#On a positive note: now I need Will and Annabel to have a cup of tea while talking about their crush

[blacknedsoul-blog]

Montresor (and Willtresor) is the Bad Ending of the White Raven IV: the saga continues

Okay, now that these chapters have been released I can talk about this issue. I must say that this twist has been just the way I like twists: no, the surprising thing is not that it happened, but that, when you look back, it not only makes sense, it also recontextualizes some little things that stick around.

A person who is not there

There's one thing that's cross-cutting to these four idiots: they're absolutely desperate for someone to look at them. And when you think about it, it kind of makes sense: Lenore has lost the one person who seemed to even slightly care about her and locked up like an animal, Annabel is a hypocrite so terrified of being perceived as crazy that she's a breath away from collapse, Will is the kind of guy who blends in with the walls to such an extent that hardly anyone remembers his face, and Montresor has been seen as an devil since fucking birth.

However, the fine line that separates the Annabel/Will and Lenore/Montresor duo is drawn into something quite complicated: who are on the edge of the abyss and who can't fall any lower.

Both Montresor and Lenore, for different reasons, are trapped in inescapable situations: Montresor will never be anything more than a shit-talking charlatan in anyone's eyes and Lenore will die before she shakes off the label of a madwoman.

Then, they come along. These two people who have not only been able to look them in the eye, they are also people in whom they can see themselves reflected: a weak pushover who can't fend for himself and a lady who is one mental health slip away from being put in a straitjacket.

They have been that person. And their desperate cries for help have never been answered.

But this time may be different. If Lenore and Montresor can save Annabel and Will, in a way, they are also saving themselves. A 50/50 between a selfless motivation and a huge reassertion of one's own ego.

Which leads to the first difference.

Where Lenore offers Annabel a deal on equal terms, a “you and me against the world, baby”; Montresor has with Will a relationship based on subordination: it is he who must take care of Will and, thus, Will is beneath him.

What Annabel and Will understand from the arrangements of this deal are two very different things: where Annabel must live up to the extraordinary person that Lenore is in order to accompany her on equal terms, Will must make sure that he is a weak individual that Montresor can take care of and mistreat in order to feel superior when necessary.

This is not a problem for either of them because there is one little thing that Annabel and Will are able to mold as if it were plasticine: their identity.

Fragmented identities

These scenes have exactly the same purpose.

And I absolutely love them for that.

But let's take them one at a time.

Both Annabel and Will are two invisible people who at least feel like they've been saved by their favorite person. Lenore is Annabel's knight in shining armor and Montresor is the bad boy capable of moving forward despite everything that Will longs for.

They love them. And they need them.

Because Annabel is just a pretty accessory incapable of thinking outside the golden cage she's lived in all her life. And Will is incapable of thinking for himself because he doesn't want to deal with the responsibility of doing so.

So they build this perfect mask to please their special people. A carefully chiseled mask tailored to be loved based on what they believe their special person wants from them.

In both scenes, Annabel and Will have their world fall apart as they realize that the mask they have created for their loved one is not only unwanted, but viewed with disgust and contempt. So the mask slips for an instant to reveal what lies beneath only for their special people. But to very different ends and consequences.

Annabel drops her self-imposed role as unbeatable queen, begins to cry her eyes out, has a panic attack and even -to Lenore's surprise and horror- comes to doubt that she is loved. She is far from living up to the role she should have: she is scared, lonely and, from her reaction, probably doesn't even want to do this.

Of course, Lenore swoops in to comfort her because her beloved damsel in distress is in a vulnerable moment. But all it takes is for Lenore to suggest that Annabel can approach other people for the unbeatable queen to come back: even pushing her to the limit hasn't gotten her to get what's really going on out of her. And after Annabel would rather have Duke and Pluto throw her off a balcony than allow Lenore to reveal herself as a traitor to her friends, it is definite that Lenore has lost this battle: she has already exhausted all her options which have ranged from pleading, to loving words and, in this scene, to verbal violence. The unbeatable queen is in a place where she can't reach her and any future attempts will only succeed in putting the two of them in a more complicated situation.

On the other hand, Will has a small moment of vulnerability with Montresor, giving her this little speech that works as a confession: this confusion about whether he wants him or wants to be him is, as I read in some places, a fairly common situation among gay men. Before he dies, he ends up stealing Montresor a kiss.

But all this has been nothing more than to see his reaction. Because Will is not dead. Not at all.

Although he's put his feelings on the table, he doesn't seem to expect Montresor to return his affection. Just knowing that he cares seems to be enough for the moment, because he plays dumb after it all happens. But Will's made it pretty clear that he is capable of an enormous level of manipulation and that he works with a subtlety that even Annabel couldn't dream of.

Now that they've gotten a peek at what's beneath the masks, Lenore and Montresor find themselves trapped with monsters of their own creation that they are unable to comprehend: Lenore can't even fathom why Annabel continues to do this despite how much she's suffering and Montresor doesn't even know what Will's intentions really are.

Kind of deliciously ironic because didn't Lenore want her partner in crime? Didn't Montresor want his little mutt to fight a little?

Weren't they the ones who wanted to be their number one?

And, as the icing on the cake, they are alone in this, because the monsters they have created only let them get close. Everyone else in the world has been fooled by Annabel and Will's perfect masks, so if they wanted to (or even could) tell anyone about this absolutely no one would believe them.

Even if Lenore wanted to convince her friends that Annabel isn't a homicidal maniac, it's virtually impossible for them to believe her after what happened with Duke. And Montresor can't even begin to explain what Will did.

Love and control

Here I need to stir up the duos a bit.

Montresor and Annabel are not only blonde charlatans with parental problems, they have also learned to relate to the world in terms of control: they protect themselves by moving others around like pieces to get them to do what they want (at least in Nevermore, Annabel in life would not have been able to do these things as far as we know).

Where Annabel puts herself at the center of the board as a queen, Montresor is all about pissing off everyone around him because that's the only way he feels seen.

But they are not the ones with the upper hand in their relationship.

Will and Lenore have demonstrated by actions -we can't be sure in Lenore's case it's a conscious thing- that they are capable of giving all the affection, security, and loyalty if they get what they want from Montresor and Annabel.

It's hard to know what Will wants from Montresor at this point, but he seems quite content for his bad boy to remain his bad boy who has something resembling a soft side to him. In Lenore's case, this waltz between having doki dokis every time Annabel exists around her and being absolutely furious seems to be tied up in her desire to have Annabel by her side: when Annabel plays queen and walks away, pushing Lenore away from whatever is going on; she immediately becomes wary or, at worst, aggressive; but is caring and responsive when Annabel shows a vulnerable side.

This ends up generating a funny situation where the relationship between Montresor and Will is more functional than Lenore and Annabel's because there is one side subordinate to the other: Will has Montresor by the balls, but lets himself be mistreated; while Annabel refuses to put Lenore's desires above the danger they are both in (and even refuses to tell her what the fuck is going on).

Conclusions

Okay, I have to admit that I have been a bit dramatic in some parts of this essay and I have to rectify that so that you are not left with the wrong idea.

The first (and most obvious) thing is that it looks like Annabel is going to get to have honest relationships beyond Lenore. Of course, her friendship with Ada and Prospero can't really begin until the “allies till battle royale do them part” deal is dissolved and she's confronted for putting them both in a sticky situation. That yes, they signed up to be allies of the Machiavellian mastermind, but to Caesar what is Caesar's: no real friendship will form here until those bumps are crossed.

And speaking of Annabel, if there's one person who has a microscopic chance of believing Montresor the fucked up shit Will has done, it's possibly Annabel. My only argument is this:

Like, she doesn't say Will is harmless, she says isolation makes him pliable. And although she is underestimating him and not knows Will is a threat, but maybe she'd be willing to think Montresor isn't crazy if she finds out what happened.

Another point is the conclusion she ended up coming to in all these trials: the line that separates things is drawn on who has their heart in the right place and who doesn't. So, where Montresor is terrified of Will while Will holds a threat over Montresor's head, neither Lenore nor Annabel is afraid that the other might hurt them. And while we don't know what Lenore's feelings are about how she's been treating Annabel in some respects (this for the date I've uploaded this essay), if her face in this scene and the little spoiler that was uploaded to tumblr tell us one thing: It's that the answer is probably guilt. Let's see what comes out of that.

Finally, there's one not too nice thing I'd like to say about when I saw spoilers from the fast pass. Okay, I know this comic is moving at a snail's pace and that while it's been a few days for the characters, this chapter came out like fifty weeks ago. But people, with all my love: I want you to see the difference between Ada and Will's reactions in this scene. Ada is obviously uncomfortable and guilty; while Will has an “upsi” face.

And when Lenore confronts him, Will has the face to complaining that he is scared. He at no point in this confrontation shows a single shred of real remorse.

I know there are people who have been through abusive relationships who have identified with Will and I don't mean to go on to bring that up. But what these scenes raised at the time is that there is something off about this guy, something that should give you a bad feeling because his behavior doesn't fit that of a person who has been forced to do something terrible.

Another thing I've seen someone point out at the time is that Will feels different in his character presentation and has been getting more pathetic as we see him more screen time. We now know that he has been learning how to behave.

Add to that that his reaction is the only one we don't see when it's revealed that there's only a second life available and we only see it when Montresor shakes him. But he doesn't seem particularly affected beyond the chaos that's going on around him.

All these little things keep telling you that there's something wrong with Will. And what Chapter 120 does, is show you what the thing that didn't add up was: what we've been seeing so far is a mask worn by a much more twisted individual and, now that we know that, we can start to figure out who he is and what he really wants.

This, people, is William Willson in all his glory. And Will turns out not to be the protagonist, but the doppelganger tormenting him. I don't remember who said that theory, but: you were absolutely right.

Anyway, this has gotten long. Thank you very much for making it this far.

[lorirwritesfanfic]

Family Matters

Author's note: Forget what I said about only writing fluff for Daphne and Hamid from now on. I’m bringing his mom to the plot. I can’t write her without adding angst. [Leading characters are owned by Pixelberry Studios and original characters are creations of the author] Book: Desire & Decorum (modern day AU) Pairing: Prince Hamid x MC (Daphne) Rating: T Word count: 3096 Summary: Hamid’s deepest wounds reach the surface when Raisa arrives.

It was still dark outside when Daphne woke up. It wasn’t easy to be sure what time it was just by looking at the fogged window. She shifted her position on the bed a little and smiled as strong arms pulled her back, pressing her against a large chiselled torso hidden under designer pyjamas. She caressed her boyfriend's arm and sighed. It was odd to think that both of them managed to spend the whole night on that bed and she was fine, despite the lack of sleep in the last couple days. However, she wasn't sure Hamid could say the same, given how tall he is. I bet he's going to get stiff neck or back pain. Pushing down the covers just enough, she carefully tried to lift one of his arms to get out of the bed.

"Leaving so soon?" Hamid's morning voice rumbled in her ear, making her skin tingle.

"Hey..." She turned around and gave him a quick kiss. "Did I wake you?"

"Yes. Are you trying to run away from me?"

"No. I just want to give you space on the bed so you can rest properly."

He rubbed a hand on one eye and inhaled sharply. "Why are we having this conversation again?"

"Because I'm worried about you. You have a serious ankle injury to recover from and you need to rest."

"So do you. Do you think I don't know you barely slept ten hours in the last three days?" He pointed out. "I'm medicated, I'm well-rested and I don't want you to be concerned about me anymore because I'm following all medical orders. But this goes both ways. I need you to be all right as well."

"I'll be fine, I just want to be sure you're feeling okay," she replied, cupping his cheek.

"I am." Placing his hand atop hers, he kissed her inside part of her wrist. "Now, will you please just stay here and go back to sleep?"

She nodded, then rested her head on his chest as his fingers dug into her hair, massaging her scalp. "Briar told on me to you, didn't she?"

"No. Annabelle did."

"Ann? When did you talk to her?"

"Yesterday, when you went out to have lunch with Sevim and Yusuf while I was watching the game. Though it felt more like a warning with an implied threat."

"Yeah, that sounds like Ann."

The two of them chuckled. Relishing on the warmth of each other's bodies under the covers, the couple soon drifted off once again.

Sunlight brightened up the room when she began to stir up. She could feel Hamid's arms tensing up, holding her protectively as a discussion in hushed tones reached her eyes.

"Bana meydan okuma genç adam!"¹ A contralto voice commanded.

"O zaman hayatımda bir kez karışmayı bırak, anne!"² Her boyfriend hissed.

Anne?! Shit! Daphne looked up at Hamid, then at the elegant woman in her fifties glaring at them and pulled away from his embrace before getting out of the bed, smoothening her hair in the process.

When he reached for her hand, she squeezed it gently. "It's okay," she mouthed to him then turned to his mother. "Raisa hanım³, forgive me for taking the liberty to stay with Hamid last night. I understand you didn't expect to find me here with him, but I only came here to help and I assure you we simply fell asleep watching TV. Nothing happened."

"'Nothing happened?' Do you think this is nothing?" She berated.

"Anne, don't," Hamid warned, scowling at his mother.

Raisa stepped closer to the young lady sizing her up. "Why would you think it's okay for you to stay in bed with my son?"

"Because Daphne is my girlfriend and she can do whatever she wants with me," he snapped, pulling the viscountess closer as he intertwined his fingers with hers.

His mother's eyes burned with rage as she exchanged glares with him.

"I understand if this is too much for you, ma'am, but this is how we show affection to one another." The young lady squared her shoulders, making eye contact.

Raisa shook her head, curling her lips in a scowl as she turned to Hamid. "I knew this line of work wouldn't be good for you. You travel too much, you blend in too easily and you're forgetting your own principles. You're obviously corrupted."

A sudden rush of anger raced into the lady's body. "Excuse me?"

"Anne, enough!" Hamid shouted. "I forbid you to say such things to my girlfriend."

As mother and son glared at each other and began to argue, Daphne's face fell. She couldn't believe this was all her fault. Shaking her head, she put on her boots and made her way to the door in silence.

Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she ambled towards a floor to ceiling window at the end of the hallway and stared at the busy city. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She wished she had woken up five minutes before Raisa arrived. Or that she could have convinced her boyfriend that sleeping on the settee was a better option than giving in to the temptation of staying all night in each other's arms. At that point, anything would be a better option if it meant avoiding a confrontation with his mother.

"I see you've met anne..." Sevim surmised, earning a small nod in response. "I'm sorry about that." She gently placed a hand on Daphne's shoulder. "She has always been overbearing with us, but she's a bit worse with abi⁴. She can't control him. Every now and then they have these fights."

Daphne brushed the tears away and took a deep breath before speaking. "Of all the obstacles I've tried to anticipate, meeting your parents was the one that concerned me the most. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I didn't expect a confrontation."

"I can imagine. But I think you handled herself pretty well back there. Things could have gone worse pretty quickly but you left before. That was smart of you."

"Did you hear the discussion?"

"I was trying to pretend I didn't, but I was curious. Sorry." Sevim scratched the back of her head.

Noticing the similarities between the young girl and Hamid, Daphne chuckled softly. "It's fine..."

"I think anne was out of line but you didn't offend her. That was nice of you."

"I'm not going to lie, I thought about it. But things could have gone worse and this is not what I want. I can't put him against her." She shook her head.

"I know. Anne will come around eventually. She will see how good you are with abi and let you two be happy. Give her time." The girl smiled reassuringly.

"Thanks, Sevim."

"Of course. Now, judging by your face and your clothes, you haven't had time to change clothes or take a shower, have you?"

"No..."

"And the two of them still dare to talk about my lack of hospitality. Ugh..." She rolled eyes. "Come. Let's have breakfast. We can swing by your hotel later." Sevim laced arms her brother's girlfriend, leading her to the elevator.

The sound of the blow-dryer ceased as Daphne put it down and finished styling her hair. Sevim was right. Daphne did feel a little better after taking some time to take care of herself, even if all she could do was use a facial mask during a ten minutes bath. Yet, it seemed like no amount of self-care time could prepare her to face Raisa again.

"Hey, Daphne! Are you okay in there?" Sevim knocked on the door.

"Yes. I'll be out in a sec," the young viscountess shouted. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the door to leave the bathroom.

On the table by the window, Sevim and Yusuf chatted with their phones on their hands, exchanging glances before they turned to Daphne.

"Hey, Yusuf! Good morning!" Daphne smiled at her friend.

He stood up to greet her. "Good morning to you too. You seem a bit better today, more well-rested."

"Yeah... Sort of," Daphne shrugged.

"Hamid asked me to give you this." He fished her phone out his jacket pocket and gave it back to her. "When you left the hospital, you forgot to take it with you."

"Oh..." She received the device with several missed calls, mostly from her boyfriend and a couple from her friends and her father. "Thanks. I was a bit overwhelmed when I left earlier that I didn't realize it wasn't with me until I got here."

"I'm sorry about what happened earlier. Raisa hanım is a bit intense, but she'll see how fortunate Hamid is to be in a relationship with you." He patted her shoulder.

"Thank you."

"I told her she presented herself really well back there. I mean, it's anne we're talking about." Sevim gave him a knowing look as she stood up and sauntered over to them.

"She's right. I've seen her crush many of the people they dated. I remember this poor kid Malak went to a beach party with and Raisa hanım caught them trying to sneak out again. It looked like he was about to confess a crime he didn't even commit." Yusuf chuckled.

"Anne's threatening demeanour can be helpful sometimes. My interpretation of Mother Gothel inspired by anne at the school play was legendary." The girl grinned.

