#what exactly is it about this pairing (and these prompts) i can't resist??

[altered60]

Prompt: Northern Lights picture prompt from @roosmavprompts

Title: blinded by the light

Author: altered60

Rating: E

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, First Time, Love Confession, Light Angst, Maverick POV, Car Crash - Minor, Minor injury, Bradley fussing, There was only one Bed, Feelings Reveal, First Time, Explicit Sexual Content, implied Bottom Maverick, implied switch, Northern Lights, Oblivious Maverick

Word Count: 8140

Summary:

Maverick loved to fly. As evident in the career he chose, where he lived, the people he hung out with and the fact he’d taken on a season to fly air shows all across Europe. The trip had nothing to do with Bradley being deployed for a year and Maverick wanting extra time and distance from home to forget how his feelings had grown from friendship to…more. 

But when an accident occurs abroad, Maverick is suddenly faced with a choice.

Take that shaky step into the unknown and soar, or stay with feet firmly on the ground?

~*~*~*~*~

Click here to read!

[rebeliz7]

Dangerous

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader / Natasha Romanoff x Reader / Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Request: 32 & 64 prompts for Wanda or Natasha or maybe both😏

32. “If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

64. “You’re not taking me to bed. ever.” “Who said it had to be on the bed?”

…

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me God.” Natasha threatens you, annoyed and left eye twitching. 

She’s not being serious, at least not entirely, but you still raise your hands in surrender and lean back in your seat. 

However, her eyes stay firmly locked with yours, and you have to smile at how worked up she seems. She rolls her eyes when you smile, just like you were expecting her to, and the meeting moves along. 

You weren’t interrupting her exactly, but it’s become intensely apparent that your presence annoys the hell out of Natasha. Whatever the reason.  

Not that you go out of your way to annoy her, that’s not the case at all. The thing is, and you’ve been aware of this for a while now, you make her nervous. So nervous that she doesn’t know how to deal with you. 

No one else seems to be aware of that little fact, although the entire Avengers Team lives together for the time being. But Natasha knows that you know, which makes her angry. 

Irrationally so, you must say. 

“She’s gonna get you one of these days.” Clint warns you in a low voice. 

“Yeah, but not today.” You joke, and Clint laughs softly to himself. 

“You don’t wanna push Nat. Trust me.” 

“Oh I'm not worried, trust me.”

…

The meeting ends on a neutral note, since Sam and Bucky lost track of their target on their latest mission. A team needs to fly out to Mexico to lend a hand and things will get a move on again. 

Steve and Clint are going, and so is Shuri. This is not Shuri’s first mission, but you take it upon yourself to get her as ready as she can be before they fly out. 

She’s grown on you, in a 'younger sister' sort of way. You guess it's because she’s younger than you, and so amazingly smart, that her awe for everything you guys do endears her to you greatly. 

“Don’t get killed while I’m gone.” She tells you as you walk her into the hanger, and you’re tempted to laugh. 

“You’re going on a mission with Barton, you’re the one that should be worried. I’ll be fine right here.”

“True, but Natasha is about to kick your ass into a coma if you keep pushing her.” She reminds you, and you huff indignantly. 

“Why does everyone think she can kick my ass that easily?” You ask loudly, just as Clint comes out of the jet with a pointed look. 

“Because she can.” He deadpans. “And she will if you don’t give her some space.”

“I didn’t hear any of that.” You pointendly tell him while Shuri gives you a goodbye hug. “Still trying to process this lack of faith from both of you in my fighting skills.”

“Keep it up.” Clint tells you with another look.

“That’s what she said.” You joke, and you hear Shuri laugh too. Clint chuckles and shakes his head at you, probably thinking that you’re gonna get your ass kicked for real.  

“There’s a kid here!” Steve shouts from the jet, and you run back inside before that lecture reaches your ears.  

…

When you walk inside the kitchen you find Wanda by the stove, stirring a red sauce and your spirits instantly pique up. 

“Can I have some?” You ask, coming up behind her. She yelps in surprise, and you press a kiss on her cheek. 

“You scared me.” She smiles, her cheeks tainting red at your proximity, and you lean against the counter as she turns off the stove before checking on the pasta. “Can you set the table? This is ready.”

She’s a pro at this, and you can't resist her cooking. 

“It smells really good. My mouth is watering already.” You tell her as you set out two plates, and her cheeks grow redder. 

You smile to yourself, and can’t deny that you’re almost inclined to kiss those cheeks again, but you resist the urge. You and Wanda didn’t exactly date, but you did sleep together a few times, and you thought of asking her out properly, but the timing was never right so nothing real ever came up from it. 

Then she moved on -with Vision of all people- and you moved on too. Not that anyone was supportive when you started dating Emma Frost, and maybe you see their point now. Emma was a wild ride, to say the least. 

Shaking your head to get rid of the memories, you pass Wanda the plates. 

“Can you get another one?” Wanda asks you. 

“This isn’t dinner for two?” You ask as you go to take down another plate, and she shakes her head. 

“Natasha is here too. She went to take a quick shower, so she'll be here any minute.”

You smile to yourself. 

...

Natasha is tempted to bolt the moment she sees you’re going to join them for dinner, and you grin when you meet her eyes. It must be infuriating that you can so easily tell what goes through her mind, when she’s spent her entire life training to be unreadable. 

You know she hates it, and often wonders how you’re capable of doing it. To be quite honest, you have no idea either. You just have this sixth sense when it comes to her, that lets you read her like an open book. 

But, you keep your mouth shut all through dinner. You behave, while Wanda and Natasha chat away. You even get seconds, and fill their glasses with more wine when they get low. 

All in all, you don’t annoy Natasha at all while you eat, and you even offer to clean up while they move to the living room with a second bottle of red to continue their conversation. 

You put the dishes in the dishwasher, wipe down all the surfaces, and when you’re done you take a beer from the fridge with the intention to leave them to it. 

“You can join us.” Natasha calls out, just as you take your first sip. 

“You sure?” You ask her, and she rolls her eyes, her go-to reaction whenever you open your mouth.

“As long as you keep the innuendos to yourself, we’re okay.” She sips her wine delicately then, and you -a mere mortal- become entranced with the shape of her lips, and the sensual way in which she drinks. 

“Sure.” You clear your throat, and drink almost half of your beer in one go. 

You’d be lying if you said that you’ve never thought of Natasha in other, much more naked circumstances, but you’re aware that that is never gonna happen, and you’re okay with it. 

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet.” Wanda notices after a while when she comes back with yet another bottle of red, and another beer for you. 

“I don’t want to annoy the pretty lady over there.” Natasha groans at your response, which only makes you smile. You almost can’t believe how easy it is for her to become agitated in your presence. 

“You gotta try harder than that.” She deadpans, and Wanda takes the seat next to yours instead of sitting in front of you, like she was before she went to the kitchen. 

“I’m not annoying, am I?” You ask Wanda, and she gives you this smile that you immediately feel drawn to. 

You breathe in deeply as she gives you this look that makes hot electricity run through you, and runs her fingers through your hair. You do miss her, especially when she’s looking at you like this and her fingers are in your hair.

“You’re quite charming.” She says, and you think she might reciprocate if you were to kiss her right now. 

“You see?” You look at Natasha, and she rolls her eyes, but not with malice. 

“Maybe I just don’t like you.” She says before sipping her newly refilled glass of wine, and you clutch your chest in mock offense. 

“You wound me.” You scoff while smiling, but deep down you do feel hurt by her words. Not a lot, but still. 

“Natasha likes you.” Wanda tells you then, and you’d think she’s joking if the look on Natasha’s face wasn’t so telling. 

“She does, huh?” You ask, mostly to yourself. 

“I thought there were things we agreed on not sharing with anyone.” Natasha reminds her, and Wanda shrugs lightly, the glass of wine close to her lips as she smiles. 

“What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom?” She asks, and with a start you realize that she’s slightly drunk, and oversharing is -unfortunately- her one obvious tell. 

That’s how everyone found out that you two were sleeping together a while ago, and right now she’s just revealed that she and Natasha are a little more than just friends.

“I swear to God, if you even think of saying anything right now.” Natasha threatens you, and you laugh, your comeback at the tip of your tongue. 

“She likes you too.” Wanda tells Natasha, her finger pointing at you, and you choke on your beer. 

“You’re not seriously trying to play matchmaker here.” Natasha’s grin is otherwise telling of how amused she’s finding this entire exchange. 

“What? It's not like I even had to look inside her head to know that.” Wanda says, and you finally put your beer down after getting your coughing fit under control. “I’m not wrong, am I?” 

She has the audacity to shoot you a smug look, as if she wasn’t throwing you under the bus here.

“Well, no.”

“Great.” Natasha sneers. 

“Okay, now hold on.” You speak up as Wanda laughs, and you take the glass of wine from her hands. She’s had enough to drink. “There are different levels of liking someone.”

“Educate us, please.” Wanda is trying to hold back laughter now, and you really - she’s just - she’s such a little shit.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly kick Nat out of my bed. But, I’m not interested in anything more than that. No offense.” You add quickly.

“None taken, and you’re not taking me to bed. Ever. So don’t worry about it.” Natasha tells you, and how can you not take that one? Sometimes she just makes it easy for you. 

“Who said it had to be a bed?” You retort and her face turns red, and you’re not sure if she’s about to kick your ass or just shoot you on the spot.

However, you’re not expecting her to walk over, and kiss you dead on the lips. Which is exactly what she does. 

When she pulls back Wanda is laughing, and you’re pretty sure you’re dreaming. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Natasha asks when you finally open your eyes, and you swallow with difficulty. 

Without waiting a beat you pull her back in, kissing her again, a bit more forcefully than she did first, and she kisses you back in earnest. A part of you isn’t sure of what’s happening, but the other part of you is enjoying this turn of events quite a bit. 

“Well, well, well.” You comment when she pulls back, as if she’s finally realized what she was doing. If you’re smiling like a lunatic it’s only because you truly can't help it. 

“Is anyone going to kiss me?” Wanda asks, and you break eye contact with Natasha to look at her. 

“Come here, you needy monster.” You pull her onto your lap, and she straddles you with ease and familiarity. A pretty smile on her pink lips as she cups your face, and you wrap your arms around her waist. 

Kissing Wanda is still heaven. You’re once again submerged in her world, and you still find it incredibly addictive. She bites your bottom lip softly as she rocks her hips forward to meet yours, and you can’t help but let your hands wander. 

Grabbing a handful of her ass you pull her closer to you as she deepens your kiss, and you can taste the red wine on her tongue. Her breath is hot as she breathes heavily into your mouth, and your mind becomes fuzzy with want.

“Such a good kisser.” Wanda says against your lips, and you smile sweetly. She’s so adorable, especially from this angle, and the way she scrunches up her nose makes you want to kiss all over her face. 

“Better than me?” Natasha asks, and to your surprise you turn your head to find her sitting right next to you. 

“I’m not sure.” Wanda says with a false thoughtful look, and hidden smile. 

Natasha doesn’t give her a verbal answer, instead you watch the redhead grab Wanda by the neck, and pull her down for an intense kiss that has Wanda moaning in a matter of seconds. 

You watch them kiss while holding Wanda’s hand, and your throat dries up. You watch, and realize that this is actually happening. You watch until you can’t anymore. 

Grabbing a hold of Wanda’s arm you pull her back to you, and kiss her hungrily. She’s still moaning, her hands now desperately pulling off your shirt, as you do the same with her sweater. 

You hear Natasha softly chuckling next to you, but you’re already too wrapped up in everything that Wanda is to care about the world, let alone Natasha’s smug laughter. 

“I’ve missed your lips,” Wanda says as she pulls back slightly, a tipsy smile on her extremely kissable lips. 

You smile while your hands squeeze her bare waist, and you don't hold back from kissing her again. You’ve missed her lips too, and you hope she can read between the lines. 

