#el uses her powers to make will catch the bouquet

[glitchinginhyperfixis]

in terms of a lumax wedding, steve would walk max down the aisle, el would be the maid of honor, and dustin would be the best man.

[singeramg]

Ruin Me

Quick little reader insert imagine based off this post. Based off a non-ask...

*Update: Now a full length story! Check out Masterlist for my chapters?*

Pairing:  CEO! Henry Cavill x Female! Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Power imbalance, dom! Henry, sub! reader, fingering, dirty talk...

Song choice: Funny How Time Flies- Meshell Ndegeocello

PART 2 HERE

  “ Y/N can you bring me a cup of coffee...please.”

His voice wasn’t raised but his tone told you all you needed to know. 

He was not happy. Not happy at all. 

He had called you from the phone in his office, not even bothering to call through the door or better yet come to the door himself which he usually did when he needed something from you and was in a good mood. You don’t dwell on it much and you get to your feet, and hustle over to break room to make a fresh pot of coffee. 

It doesn’t take long; you wait the ten minutes to brew, taking note that your coworkers are packing up for the night. You look at the clock and realize you better do the same.

Although you have nowhere special to be the last thing you wanted to do on a Friday night was spend more time at the office. You didn’t complain much, the job wasn’t had for you. You hadn’t been with the company long but you were sure you liked it thus far.

You were Executive Assistant to the CEO of Cavill Industries. a company he started with his brothers years ago and had grown to be a world wide force. Henry Cavill may not have been the eldest brother but he certainly was the most determined and invested of the 5 and more so than any man you had met. This was why they made him the CEO. 

You also thought that had something to do with the fact that he honestly was the best looking brother out of all of them.

The face of the company.

He had to stand out in a crowd, oh and Henry Cavill certainly did.

You could admit to no one but yourself that you had found him extremely attractive during your third and final interview where you finally got to meet him. If he wasn’t your boss, he would be exactly the type of guy you went for in terms of looks. Tall, dark curly hair, a jawline that could cut glass, dazzling smile and  sharp blue eyes that seemed to pinpoint everything 

Including any mistakes you made.

He had made adjusting to this new job hard for you.

Pointing out every mistake, forcing you to redo whole reports that people who got paid a lot more than you should have been doing

But nooooo

He ‘trusted ‘ a.k.a could hover over you while you fixed it.’ causing more late nights and overtime than you cared to think about.

Forget a social life, everything had to be about him.

You had to be everything. 

In your job interview nobody had mentioned you would be basically in charge of his life. 

Dry Cleaning, arranging his groceries to be delivered, you were even his dog walker on the days he brought his cute Akita Kal-El to the office. 

Yea that was totally fun in the heels he forced you into everyday.

You had tried wearing respectable flats after your first week with sore feet and he vetoed that almost immediately. 

Saying it wasn’t “seemly“ and that you were the assistant to the CEO and you should dress like it. Needless to say half of the time you wanted to slap him. The other time you were ridiculously turned on. I mean despite being an ass sometimes he played right into your masochistic streak. The way he spoke to you, wasn’t nasty but it had a very direct way that left no room for arguing or confusion. Just like with the heels. You normally would have argued your point, maybe even seen if he would come to some sort of compromise but you didn’t with him. You just kept the flats in your car and a pair under your desk for when you were sitting at your desk and for the days he was out of office. 

That sort of sneaky was not like you at all. You just preferred to pull off the band-aid so to speak, but Mr. Cavill was not for any of that.

All you said to him when the response he wanted was obvious was a yes sir or no sir. 

You made his coffee just as he liked two cubes of sugar, and a splash of cream. He always would like three extra cubes of sugar on the side, adding the extras depending on how his day had been going. The more sugar added the better his day. You walk as smooth as you can to his office, the large dark door. You don’t bother to knock, sliding open the door to his office, begging your heels not to catch on the floor. You sit his coffee on the desk, to his right, and far enough from his hand that he doesn’t accidentally knock it over. 

You smooth out your black mid length dress, and try not to fidget with your red belt that gives a retro theme to the look, and you even had a red purse and red blazer to wear with it (which you had ditched mid-morning). You slip back out the door when he doesn’t look at you. You pick up the tablet you use to keep track of everything on a mobile basis. You pull up his calendar and head back into the large office. 

The office itself had never intimidated you despite the large solid oak desk in the middle of the room. It felt open because of the floor to ceiling windows that had automatic curtains that came down on command. You actually loved his office despite the fact that you didn't spend a lot of time in it. You re-enter his office, and stand in front of the desk looking down at the calendar.

   “Okay before the day ends I would like to go over your schedule for the weekend.”

He finally looked up at you, his blue eyes giving direct contact, that you couldn’t hold and went back to the glowing tablet, where the sun was starting to set outside. 

  “You have a dinner meeting tonight which starts at 6:30pm; a 30 minute commute time which means you need to be out of here in the next 45 minutes,  if you would like to arrive with your 15 minute grace period as normal.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, then takes off the reading glasses off his face and tosses them on the desk.

  “Continue.”

  “ Not too many things on the agenda for this weekend except for family brunch on Sunday. Your mother requests you arrive on time this time.”

You regulate a smirk to the side of your mouth.

  “I��ve arranged for a bouquet of flowers to be delivered to your house by 9am for you to take over there to her.”

  “I don’t suppose I have any missed messages from today?”

You look at him confused.

  “Ummm....no. Were you expecting a call?”

He sighs and rubs the temples of his head, clearly upset something.

  “No...yes...don’t worry about it. You’ve already arranged for a car for me?”

Yep, he was upset and he was not about to share it with you. You didn’t press him, only prayed it didn’t result in a hell of a clean-up for you later. You had been the bad guy with no less than 4 woman, all of them glaring and spiting nasty vitriol at you when you wouldn’t give them access to Henry. You had seen them all come and go.

  “Yes.”

He looks you over, getting to his feet, walking over to the door you knew to be an en-suite bathroom and keeping his extra changes of clothes.

  “ Do you have any plans for tonight?”

He asks you suddenly and puts you on the spot. You don’t even have a lie to cover up how pitiful your life was, but you had to try. He didn’t need to know you don’t have anything planned tonight but a glass of wine and catching up on your TV shows you missed for all the overtime you’ve been working. 

  “Yes.”

  “Like what?”

He asks almost immediately as if knowing you were lying. You had to try and get out of some crazy overtime he was known for. You didn’t want another late night in the office.

 “Ummm...”

As noted earlier you didn’t think well on the spot. He raises an eyebrow at you.

 “You know I don’t appreciate liars Y/N. Anyhow if you are done lying to me, the meeting for tonight requires a...feminine touch.”

 “Feminine touch?”

You echo. He goes into the closet and you can hear him changing. You try not to think about him behind the wall.

 “Yes. The people I am meeting with require a bit of finesse. The negotiations always go better when we bring our women to the meetings.”

“Soo... would you like me to call someone for you. I can have a dress sent over in their size to smooth the deal over.”

He laughs at you.

  “No. Grab your things and call the car service to get here in 10 minutes.”

  “ What stop the press? Are you putting me out of the office before you for once?”

You quip at him. He comes from around the corner his attire changed into a black button down shirt, left with the top few unbuttoned. He adjusts the sleeves and looks up with you.

  “No you are going with me Y/N and we must hurry, you are going to require another dress.”

  “But...”

  “No buts. I need you and you are wasting time.”

He picks up a black suit jacket, his cologne hitting you with an umpf he walks by you to get to the car...

*********

The dinner had gone great from what you could tell. You saw a whole other side of Henry. One that was only observed under the rarest of occasions. 

At least for you.

Overall you weren’t asked for much, Henry had bought you another black dress only this one was a bit more leggy than you were used to around such important people. Its spaghetti strapped and sweetheart neckline, offering way more cleavage than you would ever consider wearing around him, but Henry had literally come in with you, pulling it from the rack along with a few other choices and this was the tamest all the options he left you. You damn near had a panic attack in the dressing room. The women in the boutique had fixed your hair and makeup in the little amount of time you had, once again at Henry’s behest. You hadn’t be so pulled together since... well you couldn’t remember....

Henry had even been nice to you all evening, but you knew it was all an act, even if your body did respond to the compliments and lingering looks, the smile he would shoot you, he had even let his hands skim across your lower back. 

You did your best not to read into anything. Had even gone along with the little game he was playing, being over sweet, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck, your hands lingering on his arms. Enough to suggest without being outwardly desperate and trashy. You were ever the smiling damsel to his associates, laughing at the jokes, ignoring the sexist comments about your dress or the ‘arm candy’ they referred to you as, despite it pissing you off.

You stayed to yourself most for the ride back to the office, and he stays quiet as well. Only then once the car parks do you realize in your haste earlier you left your keys upstairs. He insists he needs to come up as well to grab some files from his desk. You offer to bring them back down but he insists. You scurry to your desk, not finding them in the drawer where you usually kept your purse. 

You don’t see them. You panic and look for them intensely.

Oh you hoped you didn’t leave them at the boutique where you changed dresses. 

  “Y/N. Could you come in here please? I would like to discuss something with you before you leave.”

He calls to you, the voice losing the soft tone he had with you all night, this only serves to make your blood run cold. Have you done something wrong? Said the wrong thing to the wrong person and cost him millions of dollars? You needed your job, and hoped pretty badly that this wasn’t the end of it.

You honestly couldn’t tell if you missed it or not. You disregard the thoughts you are having and push them back in your mind, offering to sort them out later. Preferably with alcohol nearby. You look into his office and see that he is standing behind his desk. Once you come in, thinking he needed something from you.

  “Close the door.”

You close the door behind you, the lights on a dim shade, enough for you to see but not enough to over power your eyes. 

  “Did you need anything from me, because it’s late and I should be heading home...”

He surprises you by cutting you off in a tone that was even softer than any other time he had used with you before. 

   “I just wanted to say thank you for accompanying me tonight y/n.”

  “You are Welcome. I’m just going to go...”

You smile and turn to leave but his voice stops you with a sharp tone that makes you freeze.

   “Did I say you could leave?”

You feel your face get hot and you turn back around to face him. The lighting only showcasing the angles of his face, making you ever more nervous. 

   “No but Sir it's 12am...”

    “I know what time it is. You are so stubborn all the time. Can’t even take a simple compliment.”

  “I thought you were done.”

You shrug, and immediately regret being so nonchalant with him., his gaze intense.

   “I wasn’t. Now before you interrupted me, I was saying thank you not only because you came with me but for playing your role so effortlessly. I didn’t expect you to be so ...reciprocating to me.”

  “I figured that would be best. How would it appear if you showed up with a staff member we rather than a significant other like the other at the table.”

  “Well your quick and astute observation saved me tonight.”

  “All in a day's work. Now if I can just get out of these heels tonight and maybe into a pedicure tomorrow I will have made this all worth while.”

He surprises you by coming from behind the desk where he had been standing, coming to stand in front of you.

And you cursed yourself because it was back again.

The arousal you fought with every lingering look and touch he gave you tonight. How honeyed his words were with you, combined with the animalistic power you knew was just boiling under the surface. 

  “I have had many secretaries before and none of them take your position as seriously as you do. You put a lot of effort into your job and does not go unnoticed.”

Having him so close was unnerving. Especially when you had his direct attention. You can’t hold eye contact and look down at the floor. Henry touches your chin, his fingers tilt your chin up and you lock eyes. It wasn’t the first time you noticed the space of brown in his left eye, but the first time you were close enough to appreciate it. 

You feel your pulse quickening.

 “I don’t think I told you how beautiful you look tonight.”