"Wait, that was inspired by your mother?!" Daphne's eyes went wide. "Oh my god, Hamid showed me that performance! You were fantastic!"

"Why thank you!" Sevim mockingly curtsied. "He should've shown you our rewrite of Mother Knows Best. We made a video of our duet when he came over last month."

"Oh, that video is a masterpiece! Hamid could make a living as a Broadway singer if he wanted to," Yusuf guffawed.

"Please... As if I'd ever let him take the spotlight from me," Sevim scoffed.

The three of them laughed when the sound of a message notification pinged on Sevim's and Yusuf's phone.

"Abi has been discharged. We should go back," the girl informed. "But we won't cross paths with anne. She left the hospital earlier."

"Are you ready?" Yusuf asked, placing a hand Daphne's shoulder.

"Yes," the lady replied and grabbed her travel bag.

"Good. Then let's go before abi sends a search party for you again." The young girl rolled eyes and the three of them chuckled as they made their way to the door.

On the lobby, Sevim waited for Daphne to check out of the hotel while Yusuf went outside, carrying her luggage. As the two of them stepped outside the building, two cars with Turkey's flag on the bonnet were parked right in front of them. Recognizing the black one, Daphne walked towards her friend's car when her boyfriend's sister touched her shoulder.

"Not so fast, Daph. We're taking this one."

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "Why?"

"You'll see." Sevim smirked. "Take the passenger's front seat."

"Okay," she replied, still finding the girl's behaviour a little suspicious. As she reached for the handle and opened the door, a familiar face smiled at her. "Hamid?"

"Hello, my lady."

"I thought we're going to pick you up." Her eyebrows went upwards.

"I called in a few favours so I could get discharged earlier and leave the hospital to find my runaway girlfriend," he taunted.

"You did what?" Daphne turned back to Sevim only to see the girl waving from Yusuf's car as he drove into the street. She glowered as her boyfriend waved back to his sister. "What are you even doing behind the wheel? You can't drive! And where's your boot?"

"Yes, I can. What I can't do is make long travels, but the drive to the place I'm taking you is less than fifteen minutes. Besides, this is automatic. And the boot is right there." He pointed to the backseat. "Now, get in. It's cold outside."

Daphne folded her arms.

"Please?"

She pressed her lips together, but climbed into the car, putting her seat belt on and crossing arms again.

"Are you mad at me?" Hamid glanced at her quickly.

She remained in silence, looking out the window.

"Daphne?"

"I'm not talking about it now. Eyes on the road."

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded. Pressing a button on the wheel, he activated voice control system and spoke. "Aşkım müzik listesi."⁵

A Blues song began to play and Daphne's eyes darted to the car stereo screen. As she recognized some of the songs in queue, she gave him a sideways glance and pursed her lips as he replied her glare with a smirk.

Hamid drove into a calmer avenue near the seashore and smiled as Daphne's features softened looking at the mesmerizing view of Bosphorus Strait and the parks along the coast. "I knew you would enjoy the scenic route. It's one of my favourite places here."

"It's stunning," she commented.

Switching lanes, he drove into a parking lot and killed the engine, stopping the car in a spot close to the shore, where people passed by jogging and kids played on the sandbox.

"Why are we stopping here?"

"We need to talk." As she pressed her lips together again, his jaw clenched. "Why are you mad at me? What did I do?"

"'What did you do?' Are you kidding me?" She snapped as she unbuckled her seat belt. "You found a way to get discharged earlier, you're driving and you're not even wearing the boot!" She pointed to his injured ankle without the CAM boot. "Can't you see you're putting yourself at risk again?"

"Daphne, I'm fine. Nothing happened."

"But it could have!" Her eyes welled up. "You can't bend the rules all the time just because you want to. You broke two bones in your ankle. You hit your head on a tree and you were unconscious for two minutes! Do you know how dangerous that accident could have been?"

He unbuckled his seat belt and reached for face, brushing away her tears.

"I almost lost you, Hamid. I can't go through that again," she sobbed.

He draped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. "You won't lose me." he murmured.

"Please, don't drive around the city every time you feel like it. You have a long way until your ankle is fully recovered." Sshe sniffed and looked up at him.

"I'm sorry, aşkım. I'll do my best tone down my impulsiveness. I promise," he answered, kissing the top of her head.

"Thank you," she replied.

"And I thought I was going to apologise for the fight with my mother earlier." He ran his fingers through her hair absentmindedly.

"Why? That wasn't your fault. You got into a fight because of me."

"Daphne, that fight wasn't about you. Obviously, my mother knows exactly what to say so you would think it was your fault and make you believe everything would be fine if we weren't dating." He shook his head, gritting his teeth.

"How come?"

"I was bumped heads with anne. When I was a kid, I did it to get her attention. It was fun to have her chasing me around in front of everyone." A hint of a smile played on his lips. "But when I grew up, I wanted to follow my father's footsteps and see the world. So I pursued the same career he did. She didn't like it. To her, I could do so much more if I went to Law school. She said it would open my eyes to many possibilities."

"So you applied to Cambridge Law," she concluded.

He nodded. "In the beginning, I did it to please her. But she was right. There were so many things I could do with a law degree. I was fascinated by what I learned and what I could do to help people. And it brought me closer to her. After graduation, she thought it would be a good idea having me working for her and so I could take over the family law firm while she studied for her exams to become a prosecutor. It was a nightmare."

"You started arguing again."

"Every single day. Every little thing became a reason to fight. She wanted to control every step took in my career and in my personal life. And I couldn't even go home and forget about work because I lived under the same roof my boss did."

"How long did you work for her?"

"Six months. After I quit, we barely talked to each other, so babam⁶ invited me to travel with him to China. That's when I fell in love with international relations again."

"Did your relationship with Raisa get better?"

"Yeah. She wasn't and still isn't happy to see me spending so much time away from home and disapproves many of my choices, including anyone with whom I may have any sort of relationship, but it definitely got better." He looked out the calm waters of the sea for a brief moment. "If I knew I could've avoided all those fights doing what I always wanted to do in the first place, I wouldn't have worked for her." He smiled ruefully.

"You didn't know, Hamidciğim. You just wanted to be close to her. But some people we love don't understand us." She cupped his face, stroking her thumb on his cheekbone.

"This sounds familiar, huh?" He gave her a knowing look.

"Way too familiar." She made a face.

He chuckled softly. "I'm still sorry you had to witness that fight. This is why you can't blame yourself for what happened this morning. It was not about you. The same way that fight you had with your grandmother wasn't about me."

"I guess you're right," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "What are we going to do about them?"

"I don't know. But since we're on the same boat, we could find out together."

"Sounds good to me." Daphne smiled and closed the distance between them, kissing him softly. "It's so unfortunate we're in public and I can't kiss you properly," she uttered between kisses.

"Perhaps it's time for us to go home then," he whispered as the corners of his mouth curled up.

"I second that." She beamed.

"Does it mean you're not running away from me for the third time today?" He teased.

"I did not run away! Stop it!" She pushed him playfully.

He laughed, pulling her close to kiss her temple before both of them buckled up again and he started the car, driving back into the avenue.

_______

¹  Don't defy me, young man! 

² Then stop meddling in my life for once, mother!

³ Mrs Raisa

⁴ Brother

⁵ My love's playlist

⁶ Dad

[krreader]

BTS scenario → you as their sister (pre-debut).

pairing: bts x sister!reader (platonic) fandom: bts warnings: non idol!au ; language genre: fluff

a/n: I always wanted to write a sister!reader version in which the members are just normal kids/people. so thank you for the request bb! (also, let’s ignore the timeline for my sake, ok? I know tom holland wasn’t spiderman yet when they debuted lol, but I’m biased and I’m making it so obvious lol)

ask box | masterlists | faq | twitter | ko-fi | REQUESTS ARE CLOSED.

kim seokjin

“You have such nice and well behaved kids, Kim,” your boss said to your father, Jin, your brother and you all smiling and bowing, “You raised them well.”

You three acted like you were the most wonderful kids a father could ask for.

But once you were in the car back home? You revealed your true colors.

“No, give me..- Dad! Jin stole my headphones again!”

“They're my headphones! You stole them from me first!” Jin argued, “And besides, they look better on me anyways.”

Your father sighed, trying to ignore the ruckus that was going on in the back because he knew it would pass in a few minutes anyways.

It was always like this between you two, has been ever since you were born.

You bickered, you fought, you pulled the hair of the other one, but in the end you still loved each other unconditionally.

In the end you fell asleep against Jin's shoulder, your older brother putting a blanket over the both of you, since Jin seemed to be asleep as well from the way he was almost drooling.

“We should record this and show them how close they are when they're asleep,” your brother chuckled, to which your father could only nod and smile as well.

min yoongi

“Happy birthday, son,” your parents had bought Yoongi weird stuff that you knew he would never use. They've been doing this ever since he was a kid, because they thought they might be able to make him be interested in other things than music.

As always, Yoongi said thank you and was kind, but you knew deep down that he just wanted to be left alone again.

“Okay, okay, I'm the last one,” you gave him your present with a grin, “It's something you and I talked about a few weeks ago.. something you really wanted.”

The only thing he could remember was equipment for his own studio that he was trying to assemble.

“You didn't..-” he quickly unwrapped it, only to find..- “A doll? A fucking.. Annabelle doll?”

“Yeah, so it'll remind you of her when she's gone,” your other brother laughed, but that stopped when you threw a pillow against his head. Hard.

And while you and him started fighting and your parents desperately tried to get you two to stop before one could kill the other, Yoongi returned to his room with slight disappointment.

He had thought you might have remembered him saying it..

But as he walked into his bedroom he found that same item lying on his desk with a note: “I know mom and dad don't like it when you buy new stuff for your studio so I didn't want them to see it. Put it to good use, brother. You're the best thing this family can show off. I'm proud of you. Always.”

A big smile spread across his face.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

jung hoseok

“Mom and dad told me you don't want to eat,” Hoseok walked into your bedroom with two cups of Ramen, “So I thought we could eat Junk Food and you could tell me what's going on.”

You wiped away your tears with your sleeve and slid to the edge of the bed, immediately wrapping your arms around his arm to hug his side.

“He's not interested in me.. he told one of his friends who told one of my friends that he's interested in someone else.”

Hoseok should have known that this was about a guy.

He sighed deeply and put the cups down, before wrapping an arm around you, “(Y/N), guys who you need to chase after are not guys that are worth it. You are kind, smart, beautiful and you don't need to go after a guy that clearly doesn't see any of that. You deserve better than that..”

“But all of my friends have boyfriends or girlfriends.. I'm the only one who doesn't.”

“So what? You're still young and even if you never have a boyfriend or girlfriend, that's okay too. You do not need a partner to be happy, sweetheart. You're enough of a person to love yourself and be happy with yourself. And let's be real.. with me as a brother, you have your hands full anyways.”

That made you choke out a laugh, cuddle closer into his side and let out a sigh, because you knew he was right.. he was always right.

kim namjoon

“This is so boring,” you whined, your parents shushing you since they wanted to listen to what the tour guide had to say.

Namjoon laughed, unfolding the map in his hands and walking closer to you.

“Want me to give you a tour? I can explain it all to you too.”

“Oh god, yes please,” you wrapped your hands around his arm, ready for your smart brother to enlighten you in a positive way, “Tell me something interesting.”

“Well, someone died here a few years ago from a terrible, terrible curse..”

You narrowed your eyes at him and cocked your head to the side, “Your horror stories scared me when I was five, Namjoon. Not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” your sister snuck up on you and pinched your sides which made you scream and jump, your parents shushing you once again.

“Oh, I hate you! I hate you both! Mom, Dad! They're being mean to me again!” you ran up to your parents, your mother scolding you for being so loud, but Namjoon and your sister just chuckled.

“She'll never grow up, right?” your sister asked.

“Not really. She’ll always stay our little angel,” Namjoon said with a fond smile.

park jimin

“Listen, Jimin,” you opened the door without knocking, finding him sweating, standing in the middle of the room, “I love you and I support you with your dreams, but if you don't turn that fucking music down, I will literally kill you.”

“The competition is in two months, (Y/N). I need to practice.”

“You've been practicing for three months straight. And you're not the only one who needs to do work in this household, I have homework to do as well.”

“No you don't, I know you finished earlier today,” he wiped off his sweat with a towel, “You just want to watch Spiderman again.”

“Listen to me, Tom Holland is superior, okay?!” you pointed your finger at him, but Jimin just laughed and walked over to you, hugging you despite your protest.

“Ew, you're disgusting, get away from me.”

“I love you, sis. And don't worry, I'll take a shower and get some rest for today, okay?”

“Fine,” you watched him walk towards the bathroom and right before he entered you asked: “Want me to pause the movie?”

“You know I do.”

You grinned from ear to ear, sprinting back into your bedroom to wait for your brother.

kim taehyung

You were on family vacation, your parents already asleep, the only ones up being you and Taehyung, since your brother and sister had already fallen asleep on the couch next to you.

But you didn't dare to sleep.

Because that horror movie that was on would keep you awake for the next ten years.

“You should have said you didn't want to watch it, (Y/N),” Taehyung chuckled as he wrapped his arm around you to give you comfort.

“Then they would have made fun of me,” you poked your sister's side with your foot who just snorted once and then made herself more comfortable.

“But they're asleep now. We can watch a Disney movie if you want..”

“No, it's okay,” you tried to stay strong and be brave, but those jump scares were getting the best of you and without taking no for an answer, Tae just switched the movie to a Disney one.

And when he found you smiling happily a few minutes later, he knew he had made the right decision.

“Never change, (Y/N),” he kissed the top of your head.

jeon jeongguk

“I'll kill you for this, (Y/N).”

Your parents were out to have their date night, your older brother staying at a friends' place, so it was only Jeongguk and you. And while your parents had specifically told you NOT to go out and do anything stupid, that's exactly what you had been doing.

There was a festival in town and you were dying for some cotton candy and roller coasters. And Jeongguk would rather be in trouble than let you go there on your own.

However, now that you were on your way back, he was getting nervous, thinking his parents were probably already back home and would notice you were gone.

“Stop being such a pussy and just hurry up if you want to be home before mom and dad,” you weren't running, but you were walking fast, your brother right beside you.

“We could have played video games, could have ordered food, but no, Ms. 'I want to get in trouble' had to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night.”

“I didn't ask you to follow me, Kookie, you did that all by yourself.”

“Well, what the hell was I supposed to do, huh? You were clearly..-”

But as you arrived at the front door, your parents were already standing there, both of their arms crossed in front of their chests with disapproving looks on their faces.

And then you had the audacity to point at your brother and say with a pout, “It was Jeongguk's idea.”

“You little..-”

[shining-red-diamond]

Halloween Surprise*

Word count: 1.5k

Pairing: Taeyong x Savannah (OC)

Rating: SFW

Warnings: mentions of vomiting

A/N: Bolded words mean they’re speaking in Korean or Chinese, depending on the couple.

October 31, 2018. 7:21PM

The event was decorated extravagantly for the holiday, giving the atmosphere a spooky and exciting vibe. All of the SM artists attending were dressed as various characters and inanimate objects of pop culture. Some groups under the label were all assigned seats along with those who had significant other’s who joined them as dates.

This wasn’t the first SM Halloween party Savannah and Taeyong attended, but it was their first one as a married couple. He had dressed up as Syaoran from Cardcaptor Sakura, and she was dressed as Sailor Mars from Sailor Moon. Savannah had a friend who was a seamstress and was able to take the time to make her costume, resembling each aspect down to the last detail. She brought her costume with her to the SM building to get ready with the other girls in a separate room from the men. All day, the two had been ecstatic to have a fun evening with their friends after a relaxing honeymoon in Bali; and the moment Taeyong saw his new bride step out in her costume, he couldn’t help but smile widely and chuckle with his cheeks turning pink as cherry blossoms. Savannah even beamed at how adorable her husband looked, contrasting the handsome groom aesthetic he had sported over the last two weeks. It wasn’t that she didn’t swoon over him looking finer than a prince on their wedding day, but there were times where she swooned over his softer side. He has such a strong presence that it was easy to forget what a sweetheart he actually was.

However, Savannah had been feeling nauseated in the mornings over the past week or so. She thought she might have eaten something bad while in Bali, but she would have already been sick and over it while they were there. Fever was out of the question, because she never felt any flu symptoms despite it being cold and flu season. Her period was also five days late. Relief swept over her when she didn’t feel sick that morning, but she did come to one last conclusion that could explain her symptoms. The night before preparing for the party, Savannah went out and bought two pregnancy tests before Taeyong got home after practice that evening. She had a talent at hiding things, so she was successful in concealing the two tests from her husband.

Once he had left, Savannah took them, and both tests came back positive. She was pregnant. She was going to be a mom. There was a human forming inside her. Overwhelmed with happiness, she cried tears of joy before she had to get ready for the day.

Now, at the party, everyone else could tell Mrs. Lee Taeyong was over the moon about something, but they guessed it was because she had just married the man she loved and was happy. Little did they know, Savannah had something else life changing to tell, but she wasn’t planning to tell anyone until she told Taeyong.

Throughout the event, Savannah chatted with almost everyone there and took in the other couples’ costumes. There were a few who coupled up, some who grouped up, and a few who were independent with their costumes. Alice, Carrie, and Ivy were dressed as the Powerpuff Girls, Yuta and Nana were Snow White and the witch, Renjun and Violet were Peter Pan and Wendy, and Lucas and Sydni were Thor and Black Widow. Maggie came as a glamorous, white cat, Yoori dressed as a magical unicorn, and Megan cosplayed Ms. Frizzle. Lanying showed up as Annabelle, and her scar added the creepy effect to her costume.

