#he just irritates me so much. and even in DR. guess what he's doing. playing video games (tho at least this time it seems to be a joke)

[toastingpencils37]

Just want to rant about Kai a bit, and how he is in Season 1.

Because I fucking hate him in Season 1. I'm sorry, but he's just such an asshole. And not a funny and lovable asshole. Just an asshole, whether it's about the green ninja shit or Nya being a girl.

And he does improve after his True Potential episode (due to character development), but prior to it (and actually during part of it) he's just unbearable to me.

And I remember that as a kid I hated him as well during Season 1.

[tobiasdrake]

Tell me about security, Makoto. This is going to be useful information, I'm sure.

Right, you were telling me that before. This is the front chamber. We can just sorta walk in, and from here we can use this intercom to buzz Huesca, for business purposes or to irritate him for fun.

Fascinated by the couches on either side of the room. What possible function could this room serve that necessitates cushy reclining opportunities? If anything, I'd think they make it easier to hang out for a bit and wait for Huesca to come out so you can harass him in person.

Is that why he stopped leaving the lab?

Okay, but why tho.

No, I get that. You go through the door and the deadly killing machines turn you into swiss cheese. Huesca was clear on that point.

But. Like. Why not lock it anyway? What's being accomplished by not locking it? You said Huesca hasn't left the lab in months so it's not like it'd inconvenience him to lock the door. What's the purpose of leaving it unlocked?

Did your evil lab architect accidentally forget to put a lock on this door? So now the deadly trap chambers are the Villain Lair Design equivalent of brushing yourself off from a faceplant and going, "I, uh, I meant to do that."

Went so hard on designing the three deadly trap rooms that one of them isn't actually a trap at all; It's just there to insulate the rest of the lab from the fucking traps.

Y'all know there are a copious amount of deadly traps that don't get bored and wander? This seems like an unnecessary risk to take.

Weird judgment call to make. Any intruder that manages to penetrate this deep into y'all's business is worth interrogating. Can't interrogate a corpse. Huesca seems more concerned with weird spite than his own self-interest.

...given our brief conversation with the man, that checks out.

So you'd need to go full scuba to get past the gas. Can't trust a filter; You need a fully-sealed oxygen supply.

And not just the mask; We're talking full diving suit. Big goofy helmet and everything.

*snaps fingers* I've got it. Shachi killed Dr. Huesca. Case solved. :P

So. It's. Like. Most gases, then. I guess that can be considered a failure, sure. Huesca's in there kicking himself for not managing to create gas that retains its shape indefinitely.

Which means a Person of Interest could be killed by this room but still go on to do things that will affect the case before they go. We need to keep that in mind.

The hell does that mean? What kind of offensive capabilities does a room full of death deep in your facility offer? Do you hand out invitations to political enemies like, "Hey, come get state secrets, they're in this one specific room! It's going to be left conspicuously unguarded because it's Yomi's birthday and everyone's off celebrating! Now's your chance!"

What kind of hideous Resident Evil dystopia is poor Fuckboy working in? Even though the lab is guarded by the ultra-deadly super-gas emitters, you still have to play laser Simon to even enter the lab.

Why is the keypad the floor? That's so obnoxious. This hallway was designed by rich assholes with no concern for the employees that would have to work here.

...so, Amaterasu, basically. That checks out.

Which means there's no password reset if he forgot it. Maybe that's why he never leaves the lab anymore. If he admits that he should have written it down somewhere, he'll lose the bet and have to pay Yomi 3,000 shien.

Definitely safer to stay in the lab forever and normalize shitting down the garbage chute. It goes straight to the incinerator; It's fine. Huesca lives here now.

He's lying to you. He wants to kill intruders for funsies. Severity of punishment doesn't act as a deterrent; Likelihood of getting caught does. As much as I hate to give Yomi credit for anything, the officers patrolling the halls are doing more to deter intrusion than a secret gas chamber they wouldn't even know about until it's too late.

Huesca is one of those guys who buys a semiautomatic rifle and the highest caliber ammunition he can find "for home defense", then gets excited and breaks out his gun every time the house creaks. He'll swear up and down that it's for self-defense, but the way he gets that gleam in his eye when he talks a little too-enthusiastically about the kind of damage his weapon can do is a bit unsettling, isn't it?

I just assumed. It'd be a pretty shitty deathtrap if the gas chamber's activation immediately flooded Huesca's lab and killed him dead on the spot.

Do you have to clear all nine? Like, step on every panel, but in a specific order? Because if so, there's a very finite number of combinations that are possible.

Oh my god he has a bathroom with a washing machine and everything. I thought I was joking but no, he really did move in permanently.

Well that's anticlimactic. So this lab is immensely lethally secure but only so long as there's someone in it. If the doc steps out for five minutes, you can walk right on in and wait for him.

Maybe that's why he stopped leaving. He realized that the security features only protect the lab when he's inside of it; A fatal error in its design that he doesn't want to own up to.

And there we have the answer to the mystery of the couches. They are, in fact, for lounging around and waiting for Huesca to come out so you can harass him with nonsense. A favored pastime of Makoto's.

Look at how this couch is perfectly sized to his exact proportions. This is Makoto's Harassing Couch.

So he was told to stop working on something, so naturally he sealed himself in his lab and worked tirelessly as you do when you quit a project. That's what you're going with, Makoto?

Come on, man. You're not this stupid. Well, at least we now have the full details, so we can--

Deal with whatever this asshole's on about now. What's up, man? Did you finally remember you were supposed to have me buried in the backlot behind the office? Too late now, I've already met your fancy researcher. We're friends now.

You can go ahead and ask him but you'll have to phrase it in ten words or less. Given how much you love the sound of your own voice, I'm not sure if that's something you're capable of.

[talesfromsiteredacted]

Not A Date, Remember?

After two weeks of testing that was frankly more difficult and stressful for Dr. Clef than for the tested, being me, I did promise my boss a totally not romantic social outing. Turns out, Clef off the clock and out of his "fear me, I'm the fucking devil" shtick is kinda fun. Just so happens, tonight is the costume contest. In hindsight, maybe '40's noir Poison Ivy was a bad costume idea.

It's been a rough patch, I'll admit. But... I'm holding up fine. My boss is not doing so well. He's his usual self in public, but he's been quieter in office when it's just us. He hasn't even played his edgy 'I'm deliberately playing this to irritate the general populace nearby' jams last two weeks. This ain't the Clef I'm used to.

Maybe if I agree to go with him to this silly costume contest, it'll liven him up. I wasn't planning on going, but I do still have a few old cosplay costumes, one perfect to go with his choice of RE4 Leon in a suit. Ah, here's the boss, fresh coffee in hand. Perfect.

"Hey, Bunny. How you doing?" Geez, even his voice went flat. No good.

"I'm here, so... guess I'm okay. You've been a bit out of it lately. You okay, Boss?"

"Yeah, just tired. Guess I need to start sleeping more or something."

He goes to check the weekly reports, and I try to think of how to ask him. After a while, I finally know what to say.

"Boss, the costume contest is tonight. You got plans or anything?"

"Was thinking of skipping it since ol' COG told me no DoomClef this year. You?"

"Kinda why I'm asking. Kind of last minute, but... I do have something that should suffice nicely with your mobster suit."

"Please tell me it's not the tall ass vampire lady. I have a height complex as it is."

"Hey, I grew six inches, and I'm still shorter than you. Nope. Was thinking noir Dr. Isley. Got the green dress, add some matching heels, wrap some vine garlands and fake flowers around me, I'm set."

"You sure you didn't plan ahead?"

"Nah, would have made a snowbunny costume just for you, Boss." I winked, teasing him. Clef turns pink.

"Don't mind me calling you Snowbunny, heh? Can only imagine the outfit. Blue velvet, embroidered silver snowflakes, white faux fur trim. Very cute. Might just have to have something made for you."

"It's not a date, remember? This is just two friends letting off steam."

"Grr. Okay. So, meet here at 6:30, then?"

"You mean 6:30 exactly, or 6:30 Clef Time?" Clef Time being 15-30 minutes later. But, when you're Site Command, only O5 can tell you off for being late.

"Contest is at 7:30, so... normal time. I'm looking forward to this, Snowbuny."

"Me too. Dr. Rights said you look hot in a suit, by the way. Made Dr. Bright a bit mad at her, but... it's Bright, he gets over this stuff quickly."

That settled, we run out the final two hours on the shift clock. While the time winds down, I text Iris for some last minute hair and makeup help. While I'm pretty good with clothes, I suck ass at makeup. Iris is pro level, she can make even Iceberg look good in drag, a near miracle as he's now rocking the villain goatee.

After shift, the transformation begins. I pick my dress, a vintage swing dress in green silk. I dig out my one pair of green heels, and hunt for foliage. By the time Iris is here and set up, I've got plenty of flowers and a long ass bushy ivy garland. Perfect, pin this to my seafoam shawl wrap, and then it's off to hair and makeup. Iris checks my kit. I notice she's decided to be Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, a classic.

"Noir Ivy? Wasn't that your Comicon outfit, day 2? First day you were Isaac Clarke, but bitched about the helmet."

"Yeah, but... my date never saw this, so... I'm going with it. The date was last minute, Sis."

"Who's the lucky guy? I know 049 isn't going."

"Dr. Clef." I mumble. Iris nearly drops the foundation brush. "He's having a rough patch, I just thought I should try being nice to him. He's gone though way way too much."

"Clef? Alto Fucking "Gonna Torture You Suckers With Super Slow Smashmouth on Ukulele" Clef? This is a prank, right?" Iris keeps working, but waits to see if I'm serious.

"No prank. He's not as bad as you've heard, Sis. He's kinda sweet sometimes. Bit weird, but we're all freaks here." Iris motions for me to stop talking while she works. Once she's done with the makeup, she starts working with my messy, wavy, blood red tresses. She settles on a simple loose braid, with a white rose tucked behind my right ear. Then, a crown of ivy is pinned to my head. I slip into the rest of my costume, and Iris admires the outcome.

"Gotta say... you might need a chaperone. I doubt even Dr. Gears wouldn't at least take a few long looks. Good thing you're also good with ice, as this look is straight fire."

"Thanks, Sis. You going with anyone?" We pack up Iris's things while we talk.

"Viktor and Sergei. Viktor is Toto, Sergei the Cowardly Lion. And... Alina, the new girl? Tin Woodswoman. We're swinging by Evie's for photos first, so I gotta go. I'll show you the snaps tomorrow. Later Sis!"

I head to my boss's office, half sure I'm either going to be pranked, or worse, stood up. But... to my surprise, there's the boss man, looking like the perfect Leon Kennedy gangster cosplay. Wow. He really cleans up well, he even shaved. Never mind the weird third eye, the Cheshire cat grin that unnerves even Abel, the slight dad bod, or the torture by ukulele... Alto Clef is fine af.

"Ah... Dr. Isley, I presume?" He removes his hat, bowing.

"Agent Kennedy? Charmed to meet you. I wasn't informed you were quite so handsome."

"Nor was I told how lovely you truly are. Will you allow me to escort you to the party? It's safer to travel in pairs, after all."

"I'd be delighted, Agent Kennedy." I offer him my hand, he raises it to his lips. Not going to lie... I might be attracted to my boss. He then places my hand on his elbow, off we go.

We arrive right on time. Dave at the door does a double take, but lets us in. The music is going, a few couples dancing. After we catch up with a bunch of coworkers, we're off in a corner and I get bold.

"Wanna indulge a fantasy of mine, Doc?" I whisper in his ear. He adjusts his collar, nervous. I go on. "I've always wanted to dance with the devil. Traditionally, there's moonlight, but I'm not big on some traditions. So... may I have a dance with the handsomest devil around?"

"Normally, I'd say no, but since you're so charming, I can't refuse." We step out onto the dance floor just as the music changes from some slow drivelling ballad to... "Jump Jive and Wail" by Brian Setzer Orchestra. Wasn't expecting that, but... okay. Little did I know... Dr. Clef can swing. By the time the night is over, we had danced almost all night, and won second place in the couple's costume division, losing out to Scorpion and Sub-Zero. Not even mad, Draven and Jim may as well have stepped out of Mortal Kombat 11, their costumes were that good.

Party over, and we're walking home. So far... I've remembered to behave, and not do what I want to do: just kiss him already. But... now we're just feet from my door. He likes me, otherwise he wouldn't be here. It's clear I like him too. And things with 049 have fallen apart, both due to us nearly overworking ourselves to death. We parted on good terms, but I shouldn't rush into anything yet. Besides, Clef is my boss. If this goes wrong, there goes my career. Still want to kiss him, though. We're at my door now.

"Rabbit, thanks. This was way more fun than what I had planned." He leans in, presses the softest of kisses to the corner of my lips. Just as he's about to pull away, I reach out, and run my fingers through his hair. My eye gaze into his, and next thing I know, I'm kissing him. His hands find my waist, holding me close. Oh wow... never thought I'd even think this... but if he keeps kissing me like this, I'm inviting him in. Before I can though... the kiss is over. He wants to ask me, I can see it in his heterochromic eyes. He speaks before I can, though.

"Not on the first not-date, Snowbunny. Believe me, it's taking a lot to not give in. But I don't want to rush you."

"So... you doing anything on Friday? How about a real date? Dinner, a movie, maybe bring your hanky to meet my panky?"

"Not sure about the last part, but... dinner? Yes." He sighs, then takes my cheek in his hand. "343 knows I'm not worthy, but yes."

We stand there for a few more precious moments, forehead to forehead. Just in time for my jerk of a neighbor Dr. Iceberg to walk by.

"Gotta say, you two make a cute couple. Poison Ivy and her henchman."

"Fuck off, Julian!" We both shout in unison at his retreating back. The door slams behind him.

[the-iceni-bitch]

The Locked Embrace

Vices Assemble: Chapter 4/?

Pairing: druglord!Thor x fem!Reader

Words: ~6.5k

Summary: The feds are doing their best to bring down Thor’s operation. Good thing he has you and Loki to hold down the fort while he’s gone.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, f receiving oral sex, semi public sex, outdoor sex, borderline overstimulation, female ejaculation, cum play, manhandling), adorable Norwegian nicknames, drug and alcohol use, overprotective/possessive Thor, violence (above canon level), minor gore, mentions of polyamory, SMUT!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: It took a while but it’s finally here! The smut gods were holding out on me but then the muse hit me like a train and I spat this out in a couple hours. Thor is a menace, Loki is a fabulous slut, and I love this series.

I’m no longer doing taglists so follow @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all my latest fics!!

You tapped your fingers irritably on the desk as you stared down the agent who was sitting in your office, smirking slightly when he broke eye contact with you with an uncomfortable shrug.

“Ya know, if you let me know what it is you’re looking for, I could probably save you some time.” Like you didn’t already know.

“Sorry ma’am. We’re just checking out a tip.” Jesus, these idiots sent a rookie to watch you while they searched. Granted, the fact that they set foot on the property for the body farm when it was just a couple interns and your lazy as fuck supervisor working made it seem like maybe they weren’t as stupid as you thought.

“A tip about a dead body on the county’s body farm?” You tried not to act too amused, grateful that you had disposed of the corpse they were looking for in a way that was going to make it impossible for them to make any sort of positive identification unless they wanted to do DNA testing on all the remains at the facility. “Who would’ve thought?”

The young agent was about to say something else when an older, grizzled looking man walked into the room and gave him a scowl, immediately making the rookie shrink in his seat.

“Dr. Y/L/N, can’t tell you how much I appreciate you letting us take a look around.”

“Special Agent Fury, it’s not like you left me with much of a choice.” You gave the man a warm grin as you leaned back in your chair. “Sending all those agents to intimidate my poor little interns.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t hire those poor little interns if you’re gonna let your boyfriend hide murder victims at your facility.” Well, guess the niceties were over.

“Y/N!” Your grin got even wider when a lithe man with a mischievous smirk strode into your office, letting him give you a quick peck on the cheek before he was turning to face your interrogator. “What have I told you about talking to law enforcement without me here, love?”

“Don’t worry about me Loki.” You gave him a soothing pat on the hand as you felt yourself relax. “Agent Fury and I were just having a friendly chat.”

“Yes, well, no more of that.” He tweaked your nose affectionately. “Agent Fury, I assume you have a warrant for the search your men are conducting?”

“This facility works with law enforcement all the time, they should be open for auditing whenever the need arises.” You could see the frustrated tic in Fury’s jaw as he glared at Loki.

“Well, no.” Loki leaned on one arm as he prepared to lay into the man. “This facility is privately owned and operated, and while it does often assist local law enforcement, it does not have a standing contract that requires it to be available to unfounded searches whenever a random agency deems it necessary. In fact, I’m quite certain that Dr. Y/L/N’s agreement with the county sheriff specifically prohibits this type of egregious and unnecessary oversight, not to mention the US constitution. So, please show me your warrant, or, collect your goons and get off my dear friend’s property so I don’t have to sue you personally for performing an illegal search.”

Fury scowled at the wicked grin Loki was giving him, turning to shout into the hall for his team to pack everything up.

“Tell your brother I’ve got my eye on him.” Fury pulled the collar of his jacket up before storming out of your office, frowning at the two of you over his shoulder.

“I’m quite certain he already knows!” Loki’s smile fell a little once the feds had cleared out, turning back to you with a perturbed look on his face. “Where is the giant oaf, darling?”

“Flying back from Toronto.” You stood up and closed the door to your office before turning back to him. “Do you think they knew he was out of the country?”

“Most likely. Where is Sif? Doesn’t he typically have her watching you when he’s out of town?”

“She’s out back giving Val a rundown.” You ran your hand over your face while you leaned back against the wall. “What a fucking shit show.”

“I’m assuming there was nothing for them to find.” He held up his hands in a placating gesture when you frowned at him. “I know, love, just making sure. Still don’t want them thinking they can just stroll in here whenever they want. I’ll check in with Val and make sure there’s nothing incriminating at Thrudheim either. Did they give any indication they were going to try to search the house?”

“No, I’m pretty sure they were only interested in the dead rat.” You let out a deep breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “He’s not gonna be happy about this.”

“No, he’s not. Try to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid once he gets back.” Loki smirked as he sank into your office chair. “You know, like murder an FBI agent. Or one of those poor interns.”

“I’m very sure I can calm him down.” You hoped you could anyways, last time the feds had pulled you into their investigation he’d beaten the shit out of several low level guys trying to find out which of them had implicated you. “How’s it going with the underwear model? What was his name, Raffaele?”

“Oh, things are going very well with Raffaele, and Sabine, and Ysabel.” The man’s grin grew even wider at your light laugh. “Thanks in no small part to that absolutely fantastic drug the nervous man developed.”

“Life’s just a constant orgy for you, isn’t it?” You shook your head at him when he shrugged nonchalantly at you. “You filthy little slut.”

“You wound me, Y/N.” He placed his hand over his heart in a sarcastic gesture. “Here I thought we would have a nice bonding experience after your little escapade at the last negotiation at Thrudheim.”

“Shit, who told you about that?” All you needed was him telling all his brother’s associates about how you had let Thor’s new partners eat you out in the middle of a packed club.

“Darling, who didn’t tell me about that.” He gave you his arm as the two of you started heading back out to your vehicles, patting your hand in a soothing gesture when you groaned. “Don’t worry love, it’s staying inside the inner circle, and none of us are stupid enough to bring it up in front of my dear brother.”

“Well, that’s something.” You sighed heavily once you were outside, smiling softly at Sif when she joined you and opened the door to the Range Rover for you. “Come back to the house and drink with me, Loki. It’s been such a long time. Unless you have to get back to your harem.”

“Ah, the harem is on a shoot on the Amalfi coast, so I am free. And I will never say no to indulging in the fabulous array of vodka my brother keeps in stock.” He instructed his driver to take his town car back to his penthouse downtown before climbing in after you. “Tell me you have some of that New York cocaine, love. If we’re going to be up all night, I’m going to need a boost.”

Thor was actually relatively relaxed when the jet started making its descent, finishing off his chilled vodka with a deep sigh as he chatted idly with Heimdall. The business in Toronto had gone extremely well, Carol and the Brooklyn boys coming to an amicable agreement that benefited everyone and was set to make them all quite a bit of money. He couldn’t wait to get home and spend the entire night celebrating by burying himself in the soft, wet treasure between your legs.

As soon as the plane touched down he turned his phone back on and frowned at the number of notifications that started popping up, finding the most recent voicemail from Val and pulling it up. His mood immediately soured as he listened to it, his hand tightening into a fist that he smashed against the armrest as soon as the message ended.

“Fuck! Heimdall, you’re fucking driving!” He barely waited for the plane to come to a stop before he was moving to the exit and wrenching it open. “The goddamn feds hit the body farm. Fuck!”

“Shit, Y/N?” Both of them ran down the stairs towards the Ferrari and practically jumped into their seats, barely buckling in before Heimdall peeled out.

“She hasn’t fucking reached out. I’m calling Val.” He could feel his anxiety shooting up as he dialed, thankful he hadn’t decided to do any coke on the plane. “Val, what the fuck is going on?”

“Hey boss.” He growled at her relaxed tone when she picked up, after the number of messages she’d fucking left she’d better have a good reason for sounding so unfazed. “Before you freak the fuck out, everything is completely fine. Loki and Y/N managed to scare off the feds.”