He blinks slowly and you don’t breathe at all as his lips move toward your own. He is seconds away from kissing you, tension heavy in the room.

  “Wait....Henry...I just...I Can’t go there.”

You say it out loud and it’s like someone let the air out of your balloon. He lets your face go and looks at you confused, for the first time you see just Henry. Not your boss, not the CEO who always had to be ‘on’ and in charge, you just saw Henry. His face was open and unguarded.

  “It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s just you are my boss...”

Henry moves suddenly, and yet simultaneously time slows as he crashes his lips onto yours. The odd duality of soft, yet firm, calming yet passionate overtakes your mind and short circuits you. His hands are holding the side of your face on one side and behind your neck. His kiss steals what little breath you had away. You almost forget why this would have been such a bad idea but he pulls away.

  “Darling, Didn’t anyone tell you? The boss makes the rules...”

He resumes kissing you and you offer little in the way of resistance as he picks you up, in fact you lock your legs around his waist and he deposits you on top of his desk. Everything you had been feeling for him was bubbling up in that moment. You were caught in being wanted to be treated like silk and wanting to toss him down and take exactly what you wanted in no uncertain terms of hatefucking him for all the jackass behavior he had exhibited since you started 6 months ago. 

You slide his jacket off his broad shoulders, tossing it to the room, igniting the soft thud it makes when the expensive thing lands in a heap on the floor. He pulls your hips toward the edge of the desk and his large hands are hot as they slide up your skirt over trembling thighs and his lips move to your neck. He finds the sensitive spots there quicker than anyone ever had while also moving his fingers to play with your clit through the lining of the black lace panties you were wearing. 

Your breath hitches in your throat and Henry grins against your lips, letting you take a second before he kisses you again. His fingers dance around before latching to the hemline and yanking them with enough force that they are torn from your body. Your hips sting from the pull, but you are more than turned on. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt, and don’t look at the skin revealed, but he doesn’t let you take it off him and instead pushes one of his fingers inside of you, you lewdly moan, and grasp his biceps quickly, having been taken off guard. It wasn’t that you weren’t wet, because you were plenty wet, your now ruined panties had been testament to that, but you had expected more of a playful teasing, but as one of your last coherent thoughts, you knew this man never wasted time. 

He was a do-er... 

And right now he was doing you. The amount of focus and precision he took in his work, pouring over contracts, logs, inventory and the like, he was putting in on you. As his finger moves in and out he is staring at you with such intensity you think you might explode.

  “You are dripping baby girl. Melting right into the palm of my hand to be exact.”

He removes the finger that had been inside of you, raising it to his lips, tasting you from it, and you shudder. He kisses you again, you closing your eyes, then you hear in his deep tone like melted chocolate, luxurious to your ears,

  “Open your eyes and suck them.”

He held two of his fingers and you opened your mouth. He wanted to hold your gaze.

 “Get them nice and wet for me.”

You suck on them, imaging the girth that had been teasing you for months in his sacks, was what was actually in your mouth. You had wanted so badly to taste him and feel him you reach down, palming his obvious erection and you hear him growl. It was your turn to smirk, and as soon as he felt that smirk, he pulled his two fingers from your mouth and thrusts them into you. 

You whimper and the one hand you left on his bicep clenched in, digging into his skin. His fingers glide in and out almost painfully slow. You need faster.You try to move your hips to make him move but he chuckles.

  “That won’t work y/n. We do this at my pace. Be still or I will stop.”

He didn’t go any faster, his movements deliberately slow. You could tell he was getting a kick out this, and you whine again. 

    “Beg kitten.”

He whispers in your ear, his thumb teasing your clit again. 

   “Please.”

He moves a little faster.

  “Come on love. You can do better than that.” Teasing.

  “Please Henry...”

He slaps your thigh with a sharp tap and it sends the zing of arousal.

“That's not what you call me. Try again.”

While your brain is shorting out, you fumble on what he wants from you.

 “I..i don’t know sir...”

He rewards you by speeding up more. Your torso drops backwards, your head follows as you rest back on your elbows, and legs move wider, making your dress bunch up around your hips. 

 “There you go. There’s what I was looking for. Now beg me to make you come.”

You worry your bottom lip, ignoring how your chest heaves, pulling against the black fabric of the dress. 

  “Fuck! Please sir please let me cum.”

  “That’s more like it. Begging me like the dirty little slut you are.”

He speeds up, his fingers curling inside, tapping that spongy space that made your eyes cross and your vision blur. You didn’t think you would like being called a ‘little slut’ but it was more of a turn on than you had ever thought it would be. 

  “Sir let me cum please let me cum.”

His dexterous fingers speed up, his thumb rubbing your clit and you were glad no one else was in the office as your moans echo throughout the room.

  “You want to be my good girl hmmm?”

You nod furiously, the edge of your orgasm coming up rapidly, as your walls begin their tell-tell sign of fluttering.

  “Good girls wait until they have permission. You hold it.”

It was damn near impossible, but you try to focus on anything but how good his fingers feel. He pulls your body back up from the desk with his hand gripping behind your neck. His lips crash on your again, he lingers around your lips you breathe heavily against his lips.

  “I’ll be your good girl!”

You yell.

  “Good. Cum then come for me.”

It’s like the world goes silent and all you can focus on is his fingers as your orgasm pulls you under. It’s an out of body experience where you could hear your moans and groans of Henry’s name, where you were literally shaking, but you could bring yourself down. Destroyed, Henry is whispering praises in your ear. Calling you his and how good you were for him. It doesn’t take long to come back down, but when you do you feel wrung out, and as Henry pulls away, you notice the sheen of fine layered sweat on his forehead. You feel self conscious as he stares down  at you, and without the haze of lust in your eyes it settles in you that your boss just gave you one of the best orgasms of your life and hadn’t even taken off his pants. 

Pants that were currently begging you to be taken off. He begins to chuckle and you realize you’ve been staring at his cock outline, and he was laughing at you. He unbuttons his pants, and finally takes off his shirt the rest of the way, finally revealing the god sculpted body that he clearly worked for.

The look on his face says he is going to ruin you and you are going to like it.

Only then, as he begins to work on the zipper to your dress,  do you look to your left on the desk and see your keys sitting there...

***************

A/n: Hope that was what you were looking for @thiccgeralt​  Hope this met your expectations and thank you! 

I am thinking of coming back to this, but honestly I am waiting until @laketaj24​ finishes her CEO! fic The Rules, because its so freaking wonderful and I don’t want to ruin anything by stealing any thunder with a CEO fic OR Ficlet I would plan on doing. BTW if you haven’t read The Rules then please do yourself a favor a go over to her page and check out all of her work. You will not regret a second of it....

However I am tossing this out to see if there would be any interest in a continuation of this fic. Let me know and as always thank you for reading, re-blogging, and liking!

Henry Cavill Taglist: (OPEN! Let me know if this is something you want on!

@msblkfire84  @magdelen69​ 

[spidernerdsblog]

I Forgot That You Existed : Epilogue

A/N: . And this is the end of the series really enjoyed writing this. Hope you all enjoyed it too. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Tom Holland × Singer reader

Summary : It’s been more than five years since you and Tom have gone their own ways after a heartbreaking breakup which had left both of you shattered. Both of you thought that you were finally over with each other and were happy in your respective lives until you meet again at a reunion trip planned by your best friend and you realize you are still not done with each other.

Warnings : mild swearing.

Mini Playlist : London boy and Lover by Taylor Swift

"The news is just loving you." You chuckled sitting on the kitchen counter scrolling on your phone. Tom grimaced. 

"Just check out the headlines" 

Trouble in paradise 

Wedding a PR stunt? You read out. 

"My PR team is so pissed at me right now they are on the edge to handle this whole mess." 

You were scrolling through your feed as you stumbled upon a photo of yours with Tom posted by a fan account. It was a recent photograph from the carnival where you are seen holding hands walking through the crowd. It was a backshot but it did leave little to anyone's imagination that it was you and Tom. Whoever posted it wrote with the caption. 

Is it?? Are they?? OMG!! 😲😍

"Oh fuck me!!" You cursed. 

"Darling I would love to do that but I'm sort of busy right now with making you breakfast." You gave him a dirty look and shoved your phone to his face. 

"Look at this." Tom was puzzled at first then slowly his eyes widened with shock as he took a look at the photo. 

"What the fuck!!" 

"I'm so dead Alex is gonna eat me alive." You face palmed. 

"How did they even get this?" 

"How can I know?! Someone must have spotted us and clicked it." 

"What do we do now? There is no way people are gonna believe that we aren't in a relationship." 

"I'm in no place to take in the hate so…" you got busy with your phone. 

"Wait what are you doing?" 

"Nothing just desperate times calls for desperate measures." Being in this industry one thing you have realized is that people will believe anything posted online and Alex has taught you a few tricks to handle these kinds of situations. So before people start making a fuss about that photo you decided to share some photos from the vacation on your Instagram. The first photo you posted was of you, Tom and Harrison which you captioned 

Best friends for life!!💕🍻

You posted a few more including one from the carnival too. 

"Well disaster averted temporarily. We can clarify things further in interviews."You winked, showing him your phone. Tom stood in between your legs wrapping his hands around your waist. 

"My girlfriend is a genius." 

"That I am." You smirked. 

"Can't you stay a little longer?" he pouted. 

"Tom are you serious? I already extended my stay by one week for you. If I stay any further Alex will just kill me. And don't you have a press tour coming up?"

"Yeah fine will miss you though."

"Me too" you pecked his lips. 

"By the way I was serious about that before, you know in the kitchen." he drew circles on your skin. 

"I didn't say no either" you bite your lower lip batting your eyelashes innocently. Tom tightened his grip on your waist, peppering you with kisses on your neck you squeaked as he lifted you from the counter. 

Three Years later….. 

"Y/N just relax." Zendaya said. You were pacing in your bridal suite. 

"I can't, this is just too much to handle, do you think I should run away? Tom will understand right?" you blabbered. 

"Y/N it's totally normal to get cold feet for the bride to be before her marriage." Elysia tried to calm you down. 

"And if you faint on the aisle, your maid of honor and the other bridesmaids will be honored to catch you." Zendaya chuckled. 

"Not helping Z." You deadpanned. 

"Umm Elysia you seemed quite calm when you and Sam got married how was that so?" 

"Believe me girl I was nervous as hell. All sorts of doubts started hovering in my head like what if this is a mistake? What if all goes wrong? But once when I was at the aisle and saw his face all my doubts cleared away. This is the man I love and spending my life with him will be the best thing in the world. Whatever may come in our way we will overcome it together." 

"Wow that's a great insight." 

"You got this girl! " Chloe cheered you whilst fixing your dress. 

"How is the bride doing?" El enquired as she entered into your room with a jovial smile. 

"Oh hi El!" you eagerly went and hugged her. 

"Hi darling!" 

"You're late by the way." You quipped. 

"I'm sorry dear the flight got delayed." 

"Girl you seem to be doing much better than your groom. I just happened to pass by your husband and by his looks he seemed like he would shit in his pants any moment." You all burst out laughing. 

When the news of your wedding broke out it became the talk of the town. 

You wanted it to be a private affair away from the prying eyes of the media. So what's better than getting married in the peace and serenity of the countryside in the presence of your close friends and family. 

The aisle was beautifully decorated with white lilies and roses. 

Tom was shuffling on his feet at the aisle. 

"Dude everything is fine, stop worrying. She will be here in a few minutes." Harry tried to boost his confidence. 

"You know Y/N is a sort of fickle minded what if she had a change of mind?" Harrison chuckled. 