“I’m surprised you didn’t dress up as Rose,” Savannah said, taking note of Alexis’s biker babe version of the Queen of Hearts. “You look amazing, but I thought you and Jaehyun had something planned this year.”

Alexis chuckled and shook her head. “Nah, he and Jungwoo wanted to do it as a joke, but he ended up putting every beauty queen out there out of business. I’m just rollin’ with it.”

“Well, you look beautiful, regardless.”

“You have got to be the prettiest Sailor Mars here,” Seulgi spoke up. She was dressed as a vampire, her dyed blonde locks bringing the look together.

“Thank you,” Savannah smiled. “I need to remember to repay my friend back for making it for me.”

“Give her my regards. She’s talented.” She leaned into her friend’s ear. “And maybe have her make costumes for my groups’ next comeback.”

The two giggled.

“Well, maybe I ca-“It hit her. The nausea she thought had subsided for today had returned to torment her again. She felt that snacks she had devoured earlier rise back up.

“Are you okay?” Alexis asked in concern.

An awful taste coated the inside of Savannah’s mouth. She wasn’t about to vomit in the middle of the party, so she dashed out the room into the nearest women’s restroom. Flinging open the first stall door, she fell onto her knees and everything she had eaten that day was released from her mouth into the toilet bowl.

A pair of hands held her hair back. “Just let it out. I’m right here.” Seulgi.

Once Savannah had finished puking her guts out, she flushed the toilet, sat on the floor, and her friend gave her a paper towel to wipe her mouth.

“How does one get sick all of a sudden?” Seulgi asked as she knelt by her.

“I don’t have a fever,” she weakly responded after cleaning around her mouth. “And it’s not food poisoning.”

Seulgi stared blankly at her friend before the realization hit her. She gasped as her eyes grew wide. Her hand covered her mouth in shock.

“Are you-?”

Savannah nodded. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my gosh!” Seulgi threw her arms around Savannah in glee. “Does Taeyong know? Savannah, I’m so happy for you.”

“Not yet. I wanted him to be the first to know.”

Seulgi pulled away. “I’ll act surprised.”

“Thank you.”

“Savannah,” Taeyong’s voice sounded from the doorway.

“I’m coming, honey,” she called back. Seulgi helped her up, and Savannah tossed the paper towel in the garbage can. The two women exited the restroom, meeting a worried Taeyong at the door.

“Thank you for checking on her,” he said to Seulgi before she walked back towards the party. He faced his wife again, his hands cupping her face. “Are you okay?”

Savannah nodded.

“You had disappeared from the party, and Alexis told me where you went.”

“Nausea hit me,” she explained, Taeyong’s arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close to him. “But I’m better now.”

“Honey, you’ve been feeling nauseated every day since we got back from our honeymoon. Are you sure you’re all right? Do I need to take you to the doctor?”

She couldn’t keep it from him any longer. She hated when Taeyong got worried. Idol life was stressful enough, and she didn’t want to add to it by hiding her pregnancy another day.

“Well, I will go see a doctor eventually,” she hinted as her hands wrapped around the back of her husband’s neck.

His left eyebrow was now raised in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a small giggle, she kissed his cheek and said, “Taeyong, I’m pregnant.”

The NCT leader’s expression transformed from confused into a look of shocked joy. His brown eyes widened and sparkled with happiness, and a giant smile stretched across his face.

“Savannah, are you serious?” His hands returned to her face, and she nodded. “When did you find out?”

“This morning after you left for practice. I wanted to tell you when we got home and show you the pregnancy tests I took, but Seulgi beat you to it.”

Taeyong couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled his beloved wife in for the biggest yet gentlest hug he could give her. Joy overwhelmed him so much in that moment he couldn’t stop the tears beginning to fall down his face. Savannah began to weep herself.

He broke away from their embrace and wiped her tears away with his thumbs, completely ignoring his own. “Can we do it? Raise a baby? Our baby? I mean my schedule is hectic, and you’re working for another group.”

She sighed. “I’ve been excited all day, but now that I think about it, I’m not sure of anything right now, Yongie. I’m not sure if I’m ready to be a mom. I don’t even know-”

Taeyong cut her off by pecking her lips, disregarding that she just vomited in the toilet less than five minutes ago. He then pressed his forehead against hers. “Don’t say things like that, baby. You’re going to be a great mother, because you take such good care of everyone else around you. I mean, sure, they’re not infants, but that kind of love and care can be carried over to any age.”

She was silent for a moment before whispering, “I’m still scared, though.”

“So am I, but how about we take this a day at a time?”

Savannah began to calm down and steadied her breathing, even though she hadn’t realized she was heaving out of nervousness.

“Okay,” she agreed. She pulled back enough to meet Taeyong’s eyes. “Can we go home, please? Fatigue is starting to kick in.”

“Of course,” he smiled before kissing her head.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 65

Chapter Summary - New Years morning, Danielle and Tom read over the scandal from New Year's Eve to see if it includes them, leading to a few comments and a slightly jealous Danielle, who, for the first time, has to deal with Tom's female fans flirtatious behaviour.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @lys-syl @youcantcatchafallingstar

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

Tom Hiddleston dances the year of 2016 away; The Thor actor and ex-beau of Taylor Swift was seen in the exclusive Trinity Club last night, dancing along with a number of other clients of Prosper PR including Emma Watson, who seemed to be enjoying herself, laughing as she and a female friend were caught dancing on camera with the 35-year-old star. Like so many others, 2016 was a year to forget for the Kong actor, who will no doubt be looking forward to bigger and better things in 2017.

Danielle laughed as she looked at the photo, it was grainy, obviously taken on a phone, no paparazzi had been able to get passed Luke’s defences. It was her and Emma dancing with Tom, her back to the photographer, but Emma and Tom’s faces visible, both clearly enjoying themselves. When she saw another face nearby, she erupted in giggles, Luke was face palming, though there was a hint of a smile of resignation on his face as he did so.

“Any world scandal?” Tom asked, rubbing his hair with a towel having just forced himself out for a run to brush away the cobwebs of the night before, then going for a shower on his return.

“No, but we were spotted last night.” She waited for his reaction.

“Did Luke contact you?” Tom rushed over. “How are you feeling?”

“Slightly thirsty, but good. With regards us being seen, you cannot tell it is me and I am being referred to as ‘the female friend of Emma Watson’, we are both dancing with her so…” She showed him the picture in question, which he analysed.

“How do you feel about it?”

“Well I thought there was no way for us to be seen, so I am slightly disappointed by that, but Luke is no doubt the one raging on that front, I, on the other hand, am okay.”

“Really?” He asked hopefully.

“I swear, I am.” She promised, leaning forward and kissing him. As he deepened the kiss, his phone went off and he groaned. “Go, answer it.” She sighed.

Tom walked over. “Mister Cumberbatch, there had better be a good reason you are interrupting a man on New Year's Day.” He growled.

“I cockblocked you, didn’t I?” Ben sounded far too happy with himself in Tom’s opinion. “Are you free today, simple yes or no answer, nothing else.”

“Yes,” Tom stated worriedly.

“Can Danielle hear?”

“No, but nearby.”

“Right, what time suits?”

“One second,” Tom put his hand over the mouthpiece, “Elle, what time are you and Emma going to lunch?” He whispered, not wanting Ben to realise he was talking to her about it.

“Lunchtime.” Danielle grinned, earning a bemused look from Tom. “I am leaving at noon, should be back by three, but I will text before getting on the tube.”She stated, not overly bothered by Tom’s plans, she heard him say he was speaking with Ben, anything more than that she was not overly bothered by if he had something he wanted to share with her, he would.

“She is gone for most of the afternoon.”

“Wait, she won’t be there?”

“No, she is meeting Emma for lunch, that tends to mean they will be gone until the shops close later.”

“Fucking Hallelujah, right, I am coming to yours.”

“Okay, can I ask why?”

“No, you might tell Elle and she might tell my wife, and we cannot tell my wife.”

“Secrets in marriage, really?”

“Fuck off Tom, wait and see, five years from now and two kids and you will be understanding my position, you will be saying. ‘Ben, remember that time…’.”

“Except I have neither a wife or kids.”

“You’re working on it, aren’t you?”

“Ben, I am a little tired and a little hungover, so not today.”

“Hungover, wait, why were you drinking?”

“Because I am over the age of eighteen and was at a party last night.”

“You left Danielle alone to go to a party?”

“No, she was there too.”

“How did you convince her to go to that?”

Tom sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes, “I asked her if she wanted to go and she did.”

“And, how did it go?”

“Great, she was not photographed with me, there is a picture of her, with her back to the camera dancing with me and Emma Watson, and no mention of her by name, so she is in a great mood.”

“Good, I’m glad you had that much, now, about my hiding at yours?”

“She’s leaving at noon.”

“You are a true friend Thomas William Hiddleston.”

“I cannot remember the last time someone used my whole name like that,” Tom noted. “Want lunch?”

“Is it something Danielle cooked?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

“I can cook too,” Tom stated indignantly.

“As can I; but Danielle cooks well, there is the difference,” Ben noted. “See you at half twelve so.”

“Whatever Sherlock.” Tom hung up the phone and turned to see a somewhat concerned Danielle looking at him. “I have no idea.” He admitted.

“Dare I ask?”

“Were you not listening?”

“No,” she scoffed. “Why would I listen in, if Ben wanted to talk to me, he would have asked to talk to me. Wait, have you…?” Tom shifted his weight slightly. “Well in mature adult relationships, people are allowed have private conversations with their friends without their other half interfering, remember, way back when, before the fame and fortune, your girlfriends probably didn’t attach themselves to you every time your phone buzzed.” She smiled, sitting herself up and forcing him to come down for a kiss. “Or at least the ones over fifteen.”

Tom grinned against her lips, “Darling, you will be late for lunch if you continue that.”

“Don’t you dare, I’m half-convinced that I will have to go early to meet Emma because if I get there after her, she is going to see me walking like John Wayne!” Danielle declared, causing Tom to erupt in laughter. “Seriously, I am not sure I can walk properly, it’s sore,” she whined.

Tom ceased laughing and his forehead knitted in worry. “Really?” His tone was one of concern. “Did I…?”

“Don’t you dare give yourself all the credit, it was me that decided that the living room was a good place to go at it, and need I remind you, you actually said to me not to do it on the couch.” She groaned, “What was I thinking?”

“Thinking? I fear I do not know. Drinking, on the other hand, I do, I think I recall us getting up to eight whiskey’s for me and four of that sickly sweet thing you were drinking before joining me for whiskey.”

“Whiskey makes me horny.”

“Good to know.” Tom grinned, “Though I am guilty of the same. What thing did you do that hurt?”

“I gave myself cramp.” Danielle dismissed. “I don’t want to get out of bed.”

“You need to get a shower and get ready,” Tom argued.

Danielle curled up in the blanket, “Don’t want to.” Causing Tom to chuckle at her. “I cannot remember the last time I drank like that, I think it was before my mam died.”

“You weren’t even that drunk.”

“Drunk, no, tipsy, definitely.” She pushed the covers down. “I need to get some tea before I get ready.”

“I will pop on the kettle.” Tom kissed her head before going downstairs once more to get her a cup of tea. While waiting for the water to boil, Tom got a notification on his phone, so he took it out and read it before laughing to himself. When the tea was ready, he rushed up the stairs to the bedroom, “Elle, you are not going to believe this.” He half laughed as he entered the room, seeing her face in front of him, his joyful smile fell, she was sighing and shaking her head as she read something on her phone. “Elle?”

“‘London socialite and aspiring model Annabelle Collins is in hospital this morning with a suspected overdose. The twenty-five-year-old model was partying with friends in the Loca Nightclub in London last night when she was found in the bathrooms by a friend after four am, an ambulance was called and the Metropolitan police are questioning those in the club around four am to establish what happened’.”

“Shit.”

“She left the party at the Trinity Club after our little confrontation, how much more had she snorted in five hours,” Danielle shook her head. “The fucking idiot.”

“Elle?”

“I saw too many of them, O.D.’s I mean, people thinking they were above being the statistic.” She growled angrily. “She is a filthy bottom feeder, a waste of already stretched NHS, and I bet there won’t even be an eyelid batted on the fact she snorted my weight in cocaine or some other shit, she’ll do it again. At least it didn’t happen at Luke’s party. She got her story, thankfully not at anyone else’s expense.”

“You saw she was a risk,” Tom commented, knowing that Danielle’s rant was nothing new, she was adamantly anti-drugs, having seen what could happen when it went too far.

“Of course, it was my job to.” Danielle threw her phone on the bed. “What were you so happy about?” Tom looked at her, his confusion was blatant. “When you came in.”

“Right, it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does Tom, don’t let her be my morning thought, please, give me something nice and happy.”

“I was spotted this morning.” He held up his phone and immediately, a small smile came to Danielle's face.

“It’s a great photo of you.” She went back on her phone.

“Really?”

“Yes, I am, ah here it is, I am downloading it now.” She smiled before typing again. “Your fans love it.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m being nosy and going on Tumblr.”

“Elle, that place is a minefield.”

“I know, let’s see. Ooh, found a ‘Hiddleswift’ blog. I hate that amalgamation of names thing in general, makes people sound ten-cent short of a euro, as though two people together cannot actually be two separate entities, either that or the person talking cannot actually be bothered referring to them by their names. Aw, my favourite, the ridiculous touring.”

“Elle, please don’t look at that.” Tom pleaded.

“There’s now people discussing you and Emma together, a better option in my opinion, smart, well educated, very nice.”

“Elle, please stop.” He reached for her phone but she pulled away.

“No, I want to find, bingo. Aw, that’s cute, people are gushing over the two of you.”

“Elle, don’t do this.” He reiterated.

“People want more pictures of you together, saying they cannot believe how adorable you are.”

“Elle, Taylor…”

“Who’s talking about Taylor?” Danielle scoffed. “I’m talking about you and your new companion.”

“You were there when Emma was around me.”

“Seriously, you are so far behind in this conversation,” Danielle laughed holding up her phone for Tom to read.

Tom scanned the words and exhaled in relief that Danielle did not think him interested in other women. “That’s not funny, I thought…” Danielle giggled. “You are evil.”

“You knew that already.” She shrugged as she looked back at the headline and smiled again. Actor Tom Hiddleston’s new companion is one that his fans are gushing over. The headline read, underneath was a picture of Tom jogging in the park, Mac next to him, his mouth open in what appeared to be a doggy grin. Underneath, all of Tom’s fans were indeed gushing over it, calling it the cutest thing ever, all of them thinking it added to his appeal. “Dog’s are the ultimate wingmen.” She laughed before going further down through the pictures. “As can be seen here, she’s pretty.” Her smile faltered slightly as she noticed a tall and beautiful girl in the photos talking to Tom.

Tom looked over her shoulder. “Elle…”

“I better get a shower.” She pulled away and headed to the bathroom.

“It was only an autograph, Elle.” Tom tried to explain.

“I’m going to be late.” Danielle locked the door so that he could not follow her. Outside the bathroom, Tom sighed in frustration. It was the first time Danielle had seen such an interaction, and it had not gone well.

When she emerged fifteen minutes later, Tom had gone through feeling guilty before becoming some little bit angered, it was an autograph and a photo with a fan, nothing more, nothing sinister, but Danielle was after acting as though he had forgotten her birthday, ran over her cat and told her it was her fault, when he turned around to talk to her about it, he was startled to see a guilty look on her face.

“I’m sorry.” He said nothing in return. “I…” She shook her head. “I knew before I ever kissed you back you were a movie star, that you had a lot of fans, and yes, when they see you, they want a photograph or an autograph, they are going to smile and flirt with you and they are probably, on occasion, try and grab bits of you. I knew this, and I know you are you, you would never do anything with them, you smile back using your polite smile and you indulge them because you want others to be happy and behind it all, you need fans to like you to get certain roles, and I went and acted like that and that is not fair to you, it was childish and stupid and I am sorry.”

“Why…”

“I think I got jealous, she is really pretty and tall and Mac seemed to like her, and I am sounding even more petulant when I say it out loud.” She groaned. Tom walked over to her. “I was wrong to get upset.”

Tom watched as a large bead of water dripped down from her hair before it trickled down her chest. “Why do you listen to that voice in your head telling you you’re not enough? You are who I want Danielle, I love you, no one else interests me like that. You are so confident, yet you seem so riddled in self-doubt.” He looked down at her lovingly. “I will have fans come up to me, I will interact with them and when we are public, I am sure some may try and make you jealous, but it won’t mean I am interested in them.”

“I know. I messed up.” She seemed almost on the verge of tears. “The first time something completely innocent happens I acted like it was the apocalypse.”

“Well, that is a tad dramatic, you got upset, you weren’t shouting and screaming.”

“Not really my style.”

“You are allowed to feel emotions, Elle, just please talk to me about it. I rather listen to you say a thousand times tell me you felt some pang of jealousy than you bottle it up and let it fester in your mind, because if you do that, we can’t work through it and that would kill us, I don’t want that.”

“I don’t want to feel it.”

“No one tends to want to feel those emotions, but we still do. I am going to have it when you are in the world eye and other better-looking men start being introduced to you, or when you are working and there is a gorgeous actor or behind the scenes, men flirting with you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Tom.”