“Thank fuck.” He wasn’t entirely thrilled to hear his smarmy brother was back in town, but the man was a good fucking lawyer and you did love him. “Why did they show up?”

“Sounds like they got a tip about that rat we took care of last month.” She still sounded extremely nonchalant, but that was Val. “I’m thinking Stark might have an in with the feds if he really is thinking of making a move out here. Can’t think of anyone else who might have tipped them off.”

“Goddamn it. Why did they get access to the farm at all?” You kept that property on a lock, even if they had a warrant you would have put up serious blocks. 

“They waited until Y/N had a night off and intimidated the fuck out of that dumbass supervisor.” 

“That motherfucker.” He knew in the long run it was good having someone around who wasn’t going to ask a lot of questions, but he would’ve felt a helluva lot better if you had let him put one of his people in the spot instead. “I told her to get rid of that moron.”

“Yeah, well.” He rolled his eyes when he heard Val murmur soothing sounds to some fucked out sounding woman in the background. “Y/N does what she wants.”

“Where the fuck is she?” He hated the fact that you hadn’t reached out to him. “Why didn’t she call?”

“Sif said she headed back to your place with your brother. Sounds like they were planning on getting fucked up.”

“Of course they were.” The man was a fucking hedonist. “Keep me updated, Val. Heimdall, we’re good to head back to the house.”

He could feel his mood growing even more sour as they made their way through the city, thinking through all the potential scenarios that could have come from the feds moving in on your territory. The most important thing to him was keeping you off the radar of law enforcement and his enemies, as difficult as that was with the nature of your job and your pretty public relationship. And the thought that you could have potentially been brought in, even if it was just for questioning, was making him see red. You were his whole fucking world, and he’d burn everything down before he let anyone take you from him.

His mood was worse once they pulled up to the house, completely oblivious to the indulgent grin Heimdall was trying to hide at his petulance. As soon as the car came to a stop he was leaping over the door and storming inside, determined to find you and immediately determine whether you were in any sort of danger.

“Kjære?” Where the fuck were you?

“Ah, brother!” Loki grinned at him from the couch once he walked into the entertainment room, his fingers running through your hair where you were sprawled over his lap while he waved a mostly empty bottle of Beluga Noble Gold at him. “Come join us in our reveries! We’re celebrating thwarting the efforts of the Federal Bureau of Investigation to bring down your lucrative enterprise!”

“Jesus Christ, do you ever not talk like an asshole?” He ran his hand over his mouth as he surveyed the two of you, sighing at the mountain of cocaine that was piled on his coffee table. “Kjære, how much coke did you do?”

“ Kjæreste!” You beamed at him as you straightened up, wobbling slightly from the mix of alcohol and narcotics before you were leaping into his arms. “Just a little, teeny tiny bit of coke.”

“Uh-huh.” The way your pupils were blown wide open made him think you’d indulged even more than you typically did, but you always went a little nuts when you celebrated with his slut of a brother. “I was worried about you, elskling.”

“Aww, snuppa!” You pressed your lips over his face in gentle kisses until you felt him relax, your fingers winding through his hair when your mouth met his and he let you curl your tongue against his own. “I’m fine. I can handle myself. And Loki was such a big help! You should really thank him, baby, he’s such a good lawyer.”

“I am a fantastic lawyer.” Loki straightened up after doing a couple more lines and threw a grin and a wink at the two of you before downing the rest of the vodka. “Fuck, this is good shit. I need to visit you two more often.”

Thor rolled his eyes at the man, but then you were tracing his jaw with your tongue and grinding against him with a low moan and suddenly he wasn’t quite so moody anymore.

“Loki.” Thor’s voice was a deep growl when you shoved your hands under his shirt and started to undo his buttons.

“Yes, brother?” God, the man was frustrating. Giving the two of you a lascivious grin while he leaned back on the sofa.

“Get the fuck out.” He slammed you into the wall and dug his hands under your skirt, pulling your hips against his while he smashed his lips to yours until you were whining.

“Right.” Loki rose on unsteady legs to make his way to the guest house. “See you in the morning for brunch, darling.”

You couldn’t answer him, your entire body consumed with the way Thor’s lips and hands were moving against you until you were a pliant, wanton mess that he had to hold up while he ripped your clothes off.

“I missed you so fucking much.” His fingers wound through your hair to keep your mouth molded to his while you shoved his shirt off his shoulders. “Do you know how fucking worried I was when I landed and saw all those calls from Val? I don’t think I can ever leave you again, kjære .”

“Kjæreste…” You couldn’t finish before he was sliding his tongue between your lips and growling with need. “Baby, don’t do something stupid.”

“The only stupid thing I did was spend any time away from you and this perfect pussy.” He moved one hand between the two of you to undo his fly, purring when you bent your head to rub your face into his neck. Both of you moaned when his tip caught against your entrance, barely teasing against your clit before he was sliding into you easily. “Ah, fuck, this is exactly where I belong.”

He braced a hand against the wall and started grinding against you nice and slow, the angle he was holding you at letting his pubic bone rub right against your clit until you were panting into his mouth.  Your hands framed his face while you flicked your tongue against his gently, your eyes never leaving his as you writhed against him desperately. The gentle movements he was making were holding you right on the edge, just enough to make you whimper in that way that drove him fucking crazy.

Both of you lost yourselves in each other’s eyes, your pupils blown wide and drawing each other in deeply while your lips met gently over and over while you moaned wantonly. His mouth started trailing down your throat slowly, his teeth occasionally drawing bruises against your skin until he could wrap his lips around your breast. You whined when the sensation echoed in your core, your cunt clenching around him desperately as you yanked on his hair and arched into his face.

 “Kjæreste, need more.” Your voice was a pathetic whimper as you begged him, the feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple making your clit throb with desperation. “Ugh, please!”

“That coke got you all worked up, kjære?” He released your nipple with a wet pop and kissed his way to your other breast so he could lavish the same attention on it’s sister. “You want me to fuck you like you deserve?”

“Oh, yes!” You needed it so bad, your pussy fluttering at just the promise of his words. 

His hands moved down to your hips and then he was rutting into you like an animal, dragging you down on his cock over and over like it was the easiest thing in the world. You fucking loved when he manhandled you, letting yourself go as he completely took over and drew every ounce of pleasure from your body. The way your tits bounced with each drive of his hips was making him feral, his cock hitting you so deep it was all you could do to keep your eyes from rolling back in your skull. 

You could feel bruises raising on your hips from how hard he was gripping you, a steady stream of whimpers falling from your lips as you dug your fingers into his shoulders to keep yourself grounded as warm pleasure started spreading from your core rapidly. That fucked out look on your face was driving him wild, his hips punching into you at a now violent rhythm until your head started lolling on your neck when you lost yourself in how good he was making you feel. 

He hit the spot you needed and you screamed, giving him the cue to hit it repeatedly until your body went stiff and you quivered in your release. His arms snaked around you and pulled you close so he could smash his lips to yours, practically crushing you against the wall while he growled into your mouth and filled you with his spend. You sucked on his tongue when he thrust it between your lips, your pussy fluttering wildly around him as aftershocks shook your system.

“Kjære, you're so beautiful.” He could spend all day lost in that fucked out look in your eyes. “Still haven’t got a look at that pretty cunt, though, and you know I missed her almost as much as you.”

You yelped when he suddenly tossed you into the air, catching your thighs and pulling you up to straddle his shoulders until your pussy was level with his face. Your head thudded back against the wall when his breath fanned over your slit, his fingers pulling you apart until your full, throbbing cunt was filling his vision and making him groan.

“Oh, elskling, fuck.” His spend was leaking out of you slowly and making him hard again. “If that isn’t the prettiest sight in the fucking world.”

“Ah, shit!” You squeezed your thighs around his head and dug your fingers into his scalp when he dragged his tongue over you, collecting your mixed releases with a lewd slurp until his mouth was full of the two of you and he could lave his tongue over your clit. “Oh… oh fuck.”

It barely took anything for him to make you come, your breath leaving you in a wretched sob when every muscle in your body clenched the strain of another orgasm so soon. As soon as your legs released him he was dropping you into a fireman’s hold and drawing your lips back to his, opening his mouth and letting the thick cream he had drunk from you flow over your tongue. 

“What a good fucking girl.” He purred when you swallowed the cum greedily, carding your fingers through his hair and whining softly when he pulled away from you so he could walk up the stairs. “Oh, kjære, think I’m gonna make you come at least four more times before I let you fall asleep.”

Thor left you in your California king bed after cleaning you up and letting you fall asleep leaned against his chest, making sure to move softly as he left the room while the sky lightened. Heimdall and Val were waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, both of them looking rather serious as they all walked out to climb into the Range Rover.

The entire ride was complete silence except for the sound of Thor cracking his knuckles. He was glad Fandral had found this asshole fast, he didn’t like the thought of leaving things too long.

They pulled up to the dockside warehouse in just under 30 minutes, Thor giving Hogun a terse nod when he climbed out of the SUV and strode inside.

“He said anything?” He stripped off his jacket and handed it to Heimdall before working on unbuttoning his cuffs so he could take off his shirt.

“Not yet, but we haven’t really provided any incentives.” Hogun held the door open for him. “Figured you’d want to do that yourself.”

“I appreciate that.” Thor frowned when he got a look at the man who was duct taped to the chair in the middle of the room, rolling his neck on his shoulders to loosen up. “Well, Randy, you really fucked up.”

The supervisor from the body farm looked absolutely miserable, sobbing uncontrollably and trying to cower away from Thor with little success. Val and Heimdall just leaned against the wall and started chatting idly, there was no way the boss was going to want anyone else to lay a hand on this asshole.

“Please, I don’t know what you want!” God, the man was a disgusting mess, Thor almost didn’t want to hit him with how soaked with tears and snot he was. “You have the wrong…”

Thor didn’t give him a chance to finish before he slammed his fist into his ribs, smirking to himself when he felt the satisfying crunch of his bones breaking.

“Please, keep lying to me.” He stood back up and let the man wheeze for a second. “Nothing would make me happier than beating you to death with my bare hands. Now, how long have you been working for the feds?”

“If I talk to you, you’ll let me live?” 

“No, but maybe I’ll kill you faster.” Thor grinned when the rat gave a defeated sob. “I’m not feeling particularly generous this morning. Your little arrangement with the feds put my girl in danger, and there’s pretty much no better way to piss me off. So, what’s gonna happen is, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you with my fists while you tell me everything you did and what you know, and once I’m satisfied, I’ll put my hammer through your skull and end your miserable existence. I think that’s fair.”

He gripped the back of the chair and rammed his fist into Randy’s face, whipping his head to the side viciously as blood sprayed from his mouth and stained the front of Thor’s shirt.

“How long have you been working for the feds?”

“Three years.” What a fucking pussy, this was going to be easy. 

Thor shook the gore off his rings with a shrug before punching his fist into the snitch’s abdomen, stepping back when he was finished while the asshole coughed up some more blood. He yanked him up by his hair and slapped him in the face with a look of disgust, waiting for his eyes to focus again before continuing his questioning.

“What did you tell them?” The idiot looked like he was going to pass out so Thor shook his head violently until he came to. “Don’t think you’ll get out of this if you go unconscious. I’ll just have my people patch you up and start all over tomorrow.”

“They just wanted to know whenever you or one of your people stopped by the farm.” He sighed and spat out a couple of teeth before going on. “Or if Y/N ever brought in a body with weird paperwork.”

“Don’t you fucking say her name.” Thor hissed through his teeth and smashed his fist into his mouth. “You’re going to tell me everything they have, whether there’s any additional surveillance, exactly how bad you fucked me and my girl over in extreme detail so I can fix this clusterfuck you’ve gotten me into. And make it fast, I'm sick of looking at your face.”

Three hours later he was bent over a sink and scrubbing the blood and gore off his arms and hammer as he frowned at Val over his shoulder.

“You want us to drop him at the farm, boss?”

“No, we’re gonna cool off on using the farm for a while.” Fuck, was that brain on his slacks?

“You sure that’s a good idea?” She pulled out her knife and flipped it lazily through her fingers. “The whole point of that place is so if they search it they won’t find anything, and it sure seems like it’s doing its job.”

“Don’t care, I want the heat off Y/N.” He shoved his head under the faucet to cool off and help his adrenaline go down, taking the towel she handed him and running it over his face when he stood back up. “Call that asshole Quill and let him know we’re gonna hire him for disposal for the near future.”

“Seriously?” She stopped her movements and gave him an incredulous look. “Didn’t you call him and his team ‘God’s perfect idiots’?”

“Yes, but they’re useful idiots.” He sighed as they started to head outside, taking his suit jacket from Hogun and putting on some sunglasses to help with the glare from the mid morning sun. “Just make it happen. Don’t call me for the next two days unless it’s an actual emergency, I need a fucking break.”

Val rolled her eyes as she started dialing her phone, leaning against the wall and bracing herself to talk to one of her least favorite morons. She’d probably have to spend the next three days dealing with that jackass, maybe she should ask for a raise.

“Y/N isn’t gonna be happy about you pulling away from the farm.” Great, now Heimdall was scolding him about this. “You know she worries about you almost as much as you worry about her.”

“She’ll be fine. I’m done discussing this.” It’s not like he couldn’t fuck some sense into you if you decided to fight him on it. He couldn’t do that to everyone else, though. “Just fucking drive, I need some sleep.”

Heimdall shrugged as he started heading back to the house, and Thor let his eyes drift closed as he leaned back in his seat, just wanting to lay in bed with your body wrapped around him and sleep for the next 12 hours.

The SUV coming to an abrupt stop jolted him awake, frowning at Heimdall softly before getting out of the vehicle with a growl. He stretched before walking inside, striding through the house and frowning when he couldn’t find you. Laughter drifted into the house from the doors that opened to the pool area, and he rolled his eyes as he wandered out to the back patio to find you and his skank of a brother.

“Kjæreste!” You beamed at him when you met his eyes, kicking your feet lazily as you leaned against the edge of the pool and sipped on your mimosa. “I was so sad when I woke up and you were gone. Thank goodness Loki was here to keep me company.”

“I’m sorry, kjære.” God, every time he looked at you it was impossible for him to hold onto his bad mood. “I just had to take care of some last minute business. But now, you have me all to yourself for the next two days.”

“Really? What about my work?” You grabbed a slice of melon from the tray you had set at the side of the pool and took a very suggestive bite.

“Fandral is going to be taking over Randy’s position and was happy to cover you for the next few days.”

“Ah brother, please tell me I’m not going to have to intercede for you with those federal agents, again.” Loki laughed lightly when you splashed him, swimming away from you and rolling his eyes at Thor.

“It’s handled.” Thor felt drunk looking at you, slipping out of his shoes and prowling towards you as he licked his lips.

“Baby, wait, your suit!” You were laughing hysterically when he started walking into the pool fully clothed, squealing with delight when he waded over to you and dove beneath the surface so he could wrap his arms around your waist and lift you above the water while he pressed gentle kisses all over your torso. 

“I’ll buy a new one.” He sighed deeply when you wound your fingers through his hair and arched yourself into his face. “C’mere.”

You whined when he drew your face to his and slid his tongue between your lips, opening up to him and wrapping your arms around his neck while you drank in his kiss. Just like that, your whole world narrowed until it was just the two of you, your body reacting viscerally to being in proximity to him as your clit immediately started throbbing when he pinned you against the side of the pool.

“Well, I’m going to head back to my place.” Loki hopped out of the pool without sparing a second glance at you two, not that you were paying attention to him either. “Call me if you need me. Always lovely seeing you, dear.”

You just waved your hand over your shoulder at him, Thor still devouring your mouth with his until you started grinding against him desperately.

“That’s it, love. Fuck, you’re so needy.” You were whining against his lips as you wordlessly begged him for something, anything to relieve the growing heat that was throbbing in your core. “You want me to take you apart until you can’t remember your own name?”

“Yes, Thor, please.” It was upsetting how quickly he could turn you into a pathetic mess, but at least he always took care of you.

“Oh, kjære. I want you to come all over my face until the only thing I can taste for the next two days is you.”

He lifted you out of the pool with no effort and set you on the edge, ripping off your swimsuit bottoms and pressing gentle kisses all over your mound and the insides of your thighs. Slick was already starting to soak his face as he nuzzled deeper into your sex, groaning as the scent of you overtook his senses until he completely lost himself. When his thick biceps wrapped around your thighs, you collapsed, his tongue finally dragging over the cut of you and sending jolts through your system.

You moaned low in your throat when he started massaging your clit with his tongue, your hips rolling against his face slowly while you wound your fingers through his damp hair. Each tiny whimper that fell from your lips spurred him on, his tongue dragging over your slit heavily until he could feel you throbbing against his face. His lips were eager as he drank you in, wrapping around your entire sex so not a single drop of you went to waste. Once he was satisfied he slid his tongue inside you and curled it, the pitiful wail that came out of you making his cock twitch until he felt like he needed to hump the wall of the pool.

The thick muscle curled inside you and stretched you open, hitting every spot you needed it to while he grunted happily into your cunt and his lips brushed against your clit. God it was easy to lose himself in you, those beautiful sounds and tiny movements making him want nothing more than to spend the rest of his life buried between your thighs. He could tell you were close when you started fluttering against his face, your breath hitching in your chest and your thighs trying to suffocate him as you got closer and closer.

His lips wrapped around your clit so he could suckle on you softly, a scream ripping from your chest when you came suddenly. You could feel his satisfied groan when your release flowed into his mouth, his eyelashes fluttering against your thighs as he pressed his face even further into you so he didn’t miss anything. 

As soon as you were finished he pulled away so he could strip out of his suit, the soaked fabric sticking to his skin and making the process more difficult than he would have liked. You just laid there panting as you came down, finally coming back to yourself when Thor rose out of the water suddenly and sprawled himself on top of you, the cold pool water that was covering him soaking your skin and cooling you off even as the sun warm stones heated your back. 

He grinned against your lips when you giggled breathlessly, his hands skimming up your sides until he could pull your top off and toss it aside to float away in the pool along with his suit. His arms wrapped around you until he could manhandle you to lay on your stomach with your spine twisted so he could still keep his lips molded to yours. 

“So fucking good for me.” His fingers wound around your throat so he could keep your head tilted back while he forced your thighs further apart with his knees. “God, I love you and this tight little pussy. Tell me who you belong to, kjære.”

“Y- unh- you, just you.” Your body arched back into him when he slowly slid into you, his thick cock stretching you open perfectly in this position while you whined with desperation. “Oh god, Thor!”

“That’s right, elskling, so fucking perfect.” He pulled out of you halfway before snapping his hips forward again, nuzzling into your neck and grinning at the yelp you gave him. “Tell me what you want, kjære. You want me to go slow?”

“No, please. Fuck me.” Your fingers scrabbled over the stones when he repeated the rough movement, desperate for something to anchor you as he started the process of completely destroying you. “Ugh, fuck, want you to ruin my pussy. Fucking take it.”

The only warning you had was his feral growl into your hair before he was slamming into you, his hips slapping wildly against your ass and making it bounce under him as his teeth scraped over your neck. You were already sobbing, your throat hoarse and raw from all the wanton noises he was drawing out of you while his cock dragged over that perfect spot with each punch of his hips. 

He barely changed the angle and you came with a shriek, your entire body going rigid before you vibrated underneath him. Your release soaked his cock while you fluttered wildly around him, your cunt trying to pull him even deeper as he continued fucking into you viciously and sending you hurtling towards your peak again at an alarming speed.

“Thatta girl, fuck, you’re perfect.” The low purr of his voice made you moan when his chest vibrated against your back, your body arching beautifully so he could plunge even deeper inside you. “Gimme one more, kjære, then I’m gonna fill you up.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head when he wound his bicep across your throat, the pressure on your jugular and trachea making you throb around him. That thick vein that ran under his cock was nudging against your swollen clit and making you delirious, every single sensation he was submitting you to making it impossible for you to focus on anything aside from the shockwaves that were shooting through your system.

It was almost too much, the man was an expert in your pleasure and honestly one of his biggest points of pride was how well he could pull your orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were a weeping mess he had to nurture back to full consciousness. He could feel your tears and drool running over his arm as you wailed with pleasure, your whole body shaking as a new kind of pressure started building in your core.

“Ah, fuck. Thor… shit!” You were going to pass out, he was fucking you so good, you almost couldn’t handle it. “Oh god, I’m gonna squirt.”

“Yes, oh please, baby.” He increased the pressure on your throat until you dug your fingers into his forearm to try to anchor yourself. “C’mon, do it. Come for me.”

You shrieked when your body curled back on itself, Thor growling into your hair when he felt the warm spray of your release shoot over his thighs. It didn’t seem possible, but his rhythm grew even more frantic until you were jolting underneath him like a rag doll, your body going lax so he could just use you for his own pleasure. He buried his face in your hair and roared, thrusting his hips into you as far as he could and fucking his thick cum into you with stuttering jabs until he was spent.

The two of you collapsed against each other when you were both finished, Thor’s body practically smothering you under his weight as you breathed deeply to try to come down. Aside from the mixture of your releases that had soaked both of your thighs, the sun and your activity had dried to two of you off, warmth flooding your systems as you tangled your limbs together in your post-coital haze. You purred happily when he buried his face in your hair, feeling his grin as he started to roll you over so you were facing him.