Her hands in your hair pull back lightly, exposing your neck as she moves to place heady kisses all over it. You’re breathing rapidly now, your hands massaging her breasts, as she licks a path up your throat, still pulling on your hair. 

“Kinda feeling left out here.” Natasha’s voice breaks through the fog in your mind, and Wanda sits back on your lap, as she tries to get her breathing under control. 

“I’m not sure of what's happening exactly.” Wanda says as you inch closer to her. Your hands are still on her, touching every inch of her exposed skin as you can, while she combs back your hair. You kiss her upper breast, careful not to leave any hickies, despite desperately wanting to. 

She gasps, and you look up to kiss her lips, focusing on pinching her nipples now as she rocks her hips forward. 

“You want to stop?” You ask after pulling back only the necessary amount to be able to ask her that. 

“No.” She shakes her head, her hand gently caressing your cheek as she looks into your eyes. “I think I want you both.”

Instinctively you look towards Natasha, who is still holding her glass of wine, and sipping the red liquid delicately as she observes the two of you. 

“Do you - ” Wanda grabs your chin, making you look at her. “Do you want me?” She asks, and you move to pull her ever closer to you. As if that’s possible.  

“Always.” You nod quickly, and as you kiss the corner of her lips she turns to look at Natasha with the same question. 

“You don’t ever have to worry about that.” You hear Natasha say, but you refuse to stop kissing every single inch of her skin to look. 

“I don’t?” Wanda asks breathlessly, your mouth doing wonders on her neck, while your hands reacquainted themselves with the rest of her body. 

“You don’t.” Natasha says, and she sounds much closer now. Her voice is more sultry than you've ever heard it before, and you pull back, if only to see the look on her face. 

You watch her take Wanda’s outstretched hand as she stands, and pulls Wanda on her feet as well. You swallow with difficulty as you watch her kiss Wanda softly, lips merely ghosting over each other. 

However fleeting the kiss though, you see Wanda’s legs quiver and Natasha’s arm wrapping around her waist to keep her upright. 

“Bedroom?” She asks her with the confidence of someone who already knows the answer, and Wanda nods, as if in a daze. 

You watch them walk away, and you try to calm your racing heart, but it’s difficult when Wanda turns to you from the hallway. 

“You coming?” She asks you, and you’re pretty sure that your brain short circuits. 

You stand up, picking up your unfinished beer, and down it in one go before you nod, and walk towards her. 

“That's what she said.” You stupidly joke, and Natasha rolls her eyes expectedly, but now you see that the edge in her eyes isn’t entirely hate. 

“Incorrigible.” Wanda smiles as she grabs your hand, and pulls enough for you to fall into step next to her. 

“You’re dangerous.” You murmur close to her ear as you wrap your arms around her from behind, and she throws you a side glance, feigning innocence. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” She says, and Natasha chuckles lightly as she unlocks the door to her bedroom. 

“Sure you don’t.” She says as she pulls Wanda in for a demanding kiss, and you close the door behind you. 

Well, you think to yourself, Natasha might actually end up killing you after all, but at least it’ll be pleasurable for the both of you. 

...

[writingfics-passingtime]

hi, can you please write about the reader overthinking decorating a pumpkin and loki threatens to tickle them if they don't start it 🤗🤗

I can still post pumpkin content cause it's still November, right?

Here's a sassy, stoic reader, an absolute teasing menace Loki, and a tender, emotional ending (because I can't help myself).

word count: ~4300

pairing: Loki x female reader

content / warnings: sexual tension, suggestive banter, flirting and touching, tickling, swearing

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a suggestive relationship between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: thank you anon ~ I wasn't going to respond yet because my prompts aren't open, but I've seen a few other writers receive and fulfil this ask, and I've liked seeing what other have done with it. My imagination went a little wild. Thanks for your message x

If anyone has an idea for a title, help a girl out

The room was alive with voices, clinking bottles, and the occasional scrape of a knife against pumpkin flesh. The compound’s main dining hall had been transformed into an unlikely tableau of domesticity. Avengers, gods, and spies bent over their assigned gourds with varying levels of skill and enthusiasm. Stark’s pumpkin already looked like a disaster of glitter and questionable wiring, while Natasha’s had been carved into a clean, menacing grin, a masterpiece of precision.

And then there was you.

Your pumpkin sat pristine and untouched in front of you, its smooth surface mocking your indecision. Brushes, carving tools, and paints were scattered around your space, all conspicuously unused. You held a small knife in your hand, twirling it absently as you stared at the blank canvas.

“Do mortals often find themselves defeated by vegetables, or is this particular weakness unique to you?”

Loki's voice slid over you like velvet, dark and rich, tinged with mockery.

You didn’t look up. “It’s a fruit, actually.”

“Ah,” he drawled, moving closer. “Semantics. How very like you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lean against the edge of the table, his long, lean frame clothed in casual, dark fabrics that clung just enough to remind you that he wasn’t of your world. His sharp blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he surveyed your untouched pumpkin.

“You’ve been staring at it for nearly an hour,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Surely even you can’t find this much to overthink.”

You exhaled sharply, finally meeting his gaze. “Maybe I’m waiting for inspiration.”

“Or perhaps you’re simply afraid to begin.” His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk, the kind that made your pulse stumble. “One wrong cut, one poorly chosen stroke, and the whole thing could be ruined. What a tragic metaphor for your careful, overthought life.”

“Thanks for the analysis, Freud,” you said dryly, turning your attention back to the pumpkin. “Now, if you’re done, I have work to do.”

“Work?” His laugh was quiet, mocking. He moved closer, the faint rustle of his clothing brushing against your senses like a whisper. “Sitting frozen with indecision isn’t work, darling. It’s fear.”

You bristled but kept your voice calm. “If you’re so invested in this pumpkin, why don’t you decorate it yourself?”

“Because I find your quandary far more entertaining.”

He stepped around behind you then, his tall frame casting a shadow over your seat. His presence loomed, a magnetic pull you both resented and couldn’t entirely resist.

“I’ll give you a choice,” he said softly, his voice close now, the faintest trace of his breath against your ear. “Either you begin decorating this ridiculous fruit, or I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

You turned slightly, meeting his eyes over your shoulder. They gleamed with dark amusement, his smirk widening as he caught the way your lips parted involuntarily. “Oh? And how exactly would you do that?”

Loki’s smirk deepened, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. “I could start with this.”

Before you could react, his fingers brushed against your sides, featherlight but enough to send a jolt through you. You stiffened, gripping the edge of the table as his touch lingered, just shy of maddening.

You twisted in your chair to glare at him. “That’s your plan? Tickle me into submission? How original.”

His chuckle was low, dark, a sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “Oh, I think it would be quite effective. And besides,” he murmured, leaning closer, “I suspect you’d secretly enjoy it.”

Your breath caught at the sheer audacity of him, the way his voice dipped into something so sultry, so intimate, that your stomach twisted. “Sounds like you're desperate for an excuse to touch me,” you shot back, your tone sharp despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

He tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more dangerous, more deliberate. “Desperate? No, darling. Just curious.”

His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, as if he could see straight through you to the rapid beat of your heart.

The air between you seemed to thicken, the tension coiling taut as his words hung there, daring you to respond.

Your grip on the table tightened as you forced yourself to meet his eyes, even as heat coiled low in your stomach.

It felt like gripping the steering wheel of a car spinning out, but you snapped the moment.

“You’re not as intimidating as you think you are."

Loki laughed, soft and wicked. “Of course not. And you're the picture of composure, as always."

His hand brushed against yours then, the faintest graze of his fingertips, and you swore the room tilted.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice a low murmur, his eyes locked on yours. “Prove me wrong. Pick up the brush. Start decorating. Show me you're not afraid of a little fun.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it. The weight of his gaze, the dark amusement in his smirk, the sheer magnetic pull of him it was... intoxicating.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, you grabbed the brush. “Fine,” you said, your voice tight as you dipped it into the paint.

Loki straightened, his smirk triumphant but his eyes still glinting with wicked intent. “There’s a good girl,” he said softly, the words like a caress against your ear.

It left you burning long after he’d stepped away.

As you focused on the paint in front of you, doing your best to ignore the heat coursing through your veins, you felt the thrill of his words linger.

The brush hovered over the pumpkin, the orange, unsullied skin glaring up at you like a taunt. Loki had retreated to the far end of the room, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the edge of the table as he spoke with Thor. You knew it was only a matter of time before his attention flickered back to you, the heat of a flame too close for comfort.

You had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm under his gaze any longer.

Sliding the brush down as quietly as possible, you rose from your seat. The soft scrape of your chair legs across the floor was muffled beneath the ambient chatter of the room, and Loki didn’t so much as glance your way. Your pulse quickened as you edged toward the door, heart hammering with every step.

He didn’t follow.

Once you’d slipped into the quiet of the hall, the tension in your chest eased, and you let out a breath you were very aware you'd been holding.

You made your way toward the compound’s library, the solitude of it a welcome balm. The others would still be occupied for at least another hour - enough time for you to lose yourself in the pages of your book and avoid whatever game Loki had been playing that almost made you crack.

The library greeted you with its familiar quiet, the scent of leather sofas and paper a comforting presence. You found your usual spot tucked away in a far corner, a large bay window cushioned with soft pillows overlooking the courtyard. Settling in with a contented sigh, you pulled your book from where you'd wedged it between the seat cushion and the wooden frame.

The story drew you in almost immediately, the tension of moments ago dissolving into the words on the page. The sunlight filtering through the window began softening into twilight, painting the room in hues of amber and shadow.

The quiet here was sacred, untouched by the chaos of the compound. As you turned the last few pages, your chest loosened, the illusion of safety creeping in.

Surely, he hadn’t followed you. Surely, Loki had other things to occupy himself-

Surely not.

“I expected better from you.”

The voice slithered into your ears, so low and sudden that your breath caught in your throat. With all your years of training, you managed to stay frozen. Futile, though. You knew he could see right through it.

You looked up, and there he stood, shadowed and immaculate, his silhouette framed by the dim glow of a single, golden lamp. His icy blue eyes glinted with cruel amusement, his lips curling into a smirk that made your stomach twist.

“How... predictable,” he continued, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. “You flee like a rabbit, thinking you can burrow away from the wolf.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, but you forced yourself turn back your book. “I don’t recall fleeing,” you started, turning a page. “I walked out, actually. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the difference in your old age.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, like distant thunder rolling over jagged peaks. “Ah, there it is. That fire you wear like armour. Does it soothe you to pretend you’re unshakeable?”

You scoffed, even as your pulse betrayed you. “You’re awfully sure of yourself for someone whose only hobby seems to be tormenting me.”

“Torment?” he echoed, his voice silken as he closed more distance between you. “My dear, if I were tormenting you, you’d know it. Shall I demonstrate?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response, instead turning another page of your book. The words blurred before your eyes, but you kept your expression neutral. “If you think I’m going to feed your ego by reacting, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

"Why did you refuse to take part?" There was something unnervingly earnest in his voice that pulled at your heart. "Why did you leave?"

You looked up, wearing a mask of indifference and sarcasm. “I didn’t realise decorating pumpkins was a matter of state importance.”

The smirk tugging at his lips was slow and predatory, dark amusement glinting in his eyes. “Such sharp words, little rabbit. Always so quick with your tongue when your heart’s trying to claw its way out of your chest.”

Your pulse spiked, but you refused to let him see it. Instead, you tilted your head, letting a slow, sardonic smirk curve your lips. “You said you weren't desperate, Loki. But you seem to have taken to taunting me for sport."

The laugh that slipped from him was low and sinuous, curling like smoke through the still air. “Oh, I don’t need sport to occupy me. But you…” He leaned forward, the space between you vanishing in an instant. “You’re far too entertaining to resist. Especially when you’re trembling behind that mask of yours.”