“Elle, you are smart, hard-working and incredibly sexy, I am six years older than you, not exactly muscled and have a receding hairline, do you think I don’t know I am punching above my weight? That you are not the sort of woman men look for?” Danielle scoffed at him. “Are you honestly dismissing me?”

“Yes, because you are Tom Hiddleston, actor, humanitarian and sex god.” She stated factually. “You are one of the sexiest men on the planet, women literally adore you, there are like a thousand stories about your sexiness I had to swipe down passed to get to the picture of you and Mac and they have nicknamed your cock after the largest snake on the planet.” she laughed slightly as she watched him go red. She found herself needing to physically touch him, so she wrapped her arms around him. “I know that, so I have to tell that little voice to shut up, that we made a promise, and you will keep to it.”

“Promise?”

“To tell me if you…”

“Elle, there is never going to be anyone else.”

“I know, but still.” She smiled. “I am not a jealous person, so I am not sure why I…”

“You are a human being Elle, you’re allowed feel emotion, last night when that girl got lipstick on my ear, you didn’t get angry or upset, you were so calm, you understood immediately, that is why I know that this is not you.”

“The comments…”

“What comments?”

“Under the picture, implying you were flirting or fishing to see people’s reaction to a potential new match.” She stated dismissively, “I let it get in my head.”

Tom froze for a moment, “Ah, now that makes more sense.” He tilted her head up to look at him. “Don’t listen to them, do not read them, alright? You saw what they wrote that time I was out with Emma, they thought she was my pregnant girlfriend.” Danielle erupted in laughter. “Don’t let them drive you away, you are so strong.”

“But occasionally an idiot.”

“Aren’t we all?” Tom kissed her. “I’m afraid your tea is probably gone cold, you need to get dressed.”

“Then stop kissing me.”

“I can’t.” he guided her to the bed before encouraging her to sit then lie on it while he remained above her. “You know what I have yet to do to you?”

“Allow me to be on time for something?” She giggled in retort. Tom’s response was a growl before he opened the towel, revealing her to him. “Tom.”

“I know, you’re a slight bit tender, by the way, you’ve bruised your thigh.”

“I know, when I was jumping onto the couch, I really hurt it.” She groaned, having recalled her actions that had given her the mark. Tom chuckled before he began to kiss her stomach, slowly edging down further. “Wait, what are you doing?” She asked, leaning up on her elbows for support.

“I would have thought it obvious.” He grinned for a moment before his smile fell slightly. “Wait, you’ve never?” Danielle shook her head. “Well then, he looked to the clock by their bedside, “I am going to see how to get you off in as quick a time as possible doing something to you that you have never done before.” His smirk returned though there was a wickedness to it. “I cannot believe I get to do these things for the first time to you.”

“You were hoping for someone a bit more, shall we call it ‘seasoned’?” Danielle asked curiously.

“What happens before I am dating someone is their business, but knowing I get to do things to you no one else ever has, that is incredible.” He smiled. “Now, let’s see how I do?”

[avidfanficwriter]

The Other Sister (chapter 3)

Characters: Steve Rogers(AU!) x OFC.

Summary: After five years of marriage, Steve Rogers finds himself questioning everything that his wife, Annabel has ever told him thanks to the impromptu visit by her troubled younger sister: Addison; whose existence he’s just learned about fives years prior. His only question now is: who verison is the truth? His loving wife? Or the troubled sister?

Ratings: M

Notes: Chapter took entirely longer than I expected. Or wanted. Each time i wrote it, it came out shit. (not that this one is much better but hey.) THIS STORY DOES NOT CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR/FROM AVENGERS: ENDGAME!

Tags:  rangotangomango  lilulo-12  wolflhards

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. 

                                             “It’s...” here.

It's amazing how much can change in five years, how a person can shift their entire demeanor to become completely unrecognizable. The past five years, Steve had grown partial to a beard something he hadn't worn since his senior year of college when he was up to his neck in finals and had no time for non-necessities; his attire had changed drastically suits became the norm; buttons ups a comfort item and dress shoes a staple of his outfits. Yet while he had changed for the best, his opinions differed when his eyes came upon Addison, her hair was a darker shade of brown, her eyes as impossible as it was, appeared darker. There was a three inch scar below her left eye that was at least a year old that caught your attention immediately, a pale face with a scarred gash. She's dressed in a red flannel that looks two sizes too big for her small frame, a plain black T-shirt underneath and light blue jeans that were stained. She's lost weight, probably to much if he was honest. The woman in front of him looked nothing like the one he'd met years earlier.

Steve notices the differences between the 'sisters,' Addison is shorter than Annabel, by six inches. Different eye colors, different hair color, hair texture and different body shapes. Different everything. If it weren't for their last name, no one would have assumed they were siblings let alone related.

Addison keeps her eyes to the ground, staring at her scuffed converse that should have been replaced six months ago. Her duffel bag is hooked over her shoulder and she's breathing deeply. "Haven't seen you since the wedding." Steve says immediately regretting his decision to try to lighten the mood. Instead of helping clear the awkward air, it only added to it. Immediately, he kicks into protector mode. "Listen, if you're going to be staying with us." He says, straightening his posture and lowering the pitch of his voice. "I need to check your bag."

Her chocolate eyes quickly meet his and he expects the worse. Her refusal, even her storming off after shouting an insult but she does the opposite. She drops her bag on the ground between them and takes a step back, allowing him access. The search comes up empty, there isn't anything inside of it aside from clothing, a journal and a wallet. No drugs, syringes or weapons. There's a flash of disappointment that crosses his face when he zips the bag up, he hoped that would have been his ticket to kick her out. Hoped maybe she was stupid enough to have something.

"And we need to check you." Her sister speaks as she stands beside Steve with a brown paper bag in her hand. Steve's jaw tightens as he steps forward, "I assume you know how to stand for a body search?" Annabel asks.

Addison's arms extend out and she spreads her legs a bit as Steve begins patting her down. His hand comes into contact with a hard object in her front pocket, "What's that?"

"Phone." She says in a small voice, avoiding his eyes. He's given her the benefit of the doubt in the past and it came back to bit him in the ass, he won't be making the same mistake twice. Using two fingers, he carefully pulls out a old flip phone from her pockets and lets out a quick breathe.

"Okay." He replies, pushing it back into her pocket.

Steve rejoins his wife who is listing out the rules for her stay, "No drugs, no drinking alcohol; no parties, no visitors. You will use the front door of the house to come and go, the back gate is locked and will remain that way. You break any of those rules, you will be on the street." Annabel's hands Addison the brown paper bag. "We will also be drug testing you twice a day. Once in the morning and once at night; before we get you settled we'd like you to take one now. Inside the bag is a cup, go the bathroom, pee in it and we'll test you. if it comes back positive, Steve will take you to the guest house."

Addison does it without a second thought, following Annabel's directions to the bathroom and closing the door behind her. The married couple stand near the restroom, thankful they don't have a window that she can escape from in there.

"Do you think she'll do it?" Steve asks, leaning his back against the wall.

"If she's really got nowhere else to go, yes." Annabel is filing her hot pink nails and sitting on the blue bench, they had to have to accentuate the hallway. What it really added was beyond him but for the price of it, it had better be doing something impressive.

"You sure this will work?"

Annabel doesn't have a chance to answer before the bathroom door opens and a startled Addison walks out. Her eyes are wide and she takes a few deep breaths to calm herself, handing the brown bag back to Annabel who stares at her in disgust. Steve takes the bag instead, giving her a small nod.

"I'll do this." He enters the master bedroom, retrieving the box of drug tests they had purchased. The instructions are straight forward, have a sample ready and dip the stick in; wait five minutes and the results will be ready. Two lines for negative. One line for positive. Waiting feels like an eternity, his watch ticks the seconds away and his mind is spinning with the possibility she's high. He should have checked for track marks.

The five minutes are up and to his relief it's negative. She was off to a good start. Rejoining the girls in the living room, the air is full of static, both unsure of their next move. "She's clean." He says a little to joyful.

"Good. I'm glad." Annabel smiles, clapping her hands. "Steve will show you to your room, I have to get started on dinner."

Steve expected more conversation to arise as he lead Addison to the guest house, even a simple remark about the yard or the house rather than silence. It's unsettling and blatantly obvious that she's nothing more than a stranger. The only thing even allowing them to interact was a marriage license between someone who had once considered her family.

"The uh--the kitchen is testy, some appliances work when they want to, others not so much. I'm working on getting it fixed, as for what truly works in the kitchen It's a bit of a guessing game." Steve says once they get inside the guest house. "The fridge is not to reliable either, anything you need, you're more than welcome to get from the main house. The glass door we'll leave unlocked for you." He hopes some parts of this come off as genuine, he's trying everything to not be rude but the amount of hostility bubbling inside of him is putting him on edge. "The bedrooms just through there." He points to left. "There's no television but I'm sure Annabel will have no problem setting you up with the internet password."

Addison nods, the muscles in her face tightening as she looks around. "We put some blankets in there for you and a dresser for your clothes. You're welcome to stay as long as you need." Steve nervously taps his fingers along the marble counter. He leaves, chewing on his bottom lip and fast walking back to the main house where Annabel is leaning against the counter, reading a copy of some gossip magazine.

"She all settled in?" she asks, discarding her magazine to wrap her hands around her husbands waist.

"Yes. Are you sure we shouldn't have gotten something else for there? I don't feel comfortable with her coming and going into the house as she pleases."

"She'll be fine." The conversation was dropped after that, no further discussions of mentions of her. For the next few hours, he's doing everything he can to not stare at the guest house. He's waiting for it, the sound of gunshots, a fire breaking out. The worst is coming, it's just a matter of time.

Around dinner, Annabel places a plate of roast chicken with a side of pasta in front of him and another where she is going to sit. There's an extra plate resting on the counter that is eyeing Steve. "I told Addison she was more than welcomed to join us for dinner. Don't be surprised if she comes in." She doesn't. Their dinner is quiet, the same way it always is. Addison focus is on him for the first few minutes before falling victim to her cell phone.

Steve spots a lit turn off from one of the windows in the guest house but it still does nothing to make the dread leave.

Their conversation resumes once they are inside the comfort of their room, "I'm surprised she didn't have any drugs on her." Annabel remarks once she sits on the bed, dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

"Maybe this will work, the drug tests and the rules."

"I doubt it."

Steve walks out of the bathroom, discarding his pair of pants into the hamper. "Why do you say that?"

"I think she actually enjoys creating trouble like... she gets off on it. God, every second of my childhood was filled with some of her bullshit. One thing after the other. Then the shit at our wedding, we extended an olive branch and she screws it up. I mean, she's an adult and still acts like she's a child." Steve lets her continue, holding his tongue. "I give her three weeks before she's back jonesing for her next fix."

"Even if it fails, at least we can say that we tried." Steve suggests, sitting on the bed bedside her. "If it does work, at least our children would know their aunt."

Annabel turns to him, disgust smeared across her face. "Yeah, their druggie aunt Addison. No childern of ours will even know of her existence."

"You can't say that." He objects.

Annabel scoffs, shaking her head. "Are you kidding me? We have a 50/50 chance of having at least one child like Addison, my parents had her, who knows what we could have. If by some miracle we manage to have one child with their head screwed on right, we don't need her corrupting them."

Steve stares at her in disbelief. "You'd keep her away from our family?"

"To protect our family."

"Even if she was clean?"

"I don't care."

"Annabel..." He lets out in a low whisper. "You can't say that, she's your sister."

"By blood. Not by choice." She corrects him, sternly.

"Baby..."

"Steve, you've known her for less than two hours, I grew up with that. I know exactly what she's capable of."

With that, Annabel tugs the blankets up, turns off her bedside lamp and lays down.

Steve sat in silence, his head leaning against the headboard while his eyes remained on his wife. He’d never faced a problem such as this one before, good guys were always good guys and bad guys were always bad guys. Addison however was neither good nor bad, she fell somewhere in between. She’d made bad decisions, did bad things but wasn’t evil as far as he was aware. His mind was in a battle between hating her and wanting to care for her.

Steve wakes at five in morning, the smell of coffee filling the house and the subtle scent of Annabel’s perfume lingers on the sheets. Inside the living room, he expects to find the Shaw sisters but only finds his wife, whose muttering to herself about misplacing her keys.

“They’re on the microwave.” Steve says, leaning on the counter watching her. She’s dressed in a form fitting blue dress and black heels.

“Thank you.”

Annabel moves to grab her keys off the microwave and Steve notices the black suitcase, she only uses on her trips that is against the counter. “I thought you weren’t working this week.”

Annabel sighs, pushing her hair out of her face. “I wasn’t. Harold…” Her boss. “…called and said they need me to go to Seattle and help train a bunch of new employees. They are having a difficult time selling.”

“They need you?”

“June’s going as well.”

“What am I supposed to do with Addison?”

“Steve…” She says in a low voice, walking up to him and running her hands along his shoulders. “I’ll be gone for a three days, a week at most.“ She raked her nails down his chest, knowing fully well the grey t-shirt he’s wearing leaves him with no protection against her seduction, he fights it; tightening his jaw and looking out the window at the guest house. Annabel’s hand pulling at the waistband of his pants brings his attention back to her.

He lets out a low groan as she nips at his Adams apple and trails her tongue up his neck. Steve groans, roughly pulling her into him and digging his fingers into her hips. Their kiss is rough, full of pent up frustration and need.

"Fifteen minutes.” She says between the kiss as he bites at her lip and she pulls at his hair.

With a loud growl, he lifts her onto the counter, standing between her legs and pulling her dress up. “More than enough time.”

Sex with Annabel had changed throughout their time together, in the beginning it was spontaneous, pouncing on one another at any given time or any location, wild and crazy. After their nuptials, it dwindled down, less spontaneity. Sex became rare and when opportunities arose the air was filled with excuses, 'his back hurt, she was on her feet all day, sleep was calling.' Far too many excuses and far too little energy. Their need for each other was still there, bubbling at the surface waiting to be released which is why he is having to resist every urge inside of him to strip her completely and run his fingers through her hair. Steve likes intimacy, he likes to bare his soul and have the same in return. Lingering touches; small kisses, quick gasps and whispers of I love you. He wants every single part of his partner.

Her nails dig into his back and her teeth into his shoulder as he finally pushes into her. "Annabel..." He groans, trying to pull her closer.

It's the clearest his mind has been in the fifteen hours since Addison's arrival, for once he can clear his mind of the 'what ifs' and focus on one thing. He can focus on his wife, Annabel and the beautiful sounds she's making or the feeling of her body reacting to him. It's going to be over soon either because they've ran out of time or because he can no longer find the will to not break. He warns her, letting out a stifled cry into her neck that he's almost there but before she can respond, her body jerks away and her legs shake sporadically. It's blissful the sound of her coming apart. Steve studies her face, lips parted letting out a silent scream, her eyes shut tight and her body trembling with aftershocks. Not even a second after her, he lets out a loud curse and can hardly stand upright as he fills her. They lean on one another, trying to calm their heart rate and gain control of their breathing.

With a pat on his bicep, Annabel speaks. "I've got to go, baby." He nods in response. "Baby..." Steve breathes out deeply, stepping away and fixing his pants as she disappears down the hall. He collapses onto the couch, glistening of sweat and feeling weak at his knees. Annabel rejoins him, looking beautiful as ever, her perfume and hairspray fill his nose as she leans down to give him a quick kiss. "I love you." She whispers against his lips.

"Come back to me." He responds, accepting that she is leaving.

Annabel smiles, "I always do." She says making his heart swell.

The comment started as joke, they were at a party when a man began flirting with Annabel; desperately trying to bed her. Steve watched their encounter, finding humor at the man's actions before joining them and quickly wrapping his arm around her waist. Annabel buried her head into his chest, sighing with relief at her savior. "I was worried you weren't going to come back to me." He says mockingly, knowing the man had no shot with her. She shook her head and looked him straight in the eyes, "I always will." It was simple yet straightforward, mimicking a confession of love with the way Steve felt his heart beat faster. Since then he's always said it and she's always responded in the same way.

An hour after Annabel's leaves, Steve is struggling with what to do about Addison; she needs her drug test but she hasn't came out of the guest house and he has to leave for work in fifteen minutes. He's now fighting an internal battle of what to do, does he go to the guest house and ask for her urine? Does he leave the cup on the counter with a note and hope when she comes into the house to eat, she'll do it? Should he even go to work? How was he supposed to do anything this week while Addison was here? After a short debate and his watch counting down the minutes, he decides to go to the guest house, he'll have to get this over with. It's a short walk, ten minutes at most but to him it feels like ten hours, each step feels weighted as if a rope is wrapped around his ankle and someone is pulling at it as he moves. He's waiting for the black clouds, the circle of fire or the smoke monster from that Tv show to appear; something the signifies this was a bad idea. He fights every cell in his body telling him to turn away and knocks on the wooden door, quietly at first before finding the courage to knock harder. There's shuffling on the other side of the door before it swings open revealing Addison who looks worse than he thought possible.

"Good morning," He says with a small nod. "It's time for your test."

She sighs, extending her hand out to grab the plastic jar. "In front of you?"

"No." He shakes his head. "Just bring it back when you're done."

Addison disappears into the house while he stares at his watch, counting how long it takes for her to return. Three minutes. That corresponds with how long it took her yesterday, as long as she didn't spend more than three minutes in the bathroom all was well. That limited the chances of her doing something to compromise the sample. The jar is wrapped in paper towel, most likely to give her some respect over the fact that she's handing her brother-in-law a jar of her urine.  