“Two whole days with you all to myself?” You beamed up at him when your eyes met his, running your hands through his hair and arching your back so he could wrap his arms around you. “What d’you have planned, kjæreste?”

“I’ve got quite a few ideas.” He wrapped you around him and rose to his feet in a rush, grinning at your happy little squeal. “First though, we’re gonna get you something to eat and drink. The only reason I want you to pass out this weekend is from my cock or my tongue. You may need crutches by the time I’m done with you.”

[writing-in-april]

Green with Envy

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer gets green with envy over something reader can’t control angering reader- hot and heavy makeup sex ensues.

A/N: hey guys 🥺 this is my sixth fic for my 1250 follower celebration and this is a day late- thank you to everyone who was super nice and considerate about me pushing this off till today- I was having a super hard time emotionally last night and I needed some time to myself. Again thanks so so much- this is based off of a combination of this request and this request for jealous Spencer. Also part two to Dr. Jekyll will be out tonight or tomorrow depending on if I can finish it- still a little bit behind schedule from me pushing this off last night. Thanks for reading 🥺

Warnings: 18+, Someone’s harassing reader at work, Spencer is a jerk at first I promise he apologizes, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (F receiving)

Main Masterlist Word Count: 2.1k

“Could you go and check case evidence? And bring the detective with you.” Hotch had approached me, giving me orders for the next step to take in the team’s investigation. I accepted them with no discernible dissent in my voice towards Hotch, even though I would have rather stayed with Spencer working on the geographical profile. Especially since the detective had not taken my subtle hints of turning him down when he flirted with me. Unfortunately like many of these instances it was just easier to keep my mouth shut rather than cause problems with the police department we were liaising with. Though I still did know if I’d I had told Hotch he would’ve understood and changed it with a drop of a hat. it was still just easier to not say anything and power through the case, however sad and disappointing it was.

The detective had been hot on my heels ever since we had touched down here. At first it had been endearing and I just carefully let him down, saying a simple no to coffee.

I was sure he got the impression that if he ‘convinced me’ more he’d get me to say yes. I hadn’t told him until later that I had a boyfriend because it hadn’t been his business. I had only told him with a snippy tone in frustration when he would not let up. Unfortunately for me again he seemed to take it as a sign of ‘playing hard to get’ and did not stop his pursuits. I should probably tell Hotch about it before I punch him in the nose.

I was frustrated and annoyed, plus basically every other negative feeling in the book. I just wanted to be alone, or with Spencer.

When I finally got time to slip out of the room for a breather I scampered my way over to where my boyfriend was as he always gave me some sort of solace.

Unfortunately, it seems like the universe was against me this week.

Spencer’s eyes usually held not one ounce of anger, especially not towards me. When he flashed me a glare I got a little angry myself. What had I done to face the wrath of the genius? His demeanor towards me wasn’t doing anything to squash my bad feelings as it normally did, right now it was just fueling the flames.

I decided to just ask him upfront after a third glare was flashed in my direction instead of dancing around the issue any more, we did have a job to do, “Hey- Spencer, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His tone was clipped and sharp, sharp enough that it felt like it could cut me.I wouldn’t have been that surprised if it did. It was obvious that ‘nothing’ was not true, there was obviously something going on.

I decided to ask again just to be sure, though there was definitely a possibility I was going to be snapped at again, “Are you sure?”

The harsh glare I was given was more piercing than the previous ones, cutting me deep.

“Yes, I’m sure!” Was whispered shouted at me along with the glare. It took every fiber of my being not to snap his head off even harsher than what he had done to me. Blinking back tears I got up and stormed off, completely done with the day- with this case. I just wanted to put this case behind me, putting it in the files to never be thought about by me again.

—

When we got to the hotel, after we were finished for the day, there was an eerie silence that fell over us. The silence only held for a moment as we stared at each other. I wasn’t going to speak before he was and if it wasn’t an apology I didn’t know if I had the energy left in me to say anything back.

I had ended up telling Hotch what had been going on with the detective, it had become too much for it to be reasonable to brush off (though in a perfect world brushing off someone like that wouldn’t be a reality but that’s just a daydream of mine I guess)

I stood at the other side of the room for a minute waiting to see if he’d say anything or if we’d be dancing around each other like this for the rest of the night.

He ran his hands through his hair a few times, looking like he was trying to collect his thoughts and sat down on one of the beds in the room. I wondered also if I’d be slipping into the second untouched bed by the window tonight.

“I-I’m so sorry.” My only response at first was a slight hum from the back of my throat while I processed my own thoughts. He seemed sincere, I wanted to believe he was sincere that is.

“Sorry for what?” On the ride back to the hotel, once my irritation towards his attitude had somewhat satiated in the cool silence of the car, I had figured out what he had been bothered by. Spencer wasn’t all that hard to read once I got to know him. However, I wasn’t going to provide the reason for it, I still wanted to hear the reasoning from his own mouth.

“I was envious- jealous of you and the detective today.”

“You were envious?” Being green with envy wasn’t something that Spencer had ever expressed in our relationship before. Being envious- or jealous as most people would call it could be something to be played with in a relationship. It’s an emotion to be delicately handled otherwise the relationship could be filled with possessiveness and aggression.

Spencer was for sure out of line earlier today, he was certainly right when he said I’m sorry.

But, since he had said sorry and that I could tell he was sincere, maybe there was still a chance to play with the delicate emotion in a way that would not crack the foundation. Plus the added fact that I didn’t need to ask for an apology was comforting. There was no need for a fight when the person at fault admitted it. And, in time I’m sure when our relationship has had more time to build a larger foundation, those feelings of envy would not be so easily provoked— unless of course if it was time to play with those delicate emotions.

“Y-yeah, I was getting mad that I wasn’t the one that you were with today. A-and- I also didn’t like that the detective wouldn’t stop flirting with you…” His stuttered apology wasn’t what I was totally paying attention to, though don’t get me wrong I did appreciate it. What I was focused on was how much I wanted to claim him, to show him how much I was just as much as he was mine.

“Well, I’m glad you apologized, I accept it and I understand where you were coming from- plus the case hasn’t been easy on any of us. Just don’t ever do something like that again, please.” Spencer’s shoulders slumped from a sigh and an added nod, relaxing from my words after being tense with anxiety. Sauntering over to him after I had accepted his apology with one plan in mind made my panties wet with anticipation. When I straddled his lap his eyes blew wide, not expecting these turn of events. I grabbed the back of his hair, not too harshly, just enough to get a firm grip to tilt his hair back while I spoke into the shell of his ear, “And, now I’d like to show you how much I belong to you— and it’s just as much as you belong to me.”

Instead of getting an intelligible response from Spencer all I got was a moan, not that I was complaining. While I captured his lips in a breathless kiss I began to grind my hips down onto him in slow circles, giving him a taste of what’s to come.

He surrendered to my dominance in the kiss almost immediately, letting me guide him in any way I wanted him to go. As I rocked my hips over the bulge in his slacks I could feel it grow harder underneath me, I couldn’t wait to free it from its confines. I made sure to mark up his neck with as many hickies that made me satisfied- plus I let him give a few to me as well.

His submission underneath me wasn’t something that I was unused to. This time seemed to be a little different however.

I couldn’t place my finger on what exactly was different, maybe it was that we were so desperate for each other that the clothes practically melted off- which was a lot quicker than how we normally took our pace.

“Can I show you how good I can be for you, Miss?” His eyes were wide and begging, there was no way I could refuse a face like that.

That was how I ended up riding his face, with no hesitation in sight from him. All he wanted to do was to please and he was greedy for it. Even after I had started to pull up off of him after I had already had a shattering orgasm he pulled his hands down onto my hips to have me writhing on top of him im overstimulation. I could’ve punished him for it, but it felt too good to punish.

I was going to make sure he was ready too, possibly by taking him into my mouth for a bit, which I loved to do. However, his little whimpered out pleads about how much he wanted to feel me were just as hard to ignore as the previous pleas. It was hard to say no to a face that looked so pretty when he begged.

I sunk down on him slowly, at least letting myself relish in that feeling for a bit before Spencer would undoubtedly coax me into a faster pace because of how desperate he was. My own desperation wasn’t too far behind to be honest.

When I took him down fully to the hilt I only let myself feel the weight of him inside me for a moment before I started to roll my hips to create a rhythm. The pace I created was just as everything else up until this point had been, desperate.

While I bounced on him I had become unsatisfied with the amount of marks I had left on him before, diving into his neck to pepper them with hickies not really considering the fact that we had to go to work tomorrow. At least he still had that concealer he bought when we first started dating.

Seems that Spencer could not seem to think of it either as in between my ravishing of his neck and upper chest he’d also been getting in his fair share of marks. His were more centered at my chest, he’d been making sure my boobs were not neglected.

My second orgasm washed over me when Spencer brought up his fingers to rub my clit in quick circles. When my pace began to stutter in their movements as I rode myself through my orgasm while trying to help Spencer reach his, his hands came up to my hips to help aid me. Once my pleasure had partially abated I began to focus on his.

“Come on, sweet boy, you’ve shown me how good you are, now I want you to cum for me.”

His eyes rolled back into his head at my words, close to falling off the edge. I grabbed both of his hands interlinking them together and pinned them to the bed to help push him towards his release. A high pitched whine came up from his throat and he fell over the edge, cumming inside me.

We stayed together like that for a bit while we were both coming down from our highs. For a while there was only silence between us as we basked in each other's presence until I decided to make a joke.

“Are you no longer green with envy?” I simpered a bit at him, teasing him just a little as I started to even out my breath some whileI also traced all the marks I had left on him. I was teasing him about the events of today, but I’m reality that horrible detective was far from my mind- it was just Spencer and I. I’d have to see later while looking in the mirror what marks he had also left on me to claim me just as much as I had done to him.

His nose scrunched up at me and he giggled, his giggles were my favorite sound. When I first heard it I knew I would become addicted to pulling little giggles out of him as often as I could. In an uncharacteristic comeback through giggles Spencer then said, “No you kinda fucked it out of me.”

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

Sub Spencer: @thatsonezesty13 @pastathighs @virtualpeanutartisanjudge @calm-and-doctor

[mccoymccoymccoy]

Bones - Sweetheart

A/N: this was written with aos bones in mind but i think it works either way! :]

Word count: 2059

Even the rhythmic beeping of the various instruments within the sickbay was irritating you today. It was slow, lonely, and cold; you’d been simply sitting at Dr. McCoy’s desk playing a memory game with the computer for half the day. For the last hour, though, you’d gotten every answer wrong. 

“Where was the last Federation ship found after being reported missing?” It felt like there was a thick smoke preventing your brain from figuring out the answer, but you tried: “Torman V.”

“Negative. Pollux V.”

You sighed. At least I got the number right. That counts for somethin’, doesn’t it?

Taking your head out of your hands, you instead crossed them on the desk and laid your head down on them. “Computer, end game.” The computer stayed silent. As did you, for the next half an hour or so until Dr. McCoy came back. You considered yourself and Bones to be good friends, the two of you were practically inseparable- now being an obvious exception. The two of you worked the same shift for as long as you’d been on the Enterprise, and even before that, you’d been… well, more or less, drinking buddies at the academy. 

Today he’d gone down to a planet, alongside the captain and a few other nurses, to take care of a medical emergency. They left before your shift started. Why he didn’t wake you to go along was confusing, did he not want you there? Was it biased? Is he upset with you? You sighed, tracing little patterns onto the desk idly when the door opened. 

“Y/N! We’re back!” You couldn’t tell who spoke to you, just that it wasn’t Leonard. You didn’t respond, just mumbled and nodded against your arms. You heard shuffling and breathing and equipment being put down, and you closed your eyes. He musta’ had to stay with the Captain, you concluded to yourself in dismay. You didn’t understand why being away from him was so devastating, it’s not like you’ve never had to stay here alone all day before! The only thing you could think of was it was amplifying an already bad mood, but you weren’t upset at anyone or anything either. You just felt… empty. 

And now you felt… warm? There was something warm on your back. 

“Not gonna welcome us back, Y/N?” Bones cooed. Peeking through one eye, you found the energy to lift a corner of your mouth into a small smile for the good doctor, who was doing the same down at you. It was, evidently, his hand on your back, and he was leaning against his other hand which was resting next to you on the table. He was like a big wall, creating a space for just the two of you there. Though you were internally overjoyed, it just wouldn’t show through. “‘Course, doc,” you said quietly, “welcome back.” He frowned slightly.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He moved in more. Taking his hand from your back to lean closer against the desk on his forearm immediately bought back the cold empty feeling from earlier. You sat up and turned in the chair to face him, but looked down at his hand hanging off the edge of the table. You swivelled the chair side to side, anxious to just get to talk to him, knowing it won’t be now.

“Nothing really. Just been lonely without you here all day. Not much to do, y’know. I played games with the computer for most of the time.”

“Sorry ’bout that, doll. We had our hands full down there for longer than we thought we would. Maybe I could’ve used you there after all.” You looked up at that to see him smiling down at you again, but you couldn’t say anything. He used affectionate nicknames on you all the time, and every time, it made your heart skip a beat. You knew it was natural for him, not necessarily intending anything, but you couldn’t help but get lost in his words sometimes. Putting your head back on an arm on the desk, you started to play with Leonard’s hand with your free one. God, how you loved his hands. Bones watched you silently for a few moments while you mustered up the courage to speak again.

“Why did you leave me here? Did I do something?” A sigh came from him as an initial response.

“No, you didn’t do anything. You needed the rest. I’ve seen you all spaced out recently, it isn’t like you. I knew you wouldn’t agree to take the day off if I’d told you to, so I took the opportunity as soon as it came up. Pretty lucky it did, too- I was gettin’ pretty damn close to lockin’ you up in your quarters.”

A blush crept onto your face, and you hoped he wasn’t looking too closely. 

“Mighty kind of you, doc,” you quipped sarcastically, smiling. He laughed, but quietly- or intimately, as your brain twisted it. His other hand came up to your chin and pulled your face up gently so he could look at you, which then definitely would’ve shown off the red on your cheeks like fine paintings at a gallery.

 “Y/N, you’re taking tomorrow off as well. No objections. Sitting here won’t have done you much good if you were just worrying about us gettin’ back.” 

A crude mix of warmth and dread began to spread through your stomach. “But-” 

“No buts, darlin’. If I see you here tomorrow- or anywhere else for that matter- I will personally drag you back to your room. Is that clear?” Nodding in defeat, you looked down again, if only to hide the furious colour returning to your face from the thought of what he said. 

“Doctor, could you come review the medical log?” Much to your dismay, Bones sighed and gave a quick “Be right over.” As he started to move, you grasped his hand instead of just hovering over it. “Bones, wait.”

You bit your lip. Why were you getting so nervous? You’d never been nervous about him before. You sat up again but didn’t release his hand. “Dinner later? Dinner and chess or somethin’?”

He looked absolutely delighted, despite it being a regular occurrence. Your stomach fluttered when he turned his hand over in yours to lace your fingers together. 

“Absolutely.” He kissed your forehead, then flashed you a little smirk before letting go of your hand and going to join the nurse in the other room, leaving you flushed a bright red. That man sure knew how to make you anticipate.

All that you could think about for the rest of the day was him kissing your forehead. Years of knowing Leonard had proven he was a sweetheart, but you’d never truly felt it as solidly as then. The closest thing you could think of was any hug from him- he’d wrap you up tightly, and everything would feel peaceful for once. You’d never thought of it as romantic, though. Maybe you did, but didn’t realize it? As your brain was tearing every aspect of your friendship to shreds to analyze it, Bones snuck up behind you.

“Y/N, we goin’?” You spun around in the chair and stood up, smiling. “Mmhm,” you hummed. It hadn’t quite registered how close he was standing, you realized, as you were just a few inches apart. “Everyone else left a little while ago,” he said quietly. “Oh? How long?” You were more curious as to why he’d waited until you were alone. “Not very,” he answered, picking up your hands and stepping in a bit closer. Barely a breath between you now, you looked up. His eyes met yours and filled you with that exact warmth you felt from his hand on your back earlier. “And what’s a sweetheart like you done, waiting for everyone to leave before cornering me?” You smirked up at him and thought you might’ve seen a hint of blush on his face for a change.

“Cornering you? Is that what this is?” His words were soft, barely above a whisper. 

“I’m not sure,” you responded just as quietly. “Is it?”

“It can be.” His voice was rough, low. He moved a hand to cup your cheek- and he kissed you. Barely more than a peck, he pulled away quickly, but you reached a hand up behind his neck to stop him and pull him back. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t realized sooner how you felt about him. 

He pulled away again, and before you could do anything to bring him back, he walked you backward and against the desk, where he picked you up and sat you on it. He stood there for a moment, taking you in with his eyes, bringing his hands up to brush your arms gently. You grabbed his wrists just before his lips met yours again. “Leonard, though this does seem quite promising, perhaps we could continue this after dinner?”

He rested his forehead against yours and smiled, warm breath tickling your face. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you did the same, reaching up his back. “Perhaps we can.” He pulled you off the desk and into him tightly before letting go, though still holding onto your hand to lead you to the rec room, as if you didn’t know where it was. 

You walked silently, both of your thoughts consumed by the other. In a few minutes, you got to deck five’s rec room and sat down after getting something to eat from the food dispenser. It was quiet, there were only two or three other people in the room, and not near the two of you. “Why now?” You asked.

Bones looked at you, confused, then it clicked. “Just felt right, I guess. I care about you a lot and needed to make sure you knew it. Y’think I wanted to leave you here? No. I missed you just as much as you said you did me. More, even, possibly.”

You could only stare at him in response. A smile crept onto your face, and God you just wanted to kiss him again. “How’d you know I wouldn’t, like, punch you or somethin’?” He looked up from his plate and laughed. “Are you kidding?” You shook your head. If you hadn’t realized your feelings until just recently, how had he? He sighed, not in a frustrated way. “It’s been obvious for a while. I thought you’d realize how I felt, too, to be honest. I tried to make it obvious.”

“I don’t always pick up on the obvious.”

“Clearly.”

“How long?” You wondered if he’d known longer than you did. He smiled. “‘Bout a year now. Probably earlier.”

“Really? I didn’t realize until today, really.”

“You don’t always pick up on the obvious.”

You chuckled. “Clearly.”

The two of you talked about how you felt about each other for the next hour. You learned he’d liked you for the better half of your time knowing each other now, and that he didn’t want to risk losing you as his best friend if anything did go wrong in a confession. You learned that he never shut up about you when he wasn’t with you, that Jim was getting sick of his lovesick babbling, and Spock had learned to tune him out entirely when he chose to start it up again. You learned that he was even sweeter than you ever thought you knew, and that you were the closest to being in love you’d ever been, if not already. 

Eventually, however, you decided to finally leave the rec room for something a little more private, despite it being empty aside from you. Once inside Bones’ room, he motioned to his desk, to which you tipped your head to the side in question. He smirked. “Care to sit?” You accepted, grinning, and hopped up onto the desk. He stood in front of you, leaning in to kiss your neck, but you grabbed his chin to bring his face up to yours instead. You kissed him promptly, deeply, moving your other hand to wrap around his torso as he moved his from your hips to your waist. He brought a hand up to grab your hair and gently wedged himself between your legs. 

“Shit,” you whispered into his neck. “I’ll definitely need tomorrow off, now.”

[snapewrld]

I wanna know all about game night with Severus, Lucius, and Narcissa at the Manor. What do they play? Who wins most? Who loses most? Who's most competitive? Who let's who win on occasion? Snacks? Cocktails? I want it all. (Please, thanks, love you.)

Oh ho game night? The Legendary Malfoy-Snape Game Night? Thank You so much anon!

There is a huge sign that says "Leave your dignity at the door."

Winning- They all have their talents it all just depends on the game.

Most Competitive- All of them, but Narcissa will take you down.

Most Laid Back- C'mon now. We all know that that's not possible id winning comes with bragging rights.

Loosing- Most Likely Lucius because if it's a muggle game Severus and Narcissa will team up just to see the cute little nose scrunch that Lucius dose when he's irritated.

If it's Poker. Strip Poker. Both of them bitches are going down.

"Uh oh. He put his hair up"

(Luce looks ravishing with his hair in a bun and he knows it, but he mostly does it to keep the long strands out of his face)

"This is the only game that you are completely invested in. You pervert."

"Hmmm... If I'm a pervert why are staring at my chest?"

*blushes* "..... Shut up"

Snacks- All of them. It just depends on whose turn it is to host.

Severus has a more laid back, chill environment. Whether it's at his flat in london (HC? Maybe.) or at Spinner's End.

Fast Food? Yes. Especially McDonald's. (@sneverussape thanks for putting me on.)

Burgers. Chicken Nuggets. Fish and Chips. Yes.

Sometimes Severus will make the more cultured snacks that he grew up with during his childhood. (Sticky Buns, Koshered Food, oh and most definitely Hamantaschen, etc.)

The Malfoys are bougie through and through. They'd have entire platters of food stacked high.

Cakes and Cupcakes with every frosting imaginable.