"You know what Harrison? You are the worst man." Tom grumbled. Harrison laughed. 

Finally, the priest came out and asked everyone to stand. It was your turn! All eyes would soon be on you.  Chloe and Ed's three year old daughter Belle was your flower girl for the wedding. She looked cute in a pink gown as she walked on her little feet lining the path with white rose petals as the music started. 

You only took two steps out before you were greeted by your father. He escorted you down the aisle. He became your strength; without him you would have fainted you thought. The guests looked at you, taking pictures of your dress, waving at you, smiling- one thing was for sure, though… no one made a sound. 

Up ahead you saw him, Tom. Your future husband, the love of your life, your everything. He stood taller, his shoulders back and his eyes on you. If you weren’t mistaken you could have sworn tears filled his eyes.

Tom stood there hypnotized seeing you in that pristine white wedding dress you looked like a dream he thought as you walked towards him. 

At the end of the aisle your father hugged you 

“I'm proud of you jellybean” it was a kind of emotional moment for you as a few tears slipped down your eyes so as your father's and then he presented you to your groom. He placed your hand in Tom’s and smiled. As a couple, Tom and you stood in front of the priest.

Before your father walked away, he patted Tom on the shoulder. That was his way of welcoming him into the family. 

Standing next to your love felt overwhelming. You glanced at each other for a moment. 

"You look beautiful." Tom mouthed to you. 

"You too." You mouthed him back with a wink. 

Elysia was right you thought, an unknown excitement surging inside you. 

Was this really happening? Will I soon be Mrs. Holland? You thought. 

The minister said to guests, “You can now be seated”. Everyone followed his request.

“Dearly beloved,” he began, “we are gathered here to witness this man and woman join together in holy matrimony.”

He said the speech and afterward you exchanged vows, tears filling both your eyes.

Paddy walked in with Tessa who had your rings in a basket she was holding in her mouth. Everyone went 'aww!' as she looked adorable in a wedding tutu walking over to the aisle. You placed Tom's ring on first, then he placed on yours.

“With the power invested in me I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Tom leaned in and kissed you,softly like he’s never done it before. Everyone cheered for you, however you barely noticed; your full attention rested on Tom. 

And you left the stage with Tom hand in hand. Though you were against doing any kind of wedding tradition but your bridesmaids were adamant for the bouquet ceremony so you had to give in to that. They lined behind you. 

"Okay girls you ready?!" You tossed the bouquet. You turned to see Zendaya had caught it. 

"I knew it was your turn next." You cackled.

"This is not done. We could have done the garter ceremony too; it would have been so much fun." Harrison complained. 

"I think you guys had your fair share of fun on the Bachelorette with all the booze and that stripper that by the way our parents aren't aware of" you muttered with a stern look in your eyes. Harrison gulped because he was behind the whole Bachelorette fiasco. 

"Yeah we are fine." he said timidly. 

You went to change to something more comfortable for the reception. 

The lawn buzzed with excited chatter and children ran between the tables in a good natured game of tag. There was the scraping of chairs as folks got up for a standing ovation as you and Tom made your way to the head table, smiling and holding hands. There were cheers and someone whooped.

 As the evening progressed everybody had loosened up a bit. People were chatting, eating and enjoying the reception. 

"Finally the number of women are increasing in the Holland family." Elysia announced. Everyone laughed.

"Ah! seeing you two together really makes us happy" Nikki said. 

"Yeah now it's time you give us our grandchildren too." Your mother joked. You and Tom flustered at that. 

"Moomm!! we just got married. We are too young for that, let us enjoy this time." You whined. 

"Honey I had you when I was 25. No pressure though take your time." 

It was the time for your first dance with Tom,your friends pulled you both to the stage, a soft music was playing. You held his hand, his other hand resting on your waist as you swayed to the music. 

"So how are you feeling wifey or may I say Mrs Holland?" 

"Umm the weather is a little warm, feeling a little bloated other than that I'm doing fine hubby." You chuckled. 

"You know I was so nervous I actually thought what if you changed your mind about the wedding?" 

"Not gonna lie I was actually thinking of running away." You smirked. You exhaled resting your head on his chest swaying to the music. 

"Hey you okay?" 

"Yeah why?" 

"Nothing, just all that baby talk." 

"Hey it's totally fine I'm way over that. And I would love to be a mom again but not now." 

"Just imagine you me and our four little halflings. We could have two girls and two boys or three girls,one boy or a pack of four boys like us or.." You cut him off. 

"Whoa whoa whoa slow down mister. First of all we are not having more than two.'' 

"But why? I'm totally gonna be a hands-on dad I promise."

"Easy for you to say because I will be the one going through the whole birthing process. So no uterus no opinion. And isn't that why Thanos snapped in the first place overpopulation, limited resources." You chuckled, snapping your fingers. Tom shook his head laughing.

"I would be so glad if I have twins all the hassle in one time." 

"Whatever you want darling. You know how much I love you." 

"I know and I love you too." 

"Okay how about three if not four?" He suggested. 

"If we are to count you, I'll have three kids to look after so your wish is fulfilled already." You laughed. 

As the reception was drawing close you went up the stage tapping on the microphone to seek everybody's attention. 

"Good evening everyone. First of all, I really wanna thank each and everyone for blessing us with your presence at our wedding and making it memorable." 

"Tom and I have known each other since we were kids. Our mother's were convinced that we would end up together and so we did though we had to go through our own rough patch. But I'm glad that eventually everything got sorted out and the credit goes to our families and friends." 

"It's no secret I write songs taking inspiration from my life and Tom has been a major part of my life. So this is for you hubby."

The band played the notes as you started singing. 

"I love my hometown as much as Motown, I love SoCal

And you know I love Springsteen, faded blue jeans, Tennessee whiskey

But something happened, I heard him laughing

I saw the dimples first and then I heard the accent

They say home is where the heart is

But that's not where mine lives"

Everyone clapped and cheered. Tom's whole face lit up as he looked at you. 

"You know I love a London boy

I enjoy walking Camden Market in the afternoon

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you

Took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates

So I guess all the rumors are true

You know I love a London boy

Boy, I fancy you (ooh)"

Tom was blushing at his seat as Harrison elbowed him in a teasing manner. You had a wide smile as you looked at him. 

"And now I love high tea, stories from uni, and the West End

You can find me in the pub, we are watching rugby with his school friends

Show me a gray sky, a rainy cab ride

Babe, don't threaten me with a good time

They say home is where the heart is

But God, I love the English"

You took the microphone in your hand singing and walked over to Tom extending your hand to him. He took it and got up from his seat as you walked him over to the middle of the stage. 

"You know I love a London boy

I enjoy nights in Brixton, Shoreditch in the afternoon

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you

Took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates

So I guess all the rumors are true

You know I love a London boy

Boy, I fancy you"

You stood there glancing at his eyes. 

"So please show me Hackney

Doesn't have to be Louis V up on Bond Street

Just wanna be with you

Wanna be with you

Stick with me, I'm your queen

Like a Tennessee Stella McCartney on the Heath

Just wanna be with you (wanna be with you)

Wanna be with you (oh)

You know I love a London boy

I enjoy walking SoHo, drinking in the afternoon (yeah)

He likes my American smile

Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you (you)

Took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates

So I guess all the rumors are true (yeah)

You know I love a London boy (oh)

Boy (oh), I fancy you (I fancy you, ooh)"

Present day…. 

"And that is how your mum and dad got married kids." Harrison finished his story letting out a deep breath. 

"Wow uncle Haz that was epic!" Your seven year old daughter chirped in awe. 

"Yup everything was epic with those divs."  

"We are back!" Tom announced as you both entered your house. 

"Peter! Vienna! Where are my pumpkins?" you called out as you heard shuffling of feets and giggles. 

"Mommy!! Daddy!!" your little munchkins came running to you. 

"There they are."  You cooed. Your five year old son launched himself into your arms as you picked him up. 

"Did you have fun with your uncles?" 

"Yess!!" Peter said beaming with joy. 

"Uncle Haz and uncle Harry were telling us a story." Vienna informed you. 

"What story bubs?" 

"Your and daddy's love story." You and Tom looked at each other smiling. 

"Oh really? I hope they didn't go much into the details keeping it kids friendly." 

"Of course Y/N you really don't trust us do you?" Harry said feeling offended.

"To be honest, No" you replied bluntly. 

"Where's Ava and Jordan?" you asked whilst putting Peter down. 

"They are with their moms at mum and dad's house helping with dinner." Harry said. 

"Okay then let's get you guys ready and then we will go to grandma's for the Christmas Dinner eh?" Tom said to your kids. 

"Yayy!!" Vienna and Peter rushed back to their room.

You were at the doorstep as you rang the bell as you were greeted by Nikki. 

"You guys are late." 

"Sorry, someone was way too confident about his navigation skills so had to take a detour." You eyed Tom. 

"That wasn't completely my fault. How would I know that the road would be closed?" Tom retorted. 

"It's Christmas time Tom! Everyone knows." You both started arguing at the doorstep. 

"Then why didn't you tell me?" 

"Okay that's enough for now, God you two  have been married for almost 10 years and still your non stop bickering continues." Nikki scolded you both. 

''You got all the things I told you to bring?'' 

"Yes mum." Tom said sheepishly. 

"Merry Christmas grandma!!'' Vienna and Peter came rushing in clinging on to her. 

"Aww Merry Christmas my loves. C'mon get inside all your cousins are waiting for you." 

After the dinner all you ladies gathered in the living room and gossiped among yourselves and your husbands were chugging on to their beers and having their share of laughs in the dining room. 

The kids were busy playing amongst themselves.

Vienna came up to you and tugged on to the sleeve of your sweater. You turned to look at her brown doe eyes which she totally inherited from Tom along with her luscious curls. She was a stark image of him. 

"Do you need something peanut?" 

"Mom, will you sing for us? Pleaasse." she innocently asked, making a puppy face the trick she had picked up from her dad in the meantime. And how could you say no to that. 

"Anything for you honey. Can you bring me my guitar love?" 

"Sure mom." Vienna beamed with joy as she ran to bring your guitar. You slipped down the couch to sit on the carpeted floor stretching your legs as you strummed on to the chords. 

"We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

This is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you twenty seconds or twenty years?

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover"

Vienna sat beside you. You swayed sideways while singing to her. Vienna tried to sing along with you clapping her hands to the rhythm. Peter came running and settled down on the other side of you resting his head on your lap. You stroked his hair with your hand gently. 

"We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my lover"

The boys heard you singing as they got up and flocked in the living room. You glanced at Tom standing at the doorway smiling and gave him a subtle wink. He can never get enough of you, every time he looks at you he falls in love again and again. Sometimes he wonders how did he get so lucky? You were perfect, who gave him the two most precious gifts of his life. His heart swells when he looks at his little family. You make him whole. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover"

Tom walked towards you and picked up Peter making him sit on his lap as he sat beside you. His one hand went to wrap around your shoulder as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek, you looked at him smiling. You were so proud of this man, the perfect husband, the doting father to your children you didn't have words to express. Tom rested his head on your shoulder, Vienna and Peter clinged on to you as you sang. You felt full from the inside out. 

'' Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover"

.................................................................

Taglist is open.

