

(taglist in reblogs)

[multifandoms27-blog]

Yu-Gi-Oh dub continuity please. (You can smoosh DSoD dub into the timeline if you want to. I usually do.) Aro ace female reader, neurotypical but weird anyway. (I may be an introvert who spends hours alone by choice and doesn’t have a huge social circle, but I was born to be a ridiculous anime character who dresses flamboyantly, has a sense of the dramatic, and wants to impress people. It’s certainly how I try to live in Real Life.) Reader quickly lets go of past irritations, and is more interested in honesty than not getting her feelings hurt. Smart, and self-teaches herself whatever skills seem interesting or useful to her. Rather childish in a lot of ways even though she is an adult, with a real sense of wonder. Rarely responds to sarcasm with more sarcasm. Reader is also a decent duelist, but not at Kaiba’s level. Physically she’s three inches taller than Yugi, with a very slight build, no makeup, long straight hair past her waist, boyish posture and movement, and a great sense of balance and understanding of moving her own body. Not a lot of physical strength though, she can probably only do about 10 push-ups.

Reader always calls Kaiba by his last name. Kaiba calls Reader by her first name.

Set after the run of the show. Reader and Kaiba have become friends. (Mokuba and Yugi secretly worked a lot behind the scenes for years doing friend-matchmaking in order for the friendship to materialize. 😋) They have similar interests, figured out how to communicate well (although perhaps more brusquely than most,) trust one another, and each believes the other to also be uninterested in romance/sex (which is highly reassuring when you suspect all your friends and relations will one day fall in love and accidentally push you out of their life.)

I’d love some writing with excitement, adventure, trouble, or danger! (If you want to throw in some angst that would be fine as well.) Perhaps the reader and Kaiba end up in a bad situation which is quickly flying out of their control. One of the fun things about Yu-Gi-Oh is the fact this could stem from any number of absolutely bonkers reasons! Maybe they were abducted by aliens to be sold to other aliens as “important Earthlings you can enslave to show off or feel more important.” Or maybe a rival company decided to get quite cutthroat and try to take over Kaiba Corp with literal force. Did they get accidentally transported to a fantasy dimension where they drew the ire of an evil leader? Or maybe an eviler Gozaburo shows up from another dimension and tries to force Kaiba to join him in a multi-dimensional conquest, with the explicit threat that if he doesn’t help, then Kaiba and those he cares about can spend their lives firmly under Gozaburo’s thumb, serving him in much less enjoyable capacities. You can use any scenario that seems fun to write! (You can also include other characters like Yugi, Joey, Mokuba, etc. if it feels like the story needs it. I would love to be friends with any of the good guy Yu-Gi-Oh characters.)

Uh, silly thing, but I don’t like profanity, so it would be great if you could not use any when writing this particular request. (It’s definitely possible to write scary, threatening, creepy dialogue without it, so I hope it doesn’t inconvenience you too much.) Sorry!

And please don’t write the two main characters as having any interest in romance/sex.

Some violence is okay though. Even the dub has a lot of implied violence and brutality. Just, don’t go overboard into R rated territory.

Hope the formatting isn’t too bad.

If you have any questions, or would prefer I send in a different request, or would like me to send in this request again with different formatting, or would like to tell me you are refusing my request, feel free to DM me.

P.S. Do you have a Ko-fi or something similar?

Hiya Dei! No, I don't have anything like that. Maybe I should set up one though?

So sorry this took so long to write, but its finally here! I really do hope you enjoy it!

Edit: Fixed some POV errors and added the opposing companies' name.

Content: Platonic! Seto Kaiba x fem!Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping

Notes: I really enjoyed writing this!! It was like writing an episode of Yugioh and I've always wanted to do that :3 This turned out to be 13 pages long, so yippe!! I had a little funny joke at the end here lol

• ───────────────── •

After graduating Domino high, it’s like everybody hit the ground running with their dreams. Tea moved to America to pursue dancing, Joey and Yugi started working at Solomon’s shop, Bakura left Japan with his father to travel, Tristan began working at his fathers company, Duke left Domino City to spread Dungeon Dice Monsters around…and then that left you and Kaiba.

