#I love his scars and his rugged look but this is also beautiful to me

[catz4ever]

MY GOD.

DON'T GET ME WRONG I LOVE THE SCARS BUT SAM COULD PLAY A FAIR-FORM ELF ANY DAY.

OH. MY. OVARIES.

[tojisun]

the lights are on

!! simon riley x afab reader; chubby reader; confidence and body issues; past bullying (not by simon and briefly mentioned); smut - minors dni // divider by @/plutism!

i projected too much of myself onto the reader so do forgive me for that. this is a milestone celebration for me, mostly, but also for you all so i hope you all would like it too <3

this is inspired by rachel wiley’s “10 honest thoughts on being loved by a skinny boy” - a slam poetry

you are told that love comes easily — that it is the budding of spring, shimmering and vibrant, and blooming oh-so tenderly. unfurling oh-so carefully, like you are melting into padded sheets and cashmere sweaters.

you are told that love comes easily — that it stands out amongst a vast ocean. that it is distinguishable; a beacon so familiar you run towards it, unafraid and unashamed. like fate or destiny; like fairytales being remade.

you are told that love comes easily, but you know they mean to people who don’t look like you; only for the girls with slim arms and robust legs, with dips in their waists and hour-glass figures, with bones pressing against their skins like carved mountains.

love comes easily to thin girls. to the girls whose loud laughter are heard as wind chimes, whose jolly isn’t sneered at or embarrassing to see, whose confidence is just is — that it isn’t an act of empowerment or a statement or a message.

so you slink back into your shadows with little laughs and curled shoulders, like maybe if you diminished your presence enough, you would be seen physically small too. petite is a word no one has used for you but how else can anyone explain the way you trim yourself into bite-sized pieces?

you aren’t the first to be chosen; not the one people fight over. when you walk into a room, the best that could happen was that no one would notice you. that you would blend into the shadows or the walls, quiet and peaceful. painfully lonely, yes, but peaceful, nevertheless.

(you still have nightmares of high school.

of boys using you for their dares, like the only thing good about you was to be the butt of the joke; like asking you out was a comedic show.

of girls and—

sometimes, they’re meaner than the boys with all their lilac and softness; you thought that at least they were a kindred soul, but so many times, during lunch, you were cornered into tears until you became full from nothing but your anguish.)

when simon first walked into your life, you knew it — whatever ‘it’ could be — was impossible.

you had already ended the tragedy before something could even begin. you saw his beauty — in a way that you cannot explain; in a way that is rugged and scarred and terrifying, almost, but beautiful, still — and knew there was no way he would fall for you, anyway.

but simon was… persistent. charming you in a way that was painfully absent of all suave but he was still so charismatic, he always left your stomach in knots. hope bloomed in your chest and you realized that maybe it needn’t be a tragedy; that it mustn’t be a joke nor a dare; that you must be—

loved.

that you are loved — just that. just as is.

.

.

simon watches as you lay down on the bed, your cheeks tingling with heat as embarrassment rises from the base of your neck, dancing past your shoulders and devouring up until even the tip of your nose thrums with feverish touch. you look away from him, feeling so shy at the intensity in his eyes. he looks at you like he is ravenous for you; like you are the only nourishment he needs, and that you have made him hungry, his gums aching with the need to sink his teeth into the soft parts of your body.

you have never been looked at like this before, and it is intoxicating. it makes you heady, breathless, lips parted open as you gasp for air—

rustling fills your ears and you perk up, getting ready to snap your bra off, only to find simon naked, bare, his cock chubbing up from underneath his bush, and you have never loved a body until his. lust coils in the tendrils of your heart, stretching into the yawning that burrows in the pit of your stomach to capture you whole.

you want him.

god, do you want him.

he falls to his knees, stalking close to where you are splayed on the bed like the offering you are that he says he will never deserve, but you stop him with a hand up and a quiet breath, and, “the lights.”

your voice trembles. shame slowly snuffs out the greed.

“can you turn them off, please?” you ask because it is a courtesy you were taught to—

‘can you bathe me in darkness so that the two of us can pretend that i am not undesirable and that your love is not a fluke?’

‘can you hide me from your eyes so your mind does not give you reason to pull away?’

‘can you reduce me into a body to fuck into, so that our pretend-love story does not end?’

your question makes simon still, his heady eyes lightening up again. recognition slips into his consciousness and he rouses up — you tell yourself that the caving in your chest isn’t a heartbreak — to reach forward.

to reach for—

you.

simon’s scarred palm falls to your stomach, planting atop the sea of stretch marks. his thumb traces their ridges, so soft and slow and intimate, and your eyes burn because why is he so cruel?

why must he touch you like you are something to revere? like you are something priceless and that he is undeserving of you? like you are, all parts, beautiful?

“won’t you let me love you like this?” is what he says instead, and he moves, desperate to meet your eyes. “can we do it with the lights on, from now on?”

all the air in your lungs is knocked out of you.

his words were quiet but they resonated so loudly, almost booming and deafening. the world doesn’t freeze nor does time slow, but there is something in that moment that makes you feel like you are at the throes of something divine. like you are finally sewn together.

you do not sob but you are so close to doing so. instead, you pull him close, trembling, and give him a kiss. he melts into it, his hands mapping the softness of your body, digging into the fat and never letting go.

he devours you like this — hot lips against your own. spit is shared, moans fall in between the tiny cracks whenever you pull away to breathe only for simon to push close again, never letting you stray alone any longer, and clingy as he fits you into him.

the first drag of his fingers into your cunt makes you gasp, your head falling back to the pillows as a mewl drips from your mouth. he pulls away, huffing, and positions himself so he can watch you. you keep your head tipped up, still so embarrassed by being exposed this way, but simon curls his fingers just right, and he strokes against something that punches a gasp out of you.

“shit—”

“like this, sweetheart?” simon croons, nuzzling his face on your rib, his cheek bumping against your boob. he pulls his fingers out, dragging with him muffled squelching noises that tickle your ears, before fucking his fingers in you again.

you whine, a drawn hiccupped sound, and claw at the sheets at the pace he adopts. it is fast, overwhelming, but still not enough. it seems like he’s spoiled you rotten, and left you needy for nothing but his cock.

“fuck me,” you whimper, arms looped around his wrists. you feel so weak from the pleasure, wrung out of orgasms with his fingers in your cunt and his palm against your clit. you flick your eyes up, meeting his gaze. “si, please?”

he lets out a snarl, his softness and need peaking into something dangerous. you find that you are not scared, instead, you are besotted — inviting him in by spreading your legs wider, showing him how wet your pussy is and that it is ready for his taking.

your face crumples at the slow slide, his cock fucking you raw like this is the first time again. like you two have more to explore, more to uncover, and you keen at the intensity of it all.

missionary has never felt this good before; simon thrusts his hips, humping the remaining inches in, and you scream — your hips snapping up, and your throat burning with the ache. simon holds you by your waist, his fingers dimpling your flesh, and fucks you with gusto.

he chases his orgasm as he melts into you. he is louder today, and more guttural with his desires. he snarls his praises, the words curling from the backs of his teeth until they drip on you like hot wax — scalding, overwhelming, and leaving you to feel all tender and raw.

“si!” you cry out, reaching forward to play with your clit. “m’close, baby. m’close!”

“yeah?” he rasps out, his balls slapping against your ass. you go dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as goosebumps rise across the expanse of your body. “do i make my baby feel good? tell me, sweetheart, go on. tell me, huh?”

he is rambling, untethered, himself, as he loses in his own swelling euphoria.

you sob, toes digging into the mattress because you are unable to properly vocalize the pleasure, your mind all razed by the way he fucks you, but your baby is asking you to do so, so you tell him, “s’good. baby, s’good! i feel so full an’ only you can fuck me good an’— an’ si, i’m gonna— i’m gonna—”

your orgasm hits you like a fever breaking; like you are feeling a sense of release that has never been felt before. you feel like you are suspended, floating, your skin buzzing with lightning. you don’t even know you are screaming, deaf to anything but the explosion of ecstatic pleasure.

your teeth rattle at the first spurt of simon’s cum, and he presses uncoordinated kisses on your lips. it makes you giggle, all sluggish now that exhaustion is weaving in, and it is then that you meet simon’s eyes.

they are so clear and vibrant, the way they only ever are under light. they crinkle in his smile, and you puff, snuggling close, feeling like you can drop to sleep with his cock still in you.

“love you si,” you murmur, your words sticking together in your drowsiness.

he presses a kiss on your temple and breathes you in. then, “i love you too, sweetheart.”

and the lights are still on.

thank you once again for the 15k, and i hope you have loved this the way i loved writing it <33

i was struck with the poetry, and the way wiley described the way she is loved. she started her performance with the lines: “i say, ‘i am fat.’ he says, ‘no, you are beautiful.’ i wonder why i cannot be both.” and i have never related to anything more. wiley then talks about how their relationship unfurls, and in ‘6’ (it is a list poetry), she says, “he tells me he loves me with the lights on,” and i sobbed.

so i wrote a fic of me, and i hope thats alright.

[hoshigray]

MAPPA gave Nanami such beautiful hands that they never fail to make you feel things.

a/n: Bye, the trailer JUST came out, and I can't get over how good they made Nanami, so I'm writing out this to put myself together. @satoruhour pushed me on to write this so ty swee-T-pie, love u sm 💓 this is just like when they released that hidden inventory trailer and i drooled over Toji's hands help 💀 so yeah this is just me writing a short smthn for kento's hands, sorry not sorry. also tysm for 1.9k!!!

cw: Nanami x fem/afab! reader - first soft then smutty, so minors DNI - h@nd h0lding - soft dom! Nanami bc yes - fingering (f! receiving) - hand kink (ig?) - fingers in reader's mouth - pet names (angel, love, sweet girl) - praise - clitoral play - you and Nanami in a cute domestic relationship ♡

wc: 950

You love Kento Nanami's hands. It's no secret to yourself because it's the truth. But you can't blame yourself; you can't help it! There are so many moments with him where you can't help but admire the man's big hands, and honestly, it's embarrassing at this point. It's a guilty pleasure that makes you feel such pleasant emotions, makes you want him more and more.

Even before the two of you expressed courtship, there were days when you'd encounter and have idle chitchat with the stoic man, and those were days that were hard to go through when you had such a tremendous crush on the guy. So much so that you'd drift your gaze away from his feline mocha eyes masked by his eyepiece. Instead, you'd look at his hands, admiring how beautiful and big they are. Aside from his face, they were the only thing visible from his dapper suit. Not that you complained, though. The more you saw and talked with Nanami, the more you marveled at his hands in your thoughts.

And when you two finally started dating, things were going slow and steady. Just as the two of you wanted — no rush at all. But a memory you hold dear to your heart was when the two of you walked home in the cold winter. The chilly breeze sent shivers down your spine, and your nose found breathing tricky in the extreme temperature change. Not to mention you forgot your mittens at home. Just my luck...

However, it wasn't all that bad. After all, your boyfriend (it felt a little weird calling him that) offered to walk you to your place, sticking close to your side, which was a rarity back then. Heat finally found its way up to your cold cheeks when Nanami took the initiative to grab ahold of your hand with his, the size difference making it easy to exchange warmth. "Here," he said so nonchalantly it almost felt like a dream. "Don't want the wind to blow you off the sidewalk." It was such an airy gag from the usually silent man, yet you chuckled and held his hand tighter, the cold overlooked throughout the rest of the walk.

Even watching him doing the most ordinary things is a sight. Whether he's washing dishes, making the bed, or cutting vegetables for the next meal he was cooking for you two, your eyes would always find their way to his deft hands. Rugged palms moving swiftly and gracefully, veins that stem from the back trail upwards to his forearm, and thick fingers with scars so faded with time that you'd have to be very close to see them. You're so in love with him — with his hands. They make you feel safe and secure, warm and loved. Specifically in times when you two are close to each other. Whether it's you resting on his chest as he reads a book while rubbing circles on your back or holding hands with you two walking around the vicinity, it couldn't get any better.

...Well, perhaps now as you're lying on the bed with your back to his chest, succumbing to his touch as one hand cups your cheeks while the other burrows inside your panties — his fingers intruding between your folds and playing with your leaky entrance staining the underwear with your come.

"Ooooh, Kentooo..." You moan to his thick digits in your vulva, scraping your spongey walls that result in high wails. He rubs your cheeks and maneuvers your face to the side so he can lay kisses on your neck, and you melt under his lips with a blissful hum.

"Open your legs a bit more for me, angel." His command is hushed to your ears. You follow his instructions and spread your legs further apart, and he rewards you with another finger added to your chasm. Now both the fore and middle digits slide deep into you, and the brush of his thumb on your clit results in sudden wails. "Good, that's my sweet girl."

His fingers graze your insides expertly, having you writhe on him with how good he's making you feel with just his fingers alone. The speed of his digits increases by the second, and you can feel the wave start rising in your body. Your body jolts with every scrape of his fingertips, pornographic whines fly out your mouth, and your face gets hotter and hotter.

"Haaaah!! Mmnnn...Kento, I'm so close. 'S so close, I'm—Mmmph!?" You don't get to finish that sentence when Nanami stuffs his free fingers into your mouth, your tongue immediately coating the two digits with your saliva.

"Go on, come on me, love." His sweet words were what it took for everything to come crashing down, the fingers in your cunt quicken in pace, and his thumb flicking on your clitoris — causing you to grab onto his forearm. Scratching the clothed limb and heavy pants drawing inward, your cunt clamps around on his fingers as your orgasm comes to pull you in for a euphoric release.

And Nanami lets your body experience the shocks on top of him, laying precious kisses on your temple and cheeks. He slowly removes his digits from your satisfied cunt with a whimper from your puffy lips. "Did so well like always, angel." In your daze, you still share a smile and welcome his lips on yours.

Like you said before — Nanami's hands are your guilty pleasure in more ways than one. And it feels so good to know he reciprocates those desires with mutual love. If such a gorgeous and attentive man can have you under him with just his sheer touch, then so be it.

[hwalovs]

Golden and Glowing (M)

Pairing; Jayce Talis x Reader Word Count; 7.8k Warnings; some (a lot) angst, S M U T T Y SMUT SMUT!, unprotected PiV, put on a dry suit before diving you freaks, some oral (fem receiving) ((i lied its full, fem receiving, diabolical oral)), fingering, dry humping, lots of kissing, overstimulation(?), fabric ripping, Jayce whimpering, Jayce whining, desperation in human form.

Summary; After Jayce comes back, he finds it difficult to face you. Yet, after you meet him in the council room, he can't stop the rush of emotions on seeing your beautiful face, and soft eyes.

A/N; I saw him in the council room in that fuck-ass-fit and KNEW I would be at my keyboard. Also- I've loved Jayce since season one, I saw him and knew he whimpered. i also love his beard and it will NOT stop me from giving him jaw kisses. I will GLADLY kiss against it idGAF!

MINORS DNI!!

THIS IS NOT EDITED! DO NOT REPOST MY WORK!!

The council room was repaired in his absence, even the large doors had been replaced. Though new, it still creaked when you gently shut it. Its latch resonated around the room, and you cursed under your breath, moving into the room with jittering hands and a racing mind. 

Mel was the one to tell you that Jayce was back, and waiting in the council room. You didn’t want to go in there, not after the attack, but you swallowed down your anxiety, smiled and bid her a farewell, and faced the dark wood with golden knobs. 

For a couple months, you thought he would never come back. Almost coming to terms that he was dead. There was a fleeting moment you thought he abandoned you, but that was thrown out. Jayce would never, ever, abandon you. Or anyone, for the matter. He loved too hard, and lost too easily. He was too determined to a fault, and you saw that when he created Hextech. When hardships came, Jayce was the type to take it by the teeth, see it through to the end with full confidence. He excelled in helping people, finding out what was wrong, and making it better. 

Which is what scared you the most when he disappeared. The only way he would truly be gone, is if he was dead. Yet, there was no body. So, you waited. 

You look at everything but him first, stalling. How could you be this scared, it was just Jayce. With gritted teeth, and unsteady breathing, you find him in the center of the room, in the same place his trial was all those years ago. He stood tall back then, taking whatever question the council threw at him with full determination he would win, earn his place back in the lab and with hextech. 

Your mouth is moving before you can stop it, “your hair is longer.”

Jayce stands different, more tense and strained. Dark colors replace the white, red, and gold entourage he was decorated in by the council. Shaggy hair, scarred arms, hunched posture. It was like seeing a different person standing in front of you. But, you supposedly knew this man. 

He slowly turns his body to face you, sharp eyes slowly softening when they meet yours. His shoulders drop, but only a miniscule amount, and his gloved hands itch to feel you. 

“Is that a beard?” you smile, tilting your head, walking further into the room, down one of the steps. He stays put, but there's a moment you can see his body pitch forwards to move closer. It's almost nonexistent, but it was there. The light that spills into the room bathes him in a golden hue, his eyes shaded by his hair. His hammer was different, you note, watching as its multicolored metal reflects the light, a kaleidoscope dancing on the desk behind it. 

“What’s happened to my golden boy? Should the man of progress be seen with such a rugged image?” Your voice cracks, and heat appears behind your eyes, but you still force a teasing smile. Pulling your hands behind your back, you hope that he didn’t see them shake. 

After so long, he was here in front of you. He was looking over you with the desperation of a starved man, his chest slowly beginning to heave. His hammer slides until the metal slams into the ground, the handle slipping from his grasp to slowly fall against the desk. It startled you, watching him move carefully. A predator not wanting to scare his prey. 

You almost forgot how big Jayce really was. All shoulders and chest filling your vision. His waist was smaller, and you used to be able to wrap your arms fully around him at night when it was cold, seeking out his warmth. As you look him over, you can see the tremble in his hands, how his shoulders quake in the deep maroon velvet fabric. 

Before you can even think, he’s moving closer. Not even looking down at the stairs as he skips them all together, stopping inches away from your face. The light is blocked, and he looks ethereal. A golden hue glows from his body line, giving a halo to a broken angel. Tilting his head slightly to look over your features. His honey colored eyes are shining, red rimmed and swimming with emotions flashing by so fast you can barely pick them out.

Sadness, anger, desperation, happiness, it was hard to tell which one was dominating over the other. Sadness, perhaps. Or maybe it was desperation. 

“Are you real?” He sounds more broken than he looks. Voice a whisper in the air between you both and all of a sudden you can feel the tidal wave of emotions that you tried to ignore. The ones you felt when you found out he was gone, that he left you behind, that he didn’t care enough to even tell you where he was going. Your cheeks are suddenly wet, and a hiccup is swallowed when you move and push against him. He takes it, all the punches and shoves you throw against his chest. 

“Yes, you idiot,” you shudder, “I’ve been here while you were doing god knows what!”

He can only frown, gloved hands clenching at his sides while looking down at your shaking form. You refuse to look at him now, tears twinkling like fallen stars from your waterline. Shaky hands rush to wipe them away, before you shove him again.