“I’m not trembling.”

“No?” His voice was a purr now, his breath brushing your ear as he lowered himself just enough to meet you at eye level. “I suppose you weren’t squirming earlier, either. Like prey in my hands.”

Your cheeks flared with heat, but you kept your expression neutral. “You sound obsessed.”

“And you sound very ticklish.”

The way he said it - smooth, dark, laced with that damned smirk -sent a ripple of mortification through you. It was all the confirmation you needed of his intentions to follow through on his earlier threat.

It was inevitable.

So you leaned back, lifting your book as if to shield yourself from the weight of his gaze. If you were going down, you were going down swinging. Well, verbally, at least.

“You’re overplaying your hand.”

“Oh, am I?” He stood to his full height, towering over you now, his shadow eclipsing the faint light. “Because the ones who act so tough, so stoic, so unbothered... they’re always the most fun. It’s so very delicious to watch them fall apart.”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night?” You forced your tone into something light, dismissive, though your grip on the book tightened. “That you’ve got me figured out?”

His smirk deepened, his head tilting as he studied you like a puzzle he already knew how to solve. “I don’t need to tell myself anything. You do all the work for me.”

Your lips parted for a retort, but his eyes flickered down to the slight tremor in your fingers, the way your knees shifted restlessly against the cushions.

And you saw how his smile widened, satisfied and predatory, when he saw all the hallmarks of someone about to flee.

“Go ahead,” he murmured, voice dropping to a velvet whisper. “Run. It’ll be more fun for me.”

For a split second, you froze, torn between logic and instinct. Then you bolted, your book tumbling to the seat as you darted for the nearest gap.

But Loki was faster.

You didn't make it two full steps before he caught you with a preternatural ease, his ensnaring hands dragging you back against him in one smooth motion. His low chuckle brushed your ear as he manoeuvred you down onto the window seat, half-pinning you on your side with his arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

“Pitiful,” he drawled, his tone rich with mockery. “And here I thought you’d make it a challenge.”

You shoved at him, scowling. “Let me go, you overgrown-”

Whatever venom you’d prepared was shattered as his fingers pressed into your ribs, curling with precision against the fabric of your sweater. Laughter burst from you, loud and uncontrollable, and you immediately clamped your lips shut, mortified by the sound.

“Ah,” Loki purred, his grin widening. “There it is. That lovely sound you try so hard to keep from the world. Go on, darling. Let me hear it again.”

“Loki, wait- no!” you gasped, but his hands had already found the curve of your waist, his fingers pinching with precision that felt criminal.

“No?” he echoed, mockingly incredulous. “You were so calm a moment ago. What happened?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. His hands slipped beneath the hem of your sweater, squeezing tighter, his nails grazing the bare skin of your sides. You quaked at the contact, laughter spilling out uncontrollably as he found every sensitive spot with uncanny accuracy. Your hands clutched at his forearms, his chuckle hot and tempting against your neck as your head fell back in mirth.

“Tell me the truth,” he said, his voice low and commanding, the words a dark melody against your ear. “Why did you run?”

“I- I...” you wheezed, twisting in his hold, going nowhere. With a ferocious, defiant growl, you yelled, "I... walked!"

Loki paused, his lips curling in that knowing smirk, and then he tickled harder, digging in with precision. You crumpled back against him, laughing helplessly, unable to catch your breath. Every sound that left your mouth was a mix of laughter and helpless gasps, each one a surrender to him, to the unrelenting tickling.

“Let's try again,” Loki commanded, his voice low, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me why you fled.”

You struggled to pull yourself together, trying to come up with another witty retort, but before you could speak, Loki found an especially sensitive spot, just under your ribs, and his fingers locked in with a brutal efficiency. You shrieked, squirming beneath him, but he held you there with the effortless force of a god, his smile widening against the shell of your ear.

You thrashed harder, your laughter raw and breaking, tears welling in your eyes. “I’ll- kill you-”

“You’ll what?” He laughed, low and dark, his fingers picking up speed again, pressing and kneading with wicked precision. Every stroke of his hands felt like it was designed to unravel you, to push you past your limits and then some.

The realisation hit like a blow: he could read you. Every shudder, every hitch in your breath, every twitch of your body. And worse, he was enjoying it, adjusting his touch with the kind of skill that only centuries of mischief could hone. His hands didn’t just tickle; they teased, tormented, mastered you.

"You- oh my g-" you gasped, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "You absolute fucking-"

“Such language,” he chided, his tone a tease of disapproval. “And after I’ve been so gentle.”

His fingers danced lower, teasing the curve of your hips, and the laugh that escaped you was so deep, so raw, it left your chest aching. Loki stilled for half a heartbeat, his grin sharp as he took in the sound, before redoubling his efforts. He pressed his thumbs into the tender space just above your hipbones, his fingers curling to squeeze in a way that had you screaming, your body writhing in his iron grip.

“Okay! Okay!” you gasped, tears of mirth welling in your eyes.

“Speak, then,” he commanded in low and silken voice, his fingers unrelenting. “And don’t lie to me. You won’t like the consequences.”

“I—” You hesitated, your breath hitching, but he gave you no mercy. His nails dragged lightly over your ribs, and the sound that tore from you was half a laugh, half a desperate gasp.

“Speak."

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself!” you finally choked out, your body trembling beneath his. “I didn’t want to make something stupid and have everyone see how bad it is!”

Immediately, his hands stilled, and you gulped in a shuddering breath. He unwrapped his arms from around you and leaned back, his smirk softening into something almost... fond. You shoved at him weakly, as if not quite believing he was retreating.

“Well,” he said, standing and staring down at you, admiring his handiwork, “you’ve certainly made a spectacle of yourself now.”

You glared at him, flushed and breathless. “You... are insufferable.”

“And you,” he countered, his grin returning, “are utterly fascinating. Shall we?”

Before you could protest, he hooked his arms under your knees and around your back, sweeping you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the door. You squirmed in his grasp.

“What the hell are you doing now?”

“Delivering you back to the battlefield,” he said, his smirk a knife’s edge. “You’re not escaping that easily. You’ve still got a pumpkin to ruin, and I, for one, am thoroughly invested in the spectacle.”

You groaned, your head falling back in defeat. "I hate you."

The smirk in his voice was undeniable. "No, you don't."

The dining hall was no longer the lively scene it had been earlier.

Now, it was deserted, shadows stretching long and dark across the room, flickering with the faint light of a few dying candles. The scent of melted wax and pumpkin guts permeated in the air, and the silence was nearly oppressive.

Loki carried you inside, his grip firm but not unkind, and though you didn’t resist, you couldn’t help but feel a smouldering irritation at the way he seemed to enjoy this small victory. When he set you down, his hands lingered at your waist, steadying you, as though daring you to bolt again.

You stepped forward, stopping just shy of your untouched pumpkin. Its smooth, orange surface gleamed in the low light, mocking you. The tools remained where you’d left them, and the weight of your earlier frustration pressed at the edges of your mind.

“I... don’t know what to do with it,” you said finally, turning back to Loki. You hated how the admission sounded - small, almost defeated - but there was no taking it back now.

Loki’s sharp gaze softened imperceptibly. His lips twitched, but the smirk didn’t fully form. “Then I shall help you,” he said, his voice low and smooth, offering no room for argument.

Before you could respond, he sat in your chair with that infuriating ease, his presence commanding even in the simplest of movements. His eyes met yours, glittering with a mixture of challenge and amusement, and he reached out a hand, curling his fingers in a silent demand.

“What are you-” The words barely left your mouth before you realised he was beckoning you to sit on his lap. Heat flushed through you, unbidden, and you scoffed, trying to mask it. “You do realise chairs are meant for one person, don’t you?”

Yet, unwilling to have him see how he was sliding under your skin, you turned and settled yourself against him. His muscled chest brushed against your back, his legs firm and solid as your seat.

“And yet, here we are,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. His hand settled at your waist - an anchor, not a cage. “Now, let’s see if we can salvage your poor, neglected pumpkin.”

You scoffed, grabbing the carving tool. “Fine. Show me your masterful technique, Your Highness.”

The title came out sharper than intended, but Loki only chuckled, low and indulgent. He leaned closer, his shadow engulfing yours, and reached around your shoulder to guide your hand. His fingers slid over yours, his grip firm but not harsh. “Relax,” he murmured. His voice sent a delicious shiver down your spine. “You grip it like a weapon. This is art, not war.”

You bit back a retort and let him guide you. His body was close enough that his every movement brushed against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. Together, you began to carve into the pumpkin, slow and deliberate. His free hand flexed against your waist, your free hand steadying the canvas.

As the shapes emerged, you realised they weren’t ordinary designs. They were runes.

Norse runes. Delicate, intricate, and entirely unreadable to you.

Loki worked with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his hand steady as he traced the lines with your hand.

“What does it say?” you asked eventually, breaking the silence.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck as he murmured, “You’ll see. Keep holding it steady."

The tension between you grew with every passing second. His touch lingered long, his presence close. Every shift of his body beneath yours was impossible to ignore, every brush of his breath against your skin a reminder of just how thin the line between teasing and something real had become.

When the carving was done, you slipped off his lap, feeling the need for a the brief moment of distance for your sanity, and retrieved a candle from the sideboard.

But the room felt colder without him holding you.

You lit the wick and placed the candle inside the pumpkin, watching as the light filled the carved runes, casting jagged shadows across the table.

You turned back to Loki. His expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed on you as though he could see straight through to your very thoughts.

Carefully, you sat back down on his lap, unable to ignore the magnetic pull he seemed to have on you. This time, you sat side-on. His hands settled instinctively, one on your back, one on your knee, holding you steady. With his height, your faces were almost level, but you still had to look ever so slightly up.

“What does it say?” you asked again, your voice quieter now, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile thing had formed between you.

“The name of a great warrior,” he said, his tone mockingly reverent. “Renowned for wit, skill, and unmatched beauty.”

You arched a brow, your lips twitching. “Let me guess. Your name?”

His grin widened, and the silence was answer enough for you.

You rolled your eyes, but a genuine smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yet undeniably fascinating,” he countered, his voice a low purr. His gaze dropped to your lips, and his smirk faltered, replaced with something quieter, more tender. Relieved. "There it is." His words were almost a sigh.

You tilted your head, raising a brow in question.

“I was beginning to fear you didn’t know how to smile.”

The intimacy of his words rendered you speechless for several, long seconds. Your mind faltered, your fingers fidgeting in your lap.

“What? You don't remember what happened like... twenty minutes ago? I recall laughing to the point of tears, thanks to you.”

“That was different,” he said simply, his tone quieter, earnest.

The air between you thickened, heavy with unspoken things. His hand moved in slow, deliberate patterns against your back. “It must be exhausting,” he said after a moment, his voice gentle and laced with something that sounded dangerously close to sympathy. “Always bracing for the next crisis.”

His sudden sincerity caught you off-guard. You fidgeted with your hands, stained with pumpkin pulp, your gaze dropping to your lap. “It’s not like that,” you muttered, though the words felt hollow.

“Isn’t it?” His hand stilled on your back for a moment before continuing its slow, soothing movements. “You are allowed moments of meaningless joy. To partake in frivolity. It doesn’t make you weak.”

A bitter laugh escaped you, soft and humourless. “I take it you didn’t buy that I was embarrassed about the pumpkin?”

He tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Not for a second.”

You looked up, straight into him. "But you let me go."

His gaze fell to your lips, as if he were already missing your smile. Mourning it. Plotting a witty remark or flirtatious comment that might see its return.

He then looked back to your eyes, swallowing harder than usual, his voice now gentle. “I thought you were due for some mercy. You... seem to have very little for yourself.”

The words settled over you like a weight, heavy and undeniable.