@sleepybesson​​ @sophs-library​​ @spideyparkerstark​​ @itstaskeen​​ @milli86​​ @biebsmylife95​​ @quaksonhehe​​ @hannahholland1811​ ​​ @awhollandx​​ @joyleenl​​  @greatpizzascissorstaco​​ @tomhollandsotherpinkytoe​​ @jjandreidsgirl​​ @brighterthanthesunx​​ @marvelpeters​​ @panicattheeverywherekid​​ @onewithnomightypowers​​ @itsnotmeh24  @bitchinwpei @astridcommings​ @hollandprkr​​  @hollandsobrien​​ @timotayswriter​​ @kiki-hines​​ @casualprincess77​​ @spideyth​​ @perspectiveparker​​ @thevelvetseries​​ @tempo-rary-fix​

[icecream-and-gadreel]

FMK Ch. 1: Dean, Sam, Castiel (NSFW)

Series Summary: The trickster is known for his cruel, oftentimes deadly pranks. So when you, Sam, and Dean found out he was up to his old ways again, you came with reinforcements. What should have been a swift victory turned into you being stuck in the wildest game you've ever played in your life.

Summary: You close in on the Trickster's hiding place, but soon fall prey to one of his pranks.

Pairing: Readerxvarious

Other characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, Charlie, Bobby, Gabriel

Rating: NSFW (Quick! Read it while your boss isn't looking!)

Warnings: Blanket Warning: Due to the nature of the series, everything has dubious consent! Language, oral sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), violence, implied death, hallucinations

Word count: 1900+

Eternity squad: @sheinthatfandom​ @greenshinigamieyes @lipstickandwhiskey @feelmyroarrrr @bcarolinablr @mrswhozeewhatsis

A/N: Boy. I honestly don't know how to prepare you for this. So...enjoy pals!

Masterlist

The trickster bites into a nougat filled chocolate bar, watching as you all surround him. Dean and Sam on either side of him, you and Castiel in front. The room is murky grey, with flickering fluorescent lights lining the ceiling. As far as you can tell, the warehouse goes on and on farther than you can see. It was only seconds after entering the building that you knew exactly what you were dealing with.

“This ends, now,” Sam growls, gripping the blood-drenched stake in hand. The trickster stares around with an exaggerated gasp, pretending to shiver. Castiel narrows his eyes, gaze trained on the trickster.

“Aw, look! You got my boots shaking!” the trickster cooes, holding a shaking hand up to his mouth. When nobody laughs, he rolls his eyes, taking another generous bite out of his candy bar. “You guys are no fun~”

“How are you still alive?” Dean asks, gaining a shrug in response.

“Dean, something isn't right,” Castiel says, staring around the room. As you turn to ask him what's wrong, the angel is gone.

“Cas?” you whisper, pausing when you notice that the trickster is looking at you.

“Why haven't I seen you around?” he asks, gesturing to the Winchester's. “I'm used to the tall, dark, and brooding ones, but who are you?”

“Unimportant,” you respond, trying to keep a brave face. Though he doesn't seem the serious type, he has an unmistakable air about him, more powerful than you could have ever imagined. “We can't let you keep killing people.”

The trickster stares at the men, ignoring your words. Turning his eyes back to you, he gestures around the room. “Fuck, marry, kill. Dean, Sam, or me?” he asks.

“Let's start with kill,” you grunt, raising your gun to him. The trickster tssks you, resting a hand on his hip.

“Come on, easy question,” he says, a frown going over his face as the Winchester's rush toward him. With a snap of his fingers, the other men are gone, leaving just you.

Shit.

He closes in on you, and you take cautious steps away from him, trying to will yourself to shoot him. “I like you, new girl, I really do.”

“Stay away –” You cut yourself off when he disappears, eyes shifting around the room in panic. It seems smaller now. There aren't any windows, and the door you entered through disappeared. “Sam?” you call, your voice echoing off the walls. “Dean? Casti...el...” your voice trails away as your eyes land on a sparkly pink notebook and a sharpie laying in the middle of the room. Crouching down, you flip it open, your face sinking. The page is covered in hearts and cutesy doodles. But what catches your eye is the big, blocky letters written smack dab in the middle.

FUCK MARRY KILL: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel

You toss the notebook away, shaking your head and staring up at the ceiling. “No, fuck you! Let me out of here!” you hiss. No response. “I won't play!” you scream. Again, nothing. You clench your jaw, the looming realization that you're at his mercy setting in. “God damn it...” Reluctantly, you plop down on the ground, staring at the page once more. “God fucking damn it...” you mumble, ticking off your choices. You flinch at the sound of girlish giggles and squeals filling the room, searching for the source of the noise. The notebook disappears from your hands with a puff of glitter, and the lights above you flicker. Your body feels heavy, like it's sinking into the ground beneath you. Closing your eyes, you allow your body to fall back, expecting to feel hard concrete beneath you. Instead, you feel something plush.

__

Warmth.

Hands grabbing at you greedily.

It takes you a few seconds to catch up with the moment, but when you do, you press a harsh kiss against your lover's lips, hands lacing through his hair as he grinds against you. You both roll around on the bed, biting and sucking at each other's lips, your legs wrapped around his waist. When he pulls out of the kiss, you bat open your eyes, a breath escaping you. 

Sam's face is flushed red, his pouty lips swollen and wet.

“Sammy...” you breathe, tightening your legs around him. He responds with a coy smile, trailing harsh, sloppy kisses down your neck, licking and sucking your skin as he palms at your breasts.

“Take these off,” he whispers, yanking at your shorts. You lift your hips, allowing him to slide them down your thighs. He continues trailing kisses down your body, leaving bites and hickies in his wake. Pulling your panties to the side, Sam nuzzles against your sex, a moan escaping his lips. He drags his tongue along your slit, slurping away your juices as he grips his fingers in your thighs. “Fuck you taste so good.”

You bite your lip, resting your hand on his head and rolling your hips. God, he's gifted. It almost seems like he's enjoying this more than you are. He pulls your clit between his lips, gently suckling. “Fuck,” you moan, voice fluttering. You lace your fingers through his hair, back arching as pleasure courses through you. His tongue pushes deep between your folds, lapping and sucking your tender flesh before plunging inside of you. Sam reaches a hand to your breast, teasing at your nipple with gentle pinches and tugs. You cry out, thighs squeezing around his head as your orgasm takes over. He laps at your sex as you ride your release, keeping you grounded underneath his embrace. Sam raises up on his knees and plunges his fingers deep inside you, eyes never breaking from yours.

“Fuck, I'm glad we're finally doing this,” he says, a breathless chuckle escaping him. You silently nod, grabbing his cock and giving it a gentle squeeze. He lifts your legs over his shoulders as he lines up with your entrance. You moan his name, closing your eyes as he eases into you, his thick cock stretching you more than you could have ever imagined. Sam grips your arms as he begins his rhythmic thrusting, holding you firm in your place. His eyes roll back as he's enveloped in your warmth, his hips slamming into you quicker. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, zips of electricity running up your spine.

“Oh my god, Sam!” you scream.

--

“What?” he asks.

Your eyes snap open, and you let out a puff of air, staring at yourself in the mirror. You reach your hands to touch the silver crown on your head, fingers ghosting along the flowing, white veil. Sam, with a furrowed brow, adjusts his tie in the mirror. 

“Look, I didn't mean anything bad was gonna happen,” Sam says, giving you a reassuring nod.

“...Huh?” you whisper, gaining a chuckle from him.

“You know, we got everything warded off,” he begins, giving your shoulder a rough pat. “And I'm pretty sure everyone here is strapped,” he adds, whirling around to the door as it flies open. “No, you can't see the bride until it's time!” Sam says, chasing off whoever just opened the door.

The bride.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, heart pounding in your chest. Today's the day and it feels like you didn't even know. God, why are you having cold feet right now of all times? He's the love of your life! You stare down at your beautiful, puffy dress, eyes landing on the sparkling ring on your finger. There's no telling where he got it from, but it's beautiful. A knock comes at the door, and you stand to your feet, smoothing your hands down your dress.

“Y-Yeah?” you yell, smiling as Charlie pokes her head into the room.

“We're ready for you – wow, look at her!” she cooes, a cheek to cheek grin on her face. Taking a deep breath, you snatch your bouquet up, allowing her to usher you to the wedding hall. You can hear the organ playing in the distance. Charlie says something to you, but your mind is a million miles away. Your heart is threatening to burst out of your chest, and your legs are beginning to wobble. Oh god. Why is this so scary? You turn the corner, being met with familiar faces standing in the pews, there eyes on you. Most are adorned in jeans and flannels, and just as Sam said, lots of them are carrying guns. You spot a few people sprawling out sigils on the walls, but they stop when you begin your descent down the aisle. Your groom is facing away from you, just as tradition calls for.

“Lookin' like a doll,” Bobby whispers to you as you pass, his hands wrapped tightly around his shotgun. You giggle, smiling when you see Sam waving at you from the line of groomsmen. You pause before your soon to be husband, gently placing your hand on his shoulder. Sucking in a breath, he turns to you, a smile immediately breaking across his face.

“Oh hell yeah,” Dean grunts, gaining whoops and hollers from his groomsmen. You playfully smack him on the arm, grabbing his hand in yours. His green eyes shift wildly, a permanent smile glued to his face. The priest begins, but all you can focus on his Dean. He looks starstruck, like he's never seen someone so beautiful in his life.

“I do,” Dean breathes, tears prickling at his eyes. Seeing this makes your eyes gloss over, and when the priest asks you the same question, you can barely choke out 'I do'.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest says, closing his bible. Dean grabs you by the waist, dipping you down and pulling you into a passionate kiss. You smile against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Let's get to that honeymoon suite,” Dean whispers, shooting you a wink. You both run down the aisle hand in hand, waving at the sea of family and friends applauding you.

As you push through the door, the world goes dark. You turn to look at the church, but nothing is there, save for a fence and two brick walls.  

--

The alley is dark and groggy, with trash bags piled up on either side of you. 

Who's hand were you holding? You look down at the angel blade you're gripping, cocking an eyebrow. Of course. It ends here. You swagger deeper into the alley, your face falling into a frown as Castiel crawls away from you on hands and knees. His hand buckles underneath him, causing him to fall flat on the ground. The red exit sign on the wall is the only source of illumination, but you can clearly see the battered and bruised angel look at you. He wears a defiant scowl, an unsuccessful attempt at bravery.

“Times up Castiel,” you say, the venom in your voice catching you off guard. He...deserves this, as far as you can remember. You lace your fingers through his hair, forcing him up as you raise the blade above your head.

–

You stare up at the ceiling, your heart racing.

What. The. Hell.

As you lean up, your eyes train on that god damn sparkly notebook again.

Right. The trickster. It all felt so real, as if each and everything that happened was always like that. You shake away the thoughts, snatching up the notebook and staring around the room.

“Son of a bitch,” you growl, staring down at the new set of names.

FUCK MARRY KILL: John Winchester, Gadreel, Cain

[leelee10898]

Fast cars & Freedom: ShadowBoxer (4/?)

Summary: Ellie gets blast from the past. Logan amd Ellie have thsor dinner, but will it go well?

Pairing: Logan-x-Ellie, Colt x Ellie

Rating: Mature

Song inspiration:

Ellie paid the driver and got out, her eyes taking in the familiar sights.  It had been a long time but she would always remember this street. She turned around slowly noticing her destination, a sign that read TC Automotive where Kaneko Auto Body used to be. New owners  she thought to herself as she took a deep breath.

********

Ellie sat in the in the booth of the diner somewhere in Eastern California, the events of the past few weeks playing over and over in her head. She had ditched her prom dress grabbing a change of  clothes at Riyas. Colt stopping and buying something quickly. “Were gonna get through this Ellie, don't worry.” He placed a reassuring kiss on her forehead, she rest her head on his shoulder. “How can you know that colt?  These people are unhinged, we could be dead tomorrow. I want to live Colt. I'm not ready to die” she sniffled.