“Where were you, huh? You left me here, alone! How could you do that to me? After everything we’ve done?”

His stomach twists, and he aches to tell you everything. To tell you how he woke up in a storm after touching the anomaly under the Hexgate, how he saw things in the shapes of people. Scuttling across the distorted grass and up broken buildings. He would tell you how he fell into a ravine, breaking his leg and swallowed by the dark. He would tell you how he survived, how the image of the anomaly haunted- haunts him. He’d tell you all with a straight face, that he climbed floating rocks to the top of the Hexgate, and met the same mage he saw as a child, and what he instructed him to do. 

He would not fail, he’d say

Yet, he wanted to spare you the pain of knowing what could happen to you, to him, to Piltover and Zaun and the entire world. He stood before you, broken and reformed into a man he almost didn’t recognize. You spoke to him like you always did, how he remembered when he would sit in front of that fire, it still had the same cadence as the one in his mind when he was taking apart his hammer to fasten it to his deformed leg. Your instructions clear on what bolts and panels to take off, what he could use as a strap to hold it all together. You reassured him he would be okay, and reprimanded him for being there in the first place. 

Would you still love him, as he is now? He couldn’t hold himself in the same light as the ‘Man of Progress’. What if that’s who you wanted, rather than the broken minded man in front of you. It's what he would think about at night, staring into the storm above as he listened to the water drip into the small, stagnant, puddle beside him. Even when he got back, and stood under the hot water of his first shower in months. All he could do was think of your eyes glaring at him, telling him that he was different, not the same Jayce he disappeared as. 

How could he see you like this?

How could you love him like this? Broken mind and body?

Harshly rubbing your eyes, you sigh and look over him. His hands were shaking, jaw clenching and unclenching as tears finally gathered. A frown was wobbling on his face, everything was threatening to boil over. You could see it, that rope inside him unraveling into a tangle of emotions you knew he couldn’t handle. 

When you reach up to grasp his face, like you did when he was tired, or when he needed you after another failed experiment, look down at you with tired eyes and a small smile. His beard was scratchy, or akin to scruff than anything. You wanted to feel along it all day, but he flinches, moving his head out of your grasp and you feel the cold truth slam into you from behind. Something had happened to your Jayce, something terrible and a small voice inside told you he would never talk about it. 

“Oh, Jayce,” you whisper, arms falling to your sides. Tears spill from his eyes, and he slowly lifts his hands enough to drag his gloves off, trembling. It's a silent cry, droplets falling down his neck to soak into the fabric at his collar. He swallows each sob, each whimper that threatens to spill past his lips. Dropping his gloves to the ground, he softly and slowly grabs your hands, breathing deeply when your skin touches his. 

He was cold, you realize. Trembling fingers sliding between yours with a clumsy vigor, dancing up your palms and sliding around your wrists. He slowly drags your hands up, up and up until they settle onto his cheeks. Immediately, your finger splay across his dark beard. They press into his cheeks, feel how his jaw tenses, and as quickly as he started crying, you join him. 

You’re not a silent crier, you realize. A sob makes its way past your lips and you drag him forwards until he's crashing into you, his arms moving to grip at the fabric of your shirt.  He bends until his forehead is against yours, breathing you in rapidly. He can’t get enough, your perfume swallows him whole and he curses himself for ever forgetting it. 

“I’m sorry-” He sobs, his tears mixing with yours. You almost collapse, hearing him so broken, but you shake your head and pull him closer, your lips just grazing his before he sighs and pulls you in deeper. 

He tasted like heaven. There's a hint of the sweet candies you and Viktor would buy specifically for him, and under all of it, honey. Yet, there's the undertone of the mint from his toothpaste, the coffee he drank this morning. 

The last time you kissed him, he was leaving for the council meeting, trying to strike for peace with Silco and for the petty war between them to be over. He was tired when he left, and Viktor had given you a light kiss to the cheek before they departed, a strained smile on both of their lips as they disappeared behind the lab door. 

The kiss he gives you now starts slowly, remembering what the other felt and tasted like. It's all slow touching and even slower kissing, opening back that door you thought you would have had it close forever, close off what it would feel like to have him like this again. 

Jayce breathes you in deeply, your taste made his stomach clench in anticipation, or what was to come. Surely, you’d understand, right? He needed you, needed to remind himself that he was alive and you were safe with him. 

It devolves, his hands working from your arms to your waist, his head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss. His hands are shaking as he licks along your bottom lip, desperate for entry. 

Giving in easily, you sigh as his arm makes its way around your waist, one of his hands moving to cradle the back of your head while you slide both thumbs under his eyes, subconsciously wiping his tears away. Your tongue twists with his, a fight for dominance he easily loses, allowing you to explore him without restriction., 

He shivers when you bite down on his lip, pulling away to look at you with half-lidded eyes. Pupils blown, he takes a split second to look around the room, before turning back and bending down to lift you from the backs of your thighs. His grip was tight, not allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist like you used to. Yelping, you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders, face nuzzling into his hair while he walks over to the council desk. He sets you down lightly, before grabbing your face to pull you back to him. 

He's desperate now, kissing you like it was his last day on earth, and maybe it was, as long as you were going out with him you didn't care. Love was drawn onto your skin by his lips, silent words that soaked through and wrapped around your heart in a symphony of beauty. There was also the lust that followed, crackling and clawing like a desperate creature you both unintentionally created. As he painted you, you’d paint him beautifully as well. 

You whimper into him, his teeth dragging across your bottom lip as he pulls back, hands gripping your knees while he slowly makes his way down your neck. Gripping onto his velvet shirt, right where the fabric is folded to his elbows, you try and find purchase before his teeth sink into your skin. It was rough, how his teeth threatened to break through. You knew it would bruise quickly, and you almost smiled at the way his tongue quickly followed in apology. 

Lightly, he pulls your knees apart, not forcing, but asking. You oblige quickly, pulling him to step closer while your back arches to accommodate his height. A hand leaves your knee to grasp your neck, pushing his thumb into your pulse point until you tilted your head in obedience. He’s muttering against your skin, words so quiet you couldn’t even what when you tried to. 

“What is it, baby?” You ask, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging softly. He whimpers, pulling from under your knee to drag you closer. Your cunt fits snug against him, and he whimpers again, softly grinding against you. 

He’s still mumbling, you realize, and pull harder against his hair, dragging his face from your neck. Giving him a soft smile, you lean forwards to kiss him. When he jerks his body close, to meet you halfway, you yank on his hair, and he stills. He watches with bated breath and dark eyes as you slowly lean closer, dragging your lips along his neck until it reaches just below his ear. His skin was hot, pulsing under your lips as you pressed one, two, three light kisses against it. 

“I need you to speak clearly, Jayce, can you do that?”

It’s hard to keep yourself together, with him rutting against you like a horny teenager, and his hands gripping your knee and neck in desperation. His eyes clench shut, tilting his head back and against your hand until your fingers splay out in his hair once more. 

“I thought about you- everyday-” he begins, eyes opening to look at you in pain. Not the kind of pain you inflict on someone, but of a pain so deep within his bones it shines through his gaze. 

“I wanted to be with you so bad- please believe me, I would never leave you voluntarily.”

“Oh, baby, I know,” you coo, releasing his hair to thumb against his cheek, slide the pad against his bottom lip. His breathing is erratic, and his hips have stopped. He looked at you as if you had all the answers, and while you don’t right now, you’d lie through your teeth just for him.

“I’m right here, nothing is going to happen to you.”

He shudders, “I thought you’d never want to see me again, that you’d hate me for being gone-”

“You’re here now, Jayce, that's all that matters to me, okay?” 

Nodding, he drags his hands along your skin, until they rested on your waist, fingers twisting and gripping onto your shirt like it was a lifeline. 

“I thought I’d never get to touch you again, to have you like this. You look so pretty right now, honey.”

The words travel straight to your gut, a fire that was burning under your skin the longer he held onto you. 

It's easy to fall back into the routine of what once was, but you realized that; while before, he needed to be kept in line and put in his place, to scold and tease and taunt. Now, the Jayce in your hands needed you to comfort him. He needed you to remind him that he was real, that you were real and not going anywhere. 

“Kiss me, sweet boy.”

He surges forwards, lips crashing against yours while your hands feverishly start unbuttoning his shirt. His bangs tickle your forehead, and he can't stop himself from rutting against you again. He haphazardly undo’s your pants, fingers slipping and after missing a button, he grunts against your lips and grabs the flaps of your pants and yanks them apart, one of the buttons falling to the floor. You laugh, pulling away and smiling up at him. He’s embarrassed, hiding his eyes and pulling you impossibly closer to him by the ripped fabric. 

“I-” he whines as he ruts, “I need you, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, and he furrowed his eyebrows with a nod, “how do you need me?”

Groaning, he drops his head onto your shoulder, fingers itching to dive into your pants. You quickly grab his wrist before he can, nails pressing into his skin in warning. This time, you try a different approach, trying to get him to talk to you. 

“Tell me, Jayce, did you think about me like this?”

“God, yes,” he moans, free arm wrapping around your waist, arching your back. You wrap your arm around his neck for leverage, sighing, “yeah? What about me?”

He shakes his head, a laugh tickling you before he pulls back, “I-” he swallows, “I thought about how you’d cum around my fingers, and on my face-”

“Dirty boy,” you tease, kissing his collar bone. His hips jerk, cock catching along the now open panel of your pants. He hisses, eyes flickering between yours, shining, “I thought about you- you wrapped around me, tight and wet and perfect just for me- you were made for me-”

Letting go of his wrist, you let his hand dive between your legs and into your pants, it's sloppy, the way his hands desperately move to get closer to you, immediately pulling the band of your panties away to sink his fingers into your slick, knocking against your clit once before venturing deeper. Gasping, you grab at the front of his partially open shirt, his tan skin peeking through. His chest heaves as he pulls back up and finds your clit, fingers rough as he circles it. 

“You always sound so- fuck-” his fingers move from your clit to your entrance, rubbing against you once to test the tension before sinking a finger inside of you, mouth dropping at how tight you were, “sound so pretty, when you cum-”

“I never thought I’d hear it again,” he sighs, tilting his head. You smile, finally undoing the rest of his shirt and kissing the large expanse of his chest. He sighs, pulling his finger from your tight hole to find your clit again, pulling its hood back with his palm before teasing the sensitive bud. You shudder, forehead falling against his skin, using his closeness, you suck against his chest, leaving red splotches while his voice wraps around you like a blanket.

“Didn’t stop thinking about you- your voice, your eyes, god baby, I’ve missed you so much,” voice breaking at the end, he nuzzles his face into your neck, forcing yours to move from his chest, your cheek resting against his shoulder. “Even-” he swallows, “even you yelling at me, telling me off and how I annoy you.”

He slowly drags his hand away from your cunt, wetness trailing after until he’s wrapping his lips around his finger. A loud moan rumbling his chest, your cunt clenching. 

“Never thought I’d taste you again,” Wet fingers wrap around your throat, not tight, just enough to drag your lips back to his as your hands fumble to undo his own pants. Humming, you lick into his mouth, tasting yourself. Sweet, yet a familiar tang. He licks against your lips, into your mouth and suckles on your bottom lip. 

“Jay-” you whine, your legs wrapping tightly around him as he punishes you back, your arms frantically moving to support your weight. His tongue licks down the column of your throat, stopping to push up your shirt enough to kiss against your stomach, moving to suck a deep red splotch onto your hip bone, his canines scratching against you. Drool makes its way from the corner of his mouth, and his tongue licks it away. He winces as he drops to one knee, careful of the other. The brace dug into his skin, leaving a bruise in its wake. It was new, a shiny silver metal that contrasted against his black pants. You noticed it, but it didn’t bother you. This was your Jayce, and you love him in any way. 

Pulse erratic, you push down your pants the best you could with his weight on you, and you almost smile when his hands join yours, yanking the fabric down your legs until they reach your shoes. Quickly, he discards them, throwing them behind him before stopping abruptly to look over your soft skin. 

While to you, he was glowing in the sunlight, golden sun painting him in an ethereal light. To him, you looked akin to a god, the sun almost made you sparkle. He could feel his chest swell, his cheeks hot as his trembling fingers grabbed your shins, bringing one close to lay featherlight kisses. Slowly, he works his way up, eyes never closing, never wanting to miss a single one of your beautiful expressions. The way your eyes blink, your lips part when he reaches your inner thigh, how your hands reach to grasp the closest thing to you for support. 

He loves you, unforgivingly, as he bites into the sensitive flesh just before your cunt. It makes your back arch, head falling back as you try to shut your thighs, his hair tickling you, beard scratching against your skin. He grunts, pulling away to lick at the intended mark of his teeth, freezing and holding you open as he gazes at the beauty that is your slick cunt. It shines in the light, beads of it sliding down until it threatens to drop onto the desk below you. He inches forwards, slowly licking against your skin until his tongue parts your folds. 

His whole body shivers at your taste, your warmth, your sweet nectar flooding his senses and he wouldn’t have it any other way. The tip of his tongue catches your clit, and he can feel your thighs twitch. Your hand is in his hair, and your eyes lock on his immediately. He almost cums untouched at the blissful smile you give him. You whimper as his tongue runs along your folds harder this time, stopping to give your clit an open mouthed kiss. It throbs under his lips, and he can feel his hands shake. 

If this was the last time, he would take his time. He would drag this out until he couldn’t, when the sun rises again tomorrow, when someone inevitably walks in. He didn’t care, he had you in his arms again. 

His tongue joins his kiss, sliding to press into you briefly before pulling away to watch the concoction of your slick and his spit slide down. Before it can drip onto the desk, he rushes to lick it away, swallowing it down with a guttural groan you’ve never heard from him. It's lethal, as his hooded eyes flicker over your face before he shuts them completely, diving between your legs and eating you like a man starved. 

It's messy, spit unstopped from dripping while his tongue moves against you. He’s trying to taste all of you, all at once. He’ll lick your clit, and then dip down to tongue into your entrance, feel you clench around him before moving back up to suckle. He can feel it drip down to his beard, soaking the hair, but he did nothing to stop it. 

“Jayce- wait-” Your pleading, a whimper falling past your lips as you grip onto his hair. Your elbow was screaming in pain as it digs into the wood below you. Yet, what mattered to you most was the starved man between your legs. He ignored you completely, wrapping his arms around your thighs to lock you to him. He quickly shakes his head, tongue calculated as it hones in on a specific pattern on your clit. It feels like heaven and hell all at once. Rapidly, your release is building. It starts as a tickle in your gut, and then festers into a burn. Your muscles start to lock and shake, your lungs seize and before you realize you’re not breathing, he slides a quick hand across your tummy, tapping quickly, bringing you back. You gulp down air, your hips trying to hump into his mouth. 

“Please- slow down-” he only groans in response, pulling away and taking a deep breath before going back down. He goes back to flatten his tongue against you, slowly dragging it up before taking your clit between his lips, sucking hard.

Your back arches, thighs shaking and you moan. It almost hurt, how hard he was sucking, his tongue flicking against the bud until he released you and continued circling. You're pulsing beneath him, tears gathering as you drag him closer by the hair. His beard was scratching the sin of your thighs, a welcoming burn. 

His fingers soon join his mouth, tips teasing against your entrance before he’s sinking two into you. He doesn’t stop until knuckle deep, twisting his hand palm up and curling his fingers while dragging them out. Your hips trying to get closer, or further away, you didn’t know. The pleasure was immense, heart racing as you let go of his hair to grab the edge of the desk, thighs trying to shut around his head. 

He pulls away just enough to look up at you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes pathetic. He’s drunk off your taste, of how wet and tight you are around his fingers. He’s begging you, resting his head against your thigh as his tongue circles your clit. 

“Just like that-” you whimper, trying to gulp down enough air, yet still breathless as he nods so obediently. His eyes brighten, watching how your mouth drops open, body tensing. Yet, he knew it wasn’t enough. You were on the brink, teetering on a cliff you didn’t know you’d survive the fall of. 

Jayce didn’t give you time to prepare, he moved his fingers faster, curling them against your sweet spot while surging forwards with his mouth to suck hard onto your clit, moaning around you. 

Your release hits unexpectedly, a dam breaking in your gut and you slap a hand onto your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. Your slick and cum cover him, a flood of your release dripping down his hand. Your vision is white, sobbing into your palm as your hips shake against his grip. It's electrifying, the warmth that spreads like wildfire through your veins. You didn’t know if you wanted him to stop, or keep going. Yet, he didn’t give you a choice on that either. 

He moves his hand faster, tongue flicking against your clit rapidly. It makes your whole body freeze, not knowing what to do. You just came, how could you be so rapidly gearing up to cum again?

While his fingers torment your sweet spot, he pulls back for air, his arm fully enclosing your thigh so his thumb could reach, circling hard and fast. He watches you with wide, desperate eyes. Breathing deeply, licking his cum slicked lips, “One more- please,” he whimpers. 

He had to be lying, right? He was so unforgiving with you, your wetness echoing around the room. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, hyperventilating as you felt the build up once more, yet this time, it was faster. Your previous orgasm hadn’t even faded before this one started, It was building into a monsoon of pleasure. It made your ears ring, your eyes shut tightly and whether you liked it or not, you were going to cum again. 

“Jayce!-”

“Oh my, god-”

Your ears start to ring, thighs tremble, and Jayce’s mouth is back on you. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure that greets you on the other side. All you can do is face it head on and your orgasm washes over you once more. It was so much more intense than the last one, you swore your legs went numb. 

It could’ve been minutes, or seconds, but Jayce’s mouth is back on yours, tongue pushing past your lips and you can taste your own cum. It's filthy, his wet beard against your skin as he pulls you so close your hips hang off the side of the desk. Somehow, he had gotten his pants pushed down to his knees. His hands are desperate as he maneuvers your shaking legs around his hips, shirt pulled up to show the expanse of his stomach. 

His cock was throbbing, thick and long with its tip an angry shade of deep red. Pearly pre was leaking down the side, shining against the light as he moves to rub his cockhead against your slick folds. Whimpering, you shudder, legs tightening around his waist as he pushes the tip into you. 

“Oh god, I’m not gonna last long-” voice cracking, his hand splaying against the wood to your side, his other looping under your hips to hold you up. Swallowing against a dry throat, you grab onto his forearms, his body pausing. 

“My sweet boy,” you whimper, “you need it that bad?”

You always spoke at the most inconvenient times, he thinks. His hips jerk forwards, sinking deeper into you with a whine, shivering at how tight and warm you are. You were always warm, always welcoming him with open arms and a loving smile. He missed you so much, craving for this warmth while next to the fire he made. This is the warmth he wanted when he was shivering, thinking of nothing but you when he was climbing that damn ravine. 

He doesn’t think, only slides his hips forwards until his pelvis meets yours, clit throbbing against his skin. He almost reaches down to thumb against it, but decides not to when he feels your walls clench around him like a lifeline. His moan travels through the room, across your skin and wraps around you like a blanket. 