They had an image to maintain

(They both secretly enjoyed Severus' simplicity more though they would never admit it aloud.)

There was a few months after the first Wizarding War where Severus tried to improve his mental health and Body Image.

He ate healthier foods.

Like Salads with the little crispy bread balls (what are those called?)

Cucumbers with Dressing.

And on game nights Narcissa and Lucius would help him replace the more hearty foods like Steak and with Salmon or Shrimp. (They'd eat up all of Sev's Greek Yogurt and Fruit though.)

Drinks-

Alcohol? Probably. Even though it lower inhibitions.

Most likely different muggle Juices and Sodas.

Lucius loves Dr. Pepper.

Narcissa prefers Sprite and Sunkist. The darker soda gives her gas.

Severus will probably drink anything as long as it isn't laced or poisoned.

Games-

(Not all of the games they play but the ones that I am most familiar with.)

Monopoly

Not for the weak. Only true Slytherins can succeed.

Lasts forever

"That hotel was NOT right there when I left"

"Yes it was"

"You two are cheating"

"No we aren't"

"How did I end up in Jail then?"

".....Tax Fraud"

Twister

"Accidental" Sexy Touches

"Lucius.... Your hand is not supposed to be there"

"The spinner said Blue and guess what's directly above blue" *smacks ass and leaves hand there*

"...... I hate you"

*evil chuckle* "oh I know"

"Cissa you can't tickle me that's cheating"

"I play to win, so fall bitch"

Uno

Number one way to get your ass kicked

Severus most definitely "cheats" on this game, just to make it more interesting

He'll make up rules and different versions of the game on a whim

Legilimency? You bet your pimp cane.

"Don't you dare change the fucking color you piece of toad shit"

"Eat my ass."

"Will do babe. Right after you draw 4 cards"

"You wanker"

"Nope, that's what I have you for"

"I'm withholding sex for a week if I don't win"

"Lu Sweetheart... You and I both know you won't last a week. You can barely last an hour without jumping either me or Severus"

Truth Or Dare

Someone always ends up streaking through the Manor or Skinny Dipping.

Severus with Make-up? Yessir.

Lucius in a Crop Top and a mini Skirt? Lol Yes

Narcissa Lip Syncing to the Pussycat Dolls? You bet your ass.

Lucius and Severus dressing as one another and pretending to be each other. (I need a fanfiction on that now lol)

"Cissa....Cissa....Cissy.... Cissy.... C'monnn I wanna go cuuddddle"

"I do NOT sound like that... And I'd never say something as inane as 'I wanna go cuddle'... And stop pouting I don't pout."

"Yes you do"

"Fine then be like that" *clears throat*

"I am Dracula bleh bleh bleh"

"Fight me bitch"

*Narcissa in the Background red in the face and dying of laughter*

TBC....

(Thank You Anon for this wonderful Ask I'm sorry it took so long)

[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [3]

(not my gif)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 3,695

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you.

Chapter Summary: Dean suggests the two of you pose as a couple for a case. Sam objects wholeheartedly. (aka Sam and Y/N go to therapy.)

Warnings: jealous!sam, jealous!reader, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, fake marriage, kind of a case!fic, slow burn, fluff, basically all the tropes

A/N: hi loves, sorry this took so long! had some trouble with this one and i’m still not completely happy with it but hopefully you guys enjoy anyway. and i’m sorry the chapters keep getting longer, haha this whole series was only supposed to be a one-shot. oops.

written for @spnfluffbingo and @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo!

Square Filled: Fake Marriage for @spnfluffbingo and Mutual Pining for @girl-next-door-writes​

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The third time was honestly quite fun for Dean. It started with a rare night of relaxation. The three of you were hanging out around a table in the bunker library, steadily working your way through a six-pack Sam had brought back from a supply run earlier. Dean had his legs crossed and feet propped up casually before him, while you and Sam were scrolling leisurely through the internet on your respective laptops.

“I think I just found us a case,” Sam had started with furrowed brows, as he sat up to get a closer look at his screen. “So get this, two married couples in Wisconsin were found dead after visiting the same couples therapist.”

“Does it say how?” you asked, fidgeting with the label on your beer bottle.

“Yeah, they all fell from windows in upper stories.”

Your brows flew up and you huffed in disbelief, “You’re right, seems like a rather unlikely coincidence, probably something up our alley.”

At this point, Dean was ready to burst with glee. God himself could not have presented a better opportunity. If things worked out, he could finally put an end to Sam’s petulant spasms and eradicate the sexual tension that hung so potently (and disturbingly) throughout the air whenever you and Sam were in the same room.

“Well, I guess we know what we gotta do…” Dean tried to fight the grin on his lips as he turned to you, “Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

With a perfectly straight face, he managed to ask, “Will you marry me?”

The mouthful of beer that Sam was about to swallow erupted forth in a cascade of tiny droplets, spritzing through the air as he began to cough and choke on what little alcohol had somehow made it down the wrong pipe.

You immediately looked over to see if he was alright, not expecting to find the usually adroit and graceful man a sputtering, red-faced mess, “Geez, Sam. Are you okay?” Rising from your seat to move towards him, you stopped when he held out a large palm and waved it at you as a form of both reassurance and interception.

“Yea- yeah, I’m fine,” Sam wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, taking a moment to recompose himself before sending you an awkward little smile of gratitude.

Dean cleared his throat, “So whaddya say, Y/N/N?”

“Huh?”

“About my proposal, before Sammy so rudely interrupted.” Sam was glaring holes through his brother now, but Dean paid him no attention.

“Oh, right,” you chose your next words carefully, “Umm, you mean you wanna go undercover?”

Dean shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side as he raised his eyebrows in a suggestive smirk, “If the shoe fits…”

“Well aren’t you romantic?” you quipped sarcastically.

“Oh sweetheart, just you wait and see,” Dean sent you a wink that you were sure had dropped many a panty in his time yet held little to no effect over you because… well because you were busy being a little too enraptured by his baby brother. That didn’t seem to stop Dean though, “Trust me, as your loving husband-” It was Sam’s turn to clear his throat, but again Dean ignored him, “I'm gonna romance the shit outta you.”

You scoffed at him in amusement, “Right, you mean when we go to couples therapy?”

“Baby girl, you’d be surprised-”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam couldn’t hold it in any longer, throwing both hands up in objection, “Can we just back up for a minute? Why does anyone have to get married?”

Dean shot him an incredulous look, “Come on, Sam, we've worked enough of these cases to know this is always the easiest and fastest way.”

Through stiff jaws Sam released a harsh, conceding sigh, “OK... then... why does it have to be you and Y/N?”

“Cause we’re best friends; it'll be more believable,” Dean answered easily with a grin.

A disbelieving stare crossed Sam’s indignant features before he looked down to suppress his emotions with a sardonic nod and pursed lips. It was one thing for Dean to suggest playing your husband but to claim that you're his best friend instead of Sam's... That was too far.

“Plus, you've always been better at playing FBI,” his brother continued with that irritating smile.

Sam gave himself a moment before stating adamantly, “I don't think it should be you.”

“What, why? You don't think we can get the job done?” Dean’s tone was accusing, and you knew he was trying to provoke Sam, but ever since the notion that two out of the three of you needed to play a married couple had been introduced, you found yourself at an inevitable impasse.

“No, I-“ Sam could barely get any words out before Dean circled back to you instead.

“Y/N?” The look Dean sent you forced you to face your inner dilemma head on. On the one hand, you wanted nothing more than an excuse to get close to Sam, to hold his hand and gaze at him adoringly without worrying about anyone seeing, and so much more… but on the other hand, you feared that a glimpse of the ‘real deal’, however contrived, might just push you over the decisive edge. What if you couldn’t go back to your platonic guise after? What if you broke your own heart?

“What? Um, yeah, I think it could work,” you rubbed the back of your neck nervously, keeping your eyes on Dean’s to avoid meeting Sam’s.

Your response elicited a smug expression on the older Winchester’s face however, as he returned to questioning his brother, “So what is it, Sam? You don't think I can pretend to be in love with Y/N? Cause trust me, that'll be easy.” There was that wink again, prompting a roll of your eyes.

“No, I just-“ You were worried Sam’s jaw might fall off if he clenched it any tighter. Why did he seem to care so much anyway? Was he jealous? The thought popped into your head almost as quickly as you dismissed it.

“Then what, Sam?” Dean plucked at that final straw and an explosion of the type that had seemed to become increasingly common from the ordinarily calm and gentle giant followed.

“IT SHOULD BE ME, OK?” Sam roared in frustration, his expansive chest was heaving and his hazel irises had darkened immeasurably. “It should be me,” he repeated more quietly.

Dean smirked; this was exactly what he wanted, exactly what he expected. “Well geez, Sammy. If you wanted to get with Y/N so bad, you could’ve just said so.”

“Wha- that’s not- I don't,” Sam looked extremely distressed and you couldn’t blame him. Whatever Dean was playing at had led him to essentially force Sam to reject you out right, and being the compassionate soul that he was, you knew Sam never wanted to hurt you that way, even if it was indirectly. “I just- I think it would work better this way. You're not exactly the marriage or therapy type and you're just not-“

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You wanna shack up with Y/N and who could blame you? There’s no need to throw a hissy fit, baby brother. She’s all yours.” Dean chuckled at the sight of your averted eyes and Sam’s burning cheeks, thinking his work was just about done, “Alright, I’m gonna go get Baby ready. You kids have fun.”

When the echo of a closing door filled the room, Sam turned back to you, “Y/N, look I-“

“Don’t worry about it, Sam, I know what you meant,” you brushed him off hastily, “And you’re right, Dean would probably have a hard time keeping up the act. He’d end up flirting with the therapist or something.” Laughing always did help you conceal the pain in your chest.

As it turned out, it was a flirtatious therapist you should have been more concerned about. The woman had eyes for Sam only as soon as the two of you walked into her office and sat down on the tiny loveseat before her.

“Welcome, I’m Dr. Ryan, but you can call me Marlena,” she paused to perform a not-so-subtle scan along the length of Sam’s body before smiling at him seductively, “Why don’t we start by introducing yourselves?”

You kept your expression neutral though there was an urge to glare at her. After all, didn’t she think Sam was a married man? Perhaps this was part of the scam that got the couples before you killed, your rational side countered.

“Uh, OK…” Sam appeared rather uncomfortable beside you, pressing his lips into a tight semblance of a smile, “Umm, I'm Sam and this is my wife Y-Y/N.”

The damn Winchester was always so adorably flustered every time someone hit on him, something you never failed to find incredibly endearing, especially considering he was a 6'4” hunk of a man who could surely get inside the pants of any woman he wanted. You assumed, being that good looking, he’d be used to the attention by now, but the fact that he still reacted this way was a true testament to his humility.

“And how did you two meet?”

“Through work,” Sam answered shortly. A resounding pang had shot through his chest when he introduced you as his wife and he was still trying to recoup. If only this wasn't all make-believe, if only he could sit close to you and hold your hand in his whenever he wanted and not just for the sake of a ridiculous pretence. The Mr. and Mrs. titles and matching rings weren't even necessary. He just wanted to make you his as much as he was already yours.

Fuck, Dean was right; Sam was in deep. Just the thought of Dean acting as your husband had his heart racing and every muscle in his body tense with envy. There was no way he could have handled seeing his brother all over you, even if it was pretend. And if the fact that he had to make Dean go get the rings for your current ruse, because he had a strong suspicion the act of buying you a ring yet knowing it wasn’t real might just annihilate the final pieces of his fragile heart, wasn’t telling enough... Sam was finally beginning to realize that he could no longer deny his feelings for you.

“Tell me about that. What is it you two do?”

Although the questions were directed at both of you, Marlena’s gaze remained resolutely transfixed upon Sam, but the man was much too busy thinking about you to notice.

“Uh, well it was about 3 years ago. We’re firefighters and Y/N had been sent from another division to help out with a particularly bad… fire. But she somehow got there before we did, and when I arrived on the scene, I saw her walk out of the burning building in a blaze of smoke and dust. She was carrying a little boy, who she had just saved, covered in ash and soot, a-and there was scrape above her left brow that had left a trail of darkened blood down the side of her face,” Sam smiled to himself at the memory, “But I couldn’t move. It was just all so surreal because it was the last thing I expected to find, and I thought she was the most beautiful soul I had ever set my eyes on. I knew right then that I would gladly devote the rest of my life to getting to know her better, to becoming worthy of her, but when she came up to us, I could barely speak in full sentences and I made a fool of myself by stumbling over my own feet. My brother, who’s uh- also a firefighter, later told me he thought I was having a stroke.” Sam chuckled softly. His eyes were downcast, and he seemed to be a little lost in his own world.

By contrast, you were staring at him in shock. You remembered the day quite clearly, although in reality it was a wendigo that you were forced to kill by starting a fire since your flare gun wouldn’t work, but Sam got the rest of the details spot on. The lilt of his voice as he spoke had made it all sound so real, for a moment, you nearly tricked yourself. Who knew he had such incredible acting chops on top of all those other skills?

“Well, that sounds like a beautiful start. I’m assuming you work together now?” Taking note of the new edge in her voice, you gave her a nod and Dr. Ryan continued, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a pen, “It must be terribly hard to maintain a work-life balance and keep the romance alive. I’m sure there are issues from work that you’ll often bring home, conflicts that can never be resolved considering the lack of alone time? Maybe something you found annoying about the other that seemed bearable in the beginning but has now festered to become an unmendable chasm between the two of you?”

Your eyes narrowed of their own accord. Between the obvious flirting to the now obvious attempt to instigate discord between you and Sam, you were starting to think Marlena was undoubtedly the monster (that or she was an awful couples therapist). Her motive remained unclear though, so you played along.

“Uh, well Sam can be a bit… overprotective, at times, when we’re working, and sometimes it can get in the way of the job.”

“Ok but that’s only because Y/N can be ludicrously stubborn, at times, and she has a habit of running headfirst into danger." Sam was surprisingly quick to retort.

"It's literally our job to run into danger, Sam.” Your body was now twisted to face his, “And if I recall correctly, my ‘ludicrous stubbornness’ has led to the saving of multiple lives, yours included."

Sam lowered his head and scoffed lightly before he too turned to face you completely, golden eyes boring into yours with an intensity you were not prepared for, "I know it has but sometimes you act like other people's lives are worth more than yours and that's not true. Besides, it's my job to care about you, to protect you… I-I mean as your husband."

For a second, things got a little too real there, but you took a deep breath to remind yourself this was all just an act, "And I appreciate that Sam, but sometimes it can be a bit overbearing-"

"Well if I'm overbearing it's only because I'm terrified every time we go out there,” Sam began to enunciate every word stiffly, speaking almost entirely through gritted teeth, “Because I can't bear the thought of losing you, because I can't fathom living a life without you!"

And once again, you were left staring at him with your mouth agape. He sure was laying it on thick, or perhaps he just wanted to win the fight, because you had no idea how to argue against that.

“Alright, I think that’s enough on that topic. Maybe we should try something else,” Dr. Ryan interjected, “Oh look at that, time’s almost up! I always end my sessions with a fun little exercise. I want you to look each other in the eyes and take turns coming up with one positive word to describe the other, something you love about your partner, but it must be genuine.”

Quirking your brow, you struggled to restrain the smile on your face as you turned back to Sam. Well this’ll be easy.

“Intelligent,” you stated matter-of-factly, figuring you’d start with something relatively un-incriminating.

“Strong,” Sam came back at you immediately. There was a fierceness in his eyes, almost as if he was daring you to bring it on.

“Kind,” came your simple response.

“Discerning.” His voice seemed lower for some reason.

“Capable,” you kept your eyes locked on Sam’s as you lifted your chin.

“Tough.” There was an undeniable fondness that accompanied the word when it left his lips.

“Sassy,” you replied, unable to stop the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Tenacious,” Sam narrowed his eyes at you.

“Selfless.” Why did you sound so out of breath?

“Complex.” He was smiling at you now.  

“Protective,” you finally admitted despite your earlier complaints.

“Beguiling,” Why were you both whispering?

“Tall.” Was that lust you could hear in your own voice?

“Badass,” Was that lust you could hear in his voice?

“Gorgeous… or handsome if you prefer.” When did your faces get so close?

“So fucking beautif-”

“Woah! OK, I think we’re done here.” Shit, you had almost forgotten about the therapist. “That was… excessive. I don’t think I’ll be needing to see you again,” she declared as she stood up rather suddenly, prompting you and Sam to do the same though you were both still a little caught up in your game.

“Wow, you really are tall,” Marlena breathed out as she smoothed a hand down her pencil skirt. The provocative tone of her voice had you back down to earth in no time. "And those years of firefighting have definitely paid off, what with all those big muscles.”

Sam gave an awkward half laugh as he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you tight against his side. You weren’t sure what compelled you to but as if on instinct, you raised your outer hand and placed it lightly on Sam’s stomach, feeling his abs contracting even through the soft flannel beneath your fingers as you replied, “Yeah, that’s just another one of the many things I love about Sam.”

The laugh that escaped Sam this time was much more sincere, “Thank you for your time, Dr. Ryan.” He kept his hand on your waist as he led the two of you out the door, trying his damnedest to ignore the enticing sensation your touch had evoked throughout his body, as well as the subsequent questions of what your little hand might feel like on other parts of him if a simple graze of his abdomen could produce such a dramatic effect.

“Did it seem like she was rushing us to you?” you questioned Sam pensively when you were back at the motel half an hour later.

“Yeah, like the more we spoke, the more she lost interest in us,” he agreed.

Your next words tumbled out without permission and you could only cringe at the bitter inflection of your voice, “Well, she didn’t seem to lose any interest in you.”

Sam felt himself smile at your adorableness; he couldn’t help it when your bottom lip jutted out like that. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were jealous.

“Are you two outta your damn minds?” Dean looked from his brother’s face to yours. “Did you even check the time? She only gave you about half of what we paid for!”

“What, really?” you and Sam responded in chorus.

“Yeah, but luckily I’m a genius and I got everything we needed within the first few minutes.” Grinning in that cocky way of his, Dean explained, “Your EMF sensors were off the charts as soon as you walked into her office, and I found ectoplasm in the bathroom.”

“She’s a ghost?” Sam did that adorable scrunchy thing with his face and you had to physically stop yourself from staring.

“Possessed by one, yeah. And I checked the records. She spent at least an hour overtime with both of the dead couples.”

“So, what, are we not good enough to be her next victims?” you wondered.

“Maybe she saw through the act?” Sam suggested.

Dean was fumbling through a stack of papers until he found something, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s it. Here, check this out.”

Sam started to read out loud, “’Grave of local girl found desecrated by joggers passing through the cemetery early Sunday morning…’”

“Turns out the kid got pushed out a window accidentally when her parents were fighting... Splat.” Dean elaborated, ever so tactfully.

You were starting to piece it together though, “So now she’s seeking out dysfunctional couples to kill them the way she died… for what, revenge? Or to stop them from accidentally murdering their own kids?”

“That’s my best guess,” Dean confirmed.

“Huh… nice work on research, buddy. I’m impressed,” the playful grin you sent Dean’s way was not lost on Sam.

“Yeah, well your husband’s not the only one who can look stuff up around here. Besides, someone had to do the work while you two were off playing Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

“Sam and I have never tried to kill each other,” you argued.

Dean snorted while grabbing his jacket, “And that’s about the only way your relationship differs.”

When he saw your brows pull together in confusion, Sam quickly cut in to change the subject, “So uh- what’s the plan?”

His brother was nearly out the door when he responded, “Nice and easy. I’ll go burn the bones while you guys go back and distract her with your little love fest, capiche?”

The ghost was surprisingly open this time around, admitting freely to her past crimes and even explaining her methods. Apparently, flirting with the husbands was a routine and easy test to spot any cracks in the relationships, one that she claimed Sam had passed with flying colors. But you knew better than to assume his achievement had anything to do with you. After all, you’d seen the man hold fast against the fervent advances of a high-end stripper before, while he was drunk. This was nothing.

“But why kill them?” Sam questioned, with the kind of genuine curiosity that only he could exhibit towards a murderous monster.

“Because it’s better to die than stay in a loveless marriage… But of course you two wouldn’t underst-“ Dean must have completed his task because the therapist was interrupted by a shapeless black plume bursting through her mouth.

‘Oh Shit,’ you thought relentingly as you watched the spirit eject itself and disappear into a fiery cloud of dark fumes, a forlorn expression upon your face, ‘I’m in love with Sam Winchester.’

→ CARRY ON

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[astarryon]

Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart. 

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp. 

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself. 

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

[txemrn]

Cute Without the "E"

Happy 100 weeks of fluffy, angsty and smutty prompts,@wackydrabbles! Thank you so much for all you do to create such a fun environment here on tumblr! I am participating this week with prompt #100: "This is huge--we need to celebrate!" (The prompt will be in bold)

Book: The Nanny Affair

Warning: language; brief allusions of promiscuity and sensuality

Word count: 1267 (+/-)

A/N: What happens when you message your amazingly talented TNA sister and friend in the wee hours of the morning about Sam and Robin being in an emo band? I think it's obvious...@sfb123 I. Can. Not. The pic is absolutely AMAZING! Thank you so much for donating your time and creativity to make me laugh! You NEVER cease to amaze me. Love you, dearly! Big thanks to @chemist-ana and @shannonwrote for pre-reading! These characters belong to Pixelberry.