Kaiba needed someone who could watch Mokuba, but someone he could trust, and someone he could keep close. Joey and Tristan and Tea were out of the question, Duke definitely no, he would be caught dead before letting Mokuba around Bakura, and Yugi can’t keep anybody safe.

So he decided to hire you. A week after graduation, Kaiba approached you with the job position. You were thinking about your future anyway, figuring out whether or not you wanted to go to college, or go straight into the workforce, or do both. When Kaiba laid out the job position for you, you practically jumped on the idea.

“If you can’t handle this job position now, then back out of it while you still can.” Kaiba teased, though to a bystander, he was just insulting you due to his lack of a smile.

“I can handle it, don’t go doubting me just yet, Kaiba.” You jabbed back, also without a smile.

Finally, Kaiba allowed a small smirk to form. “That’s what I like to hear. Come with me, we’ll start the paperwork ASAP, and you start tomorrow.”

It was hardly much work compared to the pay you got from Kaiba. Your job was just to keep close to Mokuba and make sure any shady characters got dealt with. The rest of your time could be spent with Kaiba in his office, or doing something with Mokuba. It truly was a dream - you got to be near your best friend and get closer to the younger Kaiba brother.

So far, no shady characters have gotten past your watchful eye. But about six months after taking the job position, everything flipped upside down.

• ───────────────── •

A new ride and section of the arcade was built into Kaibaland, and Mokuba practically begged you to take him. You agreed, and now you were trapped in the heat with Mokuba and a few other security guards. The guards did a good job at keeping bystanders away from grabbing you or Mokuba, or just getting too close in general. You had to get used to paparazzi, but after the last three years with Yugi and your old friend group, that wasn’t a hard transition.

Mokuba stopped your train of thought by tugging your arm. “(Y/n), (Y/n) look! There’s the new rollercoaster! Can we go on it?!”

The heat was making you nauseous and dizzy. While you wanted nothing more than to go on with him, you knew you had to pass it up so you wouldn’t completely ruin his day. “Sorry, Moki. I need some water, I’m not feeling too good. But I’m sure one of the guards would be happy to go on with you.”

Mokuba pouted, but nodded. “Okay. But can we play games together in the arcade?”

“Absolutely.” You grin, patting the boy's head.

One of the guards, Bishop, volunteered to get on the ride with him. You approved it, knowing you could trust Bishop. He had been with Kaiba for a couple years now, and has always carried out his orders flawlessly. Another guard, Keith, went to grab you a bottle of water. You sat down on a nearby bench and watched as Mokuba got on the ride with Bishop, waved to him, then he was off. Leaning back on the bench, you felt like you were able to relax for the next few minutes. You closed your eyes, knowing the guards will help protect you while Mokuba was on the ride.

More than a few minutes passed, and the sounds of screaming from the roller coaster had stopped. Opening your eyes, you looked up to see if Mokuba had gotten off. To your horror, the ride wasn’t moving. Nobody was getting off or on. Part of the ride was going through tunnels, and since the ride itself couldn’t be seen, you guessed it was in one of those tunnels. Scrambling to get up and run towards the ride, you approached the fear-stricken teen girl trying to operate said ride.

“What happened? Why is the ride stuck?”

“A-ah! Miss (Y/n)! I-I don’t know, the wheels stopped and I can’t get it to work!” The poor girl was shaking, she was afraid she was going to lose her job.

Looking up at the broken up tunnels on the tracks, you had no idea which one the ride was in. Instead, you turned to the girl. “Which tunnel did the coaster go in before it stopped?”

“That one…” The girl pointed to the highest one, before her voice trailed off.

You looked up and saw a helicopter approaching the ride, one that didn’t look like a Kaiba Corp one. You immediately grew anxious. “Keith, Cole, Sam! Code: Mocha!”