“I do,” he says, almost apologetically. Shaky hand leaves the desk to rub the skin of your tummy, before slowly pulling out until just the tip remains, and thrusting back in. The stretch is borderline painful, causing you to whimper. His gaze flickers back up to you, a frown twitching his lips. 

“Don't stop,” you whisper, hips pitching upwards, his hand forcing you back down, “keep going, baby.”

Nodding, he breathes deeply before continuing, his hips moving at a continuous rhythm. 

Jayce was always careful with you, soft touches and worried eyes always a staple when his cock is inside you. But now, his hand that rests on your tummy is slowly pressing into you. It makes you tighter around him, your cum from before forming a white ring at the base of his cock. He moans at the sight, tilting his head. You would always be perfect for him, cunt sucking him back in when he tries to pull out. Your ankles hook together behind his back, and he closes his eyes to bask in the pleasure while listening to you whimper and moan beneath him. 

You watch him intently, feeling his fingers flex against your skin and you try to keep up. His hips wont stop accelerating, skin slapping against skin as his head falls against his chest, eyes opening into slits as he watches his cock disappear into you. 

“So good,” he slurs, his shoulders tense as his body slowly pitches forwards until his forehead rests against your chest. With shaking fingers, you move to undo your shirt. Your breasts come free and Jayce immediately starts to suckle on the skin between them, your head thumping against wood, back arching into his mouth. Your nipples harden into buds when the cool air hits them, Jayce groaning before taking one into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it before taking it lightly between his teeth, pulling away with it, and then letting go. 

“You’re doing- fuck,” you curse, eyebrows furrowed, “You’re doing so good, sweet boy-”

Nodding, his hips falter as he speeds up his pace, your body jerking up the desk until he growls, grabbing your waist to drag you back. Your hands grab onto his arms, nails threatening to dig into his skin, but you hold back. He’s already gone through so much pain, why inflict it further?

His hips dont stop, though, and you gasp, “wait-”

“I-” he gasps, fingers gripping onto the tops of your thighs, shaking his head as he roughly starts abusing your cunt. The pleasure was almost painful, burning under your skin until you felt it within your bones. “I’m sorry-” He sobs, a tear falling from his eye. Eyes wide, you watch him with parted lips. He was frantic, hands shaking as he kept thrusting erratically. There was no rhythm, just a desperate race to the finish line. 

“Jayce-” you whimper, hand pressing against his lower stomach, trying to slow him down but he grabs your wrist, pulling it away. He bring s it up to his mouth, kissing your skin before dragging it to rest above your head, his fingers intertwined with yours. He could feel your cum dripping from his balls, no doubt pooling on the floor between his feet. There's tears gathering in your eyes, that familiar burn flaring in your gut once more. You couldn’t cum again, not after the torment he put you through with his mouth. 

“I need you,” he sobs again, looking at you with sparkling eyes and parted, gasping lips, “need you so bad, sweetheart.”

It burns so good, that fire beneath your skin, and you realize that if he keeps going at this pace, you won't have an option but to cum again. Jayce, though, didn’t seem to care. It almost scared you, but his grip on your hand was shaking, and his eyes kept clenching shut with pleasure.

He was pushing through the sting of his brace digging into his leg, of the burn in his thighs. He was rapidly chasing that high he wanted so desperately, forgoing anything else but himself. Jayce was a giver, always making sure you felt good before ever thinking about himself. Yet, now, when your hot, wet, throbbing cunt was wrapped so nicely around his cock, all he could think about was himself. 

“Please, please, please,” he begs, words slurring together as he roughly takes what he wants, your tears finally fall from your eyes, and he leans down to kiss them away, kissing down your cheeks until your lips are on his again. He moans against them, biting your lip until you open your mouth to let his tongue in. Yet, this time, he waits. He waits until you move your own, trying to lick into his mouth but he stops you when he wraps his lips around your tongue, sucking desperately onto it. Moaning, you grab his hair, pulling him closer. His chest rests against yours, hot skin against skin, and it forces his pelvis to grind onto your clit. You’re sweating, beads rolling down your back while his skin slides easily along yours. A delicious burn festers, sinking deep into your bones and up your spine until you have to choose but to whimper and pull away from him. Walls fluttering, Jayce bites the skin of your neck, licking against the salty sweat, not slowing down in the slightest until you're pushing your hips up against his desperately and moaning so loudly he wonders for a split second if the people outside could hear you. He didn’t care, not when you clung to him while your pussy was clenching his cock like he was a lifeline. 

He feels the flood of your wetness around him, how it leaks down his cock and onto his thighs, but he didn’t care. Pulling away from your neck, he pushes himself up enough for leverage to keep thrusting, trying to find momentum to keep going and find his own unraveling. Your fingers find his cheek, and his eyes find yours again. 

You looked beautiful, golden and glowing while you stared up at him with sparkling eyes and bitten lips. His eyes move down your body, finding the deep red splotches that would no doubt bruise in the morning, to your beautiful chest that bounces every time his pelvis meets yours, to the way he was disappearing inside you. 

Pinpricks behind his eyes, Jayce paws at you, trying to find purchase when he can feel that pleasure building in his stomach. Your voice is in his ears, comforting him while he rapidly starts to reach his peak. His thigh shakes, stomach clenching, and he desperately hangs onto you. 

“(Y/n)-” his voice doesn’t sound like his own, a broken cry that reaches your ears before he sobs, hands grabbing your thighs to wrap them higher on his hips, letting him hit deeper inside you. He was faltering, you realize, his hips stuttering as they met you and in a desperate attempt to help him, you pulled him in each time with your legs. They were burning, shaking under the pleasure of your orgasms, but Jayce needed you, and you would stop at nothing to help him, even if it meant ignoring the spiked pains that came knocking at your door. 

You’ve felt overstimulation, but never to this extent. Jayce didn’t give you any room to breathe, thrusting into you so desperately you couldn’t discern what was pain and what was pleasure. All you knew was Jayce. His beautiful eyes that looked at you like you hung the stars, like you were all that mattered, that would get him to the end. Drool dripped from his lips, and he made no attempt to lick it away, it mixed with his beard. You try to pull yourself together, to formulate words from the thick fog that rested behind your eyes. He didn’t look any better, you realize with a smile, that he was so deep within himself it would take a while before he managed to crawl back out. It was only you that flooded his senses. He needed you to guide him, to help him reach this peak he couldn’t seem to find all on his own. 

“Such a good boy, aren’t you?” You groan, voice rough, watching as his eyes ignite with lightning, your voice a beacon. He nods, eyes squinting through the pain until he moans, nails digging into your skin, “my good boy?”

He whimpers, tears and spit dripping from his eyes and lips, his body pitches, but he catches himself on the desk. His hair falls into his eyes, and you can finally reach him. Trembling hands cradle his face, wiping away the tears before pulling him closer, licking from just below his bottom lip, to the inside of his mouth and against his own awaiting tongue, swallowing the drool before kissing him gently. When you pull away, he’s gasping, eyes shut tightly while his shoulders tense, he’s going to cum. Teetering on that edge, but a small part of him wishes that it didn’t. He wanted to stay like this for longer, wanted to feel your warmth and your touch and to be reminded that he was home. He was safe with you, no pain or misery could reach him as long as he was in your arms-

“Gonna fill me up, puppy?”

He’s right there, he can feel it threatening to snap. That blissful pleasure that’ll wrap around his bones, make his muscles spasm, make his head swim until he can no longer think of anything at all but your voice in his ears and the sight of you beneath him. There's a ringing, and then his hearing stars muffling until all that surrounds him is the sound of his breathing.  

“Oh god,” he whines, mouth dropping open as he dumbly nods against your hand blinded by his own pleasure as his thrusts stutter and he can finally feel that swell in his stomach burst, his cock throbbing as he fills you up with his cum. You moan softly, feeling him jolt and throb. Grip tight, he was whining and sobbing through it, shoulders twitching. His thighs were shaking, threatening to give out from under him if it wasn’t for his hands and leg brace giving him some semblance of support. 

“Such a good boy,” you whisper, kissing along his jaw and neck as he trembles. A bead of sweat ran down his temple, stopped by your finger and you pulled back with a smile from his neck to push back his damp hair. Half-lidded eyes stare back at you, and you keep your legs tight around his waist while he slowly drops against you, his weight settling onto your body. You heave, hands gripping his trembling shoulders and with a smile you move him until his face is resting against your neck. 

Breathing heavily, you can feel him slowly softening inside you, but you make no effort in moving. Your body is buzzing, fueled by the afterglow of pleasure and while you slowly thread your fingers through his hair, Jayce is gripping onto you tightly. 

Your fingers scratch against his head, and his body shivers beneath your touch. Slowly, he comes back to reality, opening his honey-colored eyes to look at you in bliss. Not all of his weight was on you, legs still somewhat steady enough. And as he pushes himself up onto his elbows, his fingers move to brush over your cheeks, just under yours eyes. The pads barely touch your lashes, and you smile as he leans down to kiss each cheek, and then your nose, and then your lips. It’s soft, tentative and brief before pulling away. He swallows, wetting his dry throat, and finally speaks after the minutes of silence. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sigh, smiling brightly, and Jayce can feel that desperation tug at him from the pit of his stomach. He almost died, he almost left you alone in a world that only he seemed to be able to fix. 

Slowly, he pushes himself up, watching you wince as he slowly pulls out. A mixture of his and your cum seep from you, spilling onto the desk. He raises an eyebrow, watching it leak from you and after you snap your fingers, he jumps back to reality once more. Pushing yourself up to sit, you look around the floor before spotting your pants, he follows your gaze, and on shaky legs and reaches down to grab them. First, you grab the underwear from the pile, trying to clean up the mess you both made, before sliding your legs into the fabric and pulling them up until you couldn't. He fixes his pants in the process, ignoring the wetness that clings to his skin. He quickly buttons them back, breathing deeply before looking back to you. 

Reaching a hand out, you ask Jayce for your help silently, he smiles softly, holding onto your hand while you drop down from the desk, legs almost giving out. Laughing, you both reach down to pull your pants up, forgoing your panties that now sat soiled on the desk. Finally releasing his hand, you lean against the desk and start putting yourself back together. While you button your shirt, he buttons his. When you button your pants, you make a show of trying to hook fabric onto a non-existent button, playfully glaring at him, while he buttons his. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers when your laugh fills the room once more.

“You’re buying me new ones,” you scold, pointing a finger at him before brushing down his clothes. Trying to make him presentable to the public once more. His hair is brushed away from his forehead, and when it falls back into place for the third time, you give up with a huff. Stepping back to look him over. His face was flushed, and with burning cheeks you reached out to wipe away the remains of you clinging to his beard. Smiling under your touch, he catches your hand before it falls back to your side, a sad look in his eyes as his thumb brushes over your knuckles. Your other hand joins it, thumb brushing across his wrist and your eyebrows furrow, finally noticing that his cuff is gone, replaced by a webbed design that reflects the unique stone. 

“What happened to you, Jayce?”

He doesn't know what to say, letting your finger brush over the now smooth expanse of skin. 

“I wanted to come back sooner, but I-” his voice pitches, cracking as he feels that heat behind his eyes again. You shush him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. 

Jayce was no stranger to the feeling of dying. He almost experienced it when he was a boy, trudging through the snow with his mother. He almost experienced it when he was bringing parts back from Zaun, his lab locked and an explosion knocking him against the wall. He felt it when the explosion threw him from his chair in this very council room, when he fell into a deep ravine, breaking his leg and struggling to survive for weeks. 

It was after falling into a ravine, breaking his leg, struggling to survive for weeks that he realized how precious this life was. While he was trying so desperately to advance Hextech, to bring an ease to sorrow for other people, he was ignoring the fact that he was alive and breathing. He had you, living and breathing in front of him, and no longer did he want to take that for granted. He wanted you to live the rest of your life with him, safe from the threat he managed to create. 

He wouldn’t fail.

[ixtaek]

Throwing my Dark World form headcanons in the ring:

Hyrule: A rat. He’s a survivor, adaptable, can be soft and cute or rugged and feral, plus he’s still kinda on scale with Legend

Time: As much as I want him to be a monkey (like the ones from Majora’s Mask!) I feel like the gold wolf is effectively canon soooo can go either way. The monkey reflects his adventures, is playful and dexterous and how he looks out for his little troupe (that IS his circus and those ARE his monkeys), but the wolf ties him to Twilight. So yeah.

Legend: Sorry dude you’re a bunny and you’re adorable. (I wish you could be a hedgehog. But canon.)

Twilight: Sorry dude you’re a wolf and you’re also adorable.

Wind: I will die on the hill of Wind being a seagull. And also wanting so bad to fly that he has to basically be restrained (mostly by Sky) lest he try to dive-bomb monsters.

Four: A beetle! A shiny one with a multi-colored shell that reflects the four colors. Added bonus if Four is one type of beetle and the Colors are all slightly different ones (Red as a firefly y’all. Are you seeing the vision??)

Warriors: Warhorse all the way. Twilight is SO jealous. They all kinda are. In honor of something that actually happened to me with my BotW horse, he can, will, and HAS chased and trampled a Yiga trying to get the jump on the others.

Sky: Canadian Goose. A good flyer but also can be cute and cuddly or TERRIFYING depending on the mood. It’s a beautiful day and you are a sleepy godslayer—

Wild: A stag. I have a special love for the deer in BotW and rode them often because it was more fun than walking. Wild’s horns would be broken on the side with the scars.

[lovemydarkestsecrets-blog]

Future love, Past memories

Inspired by this photo:

“So, in your timeline,” Sam began hesitantly, turning away from the book in front of him to glance at his much older brother. The years had not been kind to Dean—his face was rugged and worn, with lines etched deep from countless battles and heartaches. Yet, there was something about his ruggedness that made Sam’s heart skip a beat, something raw and undeniably captivating. “what am I like?”

Dean smiled softly, memories flooding back. "You’re incredible, Sammy. You're strong and brave, but more than that, you’re kind. You always put others first, even when it hurts you. You’ve got this heart that just... shines, you know? You’re the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Sam's breath caught, his heart pounding at the depth of Dean's words. He looked at Dean, really looked at him—the greying hair, the scars, the weariness in his eyes. And in that moment, Sam saw beyond the rugged exterior to the man who had always been his protector, his constant. There was something in the way Dean looked at him, something he had never allowed himself to see before. It was overwhelming, confusing, and yet... it felt right.

"Dean," Sam said quietly, his voice trembling slightly, "What's our relationship like?"

Dean paused for a moment, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face before he smiled softly. "We've never been closer. We're... partners, in every sense of the word. We hunt together, we take care of each other, and... we love each other. It's not always easy, but it's real. It's the best thing in my life."

Sam's breath caught again, this time at the implication of Dean's words. He tried to process it all—the idea of a deeper, more intimate connection with his brother in the future. It felt overwhelming but also strangely comforting. He and Dean would end up together? This beautiful man would be his?

"Do you have a photo of older me?" Sam asked, his curiosity in full force. If Dean looked like this, what would he look like?

Dean bit the inside of his lip before he nodded. "Yeah, actually, I have a lot of photos." He pulled out his wallet and carefully extracted a worn Polaroid. He handed it to Sam with a bittersweet smile.

Sam took the photo and studied it intently. It was a picture of them during their first Christmas at the bunker. Both of them wore Santa hats—Dean's slightly askew, his expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. Sam, on the other hand, was beaming, his smile wide and genuine, a twinkle in his eye that spoke of a rare moment of pure joy. The background showed a simple but warmly decorated room, with a small Christmas tree adorned with a mix of traditional ornaments and a few quirky ones that were clearly picked out by Sam. Dean's arm was around Sam's shoulders, pulling him close, and there was an undeniable warmth and affection radiating from both of them.

"You never gave up on me," Dean whispered, staring at the photo of the man he loved the most. The memory of that Christmas flooded back—how Sam had insisted on celebrating despite everything, how he had managed to make Dean laugh and relax, even if just for a little while. "You always found a way to bring light into my life, no matter how dark things got. I miss you so much, Sammy. Every moment without you feels like a piece of me is missing."

Sam looked up from the photo, his heart aching at the raw emotion in Dean's voice. He could see the longing in Dean's eyes, the deep, unyielding love he held for his future self. It was overwhelming to realize just how much they meant to each other.

Without thinking, Sam leaned in and pressed his lips to Dean's. The kiss was tender, filled with all the unspoken emotions that had been building up inside them. Dean's heart ached with longing and love, knowing that this wasn't his Sam, but feeling the connection all the same. He savored the moment, feeling the softness of Sam's lips, the warmth of his touch, the innocence that his own timeline's battles had stripped away.

When they finally pulled apart, Dean rested his forehead against Sam’s, closing his eyes to hold onto the fleeting moment. “What was that for?”

Sam looked up into his brother’s big, caring eyes. His protecter. Now, and forever. “Future me would have wanted you to have that.”

[heavenlytouches]

You comented on my Na'vi post long ago saying about writing something A vatar themed. Can you do Tsu tey female reader? Thanksss xx

Hello sweetie! Whoopsie, I kinda forgot TwT but no worries, I'm sure I can whip up something about our grumpy blue dude! Thank you so so much for reminding me babes!

El <3

Tsu'tey- the heart of Pandora

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝

FEM  reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- none

NA'VI! x SCIENTIST!reader

(all Na'vi language I used will be listed and translated) :)

grumpy boy <3

Tsu'tey

(I love Na'vi collages sm)

You adjusted your exo-pack, peering through it into the iridescent landscape of Pandora. Bioluminescent plants stretch towards the colorful sky as shadows flicker at the edge of your peripheral vision. You love this world- the vibrant flora, the majestic fauna, and most of all- the thrill of exploration.

As a scientist, every element holds secrets waiting to be discovered, but there's one thing you find particulary intriguing- a certain Na'vi warrior named Tsu'tey.

He's unmatched in both strength and ferocity, a protector of his people. You've seen him from a safe distance of your lab- his towering frame outlined against the glowing trees, his presence both commanding and intimidating.

To you, he often seems grumpy and cold, glancing at your kind with an air of disdain as if you're more an annoying insect than a person. Still, there's something about his rugged demeanor that tugs at your heart- something that hints at uncharted depths beneath that icy exterior.

Your days are typically filled with research, colleting samples of flora for analysis and documenting your findings.

However, you find that every time Tsu'tey wanders into your workspace- hands on his navy hips, brow furrowed- you can't help but feel your pulse quicken.

Perhaps he's the most beautiful Omaticayan, the most beautiful sight on Pandora. Maybe, just maybe you wished he could see you differently too.

One late afternoon under the obsidian sky, you take a deep breath. Your exo-pack making wonders, letting you breathe while also giving you the ability to look around yourself. Tsu'tey was sitting near you under the tree, his hands moving restlessly- sharpening his arrows one by one.