"If it comes back positive, I'll be back." He warns before walking back to the house. Inside of the bathroom, he tests the urine and says a silent thank you when once again the results are positive. The last thing he wanted to do was kick Addison out while Annabel was away. Flushing the urine down the toilet, he sends a quick message to Annabel about the results of Addison's latest drug test. It still feels wrong, breathing the same air that Addison is, knowing that any moment she can break. Turn into a lying manipulating monster, it's not a safe environment for any of them. Not safe for her to be around them but she is, they have no choice.  "We're good people." he can hear his mother reprimanding him. He's doing this for Annabel, putting up with this mess for his wife because he loves her.

His next battle is leaving for work, which is harder than it should be. He's ready, dressed, briefcase packed and for some reason he can't find enough strength to turn the knob. He's scared, scared of what might happen when he is gone, what evil she could bring into the house. She's a virus that's affecting the home, a demon that is haunting them. They have insurance, homeowners protection and savings, if she does something they are protected and he'll use the full force of the law to go after her. Make her pay for her faults unlike her family he wrote her off. It's a new found confidence running through his body as he finally manages to turn the doorknob and step out. The air outside feels different, cleaner and lighter even brighter. The heavy fog that was hanging over him is gone. He's able to breathe until he gets to work. Work is another ball park, all day it's numbers and meetings, his boss' loud voice booming through the office demanding better... everything. No encouraging speeches, just paperwork slamming onto the table and shouting for better results. Tony Stark, his boss; his friend--most of the time-- is a perfectionist and at times an asshole.

When Steve and Tony first met, it was like a firecracker had gone off inside the building, sparks flew and egos went to bat. Two dominate male personalities were sparring with their words just waiting to get their fists involved. Over time, their toxic relationship became less toxic, they could finally refer to each other as friends in certain situations. Usually after work, they'd meet up for drinks and bitch about their boss, complain about their personal lives and drink their sorrows away. Until Tony became the boss and suddenly, their fighting was a far more common occurrence; they had to find a line that allowed them to be friends and employee/employer. The line was blurred, they could work together as long as one of them didn't disagree with the other then suddenly an argument would break out yet after work they were out drinking or at dinner with the others family. While it made no sense, no one questioned it in fear more questions would create another set of problems.  

After work, Steve is tired and refuses to go home, he'll be returning to a empty bed and the devil's spawn will be there. Against better judgement, he decides to go out with Bucky and Tony. Tony is buying the first round per Bucky's request, "The boss pays first round, he works us to the bone least he could do is pay for our drinks." which puts a smile on Steve's face but not for long. He's lost in the negative yet again.

James 'Bucky' Barnes or Jimmy as Tony refers to him when he's angry (which only pisses off Bucky), has been friends with Steve since childhood, they grew up just five houses apart and instantly became family. Everyone assumed they were brothers because of how close they were and eventually they stopped correcting people, they felt like family and they were. Chances were if you found Bucky, Steve wouldn't be to far away. They were attached by the hip which was how they manage to work together. Steve applied first and Bucky applied on a whim somehow both managing to land a job.

"Why weren't you at work today?" Tony asks, turning into their boss for a moment as he looks at Bucky. Who called in with the excuse he was sick but was perfectly healthy now.

"Sick."

Tony raises an eyebrow. "Sick? But not too sick to drink?"

"Drinking heals the soul." Tony shakes his head, scoffing at the younger man and walks to the bar to retrieve the beers.

It doesn't take long before Bucky realizes something is eating at his best friend, not that it was difficult to see, Steve had a terrible poker face. Exactly the reason, Bucky and Tony always won during poker nights, one look at Steve and it was obvious, if his hand was good or bad. "Alright, what's wrong, punk?" He asks nudging him in the arm.

Steve lifts his head, confused. "Huh? Oh, nothing." His shoulders shrug.

"Something's up. Tony said you didn't even argue with him about having to redo a report."

"There was no reason to argue."

If they were in a old fashioned bar, the record would've scratched and everyone around them would've gasped. Their expressions would've matched Bucky's whose starring him wide eyed with his jaw almost on the floor. "No reason to fight with Stark? Now I know something is up. You never pass up a moment to argue with Stark, no matter how ridiculous."

Tony arrives at the table, three beers in hand, "Drink up boys."

Enthusiastically, Tony and Bucky grab the beers quickly drowning their livers in the brown liquid and share a look of confusion when Steve grabs the bottle but doesn't drink it. The two men silently come to the conclusions his attitude shift is none other than problems linked to his wife. They have yet another silent realization that one of them is going to have to be the one to ask and neither want to do it. Their eyes convey their words, arguing over who is going to do it before Tony says to hell with it and asks.

"So, what'd she do?" Tony asks, leaning back in his seat, getting ready for another dive into Steve's relationship.

"What? Who? Annabel?"

Bucky lets out a sarcastic laugh, "Who else?"

"It's not her." The two men beside him let out a laugh. "It's her sister." As quickly as their laughter started, it was gone. Confusion is clearly going to play a large role in tonight's conversation.

"Sister?" Bucky questions. "I didn't know she had a sister?" he looks at Tony for confirmation, he to didn't know

There's not a descriptive word in the English language that could properly convey the feeling of sorrow that overtakes Steve as he tells the story of dear ol' Addison Shaw, the black sheep of the Shaw family. He can see his friends faces contort with confusion and disgust as they take in the secret. They're as speechless as Steve was the first time he heard and suddenly filled with anger, Tony's eyes shift and Bucky's jaw tightens. Steve fills a wave of euphoria after finally getting every last drop out, the story is out there, finally he's not alone in bearing the weight. He can have a third party involved, someone that isn't entirely involved by blood or marriage. A new opinion, someone to tell him if he is doing the right thing or at least give him advice.

Tony is uncharastically speechless, normally the man has words ready before someone is even done speaking but now he's leaning on his hand and letting out a deep breathe, while he tries to process the revolution. Bucky however is, leisurely drinking his beer and shaking his head. Then he smiles and Steve knows, the second Bucky smiles after startling information is revealed is never a good thing.

"Well, shit." Bucky adds. "You hit the jackpot, kid." He's not done. There is no shock factor yet and Bucky loves to shock, if even for entertainment purposes. "She single?" There it is. The one line that makes Steve question why he's friends with him. "Or you know, down for something? Sex with someone who's got a few screws loose is fucking life changing."

"Goddamn, Barnes." Tony chimes in with disgust. "Don't let your boss hear you say stuff like that, you're gonna fail a drug test if you stick it in her."

"I'm telling my friend, not my boss." He corrects.

"Two drug tests a day then?" Tony asks shifting the conversation from Bucky's sexual conquests to the real issue at hand. Steve nods. "She got a record?"

Steve sighs for the hundredth time tonight, "According to Annabel, yes. A few arrests for drug use but I don't know the details. I don't even think she does."

Tony suggests using one of his 'friends' to look into Addison, the perks of being born with money meant you had an assortment of people at your fingertips, all waiting for the one phone call to get started. He's listing off people that Steve can use, a detective who owes him a few favors (he won't say why and Steve is scared to ask), a doctor who can get him a better drug testing kit; a private investigator to not only watch her every move but to find out where she has been for the last few years.

For a moment, Steve considers it; it would make his life a lot easier, probably easier to sleep. "No, I can't." He shakes his head with disappoint. "Annabel said, she'd last three weeks at most before she slips up. it would be a waste of time."

"What if she slip ups and costs you guys something?" Bucky finally interjects, this time with something helpful. "You guys were already having problems, what if she's the thing that makes you call it quits."

For the first time in their friendship, Tony agrees with Bucky as painful as it, the last few weeks-months have been filled with Steve drinking his pain away and cursing at the thought of his wife. It wasn't divorce worthy yet but the possibility of separating had arose. Tony suggested it, using his own relationship as an example. "Time apart hurt like hell but it did the trick, made us... me realize what I wanted and need." He'd said. Bucky was silent during the conversation, not having a 'relationship' to compare it to. The most trouble he faced was deciding what woman to call if he didn't luck out at the bar. Steve and Tony were the only ones in long term relationships and knew the troubles you could experience. Tony was far more useful in this situation but surprisingly Bucky was holding his own.

"It wouldn't cause that." Steve argues.

"It could."

Steve feels like a lost puppy after Tony speaks and his eyes drop to his gold wedding band. Every aspect of their lives, he'd taken into account except for their marital problems. Things weren't great between he and Annabel but they weren't bad either, it was this weird space between them. They spoke but not frequently. They said they loved each other and kissed one another goodbye but it didn't feel the same anymore. They'd fight, then make up and fight again. An endless cycle.

"Steve..." Bucky voice is small, as if he's not entirely sure what to say. "Why would Annabel agree to this? To her staying with you guys?"

All Steve can do is shrug, "I don't know. I think it's because she's trying to be nice? Do what her parents couldn't."

"You said she brought drugs to your wedding after Annabel invited her and she's giving her another chance?"

"I don't know." Steve finally gives up, none of it makes sense.

"Was she at your mother in law's funeral?" Tony asks, thinking back to the depressing day, there wasn't anyone in particular he remembered looking troubled attending.

"No, Annabel said she refused to answer the phone."

Tony scoffs, "God."

Steve's phone beeps, stealing their attention and startling all of them. It's a text message from Annabel asking about Addison's latest drug test. His cue to go home. "Boys, I have to go." He says, tapping Tony on the shoulder before rising to his feet. He tosses a few dollars onto the table for them. "Next round's on me." He's grateful for the notification, he'd lost track of time and didn't want to leave Addison alone in his home. Bucky offers a helping hand before he departs, "Call me if you need me. If it gets outta control."

Arriving home just in time to beat the sunset, he quickly gathers the jar and heads to the his guest house, it's quiet again; no noises; no moving this either. It's dead silence. "Addison?" He resorts to shouting her name and knocking. She answers the door wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a loose fitting guns n roses t-shirt, her hair is a birds nest and dark bags under her eyes. They're not happy to see one another but without any complaints, she takes the small jar and disappears from his view. He stares at his watch again, timing her. One minute... two minutes... two in a half... three minutes... three minutes and sixteen seconds before she comes into view, the jar wrapped yet again in toilet paper. He doesn't say anything this time, she has to know by now and there is no point in repeating. The results once again are clean. He texts Annabel, telling her Addison is clean and that he misses her, wishes she was here and that he loves her before laying down in bed.

It's cold. The bed and the house when he wakes, the bedside alarm clock taunts him reading, 12:09am. Four hours of sleep yet he feels like he only got five minutes of sleep. Steve stretches his muscles and exits the bedroom, sighing heavily as his bare feet touch the wooden planks beneath him. The kitchen is dimly lit from the fish tank full of fish, they always manage to neglect; another reason they couldn't have a dog. Their fish sometimes go days without eating or days where they are overfed, unfortunately never in between. He plans to feed them only to grab his chest and let out a loud, "Fuck!" when he notices a figure sitting at the counter. The figure jumps as well, glass shatters against the floor, making the scene even more harrowing.

"Shit."

[a-copper-butterfly]

Title Suggestions Needed!

OK so i posted this before but i have edited it a bit and added a new intro. im still not sure if i should continue this but what the hay, have a look and give us some feed back. :)

here is my re-write of good omens where the ineffable husbands raise Adam.

Monday, five days before the end of the world.

It was sunny, well, as sunny as it every was in the centre of London.

For those you don’t know, London is a vaguely potato shaped blob about ten miles across, with its own weather system which is almost entirely different to that of the rest of the UK.

Warlock was moping along his nose glued to his phone (not literally, thought Crowley sometimes wished he could get close enough with some glue without the little nuisance noticing.) Warlock had perfected the art of nearly completely ignoring the world around him, but remining just aware enough that he could complain at anyone who might distract him. His mother was walking along admiring the sculptures, pausing now and then to read an information sign. She did this much in the same manner as most people the world over when they want to look more intelligent than they are. They don’t actually read what is written on the information board, just frown and nod like you agree with what ever had been said then point to it and repeat a few lines when a friend or family member joins you. Thus, the whole cycle repeats itself.

A little way from the stroppy pre-teen, representatives of both heaven and hell discussed the fate of the world.

“I mean, he could just disappear,” suggested the Demon. He was slouched on the wooden bench. This was a master level slouch of someone who had trained for years to hold his body in such a position. A normal person if attempting this would pull a muscle if not worse.

The Angel that sat prim and proper next to him frowned,

“I don’t see how hiding him would help?” he said, which earned a glare form his companion. The thick sunglasses that covered the Demons yellow eyes obscure the fond irritation directed at the angel.

“I mean kill him Angel,” he clarified.

The Angel shuffles in his seat uncomfortable about this conversation. He tried to change the subject, but not too much avail.

“Are you going to get him a dog?” Azriaphale looks over at Crowley, know full well that he had been asked to provide the hound and that this was purely a diversion.

“I thought you were going to sort that out.” Crowley responded, rolling his concealed eyes.

“Why are we getting him a dog anyway.”

Crowley gave a side glances at his companion, silently noting the use of “we”.

Azriaphale wasn’t done with his grumbling, “Do remember the hamster?” he continued.

“Sir hamserlot? Yeah.” Crowley cringed at the memory of the tan and white little rodent. The poor thing when through so meant names it was a wonder it didn't have identity issues.

“How meant times did we have to pull that poor creature back from the jaws of death?” Aziraphale says shaking his head. The poor thing had eventual snuffed it permanently when the boy had gotten it into his head that hamsters could swim. They can, much like rats, but being put in a crudely made ship and pushed out on a duck pond in the middle of winter would be terminal for most rodents or any other small mammal.

A dog is a bit bigger. This was the only argument Crowley could come up with at the time.

“Well” Azriaphale relented “he is a bit older now.”

Crowley shuffled further into his slouch.

“It's the end if the world Angel.” He muttered gloomily, “Just give the kid what he wants. And he wants a dog.”

Aziraphale flinched at this painful truth.

“Well you have a point dear. Fine, he can have a dog.”

There was a pause as they watched Warlock ignore the world around him and play on his phone. The cartoonish sounds of games annoying the people around him. Crowley smirked; apps had been one of his ideas. Well, according to hell they were. Humans were always doing his job for him; he just took the credit when the higher ups asked about it. He sighs and slips back into the conversation about the end of the world.

“We’d better be there when the dog arrives” Crowley said darkly.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. I think he can look after himself and a dog for a few hours. He is old enough now, don’t you think?” Aziraphale smiles nodding in agreement with himself.

Crowley shot the angel a withering look.

“I meant the hellhound and Warlock, not some overly excited puppy with a bladder size of a spoon. This is going to a monster. The biggest they have got, according to downstairs.”

Aziraphale lip touched in a pout. “Oh” was all he said.

“I'm going as waiting staff don't want people recognizing me.” Crowley continued. “Can you bring him?”

“He said he doesn’t want to go. Said warlock isn't fun to hang out with anymore.” Aziraphale said, fumbling with a button on his sleeve cuff.

“Too bad. He is going to seeing a lot more of him whether he likes it or not. That is if there is anything after.” Crowley responded darkly. He still hadn’t figure how they were going to make it through the next few days.

A sudden though shot through Aziraphale mind.

“I could be the entertainment! I’ll brush up on my magic!” he said excitedly, beaming at the idea.

“Oh no, angel, please don’t. Really, it’s humiliating.” Crowley protested, “You can do miracles, why bother doing sleight of hand when you’re not good at it?” Aziraphale bounced in his seat. This was going to be fun.

  One late august night just outside the small village of Tadfield,

 When a snake regurgitates its food, its normally because it had been grabbed or handle soon after eating or is otherwise subjected to stress.

As Crowley knelt in damp grass on the bank beside the road, he wiped his mouth. The light from the Bentley’s open door revealing the grey sludge that was even now burning the grass. The small part of Crowley’s mind that wasn’t screaming in panic wondered when the last time he had eaten was. Without the help of the rest of his brain, he guessed around six years ago.

Pushing himself up onto wobbly legs, Crowley slid back into the driving seat, switched on the radio as he did so. As he pulled the car back onto the road, Crowley checked the rear-view mirror. The carry cot was still there. This was real.

“Shit, shit, shit, why me, why me?” he muttered to himself. The radio crackle,

“BECAUSE YOU EARNED IT CROWLEY” came the voice of Freddy Mercury.

“Fuck…” though Crowley.

 Sister Annabelle Houghton was totally normal, much to the annoyances of her parents. They were traditional occultists who gave her supposedly cursed china dolls and pretty, frilly dresses in attempts to get her possessed. They had even moved at an old house which the nice estate agent had made very clear was the site of quite a few murders and ghost stories. It even had its own graveyard in the garden. Her swing was hung in an old knarred oak tree which legend had it was used as a hangman’s gibbet, but she never used it. When Annabelle eventually grew up, her parents had lamented and had sent her off to the Sisterhood of Chattering Nuns of St Beryl. Not too worried about this, Annabelle went along as she thought it might be interesting.

Now she sat looking out of one of the convent’s window keeping watch for the arrive of Master Crowley and the baby boy he carried with him. The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this world, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. She was very excited; this was a big day and she, Sister Annabelle, would be part of it. A cup of tea sat on the windowsill beside her. It had gone cold hours ago, No matter.

A car came screaming through the gates of the convert an excitement jolting up her spine. Sister Annabelle leapt from her seat and began to quickly click her way down the hall towards the foyer. She turned the corner expecting to see one of her sisters talking to Master Crowley but broke into a run when she saw which sister it was. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Sister Mary Loquacious, she was a lovely person when you were sat having a chat, it was just that things, important things, tended to go wrong when she was involved.

“Mother Superior! Mater Crowley is here!” she half-yelled, her fists full of her skirt as she leaped down the three little steps leading up to the corridor. Crowley quickly ducked behind a column in responses to the shouting. Shouting mostly lead to pitchforks, torches and a bad time for him.

“Greeting Master Crowley” she said, tried to smile and make her voice sound cheerful but her eyes were screaming at Sister Mary Loquacious. If she wasn’t holding The Anti-Christ, she may have shoved her out of harm’s way (harm’s way meaning any damage Sister Loquacious could cause to others, not the other way around). Sister Annabelle stopped next to her sister, peering at the bundle in her arms. The baby gurgled quietly. She quickly curtsied to Master Crowley who was still looking between the nuns wondering if he could slip out before anyone noticed.

The double doors leading to the hospital rooms flew open and a furious old nun stormed through. This was not part of the plan. She ran her icy gaze over the two nuns, who both know the consequences of that stare. Her eyes found Crowley who was trying not to look like a rabbit in the headlights, he was a demon after all. There was no escape now.

Long hair, sunglasses, modern suit, snakeskin shoes? Not what she though one of hell’s best demons would look like. She raised an eyebrow and forced a smile.

“Master Crowley, you’re just in time.” she walked slowly with an air of control. Crowley drew himself up to his full height. The Mother Superior had the eyes of a school master and they are well known for making even the naughtiest individuals squirm.

“Sister Annabelle, please go and retrieve the child of the ambassador and inform the other sisters that the switch will be taking places presently.” she smiled at the terrified nun who swallowed and nodded, turning to hurrying down the hall. Crowley tried to sidle towards the door. He stopped dead when the older nun eyes dropped on him. He tried to give her a confident smile.

“Master Crowley, if you would just pop over to the desk, we have a few papers for you to sign just to keep everything in order.” she turned and glided over to the foyer desk and began to draw papers out of a file. Crowley reluctantly followed her, dumping the now empty carry cot on the desk before propping himself up on it.

Sister Mary Loquacious frowned. She rocked the Anti-Christ in her arms. He was chewing on his hand. She had checked, it didn’t have claws. She looked up at Master Crowley and frowned again. She walked over to the desk,

“Umm Master Crowley?” she asked and terrifying yellow eyes looked at her over dark sunglasses. Something in the very pit of her soul screamed and told her to run. It was the same part that makes skulls scary, even though they are always smiling. She took a step back,

“Yeah?” he grunted. Mother Superiors levelled her glare at the Sister. She didn’t notice, now over the shock of yellow eyes she felt bolder,

“What is going to happen to the spare baby?” she asked. Crowley rolled his eyes to the Mother superior who was trying to set the younger nun on fire via sheer force of will. Without taking her eyes of her pray the Mother Superior said,

“Yes, that was something I was going to ask you as well Master Crowley. We are willing to go through with the switch, but we want nothing to do with disposing of the baby,” her eyes now turned on Crowley “We may be satanic Nuns, but we are not monsters.” Crowley paused at this juxtaposition. He huffed and turned back to the paperwork, one of hells better inventions,

“Put it in the carry cot, I will deal with it,” Crowley replied absentmindedly. “Sure, why not?” Crowley thought “Not like it will matter in a few years anyway”. Sister Mary Loquacious ginned the kind of grin that would suggest she didn’t quite understand what was going on.

“Sister Mary, please take The Young Lord down to Sister Annabelle.” Mother Superior said as she started pulling out more official looking papers. Crowley slouched at the prospect of more paperwork. Sister Mary Loquacious nodded happily and pushed through the double doors leading to the hospital rooms. Now that The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this world, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness was out of eyesight, Crowley felt a weight off his back. He no longer wanted to vomit.

Sister Mary Loquacious had found a potable cot for the anti-Christ, in which he now rested. his red blanket tucked around him. She pushed him down the hall spotting sister Annabelle pushing a similar cot out of room 4. Sister Mary paused outside room 3 ready to make the swap. A putrid smell began to waft up the hall. Both sisters gaged. A similar smell began to rise form the baby in the cot in front of Sister Mary and the babies began to cry in unison. Sister Annabelle reached Sister Mary, her face pushed into her shoulder and her eyes watering.  

“I think our lord has made us an offering,” she gaged as she spoke, “and this little man has also given us a gift too”. She pushed open the door to delivery room 3 and hurriedly pushed the cot in. Sister Mary followed with her own charge.

 “You change the babies and I will fetch the carry cot from Master Crowley.”. It was clearly just a excuse to getting out of having to be in same room as the stench for any longer but Sister Mary didn’t want to argue. The smell was truly awful.

In the bed, Mrs Young turned over a frown wrinkling her brow, some internal mothering instinct told her that a baby needed changing but something else told her it wasn’t hers so sleep on.

Sister Mary hesitated as she plucked the Anti-Christ from his cot and laid him on the changing table beside the door. She unwrapped the blanket and dropped it back in the cot. The baby whimpered as she removed the dirty nappy and cleaned him. She cooed at him. “Imagine little me changing the Destroyer of worlds’ nappy and powdering his little tush.” Sister Mary thought to herself. The baby in the other cot began to cry.

The mother in the bed yawned but stayed asleep. In an attempted sooth the baby, Sister Mary picked the ambassadors baby up. He was a chunky baby and quite heavy. Sister Mary had to shift him about a bit before they were both comfortable. The white blanket was lost in this juggling. As she bounced the baby the door to the room opened. Expecting sister Annabelle, Sister Mary turned to face the door where a man peering around the door.

“Err Hello. I’m the father, the husband, whatever.” He stammered, walking over to stand by his wife. Looking up he wondered over to the babies looking down at the baby on the changing table.

“Is this him?” he asked in awe. The baby looked up at him and immediately began to cry. Terrified about what he had done he scooped up the baby and began to pat his back.

“Umm no, these two not yours. Your baby is with your wife over there.” She nodded towards Mrs Young and the cot next to her.

Sister Mary was beginning to gag over the smell coming from the baby in her arms, she laid him on the changing table and began to clean him up.

After soothing the baby in his arms, Mr Young laid the baby down in the empty crib. He picked up the white blanket and tucked it around the baby. He walked over to the cot next to his wife and looked down at the baby. A small part of him was hopeful that he would look upon the face of his child and instantly recognized it as his own. But when he looked down at the sleeping baby, he looked identical to the two with the nun. This one was a little smaller but there wasn’t a moment of recognition. Of course, he didn’t say that. He smiled and looked back at the nun who was disposing of the nappy in a small bin next to the table.

“You know he looks like me.” He said proudly. The Nun smiled at him, rewrapping the baby,

“Have you thought of a name?” she asked. There was a nervous air about her. That probably came with having to look after two babies at once. He had new respect for people with twins and triplets.

 They had discussed names but not come to any solid concoctions, they had a name if it had been a girl and after twitching the blanket back it couldn’t be used anymore. The baby snuffled in its sleep; Mr. Young jumped back afraid that he would make it cry like he had the other child.

“We haven though of any names for a boy,” he explained as the nun had finished changing the baby in front of her. Then, looking down at the second with a frown, she looked at the baby in her arms. After a moment hesitant, she seemed to come to a conclusion and plopped it in the second cot wrapping it in the red blanket.

 “Well, what about the classic like Luke, John, Adam. Bible names and the like?” She rocked the babies in the cots. Mr. Young though about this for a second as he looked back at his son. He didn’t really look like any of those names, but they were good honest names. Suddenly a nun scuttled into the room. She looked a little out of breath. She looked at Mr. Young the way one would look at a velociraptor. She managed to school her features and smile at him.

Sister Annabelle had returned to the front desk and immediate run into Mr. Young who had asked what room his wife was in. Directing the man to the room without a though until she had picked up the carry cot. She had just sent an imposter into the same room as The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this world, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. Picking up her heels again, she took off down the hall and was now stood with Sister Mary, two babies and the carry cot. She turned her slightly manic smile on Sister Mary. She winked. Sister Mary Winked back. They smiled at each other.

 “Baby removal services,” she laughed pushing the baby with the red blanket out of the room. She pointed at the carry cot next to the remaining baby and nodded down the hall. Sister Mary nodded back. She placed the carry cot on the changing surfaces and placed the remaining baby in the white blanket in it. Scooping up baby and carry cot she moved to leave the room,

“Umm,” said Mr. Young using the tone of someone who doesn’t want to be a bother but is no doubts going to be a problem.

“Is there any paperwork I need to fill in,” he asked nervously. Always ready to be helpful, Sister Mary nodded and beckoned for him to follow her. It wasn’t until they entered the hall that she realized this might have been a bad decision. She could see Master Crowley’s back to her when Mr. Young held the door open. Trying to think fast she walked up to him putting the now full carry cot next to him on the desk.

 “Here is you son Master Crowley,” she said as way of explanation. The yellow eyes turned on her and the primal urge to run shot up her spine. Mr. Young was too distracted to notice, walking up next to her and leaned against the desk.

“Umm, does the birth certificate need signing?” he asked looking over the desk at all the papers. The Mother Superior who had been overseeing Crowley filling out all the correct papers in the right places. It wouldn’t do to have buggered up the paperwork on such a big job. She pulled a file over the papers and put on her best plastic smile. She flicked through the relevant files and produced a birth certificate for Mr. Young. She also pulled one out and handed it to Crowley. Conscious of the presents of Mr. Young, Crowley took the offered page. Mr. Young peeked into cot at the baby.

“He’s a cute one,” he says trying to rope Crowley into a conversation so he can talk about his own kid. Crowley doesn’t acknowledge him. Not deterred, Mr. Young filled in the birth certificate leaving the name till last. He still needed to talk to his wife about it.

“Though of a name yet?” he asked. Again, this was met by silenced. Mr. Young looked over at Crowley, he was well dressed and very out of places here. He didn’t have the look of expectant father. He looked worried.

“We were thinking about Adam,” he continued. This conversation was going to happen even if he had to do it himself. However, this got a reaction out of the other man. He laughed. He snorted then laughed out loud.

“Something wrong with Adam?” Mr. Young questioned, getting slightly defensive over a possible name for his son. The man pushed his long hair back away from his face. He was handsome, even Mr. Young had to admit that.

“No, it’s a fine name. But I knew an Adam once, he was a complete bastard,”.

Sister Mary giggled under her breath. But then frowned at the thought of how a demon knew the original Adam. She puzzled over this for the rest of the conversation.

Mr. Young let his shoulders drop,

“What would you suggest then?” he asked sheepishly. Crowley turned on him and Mr. Young had to squash a sudden urge to back away and make himself small. Crowley looks him up and down before speaking. His emotionless sunglasses making it feel like he wasn’t blinking. He wasn’t but behind the glasses no one could tell.

“Something royal may be. Henry, James, William?” he suggested. Mr. Young felt better about these names.

 Crowley looked back at the almost complete page in front of him.

“It doesn’t matter, it will all be over in eleven years anyway.” Crowley mumbled glumly as he looked at the last section of the certificate

FIRST NAME:

It was blank. He stared at it. Did he have to name it?

“Oh,” Mr. Young said confused. In an effort to change the typic he looked into the cot again, “You know, he looks like an Adam.” he added.

Crowley huffed but he couldn’t think of anything better. Plus, it made sense in an ironic way. Crowley scribbled the name down on the final dotted line on the page pushing it towards the nun. He snatched the carry cot of the desk and strode out the lobby. Mr. Young tried to wave goodbye, but Crowley was long gone.

 Sister Annabelle handed the baby to the ambassador’s wife who looked down at him with the love of a first-time mother,

“Sorry that took so long Your Ladyship, he is such a scrumptious little man. Every nun in the convent had to coo at him,” Sister Annabelle sighed as she stood back, her job was done. She really needs a cup of tea now.

Mother Superior quietly pushed open the door and came in.

“Oh what a little lord,” she said causing all nuns in the room to smile. “Have you thought of a name?”

 The convent burnt down that night. However, the only paperwork that was destroyed was form that night. Apart from the birth certificate of one James Henry Young

 Crowley pulled the Bentley into a short dead-end road that was the entrances to a farmer’s field. He cut the engine and the lights of the snarling beast of a car disappeared, leaving only the dark hedgerow in front of him.

The silence enveloped the car, seeming to seep in through all the gaps in the doors and poured out of the vents. Soon Crowley was engulfed in it. He paused, appreciating the moment. The sound of the engine cooling was the only noise that could be heard inside the car. The carry cot next to him cooed. He looked over at his new acquisition and pulled it closer to him. He carefully pulled the small and oh so delicate baby out and laid him across his knees looking up at him. The baby yawned but seemed very much awake. The white blanket that was bundled around him stopping his arms from moving.

Crowley huffed and rubbed his faces pushing his glasses off slightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and began to mutter at the baby,

“Okay first test,”

He pulled his glasses off completely and crouched over the baby sticking his tough out. Letting the glamor over it drop so the tips flicked over the babies scrunched up little nose. His eyes almost glowed yellow in the darkness he didn’t show his true, true form just these small parts. The Baby screeched and Crowley jerked back worried, but unsurprised, that he had terrified the poor thing. When the screech turned into a gurgling laugh, he looked back at the baby who had wiggled free an arm and was grabbing at Crowley with a gummy grin. Slight confused Crowley rewrapped the baby in his white blanket and shifted it to be cradled in his arms,

“Okay so you passed the first test. Now we need to go other some ground rules if this arrangement is going to work out.”.

The baby babbled at him trying to wiggle free of his confines. He seemed fine with the whole yellow eyes and snake toung though. Probably knew no different, Crowley wondered leaning back in the driver’s seat.

“So I will house you, feed you and take care of you until you have worked out how to use a toilet after that we can look into the walking, talking, reading, writing business but there are some conditions that you have to uphold,”.

The baby sneezed, looked shocked at this strange turn of events, blinked a few times before looking back up at the demon. Now that he had the baby’s attention again Crowley continued,

“Firstly, the family you came from, the one that has the antichrist.” The baby watched him with uncanny eyes that seemed to understand what he was saying. That or more worryingly for Crowley he was ranting at a newborn infant that had no idea what was going on and was just watching him make noises in the dark car.

“Warlock, they called him Warlock.”

The baby gave him a half smile, hoping that the smile was from recognizing the name.

“You’re gonna have to be friends with that brat. secondly you will not get in my way or interfere with my work.”

The baby yawned at him. It seemed that all the excitement was getting the better of him its eyes began to slip closed. Crowley rocked him slightly trying not to enjoy holding the child, a small part of him that was thought to be long dead, started to thaw. He placed the baby back in the carry cot in the passenger’s seat. The baby whimpered at the movement but settled back in the crib snuggling into the blanket.

Crowley backed out and onto the road, where was the nearest mother care?

 Azriaphale had just got back to the book shop when the phone rang. He paused hanging his coat up on its peg, before picking it up, he suspected who it might be but wasn’t sure. He plucked the phone from the handle and held it daintily to his ear,

“I’m dreadfully sorry but I’m afraid we are closed at the...,” his polite but discouraging scripted was cut by a very familiar voice,

“It’s me Angel.”

It sounded although Crowley was making this call from a phone box. Oh dear, what trouble had he gotten himself into now.

“Crowley? Is that you?” he asked anyway knowing the answer,

“Yes. We need to talk.” He said matter of factly.

“Yes, I rather think we do.” Azriaphale thought of the conversation he had had with Gabriel earlier that day.

Crowley looked through the window of the Bentley at the sleeping baby inside. He hung up the phone and got back into the car. He looked over at the child. He was so small. Crowley stroked his cheek with a black nailed finger.

“You have no idea what is going on. I envy you Adam,” the baby sighed in his sleep.

[princessvicky01]

Imposition

Part 8 of Annabel X Cullen epilogue story ‘Happily ever after’ following them after the events of trespasser.  

Click for: Whole story on AO3 or Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7

Summary: Cullen and Annabel finally make it to visit his family who've moved back to Honnelth. Full of warm fuzzy tooth-rotting family fluff and then there is smut of course. NSFW - Pregnancy sex

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Imposition

“Mama! Mama! The imposition is here! Mama! Come see!”

The little girl’s jubilant cheer draws a bark from the mabari by Annabel’s side who bounces to stick his head out the window. Prince seems to favour the wind against his slobbery chops, and all but leans out the carriage with his stump wagging furiously as they pull to a stop. Annabel must admit she’s grateful too, the chance of a few weeks rest in a real bed has been calling to her in the way it always did after a long journey.

When the door opens the hound all but falls out, making the cabin lurch and sending her sprawling, thankfully, Cullen, is quick as always to lend a steady hand and catch her as she stumbles.

Hmm. The title ‘Imposition’ may have been correct after all. Honnelth isn’t so much a village as a small hamlet of stone farm cottages, and their arrival must have all but doubled the population of the place. The announcement had clearly reached every household, and a crowd had gathered to greet them with hushed murmurings. Annabel can’t help but be suspicious of the sideways looks that are traded, being judged was never a pleasant experience, even though it is one she’s used to. Years at playing the game allowed her to see past the whispers and find that most of the folk seemed merely curious and nod in welcome if her gaze lingers on them long. That wasn’t usually the vibe she got from crowds like this but in a way its what she should have expected, they were welcoming back a successful one of their own.

A tiny spark of paranoia about her hand crackles with the green gemstone, and she curls her prosthetic fingers to hide the faint glow. She wants to be seen for her and not as the Herald of Andraste, although that seems impossible nowadays, the two have largely become one and the same, forever interwoven, in the public’s eyes.