Title of the Fic/Lyrics in Fic: "Cute Without the 'E' (Cut from the Team)" by Taking Back Sunday (undeniably the BEST emo band to have ever existed)

***

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Ending his phone call with a hushed tone, Sam quietly pulls the door shut to his bedroom. He tiptoes carefully across the hardwood floors, carrying a large duffle bag. He turns the corner to the foyer; now, all he has to do is make it down the elevator, and his secret rendezvous remains just that: a secret.

“Sam?” He freezes mid-stride. “Where are you going?”

“Brynn!” Sam startles, turning on his heel. “Hi, baby!” His voice cracks in the midst of his unnatural peppy tone. He casually drops his bag behind his back before reaching out to hug his girlfriend. “Is, uh--” he kisses her as she raises an eyebrow, “--is the conference call with Tokyo over?”

“Dr. Matsuo is having technical difficulties,” Brynn’s eyes dart to the large duffle bag on the floor before glaring at Sam. “--so we’re taking a break for him to grab another computer”

“Oh, well, in that case--” Sam bounds to the kitchen, “--let’s grab you some coffee. You want some dessert?” He turns around, discovering that Brynn didn’t follow him. “Brynn?” He panics, jogging out of the room. “Brynn?”

“Whoa!” They collide in the hallway, but Sam tries to play it off by tangling his hands in her hair, forcing her into more sweet kisses. She puts her hands up in surrender, pushing his body off of hers. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird.” His words are quick, almost mumbled as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“See?” She scoffs into a snicker. “That was weird.”

“N--No it wasn’t.”

Brynn’s eyelids lower, glaring at her boyfriend. Her eyes quickly shift to the duffle bag, then back to Sam. “What are you hiding?” She subtly turns towards the foyer.

“Hiding--?”

“What’s in the duffle bag?” Brynn and Sam slowly look at the duffle bag before glaring back at each other. An eerie silence hangs in the air as if a challenge has been issued. In an instant, they both sprint to the bag. They crash painfully into each other before falling to the floor. “C’mon--Sam--” she grunts as she pulls on the handles. “Let! Go!”

“There’s--nothing--to--OW!” He suddenly screeches, letting go of the bag. “Fucking Succubus! What are those? Talons?” Sam massages his hand as a satisfied Brynn sits cross-legged in victory, locking eyes with him. She puts her fingers on the zipper, taunting him. She slides her hand inside a front pocket.

She gasps. "What is this--?"

“Okay, wait--" he warns.

Brynn pulls out an ornate invitation with silver filigree that says, 'Class of 2002'.

"I can--I can explain."

She continues to read until she abruptly smiles at Sam. "Sam! It's an invite to your twenty-year high school reunion!"

"Yeah, well--" Sam rubs the back of his neck timidly.

"We're going, right? I mean, this is huge--we need to celebrate!"

"Yeah, I mean, of course. I mean--" his face drops as he sighs. "I kinda, sorta have to."

"Why? Is everyone just dying to see what became of the homecoming king?" She jests, booping him on the nose.

"Nominated. I was nominated for homecoming king.”

“Of course, you were,” she rolls her eyes before giggling. She turns her attention back to the bag when Sam interrupts her again.

“Okay, Brynn, look--" he searches for the right words. "--there's a lot about my past--about me in high school you don't know about yet--"

"Sam," she chuckles with a knowing smile. "I already know about the girls from the cheerleading squad--"

He sighs with irritation. "Fucking Robin--!"

"-- and the girls from the JV squad and the captain and co-captain of the pep squad--"

"Fuckin' A--!"

"--at the same time!" Brynn bites her bottom lip to stifle a laughter. "And then he mentioned some girl named Delaney--?"

"-- Jesus Christ! Robin went on one date with her! One--!" He drags his fingers down his face in frustration.

Brynn grabs his hands in amusement. "My point, Mr. Dalton, is I know full-well that you were a bit wild in your youth. You even told me that. Let's see," she starts to count on her fingers, "you vandalized the opposing school's basketball gym; you totaled your dad's Bentley--"

"Okay, you can stop now--"

"--and then you let Robin take the blame!"

Sam snickers under his breath. "Dad was so pissed, had Robin packing his things to kick him out--"

"Sam!" Brynn playfully pushes his shoulder. "You’re such an asshole!"

Sam playfully grabs Brynn’s arm. Pulling her into his lap, he gives her bottom a swift spank, making her yelp with glee. "Am I still an asshole?" He presses his lips into her supple pout.

"Mmmm,” Brynn licks her lips, lowering her voice. “One that needs to be punished--"

"Ooooo--" Sam crashes his lips into her mouth again, nibbling on her lips. "--Daddy likes."

As their kissing becomes deeper, enthralled with passion, Brynn finally pulls away from his tongue. "But wait a minute," she grabs the duffle bag, "what's with you being so shady? What's even in this bag?"

“Um,” he swallows thickly, “well--”

“And why do you ‘kinda, sorta have to go’?” she air-quotes, mimicking his deep voice.

“Okay, fine.” Sam sighs, rubbing the stubble of his chin. “You really want to know?”

“What gave you that impression, Sam?” Brynn sasses, pinching Sam’s arms.

“Okay, smartass,” Sam chuckles before becoming serious. “In high school, I was in a band.”

“That’s it?” She punches out a cheeky laugh. “Sam, I’ve know that since, gosh--” she puts her hand on her forehead,”--shoot, I know it was before your engagement party.”

“Really?”

“Yes, because when we were dancing, I was shocked you had such terrible rhythm--” She widens her eyes, watching for his reaction.

“Hey! I’ve got rhythm,” he says defensively.

“Uh-huh. Sure, you do,” Brynn nods sardonically. Sam begins to tickle Brynn, causing her to jump, straddling his lap.

“Want me to prove it to you?,” he bucks his hips into Brynn, bearing an impish grin. Brynn lets out a hearty laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Okay, now that?” she seals his lips with hers as she rocks her hips into his. “You do have impeccable rhythm.” She combs her fingers through his hair as he grips tightly to her ass. She teases him, licking his top lip. “So, the band is why you have to go?” Her eyes widen with joy. “Oh my God, are you playing at your reunion?”

Sam leans back on his hands, chuckling. “You guessed it, and I have practice tonight.”

“Sam! That’s incredible!” she endearingly strokes his cheek. “So, tell me: what kind of music did you play?”

Suddenly the elevator dings of someone’s arrival to the penthouse, forcing Brynn to dismount from Sam. As the doors shuffle open to reveal it’s passenger, Sam and Brynn are greeted with the gravelly growl of a singing baritone.

“... and will you tell all your friends

You've got your gun to my head

This all was only wishful thinking…”

Brynn stands up in disbelief. Wearing an old black Ramones t-shirt is Robin, complete with skinny jeans, a studded belt, and a pair of Chuck Taylors. His long, chestnut locks are spiked out. “Robin?” Brynn curiously approaches the sight. “Are you wearing guy-liner?”

Abruptly, it hit Brynn like a lightening bolt as she zips open Sam’s duffle bag. “No. Fucking. Way.” She dumps out the contents of the bag: a black shirt with a skull on it, black skinny jeans, a black pair of Vans, and Brynn’s favorite Urban Decay eyeliner.

“Oh my God, Sam!” She stares at him in shock, trying to hide her smile. “Were you in an emo band?”

***

TNA tags (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @somersetmummy @thefrenchiemama

[mossharpy]

Do u know any TOH fics where it focuses on human culture/Luz being different? I can't find any :(

i've got two! but then this prompt took me by the hands and i ended up writing my own little drabble.

from ao3:

crossing paths by Vikingfangirl23 | 2991 Words | One-Shot | Summary: Luz deals with bullies, Owlbert's been following her longer than she realizes.

It's Just Hair by foolish_snail | 1889 Words | One-Shot | Summary: Luz is tired of getting bullied for her hair. May as well do something about it.

from me (under read more):

Willow and Gus were avoiding her. It was frustrating; all day they’d been skirting around her questions and attempts to confront them about their unusually skittish behavior. They told each other everything—why was this time different? Luz had briefly worried she’d done something to upset Willow, who tended to still be sore about how much time she was spending with Amity.

Luz understood where the witch was coming from, she’d be upset if her best friend started dating her ex-bully too. But, if that was the case, why was Gus avoiding her? Gus was brutally honest about his feelings; he wore his heart on his sleeve. Willow was more closed off, but Gus was always willing to play middleman if a miscommunication occurred. Even worse, when she’d asked them about wanting to sit together at lunch, the two came up with some on-the-spot excuse about having detention. Luz loved her friends, but they were terrible liars.

But she didn’t push. Luz let them go.

The human poked her PB&J, sighing. She didn’t like being ignored.

Fridays were usually her favorite day of the week. She loved Hexside—don’t get her wrong—more than she’d ever loved school, but on Fridays, as soon as school let out, Willow and Gus would follow her back to the Owl House. There, they’d begin their usual ritual of eating far too much junk food and watching crappy Boiling Isles reality TV. It was fun, it was their chance to put aside all their worries, about school, about magic, about getting home, and let loose.

Their distance made Luz think her friends weren’t willing to hang out that night.

A plastic tray gently found a place next to her, and Luz let her eyes wander upward to land on the face of her girlfriend. She smiled, worries abandoned, and focus turned toward Amity, who nervously pulled a string of lavender hair from her face, a pale blush creeping over her nose and tinging her face.

“Are Willow and Gus joining us?” She spoke formally, a trait the witch often defaulted to when trying to hide how flustered she was.

The question made Luz frown, and she let her head fall against the lunch table. “They’ve got better things to do.”

Amity nodded, taking Luz’s hand under the table, and hesitantly letting their fingers intertwine. “I guess they would be busy, what, with the party, they’re planning and all.”

“…Party?”

The purple-haired witch made a small face, “You didn’t know? Gus has been talking my ear off all day about it.” She conjured her scroll to show her girlfriend, gesturing to the dozens of unread penstagram messages she’d likely chosen to ignore.

“The two of them have been insufferable today, how am I supposed to know the difference between Pep Ph.D. and Dr Fizz? And what in Titan’s name is a clown.” She threw up her hands, irritated, before resigning to letting them sit crossed over her chest.

Luz shrugged, still staring at the number of messages, “Pep tastes kinda like barbecue sauce if it was carbonated, Dr Fizz is sweeter, bubblier, and by far the better soda. And clowns are a staple of every good party.”

Amity looked slightly baffled, like she wasn’t expecting Luz to have an opinion either, then gently took her scroll back to rapidly text a message to Gus.

“…What’s the party for?” The words came out muffled, and slightly anxious. She wanted to help, she was a great party planner—Willow knew that, Gus knew that, why were they leaving her out?

“Oh,” Amity was stilly texting, “I think Gus’s birthday is coming up.”

“WHAT?” Luz slammed her hands on the cafeteria table, startling Amity and bringing the attention of the rest of the lunchroom to both of them, various Hexside students glaring or staring, judgingly.

Amity gently brought her hands to Luz’s shoulders, pulling the human back into her seat and nervously laughing. Said human leaned in, close, raising a hand to her mouth to whisper.

“What do you mean Gus’s birthday is coming up?” She was his friend; she should be an expert in these kinds of things! No wonder he and Willow had been avoiding her, they probably didn’t want to break the news to her that she had forgotten one of her best friends’ birthday.

“The party is this weekend,” Amity supplied, mimicking her girlfriend’s hushed tone. “They’ve been sending out invitations on penstagram all day.”

She turned her scroll toward Luz again, this time, a fun-looking, brightly colored invitation with a doodle drawing of Gus throwing confetti, sprawled across her penstagram dashboard. The specific details were cut out, but she could see that Amity was right—the party was this Saturday.

A small knot formed in Luz’s stomach. She couldn’t get a scroll—they were too intertwined with witch magic, and without a bile sack, it was hard to get one. Normally, if she really wanted to see what was going on, she’d ask Eda to borrow hers, but she didn’t have one of her own. Gus knew that, so did Willow. Did they not want her there? Why wouldn’t they give out invitations in person? Why were they hiding this from her?

She slumped onto the table, burying her face in her arms.

“I guess, well—” Amity faltered, catching up on her girlfriend’s sudden deflation, “It is his thirteenth birthday.”

Luz cringed.

“No, no,” Her girlfriend continued, “It’s his thirteenth birthday, Luz.”

She stared, blankly. “I don’t get what you mean. Why are you saying ‘thirteenth’ like that?”

“Oh shoot,” Amity face-palmed, a pointed ear twitching, “Of course you wouldn’t have the thirteenth, I forget how fragile humans are.”

“Hey,” Luz dragged out the word, scowling, “We’re not fragile, we’re just not meant to digest fairies or survive boiling water.”

Her girlfriend snickered, “Like I said, fragile. Anyways, when a witch turns thirteen, you have to go through some… trials.”

“I like trials,” Luz mumbled.

Amity smiled, fondly, then grimaced, “They’re not fun trials, Luz. A witch’s thirteenth birthday is said to be cursed; you have to spend the day with bad luck, and if you manage to survive, at the end of the day you can throw a party, celebrating your ability to wield magic and become a real witch. It’s a rite of passage.”

She ‘oohed’, “That sounds cool. Why wouldn’t Gus tell me about it?”

The purple-haired girl made a face, “I’m not sure. You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, even if you are… squishy. I’m confident in your ability to survive the death threats of a thirteenth.”

Resting her chin in the palm of her hand, Luz grumbled. “Thank you.”

She moped the rest of the school day.

When her final class came, and the last bell screamed, Luz sulked, taking her time to put away her spell books and potions, slowly zipping her bag and slowly tucking away her pencils. She wasn’t looking forward to walking home alone.

Her feet felt heavy, footsteps echoing down the bustling hallway as other students excitedly talked about their weekend plans. She tried to ignore every whisper of ‘party’, flipping her cowl up to hide her face. Normally, Luz didn’t mind people staring. At home, she got enough of it already, but in the Boiling Isles being the only human made her feel… important.

She didn’t feel important right now.

Her hand gently pushed the front door of the school open, light momentarily blinding her as her eyes got adjusted to the outdoors.

“Luz!” An excited voice called her name, forcing her head to instinctively turn toward the offending noise.

Suddenly, two bodies were tackling her, and Luz found herself toppling to the ground.

“Ohmigosh, are you okay?” A very frantic Gus clambered from their pile of entangled limbs, pushing himself and Willow off of Luz.

“Wha—Gus? Willow? What are you guys doing here?” She blinked a few times, rubbing at the arm she had stupidly hit on the stone ground. Dumb human arms, always getting injured. “I thought you would’ve been getting ready for the party.”

They both cringed.

“Oh… you found out about that?” Willow fiddled with the hem of her skirt, looking away from the human’s face.

Luz felt her face get hot. She was not going to cry about this. Absolutely not. “Of course, I found out! What I wanna know is why my two best friends decided I’m not cool enough to go to their really scary thirteenth birthday party? I know Gus has to go through dangerous trials, and like, prove himself and whatever, but I’m tough! I can take it.”

Gus looked between her and Willow, as if debating whether he should say something. A beat of silence passed.

“Of course, I want you at my party,” the younger witch finally spoke, “actually, that’s what we were coming to talk to you about—”

He scratched the back of his neck, pausing briefly.

“Eda told us that humans don’t have bad luck rituals on their thirteenth birthday, so we—well—we may have—”

“It’s a double party!” Willow interrupted, face quickly turning bright pink. “Sorry, sorry! I’ve been dying of anticipation all day.”

She pulled a rolled-up parchment from her bag, unfurling it to show Luz an edited version of Gus’s party invitation. This one included a small doodle of Luz as well as Gus, both donning matching party hats and throwing confetti. At the bottom, the date and time were clearly listed.

Saturday, 9:00pm, The Owl House.

Luz’s eyes widened, a large grin forming on her face.

“You guys!” She d’awwed, pulling them into a group hug.

“We didn’t want you to miss out, and Eda said you’d be able to handle all the bad luck just fine, and King’s okay with it as long as we bubble-wrap you, and we didn’t want to miss your birthday in case you had to go home before we can celebrate—” Gus cut his own rambling off, taking a breath.

“We got a clown!” Willow laughed, excitedly clapping.

Gus nodded enthusiastically, repeating her, “We got a clown!”

“Is this why you were texting Amity all those weird questions?”

Her friends both gasped, Gus especially offended, “I wanted to be as accurate as possible, the party is human-themed after all. Amity wasn’t supposed to tell you about it! That’s the point of a surprise party.”

“Eda was setting up pre-birthday decorations at the Owl House for tonight’s sleepover.” Willow added.

“Sleepover?” Luz repeated, awestruck. “Oh, my Azura, you guys are the best.”

The three kids hugged again, laughing about their birthday schemes. Human or not, Luz should’ve known better than to think her best friends would exclude her like that.

This was going to be the best Friday ever.

[nikkoliferous]

Phase One: Avengers (Part One)

With everything being about the LOKI series right now and me dreading it, I figured I'd distract myself by finally posting my thoughts on the Phase One: Avengers novel, which I seem to recall somehow being way worse than the Thor novel? I'm not completely convinced this thing wasn't ghostwritten by Taika Waititi; that's all I'm saying. Anyways, here we go.

(Quick note: please be aware that this overview is significantly Thor-critical. If that sort of thing bothers you, I do not recommend proceeding. You've been warned. Lol)

Let's start off with a friendly reminder that SHIELD had four hours to evacuate before Loki showed up, shall we?

Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago,” Coulson was saying.

“I didn’t approve going to testing,” Fury said.

Coulson nodded. “He wasn’t testing it. He wasn’t even in the room. Spontaneous event.”

So either they're grossly incompetent or grossly negligent, but either way those deaths are on them at least as much as they're on Loki. If not more so.

“It just turned itself on?” Hill sounded skeptical. Fury, as usual, was less interested in how they’d gotten there than in what they were going to do next.

[...]

Selvig acknowledged him briefly and then returned his attention to the monitoring equipment. “Director, the Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she’s… behaving.”

Fury didn’t comment on the doctor characterizing the Tesseract as female. He also wasn’t interested in Selvig’s notions about its personality. It didn’t have a personality. It was a cube containing energy, and all Nick Fury wanted was to know how to control that energy. “I assume you pulled the plug.”

Fury having no intellectual curiosity explains a lot, tbh. Like how he thinks Loki "kills because it's fun", even though nothing about their prior interaction indicates that. Like, at all. Loki killed only the agents who were attacking him. Because he felt threatened. If he indeed killed for the fun of it, he would have taken them all out and been done with it. Doing so would have both entertained him and made for a much smoother getaway.

“She’s an energy source. We turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level—”

“We prepared for this, Doctor. Harnessing energy from space.”

“We’re not ready. My calculations are far from complete. And she’s throwing off interference radiation.”

Fury watched the Tesseract in its circular containment shell. Eight separate energy sensors built into a frame supporting that shell were designed to measure and conduct that energy. Those sensors in turn rested on stainless-steel support scaffolding. The whole setup sprouted cables and conduits. These were there to supply energy to the Tesseract in a controlled fashion so Dr. Selvig could analyze its reactions. Now they were all shut down, as Dr. Selvig had said, but even so, the Tesseract glowed with a fierce blue energy. It was starting to spill onto the sensors, arcing like electricity. But it wasn’t electricity. It was something much more exotic.

I also find it curious/amusing/something that Fury later accuses Loki of "stealing a force [he] can't hope to control". YOU'RE DESCRIBING YOURSELF, NICK. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAN'T CONTROL IT AND HAS BEEN ARROGANTLY PRETENDING YOU CAN.

The man looked up at them and smiled as he stood. He was not a large man, not remarkable in any particular way. He had long black hair and wore black leather clothing, similar to what Fury was wearing. However, he wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Fury didn’t know where he had come from.

I beg to fucking differ lmao

Fury had the Tesseract in a steel carrying case and was taking a step toward the door when the stranger turned to him and said, “Please don’t. I still need that.”

Kudos to Loki for not forgetting his princely manners even while completely off his rocker. Lol

“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” Fury said. He glanced quickly around, trying to figure the fastest way out.

“Of course it does,” the stranger said. “I’ve come too far for anything else.”

TELL US WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH, LOKI. INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

“Loki?” Dr. Selvig said. He stood up from helping one of his fellow doctors, who was barely conscious. “Brother of Thor?”

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Fury said.

Loki acknowledged Selvig and then returned his attention to Fury.

By "acknowledged", the author means he rolled his eyes so hard he saw his own brain lmao

“I come with glad tidings,” Loki said. “Of a world made free.”

“Free from what?” Fury asked.

Turning back to him, Loki said simply, “Freedom. Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that in your heart…” As he spoke the word “heart,” he turned and touched Selvig’s chest with the tip of his scepter, just as he had with Hawkeye. Selvig gasped, and the same change came over his face that Fury had seen in Hawkeye’s. “You will know peace.”

He's not simply deranged, you know. For Loki, this is actually true. He has never been free in his entire life, and won't be at any point after this either. Yes, there was also the torture and the mind control at play, but even underneath all that, is it any wonder he was vulnerable to the Thanos cult's brainwashing?