"Tsu'tey"

You call, your voice slightly wavering. He turns to you, his brow arching in curiosity. His yellow eyes were staring at you, his blue ears flat against his skull.

"Would you mind helping me gather some flowers over by floating rocks?"

Tsu'tey got up and placed his arrow on the ground. He looked at you curiously, his blue tail whiping behind his back. You tried not to stare at the tall alien as he moved closer, many decorations around his neck swinging as he walked.

"I need them for my research on bioluminescence."

You explained, looking at his form- silently peering at you. His body was huge, tall and blue, streaked with navy marks and glowing white freckles. He had some scars from past battles.

His expression remains one of stoic indifference, but after an agonizing pause, he nods briskly. It's not the warmth you hoped for but it's the start.

"Get up, tawtute." (sky person)

He says, not even looking at you. You sprang to your feet, following the tall alien who was already vanishing near the purple bushes.

Together, you navigate the treacherous paths as he leads the way, his strength evident in the way he swings past various obstacles.

"You tawtutes... always demanding, always exploring." (sky people)

He muttered to himself. You were walking beside the tall Na'vi, trying to keep up with his steps.

As you crouch to collect specimens, Tsu'tey watches, keenly aware, as if guarding your safety. The flowers you gather in your hands, and for a fleeting moment, it almost feels like you share something more-a silent connection. That's until he notices which flowers you picked. He gently smacks your hands before you bring the flowers to your nose.

"Kä neto! Poison. Don't touch everything." (get away)

Tsu'tey's hand pulls yours as he continues walking. You could feel your legs treble, he was pulling you by your hand. His big blue palm covered yours completely. Your delusions eating you up, why did he sound protective? This was a start of something new.

Days turn into weeks, and the simple outings become the highlight of your research. Tsu'tey shows up more often than other of his kind, grumbling under his breath- though you suspect it's his awkward attempt to mask the fact that he's beginning to enjoy these little excursions.

He fetches you tools you need and helps to transport your findings. At first, he does so begrudgingly, but you notice a shift in how he examines you while you're lost in your work, a flicker of curiosity dancing in his golden eyes.

One evening, after a long day of sampling you ask-

"Tsu'tey, have you ever gone scavenging under the green flame trees?"

His eyes flicker to yours, looking puzzled and something else. You could see something in his gaze, maybe awkwardness or sadness..?

"Dr. Grace said the luminescent organisms are breathtaking at night."

He grunts, sounding slightly annoyed but intrigued.

"I do not need permission to explore, but I do find that interesting."

Tsu'tey sounded different, something soft creeped in his voice as he bent down to your level, your faces an inch away.

"But if you wish to see them, I will take you."

The tall alien replied, and a small, smug smile curls on his lips. You stood up, looking at Tsu'tey and nodding. His sharp teeth gleaming on moonlight.

The night soon wraps Pandora in it's starry embrace, and the verdant glow of the trees beckons. Tsu'tey leads the way, his imposing figure gliding through the shadows as you scramble to keep up. The world transforms under the luminescent twinkling of the flora, each step revealing a dazzling interplay of folors that seem to pulse with life.

"I know this place well."

He says, leading you to a small clearing flooded with silvery light.

"It is where my people come to connect with spirits of Eywa." (Na'vi goddes)

He gestures dramatically to the surroundings, almost challenging you to admire it.

"It's beautiful.. Grace was right"

You breathe, feeling the essence of the world wash over you. But you can't help but steal glances at him. In these moments, the walls he built around himself begin to crack.

Your soft admiring tone triggers something in him, and he shifts, the glint of vulnerability shining through the layers of bravado.

"Beauty can easily be forgotten, especially by those who do not understand."

There's a weight in his words, laden with an unspoken history.

Before you can respond, a rustle disturbs the tranquility and a glowing creature skims past- the kind you've long wanted to catalog. Excitedly, you chase after it, heart racing. Tsu'tey watches, amusement replacing annoyance as he leans against a tree, arms crossed.

"Why do you chase it skxawng?" (moron-fem)

He calls out but you don't have time to formulate an answer. The creature flits beyond your reach, deeper into the woods, it's light flickering like a whisper luring you forward.

"Tsu'tey??!"

You call, your voice echoing in the stillness. The thrill morphs into worry, and shadows loom larger.

Then, like a guardian spirit, Tsu'tey appears out of the shadows, his expression serious. Without hesitation, he takes your hand and the contact sends another jolt through you. He guides you back, grip firm and gentle.

"I told you NOT to wander too far."

He murmurs as you regain the clearing.

"The woods can be deceivng."

"I'm.."

You stutter, still in awe of the strength surging between you.

"I'm sorry, I got carried away."

His eyes soften, revealing glimpse of feeling long buried.

"You are brave, but bravery without caution can lead to danger."

He offers, his tone gruff yet edged with an underlying warmth.

As you both sit among the glowing flora, something shifts in the air around you. Silence drapes over the night, but it feels different- not uncomfortable, but laden with anticipation. There is a flicker of understanding, a known glance that spirals between you, and in that moment, you recognize that maybe, just maybe this grumpy warrior is beginning to see you not only as a scientist but as someone worth knowing.

The night deepens, and with every shared moment- every stolen glance where your gazes connect- you realise a transformative journey has begun, one that could unravel more than friendship beneath the luminous skies of Pandora.

"Will you join me for more scavenging yawntutsyìp?" (dear one)

He finally asks, a hint of smirk betraying his gruff demeanor.

A smile spreads across your face, hope blossoming within.

"Every adventure is better with you, Tsu'tey."

As you sit side by side, an unspoken promise hangs in the air- this was only the beginning of something profound in the heart of Pandora, where the colors glowed not only in the landscape but also in the growing connection between you two.

PHEW! This was a long one! Also I hope y'all liked this one :D

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much

( @marlenalmar tagged you as I promised, enjoy reading ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ )

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[roseghoul26]

Chapter 9: ...And Now I'm Covered In You

Synopsis: A fic based off the song “ivy” by Taylor Swift. After a startling introduction to the man, Arthur Morgan became the most important part of your life. Married at a young age to an older, wealthy man to help your family, you were trapped in a loveless marriage, your only sense of escape with the rugged cowboy. Will you be able to keep your affair hidden, or will your husband find out, and destroy the last thing that made you happy? Tags: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Strangers To Lovers, Infidelity, Fem!Reader, She/Her Pronouns Used For Reader, Period Typical Misogyny, Emotional Manipulative Relationship (not with Arthur), Mostly Follows Timeline of Game, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, First Kiss, Arthur Is Bad At Emotions, Confessions, First Time Together, Cunnilingus, Missionary, Doggy Style, Handjobs, Mirrors, Tags Updated Per Chapter Author's Note: lots of dialogue because i can’t make them stfu :) also smut in the first half, in case you don’t want to read it Taglist: @lokiofasgard12 @ultraporcelainpig @that-one-beannnn @morethantheycansay @nn-hh192 Chapter List

To say you were surprised when you woke up with your face buried in the chest of Arthur Morgan would be an understatement.

When you woke, the realization made you gasp, almost immediately regretting it when Arthur began to stir. Luckily your outburst had been quiet enough that he fell right back asleep, his arms pulling you closer. 

The events of the night, and morning, came back to you then. Flashes passed through your mind; the way his hands had felt, the way his lips had covered your body, the way he stretched you so deliciously. It was all a blur, ending sometime in the early morning. You knew because you heard the birds singing as you fell asleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms. 

The aches in your body made sense, then, and why you felt like you hadn’t slept a minute. Every muscle felt like it had been pushed to the maximum, and if you were able to move you were certain it would hurt. But you were stuck, unable to get out of the embrace Arthur held you in. Even his legs had you in a lock, tangled with yours underneath the sheets. You were stuck. 

You were just able to look up at him with weary eyes. Sunlight illuminated him, and you could see details about him that you hadn’t been able to before. His eyelashes were quite long, resting on his cheeks as he slept. You noticed some beauty marks that dotted his face, even lighter than the few that you knew of, and you swore you even saw some freckles. 

There were also some light scars that had faded over time. One stretched across his nose bridge, no doubt from the injury that made it crooked in the first place. Another nicked his eyebrow, barely messing with the hair there, and you’d have never seen it if you weren’t this close. In his beard, you were just able to see the scar tissue there. You’d always assumed that the small patch there just never grew hair, but you now knew that it was a scar. 

You then examined the features that you knew so well, the ones you’d come to love dearly. His soft hair, mused and ruffled from hours of your hands in it. The arch of his brow, the creases of his eyes, the slope of his crooked nose. His lips, so plush and soft, the ones that had been all over you. You couldn’t help yourself as you stretched, barely able to brush his lips with your own. 

“I was wonderin’ when you’d do that.”

Arthur’s voice made you jump out of your skin, your aforementioned weariness dissipating as adrenaline kicked in. “Arthur,” you gasped out, unable to hide a small smile. “How long have you been awake for?”

“Long enough to know you’ve been starin’ at me.” His voice was gravely with sleep, even more rougher than normal. It made you shiver. 

“How could I not?” You sighed, staring at him with obvious adoration. 

A dusting of pink colored his cheeks, smiling broadly at you. “How you can stand to even look at this mug is beyond me. And to enjoy lookin’ at it?” He shook his head, and you felt one of his arms unwrap from around you. You melted when he rested his now free hand on your cheek, fingers weaving into your hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

Before you could argue that he did indeed deserve you, he was pulling you in, kissing you properly. It was short, but it conveyed something that made your heart thud rapidly. His hand remained on your cheek even when he pulled away, thumb caressing the skin slowly. Now that you weren’t so startled, you felt tired once again, and the soft way he was holding you certainly wasn’t helping, and neither was the heat from his body. 

You must’ve yawned, because Arthur was chuckling gently with a fond look on his face. “Few more minutes?” He asked, and you nodded. He pressed a final kiss to the top of your head, making you relax even more, before returning his arm to where it had been a few moments prior. “A few more minutes, then.”

It didn’t take long for you to fall back into a content slumber.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The two of you definitely slept in longer than a few minutes.

You weren’t sure how long exactly, but you knew a significant chunk of time had passed. 

It was hunger that woke you now. Your stomach grumbled and twisted, and you tried to ignore it, shuffling deeper into the mattress.

But it wasn’t the hunger pangs that made you jolt upright. It was the lack of Arthur’s body next to yours, no longer holding you. 

Setting a hand to where he had been, you were weirdly relieved when you found it to still be warm, and you heard the sound of running water from the ensuite bathroom. 

Now sitting upright, you were now regretting getting up so quickly, your muscles complaining. Rubbing at your neck, you were surprised to find that it was more tender than anticipated, but only in certain spots. In fact, as you rubbed at the weary muscles, you found more spots like that: along your breasts, in between your thighs, across your stomach. There weren’t a lot, but it was enough to be a tad bit alarming.

Pulling off the sheet that covered it, you couldn’t help the small gasp that left you as you saw the various marks peppering your body. There weren’t even more than ten, not including the ones you now presumed to be on your neck. The sight made you reel, enjoying it far more than you thought you would. 

After a bit of pain, you managed to get out of bed, but standing was a whole different story. Your knees practically gave out when you took the first step, and you had to hold onto the bed to support. You were grateful that Arthur was currently in the bathroom, unable to see what he’d done to you.

It took longer than it should’ve, but you eventually made your way to the vanity and mirror tucked into the corner of the room. You never used this one, opting for the one in the bathroom or closet, but you highly doubt you’d be able to make it to the closet. And the other one was preoccupied, and you highly doubt that Arthur would mind if you barged in, but you still wanted to give him privacy.

You gasped again when you saw your reflection, but you’d be a liar if you said the sight wasn’t erotic. Your neck had seen the worst of it, darkened hickeys lining both sides, and you ran a tentative finger over them, which made you fight back a small hiss of pain. 

You heard the sound of the bathroom door opening, and when you turned your head you were met with the glorious sight that was a completely bare Arthur. He hadn’t caught your eye yet, running his hands through his hair, smoothing it out as best he could. When he realized the bed was empty, though, he looked around, and then his eyes finally fell to where you were standing. 

A series of emotions passed over his face as he regarded you; surprise, appreciation, then thinly veiled desire. You couldn’t look away as he began to saunter over, a playful smirk on his face, and you focused hard on keeping your gaze at an appropriate level. Arthur seemed to have no qualms with checking you out, his eyes flicking over every part of you, making you feel warm. 

“Good morning, Arthur.” Your voice didn’t like that you tried to talk louder than a whisper, and it sounded scratchy and airy. 

“Good afternoon, darlin’.” When he finally reached you, he stood behind you, arms wrapping around your body and pulling you into him. His head rested on your shoulder, the stubble of his beard pressing into your skin. After making sure any hair was out of the way, you felt as he pressed a gentle kiss against your neck, and you felt yourself go completely lax in his arms.

He met your eyes in the mirror as he held you, rocking your body slightly. “Gorgeous,” you heard him murmur, and you tore your gaze away, your cheeks burning. “None of that, now,” he laughed lightly, drawing your attention back to him. “There you are.”

He was staring at you hungrily, shaking off any remnants of sleep in your body. He was insatiable, but you were loving it. You’d never felt this desired, this craved, and it made you feel good. 

Keeping one arm slung around your waist to keep you pressed close to him, you felt as he began to brush his fingers over the marks around your neck, much lighter than you had. Still, it elicited a small noise of complaint from you. “M’Sorry,” you heard him murmur, and you shook your head in response. 

“Does it seem like I’m complainin’?” You chuckled lightly, but there was still a hint of guilt on his features. “Just, no more. I don’t know how I’m coverin’ these, let alone more.”

“So you are complainin’.”

You dramatically rolled your eyes, much to the amusement of Arthur. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

He just hummed noncommittally, eyes never leaving your body in the mirror. It was quite a nice sight, you wrapped up in Arthur’s arms, the evidence of the night's escapades littering your body. “Hell of a sight to walk out and see,” he murmured, taking on a raspy tone that you’d come to know quite well over the past day. 

“Not a bad sight yourself.” Your already unsteady legs grew weaker when you felt him begin to drag his fingers down. “Arthur…”

“Want me to stop?”

“You better not.”

A breathy laugh left Arthur. “Understood, darlin’.” As you asked, he continued, making you shiver and press into him. His chest was practically flush with your back, and you could feel it begin to rise more rapidly with barely contained excitement. When he grazed your breasts, the responding noise you made made him grin, and you could feel him half-hard against your back. 

You tried to reach behind and touch him, but he lightly redirected you. “Later. Lemme make you feel good.” You expected to feel him grope at your breasts, so you jumped a bit when you felt his touch continue below them, traveling down and down. It was like he had one goal on his mind.

He had to lean over slightly in order to reach comfortably between your legs. Your eyes fluttered close when you felt him there, but a gentle nudge had you opening them back up. “Keep your eyes open,” he instructed. “I want you to see yourself fall apart.” His words, along with the just-woken-up gruff tone in his voice, made you shiver. 

You could do nothing but nod, forcing your eyes to stay open as you felt him brush between your folds, fingers barely grazing your clit. But he didn’t tease you, his touch returning to that spot and focusing in on it. Your light gasps turned to moans as he worked you, muttering praises in your ear, his head still resting on your shoulder. 

Blue eyes were locked onto you in the mirror, mesmerized by the way your features contorted in pleasure, your mouth agape as noises left you. One of your hands rested on the one between your thighs, the other reaching up and around, tangling your fingers into his hair. He was practically holding you up at this point, your legs long since turned boneless. 

“Look how beautiful you are,” he murmured, catching your gaze. The slow but persistent movement of his fingers had slowly started to build up the tension in you. 

“Arthur…” Your eyes threatened to close. 

“You gettin’ close, darlin’?”

You mumbled something in response, but it was enough for him. “Just let go,” his teeth nip at your ear. “Wach how beautiful you are when you cum.”

And you did. You watched the way a breathless sigh caught in your throat, your lips a perfect ‘o’ shape. You watched how your cheeks flushed, your eyes rolled back, the fingers in his hair turning deadly as a gentle orgasm washed over you. It left like a caress of a gentle wave over your body, not hitting you like it did last night, but that didn’t make it any less satisfactory. 

He helped you ride through your high, and you pushed away his hand when it became too much. Your eyes were still locked onto both of your reflections, his glistening fingers retracting themselves. Blindly, you reached behind you, hearing him let out a choked noise when your hand wrapped around him, now fully erect against your back.

But you found the angle too awkward, and so twisting in his arms you finally faced him. Pressing kisses against his collarbones, you began to stroke him slowly, quickly picking up speed when you felt him press himself into your hand. His breathing was already labored, and you realized how worked up he had gotten from pleasuring you, being already this close. 

“Arthur,” you sighed against his neck, running your free hand up his chest. Your nails scrapped lightly, running through the hair on his chest. He groaned out your name in response, head resting against yours, his breathing hot and heavy. 

It only took a few more strokes before, with a shuddering breath, he came. His spend coated your stomach

“Let’s get washed up before we spend the whole day in here,” you chucked lightly, still catching your breath.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”

“I don’t think I’ve got the stamina-”

“Who said anythin’ about sex, darlin’? I could be content just holidn’ you in my arms all day.”

For a moment, you seriously considered his argument, the bed looking quite inviting from where it sat behind Arthur. But before you could answer, your hungry stomach decided to answer for you, interrupting the silence. Embarrassed, you groaned, head resting on Arthur’s chest, and you felt it rumble as he laughed. “Guess that answers that, then.”

Tugging you to the bathroom, Arthur helped wash your skin, before letting you go to the closet to get dressed. But before you did, you snuck him a kiss, laughing when he chased after your lips. Donning a high-neck blouse, which rubbed uncomfortably against your neck, as well as a skirt, you felt the ache in your muscles as you dressed, making you wince and grin.

Finished, you headed downstairs as Arthur got washed up… again. There was a newfound energy in your step as you descended the stairs, your nerves still buzzing pleasantly. You chuckled when you saw Arthur’s hat discarded on the ground, and so after heading over and picking it up, you put it on one of the couches, easy for him to grab. 

Your grumbling stomach led you to the kitchen, where you got to work on making breakfast, which consisted of oatmeal and fruits. It was when you were making his bowl when you saw him enter, the bottom half of him covered in clothes. His button-up was on, sure, but was left completely open, giving you a perfect view as he approached. You tried not to look too disappointed when he buttoned it up halfway.

“What’s all this?” He asked, his hands returning to where they had been when he first held you in front of the mirror. 

“Breakfast, although I suppose it’s a bit late for that,” you laughed. “And you better watch those hands, Arthur.” His hands had begun to travel southward with a mischievous look.

Caught, he stopped his exploration, but he continued to hold you. His smile was infectious as you felt it press against your skin, and you bit back a laugh at the way his beard tickled you. No matter how many times you felt it, you’d never get used to it. “Thank you, darlin’.”

“It’s nothin’. I was hungry, and I figured it be rude to make you watch me eat.” He chuckled. “Bowl on the right’s yours.”