And for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

"It feels wrong," you admitted in little over a whisper. "To... do things like this when so many people-" The breath caught in your throat and you had to look back at your hands, sniffing to buy some time. "It's selfish. Carving pumpkins. Decorating. Laughing at stupid things. People are out there suffering, and I’m here playing holiday games. Safe.”

Loki was quiet for a long moment, his hand resuming its slow, deliberate movements along your back. It brought you far more comfort than you'd ever admit out loud. Not yet, at least.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, the usual sharp edges dulled. “You cannot bear the weight of your world every hour of every day. Even the strongest flame falters if it is not tended.”

The rawness of his words cut through your defences. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but your lips twitched as you tried to deflect. “You know,” you muttered, half-laughing as your head dipped, “getting tickled to death felt a lot less exposing than this conversation.”

His chest vibrated with a low chuckle, and when you glanced up, his smirk had returned, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I’m happy to oblige,” he drawled, his fingers curling against you as if preparing to pounce.

You shot him a warning look, though you couldn’t quite keep the corner of your mouth from twitching. “You wouldn't.”

“Oh, wouldn't I?” he teased, his hands still hovering ominously close.

"No," you shook your head, that twitch turning into a smirk. "I sat with you of my own free will. Trusting you. You won't jeopardise that."

The playful glint in his gaze softened slightly as he settled back, studying you with a quiet intensity. "The little rabbit may just be a fox after all," he mused, ceding his advantage.

He studied you for a good, long while, you both sitting in a comfortable silence as he traced idle patterns against your back, his thumb brushing your knee.

Finally, you swallowed your nerves, and broke the silence. "Thank you. For your help.”

You looked back to the table, eyes roaming over what he'd carved with your hand;

The name of a great warrior. He'd said. Renowned for wit, skill, and unmatched beauty.

"Runes are... actually quite beautiful."

He hummed softly in agreement.

You turned your head slightly, eyes still on the sharp lines. "What would my name look like?"

Then, you looked up at his face, and your breath caught.

His eyes were alight, faintly glittering from the flickering candle inside the artwork. Something between a smile and something far more satisfied curled onto his lips as he nodded at the runes.

"Exactly like that."

[writingstoraes]

secret trip 🛫

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: this seemed like a really cute idea so! lmk what u guys think 🤍 requests for charles imagines are open btw! pls send some cause my own ideas r betraying me rn lolol

about: the entire grid seems to be going to italy together, fans can't seem to put the pieces together!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, ferrarifan, wagsf1, and 234,110 others

yourusername with love, italy

isahernaez Have fun, babes ❤️

yourusername wish you were here 😣

wagslove SOOO GORGEOUS

charles_leclerc My beautiful angel

yourusername love you, handsome :D

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, maxverstappen, and 1,334,982 others

charles_leclerc Loving the view a little too much, loving my muse the most.

f1films Charles and Y/N vacationing in Italy is something I never knew I needed

mercgirl I think they're with some of the drivers, check their stories

pierregasly Have the best time 😝

arthurleclerc No picture of me?

charles_leclerc Leave the hotel for once?

carlossainz55 and pierregasly recently added to their instagram stories!

danielricciardo and landonorris recently added to their instagram stories!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, pascale_leclerc, and 345,892 others

yourusername good food, good times, and the best people ❤️

pierregasly Someone pass the salt

carlossainz55 Why did you feel the need to ask that here pierregasly Why do you wanna know? 🙄

charles_leclerc No one told me Max gets wine drunk...

yourusername i say whoever ordered the wine takes care of him danielricciardo That champagne saving me right now 🤣

ferrarihorse I didn't know all of you were all so close omg this is adorable

charlesfearless italy with my loml and friends... now i want that

yourusername and charles_leclerc recently added to their instagram stories!

Trans: Nothing I'd love more than spending a lifetime with you.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, isahernaez, and 501,221 others

yourusername the answer to the million dollar question — why everyone seems to have flown to italy, well it's because today, i married the love of my life who also happens to be my best friend and my answered prayer.

i have had the best time conquering the world with you, my love. from the big romantic moments to the small mundane things, you make life more pleasurable. here's to forever 🥂

tagged: charles_leclerc

charlosfan aaaa an intimate wedding! truly one of the best option, congratulations to my favorite couple <3

yourusername thank you love! it really was nice being surrounded by close friends and family ❤️

scuderiaferrari Best wishes, Y/N and Charles! We still remember your first paddock appearance as a couple; time truly has flown!

charlieferrari I KNEW ITTTT MY FRIEND OWES ME 50 DOLLARS LOL

yourusername hahaha thank you for the faith then 🙏

lewishamilton Congratulations once again, you two! What an honor to be there as you celebrate a new milestone in your life together 🎉

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, arthurleclerc, lewishamilton, and 1,982,221 others

charles_leclerc Exactly five years ago, I could not resist asking for your first name just so I could see you again. Today, you took mine.

J'ai hâte de passer ma vie à t'aimer. I cannot wait to spend my life loving you.

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly Haha you weren't best man carlossainz55

carlossainz55 You weren't either?

maxverstappen Time to bring out the wine 🍷

charles_leclerc No landonorris No danielricciardo With love, no

carlossainz55 Overflowing best wishes, mate! You owe me for actually sending Y/N the text of you wanting to ask her out 😁

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12

notes: believe it or not this prompt has been gathering dust on my notes lol lmk what u guys think! also lmk if anyone wants to be a part of my permanent taglist :)

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 26

Alt Title: Sweater Weather

Prompt: "I can't find it."

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Tags/Warnings: FLUFF, pet names, swearing (it's Ran)

Summary: Ransom's iconic cream sweater mysteriously vanishes...

Word count: 556 words

A/N: Following from day 7's Hoodie Weather - I just couldn't resist haha - Love, Grem x

Prev | Next | Masterlist

"Where is it?" Ransom shouted from upstairs. You'd heard him pottering about but you hadn't cared enough to investigate.

"Where's what?" You called back, not even bothering to look up from your book.

Ransom always lost something, somewhere but only you could ever find it. You knew where everything was or would be - like some mysterious trinket psychic.

"My sweater!" Ransom's voice echoes through the ceiling. There's a slam of a door somewhere and you sigh.

"What sweater?" You frown, trying to focus on the words on the page.

"My favourite one." You can hear the irritation building in his voice and wonder how long it would take for him to pop a vein.

"Not helpful!" You call back again, slipping your bookmark into your book. You'd be summoned in about three seconds to help look for it if you weren't careful. "Have you checked the drawers?"

"Yes!"

"The coat rack?"

"Yes!"

"The closet?"

"YES!" You can hear Ransom stomping down the stairs, huffing in agitation. "I have looked everywhere. I can't find it."

You roll your eyes, you could bet your bottom dollar he hadn't. "Gimme a sec and I'll come help."

You're not even halfway out of your chair when the door to the living room creaks open to reveal Ransom standing in the doorway, glowering at you in a t-shirt.

"You little-" He grits his teeth, and the smile he gives you borders on maniacal. "You're wearing the fucking thing!"

"Oh, this?" You look down at your arms that are swamped in the cosy woven sweater that smelled an awful lot like your boyfriend - and just so happened to look exactly like the one he'd been looking for for the last thirty minutes. "It was on the floor in the bedroom and it just looked so cosy -"

Ransom crosses the floor in record time, towering above you, holding out his hands. "Give. It. Back."

The smile is still in place and you're smiling right back at him. "Say please."

Ransom closes his eyes and you can tell he's trying to count to three. "Please."

You roll your eyes playfully and peel the sweater away, throwing it at his head. You shiver at the loss of warmth but somehow, Ransom's scent clings to your skin. Ransom's too busy tugging the sweater over his head to notice, but when his head pops out of the head-hole, his honey blond hair dishevelled, his face is flushed. You looked good in his sweater and he didn't want to admit it.

"It was cosy," You pout at him, rubbing your arms for warmth.

"I know. That's why it's my favourite." He retorts, crossing his arms across his chest. He's trying to glare but he's finding it difficult to keep up the annoyed act. "I was searching for thirty minutes."

"Sorry," You say innocently, batting your eyelashes at him. He sighs in defeat, settling next to you on the couch and wrapping his arms around you. You smile as you cuddle closer into him, the softness of the sweater and Ransom's heat warming every inch of skin.

"Forgiven." He huffs and then his eyes narrow. "For now."

You place a kiss to his nose. "I'll take what I can get. But maybe... buy me a matching sweater?"

Ransom chuckles, kissing your temple in return. "Absolutely not."

[fuxuannie]

* pairing : wanderer / scaramouche x gender neutral reader

* prompt : bringing you back to his mama <3

* authors note : i promy im still a hsr account but the new quest was so cute i couldnt resist

SCARAMOUCHE holds your hand as you both approach Nahida's sanctuary, as you two climb the stairs, you get cold feet and stop. "Kuni?" You call out for him with a nervous chuckle. "I'm scared."

He turns around a little to look at you, hand still holding his but you're a few steps behind on the stairs. "Don't worry. She knows all about you already. Buer has heard me talk about you long enough and she really likes you." He says with a reassuring tone, following you down to the step you were on and looking you in the eyes. "She loves you, okay? She's waited for a chance to meet you all this time, and you're not about to make the poor Dendro Archon sad, are you?" He joked, which made you giggle a little, easing the tension.

He leads the way upwards, and you follow him with every step he takes. You eventually arrive at the big white door, holding your breath as he opens it. It reveals the inside of Nahida's beautiful sanctuary, with the archon herself in the center with a smile on her face. "Hat guy!" She giggled, running up to the both of you as your nerves were slowly disappearing.

"Hello, Buer." He says with a gentle smile, looking down at her as he feels your hand squeeze his. He turns his head to you, and you don't even realize how inlove you looked when he smiled, you didn't even notice how you squeezed his hand when he did so. "Hm?" You snap out of your daze, realizing he was staring at you, but he turned away and cleared his throat.

"Buer, this is my partner."

And finally, she looks directly at you. In the eyes, for a solid 10 seconds, before immediately sparkling from joy. "I can't believe it! You're exactly how he describes you, and I'm surprised he's got every detail down perfectly!" Nahida chirped, and Scaramouche once again clears his throat in embarassment.

"Hehe.. he talks about me.. that much?" You giggled, turning to him as he looked at the wall, but his red ears were enough of proof that the answer was infact a yes. "I'm glad he's been enjoying his time in Vahumana, but I never thought he'd find a partner!"

"Wait, what??"

"It's truly a pleasure to meet the person that makes him so happy." She then made a gesture that suggested you should lean down, in which you do so for the little Archon. "Don't tell him I said this, but when he talks about you, he could go on for hours. It's very heartwarming for me."

You looked over at Scaramouche, who was still facing the other direction with his arms now crossed because you let go of him. A smile curls up upon your lips, and you thank Nahida for her kindness and it's clear she appreciates you so dearly. As if you were a part of her family now, which she really did consider you to be a part of.

You, had quite literally gotten the approval of an archons son.

[yanderes-galore]

prompts 5, 36, and 38 for the spy please?

(sorry if i alr sent this lmao)

Idk what prompt set you mean so I did mine. Thank you @okchijt as always for helping me :) They've done this plot awhile ago but I never got to it until now. Me and them both struggled on a plot with what we were given so I'm sorry if you don't like it :(

Yandere! Spy Prompts 5, 36, 38

"Manipulation? No, dear, I'm just encouraging you!"

"I'd hate to hurt you but... if you keep this up I might have to."

"My life has been so barren without you...."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Possible OOC Spy, Manipulation, Threats, Death, Mentions of "Respawn Machines", Jealousy, Touchy behavior, Different from my usual fics, Blackmail, You can imagine darling is part of a different team than RED and BLU if you want, Forced relationship.