Colt knew this was eating her up, he needed to find some kind of a distraction, anything to make her happy, to take away all the fear and pain. He needed her to be happy, it was as if he survived on it.  He looked around the small diner, a guy sitting at the counter, his shirt reading viva las Vegas. “Have you ever been to Vegas?” she lifted her head “What? With everything going on you're seriously asking me if i've been to Vegas?”

She walked into the shop, not seeing anybody around, nobody manning the desk, nobody anywhere. “Hello?” she yelled as she walked around. She looked at the desk some papers strewn about, some car parts. The place reminded her of Kaneko's garage,  the new owners obviously rebuilt it a bit more modern but appreciated the older feel of a garage. Her eyes landed on a postcard from Vegas. Her mind taking her back to a night that she would remember the rest of her life.

“Ah yeah, I am. So have you?” he smirked, he loved seeing her get railed up, it was cute the way she scrunched her nose up. “NO!”

“ok, it's settled. Were going.” he jumped up reaching for her hand. She grabbed it as they climbed on his bike. “Where are we going colt?” She asked as she put on her helmet.  “Vegas.” he smirked as he shut his helmet kicking his bike to life.

******

“sorry miss. How can i help you.” she turned towards the voice. “Oh just picking up my car.”

A huge smile formed on her face. “Toby?”

“Oh my god. Ellie belly is that you? You're all grown up.” he ran lifting her up into a spinning hug. “oh my  god hold on x is gonna get a kick out of this.” he ran towards the hall “Hey X. X, come here. You're never gonna believe whos here.” ximena came out a huge smile plastered on her face. “oh my god sweetheart, how the hell are ya?” she pulled her into a crushing hug. “Eck. X. Crushing. Me.” she grunted as ximena let her down. “I'm not sorry, it's been too long honey.”

They stood there talking about Ellie moving back. Toby and ximena travelling together, coming back this way once they heard someone opened a shop in the same place, and ended up working there again. Toby went to look for her keys and couldnt find them. “Hold on, I bet the boss has them.” “Hey boss, can you bring the keys to that Honda?” she heard someone shuffling around in a room off the back before emerging. Toby and ximena said they would catch up with her later.

“ C- Colt!” Ellies heart dropped in her stomach as she came face to face with him. After 6 years the sight of him still lit a fire in her. “Here are your keys miss. You should be good to go. Also, you should probably get a new car seat those may not be safe after an accident.” He kept his face fixed on the paper in front of him. Ellie felt the tears start to well up in her eyes. He couldn't even look at her and acted like he didn't know her.  “Th. Thank you.” her voice trembled, immediately irritating her. Why should she be upset, he's the one who left without saying goodbye.

She snatched the keys out of his hand and storming off to the lot to get her dad's car. How dare him, after 6 years he still had the power to make her swoon to pissed in a matter of seconds. She marched out to the lot getting in her dad's car. She let out a long irritated scream,  all of her frustrations boiling over. She turned the key, the car roaring to life. Something in her snapped as she peeled wheels out of the lot. She caught a glance at colt propped against an open bay door.

She couldn't understand how someone she hadn't seen in 6 years could piss her off so bad. She took the long way home, hoping to calm down before getting there. She arrived home, Luca barreling towards the door. “mommmmmy.” All of Ellie's frustrations and fears instantly melting away upon seeing that sweet smiling face. “Hi baby. Oooh I missed my sweet girl. Did you have fun with grampy today?” she lifted her up, wrapping her in a hug.

“Yup. We went to the park. Grampy made a friend. Her name is sally.” ellie eyed her dad. “He did?”

“uh huh, they are going to have dinner on Saturday night.”

“Ooooh kay. That's enough of that little miss loose lips. How about you go watch some tv while grampy helps mommy with dinner.”

Luca jumped up and down with excitement before running into the living room.

“How was your day?” He asked Changing the topic. “Nope. Na ah. Were starting with you. You taking my daughter to pick up chicks?” she eyed her father.

“what? No. I would never, ellie.” she chuckled “Dad im just playing with you. I think it's great you have a date.” she hugged him. She knew he hadn't really dated much since her mom died, and the fact he felt comfortable going on a date now made her so happy.

“Speaking of dated. I have one tomorrow night.” her father looked at her confused.  “With who?”

“Logan.”

She spent the entire work day thinking about her dinner with Logan. Was it a date? Was it business? Whatever it was she felt the butterflies in her stomach, no matter what happened she knew one thing for certain she was telling him tonight.

She raced home getting ready in a hurry, Riya picked Luca up since her father had card night with some of his old police buddies. She wore a white and champagne colored v neck midi dress. She tacked her hair up in a braided updo, she looked in the mirror her nerves getting the best of her when she heard a knock at the door.

Logan stood on the other side, Ellie stood there a minute admiring the man before her. He had sure grown up, still with that toned body but he was bigger than before. He wore a pair of khakis and a button down shirt. “You look beautiful Ellie.” He finally broke the silence. “Ah. Beautiful you too look.” he cocked his brow amused by how flustered he made her. “I mean, you look nice too Logan.”

“These are for you.” He held out a bouquet of wild flowers as She let him inside. “Thank you. These are beautiful. Let me go get a vase.” she came back quickly and they headed out for dinner.

They sat at the table sharing stories of the past, and laughing.  She missed how easy it was with Logan. They were headed somewhere she had thought and then she found out he used her to get information about her father's investigation.  She had already had feelings for Colt, but she would be lying if she said that didn't play a factor in them becoming even stronger.

A silence settled over the table and Ellie took her chance to try and back out of becoming his accountant. “Logan. We need to talk about me being your accountant. I dont think its a good idea.”

“Ellie, we have been over this time and time again. I trust you, besides it's a done deal.” Logan casually sipped his beer.

“You might not feel that way after you hear what I have to tell you.” He arched his brow.

“ok El, what is going on?”

She shook her head “not here, can we go?” He grabbed the check, paid and the valet brought his car around.

They drove to a parking lot, Ellies nerves a wreck. “Ok, whats up Ellie. You know whatever it is,  you can just tell me.”

She took a deep breath, it was now or never. “Logan I am a mom. I. I have a daughter.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened at her confession. “So you have a kid. I don't see what's so bad about that Ellie.” he chuckled.

“That's not the bad part.” she started to fidget in her seat. “Her. Her name is Luca. shes. She's 5.”  Logan sat there Quiet. She could see him doing the calculations in his head. “Logan?” she spoke softly, she couldn't take all the silence.

“Five? You were in college then. Did you meet someone there?” She shook her head no. He swallowed hard, his throat becoming dry. “What.  What are you saying, is. Is she mine?”

The tears started to spill, silently. “Im, not sure if she's yours or Colts.” She hung her head ashamed. “I'm so. So sorry Logan. “ she said through sobs. After 6 years of being alone, raising her daughter alone she finally was one step closer to finding Lucas dad.

“Hey. Hey. Don't cry Ellie.” He wrapped his arms around her tightly.  

“How can you be so calm? I just told you there is a possibility you have a child.”

“I know. I'm not going to lie Ellie, I am kind of freaking out. But what good is it going to do if I flip out?”  he took a deep breath “You did it on your own?”

Ellie told him about finding out in school and trying to get in touch with both him and colt, both numbers disconnected. She had her dad look for them, but turned nothing up. Eventually she just resolved herself to raising Luca alone. Logan apologised, he left town for a little while, he came back once the brotherhood was dismantled completely. It was then he enrolled in night school and took a job with a racing company.  They drove back to her house in silence. Logan leaned over giving her a hug. “It's gonna be ok El, we will figure it out. Can I.” He cut himself off, hesitant to finish.

“Can you what Logan?”

“Do you think I could meet her?” Ellie stared at him shocked “Ah. Well. I think that is ok. But, and don't take this the wrong way but.  I don't want to tell her you may be her dad. Not until we know for sure.” Logan nodded “I'll follow your lead. It's gonna be ok Ellie, no matter what,  i'm here for you.” he wrapped her in a tight hug, placing a soft kiss in her cheek.

She got out of the car, waving as he drove off. She turned to head to her house when she caught sight of someone standing across the street. “Really Ellie, him? Of all people why him?”

“Not that I have to explain anything to you but, it was a business dinner.” She snapped. “what do you want colt?”

“What do I want? It's been 6 years and you show up in town like nothings wrong.” He followed her up the walkway.  

“Oh, so you do know me? Because yesterday you couldn't even look at me.” She seethed, turning to face him.

“Oh I know you alright.” he snorted.  “ how could I ever forget you Mrs. Kneko?”

Tags: Permatag

@kennaxval @hopefulmoonobject @crookedslimecreatorpasta @be-still-my-aching-heart @ao719 @speedyoperarascalparty @riseandshinelittleblossom @cocomaxley @bobasheebaby @ownworldresident @cordoniaqueensworld @indiacater

ROD

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@simsvetements @zaffrenotes @professorortegasstudent @akrenich @ifyouseekheart @client-327 @choicelogansbitch

[themagiciansreccenter]

Five @ Five @ceeainthereforthat

As a part of our author spotlight, we’ve asked each writer to highlight 5 fics and tell us a little about their experience writing (or reading) them.

How Easy You Are To Need by @ohmarqueliot

If he tried hard enough, he could almost pretend that he’d lost track of who’s moans belonged to whom. Almost. Before he’d fled the common room, Alice and Kady had been making out on the couch right beside him, grinding against each other, Alice’s hands gripping tightly at the back of the couch as she moved over Kady. Penny had Julia pressed up against the wall, one leg hitched over his waist and her hips rolling against his. Several others had been in various states of undress around the room, their hands and mouths and bodies all over each other, and Quentin had quickly given up trying to pry people off of each other.

Sure, I dig the sex pollen, even if it's usually pretty dubious consent-wise. But even more, I really enjoy stories that take on the aftermath of the sex pollen incident--so I'm waiting for part 2 of ohmarqueliot's story with anticipation. This story was so damn hot, and then the end of part one had me yelling.

Tomorrow Past Tonight by veganshailseitan

He places the tile with a more care than is strictly necessary –a second to compose himself before he meets Eliot’s eyes– and wonders, far from the first time since they’d gotten to Fillory six months ago, how his fingers would feel elsewhere on Quentin’s skin.

For a moment he wants to ask him… something. If Eliot feels this tension between them. If he wants to do something about it. Or maybe just do Quentin. But how do you ask out someone you live with, and work with, and eat and drink and spend all your time with?

“Thanks,” he swallows, mouth dry, breaking eye contact after what he hopes was a normal amount of time.

He tries not to think about it for the rest of the day.

Ho damn this fic. This fic is the reason why I started writing Hedonism for Beginners stories--I made the terrible mistake of reading this fic while I was stuck waiting for a flight in an airport, and there were people all around me and listen I fucked up, okay? I should have bookmarked it and come back to it later but instead I devoured the whole thing while worrying that someone could see what I was reading out in public.

But I was also in deep admiration for the craft in that story, and I was left feeling like "Why can't I do that? what am i doing with my sex scenes? How do I put both the erotic, full on horny on the scene, and keep the emotional resonance there, and how do I get explicit without being indelicate--what do I need to learn?"

Routine Maintenance by @messier51

Routine maintenance is not exactly a simple task--the mechanical parts, the spellwork, and the user all need to be balanced and attuned. Mostly, Eliot’s wings are in superb shape. Fillorian Royal couriers often carry the most precious cargo and are popular targets of bandits and thieves. Despite this, they are the most efficient and safest way to move important documents and small items around the world. So they’re well-compensated for their work.