He hummed in thanks but was apprehensive about removing his hands, opting to hold you for a few moments longer. He eventually did, though, then made his way to the table with you following behind. Like the person he was, he pulled the chair out for you, leaning down and sneaking a kiss in while pushing the chair in. It made you chuckle, and your heart felt warm as you watched him sit next to you.

As the two of you began to eat in comfortable silence, you couldn’t help but marvel at how right it all felt. Waking up in his arms, him joining you in the kitchen, even eating breakfast together. It all felt like it was meant to happen, meant to be. And when you glanced up from your bowl and saw Arthur’s eyes on you, you knew he felt the same.

But you’d never pictured Arthur as a domestic man. He was an outlaw, a person not tied down by anything, be it rules or people. What that meant for your future together, you weren’t quite sure, but for now, you were content to just ignore it. It had been a great day so far; you didn’t want to ruin it by thinking about the future. 

Sliding your arm toward him, you took one of his hands, and he squeezed gently in response. Even though he’d had his hands over your entire body last night, something that would normally make you want to crawl out of your skin if it was any other person, this touch felt somehow more intimate, more personal. 

You hadn’t even realized you’d been laughing lightly until he raised a brow at you, a smile curling the corners of his lips. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’.” And it was true, there wasn’t actually anything funny with the situation. Well, it certainly was a bit funny, as you were currently in love with the man who had tried to break into your house all those weeks ago. You were just so damn happy that you couldn’t keep it contained any longer. “Nothin’ at all.”

“You’re a strange woman,” he mumbled in jest, the same words he had uttered to you in Rhodes when you first met properly. 

“And I’ll still take that as a compliment, Arthur.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Did you ever think this would happen?” You asked after a moment of silence. “Me, you, this?” You shook his hand lightly. “What’d you think was gonna happen when we first met?”

“Certainly not this. When I first met ya, in Rhodes,” he added when you began laughing again, “I thought you were gonna be another high-society person that I’d crossed, and I fully expected ya to send the law after me for what I did. But when that didn’t happen, well, I just had to talk to ya. You were, are, less… uptight than I thought you’d be. I’d never thought you’d been raised wealthy by the way you acted. And I mean that in the best way possible.”

“I guess we both surprised each other, then. Your appearance deceives you.”

“It’s supposed to,” Arthur sighed. “My life’d be much harder if it didn’t.”

“If only they knew how much of a softie you were,” you teased. 

“Soft?” He repeated, almost offended. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, you know.”

“I… I suppose not,” he relented. “Just don’t let the others back at camp know,” he added with a chuckle, but there was the slightest hint of alarm in his eyes. “They’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“Your secret is safe with me. And your reputation.”

“Much appreciated, darlin’.”

“How is camp, by the way?” You were genuinely curious. “How is everyone?”

“I’m not gonna lie, things have been… tense lately. John’s son, Jack, was taken, but we got him back. Angelo Bronte, over in Saint Denis, had him.” You knew that name. Everyone in the area knew who Angelo Bronte was. You also knew that only the foolish tried to work with him. In the back of your mind, you wondered if Hans had dealings with him. 

“Bronte? You got him to listen to you?”

“Had to do a job for him, but yes. You know him?”

“Not personally, but I’ve been to his house plenty of times. If you got money or somethin’ to offer him, then you’ve been to his parties.”

“Dutch somehow managed to weasel us onto the guestlist for one happenin’ in a couple of days. Thinks we could get some good leads there.”

“Well, Dutch is right ‘bout that. Secrets are spilled there like it’s nothin’, even more so after drinks are had. Are you goin’?”

“Don’t have much choice in the matter.”

“Me neither. But, depending on when he gets back, I might just see you there.”

That seemed to cheer Arthur up over the prospect of having to rub elbows with high-society. “You’re goin’ to?”

You shrugged. “Like I said, it all depends. He usually likes to go, and it’s comin’ up around the time he usually comes back. But no promises.”

“Well, now I’m excited, maybe seein’ you in a party dress.” And you were excited at possibly seeing Arthur in a tux. 

“Gonna have to be a high-neck dress,” you grumbled, making Arthur laugh. “But other than that, things are… good? As good as they can be?”

“We had to relocate to an abandoned plantation house, Shady Belle. It’s a good spot, ‘cept for the gators. But we shouldn’t be bothered by law for a while.”

“I dunno if Javier told you, but I offered you all my house if you ever need a place to stay. Not just you, but everyone.”

“Oh, he told us alright. Dutch debated sendin’ Jack and Abigail, his mom, over to ya to keep him from gettin’ taken again. But John wanted ‘em to stay in camp.”

“Is John his father?”

“As much as he tries to fight it, yes.” It seemed like a sore spot, so you didn’t press it.

“Well, if they ever change their minds, my door is usually open. And even if he’s home, I’m sure I could figure somethin’ out.”

“I’d hate to-”

“You don’t gotta decide anythin’ now. Just know the offers on the table.” Arthur looked away, biting back words. His brow was furrowed, and you could see the strain in his jaw. “Arthur?”

“You’re too kind.”

“It’s really not a bother-”

“No, you’re too kind.” His worried eyes locked onto yours. “This world is vicious, the life I live is vicious. It ruins people like you, good people. I’m… I’m afraid of you gettin’ caught up in all this. All the runnin’, the distrust, the bloodshed. I don’t wanna see it change you. I don’t wanna change you.”

“I know this world is viscous. I may not see it first-hand like you do, but I know. But isn’t that why I shouldn’t try to be kind, as naive as I might sound to say? And sure, it might come back to bite me, but isn’t it rewarding just to try?” You took a breath. “This world has already tried its hardest to change me, Arthur. It has tried to make me cold, to make me cruel, to make me uncaring. But I simply won’t let it, which I know is easier said than done. But every time I think it might just be easier to turn a cold shoulder, to ignore the problems of others, I remind myself that if I were in their shoes, I’d want someone to extend a hand out to me.”

Arthur was silent for a good while, mulling over your words. “I try to help when I can,” he began. “I really do try. But it seems like for every good deed I do, ten bad ones take its place. Every good thing I do pales in comparison to all the robbin’, the stealin’, the killin’. And it tears me up inside, the… the guilt.”

“Then why do you continue to do it?” You asked, no judgment in your voice. 

“‘Cause it’s the only thing I know how to do. It’s the only way I know to provide a life for those I care ‘bout. Acts of kindness don’t pay nearly as well as a robbery.”

“As much as I hate to agree, you’re not wrong. You’ve gotta do what you gotta to survive, and I don’t think anyone can fault you for that. And you shouldn’t feel too guilty; you steal from people who deserve it, right?”

“We’re gonna be stealin’ from you, darlin’. Are you sayin’ you deserve it?”

“Maybe not me, but Hans sure as hell does.”

“Damn right,” Arthur muttered, almost too low for you to catch. But there was still an inkling of guilt on his face.

“Besides, we’ve got so much money, so much that I don’t know what to do with it. It’s like I said before, as long as he doesn’t stop helpin’ my family, you can get as much as you can from him.”

“Have you written to them? Your family?” Arthur asked, wanting to shift the conversation away from him. You’d let him, for now. 

“I sent them a letter yesterday. But I realize now that I’ve got no way of receivin’ their letters.”

“You send it in your name?” You nodded. “I’ll try to stop by, grab ‘em for ya.”

“Aren’t you wanted in Rhodes?” 

Arthur shrugged. “It’ll die down over the next week or so, which should be enough time.”

“You’re gonna do it no matter what I say, ain’t you.” The responding grin told you all that you needed to know. “Thank you, Arthur.”

He waved off your thanks, and the two of you continued your breakfast before it turned colder. You tried to stand and grab both of your bowls when you finished, but Arthur was having none of it. Ushering you back down, he took the bowls into the kitchen himself, even go so far as to wash them for you. Unsure of what to do with yourself now, you made your way to the living room, sitting on one of the couches as you waited for him to return. 

You spotted his hat out of the corner of your eye, and before you could stop yourself you picked it up, examining it in your hands. It hadn’t changed much since the first time you saw it or the time after that. Maybe there was a new scratch or nick here and there, but you didn’t see them. All you saw was a well-loved hat with more stories than you could imagine. 

You glanced up when you saw Arthur approaching, and you flashed him a grateful look. There was a regretful look on his face, and you knew exactly what was about to happen next. “You have to go, don’t you.”

“I’m sorry-”

“None of that, Arthur,” you shook your head, smiling lightly. “As much as I’d love for you to spend the rest of the day here, you’ve got responsibilities, and you’ve got people who need you. I get it.” You stood now, making your way over to him, his hat still in your hands. “Just come back, alright?”

“I’ll come back, darlin’.”

“You better mean it this time.”

“I promise.”

“You sure? ‘Cause I will get Javier or someone to drag you back.”

Two hands gently grasped the sides of your face, drawing all your attention to him. “I swear,” he rested his head against yours, sighing deeply. 

You’re not sure who moved first, your lips colliding in a gentle kiss that sealed the promise he just uttered. You hoped that would be enough to push the thoughts from his brain that fed him the misconceptions that drove him away. 

“I’ll see you soon, either here or at the party,” you said when you broke apart. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he repeated, his hands dropping from your face. Before he could take a step back, you planted his hat on his head, pressing one last kiss to his cheek. With a fond look, he backed up to the entranceway, slipping on his boots with visible apprehension, not wanting this visit to end either. 

You followed him out the door, but before he descended the stairs he hesitated, looking back at you. Before you could even register he was in front of you, kissing you deeply. You let out a surprised noise, before melting into his embrace, your hands grasping his still partially unbuttoned shirt. 

But then he was leaving again, with an almost hurried gait, as if he feared if he lingered he’d never leave. You stood on the porch, slightly stunned as Arthur whistled for Bear, who came trotting out of the woods looking quite irritated at his owner. That irritation melted when he heard you call out his name, his ear flickering happily. Arthur had to stop him from coming over to you, an amused smile on his face when he turned to you. “I swear, he likes ya more than me.”

You chuckled as Arthur got atop Bear, and it took no encouragement to bring Bear closer to you. It took a little bit of stretching, but you managed to stroke his snout lightly, earning a nicker in response. After petting him for a few moments, you glanced up at his rider, a soft smile on his face. 

Words hung on the tip of your tongue, the ones you’d let slip so freely last night. Would it be too soon for you to say it again? Would it make him uncomfortable? Would it hurt you, saying them, knowing he couldn’t say it back?

Arthur watched you, almost expectantly, and you couldn’t help yourself from uttering the words. You just needed him to hear it again. 

You swore you saw something like relief on his face, only there for a fraction of a second. With slightly rose-tinged cheeks, he ducked his head, his hat covering his face from you.

“Now, get outta here Arthur,” you teased, breaking the tension. It seemed to do the trick, and you watched as Arthur began to back up. “Goodbye, for now.”

“Goodbye, for now,” he repeated with the same infliction. With one final glance, he was gone, the trees almost curling around him as he went up the trail leading to the main road. With a thumping heart, you made your way back inside, ungracefully flopping down on the couch, a sigh of disbelief leaving you.

That sigh turned into light chuckling, which turned into giddy laughter, the sore muscles in your body complaining as you laughed. Like before, you were just so happy that it threatened to overwhelm you, and you needed some way to let it out. It only took a few seconds until it died down, and you let yourself just relax, a new thought making a bittersweet smile appear. 

You’d missed what being truly happy felt like. 

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

It had taken some time, but you eventually peeled yourself off the couch. You had almost gone straight upstairs, but the newspaper on the kitchen table made you stop. You realized that Hans probably had no idea about Arthur’s involvement in Rhodes, and if the job with him was to go smoothly, then he needed to remain unaware.

Taking the paper upstairs, it rolled it up and tucked it into the lockbox, the thing barely fitting in there. Eventually, though, you were able to get it tucked back under the bed.

The room felt a lot more dead now that Arthur wasn’t around. The sheets were cold and lonesome, and as you laid down on the bed you could still smell him, all gunpowder and tobacco and leather. As sad as it made you, you also realized now that you probably needed to clean said bedsheets before Hans got home. 

Before letting yourself get lulled into a doze by the familiar smell, you got up, opening the two windows in the room to try and air it out. It took a bit of time, but you eventually gathered up all the sheets, pillowcases, and blankets on the bed, as well as the washcloths from the 

Your body hated the exertion, and it took an hour or two, but you eventually had everything on the clothesline. It did go by quickly, though, with your memories still flooded with the man that had occupied those sheets hours ago, a light smile on your face as you worked.  

Going into it, you knew that it was going to take over a day for everything to dry completely, but you were fine with that. That night, you grabbed a spare blanket from the closet, and you slept on the couch. It was uncomfortable and just irritated your sore muscles more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lay in the bed, the other side barren. 

It was going to be hard to try and sleep without Arthur.

[danikamariewrites]

imagine dark reader who is azriels sister x lucien, she is possessive and obssesed with lucien and has plotted her way into his life. From the second she lied her eyes on him when he and feyre came to velaris she knew she had to have him no matter what. reader goes to great lenghts to make sure nothing stands between her and her precious lucien. She pushes elain towards her brother and slides in comments about how they make a great couple and that the mating bond isn’t really a big deal. She cringes while she says it bc she would kill for a mating bond with lucien, and cannot stand how elain is ignoring him. it enrages reader so much but also pleases her bc now she has him all to her self. Now lucien turns to reader for comfort and ofc reader gives him just what he needs. when they share their first night, she almost doesn’t let him leave their bed, she knows how charming he can be and the thought of someone being on the recieving end is nauseating. and anytime she hears the ic says something sbout lucien she defends him to no end, even with him there, she almost lets her mask slip, she calls mor out calmly when mor says something mean about him being there for starfall. still the next day someone broke into mors house and ruined all her dresses. no one knows who did it👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

please you would write this so good, like i’ve read through everything you’ve written. pls i’m so desperate for lucien being protected, i’d pay so much money for s fic. literally like do you take comissions??? i’d pay frrrrr

Fox Hunter

Lucien x Az’s sister!reader

A/n: As soon as I saw this I put my glasses on and opened my laptop. I love evrything about this and loved writing it. And thank you very much for reading all my stuff and liking it anon, that means a lot.

on the topic of commisions (it's been on my brain for a while), I have been thinking about setting something up to do them for a while now. So if that's something you guys are interested in let me know. I'll probably do a poll or something.

Warnings: dark!reader, manipulation, Elain slander, suggestive

When he stepped through the front door of the Town House for the first time I swear I stopped breathing. Though he was caked in dirt and tired looking, the seventh son of the Autumn High Lord had to be the most beautiful male I had ever seen.

His that tan skin glowed under the Fae lights. The scar over his eye gave him a handsome, rugged look. And that golden eye. Oh how entrancing that golden eye is.

It simply broke my heart when I found out he is mated to the middle Archeron sister. But Elain is a shell of a female now. It would be easy to dissuade her from accepting the bond.

Truthfully, I am jealous of the girl. Jealous and angry. She has one of the most beautiful males in Prythian willing to throw himself at her feet, and she will not give him a second of her time.

I watched as they sat together for the first time. How she reacted when he tugged on the bond. Elain was angry. I couldn't imagine being angry.

I placed my hand over my heart. Hoping against the Mother, the Cauldron, and the Gods that they made a mistake. That I would feel the tug in my chest for him.

I noticed the small glances she and my brother share. Azriel seemed so intent on keeping her from Lucien. Good.

If he kept Elain for himself I could keep Lucien. Another easy task. Azriel is desperate for love. They will not be hard to manipulate.

Lucien broke my heart again when he left for the Continent. I know it is necessary for the coming war, but it didn't hurt any less. I had made sure to say goodbye to him. To wish him well on his journey.

He seemed happy that someone in the court was treating him with kindness. Lucien had kissed my hand, thanking me and asked me to be safe as well. It took all of my power not to lose my composure in front of him.

After the war, after everything with Nesta, life calmed down. It has pained me to wait this long to truly set my plan into action. But good things take time.

I had made sure to spend time with Elain all these months. To gain her trust and show her friendship. "I must admit," She said to me, one afternoon in the garden. "I was afraid of you at first. You and Azriel were so simialr with your silence. Then you opened up to me and I'm so happy to have a friend like you, y/n."

I smiled at her. Although it was fake part of it felt real.

"I'm happy to have you as well, Elain. You can bring anyone out of their shell I'm sure." I smile at her from the stone bench I'm perched on. My wings spread a little to soak up the sunshine. "Well, not everyone." Elain says solemnly, looking back at her tulips.

I gently place a hand on her shoulder, "Keep trying with him Elain. I can tell Azriel is in love with you. You see the way he looks at you, yeah? There's no denying it."

Elain looks back up at me with those hopeful, doe eyes. "You think so?" "I know so." Happiness flashes across her face for a moment. Then she goes back to that somber look.

That look drives me crazy. Elain needs to stop feeling sorry for herself. It's not cute and it is driving me crazy.

"But what about Lucien...and the mating bond?" And there was what I was waiting for. "Your sisters, Rhysand, and Cassian make out to be this glorious thing. For them it may be that way. But you get to decide to do with yours.

"Do you feel connected to Lucien?" She shakes her no. "Do you feel the need to be close to him? To have him hold you?" She shakes her head again.

"Then the mating bond doesn't matter. Reject it of you must, but follow your heart, Elain. Not tradition." The fool smiled up at me again. Standing, she wrapped her arms around my neck tightly. "Thank you, y/n." I hugged her back for the theatrics of it all.

I watched as she scurried off inside. Most likely to fling herself at Azriel. It did hurt a little, telling her to break the bond. If someone had said that to me I'd most likely slit their throat.

The mating bond was something I had longed for since I was a little girl.

I had never had many friends or lovers growing up. It was just me and Azriel in that dungeon for most of our lives. And if we hadn't met Rhys I would be without wings.

When we got older I watched as Azriel had females fling themselves at him. While many of the males in Windhaven showed their intrest in me, I did not return the sentiment. I knew those relationships would never go anywhere.

So, I'd stick around for the fun they'd offer for a week and move on to the next. None of those males ever excited me the way Lucien did. Never made me feel love.

A few weeks later Lucien was back in Velaris. Rhys had sent him to the human lands for emissary duties. I made sure to ask him to lunch before the rest of the Inner Circle tortured him with their questions and scared him off.

We went to a nice restaurant with a view of the Sidra. Lucien pulled my chair out for me like the gentleman he is. Before sitting I gave him a small peck on the cheek. Holding his smooth face in my rough hand.

I could've swore I saw the corners of his lips twitch and his cheeks turn red. I bit my lip, taking my seat.

As Lucien sat across from me we fell into easy conversation. Mother above, he's just so perfect. And charming. Any female would be lucky to have him. And that female would be me.

A lull settles between us and I sip on my water. Lucien clears his throat and I meet his gaze. "Elain has asked to meet with me." His tone changed to serious, leaving the playfulness I love so much behind.