Hawkeye had been looking around the complex. Now he stepped up to Loki. “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

Loki looked back at Fury, who said, “Like the pharaohs of old.”

“He’s right, the portal is collapsing in on itself!” Selvig called out from the monitors. “We’ve got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

Friendly reminder, once again, that Loki wasn't even aware the PEGASUS facility was on the verge of collapsing—let alone the cause of it.

“Well then,” Loki said. He glanced over at Hawkeye.

Without a word, Hawkeye drew his gun and shot Nick Fury once, dead center in the chest.

Two things:

1) Every time I see this scene in gifs, all I can think of is, "Pull the lever, Kronk." 🤣

2) So how does the direct mind control of the sceptre work anyway? Because Loki never actually gives Barton a command here. So does he sometimes communicate with his minions telepathically (sort of like The Other does with him), or does Barton just intuit his intent here, or what?

Maria Hill saw Hawkeye come out of the lab into the garage with Selvig, a liaison officer, and a stranger carrying a spear. He looked more like one of the people they’d been recruiting into the Avengers Initiative than an ordinary technician or S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “Who's that?” she asked.

*sigh* In a just MCU, this would have been foreshadowing.

She jumped into a jeep and headed after them. Other S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles followed, filled with agents. They roared along the underground access road that led up to the surface in the New Mexico desert. She was gaining on them and firing as she drove. Sooner or later, she’d be close enough to have a good shot at the stranger.

He had other ideas, though. When he saw the pursuing convoy get too close, he pointed his scepter at them. The tip of it flared bright blue, and a bolt of energy lashed out from it, striking the vehicle in front of Hill and shattering the right side of its passenger compartment. The vehicle slewed around and flipped, rolling and landing sideways across the road. They were blocked.

Interesting of Loki to go for the passenger compartment instead of the driver. Was anyone even sitting there? Just one more example in a long string of Loki being inexplicably merciful to his enemies, I guess. 🤷

They got around ahead of the truck, and Fury leaned out of the helicopter’s side door. He fired, emptying his clip. He could tell from the sparks that some of the bullets had hit, but he was too far away to see if they’d done any damage.

His real target was Loki, but he was protected by the cab of the truck. Fury couldn’t get a good shot at him.

Did Fury already forget that Loki is bulletproof, or...? I mean, I guess that's fair. Earlier, Hawkeye goes to draw his sidearm only minutes after the narration points out that the bullets already fired at Loki had bounced away harmlessly.

Leaning over the truck’s roof and keeping low, however, Loki could get a good shot at the helicopter. A blue bolt lanced out and struck the helicopter’s rotor assembly. All the control mechanisms went haywire, and the helicopter spiraled down out of the sky. The truck drove underneath them as they were about to crash, close enough that Fury could see the gloating expression on Loki’s face.

Haha, good for him.

“Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me,” she said.

“Oh, I’ve got Stark,” Coulson said. “You’ve got the big guy.”

Oh, Natasha thought. That big guy. She said something in Russian. It wasn’t polite.

This has nothing to do with Loki. It just made me laugh.

Nick Fury had called an emergency meeting of the World Security Council. They needed to know what had happened with the Tesseract, and they needed to know what he planned to do about it. He brought up holographic images of all the WSC members, with their faces and locations hidden. He did not know who they were, but S.H.I.E.L.D. reported to them.

Well, that doesn't sound problematic at all, does it?

“The Avengers Initiative was shut down.”

“This isn’t about the Avengers.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Nick Fury was no idiot. He wasn’t going to show all his cards to the World Security Council when he didn’t even know who they were.

I'm glad he at least recognizes the stupidity of working for people he doesn't know, but uh... debatable, otherwise. Lol

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore,” Coulson said. He wasn’t giving up, and that irritated Tony even more than the fact he’d showed up right when the celebration of Stark Tower was supposed to be starting.

*cough*DIVA*cough*

Loki watched Dr. Erik Selvig work, preparing the Tesseract for the next phase of his plan. Technicians and soldiers scurried about on various errands. Loki did not know the details and did not care. They were beneath him. He had his eye solely on the greater prize. It was time to consult with the Chitauri and begin the next phase of the preparations.

Really? You expect me to believe that Loki, the master tactician with "a cunning mind far exceeding Thor and Odin’s", couldn't be bothered to know the details of his own plan? Um, how about no?

Deep space and a field of stars surrounded this rocky world. Pale blue lights glowed where the Chitauri had built their fortress. They gleamed in a set of stairs that climbed to the topmost tower. That was where Loki had made his bargain with the Chitauri: They would be his army and he would open a path to Earth for them. Once Earth was his, and Asgard as well, he would turn the Tesseract over to them.

At least that was what he had promised.

1) Who said anything about Asgard...?

2) Indicator that Loki never planned on actually turning over the Tesseract? I don't know why you'd include this line otherwise.

“Let them gird themselves,” he said. “I will lead them in glorious battle.”

“Battle?” the Chitauri warrior snorted. “Against the meager might of Earth?”

“Glorious,” Loki repeated. “Not lengthy. If your force is as formidable as you claim.”

He had intended to anger the Chitauri, and he had succeeded.

Personally, I saw this less as intending to anger and more as "Loki has no self-preservation instinct and literally cannot help himself". What's to be gained by intentionally pissing off The Other here?

“You don’t have the Tesseract yet.” The Chitauri leader rushed at Loki and stopped just short of him, claws raised. Loki did not move.

“I don’t threaten,” he said, though he was doing exactly that.

LOL

The Chitauri leader backed down but only a step. “You will have your war, Asgardian,” he growled. Then he too decided to make a threat. “If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”

Loki flashed back into his awareness of Earth. He took a deep breath. The Chitauri did not frighten him… but he would have been a fool if he had not possessed a healthy respect for their leader, the mad Titan known as Thanos. For it was Thanos who had given Loki the scepter, and Thanos who had rallied the Chitauri to Loki’s cause… and Thanos who wished to possess the Tesseract for his own monstrous ends. One did not bargain lightly with Thanos—and one certainly did not fail to meet the terms of such a bargain.

Love how this book just repeatedly glosses over the obvious fact that Loki was tortured. In the first chapter, it makes zero mention of his stumbling or other signs of being weakened. Here, it completely omits the pain WE ALL SAW The Other inflict on him. Fuck this narrator, seriously.

Steve had a moment to look around. The commanding officer appeared to be a woman with short dark hair reeling off orders from near the center of the bridge. “S.H.I.E.L.D. Emergency Protocol 193.6 in effect,” she was saying after a series of status orders and acknowledgments. Steve didn’t know what protocol that was. At the moment, all he knew was that he was on a flying aircraft carrier… and wasn’t that enough? Amazing.

[....]

The Helicarrier disappeared from view. From the inside, it didn’t look any different, but Steve saw monitors from satellite feeds, and on those, the Helicarrier had simply become invisible. He corrected himself: He wasn’t just on a flying aircraft carrier. He was on an invisible flying aircraft carrier. The future was pretty… cool, was the word everyone used now.

I'm not the biggest Steve fan, but I will admit to finding his childlike awe over the Helicarrier slightly adorable. Lol

Side note: is someone on this thing coordinating with Air Traffic Control? I... really hope so.

“What did it show you, Agent Barton?”

Barton turned to look at Loki. “My next target,” he said.

Loki nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

Barton took one his bows out of a case and snapped it into shape with a flick of his arm. “I need a distraction,” he said. “And a biometric ID.”

Why the change from "eyeball", I wonder? Seems random. Lol

Inside, Loki had been mingling with the crowd, taking on the appearance of an ordinary man with a walking stick. But as the president of the museum, one Doktor Heinrich Schäfer, began his welcoming speech, Loki decided it was time to make a dramatic entrance. He tapped the walking stick on the floor and it became his scepter. Immediately, to get the crowd’s attention, he aimed it at the nearest museum security guard and fired.

This... didn't happen?? At all??

Loki strode the rest of the way down the stairs and manhandled Schäfer over to a stone altar that was one of the museum’s prized ancient Norse relics. He slammed Schäfer onto his back, forcing a machine over his face. Schäfer cried out in pain and surprise as the machine shone blinding light into his face, holding his eyes open.

On the one hand, confirmation that Loki did not actually shred this dude's eye and he's probably fine. On the other hand, the author completely made up what just happened literally two sentences ago, so their credibility is a little suspect at the moment. Lol

A police car, alerted by the commotion, raced toward him. He blasted it with his scepter, and it spun out of control and crashed.

ACAB!

The crowd froze. Slowly the crowd knelt, and Loki reveled in their submission. “There,” he said. “Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

He's talking about himself here. We all get that, right?

An old man in the middle of the crowd stood. Loki paused in his speech to regard this individual. Around him, all the copies of himself also looked at this old man.

“Not to men like you,” the old man said.

“There are no men like me,” Loki said.

No lies detected.

But Loki was tougher than he looked. He struck back with the scepter, forcing Captain America to parry until Loki found an opening and slammed the butt of the scepter into Captain America’s midsection, knocking him down. Captain America threw the shield again, but this time Loki was ready. He knocked it aside. It fell ringing to the stones of the plaza, and Loki had the tip of the scepter against the back of Captain America’s neck before the soldier could get back to his feet.

Correction: If he'd actually been trying to win, he would have used the tip. (Narrator: he was not trying to win).

A sudden storm rose around the Quinjet. Natasha looked at the instrument panel. There’d been no warning of heavy weather. “Where’s this coming from?” she wondered out loud.

At first, she thought that Loki was responsible. But that didn’t appear to be the case. He looked more nervous than anyone else on the jet.

Loki has Thor-induced PTSD. Understandable, tbh.

Thor let Loki fall well before they got to the ground.

Because Thor is an asshole.

So hey, as long as we're here, let's review how each member of Loki's family responds to the realisation that he's survived his suicide attempt.

Thor- manhandles him, angrily demands to know where the Tesseract is

Odin- refuses to even use his name, implies he should have either slaughtered him as an infant or left him to die

Frigga- tells him not to make things worse (fucking rich coming from the woman who exacerbated his trauma immeasurably by thrusting the throne upon him when he was at his most vulnerable)

Wild, man. I wonder why Loki's convinced his family doesn't give a shit about him. They seem like such loving people to me.

“I remember a shadow,” Loki said bitterly. “Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who was and should be king!”

Because you would have destroyed Asgard, Thor thought. Just to impress our father, you would have annihilated all the Nine Realms. “So you took the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No. The Earth is under my protection, Loki.”

1) Actually, he was trying to save Asgard... from a war that YOU started, numbnuts. He went about it all wrong because he was having a fucking mental breakdown, but at no stage did he even really endanger Asgard, let alone come close to destroying it.

2) Um, what? Where the fuck in Loki's plan was annihilating anything other than Jötunheim? I see Thor shares his friends' impressive conclusion-jumping skills. Not surprising.

3) Thor, I mean this truly and without reservation: go fuck yourself.

Loki chuckled. “And you’re doing a marvelous job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them, and why should I not?”

He... has a point.

“You think yourself above them?”

“Well, yes.”

At least Loki is honest about his condescension, Thor. You should try it sometime.

Suddenly furious, Loki raged at Thor. “I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it—”

“Who showed you this power?” Thor interrupted. “Who controls the would-be king?”

And he will never bring this up again. Ever.

Stepping right up to his brother, Thor shouted back. “Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!” Then he softened. “You come home.”

“I don’t have it,” Loki said. Furious, Thor brought Mjolnir to his hand, ready for battle.

Thor's sort of a one-solution kind of guy, huh? Somebody help me out here, because he's "changed" but his first instinct when he's not getting his way is still to react with intimidation and violence. Funny how that works.

Tony braked and skidded to a halt as the Asgardian rolled away from him, tearing up trees and brush as he went. He got to his feet and extended a warning hand. “Do not touch me again,” he said.

Oh, what's the matter, Thor? Do you not like being manhandled? That's weird because you sure do seem to enjoy doing the manhandling. 😕

“If he gives up the cube, he’s all yours. Until then…” Tony’s faceplate clamped back down. “Stay out of the way.”

He turned to walk back to a place where he could make a clean takeoff. “Tourist,” he muttered.

That was the last straw, apparently, because the next thing Tony knew, the Asgardian’s hammer had hit him about as hard as he’d ever been hit in his life. The force of the blow carried him through the trunk of a tree and laid him out flat in the dirt.

Please note that Thor was not being attacked. He once again used offensive violence against someone who hurt his feelbads. "Changed", my rear.

“Then prove it,” Cap said. “Put that hammer down.”

“Uh, no, bad call,” Iron Man said. “He loves his hammer—”

The Asgardian interrupted Tony by smashing him out of the way with a backhand swing. “You want me to put the hammer down?” he roared, and leaped high into the air, bringing his hammer down toward Captain America.

And again—not in any immediate danger, simply reacting with violence to something that made him angry.

“Oh, I’ve heard. A mindless beast. Makes play he’s still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?”

“How desperate am I?” Fury echoed. He walked slowly over the catwalk to stand in front of Loki. “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace, but you kill because it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

This is called 'projection', kids. Projection, and making up stories about your enemies so they're easier to hate. Fury needs to show his work.

Loki knew he had been heard throughout the ship. He could hear the echoes of the speakers, and even if he had not, he always knew when people were listening to him. That was part of his power, to make them listen… and to make each of them hear something just a little different. Just what he wanted them to hear.

This doesn’t mean anything, does it??

Perhaps he was in a cage right now, but he had been in cages before. Not once had one been able to hold him for long.

This... has to be a reference to his time with the Black Order, right? There's certainly no basis for such a statement pre-2011.

Or the author is just on crack. That's very possible.

Thor took a step toward Bruce. “Have a care how you speak,” he warned. “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard… and he is my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Natasha pointed out.

Citation needed, please.

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension, no surprises…” As he spoke, Tony walked behind Bruce and gave him a little zap with an electrical instrument.

“Ow!” Bruce said.

Tony looked closely at him. “Nothing?” He’d been testing Bruce to see how well he controlled the Hulk. The little shock hadn’t provoked any kind of unusual reaction, which Tony seemed to find a little disappointing.

Ok, but what exactly was Tony's plan if Bruce had Hulked out here? lmao

“Steve,” Bruce said, “tell me none of this smells a little funky to you.”

Cap looked back and forth between the two scientists. Bruce could tell he was struggling with something… but he also wasn’t going to share it. He was too much of a good soldier for that.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

“Yeah. I’ll read all about it.”

“Or you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

Bruce shook his head with a regretful smile. “No, see, I don’t get a suit of armor. I’m exposed. Like a nerve. It’s a nightmare.”

Bruce has BPD. Lol

No, you guys don't understand. That's literally what it feels like.

Thor watched over Coulson’s shoulder as the agent showed him S.H.I.E.L.D.’s current files on Jane Foster. When he had learned that Loki had captured Erik Selvig, his first thought had been of Jane. Thor had destroyed the Bifrost to save the Nine Realms, but he had also cut himself off from her… or so he had thought. It was a terrible decision to make, sacrificing love for duty—yet Thor had done it. If necessary, he would do it again. He hoped it would not be necessary, though, and that was one reason why he had asked Coulson about Jane.

Oh my god, Thor. You spent like, three days with her, max. And people call Loki the dramatic one...

Thor looked out into the sky, gathering his thoughts. “When I first came to Earth,” he went on, “Loki’s rage followed me here, and your people paid the price. Now, again. In my youth, I courted war.”

“War hasn’t started yet,” Fury said.

1) Correction: when your daddy threw you to Earth like a sack of trash down a cosmic garbage chute. You were not here on vacation, bro.

2) No, Loki's rage followed your treasonous friends.

3) LAST YEAR. YOUR 'YOUTH' WAS LAST YEAR.

4) *committed mass murder over an insult

“You think you could make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?”

This possibility hadn’t occurred to Thor. “I do not know,” he said. “Loki’s mind is far afield. It’s not just power he craves. It’s vengeance, upon me. There’s no pain that would pry that need from him.”

1) Opposing Thor = being crazy. Noted.

2) Not everything is about you, buddy. At the risk of repeating myself, this is the guy I'm supposed to believe learned humility? Really? Where?

3) Please note that Thor does not object to torturing Loki because it's immoral or because the thought of hurting Loki pains him. He objects because he doesn't believe it will work.

Thor held Fury’s gaze. It was not the first time he had looked at a one-eyed man who posed him a difficult question. “What are you asking me to do?” he asked, wanting Fury to be clear and to own his words.

“I’m asking what you are prepared to do,” Fury said quietly.

“Loki is a prisoner,” Thor said. He thought Fury was testing him, seeing if he would violate his ideals to find out something they all needed to know. But Thor would not.

"I'm okay with physically assaulting prisoners if they make me mad, but I suddenly draw the line at torture. Even though my 'ideals' didn't appear to be a concern two sentences ago."

If I feel like being generous to Thor, maybe he initially hoped Fury would back off if he just said torture wouldn't work, and then Thor wouldn't have to risk appearing... soft? Weak? I don't know.

“But you figured I’d come,” she said.

“After,” Loki said. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate.” It was a typical approach. Cause misery, and then let someone appear as a friendly face. The miserable person would say anything to keep this friend. Loki had seen strong men break this way, many times.

I'm not sure why the author felt the need to depersonalize this by talking about other men. Loki knows this experience intimately. It's what he's endured his entire life at the hands of his "loving" family. The torture just wasn't physical then as far as we know.

An interesting story, Loki thought. She has much to atone for. He could hear some of her memories, from before her first encounter with Barton. Little girl, he thought, you’ve done some very bad things. And now you think you owe Clint Barton your life… but there is more to it. Loki could tell there was something in her mind that he was not quite uncovering. He pushed a little more.

Is... is this text implying that Loki can read people's minds/memories even without touching them?

“Can you?” he asked. “Can you wipe out that much red?” He listed for her some of the things he knew she had done. “Dreykov’s daughter… São Paulo… the hospital fire? Barton told me everything.” This was a lie. Barton had told Loki certain things about Romanoff, but he was also guessing some others.

He... guessed the details of these very specific incidents? What? lmao

He pushed ahead. Now that he understood her, he could break her. “Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? Pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they are part of you and they will never go away.”

He's talking about himself again. 🥺

For some reason, this book skips right over the part where Loki threatens both Barton's and Natasha's lives. Not sure why; the author clearly has no problem depicting Loki as an unhinged psychopath most of the time. Oh well, whatevs.

Loki couldn’t understand how she had gathered her composure so quickly—and then he did understand. She was a superb actress! Or not even an actress, for he could see through a conscious performance. She was something else. She had been broken down and remade so many times, with so many identities, that she could put them on and take them off at will. And Loki had gotten lost in those emotional costume changes.

He had been outwitted by a mortal. Unthinkable.

Yeah, phew, it's a good thing Natasha figured it out in time. Otherwise, something terrible might have happened—like Bruce Hulking out and rampaging through the Helicarrier. Oh, wait...

“I was wrong, Director,” Cap said. “The world hasn’t changed a bit.” He looked angry and disappointed. Captain America was a big believer in shooting straight and telling the truth. He didn’t like spies and he didn’t like lies, and now he saw he was knee-deep in both.

This novel's hero worship of Steve Rogers is going to kill me. 🙄

“I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction,” Bruce finished.

“Because of him,” Fury said, pointing at Thor.

“Me?”

“Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town,” Fury said. “We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.”

Has anyone figured out yet how this line doesn't conflict with Captain Marvel? Is Fury lying to hide her existence for some reason? Or is this just one of those things that we're supposed to shrug and pretend wasn't retconned?

“A nuclear deterrent,” Tony said. “Because that always calms everything right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark,” Fury said coldly.

On the one hand, yes, good point. But on the other hand, he... stopped making them? So clearly, he no longer thinks they are a good thing?

And also, not to gloss over his past sins, but wasn't Tony born rich? Lol

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” Thor commented.

Tony turned on Thor. “Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?”

Didn't Fury say this in the movie? Why did the author give the line to Tony instead? There are all these... weird changes in the story that are so minor I have no idea why the author made them. Very confusing.

Just like that, all of them were arguing. Cap and Tony were nose to nose, while Bruce and Natasha fired remarks back and forth. Thor stood off to the side, contempt plain on his face.

'Cause he also thinks he's superior to humans. 🙃

Tony and Cap squared off over an argument that they couldn’t even remember starting. Tony was still mad about the last thing Cap had said to him… whatever it was.

In case there was any doubt about the sceptre being the reason everyone starts losing their shit with one another.

Cap stood his ground. “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

Tony had an answer ready for this one. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Hey Steve? You know he invented the suit, right? Like. The suit is literally him.

“Put on the suit,” Cap said. “Let’s go a few rounds.”

Steve putting out big Joe Biden, "listen, fat..." energy here lmao

Thor laughed. “You people are so petty… and tiny.”

Thor, my dude. You literally started a war over being emasculated in front of your friends. I don't think you get to judge other people for being petty.

Fury could see things were spiraling out of control. He started trying to get them all back on track. “Agent Romanoff,” he said, “would you escort Dr. Banner back to—”

“Where?” Bruce interrupted. “My room? You rented my room.”

Nobody had said it out loud, but they all knew the cell currently holding Loki was designed for the Hulk.