Your grip on the gun shook as you pointed it towards the enemy Spy. Your teammates were gone, held hostage by a sabotaged respawn machine. It was just you... and the Spy in front of you.

"I suggest you listen, dear." Spy warns, looking at you with a smug expression. "I can easily have your team gotten rid of permanently unless you listen. Those respawn machines are important, we both know that... and they're offline."

"You're lying...." You seethe, gun still aimed for the Spy in front of you.

"Am I?" Spy grins, cigarette in hand. "Would you really want to take the risk and doom your team? I thought you cared for them... unfortunately." Spy grimaces, watching you as you take in his words.

Spy only approaches when he sees you freeze and lower you're weapon. He circles you with a predatory grin as he plucks the weapon from your hand. You watch as he tosses it, settling behind you with his hands on your hips.

"Aren't you tired of fighting?" Spy whispers, leaning into you. "I could easily put an end to all of this unless you comply. You see... I have so much info against you and your team. Hate to have it all leaked, no?"

Spy's smile never falters when he sees your breath hitch. He has you exactly where he wants you. He's been waiting for this moment. He has been pretending to play the part of your team member... only to reveal himself as a traitor.

This was his job, after all... gain information and take out those who resist.

"You know what I'm talking about, dear. It's against the rules to have romantic relations with a team member, is it not? I could tell the higher ups about everything... you wouldn't want that."

Spy chuckles when you freeze, knowing he means the conversations you've been having with your "coworker"... aka Spy. The real coworker you adores was dead and gone. Spy made sure not even a respawn machine could help them.

"You trying to blackmail me?" You answer, squirming when Spy pulls you closer. "Manipulate me into doing... what exactly?"

"Manipulation? No, dear, I'm just encouraging you!" Spy hums. "But with me, you don't have to hold your feelings back anymore. I adored our little chats. We can still make this work... I can even bring back that team of yours if you just give yourself to me, my beloved. Our little secret...."

"Don't mock me!" You yell, breaking out of his grip. You try to pull out your secondary but the Spy is faster due to years of experience. He plucks the weapon out of your hand before tossing it again. You then feel him hold you still, a frown on his face.

"I'd hate to hurt you but... if you keep this up I might have to." Spy sighs, sound hurt. The sudden change surprises you. What scares you about Spy... is the fact you can't read him. Spy chuckles, seeing the gears turning in your eyes.

"We'll be seeing each other a lot more often, won't we?" Spy smiles. "After all... you want this little secret of yours to stay quiet no doubt. In fact... once those respawn machines are up and running again, I'm sure you'll be seeing me tonight, love."

He traces his gloves fingers across your jawline, smiling with half lidded eyes.

"I plan to make you mine tonight, dear... better wear something nice." Spy whispers. "I want you to act like you're mine, after all, I'm turning these machines back on because I love you. Don't forget that."

Spy then lets you go, stepping away as he watches you stare him down. You're terrified, frustrated, but unable to do anything as of now. You're vulnerable and he adores it.

"My life has been so barren without you...." Spy announces with a wave. "I'll never let you leave me now."

With that, he activates his watch and disappears from sight...

Leaving you alone with the consequences of your actions.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

KitKat - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Six of Pedrotober: Dieter Pedrotober hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader

Rating: G for Goodness gracious now I want a KitKat. There is a brief mention of rehab.

Word Count: 1722

a/n: I struggled so hard for so long with what to do for today and then at 11:28PM I was reading and one line in my book somehow turned into this. I truthfully find Dieter incredibly difficult to write because I struggle to fit his plot into context for any fic I attempt, but this is my little version of our favorite trash panda.

Fifteen Years Ago

"Okay, is it more meaningful to you when someone you love puts their arm around you in public or when someone you love surprises you with a gift?"

"I can't believe you're even asking me that," Dieter scoffs from his place on your dorm room floor. You're half hanging off the side of your bed, laptop balanced precariously as you click through the questionnaire. Without any further hesitation, you click someone I love puts their arm around me in public and move down to the next question.

It started when your best friend knocked on your door at nearly two in the morning. His arrival on your doorstep, barefoot with a bottle of wine, was more routine than anything, and always signaled another tragic tale of love. Tonight was no different. Jasper had apparently ditched your best friend in favor of making out with a freshman at the club they frequented. Why, you could never comprehend. Not when Dieter was right there. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

"He told me that I could never understand how to love him. That our love languages aren't compatible." Confusion must have been written into your expression because he continued to answer the question that never left your lips. "Don't ask me what that means because I have no fucking clue."

You'd watched as he grabbed a KitKat from his bag, breaking off a stick to hand to you, but the alcohol clouding your brain had you thinking. "I wonder what my love language is?"

Dieter snorted. "Maybe Jasper would've found you more compatible."

"I don't date actors," you'd fired back, already reaching for your laptop and booting it up. "Maybe I can kick him out of the fall play, though," you pondered as you navigated to an online quiz boasting the ability to determine exactly how you desire to be loved.

"What about this one?" you read off the next question. "Is it more meaningful when you get the chance to 'hang out' with someone you love or when you unexpectedly get small gifts from someone you love?"

"Hanging out, for sure," Dieter responds, uninterested, and you click his answer while mentally responding the opposite. The process continues through the remainder of the thirty questions, you reading off the options and the man lounging on your floor giving you his answers.

"Physical touch," you tell him when the results pop up on your screen. "It says you long for hand-holding and hugs." You say it mostly to goad him, but you can also easily see the truth of it. The paragraph you skim through perfectly describes him.

"I long for a lot more than hugs," he retorts, shifting onto his side. "And with how Jasper was acting tonight I would've guessed that he does too." He pauses for a moment as you tap away on your computer. "You're checking to see what it says for you now, aren't you?"

You catch his gaze out of the corner of your eye and resist the urge to throw a pillow at him. "There's no harm in finding out what it says," you point out, clicking quickly through the questions you've already read once. You're quiet once you finish, sitting up and crossing your legs beneath you as you read the information more carefully.

"What does it say?" Dieter asks as he shifts from his position on the carpet to slide into your tiny dorm room bed next to you, reading the screen from behind your shoulder.

"Receiving gifts," you note. "Apparently the perfect gift makes me feel like I'm prized above whatever was sacrificed to bring the gift to me." It makes sense, the more you think about it. You regularly spend extra time carefully picking out the perfect gift for others, and you were never more excited than on Christmas morning.

The man behind you hums. "It fits, but I still think it's a load of bullshit," he returns before guiding you to shut your laptop. He sets it to the side, lazily sprawling out on your bed as he wraps an arm around your waist to drag you against him.

"Says the man currently attaching himself to me like a baby koala."

"You love it, KitKat," he breathes your nickname sleepily against your neck.

He was right about one thing.

Present Day

The reality that you haven't heard from Dieter in years has done nothing to dull his presence in your mind. You'd gone your separate ways after college, Dieter to LA, eager to jumpstart his acting career. You remained in New York, intent on seeing one of your plays through to Broadway, but in the early days you mostly worked at a diner downtown. When you weren't working, you were writing, sitting at your laptop until well after midnight, typing away in hope that something would stick.

He tried to convince you to join him. He would send you pictures of massive film sets and regale you with tales of Hollywood stars, but you always declined his offer. It was important to you, you explained, to finish what you'd started.

Plus, he was a rising celebrity and you were a failed playwright. The distance you forced between you was the only thing preventing you from dulling his shine. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Then the calls became less frequent. He stopped trying to persuade you. While he flew to London and Hong Kong and Paris, you stayed where you were. If you were lucky, you'd grab coffee or lunch during one of his layovers in New York, but more often than not he was there and gone before you could even try to contact him.

When you started seeing his face in magazines at the store, blasting headlines about his casting in upcoming films, you'd call to congratulate him, only to be forwarded to his assistant instead. Texts would go unanswered, and you started to wonder if you'd made the whole thing up.

So instead of allowing your emotions to consume you, you threw yourself into writing. Tried to get him out of your head and onto the paper in a way that you'd suppressed all this time. You called out of work, ate nothing but ramen, and worked at all hours until you were printing the draft and sending it to the only agent you'd convinced to read it.

And then your life spun out of control.

Your agent thought your play was good, really good, and within months you found yourself watching your reality play out on stage. A producer had seen the value in your story, in the way the leads danced around each other like they'd be together until they weren't. Two lost souls meant not to find each other, but to lose each other instead.

Meanwhile, Dieter was in rehab. You knew it from the clickbait that popped up on your feed each morning. Suggestions of what might be interesting to you constantly thrust his fall from grace into your stream of consciousness. You wondered if this was how it had felt for him. The whiplash of being at the bottom one day and the top the next before careening back again. It made you uneasy, the way you continuously waited for the other shoe to drop.

Then, a KitKat.

You furrowed your brow as your stage manager appeared in front of you with the candy bar, neatly wrapped in a bow. When you asked where it had come from, who it had come from, she shrugged. "I was just told to bring it to you."

There was no shortage of gifts stacked up in the little studio you still called home, but as you stood in the wings of the theater, holding the chocolate, you felt in a way you hadn't in years. You studied it, harder than you probably should have, your fingers tracing across the plastic in search of some kind of hidden message, because after all this time, after everything you'd convinced yourself of, there was only one person who could have sent this to you.

"That's your love language."

His voice is a shock, one that causes you to spin around violently to rest your eyes on his figure, hidden partially by the shadows of the curtain. How he's here you can only guess, but you suppose that it isn't that hard for a Hollywood star to sneak backstage on Broadway. You remain silent as you watch him take a few steps closer. "Gift giving," he continues. "Do you remember what mine is?"

"Your what?" you ask, completely blinded by his presence.

"My love language," he shrugs, as though nothing has happened. Like you're still just two college kids in a dorm room taking a quiz about how you want to be loved.

"Well, it isn't quality time," you quip with a small smile, your brain finally catching up with the realization that he's here in front of you. That this isn't just some dream.

The corners of Dieter's lips angle upward. "No, but I am sorry that I've missed out on a lot of that." His arms flinch as though they itch to wrap around you the way they used to, but he holds himself back. "I'm sorry for all of it, actually."

You tilt your head, "for what?"

"For leaving you behind. For giving up on you when you never gave up on me." He pauses, more contemplative than you've ever seen him. "For giving up on myself."

His words hit you, stirring your emotions as the cast begins to hit the stage, swirling around you both as they find their places for the start of the show. The one you'd written for him. "How do you know I didn't?" you ask quietly.

Dieter nods at the KitKat in your hands, melting under your touch as he takes a step toward you. "Someone kept sending those to me. You wouldn't happen to know why?"

You do, but you shake your head regardless. Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back up to his eyes, a silent signal that you do remember how he wants to be loved. "Did it matter?"

He finally leans in, closing the distance between you, leaving no question as to how he desires to love you. "You always did."

[underthenightskydreamsneverdie]

Tbh I'm horny too and all I can think about if it Seb and MC are 7th years studying for NEWTs in the library/common room with all the other HLCs, MC trying to provoke Seb by giving him looks, purposefully reaching across the table into his space, dropping their quill and bending over, wearing that perfume that drives him crazy, ect, but Seb knows they need to study and pass their test so he resist temptation much to MC's disappointment though unknowingly they unleashed a beast that is being pent up and growing in anger for a couple more days until NEWTs are done.