Glancing to Cullen, she notes how his eyebrows have drawn in, searching the scores of people with scrutiny, evidently seeking someone who isn’t there based on the way his eyes continue to narrow. She gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, whatever judgement she’s feeling must be tenfold for him, and she doesn’t envy him in the slightest. Excitement buzzes along with the nerves, and she bumps her hip against his in the hope of transferring some of that positive fizz over.

Her action has little to no effect, and she notes his focus is glued to a slow emerging path. It’s being cut through the mass by the forceful march of a tall and broad-shouldered woman. Her wavy golden hair is tied up in a loose bun, and strands of flaxen locks wisp in the breeze as she pushes her way through. The steely determination in her copper-rich eyes confirm what Annabel had already guessed; this must be Mia.

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford,” the lady remarks, one hand on her hip and a light smirk gracing her features. “And just what brings the Commander of the Inquisition’s mighty forces all the way out here?” 

Before he can answer a squeal from behind her sounds, and another shorter, plumper, blonde woman with a babe in arms pokes her head around. Unlike her big sister, Rosalie rushes straight over to him, with another young child in tow, and both proceed to hug him tightly.

Cullen can’t help but be overwhelmed at the turnout, at the way Mai somehow looks just how he remembered, despite the years, and how Rosalie clutches him like she had when they were small. Could it be they had really missed him? Even after all his failings? He’d lost count of the ways he’d let them down. From the blight, losing mother and father, the upheaval of the move, the poverty it had brought them, right up to the way they had rebuilt their lives piece by piece. All without him. All while he had been too consumed by his own Templar duties, his own dark obsessive mission to control mages in a way that would make his siblings skin crawl.

Their smiles though, welcome him in a way that only loved ones could and tentative warmth begins to creep through his chest. He might not deserve their love or such a heartfelt welcome, but Maker only knows he needed it. He hugs them back, his hand falling on his nephew's shoulder and squeezing. He’d been so foolish to stay away so long, too insecure of his worth he’d gladly let himself be blinded by his work, that he knows now had been a terrible mistake. Emotion wells in the back of his throat, and he has to pull away from their embrace or risk tears spilling out of him.

Cullen spies Branson approaching by Mai’s side and can’t believe just how much of a man his little brother has become, tall but lean with muscle, scars peppering his arms, and one across his cheek all combining to tell the tale of a hard life. He also can’t help but notice that while Mia and Rosalie's husbands hover on the sidelines, Branson’s wife is notably absent. Mia had let him know that she’d died shortly after giving birth to a little boy and guilt begins to ebb into the corners of Cullen’s mind. It’s just another example of a time when his family had needed him, and he hadn’t been there. Annabel’s burst of laughter, however, pulls him back from the dark tendrils of his thoughts before he can become consumed them. Glancing down finds that the source is the great big hug their nephew, Bran, is giving her waist.

Looking to the beaming smiles all around him and down then down at young Bran, Cullen can’t help but crack his own. Branson had muscled in to claim a spot and extends his hand for a hearty shake.

“It’s been far too long,” Mia murmurs, squeezing his arm, there's no chastity to it, just the tell-tale ache of old longing. Surrounded now by family, Cullen knows she’s right, and an apology begins to stutter from his lips, but she promptly shakes her head.

“There’s no need, it’s just good to see you,” Mia’s smile is soft, and she locks eyes with him. She’d always had a way of getting her point across, and it seems nothing had changed in that regard. She clearly would hear no apology, not now at least, so he refrains from trying to give one.

“And you must be Annabel!” Rosalie lights up as she turns to her.

Little Bran swivels his focus up at his new aunt. “The Herald? The warrior with the magic hand? Can I see?”

Instinct pulls Annabel's prosthetic hand away, hiding it slightly behind her back, a kindling of shame still marring her once open nature. This, however, is her nephew, and his gaze is nothing but brightly curious. Holding her palm out to him, she can almost feel the old crackle the mark would've made as her nerves tingle, but the stone merely pulses lightly.

“Wow! Papa, did you see!?” Tugging her hand Bran lifts it high over his head to show his father with all the grace of a clumsy four-year-old, and big dark eyes the sparkle in the green hue.

“Hmm, yes it’s very interesting, but that’s no way to treat a Lady is it? Especially not your new aunty,” Branson raises a brow, and his son instantly drops her hand.

“Oops, sorry!” The boy is scooped up by his father, and the baby in Rosalie's arms snuffles a cry at the commotion, or perhaps merely demanding some of the attention for herself.

“And here is little Julie, your niece,” Rosalie presents the baby to Annabel, and for a moment she stares blankly at the child. Annabel isn’t sure how she should hold her or that being handed to a stranger will improve the little one’s mood. Scrunching her face, the baby begins to muffle a sob, but Rosalie's press into Annabel’s arms is insistent. “Go on! You’ll have your own soon enough, oh, I can’t wait, another cousin for Julie!”

More than a little overwhelmed Annabel takes the baby and does her best to support her. She’d never been overly interested in babies, unlike many young noble ladies who might coo around a new arrival in frilly lace she was more likely to pull silly faces at them until they'd either laughed or cried. The same went for how she’d treated babies most of her life. She’d never even had a doll. She’d been gifted many as a child, ones in elaborate satin dresses with beautiful curls of hair and hand-painted smiles. They’d mostly sat on shelves gathering dust as she charged around with her brother and their wooden swords causing the kind of chaos such pristine dolls would no doubt roll their eyes at. That thought had always unnerved her slightly.

Despite whatever reservations Annabel might have, she finds a natural smile is drawn out of her at the sight of Julie. She must admit, she is awfully cute, with a tiny nose, flushed round cheeks and a faint dusting of blonde curls. Somehow, she even smells new, if such a thing was possible, and her tiny grunts, complimented by scrunched fists make Annabel’s chest start to glow. Sensing Cullen’s looming presence she looks up and finds him staring at the bundle with a soft lopsided smile that spoke of a besotted father to be. She can’t help but wonder if their child will have a mop of curls, it seems to be a Rutherford trait and one that Annabel hopes continues.

“Right, come on, let’s get you all inside. I imagine you could do with a cup of tea, maybe one of those cakes Rosalie made, come on now.” Mia ushers them like a mother goose, guiding the swollen family as one, after little Bran who rushes ahead with the dog to one of the stone buildings jutting around them.

Entering the cottage Cullen can’t help but find it much smaller than he remembered, quaint even. It’s no wonder really, he’d been but a child the last time he’d been in here and had since lived in circles, temples and Skyhold. Somehow the low beams and thick walls just make the space feel homelier, more lived in, loved. Dry and fresh herbs hang from the kitchen’s beams, along with copper pots all of which direct the gaze to the oak dining table set out with tea, crumpets and small buttercream cakes. The assorted goodies are all surrounding a painted vase filled with idyllic purple meadow flowers, ones which Cullen vaguely recalls were mother’s favourites. It does seem his sister has thought of everything, as always.

A thousand ancient, long lost memories, flutter to the surface. The strongest are drawn out by the smell of stew in the oven which reminds him of long chilly days, of laughter around a crowded table, of his mother, perched on his father’s hip, tea towel in hand which she used to wipe at his dirt-crusted hands. He struggles to recall her voice now, but the way her smile had always beamed with warmth had never left him. Tears begin to well in the corner of his eyes, but they’re quickly pushed aside as a child’s voice captures his attention.

“Uncle Cul, look,” with an instant shove, a folded travelling chess board that had long since seen better days, is placed in his hands. His fingers trail over the names etched into the side, his own, crudely scratched along with his sibling’s, and now with Bran’s. “Mia said you was good but not as good as me,” the boy gives an impish grin, cheeks flushed red with excitement. “Can we play?”

“After tea, now go, sit down,” Mia has already swooped in and is leading the boy to a stool set out just for him, leaving Cullen holding a piece of his childhood which, although battered and scarred, was still very much loved. He sure there is a metaphor in that somehow.

The others shuffle in, Mia pouring tea and Bran takes hold of his niece and begins to pull silly faces. When hands wrap around his waist, Cullen doesn’t need to look around to know who they belong too. He can feel her breath prickle the back of his neck, and soon her nose follows to nuzzle under his ear in the kind of open affection he’d come to love from her. “Happy?” it’s a light word, whispered against his skin where Annabel’s lips pepper reassuring kisses.

Overcome, Cullen merely nods, turning so their eyes can meet. The dazzling blue of hers finally brings out the joyful smile which had been wanting out him from the moment he’d arrived. This is home. She is home. His lips find hers to share a tender kiss, one which is cut all too short thanks to the disgusted ‘ewwww’ that sounds from their nephew at the table.

“You've done well for yourself, Cullen,” Mia’s voice is deliberately soft as she emerges to lean against the door frame, tea towel over one shoulder and hair now slightly frazzled from steam. He glances up to her with a little nod, catching how that frazzled appearance went much further than skin deep. “I was worried… Well, I was worried for the longest time after what happened at Kinloch, then you moving to Kirkwall… but I can see, I don't need to worry anymore.”

“Mia...” his head lowers, shoulders slumping under the weight of years of guilt and failure. “I... I’m sorry, I didn’t, I -"

“That's enough, I won't have you apologising to me, you've done nothing wrong,” she taps him on the head with the spotted rag in mock sternness. “You helped save Thedas, helped hundreds of people, just like you said you would, just like I knew you would.” Her eyes and smile match in the depth of their warmth before she quickly nods out to the field. “You also somehow found yourself a most radiant wife… You should be proud.”

Cullen can sense the depth of emotion that wells within her eyes, and which lies hidden behind her cheery tone. To avoid more awkward apologies, and poor explanations he instead follows her line of sight to see Annabel playing sword with young Bran. Their brother is shouting advice from the sidelines while Prince bounds around in giddy excitement, do nothing to help the child’s concentration. That was an important part of battle though, learning to focus on the target when chaos ran riot around you, he smiles faintly to himself, he is not playing the role of Commander right now, but still, it seems he can’t help but judge their swings.

The cracks of their wooden practice blades can be heard clear across the field, as can the chortle of laughter and baying of the hound. Exact words are lost to the wind, but Cullen can see all are smiling from ear to ear. When his wife pauses to brush damp hair from her face, their eyes catch briefly despite the distance. He wasn't sure it was possible, but her smile appears to grow even wider as it greets him.

Sensing his chance, Bran rushes at her and Cullen can see it all unfold in slow motion horror before his eyes. The boy’s feet pound against the grass, sword held high above his head, his full force blow aimed right at her stomach. Muscles clenching, Cullen’s breath catches in his throat as panic rushes up, he goes to cry out, already halfway to his feet, but it all happens too fast, and he can’t find the words beyond a strangled anguished cry.

Annabel apparently spies his concern, and with a dart to the side, she rolls to avoid the strike which sails clear over her.

Thank the Maker… Cullen still clutches the bench tight under his fingernails, his breath sharp and erratic. Sometimes he still forgets that his bright and beautiful wife was not a defenceless lady, and she never had been. Pregnancy tummy or not, she wasn’t about to change into someone who froze or cowered at a blow. She’d been training since Bran’s age, and it shows in the way she swoops around to scoop the child up in her arms.

A gentle hand on his shoulder brings Cullen from his poised position and inches him back down onto the bench. All is well. In fact, Annabel is ruffling Bran’s curls in mock retribution, her bright, playful smile apparently dazzling the boy into a fit of giggling.

“She'll be a brilliant mother.” Mia’s voice cuts through the serene moment to bring Cullen back to her and one of near equal serenity. Sat on a bench made by their father, at the edge of a field which backed onto his family's homestead, enjoying life’s simple pleasures in the dappled shade of a tree he’d frequently climbed in his youth. The problems of the past two years, of the past decade, somehow seeming to fade into a haze in the freshness of the breeze.

“I know,” it's a murmur, a solemn affirmation made as his eyes never leave Annabel. She's already moved on to squaring up with his brother while Bran chases Prince, who has somehow got hold of his sword and is happy as can be with his new, highly prized, stick.

“I've never met anyone quite like her…” he trails off, his voice distant and awestruck. He still can’t believe his luck, that he’d found her, that she’d returned time after time to him, that she loved him, that she loved their baby…

“I imagine she thinks the same of you, or else she wouldn't have joined this shambles of a clan,” his sister nudges him playfully with her elbow. “Who would’ve thought, my shy little brother, stumbling over his words, able to woo himself a real noble Lady. Just to bring her home, and play with sticks in the dirt like a real Rutherford.”

Cullen chuckles, the sound made all the richer by witnessing his wife giving Branson a good thrashing from the moment they square off. He wouldn’t have believed it either if someone had told him back in Kirkwall this would be his future, he would have called them mad, heck, he probably would have called them possessed. The mere notion that he could marry a woman like her, could find happiness in the light she shone into his darkest places, well it was as alien as a fish on land.

“Why don't you join them? It looks like Branson could use your help,” Mia’s voice is light with laughter as Annabel shows that she's still very much the warrior she always had been.

Cullen shakes his head all too swiftly with the huff of another chuckle. “I've lost more than enough times to that woman. I'll never hear the end of it.”

“Ah, yes, well you always was the more sensible out of the pair of you,” Mia pauses and winces as Branson takes a strike which will no doubt leave a nice bruise on his arm. “Radiant... and dangerous, your wife.”

Casting her a sideways smirk Cullen all but brims over with pride. “Very much so.”

Annabel isn’t very good at washing dishes and despite everyone's instance that there was no need for her to help she’s determined to be useful, although she’s quickly handed to drying duty as a rather weary Branson washes. Sat at the oak table Cullen studies her, he’d tried, much in vain to help, but she’d pushed him back into his chair and said something about him needing a break.

While faint orange rays catch the bronze in her hair, he can’t help but think Mia’s description of her was spot on. She is truly radiant… and dangerous. There is a glow about her skin in the soft lighting and when she deliberately pokes at a sore spot on Branson’s arm for being too slow the later part of the description comes into play to make him chuckle.

Sipping at his warm tea he soaks in the serenity of the moment, his hound is asleep, snoring under the table, his family are chattering next door, and his pregnant wife is stubbornly trying to place glasses on a shelf that’s far too tall for her.

His brother steps in, and when done dips out with a nod to him and warm if not tired smile. Annabel is soon back at his side, arm wrapped over his shoulders as she perches against him in their first moment alone since arriving.

“How you feeling?” she asks, head leaning to one side to rest against his, instinct draws his arm around her waist to hug her close.

“It’s been a long day… but I’m glad we came.”

“So, in other words, still happy,” she jests, nudging and nuzzling her nose in his curls until he breaks out a smile.

“I’ve never been happier,” he gives her a little squeeze, the familiar scent and feel of her soothing his weariness away.

“Good,” slipping from his lap she tugs on his hand. “In that case, you can bring those bedroom eyes of you’ve been making at me all evening, to a more, private, setting,” her own eyes sparkle as a little inviting smirk dances over her lips.

The distance she’s put between them is too much, and Cullen finds himself stood up to wrap his arms around her once more. “A tempting offer, Mrs Rutherford, but I hardly want the whole household to know just how thoroughly you enjoy your husbands, intimate, company…”

Annabel gives a smile that on anyone else would be coy, but on her is always edged with mischief, her hand coming up to play with the curl that’s fallen loose over his forehead. “Don’t worry. I’m nothing if not discreet.”

“Oh, really?” Not believing it for a second, Cullen lifts one brow and studies how her eyes grow steadily darker in the fading light. With a chuckle she pulls away, hand clasped in his to drag him along, he gets a few steps, his body acting by will of its own before he pulls up short.

“Annabel… we shouldn’t…” It’s not that he doesn’t want to, Maker’s breath, he’s never wanted her more, but his eyes are drawn to the small but distinct swell of her stomach.

“Why... “ she trails off, her brow lightly furrowing as she lets go to regard him with suspicion. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me,” her eyes narrow to let him know she won’t tolerate his attempted cover-up. “You’ve not wanted to… you know… Well, I’ve never exactly had to force you into anything before, but ever since Ostwick you’ve been, off, with me. I can’t say I like it very much.”

“Annabel, I’m sorry,” his hand reaches out, but she takes a half step out of reach.

“Then tell me what's wrong,” she repeats, her heels clearly dug in and unwilling to budge. Knowing he can’t convince her otherwise Cullen sighs then gestures to her tummy.

“You mean because I’ve got fat!” Annabel’s eyebrows shoot up incredulously.

“Maker’s breath! What?! I… I, no, no, not all, that’s not what… What I meant was-”

“Everything ok in there?” Mia’s voice echoes down the stone corridor, and he has to step in quickly before Annabel has the chance to dig him an even bigger hole.

“We’re fine, thank you,” he hollers with a distinct old air of authority. Annabel stiffens and gives a little growl, but accepts his embrace and the way he presses his palm over the curve of her navel. “You know you're beautiful… radiant, even,” he murmurs, rubbing her tummy. “It's just... I don’t want to... you know…” he trails off, losing the words to the heat tickling up his neck and fraying his thoughts. “Hurt you. Either of you,” he nods downwards, and the penny seems to finally drop.

The harshness she’d embodied moments ago melts away, like the bristles of a hissing cat that turns to warm fluff under a soothing caress. “Oh, Cullen,” she murmurs, snuggling her body closer and wrapping her arms up around his neck until she’s gazing up at him from under long, thick lashes. “You do know that's impossible, right?”