“It looks like your scapular bearings are worn down a lot more than they ought to be, can I take a look at you?”

“Sure,” Eliot says, starting to untie his shirt. “How do you want me?”

Eliot Waugh: Flirt of the Century. Angel of the Crown. Client.

“You can leave that on for now.”

I really love this story so far. Its worldbuilding is marvelous to me, and the promise of a plotty, twisty adventure has me wishing I had all the story right now...and the UST is making me smile. If you're looking for a fic that reads like a fantasy novel that reads like fic, then this one is the story for you.

Enfleurage, by @ceeainthereforthat

"Drink it," Eliot says. "It can't go back in the bottle, can it?"

Quentin lifts the glass and lets it hover just in front of his nose. It's like perfume, a forward, complex fragrance that carries the terroir of the land the grapes bloomed and ripened in. 2009--a near perfect year for French wine, and this one a sterling example of a tiny village in his favorite region.

Eliot watches him breathing in the bouquet, waiting for him to lift the glass to his lips and drink. The smooth glass tilts, and Quentin's tasting the first notes of plum in the second before—

Oh. Oh. Quentin holds the wine in his mouth and closes his eyes as sunlight caresses his face. The wine unfurls into round, earthy tannins, soft dusty violets, the power and delicacy of grapevines that were old before he was born. He opens his eyes and Eliot's studying him, a tiny, secret smile as he reaches out and caresses Quentin's cheek.

"Thank you," he says. "That was exquisite."

Quentin swallows his wine to a rolling, prismatic finish. "You knew. You knew exactly what this bottle was worth."

"Every cent," Eliot says. "I wanted to watch you enjoy it."

"Enjoy it?" Quentin asks. "It's--sublime. I've never had anything like it."

"If you're like that with all your first times, Quentin Coldwater, I'm going to find a new one for you every week."

This is the first of my Magicians fics. It's in progress, and so far it's 70k and about 2/3rds done, and I'm hopelessly in love with it. I never planned on writing such a long story, but it is what it is, and following the characters into this timeline 41 story is wonderful.

Videotape #1, by @ceeainthereforthat

"You can say no to anything," Eliot says. "You can ask me anything you want."

Quentin pushes his hair out of his eyes. "Does the camera work?"

"Yes."

"Is there even a VHS in the cottage?"

"There is."

Quentin stares at it for a long moment. "Do you want to keep the tape?"

"Only if you'll let me."

Quentin looks over the whole scene, and his tongue darts out of his mouth to lick his lips. "What do you want me to do?"

"Whatever you want. I have an interview I'd like to do while you do it."

"Okay," Quentin says. "Yes. Yes to all of it."

This is the second of the Hedonism for Beginners series. It's partially inspired by a 30 year old movie starring James Spader called Sex, Lies, and Videotape. I thought it was just going to be the sequel and I'd be done, but in writing it, I realized that it really was going to be a series, or perhaps more accurately, a serial where Q and El explore their desires together and inevitably catch feelings. My slogan for this series is "All sex! No disasters!" so it's not going to be a twisty dramatic thing like Enfleurage, with each of the stories focusing on the sexual adventures of the characters.

[serendipitousrambles]

El(la) enchanted AU

I watched this movie again recently and it was one of my favourites when I was younger and this is really vague but I just couldn't stop thinking about a mileven au

_____________________

El was born with these powers but it's kind of a curse and she doesn't really like it because people just abuse her powers

She wants to break the curse of her powers and goes on a trip (taking her talking book Lucas who has been accidentally cursed by his girlfriend Max and she can't figure out how to change him back) and they meet a Leprechaun (Dustin) who just wants to be a lawyer instead of an entertainer.

While fighting off dangerous creatures, she bumps into the prince (Mike) who just wants to escape all his fangirls

They team up and together they try and hunt down whoever cursed El with her powers. Mike learns about them, but he's the first person she's ever met (besides her best friend back home Will) who doesn't abuse her for them or try to make her do stuff.

Mike takes her back to the castle to see if they can find anything in the library about curse breaking. But of course he's fallen madly in love with her.

So he's talking to his uncle Brenner who actually wants to be king and plans to kill Mike.

Brenner learns about El's powers and he forces her to use them on Mike to kill him. But she resists him.

They team up together (but it's mostly El) to destroy Brenner at Mike's coronation.

*insert a totally badass fight scene where she just straight up kills someone and Mike just stops and looks at her with the biggest heart eyes imaginable*

They stop Brenner and Mike just turns to El and is like "marry me" and of course she's totally in love with him back and just kisses him before giving her answer like "yes!"

And then happy ending, Dustin gets his dream, Lucas is turned back into a man and marries Max, Will catches the bouquet at Mike and El's wedding.

*wedding features a duet of don't go breaking my heart* this movie was amazing

Mike becomes King and El is queen and everyone loves them as rulers.

[gldngrl7]

Karamel Fic: Edging Toward Synchronicity (2/8)

Author: gldngr7

Rating: Explicit

Began: March 11, 2017

Chapters: 8

 Feedback:  Encouragement and constructive criticisms are always welcome. Flames are destroyed with my freeze breath.  Intentional Anti hate is taken as encouragement and a challenge to up my game.

 Author’s Notes:

I’m not even kidding around anymore.  This story is about a journey to intimacy and that intimacy includes heavy elements of BDSM, Dominance/submission and Daddy-kink.  If you know you’re not into that or interested in seeing more, walk away now.  Kid gloves are off, folks.

If you would like to know who to thank for this upping of my smut game, you can thank the Anti who left me a hate comment on my last story telling me that I was going to hell and that I needed to “atone for my sins” for “hating woman”.  To this Anti: If you thought I had “out-grossed” Fifty Shades of Gray before…you ain’t seen nothing yet.  Just so you know…”This was all for you, Damien.  All for you!”  Enjoy. And know that there’s so much more where this came from.  I take your hate as

Dedicated to my fam member @mon-kai-el  and dirty bitches squad (aka The Dark Side) whose dirty talk showed me that I could take the kid gloves off.  Stay thirsty, my friend.

For those of you who care…there is in fact plot.  And it moves forward and everything!

PSA:  If there are any Babysubs out there who read this and think, ‘this is me’ and you don’t know what to do.  If you want to talk, message me.  It’s important that you know this:  THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU!  Not a damn thing, and don’t ever let anyone tell you differently.

  Tagging: @mon-kai-el, @actualpuppychriswood, @pwettypwita, @contygold86, @karamelizedlove, @kelbottumbles, @starcrossed-comets, @emarasmoak, @fangirlintheforest, @ships-sailing-in-the-night, @lostin-the-desert

     Hold

          Hold on

                Hold on to me

‘     Cause I’m a little unsteady

             A little unsteady

               If you love me, don’t let go

 -The Renegades – “Unsteady”

  Chapter 2/8

 “Okay, clearly I am stirring up some unresolved feelings inside you…”

 “Wait a minute,” Mon-El insists, his feet padding steadily on the treadmill at an easy two-minute-per-mile pace.  “Isn’t that what you are?  A manifestation of unresolved feelings?”

“You’re not entirely wrong.  But I meant more unresolved feelings.  I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you have a lot of them.”

“As evidenced by the hallucination of my dead friend.”

“Yes, and I’d really like it if we could deal with me first.  I think I‘m a little more pressing in the overall scheme.  Also, something tells me that the unresolved feelings about what just happened in there are going to take care of themselves.”

“Fine,” Mon-El capitulates.  “How can I help you?”  He rolls his eyes, utterly aware that he’s offering his assistance and his undivided attention to a figment of his imagination.

“Okay, let’s start with this.  We are cohabitating with Kara.  Now…I know there’s a lot to be happy about here.  Making your latching official—“

“Mating,” Mon-El hastily corrects.

“Pot-ay-to, po-tah-to,” Ral chuckles, disregarding the correction.

“It’s not the same,” Mon-El insists.  “Not here, it’s not.  There’s mating first, and then there’s latching…if both parties agree.  As I understand it.”

“I think we both know where this is going, Brother. Why obfuscate it?”

“Because…”

“Because she doesn’t know everything about you yet?” Ral offers.

“And when she does, this relationship will be over faster than you can say ‘liar, liar – pants on fire’.”

“Why would anyone--?”

“I don’t know.  It’s just a crazy thing they say.”

“Maybe you’re not giving her enough credit...?”  Ral shrugs.

“Our history when it comes to all things Daxam-related isn’t exactly stellar.”  Mon-El feels his tense muscles finally begin to loosen as he slips into the rhythm of his run.  Ral leans against the concrete wall in front him, his arms crossed while he strokes his chin thoughtfully.  A stance he remembers well from the times when Ral’s devious mind was pressed into service in order to extract Mon-El from some mischief in which he had inevitably found himself embroiled.  “What are you thinking about?” Mon-El asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

“She suspects something,” Ral announces.  “We’ll have to be careful in our communications.”

“I’ll leave you secret notes on the fridge,” he whispers, conspiratorially.

“Will you be serious?”

“I don’t think that’s what you really want,” Mon-El answers.

Unexpectedly, Ral’s form shifts, and the image in his mind suddenly wears the form of a once beautiful young woman, blood pouring down her face from a savagely torn scalp.  “Help me,” she begs.  Her hand, clutching a small bouquet of desert blooms, reaches out for him.  His feet falter on the treadmill, and before he can catch himself he’s face down, the moving belt spitting him off the machine like he’s a nasty tasting morsel.

When his body stops rolling, Mon-El comes to rest on his back, eyes staring up the fluorescent lamps on the ceiling.  “What in the name of Bask!” he curses.  He isn’t hurt, of course, just slightly disoriented and unable to get the sight of the woman out of his mind, as though she’s burned on his retinas. He digs his fingers into his eyes, attempting to erase the image.  Mercifully, when his eyes open, Ral is standing above him, peering down upon him.

“Very graceful,” he comments, his eyes blinking slowly as though unimpressed by Mon-El’s full-bodied impression of tumbleweed.

“Stop doing that,” Mon-El groans between gritted teeth.

“Doing what?”

“Changing into her.”

“Oh, that wasn’t me,” Ral explains, lodging his hands on his hips. “That was all you.”

“But why would I…?”

“Unresolved…blah, blah, blah,” Ral says, checking beneath his fingernails as though their cleanliness might soon be witnessed by someone of incredible import.  “Get used to it, my friend.  Something tells me it’s going to be happening more and more often.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Doesn’t it?”  Ral wonders. “It doesn’t make sense that the more secure you start to feel in this life, the more your mind might start to loosen its stranglehold on everything you’ve been keeping so tightly locked down? Seems legit to me.  Maybe J’onn was right.  Maybe you should see a Preceptor.”

“They call them therapists here.”

“Right.  That’s what I said.”

Mon-El rolls over onto his stomach before popping up to his feet. He stares down at the still-running treadmill, its low-pitched hum now sounding to him for all the world like an aggressive growl.  Done for the night, Mon-El reaches over and yanks the emergency-stop tab from the machine’s face panel, something he hadn’t had time to think about doing when he was busy falling ass-over-teakettle.  “Useless piece of shi—“

Kara walks in on what looks like Mon-El abusing and cursing the gym equipment.  She had hoped that the hour she took to run a few errands and do some shopping would have given him enough time to cool off, but just in case, she came prepared with her mea culpa.  “I really hope it’s truly the machine you’re angry at and not me,” she says, interrupting the angry glare-fest directed at the treadmill.