I love this! I'm not sure if this was a prompt but it inspired me. Thank you 💜

Naughty Escapades and a Wily Temptress

Warnings: 18+, Teasing galore, idiots making a dumb deal, unruly teenagers who can't keep their hands to themselves, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise kink, semi public sex, there are probably more but I can't think of them, oh overuse of my favorite pet name which I'm sure you guys can guess by now Pairing: Sebastian x f!MC Word count: 2659 Thanks to @sallow-tales for help with the name of this fic! 😘

Three days before the start of their NEWTs, Sebastian, MC, and all their friends sat on the floor in a corner of the library, books and parchment spread out around them. They had spent every moment between classes here for the past two weeks, cramming in as much study time as they possibly could. Tensions were high amongst the group, every member aware their futures were hanging on the outcome of these tests. Sebastian was tense for a different reason, though. MC would not stop teasing him. All week she had been doing little things to rile him up, undoubtedly hoping he would give in to his desires and go back on their deal. It had been a spur of the moment idea after their first day of studying had ended with him pulling her away, pinning her up against a bookcase and kissing her neck, grinding himself against her thigh. After he came down from the high of his orgasm, his cock back in his pants, he looked her in the eyes, a pained look in his face. “We can’t do this again until these damn NEWTs are over with, Princess. We need to focus on studying while we’re here. Let’s make a deal, no more sex until we’ve both taken our final NEWT. I can’t believe I’m the one saying this but I think it’s a good idea. What do you say?” She had nodded and kissed him before walking back to gather her things. 

The teasing had started a few days later and just like today, it took every ounce of self restraint he possessed to resist her. More than once today he had found his hand automatically reaching out to slap her ass when she leaned forward on her knees to reach for notes from someone in their little circle. He had been able to stop himself in time, but he knew she wouldn't stop trying. 

He looked down at her head on his shoulder, trying to ignore the way she was purposefully blowing on his neck. This was the closest she had been to him in days and the smell of her perfume left his head spinning. Letting out a soft whimper as her breath hit him just right, a shiver running down his spine, he set his quill down. “Princess, don’t you think you should be studying something other than my freckles right now? If you need a break, go sit with the girls for a while.” She pulled away, pouting as she stood and weaved her way over to Imelda and Poppy, looking over her shoulder at him before hiking her skirt up over her knees, and dropping to the floor, sitting exactly the way she did when kneeling in front of him. Flashes of her lips around his cock, her pretty eyes staring up at him, played in his mind and he shifted around, adjusting himself. 

She’s going to be the death of me. 

An hour later she returned, picking up her books, bending over right in front of him giving him a perfect view of her breasts. Before he could help it a small groan left his lips and she smirked. As she sank to the floor, he reached for her waist pulling her into his lap. The little gasp she let out stoked the fire of resolve in him. He leaned in close, brushing her loose hair off her ear before pressing a small kiss to it. “You think it’s funny, teasing me like this, Princess? You think it’s going to get you what you want?” He gripped her jaw, turning her head to face him. “I assure you it won’t. Not yet.” He lifted her off him, roughly setting her down next to him once again. He took a deep breath, shaking his head to clear it of the already fading feeling of her body on his. He longed for her more than he could express, but he was determined to see this through. 

Okay, you can do this, Sebastian. It’s only another week. Seven days. Just seven more days. 

——————— 

The morning after his final NEWT was over, Sebastian sought her out like a heat-seeking missile, ready to explode. He found her by the edge of the lake with Poppy, Natty, and Imelda, splayed out in the grass, laughing as the sun danced on their faces. He wasted no time, getting her attention with a loud shout of her name, his lips curling into a slight snarl. He knew he probably looked terrifying, out of his mind, racing towards her, his clothes disheveled from running around the castle, but he didn’t care, he was desperate to have her. Dropping to his knees, he sank down between her legs, just barely resisting the urge to throw one over his shoulder right then and there, smiling as he caught a glimpse of her bare pussy, thanking Merlin he’d finally convinced her to stop wearing panties. “I think you owe me something, love, and I’m here to collect.” Around him the other girls gasped and giggled, and he looked up, smiling at them. “Hello, ladies, having a nice day are we?” Not waiting for an answer he leaned over MC and crushed his lips onto hers, groaning as she wrapped her legs around him and deepened their kiss, her hands tangling in his hair and grabbing at his shirt. When she finally released him, a smirk on her face, his resolve to hold out for privacy broke. “Fuck, Princess, I will take you right here in front of your friends if you don’t stop teasing me.” When her grip on his shirt didn't loosen he made a show of reaching for his pants, getting the top button undone before she stopped him. 

“Not here, Sebastian!” She pushed him off her, shaking her head as he roughly pulled her to her feet, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder before turning around and carrying her towards the castle. He felt her wave to her friends, chuckling as they made exaggerated ohs and small whistles, Imelda even shouting “Get it babe!” before they broke into loud laughter again. 

Oh, don't worry she’s going to.  

He carried her to the closest classroom, now empty for the rest of the term, setting her down on the teachers desk before he closed the door. “Get your skirt off, MC, unless you want me to rip it off you.” Standing by the door, he watched as she eagerly slid the fabric over her hips, shifting to push it past her butt, loving the sound as it finally fell in a heap to the floor. Letting out a soft groan, he slipped off his robe. “Spread your legs, Princess, touch yourself for me.” Feeling his heart race as she did, soft moans reaching him as she circled her clit, he forced himself to stay where he was, to enjoy the show she was putting on for him. His cock twitched endlessly as she stuck two fingers into her mouth, sloppily running her tongue over them before bringing them down to her core, slipping them into herself with a loud sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she found the rhythm she wanted. Rubbing his palm over his clothed cock a few times, he closed the distance between them, quickly undoing the rest of his buttons, freeing his cock from its confines. One hand wrapping around himself, stroking slowly, the other hand gripped her jaw pulling her lips to his, greedily forcing them open to admit his tongue. 

When the dizziness from loss of oxygen forced him to break away, he gripped her wrist stilling her movements, gently pulling her fingers out of her core. Once again dropping to his knees in front of her, he took them into his mouth, sucking them clean before wrapping his arms around her legs, pulling her closer to the edge of the desk. Kissing at her thighs, he looked up at her. “Have you missed me, Princess? I sure as hell have missed you.” Flattening his tongue he lapped at her folds, groaning against her as her hands found their way into his hair and she tugged at the soft brown strands. 

“God, yes! I’ve missed you so much, Sebastian…oh that feels so good.”

He swirled his tongue around her clit, gently sucking at it as he pushed a finger into her, pumping his hand quickly. “Fuck, I want to make you cum on my tongue, baby, but we don’t have time for that right now. Someone is bound to hear the beautiful sounds you make for me.” She bucked her hips under him, her strong grip holding his head in place as her thighs closed around him. “Okay, I get the hint, a few more minutes of tasting your delicious pussy it is.” He chuckled as her legs spread open again, returning to his task with renewed enthusiasm. He slurped at her folds, moved his head every which way, used every tick he had to make the minutes count. Looking up at her as he caught his breath, admiring the beauty in the expressions he could get her to make, he heard shouting outside the classroom. They froze as the sound grew louder, accompanied by hurried footsteps, relaxing as whoever it was ran by, the sounds dissipating as they moved further away. The refreshed reality of their situation and realization they could be caught at any moment spurred Sebastian into action. “Fuck, baby that was close, we can’t wait any longer.” He stood up, giving her a quick kiss, sighing as she licked her juices off his lips, taking her hands and gently pulling her off the desk. “Turn around and bend over, I’m going to take you fast and hard, just the way you like.” Caressing the soft skin of her butt as she bent over, he lined up with her slit, quickly pushing into her in one swift motion. Thrusting into her, he groaned at her velvety softness, her walls already twitching around him as he set a quick pace, hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises. As the sweat built on his forehead, their sounds of pleasure drowned out by the slaps of his thighs against hers, he studied her face. Her cheek pressed against the cool surface under her, mouth open letting her soft whimpers escape, her eyes shut tight in bliss. Reaching down he lifted her leg onto the desk, desperate to be deeper inside her, and he hit the deepest part of her, making her groan and clutch uselessly at the smooth wood surface of the desk. “Damn, you look so beautiful right now, MC. I love that you let me see you this way, powerless and falling apart around me. You never look so breathtaking to me, Princess. Okay, maybe when you use Ancient Magic, but that’s different. Then I’m the powerless one falling apart for you.” 

She giggled softly, “Good to know there’s equal opportunity for you in this relationship, Sebby.” He laughed loudly at her joke while increasing the power behind his thrusting, and they fell into a fit of laughter as the heavy wooden desk beneath her suddenly shifted, the leg grinding against the stone floor as it moved. 

“We’re gonna get caught if we stay here much longer, baby. Are you close?” He looked over his shoulder at the door as if expecting someone to walk through it at that exact moment. 

“Did you mean it, Sebastian, would you actually have done it?” 

He whipped his head around, his look of pleasure giving way to one of confusion. “Done what, love?” 

Her voice was soft as she shyly admitted what was on her mind and he had to slow his thrusts to be sure he heard her. “Would you really have…fucked me in front of my friends?” 

He chuckled, stepping back slightly, pulling her off the desk and up to him. Wrapping his arms around her, pressing her back into his chest, he brushed her hair off her neck, lips leaving wet kisses in his wake. “Yes, I would have. Would you have liked that, Princess? Think you could have gotten over the shock of it, forgotten your embarrassment once my cock was inside you?” Resuming his fast pace thrusting, he kissed her jaw as she threw her head back against his shoulder with a loud moan. “Answer me, Princess.” 

“Yes! Yes, I would have loved it! Fuck, I would have loved it so much!” She brought an arm up to wrap around his neck, fingers clutching at his hair. 

“Mmmhm, that’s my girl, my good girl.” Letting go of her hip he moved his hand down to rub slow circles against her clit. “You never did tell me if you were close to cumming, but it doesn’t matter now. I’m going to make you cum on my cock and then I’m going to fill you with my seed, and you’re going to go back out to your friends, giggling as they ask you about what I did to you. I want you to tell them. Tell them what a good slut you are for me. I want you to blush and stumble over your words as you admit you let me cum inside you and that you love the way it feels dripping out of you as they question you.” He felt her walls clench around him, her orgasm about rock through her. “Fuck, you really like that idea don’t you, Princess? You want all your friends to know how naughty you are…That’s it, cum for me, baby.” Panting in her ear, he fucked her through her orgasm, pressing kisses to every inch of her skin he could reach. Burying himself inside her, resting his head on her shoulder, he let out a deep guttural grunt as he reached his climax, ropes of his seed coating her walls as they gently fluttered around him a few final times. 

Sighing happily he pulled her body as close as he could, letting her relax against him. “Gods, you are incredible, baby. I love you.” Pulling out of her, spinning her around he peppered soft kisses over her face, making her giggle as she returned the sentiment. Bending down he picked up her skirt, shaking out the rumpled fabric, holding her steady as she stepped into it, and slowly pulled it up her legs. Fluffing up her hair, dislodging the flyaways stuck to her damp forehead, and tucking in her shirt, he gave her a deep kiss. Stepping back and tucking his cock back into his pants, he ran his eyes over her as she smiled innocently at him. “There, now you can’t even tell you just spent the last hour being a dirty little slut. Are you ready to get back to your friends, Princess? Ready to tell them all the things I did to you and how much you loved it? Honestly, I’ll be disappointed if they don’t give me nasty looks next time I see them.” Laughing, he took her hand, slowly opening the door, peeking out before pulling her into the corridor. Running through the castle, laughing at her little screams as he pretended to chase her, picking her up and spinning her around when he ‘caught’ her. As they burst through the doors that would lead them to the lake, he slung his arm around her neck, pulling her close. “I can’t believe we only have a little time left here. I’m going to spend every free moment we have left burying my cock in you, Princess. But for now, go spend time with your friends.” He kissed her cheek and gave her ass a small slap, smiling happily as he watched her head for her friends.

[divinemissem13]

Doctor's Orders

No True Pair 8 Character Challenge Fandoms: Star Trek TNG, Major Crimes Pair: Beverly Crusher/ Sharon Raydor Word Count: 378 Rated: T Prompt: long weekend

Beverly is already in bed when Sharon gets home. She looks up from her book and takes in the sight of the captain — dark circles under her eyes, uncharacteristically disheveled clothes, flat hair — and she makes a decision.

"Did you close the case?"

Sharon responds with a wordless hum and a nod as she shrugs out of her blazer and toes off her shoes.

"Good. Then you're taking tomorrow off," Beverly declares. "Doctor's orders," she adds, firmly squashing the protests blooming on Sharon's lips.

Sharon finishes getting ready for bed and slides under the covers. She is almost too tired to be coherent, but she tries anyway. She kisses Beverly's bare shoulder and speaks for the first time since arriving home. "Honey, I can't. There's paperwork to do and what if-"

"You're telling me that Provenza has been on the force for 100 years but he can't handle a little paperwork?" Beverly teases, even eliciting a weak smile from Sharon. Beverly smiles back and turns to face the captain. She brushes the dark auburn hair behind Sharon's ear and then gently strokes her face, soothing away the worry lines that have become a near-permanent fixture lately. "They'll be fine. It's you I'm worried about. Let's take a trip — just for the weekend. Forget about dead bodies and the dregs of society for three days and then on Monday you can go back to work and resume your superhero duties."

Green eyes meet blue as Sharon tries to assess whether or not Beverly might be willing to negotiate, but the doctor is harder to crack than most criminals. "OK," she finally acquiesces with a sigh, and when Beverly smiles brightly, Sharon can't resist smiling back.

So they take the weekend and drive up the coast, and they stay in a little seaside Bed and Breakfast that serves incredible homemade scones, and they make love with the windows open, smelling the salty air and listening to the soothing sounds of the ocean. On Sunday afternoon as they drive back to LA, Sharon has to admit that riding in the convertible with the top down, the ocean breeze blowing through her hair and Beverly's hand resting on her knee as they talk about anything but murders is exactly what the doctor ordered.

[paigemathews]

The ask prompts ask number who knows what I’ve already lost count:

victor and henry sr bonding as mortals in a magical family

Pairing: Victor Bennett & Henry Mitchell

Background Pairing: Paige Matthews/Henry Mitchell, Victor Bennett & Paige Matthews

Walking into the living room, Victor immediately realized what the problem was. Henry had his face buried in his hands and was perfectly still, a posture that Victor more than recognized from his early years.

Settling into the armchair opposite of his son-in-law, Victor waited. Henry finally looked up, something wild in his eyes.

"I traveled to the future."

Okay, so that one wasn't exactly in Victor's expertise. He'd seen the effects of time travel a few times: a time loop tormenting his daughter, his grandson making a desperate bid to save his family and world, and even his dead ex-wife visiting him. He'd never once gotten caught in any of that himself, however, which was probably preferable. While his daughters and grandchildren had (would?) knew the dangers of meddling in time, Victor had a list of regrets that he knew he'd never be able to resist fixing if given the opportunity. Being there for his daughters. Sparing them the trauma of demons preying on their trust and betraying them. Finding Paige two decades earlier. Saving Patty and Prue from dying so young.

Unaware of Victor's thoughts, Henry continued, "Paige and I were talking about raising kids with magic, and Wyatt-"

"Sent you to the future to see what it'd be like," Victor finished. Piper had warned him about being careful what he said in front of his oldest grandson until Wyatt was old enough to better understand his powers. He hadn't gotten the full details of the problems that'd caused, but he knew it'd happened more than once.

Henry nodded and rasped out, "We had twins. Charlotte and Penny. One of them moved all of our living furniture with her mind. The other one accidentally cheated on her science test by seeing the answers in a vision."

Henry buried his face in his hands again and mumbled, "I don't know how to do this."

Victor shuffled over and patted Henry on the back. "Magic is... not easy to deal with. You'll never fully understand it and never fully be a part of this world. Some people can handle that. Some people can't."

If he'd known before he'd married Patty, he doesn't know if he'd had gone through with it. Magic was... terrifying. He had no way of protecting his family, could only watch and hope that they'd be able to save themselves. But life without his girls, even with magic, was one that he didn't want to imagine.

"I love Paige," Henry argued, lifting his head. "It's not just the magic. I'm not- I grew up in the system, I don't-"

That was something that he had more experience with. Well. More of a "what not to do" type of experience. "Parenting is hard. Parenting witches is even harder, especially as a mortal. Now, I didn't do that great of a job of it, but you're not the person I was. More than anything, the thing is being there. You'll make mistakes. There's no getting around it, but being there and trying to fix them are the most important part of being a parent. And from what my girls have told me, including Paige, you're not the type to run when it gets hard, Henry."

Henry had a faint smile as he met Victor's gaze. "Not when it comes to Paige. I love her."

"Is that so?" Paige leaned against the doorway as both men turned to look at her. She smiled, eyes soft. "Good thing I love you, too."

She held her hand out to her husband. "Wyatt wanted to apologize for the magical journey, and I think Phoebe wanted to pry some future information out of you."

Henry rose and took her head with a wry shake of his head. "I don't know if that's how it works."

"I'll distract her for you two," Victor promised. He needed to go find his third daughter anyways, find out about this Coop fellow.

[elliemarchetti]

Tamlin Week Day 5

I know this isn't exactly the type of content you would expect from me for the prompt shapeshifter of @tamlinweek, but as soon as I saw this coloring page by @thrumugnyr I couldn't resist the urge to open Paint and give myself a hour break to colour it like I used to do back when computers were not that accessible and made the sounds of an aerospace engine. I know it's not perfect, and that there will be at least a million people far more talented than me who will make this wonderful drawing into a true masterpiece, but you can't understand how grateful I am for the childlike joy you gave me, so I thought I'd share the result along with a short scene it inspired

Plot: War is only a distant memory, the Spring Court has returned to its former glory, and Tamlin is finally coming back to understand what it means to be loved.

Pairing: Tamlin x Elain x Lucien if you want to see it that way, just Elucien if you're not into throuples. Obviously, it's Tamlin centric.

Words: 444

Tamlin was dozing in the shade of a wisteria-covered gazebo, his large paws resting under his snout like a pillow, when he heard a disturbance in the silence of a lazy, clear afternoon. Elain must’ve noticed it too, her legs tensing a little on his side, but her delicate hands kept stroking the golden fur on his spine, the area she was preparing to be adorned with little, bright pink daphne flowers. It was one of her favourite pastimes, when he was in his beast form, to cover him in colourful arrangements.

“To make you less scary,” she had said when he confronted her after the second or third time it happened. “More approachable for the children.”

Tamlin was nearly sure it was an innocent lie to safe face, but he didn't mind the attention, or all those younglings hanging on his property, looking for advice about horse-riding, gardening, and love matters, therefore he had no intention of pressing the matter to obtain a more exhaustive answer. He didn't want to frighten her, or see her return to her sisters after the less than amicable departure from the Night Court that gave him a pretext to rebuild his friendship with Lucien. Against all odds, his best friend’s mate, the sister of the one who had broken his heart and robbed him of his subjects’ trust, had been a pleasant addition at the Manor; where Feyre was stubborn and immovable, Elain was affable and ready for constructive confrontations, and on those same occasions in which the youngest Archeron would’ve withdrawn into herself and put on a defensive attitude, the middle one had been able to remain objective and even help him.

“Have you really been lounging around here all this time?” Lucien asked, cheerfully, once he was within their field of vision. Tamlin sat up lazily, showing a hint of fangs at the emissary, a tacit warning not to interrupt the sacredness of their bonding.

“What do you think, did I exaggerate on the antlers?” Elain asked, nodding toward the intricate ivy wreath she had wrapped around the entire lenght.

“I think they’re gorgeous,” he replied, finally allowed to be soft and careless, before giving her a light kiss on the temple and dropping behind her, the back Tamlin had once been forced to whip resting on his side.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he added as he made himself comfortable, sinking down until his head was on the beast’s belly, like they used to sit in the meadow when he first came from Autumn, when Elain turned to shot him a questioning look. “I just wanted to spend some time with my favourite people.”

[hart-feathers]

Fic Snippet

Current WIP

Title : Rendezvous

Pairing : Will Graham/Frederick Chilton

This fic will be a fill for one of my bingo prompts - '1x06 Entrée'

-

I have given Frederick the nickname 'Eric'.

I ruled out Fred/Freddie because of the association to Freddie Lounds. My mum's boyfriend is named Rick so any variations of that was out. The only other ones I liked were Red or Eric, and I preferred Eric.

~~~~

The quiet click of the door closing announces Alana's departure, leaving Will alone with Frederick Chilton, a layer of tension seems to evaporate and he relaxes a little. He rolls his shoulders and eyes the other man in the room.

Frederick stares back at him and Will can see the smile tugging the corners of his mouth, begging to be set free. "Well, Mr Graham, alone at last. How ever will we pass the time?"

"Do you have to be such a brat?"

He simply smiles, smug and not at all repentant, and answers. "I don't know what you mean, Will."

Will levels him with an unimpressed stare. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

He smiles widely, "Can you blame me? This is the first time we've interacted in a professional setting and it's very interesting to see you like this."

Will pinches the bridge of his nose, "Did you have to be so antagonistic with Jack yesterday?"

"How did that make you feel?"

"Eric…" Will groans.

Frederick beams at the familiar nickname, a name that only Will calls him. It had been a surprise the first time Will uttered it, an entirely unfamiliar name and for a moment Frederick thought to be quite put out that Will may be thinking of another while fucking him. When he asked, Will tripped over his own words and explained well, I'm not exactly going to call you Freddie, am I?, which he conceded with a nod. He knew Will never liked Freddie Lounds' brand of journalism, which has only been exacerbated in recent weeks, and he didn't want to think about the woman while naked, however unintentionally.

"That's Dr Chilton, Mr Graham, this is my place of work." he says cheekily.

Will just rolls his eyes but can't help the quirk of his lips, unable to resist the teasing. "That may be, but we're alone now and I can call you whatever I want, sweetie."

[starl1t-vo1d]

What these gifts mean

Revalink prompt, don't blame yourself / paraglider - general rating

---------------------------

I struggled with the title for this which is funny because the title for the multichapter fic is hidden in here somewhere as well as a less hidden meme. Story under read more and more detailed tags on a03.

Link was hiding something, Revali didn't know what -yet- but he was hiding something. Revali did not appreciate things being kept from him. His brother had been the last one to try, hiding an injury that admittedly Revali had been very upset about when he found out who had inflicted it which is why the hiding attempt was made. Link didn't seem injured though, and if he was and it was serious surely the Princess would send him to bed rest. So it wasn't an injury but Link was hiding something. The issue was that he had tried very hard to get to the point he was with the knight and brute forcing Link to tell him what he was hiding didn't seem like a good idea. 

Of course, he didn't even know exactly where he stood with Link. Revali thought that he had understood his gift being one of courtship but perhaps he should have explained Rito customs first. Link and the Princess had left the next day after Revali had given Link the paraglider. Revali didn't send a letter, he wasn't going to wax poetic if Link hadn't understood and embarrassed himself. 

But now about a week later Link and the Princess were visiting again and while Link had certainly greeted him very nicely the Hylian hadn't said much else in the presence of Zelda except to ask if they could meet later while she was distracted briefly. As Revali showed the pair around Vah Medoh talking about new things he had discovered he tried to get a read on Link. Link however seemed very determined to not make eye contact with the Rito and he held the bag that he had strapped across his shoulder very tightly. 

Link had something in that bag that he was… nervous about? That was Revali’s best guess but when he offhandedly asked while Zelda was studying the main console Link just shook his head very quickly and tucked it closer to himself. 

In conclusion, Link was hiding something. And it was driving Revali up the wall as he thought through what it might be. Revali paced the landing of the Flight Range muttering to himself as he waited for Link to join him. When he finally spotted the Hylian crunching through the snow towards the ladder he took to the air dropping down beside him. 

"Impolite of you to keep me waiting," he greeted, eyeing the bag that Link still had with him. 

"Sorry, Zelda wanted to figure out where we were headed next so we can send word first."

"Excusable, when are you leaving?" Revali resisted the urge to frown, they had just gotten here.

"Not for a while, maybe in a week." Link shrugged, then clambered up the ladder. Notably, he didn't place the bag down as he crouched next to the fire.

Revali sat across from him studying Link for any sort of clue as to what was in the bag. The silence stretched on far longer than he could tolerate though, even with an archer's patience. 

"Show me what you have," he finally demanded.

And Link, the stupid stupid, silly, idiotic, charming, handsome-

Link starts to reach for the Master sword upon his back with a playful grin. 

"No!" Revali squawked, making Link laugh.

And as musical and great as Link's laugh is, Revali only groans. "You know that's not what I'm asking about!" 

Still laughing, Link pulls the bag into his lap holding it so that Revali can't see into it. "Close your eyes." He signs before rummaging through it. 

Revali narrows his eyes but does as told, shutting them. He listened to Link get up and walk around the fire to stand behind him. There's a gentle tug on one of his braids and he feels Link unwind it partially then re-tie it and let it go. Revali blinks his eyes open and reaches a wing behind him to bring the braid forward. There's a jewel wound in -topaz if he's correct- and he looks to Link. 

"I'm sorry that it took a bit to make, I would have written a letter but… I think telling people you're getting them a gift sorta defeats the purpose you know?" Link's signs are a bit shaky as though he's nervous.

Revali looks back to the gem, "Thank you, I will admit I was a bit unsure if you had understood the meaning of the paraglider but I am glad you did." 

Revali nearly misses the wince when he looks back to Link and he cocks his head to the side. "So this is what you've been hiding then?" He asks because he realizes that Link is still wearing the bag. 

"About the paraglider…" Link signs and Revali freezes.

Had he been mistaken after all? Had the gem simply been a gift in return and Link didn't actually understand Revali's intention? Revali watches as Link opens the bag and pulls out the paraglider.

Well, most of it.

Link reaches back in and pulls out the left handle that is very much not meant to be detached from the main body. The Hylian quickly sets the pieces on the ground to free his hands.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to break it and I do understand what it was a gift of but I was practicing with it and accidentally crashed into a tree and then landed on it and I heard it snap before I felt that it did and I'm sorry-" Link's signs sped up as he rambled on only pausing when Revali picked up the broken paraglider examining it.

"It's okay, don't blame yourself if it was just an accident." Revali set the pieces aside and gently pulled Link to sit next to him. "Yes, it's really alright before you insist that it's not. I can repair it okay?" 

Link nodded and finally removed the bag from his shoulder, placing it aside. "You aren't upset?"

"I know I am not the nicest of people but I do know how to forgive accidents. It's not as though you came here and threw it at my feet."

"I would never."

"Exactly, I'll fix it tomorrow, okay? And then you can practice with it while I'm around to keep you from crashing into any trees." Revali laughed, "How did you manage that by the way?"

"It's actually a really funny story," Link settled against Revali as he started to tell it. 

Revali wrapped a wing around him, smiling contently. 

[residentdormouse]

Make Note of those Nifty ‘N’ Words

Now knowing there's a necessity to narrow the given narratives, I may neurotically nitpick my selections less I become negligent about neutralizing all nonchalant news of upcoming nonsense. (insert River Song here) No need to nullify natural nuance that builds in later narration unless necessary. Maybe it's all for naught? A bit naive? Or maybe just narcissistic? Nevertheless, I will try and note only needed sections and limit the numerous spoilers regarding the gang and their notorious nightmare man.

(Also honored that you started reading this absurdity, @mrsmungus. I hope it doesn't disappoint!)

My Words: Name, Needless, Nasty, Nausea, Notice

Your Words: Outrage/Outrageous, Offer, Offend, Obey, Objective

As always, if you think it looks fun, don’t hesitate to throw up an ‘@’ and throw up your ‘O’ words!

Name

By evening, Hayden found herself back by the fire with Glen sitting next to her. Harold's music had now been replaced with his, and the vape pen passed back and forth, shared between the two.

"So you really think we just drop this? No more attempts?"

"You didn't see what happened, Hayden."

Using her chosen name always threw her for a bit. Giggles was her name to him, and she loved it. Hayden was formal, reserved for more serious matters. A warning label that implied, ‘do not follow with snark.’

"What happened there, can’t say it was normal, and--"

"Which is why I don't think we should treat this like it’s normal! There's no hard science researching this, Glen. Uncharted waters here on out.  Think we need to explore every--"

"Correct me if I'm wrong here Giggles, but you can't very well explore if you're dead.”

Needless

(This is only used twice between both stories. And I’ve also used both of these before - Another fail. At least I could go back a little further with this one, so its not all a repeat.)

"How much of this did Glen rehearse with you?"

The offense at the questions was taken immediately, and she made a note of just how little prompting it took to wind Lloyd up. “Hey! I am capable–”

"It's not commentary on you as much as observation of him, I promise.” She didn’t feel the urge to needlessly work him up; the fact that he was here now showed he cared in his own way. But she could see when a script was given, and Glen’s direction was shining through. “You can't tell me I'm wrong, though, can you?"

“The two of you are fuckin’ stupid for each other, you know that?!”

That got a smile from her. She wished that she knew exactly how he was aware of this fact. What they had done to warrant it. Examples. Stories. Memories she should have. But the lack of information on her end did not alter the truth in his statement, and she did not doubt he meant what he said.

Nasty

(Pretty far into Diving, but the rest were really bad on the spoiler deal.)

"Drink? I'd recommend the Macallan, it has aged quite well."

For as much as Max tried to make it seem otherwise, she knew very little about the woman in front of her first hand. And from what she could gather, not many did. Deliberate measures for sure, couldn't be anything else at this point. Her reputation preceded her, though, and Max knew there was no way to be around as long as her, get as high up on the ladder, without having some nasty business in your past.

The logic was enough for Max to justify retaining a resistant stance, despite Quinn's now questionable judgment.

"Little rich for my blood. But speaking of..."

There was no more to her sentence, it already served the intended purpose.

A polite laugh resounded while Gwen turned to mix something for herself. A carafe of dark red mixed with the translucent brown in an exquisitely crafted glass. An object made specifically for her no doubt.

"It pairs very well with A positive, I must say. O negative would do in a pinch. But if you're going to break into the good stuff, why tarnish it with an inadequate mixer?" From her peripherals, Max could see Harold stiffen at the open admission, and with how rigid he was to begin with, she could barely believe this was possible. “Perfectly fine in a glass, of course. No need for extracurriculars. Unless one would be into that type of thing.”

Nausea

With a small step, Fran stood to the side allowing her entry into the home. “Thank you for coming over. I wasn’t sure who else to ask.”

“Yeah, absolutely!”

It was then she noticed quite a few boxes stacked on the side of the porch. Susan grabbed the top two, and began to head to the living room. The post Fran held at the side of the door now relieved, she made her way forward towards the stack of items. Two steps forward and she was cut off with a very loud throat clear.

“Uh, I think not. You. Sit down over there. I got this.”

Fran didn’t need to be told twice. She was nearing the end of the pregnancy, and everything ached. Her feet and legs were swollen and screaming in pain at her. Random kicks to her kidneys would have her crying out at odd points in conversations. And the nausea… The plain cereal she just forced down was threatening to come up at the thought alone.

She let out a deep breath and relaxed into the couch. “I seriously can’t thank you enough. Wasn’t sure what I was going to do without Stu here–”

Notice

"Oh! Oh. No…it's not like that. Not that I wouldn’t… its just...” 

She didn’t expect campfire confessionals to be turned on her, especially on something she hadn't even fully admitted to herself. Of course Glen was a great guy. She’d be a damn liar if she said she didn’t think about him when he wasn’t there, that she didn’t feel a calming grounded energy around him. There was something more about him… a good nature and levity. He was funny, and... 

'Shit..’

She took a deep breath, reigning in the flustered energy. 

"Ok. Well played. Tables sufficiently turned.”

But if Fran had picked up on this… 

“...am I that obvious?"

She laughed, "No, you’re fine. I just thought I noticed a connection there as well, but I wasn't sure." Just as contagious as Glen’s, her laugh shifted the atmosphere to a more favorable one.

[lost-between-letters]

Focus and Boredom

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader (she/her)

Word Count: 688

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/N was bored, Sam was focused and Dean wanted to learn new moves. a completely normal day at the bunker

A/N: the prompt this is inspired by is from a prompt list from the lovely @creativepromptfills . Unfortunately I can't locate the exact list right now but they're all worth being checked out!

There was something serene about Sam when he was buried in research. His hands were lying mostly still on a few pieces of paper or the occasional book while his eyes were glued to the laptop screen. The picture moved every few minutes when he marked something down or scrolled upwards.

Sam could spend hours like that, oblivious to the world and the people in it - as long as his findings weren't important for critical life or death situations that was. Then, he was always on alert, jumped at the slightest of sound even if it was Y/N or Dean entering the room.

Right now, it was not a situation like that. They had been lying low for a few days now, a self acclaimed break that Cas of all people had declared after Dean had nearly been shot by another hunter. It was a long story.

However, Sam was always on the hunt for more information and he enjoyed it. Especially if the bunker provided him with a never ceasing stream of new phenomena to read about.

So Y/N felt only a little guilty when she plopped down on the seat across from him and swung her legs over the side of the chair. "What would you say if I told you that I will start teaching Dean jiu jitsu if I can't go to the bookstore to get the next book in my series?"

"I would call that an attempt to blackmail me." Sam said without looking up and turned the page. "Dean won't survive a second with you as a teacher."

Y/N sputtered. "Rude."

Only then, Sam looked up. And revealed a stony expression that he always put on when he was trying really hard not to laugh. It failed miserably as the corners of his mouth were pulling upwards. "But the truth."

"Still rude," she retaliated and swung her legs.

Sam's eyes followed them before he sighed. He put a pencil square across the papers and got up.

Y/N watched him grab his jacket from the back of the chair, chin propped up on her hands.

"You coming?" Sam turned around, one eyebrow raised at her.

"Only if you tell me where we're going." Contradicting her words, Y/N was already getting up. As if she would turn down Sam when he just abandoned his research for her.

"To the bookstore." Sam rolled his eyes, aiming for annoyed but he got stuck at fondness. He stretched his hand out towards her. "I like my brother in one piece."

Laughing, she took it. "Good choice."

Instead of interlocking their fingers though, Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed her into his side. Y/N squealed as he ruffled her hair.

"Little miss trouble," Sam said affectionately and kissed the top of her newly askew hair.

"And you love it."

A long suffering sigh that Y/N would never be able to take seriously. "Unfortunately I do."

Bonus:

I couldn't resist

"C'mon it can't be that bad." Dean wasn't exactly begging but he was close.

With an indulgent eye roll, Y/N agreed. "Fine. But you're taking full responsibility for any injuries."

"Sure whatever," Dean huffed and positioned his feet. There was no way that Y/N could overpower him that easily, he had been on the run from crazy people and the horrors that lurked in your nightmares for most of his life.

They were in Y/N's bed room, the furniture shoved to the side to create a make shift training area, the plush carpet supposed to absorb at least a little bit of the pain of being slammed to the ground.

Which happened to Dean just now. Y/N had thrown him over her shoulder without even breaking a sweat.

The hunter stared up at her incredulously. "How did you do that?"

"Told ya she'll have you on the ground in seconds." Sam had materialised out of thin air and was now leaning in the doorway. Watching his brother get his ass handed to him.

For all that he had protested Y/N earlier, he seemed to be enjoying this thoroughly.

"Show me again," Dean demanded.

So Y/N did.

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