“Yes ma’am!” The three men yelled in unison before swiftly taking out walkie talkies to inform other guards of the situation both on and off Kaibaland.

However, it was too late. Two men dropped from the helicopter and - presumably - cut a hole into the tunnel. Your heart rate picked up, and you foolishly tried to mess with the controls one more time, hoping and praying that it would work and you could get Mokuba back safe.

The teen girl next to you gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. You snapped your head back up to see the two men - now with an additional third man - rising back into the helicopter holding a struggling Mokuba.

“Mokuba!!” You screamed, banging your fists against the control panel.

There was nothing you could do. The three men got Mokuba into the helicopter and flew off, then suddenly the coaster began to move, the screams of the other passengers picking back up. Tears pricked your eyes and your head hung low. “Mokuba…”

• ───────────────── •

You sat in Seto’s office, eyes downcast as you informed him of what happened to Mokuba. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and you were afraid he was going to have an angry outburst. He had every right to of course, you just didn’t want something to hit you. Seto took a deep breath before standing.

“You were at the bottom of the coaster?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“And Mokuba was with Bishop?” Seto asked.

“Yeah.”

“I have an idea of what happened then. Come with me, (Y/n).” He grabbed his suitcase, closed his laptop and shoved it in before moving briskly past you.

You got up and quickly followed. You didn’t know if Kaiba was mad, but you decided it would be better to follow than ask questions. Kaiba stopped at Lisa’s desk - his secretary - and informed her to cancel any afternoon plans he had, and have his chopper ready, before continuing his strut throughout the building. They headed for the elevator, and once Kaiba pushed the highest button, you finally began to ask questions.

“Who do you think took Mokuba?”

“Bishop’s old company - Knightly Rook, a rival of Kaiba Corp in the business world for a little while now. But I never thought the company would stoop to this. Bishop was pretty loyal to them, and I had wondered why he quit. Now I know he never really quit.” Kaiba glared at the wall.

“No way…you really think Bishop was in on the kidnapping do you?” (Y/n) asked in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth almost gaping.

Although, it made sense. There had been a third man to join them after Mokuba was caught. Bishop hadn’t come off the ride. Your eyes fell to the ground and you turned your head away. “I’m so stupid…I’m so sorry, Kaiba. I thought he would be safe…”

“This isn’t your fault. It’s mine for not looking into him more.” Kaiba spoke, with an air of irritation in his voice. “We’re going to fix this, one way or another.”

You look up at him. “You mean…?”

Kaiba looks down at you and nods. “We’re going to duel them for Mokuba.”

“Wait, I don’t have my deck-” You objected before Kaiba placed a hand on your shoulder, and the other hand offered you your deck. “Oh.”

“You keep leaving it in my office. Your cards will get bent if you don’t put them in a case.” Kaiba made a mental note to get you one. Maybe he’d get you one with designs of your favorite card on there.

“Are we going to do a double team?” You asked.

“Most likely. The CEO and his assistant are close, and are almost never seen apart.” Kaiba explained. “Of course, I trust you’ll keep up with me during this duel.”

“Yes, Kaiba.” You nod, putting your deck away securely.

The elevator doors opened and they both stepped out into the gleaming sun. It had been an hour since Mokuba was kidnapped, but it felt like it was even hotter outside than before. Or maybe it was your body trying to get used to the fast shift between the heavily air conditioned Kaiba Corp building, and the scorching heat outside. The blades of Seto’s chopper were just beginning to start up, and he continued to stride towards it. After you both sat down and secured yourselves in your seats, Kaiba placed his briefcase on his lap and opened it.

“Can you hold this for me?” Seto asked.

“Sure.” You nodded, grabbing his computer.

He then lifted the bottom of his briefcase to reveal all of his cards. “I’ll allow you to pick ten to boost yourself in this fight. I can’t have you lagging behind.”

You gave him a pointed look. “I can handle myself with my deck.”