Mon-El spins around at the sound of her voice, finding that the Supergirl from an hour ago is gone and that Kara Danvers stands in her place, her black floral skirt and pink blouse striking the perfect balance between sexy and innocent.  He grimaces, embarrassed to be caught raging at an inanimate object.

“Though it’s better than being caught talking to a hallucination,” Ral adds to Mon-El’s thoughts.  “Go with it.”

Her brow is crinkled with concern, more for herself than for him it seems, and for some reason, she’s waving a white gym towel at him.  “Kara?”

“Are you still angry with me?” she wonders, waving the towel again. Perhaps she should have given him two hours to cool off instead of one, especially if his anger is spreading to encompass harmless gym equipment.

“What’s with the…?” he nods his head toward the towel.

“Oh!” she exclaims, realizing that he’s lacking crucial context to comprehend her display.  “It’s a white flag,” she exposits.  “Or at least it’s the best I could come up with on short notice.”

“A white flag?” he queries, curious about what lies behind this demonstration.

“In most Earth cultures,” she explains, strolling towards him, “a white flag is used to indicate surrender by one party for a battle to come to an end.  It’s also used to request mercy for the conceding party.”

Drawn to her as though she’s the center of his gravity, he moves in her direction until they meet in the middle of the room.  He knows he’s not supposed to touch her or exhibit any physical affection for her while in the DEO, but he theorizes that this policy is likely to remain a work in progress – perhaps for a bit longer than a while. “You’ve never needed a white flag to surrender to me before,” he smirks, the lids of his steel-gray eyes drifting to half-mast.

“You’ve never been this angry with me before,” she points out. “I mean, not since we…started seeing each other.”

“Seeing each other?” he muses, interest piqued by her use of the term. “That doesn’t sound quite complex enough for what’s happening between us.  Does it?”  He wants to reach for her, pull her into his embrace but twists his own gym towel between his hands instead.

“No,” she agrees, softly.  “It doesn’t.  It’s not nearly complex enough.  I just know that you’re my partner…my mate…I chose you—“ she smiles as soon as the words are out of her mouth, knowing what he’ll do next.

“I chose you,” he insists, his smile matching hers.

Her lips tingle with the need to brush against his, to feel his breath mingling with hers as though the very act charges the air around them, turning it into a renewable power source. Kara bites on her lower lip in an attempt to stifle the rush of blood there, before she opens her mouth to speak.  “Why do I get the feeling we’re going to be having this argument for a long, long time?”

Mon-El’s eyes widen, and a sadness quickly passes through them, like catching a glimpse of something in the corner of one’s eye, only to turn and find that perception mistaken.  “I hope so,” he replies.  “You have no idea how much.”

“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” she rushes, misinterpreting the source of his fleeting sadness.  “J’onn and I got ahead of ourselves.  We shouldn’t have been talking about you like you weren’t in the room.  Making decisions about what you should do without consulting you first.”

“Kara, look, I know that you don’t think I’ve trained enough—that I’m not ready—“

“No, but that’s not it,” she interrupts, grabbing for him, her hands on his shoulders.  “It’s your lead allergy,” she explains.  “There’s so much of it out there, and it can all be used to hurt you.  I just want to make sure you’re as protected as possible before you take on those calls, that’s all.”

“Really?”

“I couldn’t…”  She bites her lip, her eyes glancing away from him as a blush stains her cheeks.

“What is it?” he presses, cupping her cheek to turn her face back towards his.

“Remember this morning when I was worried that the DEO would send a tactical team to find you, and you joked that there were worse ways to die?”

Mon-El recalls that she hadn’t found his joke funny and had insisted they issue a moratorium on gallows humor.  “I remember,” he nods, with a shrug.  “What about it?”

“Cadmus almost killed you and…”  Her guts clench inside as she teeters on the edge of a monumental confession, just a stiff breeze away from tipping over the precipice.  A frustrated moan rises in her, slipping through her tightly pressed lips as her eyes squeeze tightly shut, “…and Medusa.”

“That was a long time ago,” Mon-El says, his voice taking on a soft, soothing tone.

“It doesn’t feel that way,” she counters.  “It feels like it just happened.  Mon-El…I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.  If you were hurt out there, I wouldn’t be able to…”  Her confession trails off as she becomes lost in his gaze, her blue eyes rising to meet his soft gray regard.  She shakes her head, as though unable to continue, and seeing her growing discomfort, Mon-El takes over, filling the silence she left behind.

“I feel the same,” he admits.  “Every time you go out there.”

“But—“

“You’re not invincible, Kara,” he interjects.  “You can tell yourself that all you like, but that doesn’t make it true.  I know that bullets can’t hurt you like they can hurt me, but that doesn’t mean that nothing can!  And…at the risk of making you angry, you can be reckless, Kara – rushing into dangerous situations without gaining a full understanding of the risks.  I know who you are,” he insists. “I see what you can do.  But that doesn’t mean I’m ever going to stop worrying.  I understand your concerns.  I live them every day.  But you’ve never backed down when facing an enemy that could hurt you.  I don’t understand why you think I shouldn’t do the same.”

She feels her own brow crinkling as though to mirror his concerned countenance and raises a hand to rub at the overactive muscles there.  Here is a topic they’ve never really discussed, not before they became involved and not after.  Kara knows her own feelings on the matter, recalling vividly the events of the Cadmus hostage-taking and his brush with death in the form of the Medusa virus created by her own father.

Mon-El has only been in her life for a few short months and already she’s witnessed his near death on two separate occasions.  And both of those occasions occurred before.  Before she let him in.  Before she chose him.  Before she learned that she can’t breathe without him.  Long before discovering that her body sings when he touches her, when he whispers against her heated skin, and when his eyes drift down to her lips, gazing at them like they’re his salvation.

She’d kept him at such a distance then, refusing to know him, talking a good game about his potential, but really refusing to see him as anything other than a Daxamite wastrel.  She’d treated him accordingly, facing him in the direction she wanted him to go but citing his cultural upbringing each time he stepped off of her pre-approved path. Cursing the place of his birth as though it was something better forgotten to the ravages of an extinction level event, rather than a culture worthy of remembrance because of the loss of so many lives.  It wasn’t just a planet that died but billions of hearts that stopped beating, and the last heartbeat remaining, stands before her now.

And more than anything, she wants that heartbeat to endure because…because she loves him.  She loves him!  Her stomach drops to her feet, and everything inside of her freezes as her own realization paralyzes her.  Her tongue turns to hot sand, and her hands begin shaking.  She loves him, and she doesn’t have the first clue if he feels the same – if she’s out on this limb all by herself.  It’s like when she was a child, first learning to fly.  The wind would lift her, carry her for a few moments, but then the ground would come rushing, rushing up to her, and all of her efforts, all of that soaring, would be for naught.  Each attempt leading to crushing disappointment until one day she just…stopped.

Maybe she isn’t ready.

“Kara?”  Mon-El’s fingers brush against her cheek, and she flinches from it slightly, raising his distress level.  He snatches his hand from her skin, his fingers tingling as though venom were spreading through his bloodstream.

Mon-El’s voice interrupts her revelatory reflection.  Her thoughts had taken her down a bit of a rabbit hole from which she struggles to emerge.  “What?” she mutters.

“You okay, Kara?” he demands, his concern ratcheting up a few notches and filtering through the tone in his voice.

His voice brings her out of her haze, his face coming into clear, sharp focus.  His lips are tight, and his brows have snapped together to create a deep crevice between them, but the most striking thing are his eyes: so deep and fathomless, those bottomless grays that hide nothing when his thoughts center on her; the emotions floating on the surface there inscrutable to her only because of her lack of experience in this arena.  If only she could read their messages with confidence.  If only her own feelings didn’t cause her to second-guess his.

“I’m fine,” she lies, shaking off her petrification like loose tree bark.

“No, you’re not,” he contradicts.  She’s fearful suddenly, her eyes turning shiny blue, the crinkle in her forehead unmistakable to him.  “You think I don’t know how you look when something’s bothering you?”

“I don’t….” she tries but trails off.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asks gently, assuming he’s found the root of the problem.

“Second thoughts?”

“It’s okay to change your mind,” he promises.  “I can keep staying here until I can afford to get my own place.”

“No,” she answers, violently shaking her head back and forth.  “I haven’t changed my mind.  I’m not going to change my mind.”  He’s trying not to look overly hopeful, and she can’t bear the thought of taking that hope from his eyes.  She wants him there, in her home, in her bed; promising to make breakfast in the mornings but rarely following through, leaving his pants strewn across her furniture, and putting too much soap in the washing machine.  She wants all of that.  More than, she realizes now, she has ever wanted anything in her recollection.  Her hand brushes against her belly, not enough so that he would notice but just enough to remind her.  She wants all of him.  Even the part he doesn’t know about yet.  Reaching up, she presses a kiss on his lips, quick enough that if they’re lucky, it might go unnoticed by the camera’s monitors.

“Are you sure?” he asks again.  “Because you don’t seem that certain at the moment.  You seem a little…lost.”

“I’m not lost,” she insists, staring unwaveringly in his eyes.  “I know what I want.”  Kara places a hand on his face, the pad of her thumb tracing the orbital bone of his upper cheek just beneath his eye.  “Let’s go home, Mon-El,” she whispers.

Judging the truth in her eyes, Mon-El breathes a sigh of relief and nods.  “I’ll pack my things.”

“I’ll help,” she offers.

She takes his hand as they walk out of the gym and head towards his quarters, loving the way it feels when his long, graceful fingers interlace with hers. Loving him and the way he looks at her, eyes soft and unguarded.

“So…this white flag policy,” he wonders, information gathering for future reference.  “Does it work this well for all disagreements?”

Kara laughs at what she believes to be a jest – the kind of joke he would make to see her smile.  “Why?” she teases.  “Planning on using the technique?”

The pit of his stomach roiling with the stress of confining secrets bursting toward freedom and mayhem, he forces a smile and hopes she doesn’t notice the difference.  “I have a feeling I might need to over the next few months.  I’ve heard that living together can be an adjustment.  Just…be patient with me?”

Kara squeezes his hand.  “Promise,” she vows.

In his quarters, it doesn’t take very long to pack the modest belongings in his footlocker and to grab a few other things he’s hoarded in the months since his arrival.  Kara requested a ride home from one of the SUVs in the DEO motor pool, thinking it imprudent to use any but normal means of transport in this situation.  Less than half an hour after leaving the gym, they stand in the fourth floor corridor of her loft apartment.

“I got something for you,” she announces, her hesitant smile belied by the mixture of sparkling mischief and excitement in her eyes.

“You did?” he teased, setting the footlocker down in front of the door.  “A surprise?”

Kara nods, digging around in her purse until she finds what she stashed there earlier.  She removes a Supergirl keychain with two keys attached and a tiny bow wrapped around the ring itself.  “Your keys,” she says.

Mon-El laughs but feels his heart race and his stomach flip flop, a shiver of heat racing down his spine.  “For me?” he teases.

“For you.”

“A Supergirl keychain?” he wonders.

Kara shrugs.  “They were selling them at the hardware store where I had the keys cut.  I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’ll be able to carry a piece of you wherever I go now,” he says, his storm-cloud eyes growing darker as the pupils expand right before her eyes. “Even when I can’t be near you.”

Kara finds the notion odd but still romantic.  Since their relationship became physical, when have they been unable to be near one another?  Mon-El is a romantic at heart—she’s suspected this truth for a long time—one of the many things she loves about him.  “Care to do the honors?” she suggests, indicating the door in front of them.