What was their plan for containing the Hulk if necessary after sticking Loki in his cage, anyway? Did they even have one?

“Dr. Banner,” Cap said. “Put down the scepter.”

Bruce looked down. He hadn’t even known he’d picked it up.

Why does that sound familiar...?

Even though he could see what was going on, the hostility in the air was still thick enough that Bruce didn’t know whether he could back everyone down… or whether he could back himself down. He could feel tension rising inside him. He could feel the monster trying to get loose.

And yet none of them so much as considers the idea that the sceptre might be having a similar effect on Loki? Ok then.

But even though he was now refocused on the mission, the others still bickered. Loki had gotten into their heads, sowing discord and setting them against each other.

lmao I'd just like to note that Loki didn't actually do anything. This was all them and the effects of just being near the sceptre. #ThanksLoki

“The Tesseract belongs to Asgard,” Thor said.

Why, though?

“I’ll go after it,” Tony said.

“No you don’t,” Cap said, stepping into his way. He wasn’t ready to forget the way Tony had insulted him.

Ok, first of all, you started it. But also, seriously, Steve, that's your number one priority right now? Earth's mightiest heroes, ladies and gentlemen... lol

I have apparently managed to hit the paragraph limit, so we'll return after this short break, I guess. 🙈

↪️ On to Part Two

[backtothestart02]

Just Best Friends - 9/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: “It’s been 84 years...” lolz. I hope you enjoy this! I don’t know when the next chap will come, but as soon as I can write it, I will!

...

Chapter 9 -

A week passed. During that week, Iris made herself completely unreachable – not just to Barry but to Eddie as well. She worked through lunch, so Barry couldn’t take her out, and she worked late hours, so that by the time she returned to hers and Eddie’s apartment, she was so exhausted, she could only heat up some leftovers and collapse onto their bed when she was finished with them.

That also meant no sex, no cuddling, and hardly any talking that wasn’t an incredibly brief apology before passing out or running out the door. And for Barry, it was just one excuse after another, though they always sounded very similar.

Sorry, I have so much work to do. Or… Maybe another time? I just got a new story, and I have a hot lead on it.

He always understood in words, but she could see the disappointment on his face every time. As well as her failure to respond to the fresh bouquet of flowers he set on her desk daily.

They weren’t just excuses though. They were legitimate…most of the time. Were they unnecessary? Probably. She didn’t have to go out of her way to beg her boss for more stories, or to work so far ahead of schedule that she felt she was on the verge of a burn out or collapse.

But she didn’t know how to act now that Eddie was back. She knew she needed to break up with him. She knew that. But she didn’t want to break his heart, and she wasn’t 100% sure Barry would just agree to date her after the hell she’d put him through emotionally. So avoiding both of them seemed to be the only way out.

She’d also come to the conclusion that while irritating, her dad going out of his way to forbid Barry to tell her he was the Flash had come from a place of love, and that she couldn’t stay mad at him any more than she could with Barry. The only problem was she found having that conversation with him was almost impossible because either Eddie or Barry or both seemed to be in his vicinity at all times.

Little did she know though that there was one other person who was taking a keen interest in the situation developing over the past week, and it was the one person she’d been paranoid about for a while before Eddie came back, and who she’d entirely forgotten about as the weight of the three men in her life came barreling down on her.

And that person had apparently had enough of what she was doing and had decided to seek her out for a confrontation of sorts shortly after Barry left during his lunch break for the fifth time that week.

With a slow yet determined saunter, Linda approached Iris’ desk just as soon as Mason disappeared for his daily lunch walk.

“Iris.”

The familiar voice made her freeze. She recovered quickly, but she had a feeling Linda had caught her red-handed and completely unprepared for where this particular conversation would lead. After all, the last time they’d “talked”, Linda had completely brushed her off, and the time before that Linda had told her to her face that she knew Iris had feelings for Barry, even when she’d still been in denial of that fact herself.

“Linda.” She shuffled her papers around on her desk to somehow fill the awkwardness of the moment. “What, uh…what can I do for you?”

Linda folded her arms and sat on the corner of Iris’ desk.

“Was that Barry that just left?”

“Hmm?” She decided to play dumb. “Oh, yeah, it was. He uh, wanted to go to lunch. I told him I had work to do, which I did – do. So, if you don’t mind?”

Linda’s jaw actually dropped.

“Dismissing me so quickly? If I recall correctly, the last time we talked, you were only too eager to get my attention.”

Iris bit her tongue to keep from responding with something she’d regret.

“Let me guess. You’re giving me a taste of my own medicine?” Linda raised her eyebrows.

Iris cleared her throat.

“Not at all. I just…I have work to do. A lot of it.”

“You’ve had a lot of work to do for the past five days, haven’t you?”

Iris’ eyes squinted.

“Have you been…spying on me?”

“Please.” Iris waited. “I’ve been talking to Barry. He’s needed someone to vent to, you know, since before Eddie came back you were practically climbing on top of him every day at lunch and after work and sometimes before work, according to him.”

“That’s not how it was,” Iris said under her breath.

“No? You better clear that up with your supposed best friend then, because that’s how he saw it. He’s crushed that you’re avoiding him again.” She leaned forward. “Which you are doing, right? Neither of us is buying that you suddenly have so much work to do.”

“I do!” Iris snapped. “I…I asked for it.”

Linda’s eyes widened and her mouth formed an ‘o’.

“And why would you do that?”

She started shuffling her papers again.

“That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you made out with my boyfriend after sticking your finger in his mouth and sitting on his lap on our date.”

Iris sighed testily.

“I thought you two broke up.”

“We did.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t? I know it wasn’t your idea.”

“I’m not stupid, Iris. I’m not going to blindly fight for a relationship with someone who clearly wants to be with someone else.”

Iris bit her lip, avoiding eye contact.

“He does?” she asked quietly.

“He’s in love with you!” She lowered her voice when she got a few looks. “He’d take you in a heartbeat,” she paused. “If that’s what you want.”

Iris swallowed.

“But you don’t know what you want, do you?”

“Yes, I…I do.”

“Then what do you want? Please, tell me at least.”

“Why?” She met her eyes again and glared. “So you can run off and tell Barry? Or Eddie?”

Linda rolled her eyes.

“I have no reason to tell your boyfriend anything. Barry, however, I do still care about. And we’re friends now. He deserves to know the truth, even if it isn’t from you. He’s going crazy with all your…mixed signals.”

Iris nibbled on her lip again, guilt weighing her down.

“Iris, hey, there’s something I wanted to…” Mason approached, then came to an abrupt halt, sensing the tension between the two women immediately. “Am I interrupting something?” He looked between the two.

“Not at all.” Linda smiled serenely before looking down at Iris one last time. “You know where to find me, Iris.”

Iris gulped, not looking at her but nodded just before Linda retreated – finally – to her desk across the room.

“What was that about?”

Iris closed her eyes and shook her head before swiveling in her chair toward him.

“Nothing. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

His eyes were full of suspicion, but it was clear his need to discuss something with her was greater.

“I want to show you something.” He took the seat Linda had vacated, then pulled out a folder, revealing to her a familiar face she’d nearly forgotten. “Simon Stagg. Remember him?”

…

Well, there was no longer any way of avoiding it. She had to seek out Barry. Mason’s suspicions about Harrison Wells stirred her insides too deeply, and honestly, made her worried about her best friend, since she knew how much he adored who had become to be his mentor. There was Caitlin and Cisco to consider too, who had known Dr. Wells even longer, but right now all she cared about was Barry.

So, she marched over to CCPD shortly after her conversation with Mason, using the excuse of pursuing a story – which, more or less, she was – to explain her absence at her work site and sought out Barry as soon as she stepped out of the elevator.

Unfortunately, her dad’s eyes locked with hers first. She swallowed, remembering how things were between them. She considered then abandoning a much-needed talk with Barry to finally hash things out with her dad. That course of action was dashed however, when within seconds he had looked away from her and gestured instead in her direction to whoever was standing across from him.

She should’ve known then who it would be, but it didn’t occur to her until he was walking toward her, a grin on his face, no doubt thinking she was there to see him.

“Iris, hey.” He kissed her before she could even think to turn her cheek to him. “Did you have a late lunch today? I have some time now. We cou-”

“Oh, actually, I’m here to see, Barry. Is he upstairs?”

“Huh?”

“In his lab?”

Eddie blinked.

“Um, yeah, as far as I know. There are no active crime scenes where he’d be at otherwise.”

“Great. Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and headed towards the staircase before he could so much as pull her in for an explanation or something more.

Feeling confused and honestly a little hurt, Eddie returned to his desk, Joe sitting now at his, ignoring Eddie’s state as best as he could.

“Should I be worried?” he finally asked.

Joe pretended not to have heard him.

“Joe.”

“Hmm?” he asked, not looking up from the files he was pretending to look over in front of him.

“Should I be worried?”

“About what?”

“About Iris,” he said, as if it should be obvious.

Despite how he felt about the man dating his daughter, Joe looked up to address him. He was also his partner, after all.

“Why are you worried about her?”

Eddie let out a cough of relief, eager to unload his troubles onto somebody – anybody – who would listen.

“She’s made herself busy ever since I got back.”

“She has a job. So do you.”

“More so than usual though,” he pushed on. “She leaves earlier than she used to, and she comes home really late. When she does, she eats some leftovers and crawls into bed without so much as a ‘hey, how was your day’ or ‘I love you, too, Eddie’.” He frowned. “It worries me.”

Now Joe frowned.

“She’s been avoiding Barry too.”

Eddie’s frown deepened.

“When had Barry been trying to meet up with her?”

“On her lunch breaks,” he blurted without thinking, then met his eyes, trying to play it off. “She always says she’s too busy working on a story.”

Eddie leaned back in his seat.

“I haven’t tried to meet up with her for lunch at all this week. I guess I’m so used to her coming here, and if she didn’t, that she had a good reason. I guess she did.”

“Well, there you go.”

Joe started to stand, eager to escape the awkwardness of the conversation.

“But I mean, we haven’t had sex all week.”

Joe finished straightening, then shot him a glare. Eddie’s face fell.

“You didn’t want to hear that.”

“Not particularly, no,” Joe said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He turned and headed for the bathroom. Any place was better than this.

…

About a step and a half before the entryway to Barry’s lap, Iris stalled, nibbling on her bottom lip. Barry had been as pleasant during her intended lunch break as he’d been all week, but she still wondered how accepting he’d be of her, especially when he found out this was a working meeting. She definitely needed to apologize first. How and when was the question, though. It was still beyond her how he hadn’t lashed out at her yet. She’d been treating him so unfairly, and yet time and time again, he kept crawling back to her, as if he was a glutton for punishment.

Well, no more of that. She couldn’t guarantee when she would break up with Eddie, but maybe Linda was right and she could at least explain her behavior this week and tell him she planned to break up with Eddie. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe…eventually.

“Is someone there?” Barry called out, and Iris realized she’d started tapping her shoe against the floor in time with the rapid rhythm of her mind.

She stopped abruptly, then cleared her throat and peeked her head into the doorway.

“Hey.”

She gave an awkward hand wave.

“Iris?”

His brows furrowed, but he started to smile. Lord, help her, it made her heart do a flip.

“What are you doing out there?” He got up out of his seat and headed towards her. “And why didn’t you just come in?”

“S-sorry,” she stuttered, shocked by it as much as he was, then forced herself to walk through the door.

He came to a stop as soon as she was inside and waited for her explanation.

“I guess I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

He gawked.

“Iris, I’ve been trying to see you all week.”

“No, I know. Of course. Right. But uh…I thought my rejecting you today might’ve been your breaking point, and that you wouldn’t want to see me now. Without an apology. Which I am totally willing to make, by the way.” Her chuckle was strained, and she couldn’t meet his eyes.

“What’s there to apologize for?” he asked. “You had work to do. That isn’t your fault. I’m sure you’ve been working hard to catch up.”

“Actually…” She took another step toward him. “I haven’t.”

His brows furrowed, and he sat back down.

“I don’t follow.”

She sighed and sat on the corner of his desk, the only spot where there wasn’t files or a conglomeration of office supplies.

“I asked for extra work.” She swallowed. “On Monday.”

He tilted his head, confused.

“I was trying to be busy. On purpose.” She licked her lips. “So I’d be too busy if you came to see me.”

He froze, his heart thudding away inside his chest. He didn’t know how to take that bit of information, and honestly, he was crushed.

“I don’t understand…you didn’t want to see me?”

The hurt in his voice was palpable. Iris hated that she was doing this to him again. He shouldn’t even want to be her friend after this, no matter how apologetic she was.

“Not just you,” she said, hoping that would soften the blow. “Eddie too. And my dad.”

He was mystified by that. He understood Joe, what with the Flash business and all that, but Eddie?

“What have you got against Eddie?”

“Nothing!” she burst, then got up and started to pace. “I just…” She licked her lips, unable to stop walking and unable to form words either, it seemed. She couldn’t stop though. Not to leave, not to make eye contact. Her hard was pounding, and her breath was coming in short bursts. She felt everything closing in around her and wondered if she was having a panic attack.

Suddenly, she stopped and forced herself to look at him.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No,” he said instantly, standing too. “I want an explanation.”

She swallowed.

“I thought you and I were good last week.”

“We were,” she said. “We are.”

“Yet you purposely didn’t want me near you this week?”

Her knees locked, and she tensed up.

“And Eddie…what in the world did he do except home to you? I would’ve thought you’d be happy about that.”

Tears welled in her eyes. Her fingers were sweaty and tingled. She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

“Iris.”

Answer.

“I don’t love him anymore!”

She covered her mouth at the same moment his eyes bulged, and he nearly stumbled backward.

“What?” he finally managed.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she started to pace again.

“I realized it last week. Or rather, I’ve been slowly realizing it for the past several weeks. I’ve just been…in denial.”

Barry’s pulse started racing. He approached her moving form with one determined step after another.

“What have you been in denial about, Iris?”

She stopped.

“What I just said!” She licked her lips again. “I don’t love him. I’m not in love with him anymore. But I don’t…I don’t know how to tell him. I don’t want to break his heart. Especially after I went out of my way to make him feel bad about thinking there was anything between us, when really-”

“Wait, wait, wait, us? As in, you and I, us?”

She looked up at him reluctantly and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“He doesn’t know I told you how I felt, does he? At Christmas?”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “No, I didn’t tell him that. He’d probably have punched you by now if I had.”

Barry paled, then squeaked, “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed.

“W-Why?” He wrapped his arm around the back of his head.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He gave her a blank look. “You were trying to get his girlfriend to break up with him. To be with you.”

Barry thought about it for a few seconds, then realized that yeah, he kind of had been. He shook his head after he got past that thought.

“I still don’t understand though. If you didn’t tell him about that…” He locked eyes with her. “Did you tell him you…find me attractive?”

“Oh, God, no.” She pressed her face into her hands. “That would’ve been even worse.”

“Worse than a love confession? How?”

“Because it’s coming from me! And I…”

“What?”

She power-walked to right in front of him and prepared herself for the blow of all blows.

“I don’t just find you attractive, Barry. I have…I have feelings for you.”

I’m in love with you – But she couldn’t admit to that yet. Not while she was still dating Eddie.

He swallowed, fighting with the smile that wanted to take over his face.

“What kind of feelings?”

“Barry.” Her voice softened. “You know what kind.”

“Tell me,” he said. “Just so I know for sure.”

He was holding his breath, and she couldn’t blame him. Honestly, she was on the brink of holding hers too.

“You make my heart race, Barry.”

“Iris.”

He started to lean in, and it took all of her willpower to step back out of reach.

“No, we can’t. I can’t. It’s bad enough I cheated once. This can’t go any farther until it’s over.” She met his eyes. “Until Eddie and I are over.”

Barry swallowed.

“And when will that be?”

Her shoulders slumped, and her bottom lip quivered.

“I don’t know.”

His shoulders caved in as well. He forced himself not to get mad, but he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. So, the love of his life finally felt the same way, but she wouldn’t let herself act on it? And she wouldn’t do the one thing that would allow them to be together.

“Is that the only thing you came to tell me?” he asked, unable to keep some chill out of his words.

Iris supposed she couldn’t blame him.

“No…” she admitted, deciding not to mention how she hadn’t meant to tell him as much as she had.

“What else?”

She pursed her lips, hating that she had to turn this conversation into a business one before she could give him the answer that he wanted.

“What else, Iris?” he asked, sounding exhausted when she didn’t answer for too long.

“It’s about, Dr. Wells,” she finally said.

That caught him off guard.

“Dr. Wells? What does he have to do with anything?”

“I hope nothing, but just in case…can we go somewhere else? To talk?”

He wanted to ask her what was wrong with his lab, but he supposed the fresh air would do them both good. Give them a clear head and put everything she’d already said to rest for the time being. After all, she sounded awfully serious about whatever else she wanted to talk about.

“Sure,” he said. “Just let me grab my jacket.”

“Barry,” she called after him as he walked by her.

He stopped when he reached his garment.

“I’m sorry about…everything.”

“Don’t worry about it, Iris,” he said, as he slid his arms through the sleeves. “It’s fine.”

…

Hours later, and on a whim, Eddie found himself at a jewelry store – diamonds, to be more specific. In the back of his mind, he knew his intentions probably weren’t smart. Especially not right now, not with the way things were between him and Iris, especially this week. But there was another part of him that thought this might be just the thing to jolt their relationship back into what it had once been and the potential of what it could be, the future he’d seen from almost the minute he started dating her.

He pointed out a ring nestled in velvet that caught his eye in the display case below him. An employee walked up, inspired by his curiosity and tried to catch his attention.

“Sir?”

“Can I see that one, please?”

The man smiled.

“Of course.”

He reached for the key and unlocked the case. Just as he was pulling the velvet block out with the specified ring upon it, Eddie’s phone started to vibrate.

“Oh, excuse me.”

He turned partially away and glanced at the screen on his phone. He answered immediately, a smile on his face.

“Hey, Iris, what’s up?”

“I’m home,” she said, and he could hear the frown in her voice.

“So early?”

“Yeah, I felt bad for coming home so late every night this week…I thought we could have dinner together.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah?” She sounded relieved.

“Definitely. I’m uh…just running a last-minute errand. I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay. See you then.”

“See you.”

He turned back to the jeweler as he slid the phone back in his pocket, and his eyes widened with enthusiasm as the ring was presented to him.

“Oh, yeah. This is the one.”

[ladyfloriographist]

Uncommonly Pretty

Here is the first part of an Enola Holmes AU story called Uncommonly Pretty where Sherlock Holmes (played by Henry Cavill) and Dr John Watson (played by Tom Hiddleston) develop an infatuation with the Reader (you!) and naughty sexy smut ensues. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this little opening gambit!

XXXX

Warnings: Victorian-era sexism, afternoon tea interrupted

XXXX

The finely decorated knocker seemed to be nickel-plated cast iron. You stopped before the large, black, six-panelled wooden door, topped with an arched stained-glass transom, and gazed at the intricacies that some talented smith had managed to work into the metal.

The details were so profoundly handmade that you hesitated to hook a finger into it and tap it against the small iron knob beneath to announce your arrival.

However, Mrs Hudson was expecting you for tea and biscuits, and it would not do to follow up the first favourable impression you’d left on your new neighbour with a poorer second one.

Clutching a modest bundle of tea cake in one hand, you tapped the door knocker with your other, and took the polite, customary step backwards from the threshold.

Before your low-heeled, laced-up boot even touched the concrete step, the door was flung open from the inside, and Mrs Hudson greeted you merrily.

“How do you do, Miss?” she smiled over your last name, and her round face and kind eyes shone with the glow of receiving a newly formed acquaintance as a guest for the first time.

You returned her infectious smile. “How do you do, Missus Hudson?”

“Come in, poppet. Come in,” she said, hurrying you inside with eager, welcoming gestures. “I’ve warmed the pot. Here, let me take this.” She took the tea cake from your hand and thanked you graciously for bringing it.

“Thank you, Missus Hudson,” you said as you stepped inside 221B Baker Street. Mrs Hudson bid you make yourself comfortable while she steeped the tea; and what a fine hat that is, poppet; and did you trim it yourself; and do you take sugar, ducky.

By the time you sat opposite Mrs Hudson at her respectably quaint tea table, the woman had asked you ten or more questions and given you scarcely enough time to answer all but two of them.

“A seamstress, ma’am,” you interjected, and Mrs Hudson smiled warmly and took a sip of tea from her dainty porcelain teacup. “Millinery is a past-time but one I would gladly devote my working hours to were I able. The terms of my employment presently call for dressmaking.”

“Gifts all worth cultivating, ducky,” Mrs Hudson nodded sagely. “Two skills will serve you better than one in this town.”

You smiled at Mrs Hudson’s wisdom, and sipped your tea while you thought better of mentioning your less ladylike aspirations. Reading was one thing, but writing, researching, publishing—good Heavens, for a woman, they were all something else.

“Thank you, Missus Hudson,” you started to say, but before you could finish a loud crash sounded from upstairs.

Mrs Hudson jumped. “By George!” she spluttered, flustered as she dabbed at the tea that had spilled out of her small cup in her startlement. “Those. Oh, those boys!”