“Fine. Five cards, take it or leave it.” Seto moved the briefcase for you to get a better look at the cards.

Grumbling under your breath, you looked over some monster, trap and magic cards before choosing five you figured would benefit you. “Thank you, Kaiba.”

He only hummed, and began assembling his own deck. You saw him slip the three Blue Eyes into the deck of 40 cards, and you cracked a smile, but didn’t say anything, and the smile faded as soon as it showed up. You were nervous. For Mokuba’s safety and wellbeing, for your job, for your friendship with Kaiba. Were you done at Kaiba Corp for this? You hoped not.

Once Seto was done assembling his deck, he turned towards you and noticed your nervous look. He was nervous too, for Mokuba’s safety. But you seemed like you were worrying about a lot more. “...something on your mind?”

“Oh nothing, just going to gamble a child’s life over a children’s card game, what else is new.” You spoke sarcastically.

Kaiba understood. It was a lot for you to take in - before, either he would get Mokuba back himself or you had Yugi and his friends there to help you. Now, you’re Kaiba’s only backup. “I suppose you could put it that way.”

“How long until we get to this company?”

“A few hours. It’s on the other end of Japan. They’ll get there before we do.” Seto explained, looking out his own window.

“What do they want with Mokuba?” You asked.

“Probably something to do with me ignoring their requests for a meeting.” Kaiba spoke dismissively. “I doubt they’d purposely harm Mokuba if they ever want a shot at being in my good graces. Though now, that ship has already sailed.”

You looked back at him. “Kaiba, what happens if we lose?”

Kaiba glanced at you and huffed. “I don’t lose. And just because you’re some second rate duelist doesn’t mean you can go doubting yourself now too.”

Second rate? You thought to yourself. It was a step up from Joey, you supposed. “Thanks, Kaiba.”

“Whatever.” Kaiba shrugged and turned away.

As much as Kaiba acted mean and teased you, you knew by now that it was good fun. He wouldn’t keep you around if he actually hated you, much less let you use some of his cards and duel side by side with him. Kaiba had slowly become an older brother to you, and Mokuba had become a younger brother. You had hoped you’d become a sister to them, if not then a close friend. You watched the world go by as the helicopter flew to the Knightly Rook building. You closed your eyes and decided to rest for a moment before you’d have to hit the ground running.

• ───────────────── •

The helicopter landed and Kaiba shook you awake. The doors opened and once you both stepped out, you were met by a glammed up couple surrounded by guards. The man wore a mahogany suit, looked older (about his 50’s), had a cane that was likely for show, and had a dark grin on his face. Next to him was a woman who looked younger (about her 30’s) with a matching mahogany dress and a white fur shawl that went around her shoulders and down her left arm. On her left hand was a big shiny diamond. The woman laughed.

“Darling, you think they’re here to pick up dear Moki?”

“Don’t call him that!” You yelled, Seto put a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“Where is he?” He asked.

The man spoke. “Follow us, and you shall see.”

“And if we want to stay up here?” You asked.

“Then I guess Moki will cease to be~” The woman giggled, causing your eyebrow to twitch.

“We’ll follow you.” Seto glared at the couple.

“Excellent!” The man exclaimed, clapping his hands twice.

The guards formed a group around you and Kaiba, forcing you two closer to the couple. The man stuck his hand out to shake with Kaiba's. "Reginald O'Malley, nice to finally meet you, Seto Kaiba."

"Can't say the same." Kaiba reluctantly shook his hand, causing Reginald to laugh.

The woman stuck her hand out to you, and you swore her ring almost blinded you. You hesitantly shook it.

"I'm Sasha O'Malley." The glammed out woman grinned.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." You responded, not wanting to touch her any more than you already had to.

Reginald led you and Kaiba inside. The building didn't look like a company building at all. The walls were a golden yellow, with redwood flooring. The windows gave you a nice view over the city. Wasn't this supposed to be the corporate building of this company? Where were the workers? And come to think of it, where was the pilot of your ride here?