"Do you know why?" I ask, my tone coming out more clipped than I meant. "I have a feeling it's about the bond. I know her and Azriel have been...together." He said that last part like he could feel it. I could sense his discomfort.

I hated that look in his eye. That look of feeling unwanted. I had seen it in my own eyes so many times as I stared at my reflection. I reach across the table to hold his hand with both of mine.

"You deserve love Lucien. If she doesn't see how hard you have been trying for her then she doesn't deserve you. I want to see you happy, fox." He gave me a loving smile at his nickname. "Thank you, little bat. You have always shown me kindness when you family hasn't. I love that about you."

Love. My heart fluttered at the word falling from his lips. It sounds so right. I want him to tell me he loves me. Tell me he'll do anything for me like I would for him.

That night, my fox came to the Town House. I had taken it over since Rhys and Feyre moved to the River House. It was empty and quiet here.

Opening the door I saw the distraught look on Lucien's face. I felt a pang in my chest. I had caused this for him. I have to stop this feeling. Have to make him better. "Lucien," I breathed out, "come in."

I drag him over to the couch and sit next to him. We're so close our thighs are touching. I drape a wing around his back for extra comfort. "What is it, fox?"

Lucien takes a deep, shuddering breath. "We broke the bond." I want to breathe out a sigh of relief, but I have to keep the facade up. "Oh Lucien, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine the pain you're going through."

He looks at me with a pained smile, taking my hand in his, desperately kissing my knuckles. "I am hurting, yes. But Elain made realize something." I held my breath. I could feel my eyes going wide. Could this be it? Could all the work I had planned to do already be done for me by that little fool I call a friend?

"The love I have been searching for has been in front of me all along. I was never meant to be with her." Lucien slide off the couch onto his knees in front of me. My hands still trapped in his. "I love you, y/n. And I curse the Mother and the Cauldron for not putting us together. I need you little bat. I cannot bear another moment without you."

I am frozen in shock by his declaration of love. All this time I thought it would be me on my knees before him. Telling him sweet nothings and saying how we belong together. This is all I needed to hear from him.

Before anything can change I grab Lucien's face, my lips colliding with his in a heated kiss. It's all teeth and tongue. Want and desire. Lucien pulls me to his chest, holding the back of my head.

"Take me upstairs fox. Show me how much you love me." I whisper against his lips. Lucien stands, holding me by my thighs. I wrap my legs around him. I feel his hard cock pressing against my core and grind against him letting out a moan.

Lucien gently places me on the bed, careful of my wings. We undress together. Baring ourselves to each other. Feeling a bond that should've been ours.

The next morning I lay awake staring at Lucien's sleeping form. I trace his scar a few times and play with the ends of his hair that are splayed on the pillow. As his eyes slowly open he sends me a smirk. "Morning my love." Gods I want to keep him like this so I can hear his morning voice forever. It's gravely and deep, sending heat straight to my core.

"Good morning, fox. How are you feeling." Lucien thinks for a moment. "Hurting still. But I feel better with you." My smile widens. It feels genuine this time, it almost brings tears to my eyes.

Lucien moves to get up. My hand flys to grip his bicep, pulling him backdown to the mattress with all my strength. "No," I practically yell. "Stay with me? Let's stay here all day and rest." He lightly kisses my lips and pulls me to lay on his chest. "Ok little bat," he whispers.

We lay in a comfortable silence together. We trace patterns on each others bare skin until I ask, "Lucien, I know things have changed now but I need to know," My heart is pounding so hard. I hate to ask him this but I need him to feel in charge, like he wants me and I need him.

I look up at him as I force tears to line my eyes. "Are we...please say I'm yours now." His lips form a sweet pout I want to kiss. Lucien squeezes me to his body, placing a chaste kiss to my forehead. "There is no one else in this world for me. I love you, y/n. Last night was just the first of many. We have a life time ahead of us together and I don't plan on wasting another moment of it without you."

I cradle his cheek in the palm of my hand. "I love you too, Lucien. And I never want to be without you either."

[sinistergooseberries]

A Goodbye

Not beta read or anything. Literally the most self indulgent thing ive ever written. enjoy. inspired by @rambheem-is-real 's nsfw posts that got the horny wheels working.

Pairing: Varadeva

NSFW

*****

Khansaar, 2010

There it was. Laid out in front of them like an animal's carcass.

Love had never been easy for Varadha. Love had always been an enemy, a weakness and every other attribute that tainted that word. It ate away at him like a disease and spit him back out like phlegm. When love did not want him, it made him its weapon.

So he looked at its corpse. Beaten, ragged and dirty, as it was meant to be. He was the one who had ended its life, so why was he feeling like a gaping hole had been made in his heart?

And why did love look so alive in his eyes? Why did it writhe and dance and reach out and pull Varadha towards him? Why did it seem to want to live when he kept killing it? Why couldn't it just go?

"Varadha," said Deva.

"Go." A piece of his heart turned to stone as he said that.

"Varadha, listen-"

"Get out. If I ever see your face again, I'll put your head on a spike and hang it at Khansaar's doors. Go."

Well, it had achieved what he wanted it to. That writhing love stopped its dance in Deva's eyes. In its remains, all that was left was a rising anger.

Good. At least he would go out of this world in the wake of that love. No death would be more respectable.

But Varadha knew Deva more than he knew himself. That anger, so familiar to him, cooled down, replaced with another emotion

It wracked him to his bones.

Don't leave me, he wanted to say. I love you. Love me back. Please.

But he stood his ground.

Deva turned around, and walked out of the room. The entire place descended into silence. No one spoke a word. The sun set.

Varadharaja Mannar became King.

***

Khansaar, 2017

The corpses that lined the border of Khansaar reminded him of another time, when burning bodies were all you could see around you.

He could also see Deva on top of the cliff.

Love still felt like a punch to the gut.

How untamed could something be? How could it still be alive, with all of its guts spilling out? How could it be alive and fight to burn and writhe, when blobs of its blood had fallen for 32 years?

And why did it need to haunt him of all people?

Deva was just as beautiful as he had been all those years ago. Even as Varadha prepared for a proper death this time, he couldn't help but look at the one man who made him feel like he was at the heights of pleasure and in the depths of despair at the same time. How could he not when Deva looked at him with storms in his eyes?

Varadha wanted to ease them. Ease all of his worries away. He didn't care about that Aadhya girl, he didn't care about anything. He just wanted Deva to look at him with those eyes of his. He wanted to drown in them, lose himself in them and then kiss the man's head, caress away the lines on his forehead and love him like he had always wanted to.

"Get me his head," he said instead.

All the people at his disposal marched out, perhaps hoping for an intense battle.

Well, he had just sent a hundred men to their deaths. He made a silent prayer to Katteramma to forgive him.

It didn't take long for the men to be disposed of. Deva was quite singularly focused on murdering anyone involved.

As Varadha sat in his throne, the doors burst open, and in bulldozed the man.

He couldn't help it - he never could when Deva was near - he noticed Deva's minute details without even having to try. It was like a built in mechanism that couldn't be removed. A little scar there, a bit of rugged scruff here, a small mole that had been the highlight of his days during their childhood.

"Varadharaja Mannar," began Deva.

Varadha shook himself out of his little trance. What use was it being in cahoots with a dead love?

He lifted his hand to stop Deva - no, Devaratha - from continuing.

He looked at everyone else in the court. "Get out. All of you. This is between me and - Devaratha." His jaw clenched.

Everyone filed out in a few minutes. The court room, which had been filled with clamouring noise earlier, fell quiet.

Neither of them said a word. Both of them knew what the other was thinking.

Deva put his weapon down. He raised his arms up in surrender and walked towards the throne.

Varadha didn't move an inch.

His footsteps echoed in the courtroom as he made his way to the throne. Varadha's heart constricted just a little bit more with each step.

Deva stopped at the foot of the stairs. His gaze was laser focused on Varadha.

"Devaratha," Varadha said.

"Where is Aadhya?" asked Deva.

"It doesn't matter. She never did, did she?" Varadha smirked. "It was never about her."

"Then give her back." Deva's face contorted, fury radiating off him in waves.

Varadha let out a chuckle, humourless and dry. That fury would go back in again, simmer in his insides. Old habits.

"Come on, Deva. We both know how these things work. I can't give her to you, unless you give me something in return," he said instead.

Deva's fist clenched. "What do you want?"

"You."

Deva's expression went from fury, to confusion, to - something else, and then finally seemed to settle on a decision. Deva raised an eyebrow at him, as if he was asking something.

Varadha watched him squirm. In a twisted way, he felt a bit of triumph. He bet Aadhya couldn't decipher all these minute expressions.

"Come," he said.

Deva took a few cautious steps, wariness shrouding his form. Varadha, as usual, just watched.

One step. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The man was right in front of him. He could smell his sweat and the remnants of gunpowder. He could feel the heat radiating off of Deva.

Varadha's breath caught.

Deva seemed to register that, and a small smirk made its way onto his face. And Varadha, as usual, traced every movement that Deva made.

Eventually, their eyes met. They had to. It was inevitable for them to look at each other like the other held the answers to the universe. It was inevitable that they would search for the answers to their unspoken questions in each other's eyes.

Deva's eyes dissolved into something soft. Varadha - he was helpless. Even if he wanted the harshness of vengeance or past anger to take over his heart, Deva could simply look at him and he would forget everything.

That's just how it was.

God, he was gone. He was delusional. That was the only way he could explain - whatever this was.

How badly messed up it was that he was imagining Deva getting closer to his face, as if he was about t-

What the fuck.

***

Deva was kissing him.

Lips were pressed against his own, bearing down on them.

And Varadha's lips moved. He didn't remember it clearly. Perhaps it was the little bit of whiskey he'd had in the morning.

But Varadha moved. He put his arms around Deva's neck and kissed him back. He bit Deva's lips, opened him him up.

The sensation of his tongue felt sent a jolt through Varadha and heat pooled low in his groin.

He had longed for this. He had longed for it like a parched man in a desert for water. He wanted to be engulfed in Deva's scent, completely surrounded by it. He wanted to kiss this man to pieces, kiss him into submission.

He pulled Deva onto his lap, not leaving his mouth for even a second. The gasp that escaped his mouth just riled Varadha up.

He wanted the man to whimper. To moan and gasp and writhe against him. He wanted him to lose his control and give in.

Well, only one way to do it.

Varadha parted from his mouth. He pulled Deva by the ass and thrusted up, grunting as he did so. Deva gasped.

"Y-you fucking bastard," the other man gritted out.

"Mhm?" Varadha hummed as he rubbed their crotches once again.

Deva just kissed him again, forcefully parting his lips and biting down on them.

Varadha moaned, the pain mixing with the pleasure and making everything hazy around him.

That distinct smell of Deva clouded every other sense of his, and the only thing he could feel was the touch of his lips, the heat of his breath and that heady, heady pleasure.

Deva separated them, and a string if spit extended between their lips. Deva was breathing hard, and Varadha wasn't any better.

Deva's eyes were dilated, and the look in his eyes spoke more than he could ever express with words. Varadha's eyes trailed down to his lips, so plump and kissed. He caressed them and felt Deva suck in a breath.

God, he was beautiful.

He pressed a haphazard kiss to Deva's lips. He didn't move away after letting go. Instead, he let their temples touch.

It was a simple act, a simple touch. Yet it felt like he had finally come home, and had been laid to rest. The hand that had been on Deva's lips, now became intertwined with his hair, pulling them closer to each other. Deva sighed.

He didn't know for how long they stayed like that. Everything felt a bit hazy, and his cock wasn't in the mood for calming down either, throbbing as it was.

Deva seemed to have regained some of his senses. He leaned forward and kissed Varadha's temple. Then his eyes. Then the tip of his nose. The apples of his cheeks. The space between his upper lip and his nose. He peppered kisses across his jaw.

He reached Varadha's neck, and that is where he chose to stop. Varadha looked to the side, and caught Deva staring at him. A small smile came into Varadha's vision.

Oh.

Oh.

Next thing he knew, Deva was kissing his neck, licking it, biting it, loving it. All he could hear around him were little gasps and moans. Deva was grunting as he played with the sensitive skin on Varadha's neck.

Varadha ground against Deva, craving that sweet release. He kept thrusting and rubbing, Deva's erection an acute reminder of his arousal. He wanted this just as much as Varadha did. A little bloom of possessiveness occurred in his heart.

His hand, which had been around Deva's neck, now made its way to his crotch. He palmed the man's erection.

Deva bucked up against his hand, and the moan that came out of his mouth went straight to Varadha's cock. He pressed down on Deva further, bringing out more of those.

Not once did Deva let go of his neck. At one point, he did something with his tongue that almost made Varadha come in his fucking lungi.

He pulled him away from his neck. Deva looked dazed and was about to dive back in, but Varadha pulled at the man's hair. Deva let out a moan.

He looked so fucked out. They hadn't even put each other's cocks inside each other. Something warmed in Varadha's heart at that.

Deva got up. Varadha stopped himself from whining at the loss.

Deva kneeled in front of him.

"What-"

"Shh. Let me do my thing." He placed a finger on Varadha's lips.

This is probably the last time I'll love you went unsaid, but they both understood it.

He took away his hands to work on Varadha's lungi. He untied it, and looked him in the eyes while doing it. Varadha didn't shy away.

Deva looked down at Varadha's twitching cock, the thin cloth of the boxers the only thing separating it from him. He licked his lips.

Varadha palmed his cock through his boxers, little moans escaping his throat.

Deva looked mesmerised by it all. It made Varadha feel a certain type of way.

He placed a hand on Varadha's. They moved together, touching where the other didn't, rubbing where the other didn't, caressing where the other didn't.

"Don't look at me," Varadha breathed in between gasps.

"Where else will I look?" Deva murmured.

Varadha didn't know what to say to that, so he concentrated on Deva.

Deva pulled down his boxers, and Varadha's cock sprang up. He hissed at the sudden sensation of cold wind.

His - whatever - seemed to notice and came to his aid.

"It's aroused," said Deva.

"Shut the fuck up and suck it," replied Varadha.

And Deva did just that.

***

Aftermath

"Did you just have sex with him?" asked Aadhya, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. She had the most incredulous expression on her face.

Deva, to save his ass and reputation, did not reply.

"You did," she said in disbelief. "Oh my god, you went and fucked your fucking ex. What the actual fuck."

Deva stayed quiet.

"Unbelievable," she said.

After a few minutes, though she asked, "Was he that good?"

*****

ummm so that was that. i just wanted an excuse to write porn yall. i hope its not all bad. i hope u find some alright things!

[rainydayz-nstuff]

Again, I hope you don't mind but... Finn (Specifically when he was in his teen years) having a close friend of his disappear through a mirror universe for 2 years, only to come back being completely hostile to him. How would react since he used to have a crush on her before. (Him dating Flame Princess to forget her at first but ends up falling anyways..)

Now that shes back, she absolutely hates him and now he try to wins her back again. (Its up to you how he does it) and later he found out that the reason why she became hostile towards him was her time at the mirrorverse, Finn was completely evil there!

Some angst and eventually fluff.. This will be the last request, I swear!

… DANG. I love that idea. That would make an amazing fanfic.

Also you don’t have to stop requesting! I like writing… in my free time.

Reader is female.

After torturous years without you, Finn was almost ready to call it quits with his feelings on you.

Flame Princess didn’t work out and everything seemed… off.

He missed you, glob he wanted you back with him.

Finn never stopped searching for you. It wasn’t until he was taking a bath in the river that he found you.

You seemed more matured, hostile even. Your appearance was rugged and you had a scar on your neck.

When he saw you, he didn’t care he was naked. He ran, well swam, right over to you and attempted to hug you.

To defend yourself you pulled up your bo staff and held it close to his face. The look of hatred on your face made Finn freeze in fear.

“Get back.” You ordered coldly.

“Y/n!…. You’re okay. Oh.. thank glob, you’re okay!” He was so happy that he didn’t care he was crying in front of you.

You shook your head in anger. “I’m not falling for this trick again. You are a disgrace. My Finn was a pure hero, and you’ll never be him!”

Your words hurt, but he was confused. What had you gone through? Was there someone copying him?

He tried to get closer, but you held your staff tightly and back up quickly. “Stop looking at me like that!”

Finn kept getting closer as you grew more distant. “Stop it! Why aren’t you giving this up?! Giving me up?! Why can’t…”

Tears started to stream down your face. It was such a stressful day and this was still so confusing even though you knew it had been years.

“You’re not my Finn! You know this ain’t my world!”

You kept yelling, but you were still ignored.

In reality you had no idea that this was your actual Finn. You didn’t know you were back in Ooo.

Finn shakily stepped forward before he raised his hand. You flinched back, but he brushed past your weapon and cupped your face.

You froze at the feeling and his thumb rubbed your skin.

“…”

“You’re as beautiful as the day I lost you…”

More tears fell down your face as you finally let your weapon down. It fell with a clank as your fell forward into Finn’s hand.

He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss to your chapped lips, your tears hitting his face.

Your hands went up and also cupped his face, not as gentle as he was since you feared that this was all just a dream.

A sob escaped from your throat as you pulled away. Your vision was blurry, but you could still make out Finn. He smiled with a shaky lip before he started to press kisses all over your face.

His hair tickled your face but you knew that this was home. That your had your Finn back.

“… put some clothes on.”

AHHH I LOVED THIS SO MUCH!!!!

Seriously you should make an Adventure fanfic like this because I would read it!

Thank you for requesting!!

[ornii]

hey i love your writing ^^ can i request a wednesday addams x reader that is like shoto todoroki? You know the half white and red hair, with the powers of ice and fire and that he had the scar, that Wednesday is interested in him

English is not my language so I got this from the translator

Frostbite

Wednesday Addams X Male Reader

Fire and Ice, complete opposites in their own regards, all put into one person, bound for greatness.

Winter, the coldest of the seasons but also has its own warming aspects, when it came to Christmas, or new years, it also had bubbly warm feelings inside. Unfortunately for some that wasn’t the case and Christmas was simply a colder day than usual. And for (Y/n), it was a season to focus on management of his powers.

The winter forest was beautiful in the daylight, the snow falling, the wintering trees devoid of leaves, the open flooring made perfect place for practice. (Y/n) stood on a small flat rock to avoid the cold, taking his Nevermore coat to avoid any tears, he combs back his multicolored hair to focus on a single dead tree. He lifts his left side up and stomps on the ground, suddenly, the cold ground froze over and made a path straight for the tree. I’ve formed along a stagnant path to the tree and spikes of ice struck you and pierced the tree.

“Okay..” he mutters to himself, he takes a deep breath and aims his right hand forward at the same tree and begins to look more, concerned. The heat emits from his arm more fiercely, steam sizzles from his palm and arm and flames quickly dance along his skin and blast a wave at the tree, incinerating it. He relaxes but looks at his arm and sees the flames are still dancing on his skin, he pats them away and quickly checks his face By patting it too, thankfully no flames, but he feels the rugged skin, the slight sting at the wound, the burn that’s still there. He sighs and shakes the fear off, and turns to grab his coat, but was suddenly halted by the presence of Wednesday.