You looked to the ceiling with trepidation, and Mrs Hudson noted the alarm on your face.

She tapped you a few times in quick succession, firmly but reassuringly on the hand. “Not to bother with it, ducky. Don’t fret yourself. Those two’re always—”

A door slammed shut, and two sets of heavy footsteps bounded down the stairs that led up to the second storey apartment. Two muffled male voices huffed laughs and exchanged excited exclamations.

Mrs Hudson stormed to the door of her sitting room, which opened onto the entryway foyer, and wrenched it open roughly. “Sherlock! John!” Her voice rose as she tried to gain the gents’ attention. “What is the meaning of this? I have company!”

You snuck a look into the foyer you had earlier entered by. Two taller men towered over the shorter, heavier set, lovely Mrs Hudson.

“An experiment, Missus Hudson,” said the broader one who had a shock of dark curls, as he pulled on his coat.

“Oh it always is, Sherlock!” came Mrs Hudson’s exasperated reply.

“Ehm. Sherlock…” murmured the leaner one with shorter, gingerish-blond hair and a light smattering of stubble. His gaze was fixed on something out of your line of sight. The coat rack, perhaps.

The one called Sherlock followed his friend’s gaze. “Missus Hudson?” the brunet enquired of his landlady, one dark brow quirked and the makings of a smile teasing his features as he eyed her.

The blond turned to Mrs Hudson also, with glimmering suspicion in his eyes. “What company have we so rudely disturbed, kind lady?”

You swallowed, and sat up straighter in your chair. It would not be totally improper for Mrs Hudson to introduce you to her… acquaintances? Lodgers? The three seemed more familiar, on friendlier terms than that—and you fidgeted needlessly with the collar and tie of your blouse to right it and ensure you were presentable, for any moment now—

Mrs Hudson turned to you with an apologetic smile. “You don’t mind, do you, poppet?”

“Not at all, ma’am,” you heard yourself say—and pleasantly, too. Not missing a beat.

She gave you a quick smile, crinkling her nose, then turned back to the two tall gentlemen. With an air of feigned irritation, she said, “Well come on then!” and gestured them into her sitting room with a wave of her hand.

The men followed behind her, walking with a slow, leisurely gait that bordered on the predatory, especially in contrast to Mrs Hudson’s shorter, quicker strides as she hurried to seat herself opposite you. Combined, it lent the fellows a sense of comfortable ease to be in Mrs Hudson’s apartment, and stopping before the tea table, the faintest of smiles graced their handsome features as the pair gazed at you.

Such striking blue eyes so consumed your attention that you almost didn’t register Mrs Hudson speaking.

She had just finished introducing you, and went on to say, “this is Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective for Scotland Yard, if you please—” the brunet man blinked slowly and smiled warmly, “—and this is Doctor John Watson, who operates a medical practice in Kensington, don’t mind if I do—” the blond subtly tilted his head to the side and smiled kindly, “both of whom reside in the upstairs apartment.”

Both of them? Upstairs? “How do you do?” you greeted them, and followed it quickly by saying, “a pleasure, gentlemen. We are neighbours.”

“How do you do?” replied Dr Watson.

“You have taken the lodging at 221A, Miss?”

His voice rolled over your last name with a deep rumble. “I have. The upstairs apartment, also,” you said, and perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the two gentlemen seemed to share a swift sidelong glance at each other before regarding you once more. Outwardly ignoring it, you said, “I arrived not three days past, and had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the kind Missus Hudson on my first day in London.”

“Indeed,” said Sherlock, and the intensity of his now scrutinous gaze started to unnerve you.

“Missus Hudson is a dear friend, for whom we hold much affection,” said Dr Watson with what appeared to be genuine fondness and good feeling. Grinning, he slung a jovial wink at Mrs Hudson, who blushed and playfully dismissed him with a flick of her hand.

“You are come to the city alone?” said Sherlock, breaking through the frivolity.

“Sherlock!” exclaimed Mrs Hudson—but he continued to stare directly at you, and with a creased brow and pursed lip.

What were the chances, you consider inwardly, that so wild an assumption just happened to be correct in this instance. “Astute, Mister Holmes!” Your interlaced fingers flexed against each other in your lap. “A clever guess.”

“It wasn’t a guess,” he said, so firmly it was almost stern.

“We’d best be on our way, old boy,” John said quickly with a light tone, and he glanced between yourself and Sherlock as he pulled his gloves from his coat pocket.

“Right you are, Watson,” said Sherlock, finally tearing his attention away from you. “A fine spread, Missus Hudson,” he complimented his landlady with a smile, “apologies to have caused a disruption to your afternoon tea.”

“No bother,” sighed Mrs Hudson. “When can I expect you home, you two?”

Dr Watson blinked and opened his mouth, hesitantly, to speak, and Sherlock promptly turned from her without answering.

“Welcome to London, Miss,” Sherlock said to you with a genial nod and twinkling eyes. All trace of his prior severity had vanished.

“Most pleased to make your acquaintance,” smiled Dr Watson with bright white teeth. His eyes and mouth crinkled with the depth of his pleased, playful expression.

The pair of them made you return serve with a broad grin of your own, which you shared between them. “Quite. Thank you indeed, gentlemen.”

The pair parted your company, and as the door closed Mrs Hudson sighed and pulled a napkin over her lap. She shook her head, muttering about the impropriety of two such fine, full grown men as that, as she reached for the jam.

Outside and down the steps, Sherlock adjusted his tie and Watson checked his pocket watch, the two taking pains not to meet each other’s eyes.

After a few moments of pointless fidgeting, John cleared his throat. The case first, and this new acquaintance second. He glanced down Baker Street. “Shall we go on, old chap?”

“She is uncommonly pretty,” Sherlock rushed to say at the first opening of conversation.

“Exceedingly so,” Dr Watson said vehemently, relieved, all pretence dropped. He turned quickly on his heel to face Sherlock as if to emphasise his agreement with eye contact.

“Striking, John.”

“What are we to do, Sherlock?—"

Sherlock’s broad chest rose in a sigh.

“—The woman is our neighbour!” He quietened himself down, tossing a quick glance at the sitting room window of 221B. “She lives right next door,” he hissed. “We will share a wall, Sherlock—we have been for three days!”

“I know that, John.”

“And?”

“And…” Sherlock trailed off and squinted, looking in the same direction Dr Watson had earlier perused. Then, briefly glancing at his friend and clapping him on the upper arm, Sherlock said, “it means we shall see more of her all the easier,” and set off, strolling past John and down the street.

[chrisevansszn]

MAKE IT LIKE IT WAS PT 4‼‼

Shit is getting real 😳

Thank you for the likes. I hope you are enjoying this as much as I am!!

1.3k word count‼

It has been a rough few day. You and Chris are sleeping in separate rooms, the baby can definitely sense something is wrong, and you have yet to return to work. You have been working from home and rescheduling clients and lying saying that you are ill. You decide to go into work tomorrow. It’s Friday and then you are free again. Chris came up to you last night, and you guys had a conversation. He expressed how much you guys marriage means to him and that he was willing to do anything. You both agreed to therapy just to see if this is even salvageable.

 

You wake up the next morning and get dressed. Since its Friday, jeans, blouse, and heels of course. Maxwell is already gone with the nanny. “Good Morning”, you say to each other. Not much more. It was hard walking into your business…embarrassing the least. You hold a meeting and apologize for your actions. Nothing more, nothing less. You get your day started, and the phone rings. It’s Mateo. You decline it. He can call Chris for whatever he needs.

 

The weekend goes by.  It’s Monday morning, and it’s the first counseling session. You found Dr. Grant on the internet and ran with it.

 

“Good Afternoon, and welcome”, she says so politely. You both respond. “Can I get a little history about you two and tell me why we are here today?”, she requests. Chris is doing all the talking, why should you?  You both are on opposite sides of the couch, nowhere near touching each other. He’s the reason why yall are there.

 

“Chris, what was it about the other woman that made you choose her?”, Dr. Grant asks.

Chris is floored, and terrified to answer. “Um….I really don’t know”. “Chris you have to be honest here. Y/N deserves to know”. “Well…um…I guess because she was something new… and different”.

 

Your heart sunk and your head dropped. Instant tears are streaming. That hurt and bad. Chris sees your tears and puts his hand out to touch you, but then stops. Dr. Grant picks up the tissues and you grab a couple.  

 

“Chris, why did you stop yourself from consoling your wife?” “I am not allowed to touch her right now…”, he replies. You get yourself together. “Y/N, tell me how you feel.” “Like I want a divorce…I’ve already contacted a lawyer and everything”.

 

“YOU CONTACTED A DIVORCE LAWYER??”, Chris yells. His eyes are wide open, he couldn’t believe it. “Y/N, are you serious”, he asked. You look at Chris. “Yes, I got all my questions answered about the business, the house, and my baby”. You tell him without emotion.

 

“Ok Chris, calm down”. “What is stopping you from taking the next step with the divorce Y/N”, the doctor asks. “I  want to be around by baby every day, and Chris says he wants to make it work”. “I’m trying”, you reply. You both finish up the session, and head home. The car ride is silent. You guys arrive home, and Chris walks into the kitchen to grab a drink.

 

“I had not a clue you were serious about the divorce lawyer.”, Chris says as he takes a drink.   “I told you I was Christopher”. “I can live without you and Maxwell. You both are my world.”. You look Chris in the eyes and go upstairs to take a shower. You are feeling pretty rebellious tonight. You text your best friend, Brittany, and ask to go out for drinks and she says yes. You put on a beautiful black form fitting dress, open toed heels, and do your make up. You walk downstairs and see Chris playing with Maxwell.

 

“Where are you going dressed like that?”, Chris is irritated looking at you from head to toe. “Out for drinks, I will be back later”.

You grab your purse and keys and walk out. You left out at about 8:30PM. You and your friend go to a local bar to get drinks and to dance. A couple of men flirt with you and you flirt back. You both are dancing away on the floor. You can even remember how many drinks you’ve had. You look at your phone and its almost 1AM. “I have to go. It’s getting late”, you say to Brittany.

 

You make it home safely, but you are a little more drunk than what you thought. You stumble out the car when you hear screeching tires. It scares you but you continue to walk up the driveway. Next thing you know, someone is grabbing you from behind. You are doing your best to fight back. You are yelling “get off of me, and help”, but no one hears you. The two men throw you in the back of the car and begin beating you. You hear the car take off and you are just screaming for help and for them to stop. They continue, fist after fist to the head, back, stomach. Everywhere. It seems like it lasted forever. Then the car stops. One man drags you out and leaves you on your front yard, and they speed off.

 

What just happened??? There is blood everywhere. You manage to get some strength and crawl to your front door.  You ring your doorbell…over and over. You are leaning against the door, and it finally opens. Chris catches you. “OMG Y/N, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?”, he yells. Chris looks you over, two black eyes, a busted lip, scratches and bruises on your face. He lefts up your dress and you are bruised and bleeding.  Chris has a lot of connections, so he calls up a friend who is also an ER doctor. “I NEED YOU TO COME TO BY HOUSE Y/N HAS BEEN BEATEN BADLY!”

 

The doctor arrives and takes a look at from head to feet. You are bruised pretty badly but the main issue is that your ribs are fractured. You have to take it easy for a while and will be wrapped up for some days. Going to the hospital wasn’t an option, this would-be all-over town. The doctor leaves, and Chris helps you out of your clothes and runs you a warm bath. “Honey, who did this to you?” “Chris, I don’t know. I just made it home from the bar and two guys grabbed me, put me in their car, beat me for what seemed like an eternity, and then threw me in the front yard”. You are crying nonstop. Everything hurts so bad. “Two men? Fucking Mateo! That’s who did this. I am going to fucking kill him! I forgot to get his money to him the other day. That fucking bastard is dead!”. You have never seen Chris so mad in his life! His face was extremely red, and eyes were such a dark blue they were almost black. Chris is shaking as he tries to wash all the blood off of you. He gets your dressed in one of his t-shirts and lays you in the bed.

 

“Chris…please don’t leave me…I’m so scared to be alone”. “Baby, I’m not going anywhere I promise.” He moves your hair back and kisses your forehead, and then lays next to you in the bed. Oh, how he missed lying next to you, holding you, kissing you, and making love to you. The doctor gave your medicine for pain, so you fell asleep quickly. Once Chris realized you were out, he got out of the bed and went downstairs to make a phone call.

 

“Hello”…

“Mateo, you are a dead mother fucker!”……

[thadelightfulone]

All I Want... 25 Days of Christmas Challenge, Day 5

November 21st - Part 2

Erik’s tablet chimed as he finished up the dishes. He set aside the leftovers for later and went to see what DeeDee had to say.

He roared with laughter at how she ended the email. Why was she so stuck on finding out if he found the love he described? Her curiosity tickled him and now he had to decide how to navigate this conversation away from that kind of talk. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about the non-existent once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that he wanted. But how do you explain to someone how you never felt you deserved it, so you never went looking for it? And therefore, you don’t have it. 

Erik sighed and reached for something stronger than water to drink. 

He took the tablet, the bottle and glass into the living room. He took a seat on the couch and cracked his knuckles and began to write his response for the Curious DeeDee. Erik shook his head and laughed again. 

Erik hoped this would be enough to get DeeDee away from asking again, but something told him it wasn’t over.

---

DeeDee had devoured half of the pizza and the bottle of wine. She went to her room to  change out of her cleaning clothes into her favorite hoodie and a pair of yoga pants. 

Her laptop went off when she returned from the back, and DeeDee jumped onto her couch in excitement. She couldn’t wait to find out that he found his true life long love. 

If she couldn’t find it for herself, there was no reason for her to not want that for everyone else. Live vicariously through her new friend, Erik. Wait, could she consider him a friend? She scrunched her face at that rude thought and opened his email.

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Hi Dee Dee,

I know you know I meant science, but I will answer one of those questions to quell your curiosity. I, also, commend you for pursuing your doctorate, and in advanced chemistry, no less. 

So, it’s kind of a funny story, but I never meant to leave it in there. 

Fun fact about the note, it is much older than you think. I was a civil engineering major during undergrad, when I originally wrote that note and left it in the book. 

It happened when I was returning all my checked out books from the library. I was getting ready to move and needed to get them all in to avoid any replacement fees that would have prevented the conferral of my doctoral degree. So, I turned all of those books in without checking them. Which was definitely out of character for me. Especially since I lived by all my written notes for both class and research. 

I discovered it was missing when I went to look for it after the move. I knew exactly where it was, but I knew I wouldn’t be going back to get it. So, it was just out there. Besides, I knew what it said by heart, so it was fine.  

I will tell you I never expected to be discussing it years later though. It has been a very pleasant surprise.

Thank you,

E

“Of course, he would avoid the damn question.” She huffed out and poured another glass. It should not be that hard to answer, either he found it or is still in search of it. DeeDee’s hand stilled as she brought it to her lips. Nope, not going there tonight. She took a long drink of her wine.

She set the glass down, drew up her legs and crossed them before settling the computer on her lap. In a flurry, DeeDee’s fingers danced across her keyboard as she wrote her response. The alcohol heated her up to match her current mood. 

---

Erik was chilling, in a half-assed attempt to watch the movie playing on TV. He had turned the volume down because the woman’s high pitched tone was grating on his nerves. He set the whiskey down on his coffee table and leaned back with his feet propped up and closed his eyes. 

The easily recognizable email alert stirred him. Oh, she had time. It had only been about 20 minutes since he sent the last email. He sat up and opened up the email. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mr. Erik, 

So, you really aren’t going to answer that other question? Ok, that’s fine. I’ll let it slide for now.

Thank you for that. I have always wanted to work in the science field and I found toxicology while I was working on my Bachelors. I enjoy it and definitely appreciate having Dr. O as my mentor. 

That is an interesting story. The one time you lost control and you left something like the note behind. Well, I guess it is just my luck that I found it and decided to look for you, huh? Oh, and you’re welcome. 

What do you do now? I know you aren’t working in a lab or researching much anymore.  

I read a little bit about you but I don’t know much about the work that the Wakandan Outreach Centers do. I would love to hear about it.

DeeDee 

“That’s right. Quis, did say she was one of his students.” Then why was he worried about the person being a stalker. Erik set the tablet down and reached for his cell to text him. 

Erik: Quis, why were you worried about DeeDee?

Quis: What? 

Erik: About stalker potential?

Quis: Man, I didn’t even know it was her until she came and showed me a picture.

Erik: What picture?

Quis: Our Grad Student of the Year picture from the front of the Southern Digest.

Erik nodded his head, “So, Miss DeeDee knows what I look like. Or what I looked like.”

Quis: Everything good, man. 

Erik: Yeah, yeah. Just wanted a little background, can’t be too sure of people asking for help these days.  

Quis: DeeDee could never stoop to Karina’s level. She’s safe. 

“The hell, she is.” Erik picked up his glass and took a sip. “This woman is becoming more dangerous, as we speak.”

Quis: So, I take it that you can be of use to her?

Erik: Uh yeah, she is very sharp. 

Quis: You have no idea.

Erik: Thanks again. Oh, and I got the email, so I’m making plans now. 

Quis: Great. Later, man.

“If Marquis vouched for her, then I have nothing to worry about.”

Erik dropped his phone back onto the couch and picked up the tablet. 

“Here goes nothing.”

--- 

DeeDee was on Spotify. She picked a list at random and let the music take her away. She was slowly bodyrolling to Rome Flynn’s ‘Keep Me In Mind’ with a refreshed glass in hand, when her phone blinked. She walked over to it and saw that Erik had sent another email. She took a sip and picked up her phone to open his reply. 

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

DeeDee,

How did I go from Erik to Mister? 

I guess if you get to know me better than maybe you would find out the answer to your question. 

But you are right. I tend to have a tight rein on things, it has always been that way. So, when I lost the note, I was irritated before I realized it wasn’t going to matter in the long run. But it appears to have landed in exceptional hands. *winks*

Well, I am in the family business. My family started the Wakandan Outreach Centers. The first one was opened up here in Oakland. I am the Director of Operations for it and all the Centers on the West Coast.

My first love will always be science. So, although, I may not be active in the field according to your definition. I still use everything I learned and conduct research with my cousins on a regular basis.

Since you know so much about me. Tell me something about DeeDee. Like how much longer do you have to complete your doctorate? 

Mr. Erik

“Does he think that wink is gonna work on me?” DeeDee hid her smile behind the glass. “Damnit.” 

She locked up the phone and walked back to her couch. DeeDee traded devices and picked up her laptop to reply to Erik. 

“You don’t get to wink at me and then wash over the topic again.” 

DeeDee pressed down hard on each key as she typed. She admired the fact that his family was close enough to work together on something as big as the successful operation of multiple Outreach Centers across the U.S. But she would not rest until he answered her. 

“You aren’t cute, Mr. Erik.” She glanced over to the notebook, where the newspaper clipping of him and Dr. O was folded up inside. She recalled some dimples and a bright smile. He definitely towered over her 5’4 frame. He stood at least 2-3 inches taller than Dr. O, and she had to look up at him all the time. “Yeah, you not that cute.”

She clapped her hands and hit the ‘send’ button. Her phone went off. She saw Beverly sent something in the group chat.

Bev: Dinner and the club, tonight?

Phyll: You know I’m down. 

DeeDee: No thanks. I’m covered for the rest of the year.

Bev: Come on, DeeDee. 

DeeDee: Phyll, don’t you have work?

Phyll: Don’t try to change the subject, Dee. 

Bev: You ain’t doing nothing important. It’s not like you have something to study for anymore.

DeeDee looked at her computer. “Come on, Erik. Give me a reason to stay home tonight.”

---

Erik just brought the glass to his lips when the tablet alerted him to another email. So, they were really doing this tonight? Back and forth emails in real time. He doesn’t even remember the last time, he looked forward to hearing from someone. It had been a while since someone had his attention like that. And after a few simple emails, he found that DeeDee squirmed her way into that space. 

“What’s up Miss DeeDee?” He opened the email, “Ready to share?”

SUBJECT: RE: ‘MgYHeArTaNdSOULa’

Mister Erik, 

*pouts* Fine. I don’t know why you can’t just answer the question now, but ok. 

That is wonderful. Sounds like the family business is treating you well. And you are enjoying what you do. That is all I want from my career. I want to do research and teach others. It’s a growing field so if we can get more men and women of color into STEM careers, I am here for it. 

Something about me -- I’m an only child and a legacy student. Both of my parents attended Southern. In fact, it’s where they met all those years ago. And I like to read...like I can read anything and get lost in someone else’s world for hours.

But this is hopefully my final semester, I am preparing to defend my dissertation next month. Wish me luck!  

DeeDee

“Her parents met at Southern?” Erik put the tablet down and walked over to his fireplace. He picked up the center picture from the mantle and closed his eyes briefly.  Two people were standing together in front of a large building. He rubbed his fingers over the top of the image of his parents. It read John B. Cade, it was the library at Southern University. Where his parents met and fell in love. 

Erik took a deep breath and put the picture back up. He stood there and looked at the tablet.

“Is it possible that she could be?” He shook his head before he went down that road. The image of the last woman he thought could be his one and only flashed across his mind. He groaned out. Erik walked over to the couch and grabbed the tablet. “Only one way to find out.”

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