He nods and unlocks the door, swinging it open before bending down to pick up his chest of things.  When he stands up, his knees nearly buckle beneath him because what he sees before him isn’t the loft he’s already come to think of as a haven but a burning, exploding wreckage of the palace he escaped decades ago.  He can feel the heavy, tugging grip of hands on his shoulders but is drawn instead to the image of Ral lying on the floor, bloodied to the point of being nearly unrecognizable, his broken legs twisted grotesquely to either side of his body.

“There’s no time,” Ral rasps weakly around horribly split lips.  “You have to leave me!  I’ll only slow us both down.  You can still escape.”

He can feel the heat of its fires on his face; smell the burning flesh of victims screaming for help as they reach charred arms out for him.  His ears fill with the sounds of wordless screams as chunks of plaster and stone fall all around him, narrowly missing him as if their strikes were never meant to land.  He can feel the disturbance of the ground around him as they smash against the ground splintering into shards that fly into the air all around him.  A molten rock crashes through the crumbling palace ceiling and explodes at Ral’s feet, tearing apart the man’s body before Mon-El’s eyes and sending his remains flying in all directions.  Mon-El flinches away from the carnage he can’t un-see, and his fingers lose their grip on the box of his things.  “Ral?”

Unaware of the onset of his distress, Kara enters the loft as always, dropping her purse and keys on the kitchen island and flipping through the mail she retrieved from the mailbox downstairs on their way up.  It’s not until she’s startled by the sound of his footlocker crashing to the ground that she realizes he isn’t in the apartment with her.  The envelopes slip from her fingers when she spins back to the doorway, skittering across the flooring like shards of a broken dish.

“Mon-El?” she inquires.  He’s pale as a sheet, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as his breath comes in quick gasps. Immediately, she’s by his side.  “Mon-El, what is it?”  When his eyes open, she recognizes the thousand-yard stare, one she’d heard Eliza talk about when she was younger.  One she’s seen on J’onn’s face more than a few times.  Not wishing to startle him, she refrains from touching his trembling body, using her voice instead to shake him from his memories. “Baby?” she calls, hoping for a response.  Her voice is an approximation of cool and calm, while her insides are the exact opposite, performing frenetically like a squirrel jumping from limb to limb in a copse of trees.  “Come back to me.  Follow my voice.  I’m right here, baby.  I’m right here.  Please?” she begs.

Her plea cuts through the mayhem, finding him in the middle of his hellish landscape.  Melting the images away like hot water thrown on a still wet canvas.  Slowly, the memory fades as Kara calls for him, softly but with total resolution, her voice becoming louder and louder than the din around him.  The world comes back into focus, but it’s too late because he’s falling, falling to his knees and into her arms, taking her down with him.  “Kara?” he croaks, as though he can’t quite believe she’s truly there with him.  He can smell the violet-scent of her hair shampoo, and he clings to that like it’s the lone piece of driftwood in a raging river.

“I’m here,” she whispers into his neck, wrapping her arms around him, stroking his spine with long, soothing strokes.  “I’ve got you.”

“What happened?” he asks, everything spinning around him.  “I was…” His breath comes hard and fast, on the verge of hyperventilation.  “I was…”  He chokes on the words and the air around him.  When he opens his eyes again the world whites out, becoming obscenely bright as though a flashbulb has gone off in his face.  He slams his eyes shut to block it out, seeing the negative imprint of her and the loft on the back of his eyelids.

“You were there,” she hypothesizes, her voice shaking, a bit of fear seeping through.  “Is that right?  You were there?”

Eyes still shut, he nods into her hair.

“It’s okay,” she promises.  “I’m here.  I know what’s happening to you.  You’re going to be all right.  Just breathe.”

Slowly, in excruciating increments, he comes back to himself, back to this place, to her arms, opening his eyes to see everything as he’s come to know it.  She wipes her fingers across his cheeks; erasing tears he hasn’t realized are falling. His heart still races in his chest, and a fine sheen of perspiration has broken out on his face, as well as down his neck and chest.

“Talk to me,” she begs, her voice barely above a whisper.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he confesses.  “I opened the door, but instead of your apartment it was…”

“Daxam?”

“Yes.  That day. There was screaming and fire and so much…screaming and the smell…”

“And you mentioned something,” she presses, gently.  “A name…maybe?  Ral?”

Mon-El remembers and like a flash, the pain sears through his head, his vision going off like a flash bulb again for a split second.  He presses the heels of his palms against his temples. “Ahhhhh,” he moans, the pain streaking through him like an overload of electricity.

“It’s okay,” she declares.  Something is triggering him, and the memories cause real, physical pain as they emerge.  Like an infected boil in need of lancing, his memories require purging if he’s ever to process his grief.  Her gut twists inside at the knowledge of what she needs to do.  “I know it hurts,” she says.  “Just tell me one thing.  Who was Ral? Was he there with you?”

“Yes,” he groans.  “Everything was collapsing around us, the world was ending, and all he wanted was to see me safe.”

“Why?” she wonders.  “Who was he to you?”

“He’s my…he’s my…brother-in-bond,” Mon-El confesses, the pain easing slightly, the tightness in his chest loosening.

Kara shakes her head.  “I don’t understand,” she tells him.  “What does that mean?  Your brother by blood?”

The stabbing pain in his head turns into a dull but insistent throb as he shakes his head.  His breathing, at last, returns to normal, his voice dropping in pitch as though his vocal chords are exhausted.  “Not by blood.  There’s a word for it here, but I can’t…step!” he proclaims. “Stepbrother.  Is that right?  Step? I can’t think straight.”

“Ral was your stepbrother?”

“Yes,” he says, breathing a sigh of relief as the muscles in his neck and shoulders release some of the rock hard tension they’ve been holding. “His mother married my…father when we were just small boys.  I was six, and he was seven.”

It strikes her then, like a heavy mallet against a gong, that he’s never mourned the loss of an individual to her knowledge.  It all seems so vast, the loss of an entire world and everything that a person can identify with, that it’s hard to see the personal loss sometimes.  He’s never mentioned his family or even any friends, and, to her shame, she’s never asked. “You can talk about him, you know,” she reminds him.  “You can talk about…any of them.  You probably need to.”

Mon-El’s eyes meet hers, finally, and the deep, incalculable grief in them shreds at her heart.  “I don’t want you to think I’m weak,” he confesses, shame written plainly across her face.

“Mon-El, I would never think that!” she replies, shocked and saddened at the direction of his thoughts. She pulls him into her embrace, wrapping her arms around him with bone-crushing strength.  But instead of cringing at her power, his body melts into the hug as though allowing himself to be absorbed by her.

He wants to spill everything, all of his secrets and believe from the bottom of his heart that she will understand – that she won’t be angered by it, or worse – sickened by him.  Surviving the destruction of his world would be easy in comparison to watching the affection in her sparkling eyes turn to abhorrence.  But he’s a coward.  He always has been, and he’ll never be anything more, no matter how strong or fast his body is now or how impenetrable his skin.

Mon-El withdraws from the comfort of her embrace, undeserving of such sweet succor and casts his eyes about the room.  “I need…”  His shaky voice trails off.  It occurs to him that they are still half in and half out of the apartment, the front door still open.

“What do you need?”

“I don’t know,” he realizes.  He struggles to his feet, as if all the solar energy in his cells has deserted him.  Reaching down, he picks up the footlocker he dropped, wondering where he’s supposed to store his things.

“How about a cup of tea?”  Kara suggests, as she stands to her feet.  She closes the front door, flipping the deadbolt to lock it.  She rarely locks the door of her loft when she’s inside, practically daring intruders to try her, but tonight she makes an exception. “It’s soothing.  And then maybe…a hot shower before bed.  That always helps me.”

Mon-El swallows the bitter taste in the back of his throat, unable to banish the acrid flavor no matter how many times he tries.  “Tea,” he agrees with a weak nod.  “Lots of sugar.”

“You and your sweet tooth,” she chuckles forcefully, hoping to lighten the mood as she grabs the kettle from atop the stove and begins filling the vessel with water from the tap.

Mon-El stands in the center of the apartment, footlocker in hand, wondering what he should do next; watching as she tinkers about the kitchen lighting the gas stove and turning the knob until the flame is just right.  He wonders if he should just find an unobtrusive corner for his things.  Movies don’t really cover the protocol for this part of cohabitation.  This is usually the part where the credits start to roll across the screen, he realizes, his stomach sinking to his knees.

Confused by his inaction, she glances around the room as she pulls out the ingredients for tea and two mugs.  The loft is so…her.  She’s crammed the place with remembrances and decorative knick-knacks and more chairs than she can possibly fill even if everyone in her life came over at the same time.

She’s filled every corner, every nook and cranny.  There’s not a spare inch of free space for him.  Leaving the kettle to boil, she pastes a smile on her face.  “Let’s make some room,” she declares.  She takes the chest from him, carries it into her…their…bedroom, and places it on the bed. “I know, I have a lot of stuff,” she chuckles, covering her embarrassment at not noticing the problem earlier.  Or being prepared for it.  Had Kara been thinking ahead, it might have occurred to her to come home and clear a drawer or two for the man she loves, while he stewed in the DEO gym.  But after getting his keys cut, she put out a three-alarm apartment fire instead.  “Eliza says it’s because I came here with nothing, and so I hoard things.  Collect them.”

“I may have gotten a little overexcited about purchasing clothes once I found the place of Good Will,” he points out, completely able to see where she was coming from.  He grew up with everything he could have ever needed, and though he is surprised to discover that he doesn’t even miss most of those luxuries, he finds that he doesn’t like the idea of being without something to wear.  Most of his garments, in the beginning, had been borrowed or provided by the DEO.  Mon-El finds that the clothes he purchased with his own currency are the ones that mean the most to him.

Kara speeds over to the rack of hanging clothes on the east side of the room and begins pulling blouses and skirts and slacks from the rack.  She folds them in a blur of movement and stacks them on the bed.  Leaving empty hangers behind, swinging back and forth on the rod, for him to use.

“You don’t have to—“ he begins, feeling guilty that she’s making room to accommodate his presence.

“I do,” she disagrees.  “You deserve space for your own clothes and jackets.  These are all summer clothes anyway,” Kara rationalizes with a casual shrug. “I can store them under the bed until May and then switch out the winter clothes on the rack for the summer ones. It’s fine.”

Following her lead, Mon-El opens the chest and begins removing his clothing, beginning with his growing collection of jackets, which he hangs up on the empty plastic coat hangers.  Over by the chest of drawers, positioned against the wall near the bathroom door, she clears the bottom drawer full of novelty sweatshirts and t-shirts she rarely uses.  She can go through them later and perhaps find items to donate to the ‘place of Good Will’ this weekend.  Mon-El hangs up his button down shirts on the rack, while she extracts his jeans, t-shirts, and pajamas from the footlocker and organizes them in the bottom drawer of her wardrobe.  When she’s done, there’s space to spare.

She folds his boxers and rolls his socks, placing them meticulously in the top drawer alongside her socks and panties.  The blood in her veins thrills at the sight, the visual evidence of their lives edging towards synchronicity.  Despite her nervousness, she can’t deny that she wants this.  His things mixed in with hers.

“You’re not a guest,” she says, turning around to face him, her hands clasping nervously together.  “I want you to understand that.  This is your home.”

His lips lift up on one side in a cock-eyed smile, hands shoved deeply into his pockets as he rocks slightly back on his heels.  But his eyes gaze into hers without flinching away for the first time since his temporary breakdown.  “Our home,” he amends.

Kara’s lips pursing coyly together as though trying to suppress a smile she really wants to give free reign.  She nods.  “Our home.”

 TBC