Reginald led you over to the sizable fireplace. "Now friends, I'm sure you're wondering why I've gathered you all here."

"Not really." Seto narrowed his eyes at him. "Just get to it, Reginald. I don't have all day."

The man chuckled before pulling a picture frame to the left, and the fireplace began to turn. It revealed stairs leading down. Was that where he was keeping Mokuba? Was that where his workers were?

"Come my friends, for a duel." Reginald grinned and led them down the stairs.

You clenched your jaw in irritation, but took a deep breath and cooperated, following the couple down the stairs. Seto was behind you. At the bottom of the stairs, there was a gigantic arena fitted with four seats. So this was going to be a double team duel.

"Big brother! Big sister!" Mokuba yelled from his cage, dangling in the air.

"Mokuba!" You and Kaiba yelled in unison.

"Beat us in a duel, and we give the boy back. But if we win, we take Kaiba Corp. Deal?" Reginald grinned, holding his hand out.

Seto growled before taking his hand into a bone crushing grip. "Deal."

• ───────────────── •

The duel was seemingly nearing an end. Sasha was the lowest count with 500 life points left, though that was to be expected. You only had monsters in your deck. Reginald was a little harder to beat, and was at 2300 life points. You and Seto were doing good, Seto with 3700 life points and you with 3000.

It was your turn, so you draw. Mirror force.

"I play this card face down, and my Luster Dragon attacks Sasha head on!"

Sasha didn't have any monsters on the field, with Kaiba destroying the last one last turn with his Battle Ox. Luster Dragon has 1900 attack points, so Sasha's points drop to zero. She whines to her husband from across the arena.

"Darling, I lost! Please win for me, I want that company!"

"Of course dear." Reginald nods and draws a card. "I summon Blackeyes, the Plunder Patrol Seaguide in attack mode! Now, I sacrifice him to summon Wattaildragon in attack mode!"

You knew that card. Wattaildragon had 2500 attack points. So while it couldn't hurt Seto, it could still hurt you. And Reginald knew that. "Wattaildragon! Attack (Y/n)'s Luster Dragon!"

The dragon let out a roar before preparing to attack. You acted surprised for a moment before you smirked, catching Reginald off guard. "You forgot about my face down card. You activated my trap - mirror force!"

The card lifted face up to show mirror force, which made the Wattaildragon's attack bounce off and hit it, destroying it completely. Reginald had no more monsters on the field.

"Darling that is not what I wanted you to do!" Sasha yelled but Reginald ignored her.

"Kaiba!" You called.

"Right. Blue eyes! Attack Reginald head on, and finish this duel once and forever!" Kaiba yelled.

The Blue Eyes let out a roar before firing a beam straight at Reginald. His life points had dropped to zero. You and Seto shared an accomplished look and a thumbs up. Then Seto's phone rang.

"Well it's as I expected. Reginald here isn't a rich man. In fact, he's been committing thirty years worth of financial fraud." Seto gave the glammed out couple a dark grin. "You're both going away for a long time."

• ───────────────── •

It turns out that the pilot doubled as an infiltrator. Seto had planned to duel the couple as a distraction either way. He had managed to get all of Reginald's statements and aliases and fraudulent checks. Police surrounded the building, and both Reginald and Sasha were taken away in cuffs, with an added charge of kidnapping. Their guards, along with Bishop, got taken away too.

Mokuba ran up to Seto and (Y/n), hugging them both. "I knew you guys would come for me! That was an awesome duel!"

"Thanks, Moki." You smiled, ruffling his hair causing him to laugh. "We're just glad you're alright."

Seto nodded in agreement. Mokuba grinned up at them. "Well...for being kidnapped and all, you know how you guys can make it up to me?"

"Therapy?" Seto and you spoke together.

"No silly, ice cream and duel monsters!" Mokuba threw his hands up excitedly.

You and Seto looked at each other before laughing. "Sure Mokuba, sure."

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to request, or look for more of your favorite character!