“You.” She says, much to the shock of (Y/n). He calms down and stands there.

“What?” He responds, and Wednesdays eyes trailed over to the flames and ice nearby.

“Your abilities to manipulate fire and ice are, impressive. I’d like to understand more about your power.” She says, (Y/n) stares at her for a moment, he walks past her to pick up his coat.

“You’re really damn nosy..” he says putting his coat on, letting the warmth slowly envelop his arms.

“Im not some circus act for you to take notes on.” He takes a few steps to leave, Wednesdays’ cold demeanor was even colder than his ice.

“Your name is (Y/n) (L/n), at birth you had powers like your father and mother. But you were permanently scarred by your mother at a young age, leaving you mentally and physically scarred I assume.” She says analyzing him, (Y/n) scowls hard, but takes a deep cool breath.

“Stop stalking me.” He says.

“Don’t flatter yourself I stalk my parents as well.”

“…how is that helping you— whatever… if you’re here to watch me snap again, you’re too late.” He turns to leave but Wednesdays words cut him off.

“I came to understand you.” She says, which causes him to halt, he slowly turns back to face her once more.

“…what?” He asked, and she approached.

“You’re different, scarily different from others, I want to know what makes you tick, what makes you feel so angry and bitter. I find.. interest in you.” She admits.

“You, you’re interested in me?” He asks with a small smirk.

“Stop reading into it… I simply wish to, understand you.”

This is the first time someone’s been trying to, understand him instead of poking him to see him explode again, and he couldn’t help but feel, relief.

“Okay Wednesday, Understand away…but don’t take too long in the cold, you’ll get frostbite.

“..I’m looking forward to it..”

[saucyjothoughts]

I saw you hinting at Chantal x Jan. yes please!🥵🙏

(Original post here)

Chantel also likes to pay for certain services sometimes.

(Nsfw Jantel under the cut)

His face was gorgeous. Rugged and masculine with a hint of playful softness in his pink lips and sparkling eyes. He intrigued her instantly long before he'd gotten into this profession.

He'd been a gift from Miha. Allowing her to play with someone else. He didn't know who he bought, just allowed her to pick her stud and he would pay. The only rule was she had to return to his bed at night.

He was so young. Young enough to be her son and yet he looked at her as if she herself was 20 years younger. His hair was pulled up in a bun as he went down on her, his smooth, deep voice telling her how beautiful she was, how good she tasted, how much he liked being inside her. How he'd always liked her.

He had more energy than Miha, able to fuck her hard and fast, in a way she hadn't been fucked in years. His hands were softer too but with the same callouses she was familiar with. A guitarist's hands. It made her like him even more.

When she returned to her husband she was still aroused. Her own eagerness seemed to help him, the idea of a younger model between her legs making him want to prove himself to her. He made love to her, better than he had in years.

The next time she paid herself. She asked for it to be slower, for the young man to make her feel adored.

He spent his time undressing her. Kissing every line and mole and scar on her body, his beard tickling her skin. He ran his fingers through her grey hair, finding nothing but beauty in the silver strands.

He unclasped her bra with one hand, a silvery sheer set Miha insisted she wear just for these meet ups. She knew his initials were embroidered on the inside too and it sent a thrill through her that another man was removing the lace and exposing her body for his hungry eyes.

He licked her breasts, sucked her nipples and told her how beautiful she was in the richest, smoothest voice she'd heard in a while.

"I always liked going to your house you know," he smiled as he pulled off her panties, "You always made me feel so welcome."

"I tried my best." She responded, her manicured nails gripping his hair as he licked her cunt.

Some small bit of guilt twisted inside her when he rolled on the condom and lined himself up. She gripped his back and stared at the ceiling, wondering for a moment what she was doing fucking Jan, of all people. But then he drove his cock home and anything that wasn't pleasure left her mind.

[akwolfgrl]

Part 2 LFT

I will when I have more chapters post on ao3 but I need a bit of help first. I'm not sure if I'm writing the charters well enough.

"Can you fuck as good as you fight?" Were words that Sanji had not been expecting to come out of that man's mouth, and completely sober.

Sanji stared at the man of front of him, while he loved women, they were beautiful, soft, wonderful, they were they moved, thire soft skin and just everything. Sanji also liked men. It wasn't as expected, so he was used to drunken one night stands until Zeff put a stop to it a few years ago after one too many times coming back still drunk. Puberty had been a nightmare. Zoro was absolutely his type, thick muscular body, the scar across his chest that made him look rugged and dangerous. Sanji wanted to lick and mark every inch of the man's skin. Sanji put his cigarette out and slid around the table, placing a knee on each side of the swordsman's legs, leaning closer with a smirk.

"Hmm I suppose I could be nice a give a taste now, if you like what you get come back later tonight and I'll show just how good I am," Sanji spoke with confidence he didn't have.

"Well then, go on and show me," Marimos hands left the back of his head and came to rest on hips, his fingers gripping his ass. "Or are you all talk and no action?" He spoke with a smug grin that Sanji longed to kiss off.

"Shut up,"

"Make me," Sanji slammed his mouth against the other man lips, already hungry for a taste.

Zoro pulled him closer, opening his mouth so their tongues could continue their fight instead of their words. Sanji used this opportunity to slide his hands under Zoro's shirt, feeling up those strong, large muscles of his. Only marred or rather improved upon by that gogras scar that Sanji was dying to taste of. Speaking of taste, the swordsmen tasted of sake, melon and omaboish, Sanji knew he tasted of saffron, seafood, and cigarettes. He was already hard in dress pants and could feel the other man's erection as well. It was nice that he wasn't the only one affected by just a kiss.

Suddenly, his hair is being pulled, his head being yanked back. Snaji let out an embarrassing . sound he didn't know he could make that noise. He didn't know he'd like his hair being pulled. Zoro kept his hand fisted in his hair, attacking his neck with kisses and nips sucking a mark into his skin. Snaji shudders at this point he has lost all control of this situation.

"Ah! Fuck me!" He found himself saying.

"I intend to,"

"Sanjiiii! I'm hungry!" A third voice entered the chat, the voice of their captain begging for food, occupied by the slamming of the galley door.

The hand in his hair released him as they both stared in shock at their captain. They had gotten carried away and subsequently got caught. Sanji wondered how far they would have gone if they hadn't been interrupted. Luffy clearly saw them but paid them no mind as he wandered closer to where Sanji had been cooking.

"Shit!" Sanji scrambled away from the situation only to hit the table which he had forgotten about with his back. "Don't touch anything Luffy!"

Marimo moved his hands to his waist and lifted him up and off of him. Sanji immediately ran towards the jar of jerky he had made. It wasn't his best work since there hadn't been enough time for a proper marinade, but it was mostly for Luffy anyway.

"Dinners not ready yet, take some of this," Sanji shoved a handful of jerky into Luffy's hands. "Dinner will be done in about half an hour,"

"Yay meat! Thanks, Sanji!" Luffy chearded a large girn on his face. He head twords the door. "Bye, Zoro!" Luffy shut the door behind him as he shoveled jerky into his mouth.

"Shitty swordsmen, our! I don't have any more time for you!" Sanji turned his attention back to the man he had just made out with.

"Chi, no need to be testy," The green haired man stood up and also headed for the door. "I'll be back for more tonight, we will finish what we started. I need to hear what other notices come out of that pretty mouth of yours," Before Sanji could respond he was once more alone in the kitchen.

[amywhereyouwant]

Some TOH HCs I wanted to share

There are a LOT of them, so They're under the read more for your scrolling convenience

Luz

-Uses She/They pronouns

-Would watch the entirety of Sword Art Online just to be able to shit on it properly

-Eats way too much Shredded Cheese even though she’s Lactose Intolerant

-Has made a Your mom joke to Willow only to remember she doesn’t have one

-Mains King in Tekken and made a custom attire trying to make it look like the other King

-Screenpeeks religiously in Split Screen Multiplayer

-Predicted Hecazura 2 books into the series, still won’t shut up about it

-Relatively known Digital Artist, her blog probably took off when she started making art of the Demon Realm 

-Hates baking

-Helps Amity bake out of the kindness of her heart(Also seeing Amity enjoying herself is really nice)

-Had a cold once, hasn’t had a Human Realm illness since

-Has SH scars from her depressed period back in the human realm(S3E1), still ashamed over them

-Quotes Memes constantly, only Hunter understands what she’s talking about

-Cracked a rib tripping on a rug on her way to bed

Amity

-Absolutely hates Bugs, like, genuinely despises them

-Does not know how computers work, but still tries to use Luz’s laptop to look up date ideas

-Can and will dress as the most stereotypical Witch ever

-Adopted(All 3 Blight Kids are in my HC)

-Likes to bake

-Does not know how to bake

-Gets sick constantly

-Works out a lot so she can help out with rebuilding the Isles(and also a little bit for Luz)

-Used to apologise a lot for minor things(Pre-timeskip)

-REALLY Bummed she didn’t get to see Titan Luz

-Watched the barbie movie the same day Gus watched Oppenheimer

Gus

-Goes nonverbal when stressed out, uses Illusions and his palisman to communicate

-Cried for hours when he finished the last Cosmic Frontier book, even though it was a happy ending

-Likes the idea of Professional Wrestling, but wishes the fights were to the death

-Quotes Cosmic Frontier as a Vocal Stim

-Dramatically perishes in Matt’s arms on the regular

-Headcanons O'Bayley to look exactly like Hunter just for the memes

-Thinks Human 2D Animation is the most beautiful thing to have ever been created

-Watched Across the Spider-Verse and Begged for Luz to draw a Spider-Suit for him, she did one for everyone

-Got really jealous when everyone else got flapjack tattoos, then he realised he could just make one of his own with an Illusion

-Got insanely mad when he learned about Human Discrimination(“How can you hate someone for something they can’t change? That’s ridiculous!”)

-Watched Oppenheimer the same day Amity and Hunter watched the Barbie Movie

Hunter

-LOVES Dino Nuggies

-Didn’t know Dinosaurs were real for a while until Luz showed them to him, Velociraptors are his favourite because “They’re like Wolves but Lizards!” (They’re not)

-Has a tumblr account where he posts about Wolves, Luz is his only follower

-Definitely has a Fursona

-Kicks Luz’s ass at most video games, except for Halo 2 specifically(I wonder why)

-”Will you go out with me?” “Hunter we’ve been dating for a year” “Oh.”

-Thinks Huggbees’ How it’s actually made videos are 100% Legit and honest

-Made Willow a Flower Shirt to match his Wolf Shirt

-Wears Willow’s Flower Shirt he made

-Imagine Dragons is his favourite band

-Has Epilepsy

-Steals Willow’s dresses sometimes

-Found Nicole Coenen on YouTube, showed her to luz “She looks kinda like Amity!”(Nobody else sees the resemblance)

-Probably plays a LOT of Roblox

-Watched the Barbie Movie with Amity(Luz forced him to)

-Has seen every single vine there is(Thank the Titan for Vine Compilations on YouTube)

-Any kind of facial hair he grows is really patchy so he just goes clean shaven for convenience

-Snuck food during TtT even though he was 100% allowed to eat normally

-Bananas do exist in the Demon Realm, Hunter has just never learned that they do

-Gets visits from the Spirits of the other Golden Guards in his dreams

Willow

-Tackled someone to the ground when they only slightly bumped into Hunter(We stan a protective queen)

-Feeds her palisman doggie treats, nobody knows why

-Filled Camila’s entire back garden with way too many plants during TtT, they’re still there despite not being watered for a while

-Made a Garland made of both Demon and Human Realm plants for Hunter on their anniversary

-Has no real idol/role model

-Happily Listens to everyone else ramble about their interests

-Wears Hunter’s Wolf Shirt

-Calls Hunter “Hun” as a short for his name, started doing it even more after she figured out what it actually meant

-Pranks people she doesn’t like by putting giant Grape Vines around their house

-Held a presentation about plant care for the Gravesfield Gardener Society

-Thinks most Human Sports are boring(Except for Hockey and Roller Derby)

Vee

-Pulls off some crazy ass cosplays

-Knows how to drive Camila’s car perfectly, still has no idea how it actually works though

-Laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe first time she heard Metal Pipe Fall Sound Effect

-Considers Luz to be her Sister, Camila burst into tears and hugged her when she called Luz “Big Sis” in front of her for the first time

-Plays Minecraft on Camila’s home PC, has spent tons of time on Hypixel and built a little shrine for the other basilisks on a private world

-Takes after Luz in a lot of ways

-Is way better at Spanish than Luz, flexes about it constantly(Nobody really cares)

-Had no idea how to tell Masha she was a Basilisk when they confessed to her(Masha knew long before she told them)

-Is really cuddly in Basilisk form, not so much when shapeshifted(“I don’t really feel like it’s myself”)

-Her first kiss with Masha was really awkward, she apologised like 45 times and cried because it wasn’t good

-Steven Universe is a canon IP in the universe, so she got really confused when Amethyst sounded EXACTLY like her

I have no idea why I made this

[intheorangebedroom]

Pleased To Meet You, chapter 13

Summary: Time and reality catch up with Frankie and you, and it’s your last night together in the orange bedroom. Are you two ready to part, even temporarily?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x French fem!Reader.

Rating: Explicit 🔞

TW: cryptic mention of self-harm. Please see the additional note at the end (to avoid spoilers).

A/N: Welcome to the angst fest. This chapter kept me awake for months, yearning for this man, so I really hope you like it, and him. And also, they’re filthy.

My endless love and gratitude to my beta. @meandorla, you are wonderful and an absolute dream✨ Your kind and wise words during the holidays kept me up and going♥️

@heythere-mel provided me with the Spanish translation and with so much kindness, Mel your cheerful mood is everything, you are pure sunshine ☀️ Thank you 😘

@deadmantis Thank you for all the inspo 🧡 Please keep them coming 🙂

Word Count: 5.1k

[prev] * [series masterlist] * [next]

Chapter 13: Perfect Day

The room suddenly falls oddly silent, as if in the aftermath of a natural disaster, or a car crash, until the sounds of your combined panting resurface. He’s lying heavy on top of you, his face sunk into the crook of your neck, and you welcome his crushing mass, your forehead pressed on the cool, hard surface of the tiled bathroom floor, your shoulders heaving furiously. 

More time passes before he can untangle his arms from underneath your limp body to raise himself on his forearms, his spent cock still sheathed inside you. The bite mark on your flesh is bright red, blood just beneath the surface of the indentation. He can make out all his teeth, count them distinctly. What has he done? 

“Shit, fuck, I hurt you,” he husks in alarm, withdrawing from you. You whimper as he moves, and a new wave of panic floods his brain. Supporting the weight of his body on his right arm, his left hand flies to the fresh scar and he starts thumbing it in a frantic rub.

“Leave it,” you whimper feebly, words barely articulated, and they don’t quite reach him over the din of his own breathing. 

“Shit, shit, shit!” he grits nervously, wiping your skin faster.

“Frankie, I said leave it,” you say louder. 

His thumb stills on your skin. With great difficulty, you brace your hands on the rug and laboriously turn onto your back between his legs. You can’t help it and you gasp at the sight of him, his soft, wet curls contrasting with the gravity of his frowned brow, his dark eyes with his skin of gold, smooth and freckled. You don’t think about your next words before you let them out. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

In the years to come, in the darkest, empty hours of the night, when you’ve run out of ways in which to hurt yourself, you will think he was never meant for you in the first place. Too soft, too smart, too beautiful. How could you possibly have kept a man like him? Better that he was taken from you before you had a chance to lose him.  

“Help me up,” you whisper once you’ve steadied your voice, and he slides a firm hand under your back to sit you up straight. The exhaustion that weighs you down is a pleasant one, and you use the momentum to climb onto his lap and straddle him, circling his broad shoulders with your arms, your chest snugly fitted against his. The crease between his brow has grown deep again. You press your lips to it and tighten your embrace.

“You can’t hurt me, Frankie, not like this,” you coo, tracing random figures on his back with the tips of your fingers, “I meant everything I said.” 

Your body’s vibrating under his palms, and when he pulls back a little to better see you, the look on your face reaches deep within him, slowing the wild thumping of his heart. You trace a trail of kisses on his eyelids, down the side of his nose, the edge of his jaw, and when you meet his lips, he opens up for you immediately. You kiss your certitude into him, and he swallows all of it. Slowly, languidly, until he stands up, lifting you easily to carry you back to the bedroom. Which is just as good, you don’t think you’ll be able to walk anytime soon.

He lays you on the sheets, and neither of you break that kiss. And you remain safely tucked in his embrace until, finally, you fall asleep.

There’s a pattern to this, he notes, sitting on the edge of the bed, relishing your even, quiet breathing. You’ll rest if he rails you. You’ll let go if he fucks the doubt out of you. 

Should he cover you? The heat hasn’t abated, but there’s a light breeze rustling the orange curtains, and you might be more comfortable if he pulled the white sheet over you, at least up to your waist. But perhaps all he wants is to wrap you in his scent again. 

He watches you a while longer before he can tear himself from your sleeping form, fencing off thoughts of the morning to come. He can't let them taint what little time you two have left. But he has to think, however, about after. How to formulate his request for a bond to tie you to him. He could take your number, your address. Ask you to wait. Word it, plain and clear. He’s yours. You’re his. 

Is it fair, though, asking you to attach yourself to a man who will most likely one day go to war? You’re younger than him, just a few years, but enough to have him question his rights to ask this much, if he even has any. You’ve a mind cut out for books and learning and academic achievements. What has he got to offer? Piles of paperbacks, a bag of clothes, and a pair of orange curtains. Questions about his past, an empty space where a father should stand.  

He’s got himself. That’s all he has. He knows his worth. And he’ll offer you that. You could try, at least for a while, cheat the distance, ignore the passage of time, write and call and fly across the globe into each other’s arms at every occasion. Would it work? He knows the answer to that. It’s in the tranquil, rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, in your emerging confidence, in your serene, sleeping face. It’s in your touch and in your eyes and in your trust. It’s in the peacefulness he’s never known until now. Of course, it would work.

Standing up, eventually, he walks over to the stack of clothes you neatly folded the day before, and slips on his black briefs. Another glance in your direction, and he goes to the kitchen sink, opening the tap to fill up a tall glass of water.

On the countertop near the front door, his cellphone lies face down where he threw it when he came home with you on Friday night. It feels like forever ago, now. In the best possible way. 

Unsurprisingly, the phone is dead, and it takes him a few minutes to retrieve the charger, in his bedroom by the bed, and walk back to the other room to plug it in. 

He thought himself ready, but reality still kicks him in the gut when the small Nokia screen lights up, ominously glaring with 12 missed calls and 16 unread messages. He runs a weary palm over his face before he can bring himself to look into it, and he lets out a relieved sigh when he realises that most notifications are from his sister. 