“I know…” he sighs, eyes darting away, but the blush remaining. He had asked the midwife and the medic a thousand questions back in Ostwick, they’d been patient at first and indulged him, but he’d had to let his wife ask about lovemaking when he’d repeatedly failed to get the words out. “But… How can anyone be certain? I… I couldn’t bear it if I…” he trails off, the thought is too distressing to even put into coherent words. Her thumb comes up to brush his cheek and travels along the stubble of his jaw, a tender touch that speaks of nothing but care.

“We don’t have to do anything. But I promise you won’t hurt us, either of us… we can always go slow and gentle…” her lips brush over his now, the words and action a mirror of her suggestion. “See how we go… besides,” another brush of his cheek, her pitch lowering, darkening. “We both seem to be very good with our mouths,” her lips press against his, and he can’t resist the taste of her. The sound of her voice is honey sweet, with a rasp of lust that never fails to allure him, and the taste is like heaven itself.

Magnificent woman… who once again astounds him. A distinct pulse of arousal twitches him to life. It seems she approves as she hums against into the kiss, a delightful noise that only seems to deepen the pooling desire growing between them.

“I suppose I could try,” he murmurs, the hint of a smirk on his lips as they part.

“Well, only if it’s not too much of an imposition,” she drawls, fingertips plucking loosely at his collar. A loud squeak erupts from her as he squeezes both her ample cheeks in his broad palms. At the noise, the murmur from the front room grows quiet, and both know they’ve been heard. “This way,” with a conspiratorial whisper and a tug she’s already leading him out the back door.

“You Mrs Rutherford, are one very naughty woman,” he rumbles, holding her small hand in his, eyes transfixed on the sway of her hips as she leads him very much astray.

“So I’ve been told,” Annabel’s voice is now a purr radiating warmly through her chest as she treads carefully across the yard towards the carriage. Stepping up she tosses brunette locks over her shoulder before casting her wicked gaze at him. “But the question is, just how naughty?” Her smirk is the kind which would have made him blush in his teenage years and the kind which now only seeps a deviant look through his eyes.

Stepping in he finds the space is cramped, lit by one dim lantern, and the seating is still awash with silk cushions. For the most part, he can’t even stand up straight, but that doesn't matter… it seems his wife was resourceful after all, its private, secluded, and all too cosy. “Very,” he rumbles, the sound resounding in the small space to make her giggle, a sultry sound which is swiftly masked by the lock of the door.

His hands are all over her all at once, and Annabel can’t help but mould herself around him. Leg hitching as she stumbles in the tight space and falls to land with a chuckle against the cushions. Brushing hair from her face, Annabel looks up just in time to catch Cullen’s wolfish lopsided smirk. She narrows her eyes playfully, her foot rubbing against his leg as he looked down at her with all the predatory hunger of the lion she’d married.

Slipping to his knees, he pinches at her dress, then slowly inches it up over her thighs, his amber rich eyes firmly locked on hers as he takes his sweet time. Soon her leggings are being slowly peeled away to prise her thighs open before him, and a flood of want drowns her. Damn perfect man... kissing his way up her inner thigh tickles and excites, the scrape of his stubble over every damp patch of skin he leaves sends tiny pulses of pleasure up to her core.

“Naughty man…” she pants, her fingers finding those luscious golden curls and scritching against his scalp. Suddenly one of his hands has her splayed open, on full and glistening display, distinctly delicious enough to make him hungrily rumble. The sound shudders pleasure through the aching heat in her core. It’s been far too long since she’s had his undivided, his earnest and, oh so, sinful attention, far far too long.

“Very,” his rich baritone and the breath of air against wet folds is enough to make her gasp. Anticipation fires through every nerve to set her heart thundering, a pant tumbles from her, wanton and desperate. He answers with the flat of his tongue, and one long, languid lick, up her centre. A shock of pleasure pulls her muscles tight, the fingers in his hair now kneading, urging him to deliver more. And like the Maker sent man he is, he willingly obliges.

Dipping in, Cullen kisses at her entrance, dancing his tongue over the sweet bud that wants his utter devotion. Instinct rocks her hips as he takes his time paying every intimate inch of her his uppermost attention. His nose nuzzles against her, his fingers dig in a little tighter as he forces his tongue a little deeper, and when he sucks, pleasure throbs through to snatch the air from her lungs. Laying back she moans her most wholehearted approval. She could carry on like this forever, letting him explore, letting him devote himself to her and worship her in a way like no other had, always hungry for more.

Despite all this though, she still craves far more than his mouth. As glorious as it is, it doesn’t stretch her, doesn’t fill her, doesn’t pound her in the way she desperately desires. A tug on his scalp sees Cullen’s copper tinted eyes peer up from under his brow, jaw still very firmly nestled between her thighs.

“Please,” Annabel begs and writhes under him. It’s too damn hot in this tiny space, and she grapples with her dress while her mind swims in a heady concoction of pleasure and lust. She struggles, huffing as her hair tangles and soon he’s there, pulling the garment free to leave her in nothing but a breast band that is busting at the seams.

Cullen growls on sight of her, lurching forward to nestle his face, his raw kisses between the ample swell of her bosoms. Clawing up his side she welcomes him, thighs hitching over his body to find and rub his concealed erection against where she wants it the most. Bless him, he’s careful to place no weight on her, the brunt of his force bared by powerful arms that have her firmly trapped between him and cushions.

The ping her bra as it snaps free makes a giddy laugh spill from her. Within moments Cullen's nuzzling his way over each curve to land a hungry kiss against her nipples. The pulse of pleasure mingled with a tingle of pain makes her moan, half certain she’ll be sore tomorrow but not rightly caring as he hums and with his mouth full.

“Hmmm,” he pulls back slightly letting her pert bud pop from between his lips. “I shall be sorry to share these…” he murmurs, licking one cheekily before she can truly reply.

Deliciously wicked man. A deft tug of her hand’s spills open his trousers and tugs them down over his hips. “You shall be sorry to share me and my time, full stop,” she squeezes his peachy rear, hard, dragging him up against her by his toned arse until his lips all but crash into hers.

She’s not wrong, but the fact that it will be their baby taking up her time, her energy, well, he could hardly hold a grudge. She tastes all the sweeter for the nectar still on his lips, and Cullen can already feel her hand slipping over his navel. His kiss breaks into a pant as she pumps down the length of him to send a shot of blinding pleasure and throbbing need through him.

It’s been far too long… Rumbling he pulls her flush against him, dragging his stubble along her jaw until his lips reach her ear to whisper hotly. “But for now, your all mine, Mrs Rutherford,” with that, his hands are on her hips, already helping to twist her round underneath him. He won’t take any chances, so he guides her up onto the cushions and on her knees. Running his fingers down her spine makes her buck like the temptress of a woman she is, sticking out the delicious, ample curves of her rear so he can nestle himself between her cheeks. He gives one a little tap, to hear her squeal and have her arse bounce around his cock and deliver a pulse of pleasure to all his senses.

With a slowly guided thrust he enters her, her heat hugs around him, wet and wanton, and, oh so, glorious. A curse slips from his lips as she moans and embraces all of him. Perfect woman, carrying his perfect child... Worry still niggles the corner of his mind. Despite the desire pounding through his veins with every hammer of his heart, he pulls out slightly, one of his hands slipping around her hips to brush tenderly over her stomach. “If you want me to stop-”

“Don’t you dare,” with a sharp pant, she sinks herself over him to drag loud broken moans from them both. And with that, he’s lost to her, in her, with her, together as they should be, both building pleasure until there’s nothing else.

Maker, she can barely breathe, the heat of pleasure as he stretches her, as he begins a slow and dutiful rhythm is overwhelming. It’s not the wild rutting they so often were debased too, this is something much more tender, but his thrusts are no less deep, no less satisfying. If anything, the controlled slap of his hips against her arse only serves to drag the pleasure out. Legs spreading Annabel can’t help but seek more, always seeking more, chasing the edge over which she’ll tumble, wanting all of him and nothing else. Cullen’s panted breath is hot against the damp of her back, he’s grunts confirming he’s as consumed by her as she is by him. Together they rock, back and forth, his pace growing faster as her panted moans grow louder. The steamy air fills with the mixed scent of them, musk and sweat and sex and it's downright intoxicating.

One of his hands sneaks around, calloused and firm, they knead against the bounce of her breast. Her hands press firmly against the wall, seeking purchase, something to ground her as pleasure slams through with every snap of hips.

Lightly pinching her nipple leaves sends a sharp wave of shock, pleasure and pain shooting through her until she’s left crying out his name while his cock sheaths deep inside her. Annabel’s nails claw at the wooden backboard as her cry breaks loudly from her, bliss buzzing through on the euphoric high that only he could bring. His pace falters as she shudders around him, a few sharp snaps, more brutal and carnal than the rest and it’s all too much. Another sinful moan resounds from her chest as pure pleasure blinds her. His groan meanwhile is decadently rich against her back, making a wave of molten pleasure tingle through every nerve as he comes in hot, heavy, spurts inside her.

Panting hard, Annabel comes too to find her face pressed against the carriage wall, nails still digging crescent moons into the wood's surface as she feels Cullen slide from her. The whole room rocks slightly as he collapses beside her and she wonders briefly if it had been shaking the entire time… So much for discreet. She smiles cheekily to herself, humming and nuzzling against her arm as the scorching pleasure inside fizzles down into a warm sedated glow.

Fingers lightly brush against her hip and softly her eyes open, blinking hazily in their bliss-soaked state they regard him lovingly.

“Your… I didn’t… Did I-?” Concern distorts his features as he pants the words out all too quickly.

“I’m fine… in fact… I’ve never been happier,” she mumbles, sinking to rest on her heels, head still leant against the wall, hair wildly splayed over to one side. Annabel knows a moment later she’s wrong, as Cullen smiles and rests his head back, eyes closing, chest still heaving, but his every scalped muscle relaxed… seeing him like this, that is what makes her happiest of all.

Shifting she curls herself against his side, his arms opening to loosely welcome her close, his hand finding her stomach where his fingertips lightly trace idol patterns over her skin.

“Me neither,” he replies, nestling a kiss against her forehead, his fingers continuing to devote his contented glow to her, and their baby.

---

Thank you for reading <3 Apologies it took so long to get this part done, but if you liked it likes, reblogs and comments are all gratefully recieved!

[princessvicky01]

For DWC tonight! "19. kisses meant to distract the other person from whatever they were intently doing"

For @dadrunkwriting - this got quite long and very NSFW - but i’m sure no one will mind ;p

I combined your prompt @ma-sulevin with @gugle1980 so we have: kissing so desperately that their whole body curves into the otherperson’s and kisses meant to distractthe other person from whatever they were intently doing. Thank you both for the prompts!

Cullen X Annabel - Smut, teasing, game playing - fan fic

True superiority

“You know, as the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, Ireally expected you to keep a better eye on your infantry,” said Annabel,dashing another one of his pieces from the board with a swipe.

Last time they’d played he’d let her win and now Cullenfinds himself staring at the game board blinking in dismay. Working fast he calculatesshe could sweep to victory in six moves.

Glancing up he sees how her eyes sparkle with mischief, it’snot clear if she’s seen her path to glory or if she’s merely enjoying thethrill of taking another of his pieces. His mind continues to work andreturning his full attention to the board a small smirk plays on his lips.There’s a way he can block her and win in less than five.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing,” he moves his next piece with certainty.

“You know,” she replies dropping her voice low in a way thatcaptivates is attention. It draws his eyes, which are forced to drag over herplump cleavage as she’s lent over the table. “That deviant smirk is going toget you in trouble someday.”

He chuckles lightly and cocks one eyebrow. “Deviant?”

“Yes,” she purrs, leaning further, hair falling loosely offher shoulders as she shifts to loom over the game. Lifting her hand, she curls afinger in a beckoning motion and his throat runs dry. Shuffling forwards, he takes a second to scan the gardens, they seem more orless alone. Swallowing hard he leans towards her, his pulse already beginningto throng in the way that only the anticipation of her or battle could educe.

Sure enough, her lips press against his.

He’d hardly allowed himself to imagine this moment the lasttime they played, but Maker he had wanted to. Her lips are as soft as hervoice, the kiss is slow and tender, slightly awkward given their position. Somehowher tongue slips into his mouth making his pulse jerk beforedeepening his own end of the kiss to turn it sultry. When she pulls away and smirks, he notes thatmost definitely is deviant.

“If I didn’t know better, Lady Trevelyan, I’d say you weretrying to distract me,” he quips, sitting back down to study her reaction with scrutiny.

“Why would I do athing like that?”

“I don’t know,” he states, his confidence blooming thanksto the seductive nature of her eyes as he causally leans back in his seat. “Perhapsthe leader of the Inquisition is concerned for her title of chess superiority?”

One of her feet grazes up the outside of his boot but hisfocus never leaves her expression. He knows she’s trying to distract him, but she needn’t try so hard. Her low-cut blouse and the purr of hervoice had already made up his mind long ago. If there wasn’t so many curious eyeswatching in the shadows he would simply of pounced across and taken her right then.

“Hmm, perhaps,” she muses while she sidesteps one of her pieces,saving it from its once doomed fate. It’s difficult but his eyes do flick down tothe board, she’s bought herself a few moves, but there is no denying hisvictory is inevitable…and she’s seen it too.

“We could stay here and find out,” she continues, her fingertracing down over the distinctly phallus shaped piece in blatant suggestion. “Orwe could retire to your chambers and find out where your true superiority lays?”  

Desire begins to bleed through and he can no longer resist her.Without another thought he lunges over to kiss her, cupping her cheeks in hishands and sending pieces scattering to the long grass around them.

She seems as desperate for him as he is for her. Her handswrap around his neck, her back bows, crushing their bodies together, as she melts into his arms and scorching kiss.

Panting he breaks for air, his skin now flushed and hisheart soaring. “Oh, I know the answer to that already,” he rumbles.His scar twitches as hesmirks, then he grabs her hand and tugs her up into his arms as he stands.  

Annabel allows herself to fall against his chest. Holy Andrastehow she loved it when the lion emerged, springing forward like the coiledbeast it was and taking what it wanted. She tiptoes up kiss him but he standstall, keeping his delicious smirk just out of her reach, it seems he’s finallylearning how to tease her back.

With their hands wrapped together she lets him pull herswiftly along, having to rush to keep pace with his swift strides.

As they enter his office he flings her inside before promptlyslamming the door. Giggling she speeds up his ladder before he has a chance tograb hold. She’s hardly back on her feet when he barrels into her back,staggering them both to the bed, him pulling off armour as he goes. She helpsslug his chest piece to one side so she can run her hands up his torso and therippling muscles she can feel straining there.

She reaches up for a kiss but is denied again as his faceinstead slips down to nestle in her curves. One hand undoing her blouse and brastrap while he kisses over the mounds of her breasts. The scrape of his stubblesends a shiver down her spine and already she’s wriggling free from herbottoms. His hand slips down to help, then traces finger tips up her innerthigh. The rumble which resonates from him when his fingers pass over her already wetfolds makes her mewl.

Her fingers reach down, the very tips grazing his own,she feels his body shudder, and smiles with pride. But her control over him is short lived, sternly he lifts her hand above her head and pins it there.

Once secure, Cullen wastes no time in easing himself down,leaving a trail of kisses along her stomach and across her navel until he’skissing her far more intimately. She hums as the flat of his tongue travels upher creases. His fingers clasp and dig into her thighs to hold her, splayed forhim, and then a shudder of pleasure vibrates up through her core.

He seems to relish exploring her and she is more thanwilling to allow it. He dips inside then out, his tongue swirls over sensitiveflesh, brushing her nub before he sucks. A cry resonates from her throat as he spills her over the edge with ease. He continues to lap, seeminglysavouring her, but chest heaving and nerves flooded with bliss she hardly notices his delicate touch.

Eyes pressed shut, she feels him shift. If this was a gamehe is most certainly winning as she has already lost all sense to the throng of pleasure seeping through her. He looms over her and running her hands over him herbrows knot slightly as she discovers his shirts still on. That mistake isquickly resolved with a tug up over his shoulders. When their eyes meet againshe can see lust has darkened his to burnt copper and the predator waitingwithin, is hungry and wanton.

Then without a grunt he’s inside her and the motion spills a loud broken moan fromher. It hasn’t even ended when he pants a growl and begins to fuck her into themattress beneath them. His pace is relentless, each drive sending a bolt ofbliss through her and building her demanding need.

Panting his name against his lips seems to tighten his grip on herwrist and speed him up, pain mixing with pleasure deepens her moans but hislips swallow the sound. His tongue easily dominates over hers as heburies himself against her. Into her. 

Maker’s fucking breath he’s glorious ashe pounds, giving her everything, both lost in basic primal need as the heat betweenthem soars.

With one particularly deep thrust she comes again, cryinghis name, her nails clasping the back of his hand, her face pressed up againsthis as her back turns ridged and her thighs tremble through the wake ofpleasure. The next slam inside makes his own grip tighten. His lips are so close that she nips his scar as he climaxes and the simple bite seems to make the release that much sweeter as his facecontorts and the baritone of his moan vibrates through her.

Panting he remains in place, still filling her and slowlyopens his eyes. A soft smile comes to Cullen’s lips as she tenderly clears somelose curls from his forehead. 

He rolls off her with a light groan, clearly struggling to breath as he lies flat on his back, sculpted torso covered with a gleam of sweat. She admires his spent state for a moment before he opens his arm so she can nuzzle close against him, both theirchests rising and falling rapidly as one. After a few moments of contentedsilence Annabel smiles as he speaks. 

“Shall we call it a draw, Inquisitor?”

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