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wzrd-wheezes · 11 months

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Riled up. remus lupin x reader

I got it, Remus and reader fighting because she’s complaining about something and he’s in a mood because the full moon is soon and he’s all riled up about it, end it with either smut or fluff I don’t mind either ;)

AN - no this is the smuttiest thing I've ever written so I hope this is okay and not too filthy jsjjfjs. If there's one thing about me.. if ur gonna give me the option to end it with fluff or smut - im gonna end it with smut every time.

1.5k

Warnings: kinda toxic!remus like hes just a bit of a prick in this, n this is not a good example of a good relationship. a whole load of sex, daddy kink, choking, smoking and the like. as always minors dni and wrap it before you tap it. Enjoy!

“Remus, you know I hate it when you smoke like that.” Y/N said, looking over to her boyfriend that was chain smoking cigarettes on the balcony of their apartment.

“And I hate it when you nag at me about it, love.” he replied, tapping ash into the ashtray next to him, “yet, you continue to do it.”

“I’m just worried about you. There’s no need to jump down my throat about it.” she scowled, turning around and taking a large sip from her coffee.

“God forbid I want to do something that calms me down when the full moon is soon,” he stubbed his cigarette out harshly, as if to make a point, the glass ashtray rattling against the table with the sheer force of it.

“Oh, grow up, Remus,” Y/N spat, the grip on her mug tightening as she spoke, “You act like you’re still a fucking teenager sometimes.” She walked over to the kitchen and slammed her mug down on the counter. She hated it when he got like this. The days leading up to the full moon made Remus impossible. He was constantly tired and grumpy. He didn’t have a great temper at the best of times but the full moon only heightened it. It also didn’t help that Remus not sleeping meant that Y/N hadn’t been sleeping, resulting in them both being extremely irritable.

She heard his footsteps approaching the kitchen and swiftly made an exit, shutting herself in their bedroom.

“You can’t avoid me all day, darling.” he called out. Even though she couldn’t see him, she just knew that he had that cocky grin on his face. The one that made her feel weak at the knees. The same grin that Remus knew could get him out of anything. They could be arguing and he would flash her that smile and it was as if she couldn’t be mad at him anymore. It infuriated her that he knew exactly how to get her. Y/N sighed, knowing that he was right and opened the door.

Remus was stood on the other side, leaning against the doorframe, cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“See? I knew it wouldn’t take you long to come around,” he grinned.

“It’s like you’re purposefully trying to wind me up today. I fucking hate it when you smoke inside,” she sneered, “and you can wipe that fucking grin off your face as well.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby.” he smirked, leaning back against the wall and taking a drag of his cigarette. “You’re getting all upset over nothin-.”

He didn’t even have chance to finish his sentence before Y/N had stormed off. She made it all of five steps before Remus swiftly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me when I’m talking to you.”

“Talking?” she let out a laugh, “You’re such a condescending prick sometimes, you know that?”

“And you’re a whiny, little, brat sometimes.” he barked, his voice significantly louder now.

“Fuck you.”

As fast as lightning Remus had flipped them round so that Y/N’s back was pressed against the wall. Remus had one had above her head, bracing himself on the wall as he towered over her. The grin that was plastered on his face had disappeared. His jaw was clenched and his lips were pressed into a line.

“You need to watch your fucking mouth before I have to do something about it,” he said roughly, his fingers tangling in her hair.

“Oh, really?” she retorted, “what are you gonna do about it?”

Just as quickly as he did before, he flipped them back around and roughly shoved her down on to her knees. Y/N let out a gasp as her knees hit the floor and she looked up at her boyfriend.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Remus goaded, the infamous smirk back on his face.

“Not at all,” Y/N smirked back at him, reaching up to unzip his jeans. Remus smiled down at her as he leaned against the wall. Y/N took his dick out and eagerly put it in her mouth.

“Atta girl,” Remus grumbled, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it, “Look so pretty down there with my cock in your mouth.”

He took a drag of his cigarette while she sucked him off, lazily grabbing a handful of her hair to keep her in place. Letting out a groan, he leaned his head back against the wall, cigarette hanging from his lips as her began fucking her mouth.

“That’s it, baby. Can’t whine with my cock in your mouth, can you?” he chuckled darkly, “Jus’ what little brats like you need, isn’t it?”

Y/N looked up at him, tears streaming from her eyes. Remus pulled himself out of her mouth. Her lips were swollen and drool was running down her chin.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” Remus whined, “Gonna be a good girl and let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours, yeah?”

“Remus, pleas-”

“S’not my name, baby.”

“Please, daddy.” she whined

He smiled down at her smugly and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her into the bedroom. He threw her roughly on the bed, and she scrambled to remove her clothes, throwing them in a heap on the floor. Remus followed suit, his belt dropping to the floor with a clatter as he threw his jeans down. Y/N was spread out on the bed, looking at him needily as he stood over her. Remus dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, grabbing her ankles and dragging her down the bed roughly so that her core was level with his face.

“Dripping already, baby?” he mused, “Haven’t even touched you yet. If I knew you’d get this turned on just from sucking my cock, I’d have you do it more often.”

“Can you stop being a cocky little shit and just fuck me already,” Y/N moaned.

Remus looked at her, grin instantly disappearing from his face.

“You just don’t learn, do you?” he snapped, “always have to be such a brat.”

Pulling her underwear to the side, he plunged two fingers inside of her, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. If there was one thing about Remus, it was that he knew exactly what to do to get his girlfriend going. He knew exactly how to make her tick and he prided himself on the fact that he could bring her to the edge in a matter of minutes. He licked at her clit as he pumped his fingers inside of her, smirking against her as he listened to her moans.

“Please, daddy, I’m close, I’m-”

He withdrew his fingers abruptly, wiping them on her thigh. Y/N let out a loud gasp.

“You fucking dick.” she groaned.

“Watch your fucking mouth. I won’t tell you again.”

“I just need yo-”

He cut her off, quickly removing her panties and shoving them in her mouth. Y/N whined in protest, her eyes widening in shock.

“I won’t tell you again. You better keep those in that pretty mouth until I tell you to take them out, understand?” she nodded in response.

“Good girl.”

Remus positioned himself between her legs, looking down at her as he lined himself up. With one fluid motion he was inside her, letting out a deep groan as he felt her clench around him.

“Feel so fucking good baby. Take my cock so well.”

He wasted no time and began fucking into her roughly. His hips snapping against her at a quickening pace. Y/N’s moaned were like a drug to him and he couldn’t get enough. He thought that she sounded so pretty when she was whimpering underneath him, the panties in her mouth feebly trying to stifle her moans. She reached up to wrap her arms around him, legs trembling as she chased her high. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. He smirked as she clenched around him, her moans getting louder and louder.

“You close, baby?” he asked, looking down at the girl laying beneath him. Y/N nodded frantically and moaned through the makeshift gag. He thrust into her roughly a few more times before pulling out of her again. “Didn’t think I’d let you cum that easy, did you?”

He reached down pulling the panties from her mouth and tossing them on the floor. He manoeuvred her roughly so that she was on her knees with her face pressed against the mattress. Once again, he entered her, grabbing handfuls of her arse as he fucked her. He smacked his hand against the flesh sharply, earning a loud moan from Y/N, and leaving a large hand print on her skin. Remus’ thrusts became more sloppy as he reached his own climax, reaching round to pull Y/N up so her back was flush against his chest.

“Want you to look at me when you cum, baby. Gonna come on my cock, yeah?” he said gruffly.

“Y-yes, daddy.” she let out a strained moan, “so close.”

Her eyes all but glazed over as she reached her peak, seeing stars as she clenched around him. Remus wrapped a hand around her throat, holding her in place as he fucked into her. Letting a strangled moan, came inside her, her body going limp against him.

“Fuck.” she gasped.

“You okay?” he asked, collapsing on the bed and pulling her towards him.

“More than okay.” she smiled, her eyes fluttering shut as she snuggled into him.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin xyou #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #remus x reader

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floorbe · 6 months

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"Training Modules" (William Afton x Fem!Reader)

**Commission for @skalter !**

Summary: You'd been struggling to keep a job for the past few months, much to your own embarrassment... especially since you kinda have a thing for your career counselor, Mr. Raglan, who you're sure only sees you as a (rather difficult) client.

Warning(s): n/fw, cursing, slight degradation, slight praise, reader is AFAB and uses she/her, kind of cnc at one specific part but it's obvious that reader is into it, spit play, p in v, exhibitionism, dirty talk

A/N: this was so fun to write lol love my boy william steve

Word count: ~6,668

Pt I (here!), pt II

You were fucked.

This was the second job this month that you’d been fired from.

Okay, to be fair, it wasn’t your fault! Your manager was a hard ass! So what if your ten minute break turned into fifteen one time? It was absurd to allow workers only one ten minute break every 5 hours, especially in a fast food job. Good riddance, you thought as you threw your hat on the floor, storming out of the building.

Tears filled your eyes as you huffed, slamming your car door as you groaned in frustration. You rubbed your eyes tiredly, resting your forehead against the steering wheel. Mr. Raglan was going to be pissed.

“What… is your problem?” Mr. Raglan’s voice scratched at your ears, leaving your cheeks hot as you felt his eyes scan your features, “You’ve been fired from not one, but two jobs within the past… three and a half weeks. That’s barely a week and a half at each, Miss L/N.”

The heat that had bloomed in your cheeks easily spread to your ears at his blunt reminder, fidgeting anxiously as you watched his form from the corner of your eye. All you could muster was a nervous chuckle and an “I’m sorry” before your eyes flicked up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes surprised you, effectively locking your gaze with his. The flames that had heated your features seconds prior vanished, a jarring chill shuddering your form in its place.

His hands were folded neatly over one another, supporting his chin as he tilted his head to watch you. The silence seemed to suffocate the room, leaving no air for you to catch your breath. His eyes pinned you in place, leaving you frozen as if the icy blue in his eyes had somehow reached you. His eyes suddenly dropped to your leg, tracking its movement as it shook and bounced. You swore you saw a quirk of his lip, maybe even a glimmer of amusement clouded in how his eyes crinkled.

Then, as quickly as the moment had started, it was over. Mr. Raglan took a deep breath, breaking his attention away from your form to push himself up from his chair. You watched closely as he glided towards his coffee pot, swirling it around in his hand before pouring into a small, paper cup.

“...You’re running out of options,” he commented after a moment, his back facing you, “Losing two jobs within less than a month isn’t exactly… Well, let’s just say you won’t be getting a gold star, that’s for sure.” Now unburdened by his gaze, you took the time to scan over his form. You hadn’t gotten to see Mr. Raglan much (well, you had, but most of the time you were staring at one familiar carpet spot on the floor instead of his towering stature), and now that you had a chance, albeit a small one…

“...Sorry,” you murmured again, almost absently as you traced how his shirt clung loosely to his back with your eyes, making him appear lankier than he probably is. The pale yellow complimented the warmer colors of the room, you noted, and with a quick glance around the room you noticed that it was almost all decorated in dim yellows and browns.

The only splash of color in the room seemed to be the tie he sported. You had caught a glimpse of the color peeking out when he’d walked you in, and even then, you decided thoughtfully, the gritty purple seemed to disappear amongst the brighter colors. As you considered the color theory of his room, you couldn’t stop your eyes from following the curve of his lower back, lower, lower…

“Miss. L/N?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and it took you embarrassingly long to regain enough coherence to quickly jerk your head back up.

You nearly jolted in your seat as his eyes locked with yours again, and it was with a spark of embarrassment that you realized, with his head tilted back over his shoulder to catch your gaze, that he probably had seen you checking him out. One of his eyebrows raised as he caught your attention, and with the way his mouth quirked up into a sly smile, you’re now certain that he caught you checking him out.

Before you could sputter out a response, you swore you saw his eyes rake over your form quickly… But before you could process he was already spinning around, offering you the paper cup he’d filled with hot coffee.

“I said, coffee?” he repeated, head tilted in a warm smile as he offered.

“Oh! Um– yes, thank you,” you gently took the cup from his hands. Your hands were trembling as you took a sip from the flimsy cup, the hot coffee almost burning your tongue.

“I have one more job that you might be a fit for,” Mr. Raglan slipped back into his seat, steepling his fingers, “Now, I will warn you… If you lose this one, I’m not sure I’ll be able to get you another so easily. I wasn’t lying when I said your options are limited, Miss L/N.”

You nodded, letting your eyes train onto the bland carpeting in his office in an attempt to focus on his words. “...Alright. What–... what’s the job?” you asked, praying to any god listening that it wouldn’t be another damn fast food job…

“It’s a fast food job–”

God fucking–

“-though you’ll be hopping around from station to station.”

Extra stress of learning multiple positions at once. Great.

“Now, I know you have a history with fast food, and not a particularly good one. That being said, I have no doubt that you’ll excel here,” he smiled encouragingly at you. The way his eyes crinkled implied a warmth to his words, one that you didn’t doubt comforted many others in your position. Despite the innocuous smile, you felt a shiver rip down your spine; there was a glint in his eyes that you couldn’t define as he detailed the job. It gave you a jarring feeling that he knew something you didn’t.

“And– and fast food is the only job available…?”

He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, shrugging apologetically, “I’m afraid so… Trust me, Y/N-”

That was the first time he’d used your first name.

“-I searched high and low for something else for y’a… Sorry, kid,” though his expression seemed to soften with understanding, it hadn’t met his eyes, “If you lose this job, I mean… I won’t give up on y’a, but…” he shrugged again, sighing quietly.

“I understand,” you nodded, fidgeting with the now empty paper cup, “I- I’ll do my best, Mr. Raglan.”

“I know you will.”

Fuck. Okay, now you were really screwed.

“How fucking hard is it to run orders, Y/N?” you mumbled to yourself, throwing your barely used uniform on your bed haphazardly, “Fuck. Mr. Raglan is gonna be pissed…” you groaned frustratedly, throwing yourself face down on your bed for an angry nap. Just as you were about to drift off, your phone pinged beneath your hand, jolting you awake with another groan. You flipped it open groggily, blinking away the sleep from your eyes.

How was your first day?

You blinked in surprise. That was… new. Mr. Raglan had never texted you before.

Hope you haven’t gotten fired yet.

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, grimacing. You were hovering your thumbs over the keyboard, trying to find some way to confess that, yes, before even your first lunch break, you’d been fired.

Kidding! Unless you did.

You decided that straight to the point would spare you both time.

I got fired. I’m sorry, Mr. Raglan, I understand if you want to refer me to another counselor.

Your leg bounced anxiously as you waited for his response. It was minutes before your phone pinged again, and you hastily flicked it open.

That’s a shame. Tell you what, why don’t you come in sometime today? I think I may have found something more suitable for you.

Your response was typed within seconds, thumbs hastily clicking through the letters to spell your response.

Absolutely, thank you so much, Mr. Raglan! What time works best?

Wonderful! Anytime after six works.

That was weird. You could’ve sworn he worked 9 - 5… Maybe he was working overtime? Just for you…? You felt your cheeks warm at the idea. There was no way, but… it didn’t hurt to daydream a bit. Not as long as you didn’t let it interfere with being professional with him, right?

Your phone pinged again, and you couldn’t help the smile that quirked your lips as you read his message.

See you soon, Y/N!

You hadn’t liked how that made your heart skip. Maybe you shouldn’t daydream if you were already getting butterflies at the thought of him. You glanced at the clock– 3pm.

Well… you did have time to spare… maybe one wouldn’t hurt. Plus, it wasn’t like you saw him everyday… You’d have time to cool off this crush eventually!

You let out a deep sigh as you clicked off the car engine. You took a moment to compose yourself, rubbing your eyes tiredly with a groan. It was a miracle you’d made it even five minutes early with how you’d rushed out of the house with your car keys dangling from your teeth, too occupied to even grab a sweater for the chilly weather.

Yeah, okay, maybe letting yourself daydream wasn’t the best idea. You’d spent way too long remembering how his form had loomed over you in his office, how his arm was bent despite reaching all the way over his desk to shake your hand, fingers curling around yours, dwarfing your palm… You bit your lip, pressing your palm flat against your own thigh. The warmth, though obviously your own, let your mind wander.

You imagined his piercing eyes catching yours again, his hand reaching out to rest on your thigh in a silent reassurance... Maybe his face would harden when he realized your position, maybe his eyes would sharpen, boring into yours as his hand climbed higher and higher, slipping inwards…

You shook your head, blinking the remnants of your daydream away. You stepped out of your car, the darkness of the evening surrounding you as you crossed the vacant lot. You swallowed hard, rubbing your hands together anxiously as you neared the front door. A deep, shuddering breath left you in a poor attempt to calm your racing heart before you raised your fist, rapping gently on the door.

It was mere seconds before you heard the door click unlocked, swinging open. Mr. Raglan greeted you with a smile, looming over you once again as he leaned out to peek around the building. You caught a whiff of his cologne, deep and musky, mixed with the familiar scent of shitty, instant coffee. It took you a moment to realize he was looking at you expectantly, and you fumbled with a response to pretend you were listening. You shot for the safest option; if he’d just opened the door, a greeting?

“Hello, Mr. Raglan! I’m good, how are you?”

He paused, tilting his head. One of his eyebrows arched, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a sly look. “I said,” he started, making it clear he’d caught your little lie, “Are you ready for the job opportunity of a lifetime?”

You froze, mouth opening and closing as you scrambled for words. Heat prickled your cheeks, flaming hot as you watched his lips curl further into a smug smirk. “U-uh– yes, yeah!” you finally managed to choke out, hastily ducking under his arm to slip into the familiar building.

Mr. Raglan clicked the door shut behind you, keys jingling as he locked the doors. You swallowed hard, casting a look around the empty lobby; it was odd to see the space so vacant. Suddenly there was a warm pressure on your lower back, lightly pushing to guide you forward. “So,” Mr. Raglan started, voice hoarse before he cleared his throat, “I’ve found a gig I think you might be a good fit for. Real good pay, hours, convenient location… and your boss isn’t too shabby, either.”

You let yourself be guided into his office, taking a seat in the plush chair across from his desk as he circled you. He didn’t slide behind his desk like he usually did, instead choosing to lean against the front. His body was close, and you resisted the urge to scoot back as his legs brushed against yours. “Thank you, Mr. Raglan, I- I really appreciate it,” you smiled, tipping your head up at him.

He waved you off, hand swishing air across your face as he beamed down at you, “Aw, hey, I can’t take all the credit,” his nimble fingers curled around his keys, jingling them as he shook them in front of you, showcasing the rabbit’s foot attached to the keyring, “Maybe my little rabbit’s foot helped y’a out, too, huh?”

You chuckled along with him, watching his torso torque to place them back onto his desk. “Anyway, I’m sure you’re worried that this’ll be another fast food job you get fired from on day one,” he gave you a pointed look but seemed to preen when you nervously averted your gaze, “But… It’s not! In fact, I’d say it’s a hell of a lot better.”

“What’s the job?” you asked with a tilt of your head, embarrassment fading as your curiosity grew.

The grin that cracked across his face sent goosebumps down your body. His back hunched as he leaned over your form, arms spreading eagerly to the side in a “ta-da” as his voice exclaimed, “My secretary!”

Your mouth went dry.

“I know, I know, a bit on the nose, but hey, who knows your resume better than your career counselor?”

You forced out a laugh, dipping your head to hide the way your smile hadn’t met your eyes. You were already dealing with less-than-pure thoughts of him, and that was when you saw him sparingly for updates and job searches! Seeing him almost every day? Not only just seeing him, but interacting and getting to know him?

“...I’m sensing that you’re not too excited about it, but trust me, working for me will be the best decision you make,” he grinned down at you, and you tried your best to suppress the chills that ran down your spine. You ignored how his grin sharpened ever-so-slightly, a sign that you weren’t nearly as sneaky as you’d hoped.

“Sorry! Sorry, I am excited,” you tried to reassure him, waving your hands, “I just– I’m surprised, is all? Uh, I guess I didn’t expect the job to be…”

“With the big, bad Mr. Raglan?” he nearly growled, eyes twinkling with amusement as he mimed clawing at you with a chuckle, “Don’t worry. I get that a lot. Tell you what… How about I let you think it over and you can get back to me?”

Despite your hesitations prior, you couldn’t turn down another job. You bit your lip, silently weighing your options. Sure, you were unbearably horny for the guy (and he sometimes gave you a chill no one else seemed to get), but you could ignore it! …Probably.

“No, no, I accept,” you hastily reassured him, smiling politely, “Sorry, I’d love to. I was just caught off guard.”

“Perfect!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together before reaching out a hand to you, “How’s tomorrow for a start date?”

Alright, maybe not all hope was lost! Thus far, your day had been remarkably (and fortunately) uneventful as a whole. Mr. Raglan had introduced you briefly to the main staff, went over dress code, common policies, and now you were stuck watching training videos about customer service. You had zoned out about an hour ago, though, mindlessly clicking through the training quizzes you’d seen too many times before. The questions were always the same basic set you always got when training at a new job, just slightly reworded to seem original to whatever company you were under.

“Wow, you’re a really fast reader! You barely even clicked next before you answered that one!”

Mr. Raglan’s voice startled you from your thoughts and you flinched, hand jerking as if to hide the screen. You couldn’t help the distinct feeling of being caught doing something wrong, electricity sparking along your tongue as you looked back over your shoulder.

The moment you locked eyes with his, you swore you saw his smile sharpen as his eyes trailed over your startled expression; however, when you blinked, he was looking at you with the same amused quirk of his lips as he scanned your monitor. He chuckled at your expression, placing a warm hand on your shoulder and leaning in conspiratorially, whispering, “Hey, don’t worry. I won’t tell your boss.” He winked at you, laughing again as you choked out a chuckle, still reeling from his sudden appearance.

The weight of his hand was heavy on your shoulder, warmth seeping through your shirt as you swallowed hard, forcing out another laugh to bide time fighting off how your mind kept wondering how his hand would feel trailing lower, lower–

It was only when he’d tilted his head, dipping his chin ever-so-slightly to study your expression that you realized the silence had stretched for a moment too long. “They’re all the same questions,” you spit out hastily, clearing your throat as you finally composed yourself. He only hummed curiously at your words, eyes flicking back to the screen. His eyebrows furrowed as he adjusted his glasses, chin brushing against your shoulder as he leaned closer as if to inspect the screen.

“Um, most jobs have the same basic training questions about, like… hospitality, y’know?” you explained, trying very hard to not think about how close he was to you right now. You could even smell his cologne, for God’s sake!

“Huh,” he hummed thoughtfully after a moment, taking another long moment to study the screen before straightening up once again, towering over your seated form. He seemed to preen in the way you shrank a bit in your seat, clasping his hands together as he leaned against your desk, “Well, hey, as long as you’re not driving our clients away, I’m happy.”

“O-oh, no, no, don’t worry, Mr. Raglan, I won’t,” you hastily reassured him. You opened your mouth to speak again, but the words died in your throat as his hand landed on your shoulder again, squeezing lightly.

“I know you won’t. You forgot I was your career counselor, Y/N,” he reminded you with a chuckle, “After knowing you this long, I know I can trust you to be an excellent worker.” He paused, shifting his gaze away briefly before meeting yours again with a quirk of his lips, “...Though there is a training module that’s required of you that needs your full attention.”

You furrowed your brows, tilting your head as you considered what it might entail, “Okay! Um, which module is it? I could do it now.”

His sly smirk cracked into a grin as he leaned down beside your ear once more, his hand lightly massaging your shoulder, “It’s a newer one. I think you’ll like it, Y/N. You can only access it through my computer, though.”

Okay, were you reading this energy incorrectly? That sentence had an undertone, hadn’t it?

“Again, it’s a newer module, still in the early stages, so I’ll have to be there while you complete it to make sure it runs smoothly,” he continued casually, straightening back up, “But I think you’d be the perfect, uh… trial participant.”

There was definitely an innuendo in there, wasn’t there? Were you going insane?

“What do you say, Y/N?” he asked after a moment, voice lowering to a soft rumble, his eyes gleaming, “Wanna follow big, bad Mr. Raglan to his office?”

Definitely an innuendo. Fuck. Okay. Your cheeks were on fire, a lump forming in your throat as you sputtered, trying to find something to say. He seemed to find your flustered behavior amusing, for he squeezed your shoulder with a chuckle before retreating, “I’ll let you think about it, hmm?”

“No,” the word was out of your mouth before you could process it, “U-uh, I mean– yeah, I–...” you fumbled for the right words as he tilted his head down at you. After watching you fumble for words for an embarrassingly long moment, he finally cut you off by reaching forward, the pads of his fingers barely grazing your cheekbone. You froze.

“There you go! Knew you’d be a good girl the moment you walked in my door,” he praised in a mockingly innocent tone, smile crinkling his eyes as his thumb swiped across your cheekbone. “Had an eyelash on your cheek,” he explained quietly, and you could hear the amusement in his tone as he watched you try to recover.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you watched him turn towards his office, casting a look over his shoulder at you with a raised brow. You heard him snicker as you scrambled out of your seat after him.

He swung open the door to his office, stepping to the side to let you enter first before he followed closely behind. You heard the door shut behind you, muffling the ambient noise of the rest of the building. In the new silence you could hear him turn the lock, a soft click assuring your privacy.

“What’s the first step of the module?” you asked in a sudden bout of confidence, casting a long glance over your shoulder with, what you hoped came off as, a sultry smile.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” he growled. His hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you towards his desk. You momentarily thought he was going to make you sit in his chair, but before you could spin around, his hand grazed up your spine. He circled you, looming over you predatorily before tracing the pads of his fingers up your arms to rest on your shoulders.

As he applied a gentle pressure to your shoulders, you furrowed your brows in confusion. He chuckled, eyes glinting dangerously as he drank in your expression before pressing down on your shoulders again, this time followed by a low command of, “On your knees, sweetheart. Under the desk, c’mon.”

Your eyes widened at the realization, but you couldn’t ignore the heat that flushed through your body at the way his eyes raked over your body hungrily. You made a show of licking your lips as you pretended to consider his words, humming thoughtfully. “Or what, Mr. Raglan?” you asked after a moment, batting your eyelashes teasingly up at him.

Mr. Raglan let out a bark of laughter, eyes glinting in amusement at your rebellion, “Or what? Or… Well, you wouldn’t want to piss off your new boss, would you, Miss Y/N?” His eyes locked onto the way your teeth tugged at your bottom lip teasingly, “Don’t you want to make a good impression?”

“Oh, of course,” you assured him playfully, sinking down onto your knees with a sly grin, “I wouldn’t want to be disrespectful, Mr. Raglan.” The carpeted floors hit your knees with a soft thud, shifting backwards to settle under his desk with a mockingly sweet smile.

“Atta girl,” he nearly growled, wasting no time in plopping down in his office chair. His legs framed either side of your vision as he scooted his chair in, boxing you underneath his desk. You bit your lip as his thighs opened wider, making no attempt to hide the growing tent in his slacks. God, you’d been fantasizing about this for months, and now… Well, damn, you weren’t going to waste any time.

You shuffled forward, resting your cheek on his thigh and gazing up at him through your lashes. You watched his lips curl up for the umpteenth time that day, sliding a hand down to rest on his own inner thigh. He patted it enticingly, chuckling lowly, “C’mon, sweetheart, I’m not gonna wait all day for that pretty mouth of yours.”

“I’m paid by the hour,” you reminded him teasingly, sliding your hand slowly up his pant leg and rubbing the inner seam of his thigh. You heard his breath hitch softly, and another low laugh left his lips.

“Oh, trust me, I know. Bet you’re gonna be racking up a lot of overtime from now on, aren’t you?” his eyes tracked as your finger trailed higher, barely grazing over the obvious bulge in his pants. His hips bucked lightly, a growl of impatience slipping from his lips as you teased him.

The rough pads of his fingers crawled up your cheek, his nails scratching lightly against your scalp as he guided your head closer to his bulge. You shuffled your cheek closer to his inner thigh, chewing on the inside of your bottom lip as you slowly slid your palm over his bulge, rubbing it. Fuck, it looked big, and you doubted he was fully hard yet. You squirmed at the thought, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

Just when you were about to unfasten his belt, your fingers grazing against the cool metal, there was a sudden knock on his door. You froze, eyes widening as you moved to crawl out from under his desk hastily. His grip on your scalp tightened lightly, fingernails pressing into your scalp lightly as he scooted his desk chair forward, caging you between his thighs.

He raised a teasing finger to press against his lips, shushing you inaudibly before he straightened up. Unlocking the door, you heard him vaguely greet whoever had entered, their voices muffled to you through the thicker wood of his desk. You watched as his feet moved back into your vision, his eyes flicking down to you casually to make sure you were settled right back between his knees. He tapped his foot idly, his fingers searching blindly to cup your scalp again.

You decided to mostly tune out their conversation after hearing snippets about administration tasks and suggestions. Mr. Raglan was surprisingly composed as you carefully laid your cheek on his thigh again, the only acknowledgement of your movement being how his thumb tapped lightly on your temple. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or encouragement, but as you watched how casually he performed, it struck you that there could have easily been another woman beneath his desk when you would have appointments with him.

Then again, Mr. Raglan hadn’t seemed like the type to have flings… Well, he also hadn’t seemed like the type to keep you under his desk, breath ghosting over the obvious tent in his pants, as he talked casually to a coworker. How well did you really know him, anyway? The realization made you frown deeply, a surprising spark of jealousy igniting in your gut as you realized the very real possibility that you weren’t the only one.

In a sudden burst of confidence, you slid your hand up to silently unfasten his belt, pulling it slowly out from around his waist to keep quiet. “Oh, really?” Mr. Raglan’s voice broke through your concentration, and as you peeked up at him he glanced down briefly at you, pointedly, making clear that he wasn’t just talking to his coworker. You held his gaze for as long as you could, biting your lip as you slowly unbuttoned his slacks.

“Yeah, so remember to–” Mr. Raglan’s eyes flicked back up to his coworker as they spoke again, nodding emphatically as you unzipped his slacks. He shifted in his seat, the spinny chair squeaking as he scooted forward, tapping his foot as a warning before you scooted back. As he hid more of his body under the desk with you, you couldn’t help the wicked grin that spread across your face as you slowly, finally, pulled down the elastic of his underwear.

His cock gradually sprang upwards, freed of its confines and practically begging for your attention. You felt his fingers grip the back of your head tighter, his cock twitching as he let his hips rut forward, a silent reminder of your “module”. You raised a hand to glide over his length, letting it rest heavy against your palm before you curled your fingers around him.

You heard his breath hitch as you slowly started to pump his aching cock and it throbbed against your palm at the teasing pace. He tapped his finger on your temple impatiently once again, hips pushing forward silently. You bit back a grin, squeezing his length teasingly before you decided to play with him a bit more. Maybe it was petty, but if he really had had other women here, you kind of wanted to make sure he didn’t forget you any time soon.

Well, you would be seeing him every day, but still! First impressions are everything, you contend amusedly. With that, you leaned in slowly, taking the tip of his cock into your mouth to suckle on it lightly. You held back a laugh as you heard him stifle a gasp by clearing this throat, hips bucking into your mouth at the sudden sensation. His fingers gripped your scalp and surprised you by nearly yanking you closer, pumping more of his shaft into your mouth without warning.

You jolted, hands gripping his thighs tightly as you welcomed more of his cock into your mouth. He seemed to enjoy the submission, for his grip softened as he stroked over your cheek with his thumb briefly. You preened under the new attention, even if his eyes were still trained up on his coworker. Speaking of… What were they even talking about, again?

The question left your mind as his hips rutted into your mouth again as your jaw relaxed. The sudden movement startled you, though his hand pushed on the back of your head at the same time, keeping you in place. You squeezed your eyes shut as his tip ended up brushing too far down your throat, and you couldn’t stop the forceful gag that followed..

As your throat contracted around his cock you could feel a sting in your nose, tears bubbling up in your eyes as you tried to pull back. You vaguely heard him hack loudly, likely to cover the sound of your wet gag and the pop of his cock slipping from your lips. His hand dragged down your face as you tried to suppress another cough. You caught his gaze as he shoved his fingers into your mouth, helping to muffle your noises.

“Y’okay, Steve?” you heard his coworker ask and your heart raced, shuffling further beneath the desk.

Mr. Raglan cleared his throat and you saw the forced polite smile on his lips as you bit down lightly on his fingers, muffling your breathing. “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m alright. Think I’m catching something.”

“Ah, alright. Well, I’ll leave you be, then. Take care, Steve,” you felt your body physically deflate in relief as you listened to the coworker step back, shuffling out of the room with a soft click of the door. A brief moment passed to let the coworker walk off fully before Mr. Raglan shoved his fingers further down your throat, making you gag again.

“Aww, was that too much?” he taunted you, pushing his lip out in faux pout before laughing darkly. His cock was still stiff against his abdomen, gleaming with his own pre-cum and your saliva, “Couldn’t even take half my cock down your throat before you were gagging on it. Made me work extra hard to make sure we didn’t get caught.”

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, but as his fingers winded eagerly around your tongue, you sucked on them, letting saliva dribble down your chin once more. He groaned at the sight before ripping his fingers from your mouth. “Get up,” he growled, eyes flashing as you shakily rose from your knees, crawling out from under his desk. You hadn’t even fully stood up before his hands were gripping your hips, dragging you forward. You let him manhandle you, lifting you and pressing you roughly down onto his thigh.

You barely had time to tilt your head in question before he guided your hips to drag along his thigh, your previously neglected wetness finally getting attention. You’d almost forgotten how fucking horny you were, and you wasted no time in bucking your hips down once reminded. A breathy moan left your lips as you felt your throbbing clit rub perfectly against his upper thigh.

“Look at you,” he purred, helping to keep your pace steady as his gaze hungrily raked down your form, “God, you’re so fucking needy.” He laughed, squeezing your hips as he bounced his thigh up to meet your movements, “If I were a crueler man, I’d make you cum on my thigh before I’d even touch that pretty pussy.”

A shot of arousal flooded through you at the idea, and you couldn’t stop the whimper that left your lips at the idea, hips twitching subconsciously. He laughed at you again, letting you rut against his thigh and chase the stimulation he’d been denying you, “Oh, you like that idea? Naughty girl!”

He drank in the sight of your trembling form once again, watching you bounce with each buck of your hips, how your mouth fell open to retort snarkily before he bounced his thigh again and made your head fog over a bit... His grin was wide and smug, enjoying how much power he obviously held over you here, on his thigh, dragging your clit across his leg as your libido gradually lowered your inhibitions.

As you felt the knot in your abdomen start to tighten, your hips stuttered in their movement. He caught the movement immediately, lifting you off of his thigh easily and grinning wickedly at you when you whined out a “hey!”.

“Not yet,” he growled, repositioning you on the center of his lap, reaching one hand down to pump his cock lazily. His other hand made quick work of your pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with practiced ease before slapping your ass playfully.

You slowly stood from your place on his lap, trembling slightly as you shucked off your bottoms, revealing your dripping folds and throbbing clit to his hungry eyes. He dragged you back into his lap, the head of his cock nudging against your clit before moving to grind his length along your puffy folds. “Aww, you’re practically dripping for me… Bet I could even fuck you without any prep, couldn’t I?” he asked you lowly, the head of his cock prodding teasingly against your entrance.

All you could do was nod, the throbbing in your core making you too needy to care about his taunting. He chuckled darkly before sliding his hands up to grip your ass cheeks, groping them roughly as he spread your lips for his twitching cock. He nudged your folds open with the head of his cock, slowly bullying himself through your tight opening with a low groan.

“Shit– you’re so fucking tight,” his eyes closed briefly as you worked your hips down, finally sinking down to the hilt, balls deep in your fluttering hole as you both took in the blissful feeling. “Ah, yeah, this is what you needed, huh?” he growled tauntingly as your walls tightened around him. He lifted you off his lap slightly, only to slam you back down onto his length, stretching you out deliciously as the head of his cock rubbed against the sensitive spot inside.

“Mhm, feel that? Yeah, this is what you really needed, someone to fuck this pretty pussy until you’re dumb enough to follow orders,” he laughed as you let out a particularly loud moan, his length throbbing inside of you with each rough drag of his hips. It was hard to think straight with how he was talking to you, and it certainly didn’t help how he was currently splitting your cunt open like you’d never felt before.

His fingers suddenly gripped your chin roughly, forcing your attention onto him as he fucked up into you, quickening his pace to watch you squirm, “Oh, fuck, you’re squeezing me already– you close? That quickly?”

You nodded, sputtering out a weak “yeah” as you felt his hips slam against yours, one hand snaking down to roughly thumb your clit as he laughed, “Thought so. Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to work on your stamina.” You felt the knot in your abdomen tighten again, your walls throbbing with each drag of his fat cock along your sensitive walls.

“Mhm, this is the job you really needed: coming in and being fucked dumb from 9 - 5. Bet you’d even work overtime for that, wouldn’t you?”

With a strangled moan, you felt the knot in your stomach snap, pleasure pulsing through your body as your back snapped into an arch. You couldn’t focus on anything he was saying, only how his thumb quickened its pace on your clit, how his cock throbbed and twitched inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, Mr. Raglan,” you moan, eyes rolling back as you bounced on his cock.

“That’s it– fuck, yeah, take it, take it—” he hissed, pumping his cock one, two more times before stilling. His hands gripped your hips harshly, and you were sure they’d leave bruises the next day. He groaned as he shoved you down, pushing his cock as deep as possible. His hips grinded against yours as he came, shooting spurts of hot, sticky cum in your hole as he groaned lowly, “Fu-uck, that’s it, atta girl, take it all–”

You drooped forward as you both came down from your highs, your forehead nestled against his shoulder as you panted heavily. His cock twitched once more before it gradually softened inside of you as your walls pulsed around him. You vaguely acknowledged how his hands slid under your ass, lifting you up to let his cock slip out of you.

He watched his cum pool into a bead and drip out of your hole with an intensity you hadn’t expected, and you couldn’t help the dull throb that returned at how enraptured he seemed. Before you could process his actions, his fingers were slipping inside of your folds, forcing a weak whimper from your mouth as his fingers sent accidental pleasure zipping through your already overstimulated body.

You relaxed once more as they slipped back out soon after, watching with tired curiosity. He brought his fingers, now covered in both of your juices, up to your mouth. He tilted his head as he pressed his fingers against your bottom lip, as if he was studying your reaction. After a moment, you took his fingers into your mouth, too fucked out to care how embarrassing it might look. You sucked lazily on his calloused fingers, tasting your combined juices that coated the roughened skin.

When you looked back up to catch his reaction, the grin on his face was almost sinister. He slowly dragged his fingers down your lip and traced down your jawline, resting loosely near your throat. His thumb pressed lightly against the center of your neck, making you wince as your throat contracted slightly. You hadn’t gotten a chance to question the odd gesture further before the darkened glint in his eyes was gone and he was picking you up, placing you on his desk with a surprising tenderness.

“I’ll get you cleaned up and then you can clock out,” he smiled kindly at you, tucking himself back into his pants before giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. He circled around you, stepping out of the room before casually casting a glance over his shoulder, “Hey, you mind working overtime tomorrow?”

#fnaf imagines #william afton x reader #n*sw//#steve raglan x reader #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf william afton #fnaf steve raglan

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aragornsrockcollection · 2 years

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What do you think Sauron’s opinion of Elrond was?

There’s a line in Two Towers (I think) I was going to look up to answer this, except I got lazy, where Gollum says Sauron hates something and Frodo responds like “What doesn’t he hate?”

So I’m going to go out on a limb and say Sauron hates Elrond.

But to actually contribute something not obvious to the conversation, I think of all his biggest adversaries, he is most likely to underestimate Elrond.

Elrond’s influence is huge but we only see him give his advice to those who came to him voluntarily, he hides away but not so well he can’t be found in need. He’s a healer, not a warrior or a king, and he doesn’t have the ambition Galadriel has.

Heir of Luthien? Hate that. Uses his power to influence events mainly by being a well of knowledge and a safe place to weather storms? Sauron doesn’t understand that.

Elrond ultimately defeats Sauron by raising children with love, helping those in need, not seeking power and giving solid advice. He puts together the fellowship, but doesn’t even put his name on it, he helps everyone there see what has to be done by letting them suggest options and showing them how those ideas are infeasible, and making sure everyone has the whole story. He takes advice as well, he sends Pippin instead of Glorfindel at Gandalf’s suggestion. He gently refuses to let the fellowship swear an oath.

One of my favorite moments from the council of Elrond is when they’re like “Who will do this task” and Elrond goes quiet. It is NOT because he doesn’t know who would be best for it. But he knows Frodo has to choose on his own, he cannot force him, or what little hope they have will be gone. The MOMENT Frodo says he’ll do it, Elrond says he is the only person who can, but he doesn’t lay that on him until he is committed.

If everyone had rolled up to Rivendell and Elrond had just said “you nine go drop the ring in Mt doom” and sent the same exact people? The fellowship would have failed, because the understanding wouldn’t have been there. Elrond handled that council to perfection, and that is the kind of passive power based in understanding that is sooooo vital to the downfall of Sauron, but which Sauron does not value or comprehend.

The people that scare Sauron are people who want the ring. He is 100% confident that without the power of the ring, he cannot be beaten, and the fact that middle earth would fall to darkness even if Galadriel or Gandalf took it is pretty weak recompense for him if he is defeated.

Elrond never even entertains the idea that he would take the ring (at least in our view). Every bearer of an Elven Ring (and Aragorn) is offered it. Gandalf first when Frodo first learns what it is, and he tells us what he would do with it and why it would be a bad idea. Galadriel most famously, and she had literally dreaded the idea of the ring coming through Lothlorien because she knew she wanted it, and famously refusing it was a trial for her.

There is no moment when Elrond is DIRECTLY offered the Ring by Frodo. But the entire first half of the book the goal is “get the Ring to Rivendell” where Elrond will know what to do with it, and it will be safe. In the beginning the hobbits have no concept of going further than that- so basically the idea is “put the Ring in Elrond’s power” for the first half of the book.

And Frodo arrives half dead to Rivendell, completely alone and vulnerable, and Elrond heals him, and never is there even discussion of whether Elrond could have taken it from him then, or if he was tempted to. The only thing Elrond says on the topic of the Ring being given to him is that Rivendell cannot keep it safe from the Enemy.

Taking the Ring to Minas Tirith clearly the equivalent of giving the Ring to Denethor. Galadriel clearly fears that the Ring coming to Lothlorien will be her downfall because it will be in her power and she knows she wants it.

Elrond is never shown even considering taking it. The Ring staying in Rivendell would be bad according to him because they could not withstand Sauron’s full force bent towards extracting it. Even in this scenario where the Ring remains in Rivendell, Elrond discounts a possibility that he would be tempted to use it to keep Sauron out.

Sauron is physically incapable of thinking of someone like that as a threat, it is his biggest weakness, and that’s why the plan Elrond facilitates is the one that ultimately takes him out.

#tolkien #jirt #lotr #silmarillion #silm #jrr tolkien #elrond #Peredhil #Elrond Peredhel #the lord of the rings #Sauron #Elrond doesn’t want to rule anything and Sauron is like ‘sooo… you’re weak then?’#and Elrond is like ‘sure if you want to see it that way feel free’#Elrond’s power manifests in ways Sauron does not get #he still hates him tho

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acourtofinkandpapyrus · 8 months

Text

Confessions (Eris X Reader) *

Warnings: Angst, and my first fic with smut. So yeah, a little plot but mostly SMUT. Oral, female receiving, actual sex, and maybe a sweet talking kink.

Eris and the emissary both have hidden feelings, but Eris has never been good at expressing emotions, especially jealousy...

I walk down the hall, trying not to listen to the intensely infuriating male tailing me, bragging loudly about how back in the throne room how he had managed to convince his father to join forces with the Summer Court. My court.

“I’m just saying-” He drawled, staring at me as he kept pace with my increasingly fast footsteps. “Wasn’t it supposed to be your job to convince them? Maybe if I sucked up to Tarquin as much as you do, I could be emissary too-”

I turned towards him, diplomacy be damned- and pinned him against the wall, letting him see the raging power in my eyes. “I don’t know what your problem is today lordling, but I will not tolerate your ridicule.”

He grinned, fire swirling in his eyes as he looked at my arms, caging him against the wall. “How bold of you emissary, and here I thought you were here to please me.”

I snarled, dropping my arms and storming off.

Not looking back to see if he followed me, I went into my room, slamming the door behind me.

I hissed as I ran my hands through my ornately styled hair, ruining hours of hard work.

For the most part, I had grown to like the male. There was more to him than people thought. I had seen with my own eyes that when he had an option between good and bad, he chose to do good.

Sometimes we would flirt a bit too, but never had he spoken to me like that. Not like the way he did with everyone else.

I stormed over to my bed, grabbing one of the fluffy pillows and shoving it to my face, screaming into it.

I hated it. I hated this. Because for the last week, I had been working up the courage to tell him…

Fuck, I still couldn’t even imagine saying it to him, especially right now.

You know how the worst thing they could say is no? Well, Eris is a walking demonstration that isn’t the case.

I had seen him completely destroy people if he found them, or what they did distasteful.

Maybe I thought he was a good male, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be cruel if the mood struck him.

I looked in the long mirror that towered over me. I looked like an absolute mess.

I tore out the circlet I was wearing, along with all the other pretty jewels.

Staring into the mirror, I stared into my own eyes, speaking softly to myself.

“I love you. That’s all you have to say. Three stupid little words.”

Leaning my head against the mirror, I felt pathetic.

I was way too sober for this.

A few drinks later in the privacy of my room, not only was I still not ready, I felt even more pathetic.

Being a little tipsy, I decided to take a walk, hoping to calm my nerves and clear my head.

It wasn’t long before I was walking through the hallways, barely cleaned up enough to be presentable, but no one was out at this hour anyway.

I saw the hall that led to the library, and I paused.

The smell of books and the stories they held always cheered me up. I was sure a good book and a comfy chair could help my hurting heart.

I entered the library only to see the red headed male that smelled of cider, crisp autumn air, and fire that consumed my nights and days.

He looked up, noticing me right as I was turning to leave.

“Y/N, please…”

I paused, my breath caught in my throat as I waited for him to continue.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked as he spoke, and I turned around to see his red hair hanging in his eyes as he looked up at me, lips slightly parted and his eyes wide with a mixture of guilt and loneliness.

“Why did you even say all of that in the first place?” I asked, letting the door close as I walked further in, standing next to him.

He looked up at me and swallowed thickly. “I was jealous.”

My breath caught as I stared into the depths of his beautiful red eyes. “Of who? Tarquin?”

His hands fisted and he looked away. “Of Tarquin, of all the males who look at you, of all the males you flirt with. I’m jealous of all of it.”

He laughed, the sound devoid of joy. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I? Not only do I not tell you how I feel, but I make you suffer for it.”

I don’t even think he realizes what he's confessing.

Moving so I was right in front of him, I took his face in my hands, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “You are not pathetic, you are not bad,” I pushed some of the hair out from in front of his eyes, “You have had a hard life, a life where your family taught you to be cruel. I see the scars you hide that your father inflicts. I know that inside you have the potential to be great.”

His eyes are tearing up, looking up at me as if I was some sort of deity, blessing him.

“I know this, because I love you Eris. I’ve loved you for so very long, and I know that you have a good heart.”

It takes him a moment to realize what I had said, the meaning.

Before he can respond, I lower my lips to his, kissing him softly before pulling back.

He blinked, his whole demeanor changing in milliseconds as he shot up, his hands interlacing in my hair as he pressed his lips to mine, his tongue exploring as I let out a slight whimper.

Drawing back, his breath came out in pants, and I could tell he was barely holding himself back.

Lust clouded my mind, and I barely heard what he said. “What?” I murmured, wishing his lips were back on mine again.

“Did you mean it? Do you love me?” He asks, and I’m suddenly stone cold sober at the vulnerability in his eyes.

I once again bring my hands up to cup his face, stroking his jawline gently. “I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I was just so sure you’d see my flaws and turn me away. I was a coward.” I say the last part, looking away so I don’t have to see the look on his face as he realizes what a huge mistake he’s made.

He gently guides my face so I’m once again looking him in the eyes, and he looks down at me with such love and wonder that I almost crumple right then and there.

“I would never turn away from you my darling. Never you.” He leaned down, placing his mouth on my neck, speaking in between kisses, “You are an angel.” I struggled not to let out a moan as the scent of his arousal hit me, his hands massaging my hips gently. “Ever since I first saw you, that first snarky remark, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He drew back, looking down at me lovingly. “You are too good for me, but now that I know that you like me back, I will fight like hell to make sure I can keep seeing that sassy little smirk you love to send my way.”

“I love you.” I said, throwing my arms around his shoulders. “And I never want to be apart from you again.”

He growled, and I squeezed my thighs together, trying to keep my wits about me as I started to drown in this male.

Hoisting me up, he turned us, placing me on the large comfy chair he had just been lounging in.

“Do you want this?” He asked, his thumbs gently grazing my hardened nipples as his voice dropped an octave, staring at my already abused lips.

I nodded, and he stopped breathing for a moment, pinching one of my nipples while whispering into my ear, “Use your words.”

“Please Eris-” I begged, whimpering as I tried to pull him closer.

He grinned, his eyes predatory as he dropped to his knees. “Don’t worry angel, I’m going to take good care of you.”

Slowly, he felt every inch of my thighs, going to reach for my panties and hissing when he found me already bare.

“Oh naughty girl. Were you hoping this would happen?” He asked, chuckling as he pushed my dress up, placing my legs over his shoulders.

I opened my mouth to respond, but I only moaned as he dove in, his tongue flicking my clit and licking alternately.

I lost all sense of time as I was oh so slowly brought closer to the edge, that coil in my stomach tightening as I realized I wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

“Eris, I’m so close-” I said through whimpers, moaning as he once again flicked my clit.

I could feel him grin into my most private parts as he pushed two fingers into my slickness, curling his fingers and making my hips buck involuntarily. “Eris, please!” I whined, rolling my hips in an attempt get him to start moving again, and he laughed darkly.

“I’ve been waiting to taste you forever angel. When you come on my tongue, I want to be the only thing you’re thinking about.” He said, his voice so seductive I almost came right there.

“You’re the only thing on my mind all the time,” I said, letting out little noises of pleasure as he pumped his fingers, once, twice.

He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

He dove back in, tongue and fingers working in tandem, pushing me over the edge of bliss, calling out his name as my body shook from the pleasure he drew from me.

He kept going, drawing out my pleasure as long as possible.

I was a puddle as he drew his fingers out, sucking my juices off of them before leaning down to kiss me again.

I could feel his hardness pressing through his pants, and I pushed into it with the palm of my hand, eliciting a hiss from him.

“My naughty angel. Do you want my dick inside you?” He asked breathlessly, nuzzling my neck before dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin, and he groaned in time with my moan.

“I need you Eris. I need you in me now.” I pleaded, working at the buttons of his pants.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, suddenly gentle. “Let me.”

Undoing the rest of the buttons, his member sprung free and my mouth watered from how big he was.

He picked me up, spinning us around so he was sitting and I was held aloft above him.

I waited for him to push in, but as I looked at his face, I realized he was giving me complete control.

Smiling softly, I lowered myself slowly, both of us moaning as I made it all the way down.

He helped me move up and down slowly as he spoke. “I’ve never felt like this for someone before. You scare the hell out of me because I’m falling, and I knew that if you told me you felt the same way, you would completely own me.”

I gasped as he started to rub my clit, unable to form words eloquently, I said, my voice guttural, “You’re mine.”

Our pace sped up and he growled, playing with my clit more roughly as his other hand went to my breast, massaging it as he took the nipple of my other breast into his mouth, making me moan in an obscene way.

He let go with his mouth, my brain frying as I once again reached the edge of bliss.

“And you’re mine.” he growled, thrusting hard and hitting that spot, and I let out a scream of ecstasy as he reached it with me, and he pushed his lips to mine, silencing me as we rode out the rest of our orgasms.

When we were done, he gently pulled me off, and I moaned.

“I love you, Angel.” He said, nuzzling my neck and pulling me into a hug.

I sighed in joy, my heart fluttering out of my chest. “And I love you Lordling.”

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tinfairies · 2 years

Note

how yandere aemond would react; daemon; aegon; otto;(optional) vaemond ; (optional) seeing that his dear targaryen or velaryon wife (she has a dragon) tries to take his children (and the eggs or deagons of his children) with her away from him and he confronts her she threatens him saying that she let them go her and her children or she will make her dragon eat it *dracarys* (I love your blog you are an amazing writer 😄)

Aemond was pissed to say the least, not at you of course. He would immediately begin to put blame on your betrayal onto someone else, perhaps his grandfather, perhaps Larys.

He would beg you to stay, on his knees.

You would look down at him with disdain, your children and their one dragon behind you.

The dragon hissed, smelling your emotions.

"Don't make do this. Let me go."

Aemond looked up at you. Tears falling from his eye. "I can't."

You sighed, your heart sinking into your stomach. You looked to your child's dragon.

"Dracarys."

Aegon knew that you two had grown apart. He didn't want a family. You did.

He gave you what you wanted, expecting himself to he able to have what he wants in return. Wine and women.

Years went by, and 2 sons later you were tired of being embarrassed. Tired of servants and nobles alike, looking at you with pity.

"I don't understand, you have what you want!"

The argument began.

"What I want is for you to love me!" you screamed, tears staining your face.

"We never agreed on that!" he would yell back.

"We never agreed on anything! What about your sons? Don't you love them enough to stop embarrassing their mother at least?!"

"Don't bring the boys into this." Aegon looked at you sternly.

"Alright, then I'll bring the boys out of this. Out of this castle and away from you!"

You turned to storm out, and he grabbed your arm roughly.

"Let me go, or I will have Casperion eat you alive." you growled, threatening him with your oldest sons dragon.

"I dare you to try."

Daemon was never around, you were raising your children by yourself. It was at the point where your youngest didn't even recognize her own father.

If Daemon was more concerned with his neices politics then so be it. But you were not going to sit and endure this torture any longer.

You packed several bags for you and your children. You were going back to your parents castle, you could not bare to stay on Dragonstone any longer.

"What are you doing?" Daemon asked as he entered the room.

"Leaving."

"What why, where?" Daemon was confused, he had never seen you unhappy like this. But he was never around to see any of your emotions.

"Do you know what Alyssa asked me last week?" you looked at him with ire. "Do I have a daddy."

Daemon's face fell, he understood.

"I'm sorry, I can take you and the kids with me when I handle politics. Please, I want you to stay." Daemon tried to hold your hands and you pulled away.

"Why? To be drug around and be second best to your neice? No." you shoved more clothes into the suitcase.

"My love, please be reasonable." Daemon pleaded.

"No, I am going to my mother's. If you follow me I will throw Alyssa's dragon egg off the edge of the observation tower. Then she will have no dragon, and no father."

You huffed and turned to leave, Daemon stood their at a loss for words.

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keldae · 1 month

Text

Caretaking

Devi's skillset doesn't lend itself well to domesticity in Waterdeep. And Tara isn't as helpful as she thinks she is.

AO3 link

---

Devi awoke to the sound of a mighty sneeze, one that startled her out of a perfectly nice dream. She startled, her eyes flying open as she looked around her and Gale’s bedroom in his tower, trying to get her heart rate to settle back down. She could just feel the baby in her womb squirm, as though equally disturbed by the loud noise that had awoken its mother.

“Apologies,” she heard Gale’s hoarse voice beside her as the wizard sniffled, sitting up. He immediately flopped back down on his pillow with a little groan, a hand draped across his eyes. “Ugh.”

Her eyes narrowing, Devi rolled over in bed and brushed her fingers over Gale’s bearded cheek. “You sound like shit,” she pronounced. “And you feel warm.”

“I love you too,” Gale wryly croaked out, a moment before he curled in on himself in a coughing fit that made Devi’s chest ache in sympathy. When he regained his breath, he groaned again, seemingly trying to muster up the willpower to sit up again and actually make the effort to get out of bed. “How are you feeling?” he mumbled.

“Surprisingly good, for someone whose husband was snoring all night and keeping her up, even more than his child is,” Devi commented, touching her swollen belly as the baby settled down again. She sat up, frowning as she shifted to stroke her fingers through Gale’s mussed hair, feeling a feverish heat radiating from his brow. “But don’t worry about me, love. You are staying in bed today.”

Gale shook his head and frowned. “That’s not an option,” he protested. “I have lectures to give, and research to do…”

“Do I need to sit on you to make you stay in bed?”

The hand over Gale’s eyes moved, enough for the wizard to give his wife a little glare. “I am an adult, and perfectly capable of making decisions for myself–”

“And I’m your wife, who will yell for Tara to come back me up if you don’t cooperate,” Devi retorted.

Gale’s eyes narrowed. “... You wouldn’t,” he weakly protested.

Devi raised an eyebrow. “Watch me,” she answered.

She knew she won that round when Gale groaned in defeat and sank back into the pillow. “It truly isn’t that bad,” he tried to argue. “I think it’s just the sniffles, love. Hardly the thing to defeat a fully-trained wizard.”

“You’re feverish, coughing up a storm, and congested as all hells,” Devi responded, running her fingers through Gale’s hair again. She felt a little gratified when the wizard closed his eyes and sighed at the gentle motions. “Taking a day or two to rest won’t be the end of the world, darling.”

Gale harrumphed, but couldn’t argue Devi’s point – half because he’d broken into another coughing fit. He finally caught his breath and cracked his eyes open again, giving her the kicked-puppy expression that usually worked so well to weaken Devi’s resolve. “My students will be missing me,” he hoarsely protested. “There’s supposed to be an exam today…”

Devi shook her head in fond exasperation. “Tell you what – if you can cast a spell, with its intended effect happening, I won’t argue if you decide to go to the Academy today, even if I think it’s one of the dumber ideas you’ve had.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Gale croaked. He eyed Devi for a moment, then raised his hand. “ Non movere .”

A handful of pitiful-looking indigo sparks was all that emerged as a result of the spell’s invocation. Devi raised her eyebrow. “Isn’t that supposed to be the Hold Person spell? Because I can still move perfectly freely, love.” She lifted her hand and waggled her fingers at Gale to demonstrate.

“ Non movere, ” Gale tried again. This time, he didn’t even get the sparks from his hand. He groaned in defeat and sagged into the pillow. “I give up. You win, darling.”

Devi offered her ill husband a little smile and leaned down to kiss his hot forehead. “Go back to sleep,” she murmured. “I’ll send a message to the Academy to say that you’re too ill to come in today.” She hesitated, still petting Gale’s hair and feeling him all but melt under her touches. “Do you want me to stay until you’re asleep again?”

Gale nodded and flailed out with his hand to find Devi’s on the bed, clinging to her fingers.

“Okay,” Devi murmured with a little smile, kissing his brow again. “I’ll wait.” She suspected that, with how ill Gale was, she wouldn’t have to wait very long. Indeed, his eyes closed again, his facial muscles relaxing as sleep crept back over him. In less than three minutes, he was snoring, dead to the world.

Shaking her head and wondering why every man she’d ever met had no self-preservation instincts pertaining to illness, Devi kissed Gale’s brow one more time, then carefully slid out of bed, making sure to not wake him up again. The message to the Academy wouldn’t send itself, after all.

---

An hour later saw Devi in the kitchen, frowning at an old recipe book of Gale’s that she had found. This had to be a favourite volume of his, from how many annotations he’d made in the margins of the book over the years and how stained the pages were. Unfortunately, while she knew Gale could translate his own handwriting easily, she had yet to master that particular skill – and these notes were faded with time and use, making them still harder to read.

Tara jumped up on the counter beside Devi, sniffing at the book. “Ahh, yes. One of Mr. Dekarios’ favourites,” she said – if Devi hadn’t known better, she would have thought the tressym sounded approving. “And vegetable soup is a good remedy for human – or half-human – illnesses.”

“He always makes it for me when I don’t feel good – that, or the pumpkin soup,” Devi confirmed. “And it makes me feel better. It can’t hurt to make some for him this time.” She eyed the book for a moment, then stepped into the pantry, fishing onions and carrots and celery out of the baskets Gale kept there. Washing and chopping the vegetables, and putting them in a pot with water, was easy enough to do. Thankful that Gale didn’t have a kitchen that required magic to use anything, like she heard that some wizards had, she set the pot over the flame to simmer. “What else is good in soup?”

Tara’s tail swished as she thought. “In the cool storage, there’s a whole chicken that you could add to the soup,” she said after a moment. “The meat will be good for him.”

Devi wrinkled her nose – chicken was one of those foods that the child in her womb had apparently decided she wouldn’t be eating much of during her pregnancy. Just the thought of the poultry made her stomach churn. But, her ill husband did need the nutrients from the meat; she nodded and turned to the cupboard that Gale had enchanted to be cooler than the rest of the tower, fetching the chicken. “Do I cook the chicken first, or add it raw to the soup?” she asked Tara.

In response, Tara looked at the cookbook, muttering curses about Gale’s handwriting under her breath. “I would think to cook it first,” she finally said. “Humans react poorly to raw poultry, and Mr. Dekarios is already ill enough.”

“Of all the days for Shadowheart to be away,” Devi sighed as she started preparing the chicken, trying to not gag at the feeling of raw meat on her hands. “Gale, it’s a damned good thing I love you,” she muttered.

“If I had thumbs, I would offer to assist you,” Tara commented, watching as Devi prepared the bird. “Don’t forget to add salt and pepper to the chicken before you cook it.”

“I’m on it,” Devi confirmed, adding the seasonings to the chicken skin before she put the bird in its own pot and set it to roast. “Do I need to add anything else to that, do you think?”

Tara tilted her head, her tail swishing again. “I don’t think so?” she said after a moment. “I have watched Mr. Dekarios cook many times, but I have never been involved in the cooking process. Tressyms don’t need their food cooked.”

“And I’ve sat and watched Gale cook enough, you’d think I’d have picked up some of what he knows,” Devi muttered. “But a chicken vegetable soup can’t be too hard, right?”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Tara said. “Provided you don’t burn anything.”

---

Half an hour later, Tara’s nose twitched at the smokey, charred ruin that had once been a chicken. “Did I not say to not burn anything?”

“That’s not half as helpful as you think it is, Tara,” Devi growled, gingerly poking at the chicken. “At least it’s not raw?”

“I suppose,” Tara admitted. “Perhaps it will be salvageable after you scrape off the charring on the outside.”

“The things I do for Gale,” Devi sighed as she started scraping the charred skin away from the chicken. Her stomach roiled threateningly at the smells that assaulted her; she winced and gently touched her swollen belly. “Enough of that,” she said to her unborn child. “Your daddy is sick and needs this, and Tara can’t exactly cook!”

“I have my doubts that you can either,” Tara commented.

Devi scowled at the tressym, then pried one of the legs off the chicken’s body. “Are you fucking joking?” she asked when she saw the still-raw meat under the burnt outer layer of the bird. “I can’t feed Gale this!”

Tara jumped up onto Devi’s shoulders and peered at the chicken. “I’m a little impressed that you managed to both under-cook and burn the same chicken,” she said.

“One of the many talents I have,” Devi deadpanned. Setting the chicken leg down, she stepped over to the first pot and gave it a stir. The vegetables in the broth seemed to be unburnt, for the moment. “So perhaps Gale is getting a plain vegetable soup today without the chicken,” she said. “These, at least, are still edible.”

“I suppose that will be acceptable,” Tara said. “When Mr. Dekarios is feeling better, perhaps you should ask him for cooking lessons.”

“Not the worst idea I’ve heard,” Devi admitted. She gave the soup another stir, making sure none of the vegetables were sticking to the pot. “What other vegetables are good in soup? Maybe potatoes?”

“Potatoes would be a good addition,” Tara mused, her tail flicking from side to side. “Perhaps a courgette as well?”

Devi nodded, then went back to the pantry, returning with a couple of potatoes that she scrubbed clean. Once they were chopped, she carefully added them to the soup pot and gave it another stir before going back for a courgette. As the green vegetable was added to the pot, the former thief gave her creation a contemplative look. “Any other suggestions?”

“Perhaps give it a taste,” Tara suggested.

Turning to the silverware, Devi fetched a spoon, then dipped it into the broth and took a careful sip of the hot liquid. She frowned at the bland flavour. “Salt and pepper,” she said. “Maybe some herbs too. Herbs will help Gale feel better too, right?”

“They should,” Tara confirmed. She jumped off of Devi’s shoulders and started sniffing at Gale’s spice rack. “Ah, curse that boy. I’ve been telling him for almost thirty years that he needs jars that I can pick up and open!”

“I’ll come help you in a moment,” Devi said, picking up the salt and pepper. The pepper, freshly ground as it was, went into the soup easily enough. The salt went in a little easier. “... Ooops.”

Tara looked up. “What now?”

“I, uh, may have put a little too much salt in here?” Devi said. She took another sip of the broth and winced. “It’s… not bland anymore, at least?”

Tsking, Tara shook her head. “Come get some of the herbs, and hopefully those will balance out the salt. Open the jars first so I can smell them.”

Devi stepped over to the spice rack and picked up the first jar Tara pawed at, opening the lid. “Smells nice,” she commented as she peered at the label in Gale’s handwriting. “Basil?”

“Try adding that to the soup,” Tara said. “And this one, and this one.”

“How much?” Devi asked, and saw Tara shrug. “... That’s not helpful.”

“Mr. Dekarios never measures his herbs or spices,” Tara responded. “He says that such things should be measured with your heart.”

“My heart has never cooked a vegetable soup for a sick wizard before,” Devi retorted. She picked up the other jars that Tara had indicated and eyed them before shaking out what she thought was a good amount of each herb into the soup pot. Her next taste test only came back with more of the overly-salty flavour – she frowned, then added more of the herbs, a more generous shake from each jar.

Her next taste wasn’t ‘good’, but at least it wasn’t quite as overpoweringly salty as before.

“How is it?” Tara asked, watching Devi contemplate her spoon.

“... Not great,” Devi admitted. “A pity you don’t have human tastes – you could tell me what’s wrong with this. And I’m not waking Gale up to get his opinion when he needs sleep.”

“Perhaps it just needs more time to simmer?” Tara suggested. “My understanding is that soups take time to properly come together.”

“It can’t hurt,” Devi said after a moment. “Maybe an hour, do you think?”

Tara nodded. “I think that’s a reasonable length of time. Come, let’s see if you can at least make a cup of tea without ruining that too.”

---

An hour later, and Devi was ready to admit that cooking anything required no small amount of magic. Somehow, the vegetables in her soup had managed to burn themselves on the sides of the pot, and the ones that weren't burnt were decidedly mushy. The herbs she had added didn’t do a thing to mask the slightly-burnt flavour of the soup, and she swore the overly-salty flavour had just gotten worse with simmering.

She and Tara looked down into the pot – Devi with a frown, and Tara with her tail swishing. “I’m not sure how to salvage that, if it’s as bad as you say,” the tressym said.

“I don’t think even Gale could salvage this,” Devi sighed. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”

“Because Mr. Dekarios is ill, and you wanted to tend to him?” Tara asked.

Frustrated, Devi poked at the ruined soup with the ladle. “I'm half surprised I didn't melt the ladle on top of everything else,” she grumbled.

“That makes two of us,” Tara said. Ignoring Devi's scowl, she sat on the counter and started grooming herself. “What is your next plan?”

Devi sighed and raked a hand through her hair. “I have no idea,” she muttered. “I'm almost ready to send you to Gale's mother for help with this.” Except that Devi did not want to appear helpless and incompetent in front of Morena Dekarios. Her mother-in-law seemed to like her well enough, but Devi still had a few fragments of her pride left.

Tara looked up from grooming one large wing. “I doubt even Mrs. Dekarios would be able to salvage that soup,” she commented. “Perhaps if we–”

A sneeze interrupted the tressym's thought. Gale shuffled into the kitchen, wrapping his robe around him. “What was that about my mother?” he hoarsely asked.

“You should still be in bed,” Devi murmured, abandoning the pot and its dismal soup to give Gale a gentle hug. “How do you feel?”

“Like a carriage ran over me,” Gale mumbled. He hugged Devi back, resting his cheek on her hair before he looked at the scene before him. “What's this? You were cooking?”

“‘Cooking’ might be too generous a term,” Tara commented. “The best that could be said is that she didn't burn the tower down.”

“Hey, you were no help,” Devi growled at the tressym before she looked up at Gale. “Uhh… I tried cooking. It's… almost edible?”

Gale raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Only almost? I'm sure you aren't giving yourself enough credit, darling.” Letting go of Devi, he shuffled over to the pot; Devi saw his brow furrow as he examined the attempt at soup. Picking up a spoon, he cautiously sipped the broth.

Devi winced as she saw Gale freeze, his face contorting in a grimace that he couldn't quite hide from her. “Oh, gods. I know it's awful – I'm sorry. I tried to follow your recipe, but…”

With an effort, Gale swallowed the mouthful of broth, and gave Devi a smile. “No, love, it's not that bad! It…” He looked at the pot. “It's, uh…”

“It's barely edible,” Devi groaned. “Don't feel like you have to be nice about it, Gale. I know it's terrible.”

“Nonsense! I've had worse.” Gale chuckled and set the spoon down. “Trust me, darling. I've made worse food than that, when I was first learning. I wouldn't call this a culinary masterpiece, but you meant well with this!” He came back to Devi and gently curled his finger under her chin. “It means the world to me that you tried this, even though I know you aren't as comfortable in a kitchen as I am.”

Devi smiled sheepishly at Gale and ran her fingers through his hair. “Well, you felt terrible – I wanted to do something nice for you. And you always take such good care of me when I don't feel good…” She stretched up to kiss his cheek, then eyed the pot. “... But is that even salvageable?”

Gale looked at the pot as well, then ruefully smiled. “The pot itself should be fine, but there's no magic that exists to remove too much salt, or to un-burn food.” As Devi groaned again, he chuckled and wrapped his arms around her again. “If you like, I can teach you how to make a soup properly. I know my notes in the recipe books are hard to read, but I have a few tricks I can teach you.”

“You're still ill, though,” Devi said with a little frown, stroking Gale's forehead. He still felt warm to her touch. “I can't ask you to teach me to cook when you're sick.”

“I'm not so ill that I can't sit at the table with a cup of tea and talk you through cooking, my love,” Gale assured her. “All I ask in repayment is for you to come back to bed with me afterwards for a snuggle.” He winked at her and kissed her forehead. “Does that sound agreeable to you?”

Devi smiled and stretched up to give Gale a light kiss. “That sounds good to me.”

With a little grin, Gale let go of her and sat down at the table. “Now, the first step is to dispose of your earlier attempt at soup–” He looked around, his eyes setting on the burnt chicken carcass that Devi had tried and failed to salvage anything edible from. “Oh, dear. Another attempt on your part?”

Wincing sheepishly, Devi nodded.

Gale ruefully chuckled. “All right. Throw that out too, and we'll try cooking chicken another day, darling.” He watched as Devi disposed of the ruined soup and chicken, then managed to summon the energy to magically clean the pot of its burnt mess. “The base of a good vegetable soup is onion, celery, and carrot…”

#bg3 #bg3 fic #gale x tav #tav x gale #tara the tressym #fluff #gale dekarios #gale #illness #domesticity #bad cooking #listen #Devi tried #and failed miserably #how badly can you fuck up a vegetable soup?#VERY badly if you're Devi #and Tara really isn't that helpful

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redrobin-detective · 2 years

Text

I’ve been kind of brain dead for ideas lately but an old one that I was batting around the other day was, following Jack Drake’s death everyone was scrambling to figure out what to do with Tim. Bruce wanted to adopt him, Dana was going to take him when she was well enough, Dick probably threw his hat into the ring to give the kid options.

Now Tim has this grand scheme to circumvent all this by hiring an actor to portray a made-up uncle but he looks out at the city one night and is Tired. This city stole his peace, bits of his flesh, his friends and now his dad. Suddenly he doesn’t want to live there anymore. He makes a phone call and a few days later, he’s on a bus to Smallville to be fostered by Martha Kent.

Kon was a little surprised at the call but Martha didn’t hesitate to sign those papers. She’d seen the fallout of Tim when his mother died, if no one else would take care of Tim then she would. He arrives with a backpack full of clothes and a U-Haul of computer equipment which he sets up in the back guest room barely leaving room for a bed.

He goes to Smallville High with Conner, eats an early, homemade dinner by Ma who kisses his forehead before he Zetas back to Gotham for patrol. He’s still Robin, still fights and bleeds for Gotham. But he can’t live there, not right now. Bruce is doing his pouty hurt dad routine, Dick thinks he’s trying to make a move on Kon but really Tim is tired of the brutality of the city and wants some peace for once in his life. He Zetas back early in the morning, quietly knocks on Ma’s door so she knows he’s back and heads to bed.

His allergies give him hell in the country but he still insists on helping Kon with chores. Conner laughs at how badly he fumbles through livestock feeding and crop tending and starts working on ways to make it more efficient. He sleeps through class and spars out in the open fields and, when he’s feeling homesick, Kon will fly him real high and drop him and he can pretend like he’s just dived off a skyscraper. Martha reminds him to eat, to sleep, to wash behind his ears and stop looking at gruesome crime scene photos at the dinner table. Tim’s never had a happy, normal family situation. It unnerves him but it soothes him too as he works, really works, on some of his more self-destructive habits. For Ma’s sake. Martha knows this is only temporary, that Tim can’t, won’t, stay away from Gotham forever. But she drapes a blanket over his shoulder where he’s fallen asleep 5 minutes into a movie on the couch and brushes his hair out of his sleep deprived eyes. She loves Bruce like a second son but Tim is her baby now too and she’ll tear B to shreds if he doesn’t properly care for Tim when he returns.

Kon and Tim, who’d been kind of dancing around their feelings for years, are now in an equally strange dynamic of ‘are we brothers now? are you just a bud crashing indefinitely at my house? we come and go from Titans Tower together what does everyone THINK is happening???’ and settle for just doing nothing. They do stay up late on nights Tim isn’t in Gotham talking about bad tv shows and how lame school is and rocket ships and the latest supervillain scandal. As weird as the situation is, Tim looks happier and healthier than he has in ages. Plus it’s kinda rad to have a sleepover with your best friend every night. As far as he is concerned, Tim never has to step foot in Gotham again.

Clark comes back to the farm from a long space mission to find Batman’s latest sidekick typing up a storm typing on a computer with one hand and stirring soup with the other. “Sup,” Tim mumbles as he remains focused on both his tasks. “Sorry, guest room is mine now. I’d offer it up but it’s a pretty tight fit in there with all my gear.” And that’s how he found out his Mom may or may not have legally kidnapped Batman’s sorta maybe I guess not kid from under his nose and he’s Clark’s unofficial little brother. All he knows is Bruce is going to be a nightmare at the next League meeting.

#first thought of this when writing secret robin #when exploring options of where Tim could go #and the idea of him fleeing the city and going to smallville with his best friend #its a bit sweet #Tim loves his city but hes been through a lot and maybe a kid wants some stability #wants a parent who Knows but accepts him weird quirks and all #so long as they don't affect his health #she feeds him cookies and pets his hair and listens to him geek out on music and cold cases #he doesn't think he'll be able to stay away from gotham for long #but right now this is nice #Martha Kent will throw down with Batman to keep Tim safe #Clark is very confused #he calls Tim scamp one time and Tim's like Mr Kent dont do that #anyway yeah weird au thoughts Im thinking again like 4 months later

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stellarboystyles · 9 months

Text

a little something?!

"This is wrong."

He huffs in response, frustrated at the sudden change in morality. Why in the world would she pick NOW to suddenly take the high road?!

"We...we can just wait until after-"

"Does this not feel right to you?" he whips around, the intensity of his eye contact making a sear on the inside of her chest. "Y'just gonna believe anything anyone tells you like it's your own opinion? Of all the shallow people in the world, Violet, I thought I found someone real."

His comment should infuriate her, and it does. But wasting time defending herself in an argument like this solves nothing, he’s just pissed.

He turns around taking a few steps away from her to breathe when she starts in again.

"No! No, that's not what I'm doing."

"I didn't fuckin' ask for this." his index finger jabs his chest twice after storming over to her. "Y'think I did this on purpose? Fell in love with you? Well, I didn't." he throws his hands up in disbelief. "'Cos our lives would be a whole hell of a lot easier if this," he motions between the two of them with his hands. "Wasn't a thing."

She gives a light sigh and a pained expression, but doesn't look at him. She can't.

"If anyone else finds out-"

"They won't." he interrupts. "And if they do, we'll deal with it. I'll deal with it."

He was smoothing her over, she knows. His voice was smooth and calming.

After a situation like this, where so much has happened, you have two options.

Option A, she quits being his stylist. Walks away from everything they've done, everything they've been through. Leaves it all behind to never see him ever again.

Flashbacks of their summer together bleed through her subconscious. Skinny dipping in his pool, finding random places no one else knows about, going on quiet pho dates trying not to be seen, morning sex on the beach.

Or...Option B, she chooses to trust him.

"I know you." he breathes. "I know your heart, your soul."

"So I’m gonna ask you one more time. Do you still want this?"

"Of course I do."

"All I know," he cradles her face in his hands. "Is that this," he leans in, ghosting his lips against hers, barely there. Their chests are pressed together and it takes everything in her not to stumble backwards. "Feels right."

She looks up at him and he kisses her.

It's slow and impassioned, filled with love.

"No one can know-"

He wobbles his head in a jaunty eye roll and a playful smirk. "Until all of this," referencing to the tour. "Is over, I know."

It feels like he's towering over her, but she's in no position to object.

"But if this is wrong?"

His breath on her ear an jaw gives her chills.

"Then I don't want to be right."

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles writings #harry styles smut

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mysteriouslytransparentwitch · 4 months

Text

mini reading english royal family

Charles: energy oracle: we are talking about the current storm which is shaking up his family. We are in a feminine and reflective energy, we want to turn these events into a victory. We are in a state of rest and combativeness. We want to leave something in the past. In conclusion, I have anxiety about community. tarot: we start with the wheel of fortune in a favorable way with the 3 of swords we speak of a healing, we have a very positive behavior on our health. There is a nice evolution on a project. We talk about prayer, I think Charles is praying for Catherine and her son. In conclusion, we have a notion of absurd discussions which annoy. We talk about the tower (another event) about a couple. There is a notion of impasse.

William

oracle of energies: we are talking about communication around healing and a better path and good evolution; yet I have two cards of lies, deception and tied hands and fists. OK, Will & Kate is telling a false story, things are happening (wait for the tarot cards) HE hopes or tries to attract rest and rejuvenation for himself and his wife. tarot : People talk to me about resorting to someone or something (we talk about the hurtful past) there is a search to find a solution with several people. I still have the notion of the rook + 10 of cups reversed = something in motion which ends badly, we have made a decision or we are at the beginning of a reflection, because there was something which did not not been well. We are talking about a health problem that we are still trying to resolve. There is someone who comes to propose an option. We talk about the link with Catherine, we hope that something comes undone!!! to see more clearly and find a solution.

Catherine :

energy: we talk about his life path, we talk about a notion of clarity in your emotions, in your desires, it is in his power of creation, we also talk about a man who feels very in love (it must be william, he must show him a new side).

Interesting, she is in her masculine energies, are we talking about a new teaching?! we talk about patience and anxiety (she is very anxious about the passage of time)

we are returning from a new family dynamic or in the brief, we are talking about internal and external change. We talk a lot about connection with men and women (I think she will create connections at the hospital) So we talk about the door of values closing (normally everything is canceled) I still have a notion of lying and deception.

There is half-open communication. Lots of hope and spirituality for Catherine. We are talking about a dream that is shattered!!!!!!

tarot : we are talking about a renewal between william & catherine, with ace of wands and the queen of coins, we are talking about a construction and the study of something. We're talking about good news, we're talking about a letter from him!!! we speak of recovery of one's vital force. It's an illusion of victory. We're still talking about an emotional bond with a king of swords and teamwork (sorry but it's not clear) We talk about being bound by our lies. There is selfish and financial behavior on the part of a king of coins. There is a negative change. We are talking about a capital increase from a Queen of Wands (Meghan?!)

Prince harry

Interesting, she is in her masculine energies, are we talking about a new teaching?! we talk about patience and anxiety (she is very anxious about the passage of time)

There is half-open communication. Lots of hope and spirituality for Catherine. We are talking about a dream that is shattered!!!!!!

meghan markle :

energy: we are talking about jealousy, being limited in one's movements and having financial problems. We want a change, a renewal. There is a notion of communication, we are talking about a hectic and chaotic love life, but we do not want to leave this link this contract!!! we are leaving someone who has power and money!!! This decision breaks our hearts!!!!

tarot: she sees what is happening around Catherine and she sees it as an act against her (why do the media around the world pay attention to her and not to me!!!) she wants to move forward with her projects. but there are problems that come back with a vengeance for her, she has difficulty finding solutions with several people. We talk about a positive and victorious change, we still talk about the popess (study) but we also talk about feeling alone and ruined, we hope to obtain opportunities. We are trying to find solutions to put an end to the link with the BRF.

we are talking about a judgment and a communication again to tame something, a decision, to counter an emotion of solitude. We talk about destroying and rebirthing a heritage, and a new cycle and increase of capital

#british royal family #brf reading tarot

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dalekinapaintedparadise · 5 months

Text

Stumbled upon a Reddit thread (don't ask) where people still whine and bitch about having to pick the "Nah, fucked that up too," dialogue option at the Oil fields to have a good relationship with Johnny. Saying that it needs to get fixed, calling it 'antagonizing' him, further proving that they don't understand him or his friendship with V at all. Sorry, but what's still not clicking? Holding him accountable for what he did and being honest with him is the only way you can have a good relationship with him for a reason.

It's not scolding him, it's not being mean, it's just V telling him 'No, what you did hurt me and I can't trust you anymore.' And he needs that, he needs someone who won't let him get away with the shit he does, he needs someone who is honest with him and won't just agree with everything he says so that he can grow and change. He knows he royally messed up, but he needs to hear that from V too. How do you expect V to have a true friendship with him if they just let him walk all over them and act like he did nothing wrong and everything's fine?

And it makes sense that the devs chose this as the secret ending unlocker because you can't have them storm Arasaka Tower together in full synergy when some parts of them are still at odds with each other.

Listen, I love Johnny as much as we all do here, but he needs to be called out when he messes up, and that's that.

#johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #silverv #v #v cp2077 #you are allowed to disagree of course #but this is not my headcanon #it's canon #another argument was that it was #not an intuitive option to pick #which i strongly disagree with #since it was the option that felt the most natural to pick #the very first time i played this game #way before i even knew about the secret ending #or how it affected their relationship #so all of those are really shit arguments #that thread annoyed me #sorry for any typos it's almost 4am where i am

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

“Lighthouse keeper, huh?”

Keith watches Shiro’s face carefully, because he’s not sure what to expect. Not anger — Shiro doesn’t do angry, not with Keith — but not exactly excitement, either. He’s not sure.

Shiro sighs, hanging his head. He doesn’t speak or move for several moments, only staring at his clasped ands, jaw set. Keith remains where he is, leaning against the bookshelf covered in stickers placed carefully by six-year old Keith, ugly as sin but impossible for sentimental Shiro to throw out.

Shiro braces his hands on his knees, sighing again as he heaves himself up and walks over to Keith. He cups Keith’s face in his hands and leans their foreheads together.

“Why do you always have to choose the least safe option, huh, kiddo?” His voice is a mix of tired and fond; strained and loving.

Keith shrugs. His hands tighten on Shiro’s shirt. “That’s what you did.”

The remark makes Shiro crack a smile.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Tyrant,” Keith says. The familiar tease — remnant from when Keith was younger and angrier and fought every choice Shiro made for him, regardless of whether it was the right one — makes Shiro huff a laugh, pressing a kiss to Keith’s forehead before pulling away.

“You have to promise to call me every week, okay? At least once. Lighthouses get lonely.”

“Okay,” Keith says quietly.

“And get decent groceries when you go out. Vegetables. Lots of them.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t do anything stupid, like go swimming in an icy ocean at night to chase a cryptid or something.”

Keith smiles a little. “No promises.”

Shiro sighs again, but it’s not as heavy this time. This time there’s an edge of acceptance to it.

“Just — be safe, kiddo. I can’t lose you, too.”

“Okay,” Keith says again, and he means it.

———

Lighthouse keeper. Lighthouse keeper.

What an insane job.

Is Keith qualified for it, technically? No. Not even a little bit. But after a little resume-fudging — okay, a lot of straight-up lying — and a myriad of people refusing to come near the lighthouse they swore was haunted, Keith landed the job.

“Look, it’s kind of isolating, okay?” says the coast guard, pressing a massive ring of keys into his hand. “Like, it’s not a hard job, really, except for during storms. You mostly just get to chill and check on the bulb every once in a while. But it can get…lonely.” She cuts him a sideways glance. “You know the story?”

Vaguely.

Keith shrugs.

“This used to be a real popular port,” she says. “People landing day and night, every day of the year. Used to be people manning the light every second of every day, groups of six or seven living here at once, like one big family. But then we shifted from using coal to using all that renewable shit, and the port stopped being so popular ‘cause there were less ships out to this area. Employees dwindled to just one guy, here by himself, every day of the year for decades.”

She pauses for a moment, drumming her hand on her car door. Keith pretends to be way less intrigued than he is.

“He went mad,” she says quietly. “No wifi or anything in the 60s, you know. Not a damn thing to do. He said he fell in love with the moon. Refused to retire, to resign. Stayed up in that tower until he was way too old to be manning it. Died in one of the storms ‘cause he was just to frail to be out in those elements, y’know? But he wouldn’t leave the damn place behind. People say he never really left — that his ghost haunts the place. That’s why it’s been abandoned for so long.”

She shrugs, somber look melting off her face as quickly as it came. “Well, I’m sure it’s all shit, anyway. You’ll be fine. Good luck!”

Before Keith can so much as utter a single ‘hey, what the fuck’, she ducks into her car, slamming the door and speeding down the gravel driveway.

“Well, goodbye,” Keith mutters, shaking his head and walking down the cobblestone path to the door. “Thanks for that.”

Ghost, huh?

That sure as hell wasn’t on any of the waivers he signed.

He hopes it’s not an angry ghost.

———

Turns out Shirt had nothing to worry about. Keith keeps a radio on him once it gets dark, making his way up to the light when he gets word of a ship coming near, just to make sure everything’s okay. He doesn’t really do much except watch the sea, basically. He supposes he’ll be a lot busier in a giant storm or if something breaks, but as of right now, his biggest trouble is boredom.

And oh, what a trouble it is.

Turns out manning a lighthouse is boring as shit. 24 hours is a lot of goddamn time in the day, and there’s only so many times Keith can scroll through his phone or read a book before he goes insane. It’s almost never worth the gas money to drive into town, and besides he doesn’t know anyone, so mostly he just sits and mopes out the window or skips rocks along the shoreline (his current record is 20 skips in a row, which would be cool as shit of the every second of every day didn’t feel so blah). Even the calls with Shiro are too mundane to pique his interest — his brother’s life isn’t too exciting, either, although talking with Shiro still has its enjoyment.

There is something magical about the stillness of everything, though. Like, yeah, Keith would love it if he could maybe experience something that was even a little interesting, but he’s felt more peace in the past few months than he has his entire life.

(Not that that’s saying much.)

(But, still.)

He particularly likes sitting out on the balcony by the light once the sun has set, watching the stars. It’s gotten warm enough now that he can sit out for hours without getting cold, just watching the stars. He’s so far away from any city that he can see what feels like every star in existence.

The moon, though, is the most breathtaking of anything. Somehow it looks more breathtaking every night. This far out on the coastline Keith can see it with startling clarity, every dip and crater and crevice glowing a soft silver. Sometimes Keith is so captivated by it that he watches it from sunset to sunrise, feeling like barely an hour has passed.

It makes Keith feel a little less lonely, somehow. Like maybe his heart doesn’t hurt so bad.

———

Keith wakes up at two in the afternoon feeling strangely pleased.

It’s not because he slept in, or anything — he usually wakes up at around two, since he’s up all night manning the light — or even that his sleep was particularly restful. He doesn’t know why he feels so…excited? Maybe that’s not the right word. But he goes through the day feeling all floaty, humming as he cleans up his living space and dancing around as he makes food. The air buzzes with anticipation, although for what he’s not sure.

Closer tonight.

Keith freezes.

Huh?

He waits a moment, hands still int the soapy water. What was that? That was a strangely…foreign thought. What’s closer tonight? What does that even mean?

He shakes himself out of his stillness when he realises the water has started to go cold, continuing to scrub the dishes. Whatever. He has weird, intrusive thoughts all the time. It’s nothing new.

Full moon. Closer to Earth.

“Okay, what the fuck.”

Keith drops the dishes, yanking his hands out of the sink and taking a stumbling step back, stopping when he backs into the fridge. His wet hands drip onto the tile floor, steady plop sounds, one for every heavy inhale.

“Okay,” he tells himself, “I am going to dry my hands and then sit down on the couch. I am going to remain still for twenty minutes. If I hear a weird thought again, I am going to freak out. If not, I am going to assume my brain is trying to freak me out to make things more interesting, and I am going to dismiss this entirely.”

Twenty minutes later, when no weird thought occurs, Keith sighs in relief.

God, how bored must he be, for his brain to make up weird voices or whatever? Maybe he should take up another hobby.

Knit, or something.

Can’t hurt.

———

“Did you get lonely a lot, when you were deployed?”

Shiro hums; tinny through the shitty cell reception.

“Yeah, lots. There were a lot of long stretches where I felt like I might be the only person in the world. Made everything feel smaller. Why do you ask? You getting lonely?”

“Just curious,” Keith denies. He pauses a moment.

“Did you ever hear…voices?”

As soon as he says it, he knows he’s fucked up. The comfortable silence between them gets charged immediately, tense, and they may be hundreds of miles apart but Keith can physically feel the concerned look Shiro is sporting.

“Keith, maybe you should call a doc —”

“It’s not me,” Keith says hastily. “I’m just — I read a lot now, right? I don’t have much else to do. And I was reading one of the manuals lying around this place, and it said that if you experience any strange mental symptoms to switch out shifts, but I was just curious about what strange mental symptoms might be, I’m not actually —”

“Okay,” Shiro interrupts. “It’s fine. I believe. Just — stay safe, okay? Don’t be afraid to call for help, to call it quits. We can always figure out what to do next.”

Keith takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair and smiling slightly. No matter what, he can count on Shiro.

“Okay.”

“Good. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you, too.”

———

Keith squints at the sky. He tilts his head, considering, then squints harder.

“Maybe I am going crazy,” he says to himself. He hasn’t heard any weird voices since that one time, but he’s been feeling a lot of weird things in his chest, near his heart. For two weeks the night sky has felt almost…distant? Cold, even. But then he started to feel this growing pull to be outside more and more, the strong desire to stand and stare out at sea during the day, swaying with the waves, and to stare endlessly at the sky at night, drinking in the sights, watching the moon turn through it’s phases. The feeling is almost suffocating, now, like if he’s not outside he’s incapable of breathing. Everything feels so restless during the day, soothed only by the light of the moon.

“Or maybe I’m just dead bored. Who knows.”

———

Finally.

The voice startles him right out of a nap, tumbling off the couch onto a heap on the floor. He blinks himself awake fully, blearily checking his watch. His eyes widen.

“Shit,” he says, scrambling to his bedroom to grab his radio and sprinting up the stairs to the light. He’s late. He doesn’t seem to have missed any calls, thankfully, but still, he needs to be up there in case a ship’s radio is broken and they can’t call, or what if —

He freezes on the top step.

“What the fuck.”

Elbows on the balcony railing, leaning out facing the ocean, is a man. He’s tall, curly brown hair whipping around his angular face in the sea breeze, eyes closed in serenity.

Every part of him, faintly, glows silver.

“Took your sweet time,” he says, not opening his eyes. His voice is strangely familiar.

“What the fuck,” Keith repeats. He’s not sure how else to encompass the pure bewilderment he’s feeling.

Finally the man turns slightly to face him, lips curled in amusement and eyes opening to reveal a deep, dark brown that sparkles faintly in the moonlight.

“You’re supposed to be here when the sun sets, yes?”

Keith hums, nodding his head.

“Yep. I’ve officially gone insane.”

The man laughs, head thrown back and teeth gleaming white.

“Perhaps. Are madmen always so eloquently charming?”

“Figments of my imagination are not allowed to be mocking,” Keith snaps, because if he’s going to go insane it’s going to be on his terms, goddamnit.

“Good thing I have nothing to do with your imagination, then,” the man shoots back easily. He smirks. “You couldn’t come up with something as pretty as me if you tried.”

Keith scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Figures that his brain would cook up a bratty loudmouth with a bright smile to torture him. He’s his own worst enemy.

“I’m going to ignore you,” Keith informs the man. “If I don’t acknowledge you, then my brain will get the message and you’ll disappear.”

The man pouts. “Don’t be so callous. I only have three days, and then I’ll not see you again for a month.”

Keith ignores him. This lighthouse gig is kind of boring, sure, and yeah, he’s a little lonely, but it pays well and includes room and board. There’s not a chance in hell that he’s succumbing to his insanity and returning to fucking retail, or something, no sirree. He’s stubborn. He can wait this out.

The man sighs petulantly. “Of course you’re boring,” he mutters. “The last Moon Guardian got to fall in love with the lightkeeper, and I get someone who can scarcely believe I’m real. How unjust.”

The last lightkeeper… what was it the coast guard had said?

He said he fell in love with the moon…stayed up in that tower until he was too old to be manning it. Died in one of the storms.

“Oh, real original, brain,” he mutters to himself. “Real fuckin’ original, with the Hollywood spooky stuff. I need to stop watching horror movies before bed.”

“Ugh,” the man says, rolling his eyes. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you? I bet you will refuse to even acknowledge me for months or even years. I should have chosen to guard one of Venus’ moons when ‘Llura gave me the chance.”

“Nope,” Keith says, waking to the other side of the balcony. If his brain is going to torment him with ridiculousness, then he is not going to listen.

He’ll just wait it out.

———

For the eight hours of sundown, he manages. He keeps stubbornly away from the hallucination, ignoring the man’s huffing and puffing and muttering, firmly telling himself that he’s just overtired and that he’ll sleep in extra tomorrow morning so this won’t happen again. The very second the sun peeks above the horizon, Keith books it for the staircase, rushing for the door before the hallucination can so much as mutter a word. He runs straight to his bed and sleeps for sixteen straight hours, completely dead to the world. When he wakes, he convinces himself to check the balcony, and is relieved to find the man gone.

“See?” he reassures himself. “Just sleep deprived.”

He believes it all the way until sundown, when he jovially makes the climb up to the light, whistling to himself, only to trail into silence when the man stands there again, smiling smugly at him.

“Good evening,” he says.

Keith throws a book at his face.

———

“I despise you,” the man says nasally, glaring at Keith through bruised eyes.

Keith winces, dabbing blood off the man’s nose as delicately as he can with a damp cloth.

“Sorry,” he says, as genuinely as he can. “I really did think the book was going to go through you. How was I to know that you’re — well, that you’re real?”

“Because I told you!” the man cries. “Thrice!”

Keith huffs, stepping back as the man wrestles the cloth from his hands and starts to wipe the blood off himself. “Well, I said I was sorry, okay? Jesus.”

The man glares at him one more time before sighing. “I suppose I can forgive you.”

“Cool.” Keith shifts awkwardly. “Um, not to be rude, but who the hell are you? Now that I know you’re not my brain, it’s kind of super weird that you’re here.”

“I have many names,” the man says. “Luna, Alqamar, Dal. Moon. But the other Guardians call me Lance, so perhaps that is the name most suitable.”

“Okay,” Keith says, like this isn’t lunacy. “So you’re not just some random dude? You’re, like, the — moon? In the fucking sky?”

“Our spirits are one, yes.”

“Mhm. Great. That cleared up nothing.”

The man — Lance — raises an amused eyebrow. “What more must be made clear to you, Lightkeeper? The Moon and I are one. I am he who guards her, I am her. Is that so confusing?”

“You must know that it is,” Keith says flatly. “Like, up until right this second, I though the moon was a lifeless rock floating in the sky.”

“You’ve never felt the pull?” Lance asks softly. “Your kind has built your culture on her. Every one of you worships her in some way, ever group looks to her with some kind of fondness. You truly did not feel any of her pull, of her power? The power of any of the celestia? Have you not looked up and felt the breath knocked from your lungs?”

“I have,” Keith admits. Lance is right — the moon has always has spirit. Keith just didn’t think it was so literal.

“Good,” Lance says firmly. “There is hope for you yet, Lightkeeper.”

“Keith.”

“Hm?”

“That’s my name,” Keith says awkwardly. “Keith.”

“Oh!” Lance exclaims. He smiles, just as he did the first time Keith saw him, faint silver glow making him appear ethereal. “It’s good to meet you, Keith.”

Keith cracks a smile. This is weird as hell, sure — but didn’t Keith ask for something interesting to happen?

“It’s good to meet you too, Lance.”

———

“A friend?”

“Yep,” Keith says, popping the p. “All by myself and everything.”

“That’s great!” Shiro says enthusiastically. “How did you meet? Is he working for the lighthouse too, or does he work in town?”

“He’s a…traveller,” Keith says hesitantly. “Yeah. Only here three nights of the month, so I let him crash and we hang out.”

It’s as much of a truth as any. Keith has learned over the last few months that Lance can only come to Earth when the moon is closest — when it’s ‘full’.

“Your human denominations make no sense,” Lance argued. “I am always full, I’m just simply not always facing you. What is a ‘new moon’? I never change.”

Keith shrugged. “Do I look like I named the damn phases? People didn’t always get that, man. You looked like a crescent, you were called a crescent. Simple!”

“But you have advanced! You know the truth, now, so why keep the archaic language?”

“Lance. Dude. I am a lighthouse-keeper, and I made up all sorts of shit to get this job. I am not an astronomer.”

“Ugh. Humans perplex me.”

“Okay, mythical being.”

“…but I’m glad you’re not so lonely,” Shiro continues, snapping Keith out of his thoughts. “I was worried for a while there, kiddo.”

Keith snorts. “Thanks, Shiro.”

“Hey, don’t give me that! You have a tendency to get yourself into sticky situations and then make it worse by stubbornly refusing to back out while you can!”

“I do not,” Keith says, lying.

“Mhm, sure, kiddo. And I didn’t have to rescue you from a cult two separate times.”

“Whatever,” Keith says, scowling. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Yeah, yeah, goober.”

As much as Keith hates to admit it, life really does improve between Lance’s visits and Shiro’s calls. Both give him something solid to look forward too, and Lance’s visits especially often give him the element of physical touch that Keith didn’t realise he was missing.

Not that he’ll admit that.

But it’s nice, kind of. Even though Lance’s skin kind of feels like cool marble, and every time they hug it’s like the warmth is leeched out of him.

Not that they hug a lot.

Well, kind of. Lance is a touchy person. Moon Guardian.

Whatever.

———

“How does the guardian thing, like, work? In terms of science?”

Lance shrugs. “I haven’t the faintest clue,” he says easily. “My friend — he’s the Guardian of Phobos — he has a much clearer idea. It has something to do with quintessence, he supposes.”

“Quintessence?”

“Life force. Energy. The pieces that make up atoms.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that had a name.”

“Everything does. That’s why it exists.”

“Huh.” Keith sits with that for a moment. Not that he ever probably could, but he’d love to explain this to Shiro, to watch his nerd brain explode. It would be hilarious. “So do you guys just…spring to life when a new planet it formed, or something?”

“Oh, no,” Lance says, laughing. “I am only…twenty-five rotations around the sun.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? You’re my age?”

“Are you insinuating that I look older?” Lance teases. “Because if that’s the case, I can arrange to have you smited.”

Keith laughs.

Then he gets nervous.

Can Lance have him smited?

“No, no, you look great,” Keith says. Better safe than sorry.

“You look beautiful, really. It definitely makes sense that you’re the moon guardian, y’know? Like, if I had to picture someone who matched the moon, it would be you.”

Well.

That was certainly more than being ‘safe’.

Sometimes, Keith wishes he had even a little bit of a filter.

“You think so?” Lance asks quietly. Shyly.

“Yes,” Keith chokes out, picking a random star and praying to it that his blush fades. “I think so.”

A cold finger curls around his.

“I think you look beautiful, too.”

———

“Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith —”

“Shiro, piss off,” Keith mumbles, reaching blindly for a pillow to smack his brother with. “I’m tired.”

“Well, get up! This only happens thrice a year, and I want to make the most of it!”

Wait. Keith only knows one person — well, ‘person’ — who says thrice unironically, and it’s not Shiro.

“Lance?!” Keith yelps, startling awake. He shoots a confused look to the frankly ecstatic man before him, and then looks, even more confused, out his window. The sun is high in the sky, it can’t be more than noon.

“How are you here?”

“Supermoon!” Lance shouts excitedly. “Every four months, I am as close to Earth as I can possibly be, even closer then what you humans call a ‘full’ moon, and so I can be on Earth a full day cycle! It’s very exciting. I tried to wait for you to wake, but you slept so long. I couldn’t wait any further.”

“Ugh,” Keith groans, flipping back onto the pillows. “It’s early.”

Really, he’s as excited as Lance, but Lance can’t know that.

“Half the day has passed!” Lance argues. There’s a dip in the bed, and it’s Keith’s only warning before there’s suddenly a weight flopped on him.

“Oof.”

“You’re being exceptionally boring,” Lance says, pushing himself up on Keith’s chest to look him closely in the face. “I want to explore the town. I’ve always been too shy to go on my own. Take me, take me, take me!”

Keith fights off a blush, both from their position and Lance’s accidental innuendo.

“Okay,” he says weakly.

Lance cheers, scrambling off him and running out of the room.

“Hurry and get ready! I will try and make us breakfast — I think I understand how to use the stove!”

“Yeah, yeah.” It takes a moment for Lance’s second sentence to sink in. “Wait, Lance, no, stay away from the stove, you don’t know how fire works yet!”

———

Keith is going to collapse into particles. Really. That, or melt into goo on the ground.

It’s just that Lance is so cute.

Sure, he’s always beautiful. Ethereal, really. And he’s funny, and smart, and obviously very fascinating on principle alone.

But watching Lance flutter excitedly through the tiny coastline town, fascinated by every tiny, mundane thing?

Oh, Keith is not going to make it out of this one alive. Seriously. It’s straight out of that one scene in The Little Mermaid, except Lance is a million times more adorable, and knows what a fork is.

“Oh my stars, look at all these things! It’s all ridiculous! There’s no purpose for it! I want one of everything!”

“How do you even — wait,” Keith says, as something occurs to him. “Do you have, like, a house on the moon, or something? How do you store all your shit? Because you clearly have, like, clothes and stuff. And you understand some book references. Is there like a Celestial Guardians neighbourhood, or something…?”

“Oh, everything I have is stored with yours, only on the astral plane,” Lance says dismissively.

“Right. Okay,” Keith says. He pats Lance on the shoulder. “This would be one of those times where you say something that you think is very normal, but is actually batshit insane.”

Lance blinks. “Oh.” He pauses for a moment, tilting his head. “If you don’t know about the astral plane, it might be hard to conceptualise.”

“Let’s grab some food,” Keith suggests. Lance lights up at the suggestion, making Keith smile. Lance loves human food.

Once they’re settled at some random, tourist trap restaurant, Keith pokes Lance in the shoulder.

“Astral plane?” he prompts.

“Right,” Lance says, speaking through his bite of food which should be disgusting but is instead only endearing. “Quintessence is a very finicky thing. It exists and it doesn’t, in more places than are possible. It is, in many ways, the explanation for things that do not make sense.”

“So it’s not a specific material?”

“It is, it’s just also everything else that doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, that’s confusing.”

“Mhm. That’s what’s so fun about it! The most important parts that you need to know, though, is that every physical plane has an inphysical plane, and every single thing on those two planes are entwined on a quintessential level.”

Keith nods. “That means almost nothing to me.”

Lance laughs. “Well, think of you and me, yes? You are a human, a physical being. I am a Guardian of the Moon. I am physical only in certain ways, and only because my quintessence is tied completely with yours. We are mirrors to each other, connections to the two different worlds. Does that make sense?“

Keith stills, fork halfway to his mouth. Because, scientifically — no. Nothing about what Lance said is in any way something Keith can conceptualise.

But, like, on spiritual terms?

“That makes it sound like you’re my soulmate,” Keith says quietly.

“That’s a great way of putting it!” Lance says, smiling brightly. “Our souls are mated, yes. That’s one way of seeing it. Every part of our lives has been linked together from the moment we existed — I exist, as a Guardian, because you exist, because you are my tether to the physical plane — and will continue beyond that. Fascinating, yes?”

Keith nods numbly.

Soulmates.

For the second time since he’s met Lance, Keith thinks back to the coast guard’s story, back to the man who guarded the lighthouse and fell in love with the moon, who never retired, who stayed with the moon until his very end.

It sounds a lot less spooky, now.

———

Lance is still a bundle of energy when they finally head back to the lighthouse, sun beginning to set on the horizon.

“You’re my favourite human I know,” he says, pressing a smacking kiss to Keith’s cheek. “Thank you for taking me to the town.”

“I’m the only human you know,” Keith responds wryly, hyper aware of the spot on his cheek that Lance’s lips just touched.

Soulmates rings in his ears.

They climb the stairs in comfortable silence, lying down on the balcony next to the light and looking up contentedly at the stars.

“It looks far more wondrous on Earth,” Lance says quietly. He smiles. “Most things do.”

“Yeah?” Keith asks, just as quiet. “I would’ve thought you could see more out in space.”

“You can, but there’s something special about being down here.” He turns to face Keith. His smile has turned shy. “With you.”

Keith’s throat goes dry. He takes a deep breath, then reaches out a shaking hand, cupping it around Lance’s cheek. Lance leans into it.

“Lance,” he says, voice surprisingly steady. “Do you know what it means, for humans, to be soulmates?”

“Yes,” Lance whispers. “I was — I know what it means to me, at least. And I know what I hope it means for you.”

Slowly, Keith brushes his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone, back and forth. His skin has started to glow again, in tandem with the moon. It makes the brown of his eyes seem darker.

“What do you hope it means?”

Lance’s gaze flicks down to his lips. “That I am yours.”

“And what about me?”

“What do you want to be?”

“Yours, if you want me.”

Lance smiles, a flash of white in the darkness. “I do. I always have.”

“Always?” The words are barely a whisper, their faces so close together that their breath intermingles, tiny freckles over Lance’s nose shining like mini constellations.

“Yes,” Lance says, and then their lips finally meet, Keith’s eyes fluttering shut as he cradles the face of the Moon carefully in his hands, caresses the coolness of his skin. He breathes in the scent of his soulmate, and he knows he will go just as mad as the lightkeeper before him; desperately in love with the Moon.

Somehow, he doesn’t mind.

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redbullcateringfiction · 9 months

Text

Chapter 6 -

Cantata

Arabella is the executive assistant for Mercedes Team Principal Toto Wolff. 10 years into her career, it looks like the tide is changing, and she's beginning to question her relationship with him. Is it something more, or nothing but an idea lingering in her head?

F/M, Fluff, Boss/Employee Relationship, Romance, Pining, Love, Slow Burn

Sixth chapter below the cut or click here for AO3

Click here for the previous chapter on Tumblr, and click here for a list of all chapters

(Total: 26637 words thus far)

Apologies for the long wait. Life happens, as I'm sure people know.

~redbullcateringfiction

I looked at myself in the mirror. The flight sleeping had taken its toll on me and I certainly looked more tired than I felt. I quickly threw on a light concealer. Just enough to make myself look less tired, but not enough to be wearing an obvious amount of makeup. I pulled my hair up, and then pulled it down, evaluating the two options, when suddenly there was a knock on the door. I opened it just a crack, and there stood Toto.

“Toto, cell phones exist,” I sighed, swinging the door open fully.

“I’m old school. If I can walk a short distance and get an in person conversation, I will,” Toto answered.

“Meh. Fine, what is it?”

“Where did you want to go for dinner so I can set up a reservation?” Toto asked.

“Oh…well there’s some amazing Arabic restaurants here. It’s rarely a food I can enjoy, so I would love it today,” I smiled.

“Excellent. I think there’s one on the pool deck.”

“On the pool deck. In this weather?” I asked.

“How do you mean? It looks a bit dim out, but nothing more than that.”

“Dust storm is coming,” I explained. “Here, come on in.”

“Oh, alright,” He nodded as I opened the door.

“Take a look out the window,” I explained, walking towards the window with him. The floor to ceiling windows provided a perfect opportunity for me to explain.

“There’s no wall of dust on the horizon. Not yet. But those aren’t normal thunder clouds. The sky isn’t dim because the cloud is blocking the sky, and that cloud isn’t brown because the sun is setting. That particular cloud is filled with dust,” I explained. Out on the horizon, you could see the towering, mountainous thundercloud. It was filled with desert sand, and I could only imagine the havoc it was leaving behind it. Here though, it was normal. For Arabs, the desert conditions are the only way life functions.

“Interesting. Will it clear out by tomorrow?” Toto asked.

“No chance. It won’t clear out until at least tomorrow night,” I explained.

“Bad for the track. Bad for the cars. Worse for testing,” Toto sighed learning back.

“Don’t worry. I scheduled a meeting with Aero for tonight.”

“Then we better get dinner now and not later,” Toto said, smiling and turning around. I chuckled.

“I guess that’s the only thing we can do until the meeting.”

“Well, then, there’s another Arabic restaurant on the 5th floor,” I answered.

“Indoors?” Toto asked, walking towards the door. He chuckled at his own joke.

“No, no. It's completely outdoors. In fact, it's actually in the dust storm,” I smiled back.

“So sarcastic,” He mocked, holding the door for me as we walked towards the elevator.

“A celebrity, Arabella?” My aunt asked, as my sister, Farah, took a bite of her hummus. She dipped a cucumber in it with a smirk on her face. She knew very well where this was going.

“I’m not really a celebrity. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we’re better off than most bands but we’re not Def Leppard or anything,” Cathal explained, smiling. I shot him a look. His huge blue eyes looked at me and got giant. I could tell he was desperately searching his brain for what he had done wrong.

“Well if our cousins knew who you were without me even having to say ‘music,’ I’d say you’re a celebrity,” My aunt smiled. The room was quiet. Practically silent, in fact. I watched as my Farah’s husband, Mehdi, brought in another bowl of hummus. My sister had practically devoured the first bowl of hummus. It had been her number one pregnancy craving. At least, that’s what I found out half an hour ago.

“Auntie…he’s just humble I guess,” I smiled.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve definitely got some cockiness,” Cathal chuckled. I shot him another glance. I knew something dumb was about to come out of his mouth. This time the eyes were small and just as searching. He brushed his blonde hair out of his face. It desperately needed to be cut, but he swore it looked good.

“Vanity is a sin,” My aunt answered. “That’s why you should be Muslim.” I watched as Farah nearly spit out her food with laughter. I watched as the reasoning slapped Cathal in the face. He grinned through gritted teeth as my aunt left the room, making her excellent impression.

“I’m…I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Cathal told me, quickly running off. My sister looked at me, and then at her husband before they both burst out in laughter.

“You’ve got some nerve bringing a little white boy who makes music about so many things a strict Muslim aunt hates to Marrakech,” Mehdi snarked.

“Oh, be nice. White boys have always been her type. Since France, at least,” Farah laughed.

“Alright, alright. I get it,” I sighed, putting my head in my hands.

Nour took a seat next to me. My brother.

“You know, the whole boarding school thing isn’t very funny,” Nour said, dipping his carrot into the hummus. “Just because you were the only one to not get shipped off, Farah, doesn’t mean you’re better than us. You’re just the golden child.”

“For a reason,” Farah shrugged. There are 4 of us. Nour is the oldest, 12 years older than me. Then, he’s followed by my brother Chadi, who’s 7 years older than me. Then finally, my sister Farah, only 3 years older than me. And then, there’s me. The youngest. I had barely had a chance to know Chadi and Nour. Nour was already at boarding school by the time I was born. Chadi wouldn’t go till I was 5, but had disappeared all the same one day. Honestly, none of us even really knew where Chadi was or what he was doing. All we knew was that he wasn't dead because Nour would sometimes send pictures of Chadi he had found online or through their mutual friends. The only reason we knew where Nour was, is because he makes a point to show up at holidays completely randomly, with no rhyme or reason. Every time though, he made a point to defend me against Farah and her antics. Too bad there was no tie between us. We hadn’t even met till I was 18. He had apparently been coming home already for 2 years at that point after he graduated from University. But I hadn’t been there.

Farah stood up and left the room, taking her husband and the hummus with her.

“That one’s a raging bitch,” Nour sighed. I watched as he cracked a beer under the table and poured it into an opaque cup. “Do you want one?”

“God, fuck, yes,” I said handing him the cup under the table.

“I’ll do you one better,” He said. I watched as he took out a bottle of vodka and poured a good amount into the cup.

“That’s way more than a shot,” I whispered.

“It’s what you need,” Nour answered. He handed it back to me and I took it right back. He took the cup back and poured the beer into it. As soon as he managed to put the bottles back into his bag, Auntie walked by again.

“That better not be alcohol, Nour. It’s haram,” She ordered him.

“It's not, Auntie. It’s Barbican,” he smiled.

“Good, good,” She nodded as she left the room.

“Cathal seems nice, Bella,” Nour smiled. I cringed at the shortening of my name. However, he barely knew me despite being my brother. I had to forgive him.

“He is. He’s honestly a sweetheart,” I smiled.

“I didn’t say all that. He’s nice,” Nour warned. I narrowed my eyes.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“I personally really like storms, Bella. I like the thunder rolling in. I like the rain pouring down. I like the way the sky grows gray and watching the cars quickly turn on their fastest wipers. I really like storms. I find them nice. Nevertheless, I know that they’re chaotic. I get the sense you also find chaos nice,” Nour explained, taking a sip out of his cup.

“I don’t,” I answered. “I like structure.”

“Really? Or do you like managing chaos?” He asked. Cathal quickly rounded the corner.

“Hi, did I miss anything?” He asked, pulling out his chair.

“Nothing serious,” Nour smiled at him.

I looked at Toto, watching as his eyes scanned the menu. “I don’t eat Arabic food frequently,” He struggled. I couldn’t help but chuckle slightly.

“I’d recommend the chicken machboos. It’s the national dish of Bahrain,” I smiled.

He looked up at me, his eyes finally parting from the menu for the first time since he had gotten it. “Is that what you’re eating?” He asked. I nodded. He took a deep breath and set the menu down. “Then sure, sure.”

We sat there awkwardly for just a moment. While yes, we had developed a friendship over our years of working together, it could never quite outweigh our working relationship. It made it slightly difficult to actually communicate at times like this. That is to say, moments where our working relationship was the reason why we were together, but the event itself was much more casual than one might assume.

“How was the flight for you?” Toto asked.

“Sleepy,” I answered. He smiled.

“I know. You fell asleep so soon after take off. You always get cold so soon before me that I figured if I knew it was cold, you would be shivering when you woke up,” He explained. Quite a few car rides with Toto had featured me pulling on my sweater as he reached to roll down the window. He would always apologize profusely, but seeing him sitting there with sweat pouring down his brow, I would always tell him it was fine to roll the window down. He would hesitate, but I would tell him I was perfectly warm with my sweater.

“So, that’s why you got me a blanket?” I asked.

“I was surprised Bono hadn’t already,” He shrugged.

“I thought it had been him when I woke up,” I answered. While Toto and I generally had very different interpretations of temperature, Bono and I were one in the same. “Was he not cold?”

“No, not really. He hadn’t noticed it,” Toto answered. “But he had on many more layers than you.”

“The same as you?”

“Yes…Is this an interrogation about a decision to get a blanket for my assistant?” Toto asked, raising his eyebrow.

“It’s conversation,” I answered, mocking his earlier shrug.

“No, no. You’re questioning me. You can’t sass your way out of this one, Arabella,” He leaned in.

“I absolutely can, and I will,” I laughed. “I was just curious. Bono is usually cold, and you’re usually warm. It just struck me as strange that Bono didn’t think it was cold. I’m not saying you can’t get me a blanket as I’m knocked out. I’m just saying it’s weird Bono didn’t think it was cold easily an hour before you.”

“Well he was right next to the window. Maybe the sun was keeping him warm,” Toto shrugged.

“Were you not?” I answered.

“Arabella…” He warned. “People can be cold and warm at different times.”

“Alright, alright. Dropping the curiosity.”

He leaned back as I, myself, backed off. I could see the smirk on his face.

“No, no. Now you think you won,” I argued.

“It’s not an argument, Arabella. No winners, no losers,” He laughed.

“Then why the smirk?” I responded.

“Nothing. I smirk.”

“For no reason?”

“Sometimes.”

“Liar.”

He was saved by the bill as the waiter wandered over, bringing with him a tray of vegetables and hummus. We ordered our same dishes and he walked away. I kept my head down, looking at the vegetables I was trying to pick. Just barely within my sight, I could see Toto looking at me still smirking. I could pick my head up and catch him in the act or I could drop it. I’m quite pushy…but I dropped it.

“Besides bullying me, what are you planning to do during testing tomorrow?” Toto asked.

“I’m going to be in the garage with you. Too many people running around, and too much business to handle to be anywhere else,” I answered.

“Ah right. You have your phone off mute so the engineers can harass you into passing around the messages they could easily speak over the headset?” He asked.

“Absolutely not. They’re all on notice. During race weekends, they can only text me if for some reason they can’t find someone, but only if they’ve checked absolutely everywhere. If they haven’t, call them over the headset and see if they respond. Otherwise, fine, I’ll take a look. They’ve probably got themselves on the wrong radio channel.”

“Good, good. I’m surprised they haven’t gotten around to asking you to help with the pit yet, all they ask for,” Toto answered. He brushed his hair around with his hand, trying to get an idea of what it looked like with just his hand. I went into my purse and took out a makeup mirror, and passed it to him.

“There wouldn’t be any time even if they wanted me to. Half the time I’m running around replacing headsets, alerting people of strategy changes that they have yet to notice, and delivering small things I usually carry for myself and you to random people. I’ve lost so many hair ties over the years,” I sighed. “That won’t change. The only thing that will change is the other half of what I usually do. Find people because they don’t want to clog up the headset. But that’s why there’s other radio channels.”

“Perhaps this is my fault,” Toto began, messing with his fingers. “Maybe we shouldn’t be talking about work?”

“Honestly, it’s the only thing going on in my life,” I shrugged. “Not much else for me.”

“Certainly I’m devoted to work, but I also keep a healthy personal life,” Toto stared at me. His eyebrow raised, implying that no actual question was needed.

“I have no children and my family is irritating. I keep to myself. Don’t worry. I enjoy life,” I explained.

“You don’t need children or family to have a personal life. Friendships exist, and they’re quite fulfilling.”

“I know. I just don’t make friends very easily.”

I wish I had just been lying to end the conversation faster, but it was true. I have Bono. I apparently have a lawyer who I didn’t have a very good date with. But I don’t have much else outside of that. Even if I wanted to be generous and call Toto a friend, I would still only have 3. And none of them are women. Don’t get wrong, men and women can be friends. Any other perspective on that is silly. Nonetheless, there is something special about friendship with women. Over the years, I had tastes of it. Just brief fleeting exchanges with drunk girls in bathrooms, or coworkers like Marie who I shared some details with. Never anything longer term or more than amicable. Friendship between women, I had noticed, was so intimate.

I could easily recall my mother’s friends showing up in the evenings on the weekends. Sipping wine while discussing things about their relationships. I learned things about my parents’ relationship that I never would’ve known by pretending to sleep on the floor. My mother would go on, and on, and on about every little thing from the books she read to the bills she paid. Her friends would listen attentively, taking a genuine interest, and then go on about their own similar stories. I would lay there on the floor, and at some point, genuinely fall asleep to their stories.

I had yet to maintain a friendship like that. My relationships with women have often been shallow, and frequently, that was my fault. Most of my friendships have been shallow, actually. I will ignore the request to hang out, or them asking me to lunch. I would rather read a book and never discuss it, keeping the details to myself.

“I doubt that. You’re friendly.”

“Am I?” I raised an eyebrow.

“When you want to be,” He smiled. I laughed at the comment.

“No, no. You’re right though. It’s more the keeping of friends that I struggle with,” I explained. He nodded.

“It's not easy,” He shrugged. I looked at his hands as he again fixed his hair, like a nervous tick. Again, I found myself lingering for too long on his appearance. His dark hair, his darker eyes, his angled smile, and…everything. I felt myself getting hot and quickly looked down at my own hands. How have I gotten here? In this situation? I couldn’t help it, but I also couldn’t ignore it. It’s one thing to know someone’s attractive, and it’s another thing to be attracted. I am attracted to my boss, but thank God I’m smart enough to not act on it. There’s some lines that can’t be crossed, and this is one of them.

“Hot in here?” Toto asked.

“Huh?” I nearly fainted. I wiped my forehead.

“You’re quite red. Here.” He poured a glass of water out of the pitcher for me and I quickly emptied it. I wasn’t red from attraction, I was red from embarrassment. I wasn’t hot from the crush, but from the anxiety of being found out.

“Yes, it’s a little hot,” I groaned.

“And I’m cold. People can be cold and warm at different times. Strange, isn’t it?” He smirked.

“Oh my God,” I sighed, pouring another glass of water for myself. “Did you really just do that?”

“I did, yes. You can’t win every time, Arabella.”

It didn’t happen frequently, but sometimes, Toto would win our minor arguments or discussions. They were always silly conversations, but nevertheless, I didn’t like to lose even the silliest of conversations. So, whenever he managed to just barely one up me enough to collect his own win, it always felt like I had just gone all in and Toto played a royal flush.

“You’re funny,” Toto smirked while staring into my eyes. “I can see those gears turning.”

“No gears. Empty,” I said, tapping my head.

“Empty? Never,” He shook his head. He wasn’t wrong, unfortunately. It is a bit like a hamster on a wheel here.

“If only it were sometimes,” I complained.

“Anxious?” Toto stared at me.

“Always,” I tried to giggle it away. He didn’t seem to receive it well. Damn Austrians and Germans. They joke when they want to and look at you like you’re crazy when you do. I had a desire to explain but I simply shut my mouth and waited for the awkwardness to fizzle out. It didn’t though.

“No, no. Explain,” He waited. “Well, actually, you don’t have to. Just, if there’s anything I can do, explain what it is.”

There is nothing he can do. Nonetheless, I get the sensation that if I say that he won’t believe me. And then if I explain, he’ll feel like he forced it out of me. I don’t mind explaining right now. It feels like finally the somewhat appropriate moment to do so. But nevertheless, I don’t want to. I fiddled with my hands for a moment before opening my mouth.

“I have agoraphobia. I cope with it pretty well, mainly by having this job so I am rarely in a place for too long. If I’m in a place for too long, it starts to feel too similar to home and I have to get out,” I explained. “I just deal with it. No big deal.”

“That seems like a big deal. It literally affects every aspect of your life,” He raised his eyebrow.

“No, it really isn’t. It’s a background thought. The anxiety is too. It’s not something that is destroying my life. I just find it a bit difficult to settle down once I get going.”

“Ah,” He replied. “Does it bother you?”

“No, not really. Like I said, I’ve learned to cope. I’ve learned my methods, and I’m happy with them.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” He affirmed. “You’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”

I watched as the food got brought. It smelled of saffron and immediately gave me a comforting wash of emotions.

“Wait a moment,” Toto interrupted my moment. “Surprise parties. Do you hate those?”

I raised my eyebrow until I realized he was concerned about the agoraphobia and surprise parties.

“No, I quite like them actually. A well planned party is enjoyable no matter how it’s presented. So long as the room isn’t filled to the brim with people, that is,” I laughed. It quickly turned into a chortle. I couldn’t help but find his concern…cute? Adorable? Funny. It was funny. “Wait a moment-”

“No further questions.”

“A surprise party?”

“No further questions, Arabella,” He demanded. “Eat your food. Smells good. Eat it.”

“The audacity of you to think I’ll do as I’m told,” I smirked. Too far, Arabella. Too far. Was that flirty? I was trying to be snarky, but the line is thin. I watched as Toto raised his eyebrows, and then as they settled back down on his face. I felt my heart beat out of my chest as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Trust me, I do not think that,” He answered, leaning in towards me. I watched as he poured more water into my glass. “I know it, in fact.”

“Know what…exactly?”

“Up to you to figure out,” He taunted, taking the first bite of his food. The tension implored me to take the first bite of mine as well. The first bite was delicious but tainted by the sensation of confusion and worry taking me over. All these years of being an adult had just gone out the window. Suddenly, like a middle schooler, I sat trying to analyze his tone and his words. As if I had never learned English and was translating from a dictionary. No, stop. You’re thinking too much, Arabella. I could practically hear Jeffrey in my head laughing at the way I could no longer tell the difference between tension and tension.

“It’s good,” I coughed, pointing at the food, and trying to cut the tension.

“Mmhmm,” He mumbled, pulling the metaphorical rope tighter. I stared back down at my food, and continued to pick at it as I waited for him to jump in. It was his prerogative. He didn’t, like he was relishing the feeling.

“Alright, Toto,” I began. He shot his head up, and made eye contact with me. He might be enjoying the tension, but I am not. I will do what I know how to do best. “The meeting with Aero, it better be at 8pm considering that at 6pm you have a meeting with Lewis’s team and at 7pm you have a meeting with Bottas’s team. These are just about scheduling so they may run short, but I’ll be there to ensure you don’t commit anything silly. Regardless, I hope you didn’t double book yourself. Lewis’s team can be flexible but no later than 7. Then we would have to reschedule with Bottas’s team. And you know they can be much less flexible.”

He stared at me for a second, almost in disbelief. ‘Yes, Toto. Your refusal to end the tension means that you must now discuss work. Yes I have just done that to you,’ I thought.

“I scheduled it for 8:30 since Aero is running around till then. No worries,” He answered.

“Great, I’ll add it to the book. Do you think we can squeeze a strategy meeting between 8 and 8:30? Some of the other engineers can stay through the Aero meeting in case there’s lingering concerns,” I explained.

“Do we need another strategy meeting?” Toto questioned.

“Always,” I answered.

“Fine.”

“Good, let me send out an email,” I smiled, taking out my phone. I quickly typed up to the email, after doing a quick check to make sure that time was free for every team.

“Now that my schedule’s handled-” He began.

“No, oh no. Never is, is it? A few more things,” I blurted, as I began to go over everything for the upcoming weekend.

“Oh, a Mercedes team member?” The man behind me spoke. I turned around. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Yeah, yeah,” I answered, grabbing the coffee as it came ready. It was my own, as I’m certainly no coffee runner. I went to add cream, but paused deciding if I needed, or even wanted it. I had gotten into the habit of drinking it black, but sometimes I desperately wanted something sweet and would find myself adding spoonful after spoonful of sugar. Cream certainly meant I would be adding sugar.

“Engineer?” He asked, waiting for his own coffee to finish brewing. This little room behind the paddock was actually a space for the media, but with a coffee maker and pastries floating around, of course we had all wandered our way into here. It wasn’t particularly nice, but the desire for coffee typically overwhelmed any interest in design.

“Oh. Uh. No,” I shook my head. I closed the lid deciding against the cream.

“Then what?”

“Background things,” I shrugged. “Sorry, nothing really interesting about it.”

“Doubt it. You work for my favorite team,” He laughed.

“Sorry, no really. I don’t do anything interesting,” I smiled. “But uh…if you hang around here a little longer, you’re sure to run into someone interesting.”

“No, no! I think I have. Background things? Like what?” He asked. I sighed, before finally looking him up and down. No pass, no uniform. Did he even work here? How did he get past the gate to this area?

“Sorry to ask. Are you a fan? You shouldn’t be back here,” I explained. I felt a hand come across my shoulder. I turned and saw one of our engineers, Percy.

“Celebrity,” He whispered, before going to pick out a pastry. So, regardless I had to entertain him or risk him calling me or the entire team out in the media for being ‘rude’? Great.

“No, no. I don’t work here. They let me through, though,” The vaguely-familiar-celebrity answered.

“Oh…alright. Well, there goes an engineer. If you want to chat with them,” I gestured towards Percy.

“I can read all about that later. I’m curious about the background stuff now. Sorry, let me introduce myself,” He said, stepping towards me. He reached out his hand. “Cathal. Uh…Lynch.”

“Oh, nice to meet you, Cathal,” I shook his hand. Off the top of my head, his name wasn’t familiar. Matching the name to the face didn’t help at all. I genuinely had no clue who this man was. As many celebrities as I run into back here, I usually recognize them. Him, though? No clue.

“I can see the gears turning in your head. I’m uh…a singer. For a band. Not a big one though. I’m here with the band we’ve been opening for.”

“Oh? What band is that?”

“Blur. They’re performing after the race tonight. Congrats on the win by the way. Lewis’s 3rd right?” He asked.

“Yes, yes. We’re thrilled. It’s uh…it’s nice to have someone on the records.”

“Sitting pretty next to Senna is not something many can claim,” Cathal nodded.

“Precisely.”

“Well, do tell me more about this background work you do. I’m very curious,” He said, finally grabbing his coffee.

“I’m a personal assistant. Really. Just background work, I swear,” I nodded. Maybe he would drop it?

“For a driver? That’s awesome!” He cheered. “Flying around with Lewis Hamilton and Nico Rosberg then?” I suppose I’m not getting out of this then.

“Well yes, but I’m not the driver’s personal assistant. I’m Toto Wolff’s,” I explained.

“That’s even cooler. So you’re really right on the front lines then. You tell the driver’s what to do and keep them in line, huh?” Cathal asked. “No, wait, you must tell Toto what to do then.”

“No, no. No telling anybody what to do. I’m just an assistant. I help to manage the absurdity. Nothing more really.”

“You should get on that then. I bet it’d be awfully fun to tell that German bastard what to do,” Cathal laughed. “Oh, sorry. That’s your boss. I’m sure he’s a real nice bastard.”

“He is,” I laughed back. He’s quite funny isn’t he? And a little cute, I’m tempted to say. The blonde hair, the absolutely gorgeous and huge blue eyes, and a bit boyish in his face. Maybe I don’t really mind him having stopped me. At least he’s attractive. Afterall, I’m 24 and single. Perhaps…no…no way. He’s a celebrity and I’m really nobody.

But as the conversation continued I started ot get the sensation that maybe he wasn’t just interested in my job. Maybe he was interested in me. The way he smiled. The way he leaned in. Eventually, as he watched as I brushed my hair behind my ears and commented on how pretty it was, I felt settled in my feelings. As he put his number in my phone, I felt a little cheerier than I could rationalize. He’s probably just looking for a one night stand for tonight after his show. Nothing more.

Tag list: @daddyslittlevillain, @littleheaven

#f1 2023 #f1 fandom #toto wolff #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #fanfic #formula 1 rpf #oc of color #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff fluff

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five-rivers · 11 months

Text

Life's Great Lie Chapter 18

AO3

Cujo circled. He was a good boy. He was the best boy – that was a fact, his person told him so – but even he had to look for things, and there were a lot of interesting smells in the air. Well, there were always a lot of interesting smells, but the smells today were interesting-er. Along with the flashes of light, the dust, the noise—

There was just a lot going on.

But! That was okay! Cujo liked challenges! Challenges were fun! And he was going to get that stick. He just had to sniff it out, first.

Ah-hah! There it was! All shiny and straight with a rounder, shinier, pointier bit on top. He snatched it up off the broken car it was on (Why was it broken? Who cared?) (Cujo didn’t know this, because he was a dog, but over fifteen pounds of enchanted gold, bronze, and topaz, falling from over a hundred stories, made an impact. Specifically, fifteen pounds impacting at close to two hundred and fifty miles per hour, imparting over six hundred pounds of force – more than enough, considering the narrow profile of the object, to put a significant dent in the roof of a sedan.) and flew up in a spiral pattern.

His person was nearby, yes, but… Where? Usually, it was easier for Cujo to sniff him out, but now… now, there was something obscuring his scent.

Cujo circled the tall building restlessly. Where was his person? Where? Where? It should have been much easier to find his person than it was to find the stick! That’s how things were supposed to go, wasn’t it?

Oh! There! On top of the tall building! It was his person’s friend! Maybe he could play with Cujo!

He zoomed down and deposited the stick in his lap, tail wagging.

“Oh,” said Tucker, staring wide-eyed at the Scarab Scepter, covered, as it was, in green-tinted dog drool, “crap.”

“Oh,” said Pharaoh Duulaman, taking a moment to reward the beast who had retrieved his scepter with a pat on the head, “wonderful.”

Erik Selvig stumbled back into the penthouse, looking for a closet to hide himself in as burning sand from nowhere whipped itself into a storm. He was, to be honest, in shock. How many mind-controlling scepters could there possibly be?

Sam landed lightly on top of the Ops Center, powering down her jet pack momentarily, and propping the bazooka against her shoulder. She was good at using it – no false modesty here – but it required work and attention, and she didn’t want her attention to be split while she was in the air.

“Tucker, is that sandstorm you? Did you get your scepter back, somehow?” She paused. “Tucker?” No response. “Hey, everyone sees that sandstorm, righ—”

There was a huge flash through one of the sand clouds, followed almost instantly by a deep, bone-shaking, ear-splitting rumble. A space whale fell out of the sky, smoking.

“I love storms like this! Keep up the good work, Tucker!”

Sam bit her lip. “If no one is hearing from Tucker, either his phone got wrecked or Duulaman’s got him messed up. So, uh. Be aware of that.” There was, of course, the option that he’d somehow gotten himself killed, and this storm was caused by his ghost somehow (in which case, wow, he’d formed fast), but she was kind of. Not thinking about that option. So.

She frowned. The sandstorm was expanding.

Thor flew through the storm.

He did not often have the opportunity to navigate sandstorms. There were no deserts in Asgard, and that was where he had spent his time for most of his life. But a storm was a storm, and a sandstorm – or a dust storm, for that matter – held lightning in it.

Lightning, through Mjolnir, was his. Storms were his.

And his brother—

He made quick work of the next group of chitauri he encountered, although they had already been injured by the sheer force of the storm. He was getting closer to Stark’s tower, and where the fight with Loki was, but he couldn’t just leave the battle. There were too many enemies.

Something metallic flashed among the sand, and Thor readied a blow, but no. That was no chitauri. But neither was the metal suit a creation of Stark’s. The green fire that burned at its head, and the lights behind its eyes was that of the ghosts.’

“A human? Flying?” asked the creature, its words almost whipped away by the wind. “No. You’re the Asgardian that Phantom’s human friend talked about. Do you know where he is?”

“Phantom?” asked Thor, warily. “Yes. With Loki.”

The creature grinned. “Then what are you waiting for? Lead on!”

Valerie didn’t like this. She didn’t like this at all.

“He’s really not responding? Can we still hear other people?”

“I can sure hear all of you,” said Hawkeye. “It might not mean anything. Storms can mess with comms, sometimes. Focus on what’s in front of you.”

Yeah, but the Fenton’s super ultra ghost comms, or whatever they actually were?

What was in front of them was a legion of aliens they were trying to keep more or less in the air. It was like Galaga, but real. And worse. Because, you know, people were dying. Her weapons weren’t the most effective (unfortunately, the chitauri were firmly alive) so she’d been ferrying people down from damaged buildings, but now she was racing towards Stark Tower.

By the time she’d gotten through the portal, Danny had already disappeared with Loki, but now that they knew where he was, well. She was the only one other than the ghosts with real experience fighting Danny, as crazy as that seemed.

She really did not like the look of that storm.

Tucker was okay, right? They weren’t, like, great friends or anything, but they had dated, sort of, and Valerie didn’t hate him, really.

She dove down into the sandstorm, and the HUD in her visor lit up with red lines, giving her an overlay of where things were supposed to be, based on city plans pulled from the internet. It was risky flying like this, like flying by instruments on a plane. Records weren’t always right. She knew that much from flying in Amity Park, and New York was probably worse, honestly.

But there weren’t any buildings quite as tall as Stark Tower, so her chances of running into a building were slim. Chitauri gliders and Iron Man, on the other hand… Well. It’d probably be fine. This far up, it’d take a while to hit the ground.

Wire-traced lines splayed out below her, showing her an outline of the roof, and she carefully landed near the center, a good way away from the pillar of light that was the portal beam.

“Tucker?” she called.

A bubble of clear, but blisteringly hot air formed on the roof. Her HUD helpfully informed her that the temperature was 101.49°F/38.61°C. At the center stood Tucker in full Egyptian regalia. His eyes were bright, solid red.

“Hello, Valerie Gray.”

It wasn’t a guarantee that the pilots were HYDRA. The chances weren’t even above fifty percent, as far as Coulson’s estimates went, which were, admittedly, based largely on hunches at this stage. Even for him, the amount of research he could do under the present circumstances was… limited. But the odds were still too high to let them sit in those planes.

Especially when the council was ordering Fury to launch a nuke at New York.

Yeah. That wasn’t going to fly.

(Literally.)

So far, both of the pilots had been compliant, but Coulson wasn’t going to relax. He wasn’t missing an ‘until’ at the end of that sentence. He just wasn’t going to relax.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t be happier when there were no longer two potential HYDRA agents walking behind him.

He turned the corner. At the other end of the hallway, Jasper Sitwell and six other agents also turned the corner. He saw the flash of blue characteristic of Phase Two weaponry and his gun was in his hand before his conscious mind processed the connection.

He got off two shots before he was hit. Center of mass. If it had been a conventional bullet, it would have bounced off the Kevlar vest he had on underneath his jacket, but it wasn’t designed to counter Phase Two weaponry. Nothing was. The pilot directly behind him got off one wild shot at Sitwell before the second pilot shot him in the back of his head.

Lying on the ground, Coulson mentally apologized to him. He hadn’t been HYDRA after all. Not that it did either of them any good.

But Coulson was down, not out. He’d kept a grip on his gun, and now he aimed it at the pilot. It was probably too much to hope he was the only HYDRA agent onboard who could fly a plane, but any delay—

He didn’t see if his bullet hit. He’d been shot again.

Loki didn’t seem at all interested in escaping.

They could have escaped. Definitely. Absolutely. It would have been easy to escape, at least temporarily. But Loki was uninterested.

And they kept going for the scepter.

They definitely knew, which was something that had Danny’s heart racing. Well. Racing as much as it ever did.

Unfortunately, the three of them weren’t quite good enough to take the scepter, and Loki’s obvious malingering aside, Danny couldn’t, like, talk to him about it. Talk him into doing something about it, talk him out of doing something about it, whatever. Partially because they were in the middle of a fight (duh), partially because of the influences still acting on him. Boxing him in. Forcing him to fight in the first place.

Mind control sucked.

Really, what he had to hope for at this point was that something would come along that was actually a threat. The Hulk or something. Danny wasn’t sure he could beat the Hulk as a human. Escape him, sure, maybe even trap him, temporarily, but beat him? That was a different thing altogether. Oh! Or maybe Pandora. Pandora was really cool, and maybe mind control could be sucked into her evil-trapping box.

Probably not, but a guy could dream.

He pulled another piece of armor off of Tony Stark, who, mostly unarmed, seemed to decide that discretion was the better part of valor and booked it, sliding over one of the lab tables and disappearing behind a partition. Good for him. Discretion, valor, all that.

The mechanical arms on the ceiling began to move. Danny, not expecting that, failed to dodge and was knocked over a table. Iron Man #2 bore down on him, flinging a prototype Fenton Net with Utra-Grav Weights (patent pending) at him. Unfortunately for Iron Man #2these things didn’t have the same level of protection against Danny as the other weapons. Probably didn’t have time to modify it. Just stuffed whatever could fit into the suit and hoped something would hit. Danny drained its energy and tore it, easily.

Loki, surprisingly, looked like he was having trouble with Black Widow and the mechanical arms. He was probably just faking. But the appearance was enough for Danny, and he grinned as he dropped Mr. Norse God of Mischief through the floor, then tore off his green-stained shirt and dropped through himself.

“You,” said Loki, “are a menace.”

“Thank you,” said Danny. “I try.”

Loki rolled his eyes and handed Danny his jacket. “You look ridiculous without a shirt. You have less muscle than an infant.”

“That’s completely untrue. I’ve got a six pack.” He did. It wasn’t a super well defined six pack and existed more due to lack of body fat than muscle mass, but it did exist. “Unless, like, alien babies are ridiculously ripped.” Which was a possibility. It wasn’t as if Loki had been super forthcoming about, well, anything. Which was incredibly unfair of him. Danny deserved to know more about aliens. Particularly the space-related parts.

A thump from above shook dust off the ceiling. They both looked up.

“Stark does not seem like one to attempt to follow us directly through the floor,” observed Loki.

Danny licked his lips. “You know what it means that they want the scepter.” He cast a sidelong look at Loki. Loki looked… Well, his whole… everything looked really weird without the armored trench-coat-like… thing. The jacket. Whatever. It probably had some kind of fancy Asgardian name that, once again, Danny was not privileged to know.

He wasn’t upset about the relative lack of space-related knowledge he was receiving.

But, to get back to the point, Loki looked awful. Like, he hadn’t looked great before, but now he looked the way Danny felt. Which was bad. In case anyone was wondering. And also reading his thoughts. Which wasn’t super likely, but also not outside of the realm of possibility. And, hey, maybe the part of him that was still sitting out the whole mind-control thing would appreciate the context if it didn’t already have it.

“It means,” said Danny, probably unnecessarily, “that they know.”

There was another thump, a louder one, but now that Danny was paying attention, it didn’t quite seem like it was coming from above—

The next sound was distinctly more crash or explosion like.

“Uh,” said Danny.

“Thor,” said Loki, baring his teeth in something that wasn’t a smile at all. “Perhaps this time, my brother will do me the honor of fighting me in earnest!”

“I don’t think honor is really the right word for that,” said Danny.

His ghost sense went off.

Skulker phased through the ceiling shortly before Thor’s hammer turned it into rubble. Danny managed to get Loki out of the way, but this? This would be difficult. He felt his lips stretching in an approximation of Loki’s expression. Okay. So. He might empathize a little.

And then the sand blew in.

Yep.

Difficult.

“What,” said Tony, “the hell is going on?”

“I think Tucker might have lost control,” said Jazz, “but it’s a little unclear right now.”

“Yeah, I think that might have to do with the sandstorm in my building.” He’d slammed down the lab’s steel blast shields as soon as he realized that the sand was a) razor sharp and b) eating all the glassware in the room, and now he and Romanov were shut in one of the lab’s testing areas. Never say he didn’t give his employees the best. “JARVIS, can you navigate?”

“Yes,” said JARVIS, who was piloting the other suit. The AI’s control over it wasn’t great. They’d done tests – a bunch of tests, Tony had plans – but he hadn’t intended for JARVIS’s first foray into solo-piloting a suit to be such a trial-by-fire. However, a mapped area like the tower, where JARVIS was completely aware of the floorplan, wasn’t the worst place to start. In some ways it would’ve been better for JARVIS to take the Mk. VII, but Tony had known the kid would be able to take that one apart, and one of the two of them had an actual body outside of tech, so… “One moment, Mr. Stark.”

“What do we do now?” asked Romanov.

“Try to see what other systems I can access from here,” said Tony, impatiently tapping through the interface for the mechanical arms. It was the only computer currently installed. “Hope the sandstorm gets taken care of soon. Hope rip-off green and silver me is worth something in a fight and that Thor doesn’t get tricked again. Lots of hope.”

“But not much doing,” pointed out Romanov.

“Maybe one of you can take over as mission control,” said Jazz. “Because we’re going to be hit with the storm soon, and then I’ll be focused on keeping us steady.”

The pilot was relieved when he saw the man he replaced returning. Sure, Agent Coulson had told him not to leave without direct orders from him or Fury, personally, but Coulson wasn’t the one with the World Security Council breathing down his neck. And the conversation with the WSC was getting… progressively more unsettling. If he could call it a conversation. They’d brought up his family several times in what might have been a vaguely threatening way, but, luckily, he hated his family, so he didn’t care if they got their taxes audited or shipped to a black site or whatever conclusion he was supposed to draw from what they were saying.

Point being, he got out as soon as the other man knocked on the cockpit glass. Yes, he’d probably be reprimanded, but he could handle that better than the WSC. Plus, it looked like his usual plane was being loaded up to go fight those aliens, and he was always happier when his bird wasn’t carrying a nuke.

He waved to the pilot in the plane next to him as he went, one of the other replacements. He’d taken his helmet off for some reason, and he looked terrible. Completely white-faced. Must be the kid’s first time sitting on a nuke. Well, hopefully the guy he replaced would be back, soon, too.

“Once I remove these armies, this city shall make a fine capital,” said Duulaman. “Pandora and Frostbite I shall reward handsomely, of course. I invited them. But the others… These insects.” Duulaman paced on the edge of the rooftop. “The sheer insult cannot be borne. I will allow these ‘police’ to live, should they swear allegiance to me.”

Valerie watched him, and the ghost dog padding along next to him, warily. “The police aren’t an army. Technically.” Not that they weren’t full of crap more than half the time, but they weren’t actually an army.

Duulaman waved a hand at her, lazily. “Anything that has to be appended with technically is a lie. Everything will be much better after I fix it. Some of these buildings…”

He pointed, and a nearby skyscraper shimmered into a pyramid, like a mirage. It shimmered back after a second, but the sight still made Valerie’s breath catch in her throat. That was definitely enough of that.

“Tucker,” she said, voice tight. “You’ve got to snap out of it, this isn’t you.”

“I have snapped out of it,” said Duulaman. “This is what I was before. This is what I was always meant to be. And would the people of Earth not prefer a native son to rule in place of a dictator from beyond Great Ra’s furthest reach?” He spread his arms. “I will return to this world the glories of Kemet, that even in ruin and decay are celebrated thousands of years on. I would think you would understand, Valerie Gray. After all, you, too, have wished to return to what you once were.”

“Okay, yeah, I’ve maybe thought about that once or twice,” admitted Valerie, “and what you’re saying does sound cool, but can you do it without the megalomania and the sandstorm of death?”

“You want me to cease my efforts against the invaders?”

“No?” said Valerie. She did not know what the right answer was here. “But, look, I might’ve wanted to go back to the way things were before my dad lost his job, but I’m not that person anymore, obviously. Can you really say you’re the same person you were, what, a thousand years ago?”

Duulaman rolled his eyes. “The next thing to reform will obviously be the educational system.”

The sand was the worst. So was Skulker. And Thor. And Iron Man #2. And Loki, while he was at it. It was all the worst.

But then, that was a good thing. Sort of.

Lightning crackled through the sand cloud as Thor swung at another fake Loki. The resultant impact with the floor sent cracks through the tile and concrete. Danny didn’t have time to pay attention to that, though, because between Skulker and Iron Man #2, there was a lot of stuff flying through the air. Missiles, bullets, knives, those weird repulsor ray things, ectoblasts, more nets, the works.

“What did you say that tin can is using on the teenager?” asked Tony, appalled.

“You shot missiles at him, too,” pointed out Romanov.

Tony stared at her, wide-eyed. “Full of the equivalent of paint, yeah. Aren’t you bothered by this? At all?”

She shrugged. “I started younger.”

“Of course you did.”

All in all, a normal day for Danny. If he’d been in ghost form and not trying to protect Loki at the same time.

He was getting closer to his limit.

The whole fight went through a pair of walls, and Danny hoped that they weren’t breaking anything structural, because to the best of his knowledge, Black Widow and Tony Stark were still up there on the other floor, with minimal protection.

They stopped just short of the next wall, a pane of frosted glass—except the glass wasn’t supposed to be frosted, apparently, and a second after they’d gotten there, even more sand blasted in. The wind sucked at them, creating a sort of vacuum pulling them out. Danny didn’t particularly feel like fighting three people who could fly while falling through the sky, so he anchored himself to the floor with ice. Iron Man #2 (seriously, who was that guy?) promptly tumbled out into the sand and vanished.

He was probably fine. He could fly.

“Sir,” said JARVIS, “I appear to have collided with one of our neighbors.”

“Please tell me you mean a building and not a person who will sue me.”

“I am quite certain people will sue you for this regardless.”

The terrible thing was, JARVIS was probably right.

Thor and Loki grappled momentarily, hammer to scepter, and then Loki twisted, the hammer sliding down, into the floor, with a huge bang that echoed despite the howling of the wind. At the edge of Danny’s ice, the floor fractured, then began to tip outward. Danny took the opportunity to throw Skulker at Thor, who mostly phased through except for when he ran into the hammer, which knocked both of them off balance and half into Loki.

Who promptly fell out of the building.

Danny lunged after him, but Thor caught him by the heel. Danny thanked him by kicking his chin as hard as he could. He’d have to apologize later.

For now…

For now, Loki was way too far down for Danny to catch with the powers he had available in human form, and he had no idea what kind of a height would kill an Asgardian.

(Or whatever Loki was. He was still unclear on that.)

(And, yes, he was still resentful of his lack of alien knowledge.)

(He was never going to let it go. He was going to get a t-shirt that said ‘I spent three days mind controlled by an alien and all I got was this lousy t-shirt and sleep deprivation.’)

(He was pretty sure it was three days, anyway.)

Anyway, point was, his orders were to protect Loki, and the only way to do that right now was to go ghost.

Finally.

Okay. So. Valerie had tried reasoning with her mind-controlled kinda-sorta friend, but the sandstorm was getting bigger, and he was talking about conquering Syria (yikes), Mitanni (where?), and New Jersey (meh), and also making her one of his chief advisors, which was flattering but not really something she wanted, so she was pretty sure now was the time to try something more physical.

She braced herself to move fast, and pulled up the biggest gun she could safely use on a human.

Duulaman countered it easily, batting the blast away with the scepter. He sighed. “Of course. I will have to take care of things here first.”

Next to him, the dog perked up, as if hearing something, then jumped for the scepter.

“Argh!” said Duulaman. “What are you doing?”

Well, Valerie wasn’t a fan of that stupid dog, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth or an ally in a fight in a motivation. She charged her blasters.

Cujo had just sensed his person! His person was here! And since his person’s friend wasn’t playing fetch after all, it was time to get his stick back! Or play keep away! That would be good, too!

Cujo was having a great time, and he was being the best boy!

Danny’s transformation burned through his body like fire through flash paper, a brilliant flare of energy kept contained for too long. The bonds on his mind, designed to control something of this world, something alive, shredded themselves on the crystalline, ethereal geometries that were Phantom as the pieces of himself that were kept separate came back together. Whole again. Free again. Able to choose.

He caught Loki and landed them in an alley that was, at least, somewhat protected from the howling storm. Loki stumbled away from him.

“You caught me,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Well, yeah,” said Danny. “I wasn’t about to let you fall to your death.” He held out his hand. His white glove gleamed moon-bright in the shadows of the alleyway. “You’ve made your point. They’ve come together.”

“Half a dozen men does not an army make,” said Loki, his body between Danny and the staff, “and I—"

“I think there was at least one woman with them. Also, my friends. Tucker. Jazz. Sam. Tucker actually sort of beat you up a little bit, there—”

“Don’t be obtuse, child,” snapped Loki, moving a little further away. There was a glimmer of magic on his skin, and Danny knew they’d be more evenly matched in a fight than either of them would like… at least, without Danny resorting to the kinds of attacks he’d use against his stronger enemies.

“What do you want them to do,” asked Danny, throwing up his hands, “materialize an army out of nowhere in under a week? Well, they did!” Danny jabbed his finger up, where the green line of the ghost portal was still barely visible.

It chose that moment to flicker out into nothing.

The Ops Center had already been struggling, but the moment the sandstorm hit it, everything but emergency controls and communication went down. The wind pushed them sideways, and Jazz struggled to keep the airship upright. By the time she managed something like stability, the ghost portal was long gone.

Sam staggered onto the bridge. She’d stayed out until the last minute.

“The portal?” she asked, managing to get to the copilot’s seat.

“Gone,” said Jazz. She tapped comms. “I’m going to have to set us down, we can’t maintain our position in this.” An alarm – something for envelope integrity – started to go off. “Hawkeye, if you aren’t already off the roof, you need to go now. I won’t be able to see you.” And even if she didn’t like the guy very much, she didn’t want to squish him with the Ops Center.

“Got it,” said Hawkeye. “I’m headed down, now. Hopefully things will be clearer closer to street level.”

Jazz inhaled slowly, and carefully started down.

Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, you want the chitauri here as much as I do.” Which was to say, not at all. “Give me the staff so we can end this.”

“It is my destiny to rule this place. My… my glorious purpose.”

“I don’t believe in destiny,” said Danny, moving closer. After all, if destiny was really a thing, his family and friends would all be dead along with a big chunk of the population of the US. “It sucks and it’s also really uncool.”

“And you think that makes you free of it?”

“Well, yeah. That is how that works, actually. You’re free to choose what to do.”

Loki laughed. “There is no choice. Freedom is life’s great lie.”

“Well, maybe the bigger lie is that you don’t have a choice? Have you thought of that, huh?” Danny gestured emphatically, aware that he was not delivering this argument as eloquently as he could be, but since Loki was regurgitating lines from the night he’d popped out of the Tesseract, he felt like he was winning. “Like, that’d be the real trick, wouldn’t it? A really great lie. Because there’s always a choice. I mean, like, right now, you can choose to keep doing this, and then we’ll fight, and, no offense, but if you haven’t managed to run away under my nose or something, I’m definitely going to beat you up, I have experience with this, or you can choose to stop this and give me the staff. Obviously, I’d prefer you to give me the staff, but, like. It’s a choice.”

Loki stared at him. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m sleep deprived, so, really, this is your fault.”

A sigh came from behind him, and he twisted to see Loki fade out of invisibility. “Now you sound like my father.”

He held out the staff. Danny took it. It felt cold, heavy, and unpleasantly alive in his hand.

“Uh,” he said, lifting off the ground. The portal device was, after all, on the top of the tower. “My condolences about your dad, I guess.”

“He’s still alive,” shouted Loki after him.

“Yeah? So?” Danny shouted back. He didn’t get an answer.

He flew up, faster, faster, as fast as he could go, now, and braked in the middle of a firefight between Tucker and Valerie… and Cujo? Or Duulaman and Valerie. He recognized those red eyes. (And Cujo.)

(Cujo was the best boy, trying to get the staff away from Tucker. So smart! Danny made a mental note to give him lots of treats and pets when this was over.)

Duulaman smiled and tilted the scarab scepter just so. “Hello, Danny.”

“Nope!” Danny zoomed past Tucker/Duulaman in a burst of speed. “I’ve already fulfilled my mind control quota for the year, thanks!” He used shields to push away the sand and flew directly towards the portal device. He would’ve liked to free Tucker on the way, but the portal spewing an alien army had to come first. Every minute it stayed open, more people would die.

(He wondered how many people had died while he talked Loki into giving up the scepter. He wondered how many would have died if they fought, Danny tearing through illusions and Loki running for his chitauri ‘allies.’ He wondered which number would have been bigger.)

He plunged the scepter into the heart of the device, smacking the Tesseract off-center. The device, naturally, didn’t like that, and some whirring part inside it kicked up into a high-pitched scream before the device shut down altogether.

Danny grinned, then turned to face Tucker. That was one problem down. Now he just needed to knock some sense into Tucker and help with the chitauri that were still in the city.

Heh. Just. That really went to show what his week had been like. Thank goodness it was almost over.

“Hill, have you seen Coulson?” asked Fury. Coulson hadn’t been answering his comms, which, given the HYDRA situation, might very well mean that he was dead, but Fury couldn’t just start sending people out to look for him. On the other hand, it was possible Coulson was utilizing alternate methods of communication.

“No,” said Hill. “I—” She cut herself off, fingers flying over her keyboards. “Sir, we have a bird in motion! Anyone on the deck, we have a rogue bird! We need to shut it down! Repeat! Take off is not authorized!”

Fury didn’t waste his breath swearing. He took the emergency route – the one also stocked with emergency weapons – up to the deck.

He didn’t like shooting at his own people, but the fact was, whoever was in that plane wasn’t one of his. He raised the RPG to his shoulder and fired. It hit, sending the plane spinning across the deck, just in time for the second plane to shoot off past Fury.

Reflexively, he drew his gun, but there was nothing a little handgun could do against a fighter jet that was already hundreds of feet away.

There was only one more thing he could do.

#danny phantom #dp/mcu #dp/marvel #op!danny/marvel #life's great lie

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