There’s a weekend’s worth of her daily reminders of “You can still change your mind, there’s no shame in it,” a phrase she’s delivered in person or by text ever since he enrolled. Most messages are practical inquiries about the apartment, and his last days as a civilian. Is he packed? Does he need help? Is there something in particular she needs to know before she meets with his landlord on Monday afternoon?

Frankie tries to focus on the practicalities, feeling a surge of affection for his sister. The thorough care and consideration with which she’s sending him off, despite her disapproval of his choice of path. And now, he’s not so sure if he wouldn’t rather she was still sulking. 

He’s just through sending her a fifth message, hunched over the kitchen counter, when you walk up behind him, sliding your arms around his torso and pecking a kiss between his shoulders, the tension he didn’t even register had built in his frame dropping instantly. 

You release your embrace and go around him, casually leaning against the Formica countertop, when you realise what he’s doing. 

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were… sending sms? How do you say it in English?” you ask.

“Texting,” he answers with a soft smile. “It’s fine. It’s Izzy, my sister. About tomorrow,” he adds, a tick in his jaw, a nervous tic of his you’re growing accustomed to. 

You’ve put on your panties and you’re wearing his shirt again, the sides of it framing your naked breasts. He considers asking you to keep it. He doesn’t really give a shit if that makes him sound too needy.

“She’s coming to pick you up, right?” He nods and you ask again, “What time are you leaving?” 

“6 a.m.,” he replies, his teeth slightly clenched. 

You mull over your next words. You’re intuitive, but far too sincere to be considered subtle. Incapable of concealing anything, despite your inclination for secrecy. So you opt for a straightforward question.

“Do you need time alone to get ready? Perhaps you should rest, I should leave you-”

He stands up straight, rising to his impressive full height, silencing the rest of your sentence with his silhouette towering over yours. 

“Stay.”

You tilt up your head to look him in the eyes, dark, overshadowed by that damn crease between his brow. 

“I will. I am.”

You grasp the countertop so you don’t sway when he smiles so deeply his dimple shows. His arm goes around your waist under his shirt and his hand splays possessively in the small of your back. 

“I like your skin,” he says, strengthening his hold. 

“I like your lips,” you whisper, and you reach for them, the kiss deepening rapidly, threatening to become something else, something more, until the ringtone of his phone pulls you apart.

He doesn’t let go of you as he reads the message and answers it, and when he’s done, he throws the phone on the counter and returns his full attention to you, pressing his mouth on the fresh scar at the base of your neck. He was so quick to figure what gets you off, but you still feel sore from earlier, in the bathroom, so you resist the pull in your lower belly and ask, “Can I help you with something? Do you need to tidy up the place?”

As you say it, you realise the apartment is already as clean as it gets, but Frankie picks up on your hint and slightly draws away from you, giving you a little space. 

“No, not really. Izzy’s coming tomorrow afternoon to pack up the sheets, the towels, and the curtains. The rest isn’t mine.” 

Your eyes widen as your eyebrow shoot up to your hairline and you gasp in horror, “Jesus Frankie, you’re telling me your sister is gonna see those sheets?”

His laughter rumbles from the depth of his chest. It’s the first time you hear him laugh so resoundingly, and your heart sinks a little because it retains the breathy quality of his voice.

“Yea, and she’s gonna see you too, tomorrow morning, so she’ll know who’s the culprit.”

You burst into a silly giggle and slap his shoulder in mock reproach. He draws you in again, wanting to feel you laugh with his whole body. He can’t help his next question, he needs to know and it’s better to ask now, with the light mood you two are in.

“When are you going back home?”

You scrunch up your nose to think, not even sure of what day today is anymore.

“End of August? Uni starts in October, so I’ll have a month to work full time and save some money.”

“What will you do with the rest of your summer?” He does his very best to conceal the ache from this one, your remaining time on this continent, that he won’t be spending with you, before the ocean spreads your two bodies further apart, but it’s useless, it seems. You tuck yourself against him before you answer, speaking into his neck.

“More museums, probably. Coney Island. I’ll go back to the Algonquin, take pictures. I want to see the Guggenheim again.”

He nuzzles into your hair, his words muffled, “You been to the MoMa yet?”

“Yes,” you look up at him, “but I prefer the Guggenheim. The building itself, I mean. It’s 80% of the experience, to me. I don’t know, it’s so… sexy?”

You chuckle in self-derision and hide your face in his neck again, and you feel more than hear his breathy laugh. 

“Sexy? You wanna elaborate?”

You lean back against the counter, moving away from his heat so you can focus and think over your arguments. 

“Ok, yes, sensual might be a better term. The coiling structure? It’s like… an ascent? A building orgasm? I find it somehow soft, yet dramatic. I like the open space that doesn’t feel impersonal, it’s like a womb, I don’t know. I don’t necessarily care for the art in it, actually, I’m more classic in my tastes, but this building does something to me,” you finish, throwing your palms up.

You bask in his luminous smile, the gleam of his soft eyes that have regained their warm, brown shade. 

“Yea, ok, I understand.”

At times, he thinks you might be aware of the extent of what you do to him. But mostly he’s convinced that you haven’t got a clue. 

“Do you like the MoMa better?” you ask.

“Not anymore, I don’t,” he jokes. 

He pushes the half-full glass of water towards you and you drink it up, before asking again, “Who’s your favourite painter? Do you have one?” 

“Oh yea, that’s easy, Gerhard Richter,” he answers quickly. 

You furrow your brow, “That’s super abstract, no?” 

“I guess, maybe, not everything. Who’s yours?” he adds, taking a step closer to you after you’ve put the glass down.  

You rest your hand on his forearm as you pause to decide.

“Eugène Carrière, probably.” Frankie shakes his head, indicating he doesn’t know the name. “He was a 19th century French painter… He painted in grey, brownish, kind of sepia tones. I don’t know how to explain it, I’m not an art student,” you shrug, always a lingering apology about your words. Yet, you carry on, “What I love is that, it should be dark, and gloomy, but it’s not. It’s very luminous, lots of golden tones. And what I like best is that, from afar, his paintings look defined, but the closer you get, the blurrier the edges, the brush strokes look so light, almost… I don’t know, not there?”

Frankie swallows the lump in his throat before he can close the distance between you completely. Tilting your face up between his thumb and index, he kisses your parted lips, peeking out his tongue to find yours. He only breaks it to lean into the crook of your neck, breathing you in, and pecking the mark he left there. 

“Fuck, baby, I really love your skin,” he whispers against the imprint of his teeth. 

You press your body into his, where he stands tall and strong, with all of your strength, and he doesn’t even budge. 

“And I really, really love your lips.” 

—

The light’s grown dim again in the orange bedroom, a dreaded physicality of the time you got left. 

Standing by his nightstand, Frankie’s been staring into the empty box of condoms for the past two minutes, as if this might conjure up an extra one. He could run to the deli on Manhattan Ave, but that would lose him a half hour between your arms. Still, it’s better than not having you one last time. 

When you exit the bathroom, his sadness startles you. You see him tossing something back into the creaking drawer, but can’t make out what it is, and it’s only when you level up with him that you understand. 

“Hey, it’s fine” he says, more to himself than to you, his voice restrained, “we don’t need to– you’re probably still sore from-”

You silence him with your entire body thrown against his, arms flung around his shoulders.

“Frankie I don’t fucking care, I want you inside me, I want you to fill all my holes,” you plead.

“Take this off,” he rasps, nearly ripping his shirt off your shoulders.

You expect him to be rough again, urgent and brisk in his need; he cradles the back of your head in his hand, instead, kissing you as he lowers you onto the bed. His hands roam restlessly over your body, his palms pressed on your skin, as if trying to cover you entirely and all at once. He breathes you in, your cheek, your temple, your hair, his muscles shuddering under your touch.

“I wanna taste what I do to you, baby,” he murmurs in your ear in a low, husky tone, and you shut your eyes, your arousal pooling down your folds at his command, “I wanna drink you up, I wanna remember your taste.”

He nibbles your earlobe, skates the bridge of his nose along the line of your throat, and when he reaches the slope of your shoulder, Frankie thinks to himself, “one more, just this one more,” and draws in your skin with a strong suck, his cock hardened at the sound of your moan, the expression of your total abandon. 

His eyes remain locked on your face, his lips sealed to your skin, this is about recording you, in whole and in parts, the sensation of your reactions, the thrill of your shivers, and he’d suck on your skin harder if only he knew how this will end, that what is to come are too many years imprisoned in his head, rummaging through his memories in search of your forgotten taste. 

His mouth slides along your collarbone, and he tastes you there, too, gathering on his tongue the salty flavour of your sweat from the dip of your throat, oblivious to his own grunts, lost in the light touch of your fingers on his back. You writhe underneath him, and it’s like a dance. 

Cupping your breasts, he kneads the soft flesh, gentle at first, then with a mind to imprint his touch, so that you too won’t forget. You wrap your legs around his waist and twine your fingers in his curls. You won’t forget, that is your curse. 

He sucks in your nipple, pulls on it between his teeth and when you hiss your pleasure, he decides that one last mark is not enough, he’ll leave another one on the swell of your breast. 

Then it’s a sharp inhale between your legs, spread by his broad shoulders, his nose pressed to the dampened fabric of your underwear. Your hips arch against his face, and he holds you down with an arm barred across your belly, the other one clutching your thigh, biting your clothed mound with a primitive grunt that makes you quiver and quake. 

Words get stuck in your throat when you want to beg him to take, take, take, so you buck your hips again instead. 

Frankie shuts his eyes, resting his forehead against your panties, willing his waning control to endure just a little longer. Willing himself to savour when he wants to devour. 

The slow drag of the cottony fabric along your legs is a never-ending torture, followed by the soothing graze of his stubble, but he feels you squirm under his hold, and he has no desire to keep you waiting too long. To you, he knows it now, there’s nothing he will ever deny. He licks a broad stripe along your core and, slowly, dips his tongue inside your cunt. You exhale your relief, tugging at his hair with the urgency of despair. 

Thorough and gentle all at once, he drives his tongue in and out, deep, unhurried, and meticulous, the curve of his nose rubbing on your swollen clit, and when he feels your legs twitch, he releases his hold, and pauses. Kissing it better, in hopes to make it last, when he knows you won’t be able to give him as much as you want, as much as he needs, and anyway, that’s not how he wants to make you come. 

Ruefully, he draws away from you, kneeling between your open legs, and your body goes slack on the bed with his retreat. 

No words are spoken. Holding your core against his throbbing cock, a bruising, possessive grip on the dip above your hips, he waits for you to lift up your head, your dazed, unfocused eyes finding his. And on your imperceptible nod, he lines himself up. 

He wants to watch, he needs to see, where he splits you open, and the look on your face as he slides inside you bare, inch after inch, your tight skin catching around the heft of him. His eyes flick frantically between the place where you’re joined and your beautiful face, your parted lips, your hooded eyes, the unquenchable want he finds there. 

The nightstand lamp casts a golden hue in his dark eyes. You record his loving gaze, it carries all the tenderness you’ve never received. You record the warm tone of his skin, the feeling of his touch, the delight of his scent. 

Your hands skate up his forearms in a soundless request. He leans forward, covering you, his fingers splayed on your sides as yours find the V shape of his hair on his damp nape. 

His strokes are deep, barely pulling out before he thrusts in even further, grinding his hips against your ass, tracing open-mouth kisses along your jaw, under your ear, down your neck, and you’re sinking in, engulfed, from within and from outside, all around, enveloped in his scent, lost in his warmth, wrapped in his arms.

You want to call him darling, or chéri, you want to say mon amour, but all that passes your lips is Frankie, because it is the sweetest name, because it tastes like honey and floods your inner world, because Frankie is all that there is left inside your brain. 

Years from now, you will still cry out his name, your face hidden into your tear-stained pillow, your empty body heaving with pain, with want, with regrets, the faint prayer of Frankie Frankie Frankie flowing out of you. 

So it is Frankie, you say, as you take his hand to place it on the soft flesh of your lower belly, your skin glistening with his sweat, “Frankie, can you feel yourself inside me? Can you feel me around you? Can you feel it?”

Frankie watches the tear that rolls down your temple, his chest constricted with a brand-new sort of pain, he presses his hand harder, and his forehead to yours and he whispers, “I feel you, baby, I feel everything, I feel only you.”

A heavy sob shakes your chest, so Frankie hooks his arms under your knees and his hands around your shoulders and crushes you under his weight, buries himself inside you and grinds. Heels shoved into his back, you’re blindingly stretched around him, he knows you’re going to feel him for days, with what he’s making you take, knows that’s what you want, too, and something primal rips in his chest, he wants to tear it open and fit you in there, carry you with him everywhere. 

He brushes his lips against yours, his voice hoarse and low when he speaks into your mouth, “I’m gonna come inside you, baby, I’m gonna come inside you.” 

Tears flow freely from the corner of your eyes, sliding down to your hairline. You dig your nails in his back, and he hopes you're going to leave a mark, he’s breathing inside your mouth, and it is with his breath that you answer, “Come with me, Frankie.” 

He nods his answer and it’s only a few more strokes before he feels your cunt start to flutter, your body pulled taut in his hold, your nails breaking his skin. He buries his face in your neck and lets go, finally lets go of everything, pouring it into your wanting, open body, into your soul, thick ropes of come painting your slick walls, empties himself, fills you up, surrenders to you. 

Your breathing comes in short and shaky, but a rush of cold jolts you up when the air hits your sweat-dampened skin as his body leaves yours. 

“No!” you cry out, sitting up on your elbow to see Frankie crouching down between your legs again. 

Carefully, his fingers part your swollen, aching folds. That primal pang fires through his chest again, at the sight of your cunt leaking his spend. He wraps his plush lips around it and plunges his tongue inside you, gathering his essence and yours. Another sob threatens to break through you and you clasp your hand on your mouth to hold it back. 

When he’s sure to have it all, he sits up and braces himself over you on one arm, brushing your damp hair off your face, brushing the tears rolling down your temple with the work-worn, calloused pads of his fingers, wishing he could drink it up. His thumb presses gently on your bottom lip, prompting you to open for him, and when you do, he lets it roll down along his tongue into your wanting mouth. He watches you swallow, watches the bobbing of your lean throat. 

Years later, this image will keep invading his thoughts, in foreign brothels, in humid jungles, in scorching deserts. He will think about it in regrets that he didn’t fuck it deeper inside of you instead.

Frankie lowers his face close to yours, “I’m gonna sleep inside you, tonight, baby.” 

You nod with what little strength you have left and wrap your arms around his shoulders, your lips seeking his, as he sheaths his still-hard cock inside you. Sliding his arms around your waist, he draws you in and rolls with you on his side. You snuggle your face against his chest, his skin scalding your skin like a fever, and you fall asleep almost instantly. 

—

The night brings him no rest. He wakes up as soon as he slides out of you, pulling you in closer, burying his face in your hair until he can’t breathe anymore. 

Awake when you stir and you stretch. Awake still, or again, when you moan feebly in your sleep. 

When his alarm chimes at 5am, Frankie has barely slept. 

You jolt in his arms, mumbling, “Shit, did we oversleep?” and the pronoun nearly brings tears to his tired eyes. 

It takes you a moment to register the darkness outside, as you rub off the sleep from your eyes, perched on the edge of the bed. The air has shifted, a cold breeze wafts in the orange bedroom through the curtains and you shiver in the silence. 

Frankie slips on his clothes, finally deciding against giving you his shirt. It bears your powdery scent, he’ll take that with him. 

Neither of you want to shower the other off your skin. Instead, he packs his books and clothes in his duffle bag, and you offer to prepare some coffee. 

You’re fully dressed when he joins you in the kitchen, handing him a mug. 

“Mmh,” he smacks his lips, “you make good coffee. Strong. You want some sugar?”

“No, cheers, just milk.”

You run your fingers on his back before walking back to the bedroom, where you start folding the sheets. 

You hear him rummaging frantically through the cabinets and drawers, and when he reappears in the doorway, he’s visibly flustered.  His low voice comes in tense when he asks, “Do you have a pen?”

You retrieve a fountain pen from your purse and go back with him to the kitchen. He’s ripped a small, rectangular piece of paper, on which he writes down some numbers. He hands it to you, but holds on to it when you grab it. 

“Swear you’ll call me,” he pleads, and you know there is not enough love on your lips to ease the crease off his brow. What he needs are your words. 

“I swear,” you answer. 

When Frankie locks the front door, it’s for the very last time, two years’ worth of memories numbing his fingers. He follows you down the narrow stairwell, the atmosphere devoid of the electric anticipation it carried two days ago. 

Down in the street, you are greeted by a swirling wind and bleak morning light. Frankie nods silently in the direction of a parked VW Golf a few cars down, where a bespectacled brunette waves back enthusiastically. You offer a bright smile and a sign with your hand, and Frankie focuses on the prospect of the two of you properly meeting, one day. One day soon. 

“We should drop you off. Do you know which way to go?” His voice sounds gruff and bears the weight of his exhaustion.  

“No, thank you, you’ll be late. Don’t worry. I know my way. I’m a big girl from a big city,” you add with a wink. 

Frankie bows down his head, shaking it left and right, his resolve failing him, so you broaden your smile and cup his face in your hands. 

“I will call you tonight. I can’t wait to hear your voice. You’re going to be a pilot, Frankie! You will fly me over the fucking Andes.”

A sad smile barely lifting the corner of his lips, he’s taken aback by the strength emanating from your trustful features, no apparent traces of sadness, no more blurry edges. He didn’t fuck that into you, even he couldn’t. That strength you’re giving him, is all you.  

He gives you one last, shy kiss. 

You part, eventually. 

Taking the direction of Manhattan Ave, you turn around one last time to watch him get inside his sister’s car, the little piece of paper with his number safely tucked in your jean pocket. You should have told him to be safe, you really wanted to, but it sounded ominous, like a farewell. 

“I can’t believe you!” Izzy laughs as he takes the passenger seat in her Golf, “until the last fucking moment!”

Frankie fastens his seatbelt, flinching.

“You know you can still change your mind, hermanito? No shame in it,” she taunts him for what has got to be the hundredth time. 

“Yea, well, maybe I will,” he mumbles. 

Izzy’s hands stills on the ignition, her black eyes searching her brother’s face. Flying is the only thing he has talked about since he was 10 years old.

“Hermanito estas bien? Who’s this girl?” Izzy asks in a quiet voice. 

Frankie bends down and retrieves a red cap from the bag between his legs. He combs his fingers through his unruly curls, sets the cap firmly on his head, and your name passes his lips for what is going to be the last time in the next sixteen years. 

****

Additional note: it is not spelled out but Reader actually never had unprotected sex and she’s on the pill. Same for Frankie (aside from the pill, it’s a patriarcal world 🙄) who, moreover, just had his physicals. All this to say: please wear condoms.

Taglist (thank you 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @nicolethered @littleone65 @bands-tv-movies-is-me @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @all-the-way-down-here @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos