#No. Ripples shivered around her. I want it so I can remember. What had been done to her what she'd survived and what she had protected.

[acourtofquestions]

Then she asked softly, "How long?" It took the entirety of his three centuries of training to keep the devastation, the agony for her, from his face. "Two months, three days, and seven hours." Her mouth tightened, either at the length of time, or the fact that he'd counted every single one of those hours apart.

[galacticgraffiti]

⋆☾⋆ Big Love Ahead (3) ⋆☽⋆

NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI

Summary: Feelings have been confessed, and what follows is... an explosion of the tension. Halsin thinks himself greedy when all he does is give.

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 4.3k Descriptors: Reader is smaller than Halsin and has female anatomy. CW: Halsin eats pussy and he does it like there is no tomorrow, praise, mutual softness, talks of marking each other up, Halsin is a poet in disguise, fingering, tons of foreplay, dirty talk; TLDR: oral (f!receiving) A/N: This fic is dedicated specifically to my beloved @pinkiemme who listens to me scream about Halsin and inspires me every day with her insane skill and talent. Special shoutout to @maybege for zooming through a quick beta-read for me- ily!

✦⋆ « Chapter (2) ⋆✦⋆ Main Masterlist ⋆✦⋆ If you prefer AO3 ⋆✦

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Chapter 3: The Lover

You are in heaven.

Halsin’s head is buried between your thighs, and there is nothing else you can think about but his tongue and his lips and his fingers and his nose and… him, just him and him and him.

Cold, hard stone digs into your back, but you don’t care as your fingers grab Halsin’s hair tighter, pulling at him, guiding him. He follows your silent commands easily, moaning as he buries his tongue deeper inside you.

You whine and whimper, hitting your head almost too hard as you let it fall back, trying to keep some tension in your body so you don’t slide down the wall.

****

Halsin had undressed you slowly, so slowly, as if you were not on fire by the mere idea of his touch. His skin kept rippling with golden shimmers, his eyes glowing in the dim light as his hands peeled layer after layer of clothing from you until you were bare before him.

“You, my heart, are… exquisite.” His voice is even more gravelly than usual, and you have to fight off the urge to press your thighs together as his eyes travel all over your vulnerable form.

“So beautiful,” he whispers as he leans down to kiss you. “The flowers already sing songs of your beauty as they grow, and the trees will whisper poems of my love for you for centuries to come. The grass will remember where we laid in it, and the stone where our hands touched it.”

“You’re sappy,” you laugh, relaxing a little at the way he looks at you. Like you hung the moon in the fucking sky. “I adore you with all my heart, do you know that? My sweet bear.”

The growl that escapes him makes you quiver, his legs trembling as he fights for control.

“You-“ he interrupts himself, pressing up against you, larger than life, warmer than the sun. “Your tongue is dangerous, little flower. It’ll get you into trouble one of these days.”

You smile at him and pull him down for a kiss.

“Oh, I certainly hope so.”

Halsin groans, his tongue hot in your mouth, his hands all over you, roaming, caressing, grabbing-

And suddenly you’re hoisted up, your back pressed against ice cold stone, your legs struggling to wrap around Halsin’s middle. You gasp, overwhelmed by how sudden, how easy it seems for him to move you like this. Halsin carries you as if you weigh nothing at all. He puts you down on your bed so gently, kneeling to kiss the inside of your thigh with lips that make you shake from their touch.

His eyes are golden when he looks up at you, pulling at you until your thighs rest on his shoulders, his face pressed nearly where you need him. He hums and shivers, but he keeps control. For now.

“You smell good,” he mumbles, his soft lips moving against the sensitive skin of your thigh. “My flower, my very own. You smell heavenly- tell me you’ll let me taste you. Let me taste the honey of your thighs and I’ll never ask for anything again.”

Your cheeks burn, but you dig your heels into the muscles of his back, burying your hands in his long hair to hold onto him for dear life.

“Yes,” you whisper breathlessly, “Of course, my love, anything you want to, anything and it’s yours. You never have to ask for anything again- I’ll be here. I’ll provide whatever you want willingly, eagerly. I’ll never make you ask for anything again, I’m all yours, my love.”

Halsin smiles so softly that your heart stops beating for a moment.

“Mhhhm.” His lips leave a searing path on your skin where they touch you, travelling up and up your thighs, his hands holding you steady and pulling you closer. “I have to know if you taste as good as you smell, my heart. Let me…”

When you look down at him, you can see the face of the bear in the face of the man, his teeth nearly fangs, his fingers almost claws. It only makes you love him more.

“Taste me then,” you murmur, easing the grip of your hands in his hair, tilting your hips as best you can. “I want you, my love. I want to feel you- I want to be known by you, I want to be everything you need, just like you are to me. My bear, my beautiful strong bear...”

Halsin shudders, his entire body bathed in a golden glow. He exhales slowly, his kisses growing languid on their path to the apex of your thighs.

“Dangerous,” he mumbles. “I knew it. What would you do if the bear came out to play, hm? It’s- you have no idea how hard it is to control myself when I have you here- so willing, so eager- everything I want laid out right before me, my beautiful angel asking to be tasted-“

“If the bear wants that as well…” you hesitate for a moment trying to find the right words. “I’m yours, whichever form you may be in. My desire is for you and you alone; no more, no less. The bear can have me just as the man can.”

Halsin makes a soft noise in the back of his throat, trembling against you, his fingers digging into your thighs with sharper nails than they should have.

“Silvanus have mercy,” he growls, voice so low you can feel the walls of the cave shake around you. “To see you with those eyes- touch you with those claws- you would take it? For me?”

Gently, you unwrap your legs from him, and he gets the hint, sitting up straighter between your thighs. You pull at his shoulders until your noses touch. He’s so tall he can barely fit between your legs like this, but you don’t mind. No, you don’t mind at all.

You cup his jaw in your hand that seems too small to be real in comparison to his sheer size. Halsin nuzzles his face into the touch and kisses your palm. You smile.

“My love,I would take anything I could get as long as it’s from you,” you whisper softly. “You are… all I want. If you lose control- if it all gets too much- we can stop… or we can keep going. I’m fine with either just so long as you are.”

Halsin growls, a sound that makes your teeth vibrate now that he is so close to you. You think you can feel yourself drip as slick gathers between your thighs at the sound.

His hand comes up to hold your face, and you nuzzle into the touch just as he did with you.

“I shall try to contain myself, my heart,” he sighs. “…for now.”

“Mhhm.” You smile at him, and his eyes are so full of affection you can’t breathe. “You are wonderful, Halsin. I hope you know that- I hope you know how much I mean that when I say it. You are the best man I have ever known, the best person I could have dreamed of meeting.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, soft, but full of passion, your tongue in his mouth, his hands in your hair. A coil forms in your belly from his touch alone. When he pulls back, you tug at his shirt.

“Take this off for me? I want to see you.”

“Anything for you, my flower.” He pulls the shirt off easily, and you watch his movement with a hunger you didn't know you could feel, burning in your chest, igniting a wild fervour in your belly. An expanse of skin is revealed to you: the broadness of his shoulders, the soft hair on his chest, to roundness of his belly. You cherish every inch of him that you get to see. Halsin’s hands settle on your thighs again, covering them almost entirely, and you wonder what it would be like to carry the marks of his love on your skin.

Your cheeks heated from the thought, you can’t keep quiet anymore, you have to tell him, you have to-

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper. “Let me feel how strong you are, my beautiful bear. I would be proud to carry the evidence of your love on my skin- to feel it every time I moved.”

Halsin’s teeth are sharp like fangs when he grins at you.

“I’ll be as gentle as I can be, but… I wouldn't be opposed to seeing you covered in my fingerprints, little flower. Nor to my own back bearing the marks of your… excitement, if you were so inclined.”

You choke on air when his hands slip under your ass to pull you even closer to his face. Halsin produces a pillow from somewhere, stuffing it under your back, his eyes never leaving yours. The desire in his look burns you up, it sets you aflame. All you want to do is make him happy.

When you tell him that, his smile is blinding and his eyes glow like molten gold in the dim light.

“You make me happy all the time, my heart. I have not felt this much joy in decades, and then I found you.” Golden sparks dance in his hair when he kisses you again. “Now the only thing that could make me happier than I am in this moment would be tasting you. I have waited so long.”

You kiss his face, his jaw; the palms of his hands; anything you can possibly reach. Anything to make him feel as worshipped and loved as you feel beneath his touch.

“You have been so patient - more patient than I myself have been. If that is what you desire,” you whisper, letting yourself fall so easily in his presence, “... well, who would I be to deny you? I would give you everything I have and all that I am in a heartbeat.”

He kisses your thighs, sharp fingers digging into soft skin. His lips are soft and warm, and the contrast of his mouth that treats you so gently and the strength of the hands that hold you in place has you trembling.

He teases you just a little- taking his time, caressing you, his breath hot on your dripping cunt though he does not touch you just yet. You whine and moan and arch your hips until you feel him smile against you.

“This is what you want?” he asks again, his voice rough with desire.

“You are what I want.” You smile and cup his jaw in your hand. His eyes are aflame and his teeth sharper than they should be, but it does not scare you. It only confirms that you are what he wants, and all you feel is lust and deep affection. “Please, Halsin. I need to- I want to feel you.”

“Then you shall have me, my heart.”

Pleasure drowns out everything else when he finally puts his mouth on you. You sigh- already nearly a moan, the tension finally breaking only to build and build when you allow yourself to realise what is happening. This is Halsin; the mighty druid, on his knees for you, moaning into you as his tongue laps up the arousal that drips down your thighs.

You arch your back and press your cunt up into his face. Halsin groans, hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls at you, burying his tongue between your parted legs.

“You are the sweetest thing,” he breathes, “the sweetest thing I have tasted in all my centuries. You are- gods have mercy- I could drown in you and never come up for air. Nature must have had me in mind when it made you, sweet as honey with a voice that could make nightingales cry- and you have never sounded so sweet as you do when you moan for me.”

“Mhhm… go on.” You are practically purring like a wild cat under his touches, your body vibrating with tension and excitement. “I’m all yours, my love.”

“All mine,” he mumbles. His fingers seem to glow from the inside when he squeezes your hips. “All mine, and sweet as honey. Nature truly has outdone itself with you, my flower.”

You shiver, then moan when Halsin dives back down to press his flattened tongue against your clit. Your legs fall open even wider and you tilt your hips up to meet him. He growls in a way that reminds you of the bear inside him, and the thought only makes you wetter.

“Make me come for you, bear,” you moan. “Please, I want to come for you- I want your tongue buried inside me when I do, I want to taste myself on you when I kiss you while you fuck me. Please- Halsin, please-”

You can feel him shake with the strain of keeping his human shape, but his tongue is stroking your clit in just the right way and you can’t stop the litany of filth that falls from your lips.

“Just like that, my love- oh gods, oh- oh, fuck, fuck, do that again… again- have mercy, you’re too good at this, my love. D-don’t ever listen to me when I tell you to stop, I want you to keep doing this f- oh- forever, I never want to…”

Halsin does not hide how much he is enjoying himself. His fingers are digging into your soft flesh with bruising force, and he moans and growls unashamedly as he eats you out like a man starved. 

The moans that fall from your lips, the filthy noises it produces when he runs his tongue through the wetness of your cunt- everything echoes in the small cave and makes you feel the sensations thousandfold. Halsin’s eyes fly open when you gently tug at his hair, quietly asking for more. He obliges, his nose pressing against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, large hands keeping you right where he wants you, squeezing and holding. He takes no breaks, like he needs not air but only you to survive, and the coil in your belly starts to tighten with each stroke of his tongue.

“Let me hear you,” he breathes, barely raising his face from between your legs. “Let me hear you, my heart, tell me what feels good.”

“You feel good,” you whimper, your head light with pleasure. “It’s like you can tell- like you know exactly what I need. Halsin- H- fuck, oh gods, right there, you- mh- you are so good to me, so good to me… I wanna come on your tongue, my love, please let me- please make me- gods, I want everything with you, I want to be filled until I can’t move, I want your bruises on my thighs and to have you inside me all day and all n-night - fuck - to be yours and only yours, my bear, my bear Halsin-”

His growl this time is distinctly animalistic, and when you open your eyes, Halsin’s whole body is coated in golden light, glowing from the inside out, his eyes illuminating your skin.

“You will be my ruin, angel,” he groans. “Your words will make me come undone before you even touch me- to taste you, to be the reason of your ecstasy is all I have wanted for so long. Come for me, my heart, be good and come for me so I can fill you the way you deserve to be filled, be yours and- make you mine, just as nature intended.”

His mouth descends onto you again, licking and sucking, his tongue pressing against you in a way that makes lightning run through your body. You cry out and buck your hips, and Halsin repeats the movement, over and over and over until you are right at the edge of pure bliss.

“For me,” he groans into you, his voice making your whole body vibrate. “For me, come for me, little flower.”

He closes his lips around your clit and sucks, and in an explosion of ecstasy, you are done for faster than you can warn him.

“Bear, I'm going to- f-fuck- don’t st- Halsin!”

The pleasure sweeps you off your feet. Nothing could have prepared you for an orgasm like this - sudden and all-encompassing, so intense it nearly borders on pain as you arch your hips and curl your fingers into Halsin’s hair. His tongue laps at you, drinking in every last drop of you until your legs shake uncontrollably and you are begging him to stop.

When you manage to open your eyes and unclasp your hands from the sheets, Halsin is grinning up at you mischievously, his face wet with you, his eyes still glowing as he licks his lips.

“The sweetest honey I have ever tasted.” He laps at your cunt again and you shudder. A new wave of arousal buries you at the feeling of his tongue inside you as he looks up at you. 

“You-” your voice is barely more than a breath. “You are incredible, my love, do you know that? Fuck- oh, don’t- please, it’s so much-”

Halsin pulls back, a smile still wrinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I thought you never wanted me to stop, my heart.”

In the time it takes you to wring an answer from your blissed out brain, a new coil has already begun to form deep in your belly at the mere thought of being touched by him once more. Your brain stumbles over the words, and while Halsin is not touching you, the promise of More hangs so heavy in the air it’s enough to make you shake with anticipation.

Halsin’s voice breaks the fog that has settled on your mind.

“Are you lost for words, little flower? Already?”

“D-don’t tease me,” you breathe shakily. “You know your skill well-”

“Hmm, I’ve had centuries to practise. Your body is… a miracle. As if nature intended you for me, all this time.”

Halsin sits up between your legs, kissing your thighs. You stretch out your arms to him.

“Come here, my love. Let me kiss you.”

“No hardship for me,” he laughs, pushing himself up on the bed and settling against you. “You did so well for me, my heart. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and your voice moaning my name is the most exquisite song nature has ever devised.”

Your cheeks flush with heat, and you bite your lip. You can feel his hard length pressing against your thigh, yet here he is, singing your praises without expecting anything in return.

“You are too good to me,” you sigh. “And yet here I am, still wanting more.”

Halsin cocks his head, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“More?”

“Mmhm.”

When he bends down to kiss you, you half expect a gentle kiss and the promise of more some other time, but you are wrong. His lips are searing, and when he pulls back, his eyes are pure fire, his fingers claws as he rips them from your body.

“Please.” You are begging - you are pleading. Nothing in the world could make you want to stop in this moment. “Go on, my love. I want to feel you- I want to have you inside me, and I want to make you feel good the way you did for me.”

Halsin growls and twitches, hands slamming down on either side of your head, his large body hovering above you.

“Once I start, I might- what if I can't stop?” He sounds nearly afraid. “It’s been so long, my heart. Have you any idea the way my blood burns at the mere thought of getting to fill you, getting to make you mine?”

You stroke his face.

“I trust you,” you whisper. You run your hand down the expanse of his back, feeling the muscles ripple under your touch as sparks of wild magic dance across Halsin’s body. “If I ask you to stop, you will. Though… I can’t imagine I would ever want you to.”

The groan that escapes from his throat sounds almost pained. Halsin buries his face in the crook of your neck, lowering himself down until you can feel his cock drag against your soaked cunt when he moves.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Fuck- bear, please… please.”

A shiver runs through him at the urgency in your voice.

“Ask me again,” he groans, hips bucking into you, his arms shaking. You loop your hands around his neck and pull him down to you until your lips nearly touch.

“Fuck me,” you say, quiet but firmly. “...please, bear. Halsin-”

The breath is punched from your lungs when he kisses you, his lips searing, panting and moaning into the kiss as he rocks into you.

His hand slips between your bodies, two fingers dipping inside you and the glow in his eyes intensifies.

“My heart- you are one of nature’s great wonders. You feel-” he breaks off as his fingers press deeper and you arch your back to meet his movement.

He fucks you open slowly, patiently - first two fingers, thicker than three of your own, and when you whine and plead and beg for more; he gives you three. You sigh and whimper, calling out his name between sounds of pleasure. 

Halsin knows exactly what you need - what your body needs. His fingers curl just right, and the smile on his face is one of pure joy. He watches as you lose yourself in the feeling of him, as you grind down your hips to somehow take more, as your hands grip the sheets until your knuckles pale. He praises you through it, his voice soft and gentle and full of awe.

You are not a god, but you have never felt more worshipped.

It’s a lot - so much you have to hold back tears of pleasure. Halsin slows for a moment, noticing your tension, but you beg him to go on and he obliges, his motions smooth and assured.

“The stars pale in comparison to your beauty,” he whispers, kissing your shoulder, your jaw, your face, while his hands never stop moving. “Nature has made you immaculate, has made you its boldest creation, the crown jewel of its heavenly bodies. To have you here with me… to get to feel you around me and see your face shine with the pleasure I can bring you- it’s more than I deserve, more than I ever thought I would get.”

His words make your heart stumble, but your body gives you no break to respond as your legs start to shake and the heat in your belly nearly explodes. You are shaking all over, your mind just as desperate as your body. Halsin’s fingers inside you make you feel so full already, and the way he looks at you makes you tremble with affection.

The hard length of his cock presses against your thigh once more when he shifts. Nothing in Halsin’s face betrays how painfully hard he must be- how desperate he must be for release. You want to feel him- you have to feel him inside you, you want to know what it is like- you want to see his face blossom with the same bliss he brings you, and the thought of that brings you to the edge again.

“Halsin-” you breathe, gripping his biceps with an iron grip, writhing beneath him. “Halsin- my love- please, if you keep doing this, I’m going to-”

“Good.” His brow is shining with sweat, and the expression on his face is something between hunger and bliss. “Good. Because I want more.”

Your head is foggy with pleasure, but that notion parts the veil around you for a moment.

“More?” Your voice sounds brittle next to his deep baritone. “Then-”

“Mhhm.” he hums, working his fingers deeper, grinding down against the bed. “More. Give me one more and I’ll have you, my heart. Just as it was intended, just one more is all I need…”

Your head falls back as you cry out, your legs starting to shake. He curls his fingers just so, and stars flicker through your vision.

“Don’t stop,” you pant. “Don't- anything, my love, I’ll do anything- just d-don’t stop, please, please I want to feel you, I want to know- I have to know what it is like to be full with you…”

Halsin grunts, curling his fingers again and again as soft lips kiss your jaw, your neck, your breasts.

“Then come for me,” he commands gently. “You can do that, can’t you? Let me be greedy just this once…”

That nearly does you in. After all that, he still thinks himself greedy for wanting to bring you pleasure?

“Fuck!” Your blissed out brain has such a way with words. “Fuck, bear- I’m gonna-”

The palm of his hand presses against your cunt as he sinks his fingers impossibly deeper, and then, all at once, you are done for. You can feel yourself gush, wetness dripping from Halsin’s fingers as you die a thousand little deaths of ecstasy, your mind exploding into bolts of lightning.

Vaguely, you perceive Halsin’s calm voice talking, speaking to you as if through a cloud. 

After a few moments, you realise it is not only you he is speaking to. He is calming himself down, willing the bear to stay dormant. Your walls flutter weakly, and when you open your eyes, Halsin is smiling down at you.

“You did so well for me, little flower. Never have my eyes seen anything more beautiful than you, and I doubt they ever will again.”

You blink slowly, trying to ground yourself back in reality. When you move, you hear the sound his fingers make when they glide out of you, and heat rises in your cheeks. He has given you so much, and yet all you want is…

“More?”

Halsin’s smile lights up the room.

“You, my heart, are insatiable.” He kisses you, his lips soft on yours, his tongue greedy in your mouth. “I’m glad you are- so am I.”

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[lavellenchanted]

prompt: fredwina + “can you just look at me? please?” 💕

“Are you insane?” Edwina hisses as she steps out into the gardens, careful to shut the doors quietly behind her in case any of the servants are still awake and downstairs. “If Lady Danbury or my mother finds you here, there will be hell to pay.”

Still playing with the handful of pebbles he had been using to throw at her window, Friedrich only lifts an eyebrow. “Then we will have to be quiet, no? But you did not leave me much choice, Schatz.”

He is still in his suit from the ball, but his waistcoat is now unbuttoned and his cravat hangs loose around his neck. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving Edwina perfect view of the hollow of his throat, and the lines of his collarbones as they meet his chest. It’s a warm night, but she feels a shiver run down her spine.

Glad of the darkness to hide her blush, she looks away and focuses on a nearby flowerpot. She’s highly aware of the fact that she is only in a nightgown and robe, and that her hair is falling loose down her back. If anyone were to see them like this, what’s left of her tattered reputation would be completely destroyed. The thought sends a ripple of resentment through her. Does he not care?

No, of course he doesn’t. She should know that by now.

She can’t quite keep the bitterness from her voice as she replies, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the fact that you have gone out of your way to avoid me this evening.”

“I have not.”

She has.

“You barely looked at me once – you will not even look at me now!” He has the gall to sound frustrated. “And every time I tried to ask you to dance you found a different partner.”

“I simply had a full dance card.”

She did not. She has not had a full dance card since last Season.

Judging by the depth of the silence behind her, he is not impressed by her lying.

“Edwina.” With a quiet start, she realises his voice is suddenly much closer; a moment later she feels the warmth of him standing right behind her, and she hates the way her insides flutter despite herself at his use of her given name. “I think I deserve to know what I have done to cause you such offence that you would rather dance with Lord Collingwood than with me.”

That was particularly spiteful on her part. Lord Collingwood is nearly in his seventies, wears the most terrible wig and has false teeth. He also, as it turns out, has both incredibly bad breath and a poor sense of timing, so her spite backfired and the quadrille she had to dance with him felt more like she was punishing herself than Friedrich.

“You mean besides throwing rocks at my window in the middle of the night?”

 “Liebling. What did I do? You must tell me, otherwise how I can make it right?”

There is such soft earnestness in his voice that she’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. There is no making this right, and it is downright cruel of him to pretend that there is.

“You lied to me. You toyed with me and used me, even knowing that I –” Her voice catches, and she hates herself for it because she does not want to show him any weakness, this infuriatingly golden boy who pretended to patch up her cracks while all the time he was simply prying them further open. “You have made me the fool again.”

“What? What are you talking about? I have never lied to you, Edwina, I swear it.”

“I heard your servants talking, Friedrich, at your card party last week. They were discussing your betrothal, whether you would visit Prussia and have your wedding before you return to the battlefield.”

Bringing her arms up, she wraps them around herself, remembering the cold dread that had settled in her stomach when she caught the conversation and began to understand what the footmen were talking about. The sick feeling when she realised that if Friedrich was betrothed to someone in Prussia, then that betrothal would have already taken place before she had ever met him – that he had had someone waiting for him the entire time she was getting to know him, talking with him, dancing with him.

Falling in love with him.

Last year she had learned what it was to have her heart broken. This year she had learned was it was for her heart to shatter.

“You flirted with me. You made me think – You know what was happened to me last year. And this whole time, you have had a fiancée. How is that not lying?”

“Edwina, look at me.”

Tears gather along her lashes as she shakes her head and she squeezes her eyes shut to try and keep them from falling. She cannot look at him – cannot bear to turn and see how wrong she was about the man she thought she knew. Not again.

“No.”

Suddenly she feels his fingers, warm and callused, gently gripping her chin and she catches her breath. He turns her head around so that, presumably, she is facing him.

“Can you just look at me? Please?” he whispers, so quietly she almost doesn't hear him even though there must only be scant inches between them.

She can already feel her defences crumbling, and when he whispers again, "Please," she cannot stop herself from opening her eyes.

Immediately the tears she's held back slide down her cheeks, but Friedrich wipes them away. The moonlight paints him in silver, and his face is filled with tender sorrow as he gazes down at her. One loose strand of hair falls across his forehead and even now Edwina wants to reach up and brush it back.

"Edwina, schatz," he says, very slowly and carefully. "I promise you, I am not betrothed to anyone."

What?

"But, they said -"

He cuts her off, one corner of his mouth curling in faint, exasperated amusement. "If my servants were talking about my wedding, it is because they are all fully aware of my intention to propose to you before I return home and have assumed you will accept."

Edwina thinks her heart might have stopped beating. She has definitely stopped breathing.

"They ... are?"

"I have not made a secret of how much I enjoy your company. And they could hardly fail to notice when I wrote to my mother to ask her to send my grandmother's ring."

Edwina's head is spinning as she struggles to take in this new information, and her legs feel abruptly rather weak. He had asked for his grandmother's ring? He truly meant to propose?

He has not just been playing with her all this time?

"Oh."

It's an entirely inadequate response, but words are beyond her right now. There is too much happening inside her for her to be able to speak.

"Ja." Friedrich smiles softly at her, reassuring her that he is not angry at her misunderstanding, but there is still a hint of sadness to it. "Meine Liebe, why did you not come and ask me about what you heard?"

She owes him an explanation, but it at the same time she does not know how to explain.

"I don't know - I wanted to, it's just . . ." She sighs. "I was afraid, I suppose."

"Do you still not trust me?"

"I trust you more than anyone." Which is perhaps not saying as much as she wishes, when her trust in anything is so fragile these days. "But I have been so wrong before . . . "

"It is easy to believe you would be again," Friedrich finishes for her. "I understand. But I hope that will not always be so. Just tell me now - do you believe me? That there is no one in my heart but you? Or must I offer more proof?"

A warm blush spreads across her cheeks, and it is amazing how the heart that only a few minutes ago she would sworn was broken beyond repair is now singing in her chest and making her feel as though she could fly if she chose.

Holding his gaze, she asks, "What more proof do you have to offer?"

He blinks in surprise, concern flitting briefly across his face before he slowly starts to grin.

"Only this," he says, and brings his head down to press his lips to hers.

The kiss is soft and chaste at first, a gentle stroke of his mouth against hers - once, twice; then it deepens, as he tilts her head further up to a better angle and teases her lips open with his tongue. Each movement of his mouth is slow and deliberate, like he's content to take all the time in world to make his point, and Edwina feels it through her entire body. Her blood has turned to lightning in her veins and she feels drunk on it, wanting nothing more than to press herself as close to Friedrich as possible and lose herself in his arms.

Brings her hands up, she curls her fingers into his shirt and tugs. She feels him laughing into the kiss and nips his bottom lip with her teeth in remonstration - but he finally sweeps her into his embrace and the world around them disappears, replaced by the sound of their shared breaths and the feel of his heartbeat, thundering just as hard as her own, against her breast, and glorious, blissful taste of his lips and tongue as he kisses her over and over and over.

When they finally break part she has wrapped her arms around his neck and it is only his arms around her keeping her upright. Smiling still, Friedrich gently bumps the side of her nose with his.

"Do you believe me now?"

Voice hushed, Edwina nods and answers, "Yes, I do."

"Good." He presses another soft kiss to the side of her head. "May I also take that as a yes to my proposal?"

"Proposal? I don't recall you actually asking me anything."

"I -" He stares at her for a moment, and then they both dissolve into giggles. "No, I suppose I did not. And I suppose the proper thing would be to speak with your mother first."

Edwina wrinkles her nose. "Technically. But I think we are a little way past proper."

He gives a cheerful sigh. "Well, we must still try. But if I call on you tomorrow and speak to your mother, what will your answer be?"

She smiles, and has no idea that it's the most radiant sight Friedrich's ever seen.

"It will be yes, of course," she says, and kisses him again. After all, there's no longer any reason why she can't.

[elslittlestories]

Will it ever be enough?

The Bad Batch fanfiction - Hunter x Gender neutral Reader (You)

Words count: 4,7k Read on AO3

This is an edited and extended version of "The morning after" 3-parts series I posted before.

Summary: Hunter goes into crisis after spending the night with you...You both try to work this out.

A reflection around sensory issues and asexual relationships, so not your typical romance!

In my AU, Tech survived and they all live happy on Pabu.

Warning: discussion of sex, but nothing explicit. I'd say it's okay for teen audiences.

I experimented with the second person writing and mixing two internal POV.

1 – The morning after

Slowly, Hunter lifts your arm from his waist and slips out of the bed, careful not to wake you up. A sigh of relief escapes him as he closes your bedroom door and he makes his way outside of your house. Your porch is a perfect spot to enjoy the morning light rising above the ocean. The fresh air helps relax his muscles.

If Tech were here, he’d say that Hunter learned something about himself and that’s enough to make last night’s experience worthy. Hunter’s not so sure. Well, it’s more that he’s not happy about what he found out. He can’t sleep with someone. At least not if that someone spoons him like you did all night.

It sorts of amazes him how this was the first time he ever had somebody in his bed. But he just spent sleepless hours thinking about it and couldn’t remember one. There wasn’t any mission in which they were forced to sleep against each other and he never had the opportunity, nor the envy, to get in bed with a stranger.

Sure, he held his brother until they fell asleep a bunch of times when they were kids, but he’d always sneak away to go back to his bunk. Omega has dozed off against him a bunch of times, but then he’d put her in her own bed. Beside he was mostly clothed and never really had to endure that skin to skin sensation. The stickiness of it.

Hunter shivers. No, last night was definitely a first. A first time for a lot of things…

He’s still not sure how it all happened. One minute he was dancing with you at a beach party—Omega had talked both of you into it—the next you were kissing him. He froze, brain gone blank, but everybody started to cheer around you, so he went on autopilot mode and mirrored you. And to be fair, the kisses were nice. As long as it was dry lips pressing against each other, that is.

Thanks to Tech never shutting up about the things he does with Phee, Hunter is aware of how romantic relationship are supposed to work. Although, he didn’t know it could go from kissing to have sex in one evening, unless it was one of those hook-ups in a bar some of the regs were bragging about.

You must have gotten caught up in the moment and he rolled with it, just like he does with any new social interaction he’s presented. If everyone is so keen about sexual intercourse, he figured it ought to give it a try. Now that he’s done it, he doesn’t understand what’s so thrilling about the whole ordeal.  

He flexes his fingers as another shiver ripples over his body. There’s a reason he wears gloves nearly all the time: he and textures have never been close friends… And last night had a lot of new textures! He trembles violently, the sour taste of disgust coming back to him. Closely followed by shame.

It was hard not to push you away, to go through it without having a full-on meltdown. Something tells him he shouldn’t be reacting like this. That it might hurt your feelings. But then he remembers the way your tongue felt in his mouth and shudders.

He can feel it coming. The overload. His skin itches. He wants to strip off the little clothes he has on. Maybe diving in the ocean would sooth him? The waist band of his briefs is digging into his flesh. A breeze of wind moves his hair, they brush his nape like a thousand shards.

He leaps to his feet, jaw clenched, hands frantically brushing his hair away from his neck. He needs that bath. Now! He only realizes he’s walking when the ground under his feet changes from the wood boards of your porch to the uneven gravel of the alley.

At some point during his descent toward the shore, he wonders if he should have left you a note, but the idea of turning around is sickening. He scratches the back of his neck. The feeling of his own sweat on his skin makes his want to rip it off.

In the far, Pabu’s port wakes up, but otherwise he encounters nobody. Thank the stars! He couldn’t find the energy to even nod if he met someone. Might even get violent if they so much as slow him down.

His bare feet hit the sand, a signal for his brain that he’s almost there. His chest tightens in anticipation, and he runs the last strides. A wave crashes on his ankles, he suppresses a moan, pulse racing. Two more steps and he’s thigh high in the ocean. That’ll do. He dives.

The pressure and cold of the water on his skin give him the expected respite, but already his lungs are screaming for air. He surfaces up, half blinded by hair clinging to his face. In a mess of harsh, uncoordinated movements, he pushes on his feet to get into deeper water and kicks his briefs off. This time he takes a long breath before diving and let the ocean cradle him. The itchiness turns into a light tingle, like he can feel his blood rushing to every bit of his flesh. He swims furthers, dives deeper to get more pressure, until his body feels under control.

The sun is floating over the horizon by then. Hunter knows he should go back to your place before you wake up. Part of him wished you were just a one-night thing, so that he could pretend he doesn’t care about any of this. But you’re a dear friend to him, have been for a while now. He cares about you. In ways he can’t quite grasp for all he knows, Omega aside, is brotherhood and soldiers’ comradery.

Shame creeps back into his chest as he swims toward the beach. What is he going to do? What is he going to tell you? He stands up when he reaches shallow waters and slowly makes his way to the deserted beach. The feeling of his skin drying out under the morning sun keeps his mind somewhat calm until he hears footsteps coming his way.

He tenses, senses in alert. It’s a light sound, they’re barefooted and alone. Most likely you. A glance back tells him his briefs are drifting out of reach. He’d give anything to have Wrecker’s easiness with public nudity right now!

“I figured you might need this,” you chuckle as you appear around the pile of rocks boarding the beach with a towel.

You have the decency to look at his face while he reaches for the cloth. He thanks you with a smile, despite the knots twisting his guts. You wait for him to secure the towel around his waist before you step in and wrap your arms around his neck with a:

“Good morning, handsome.”

You gently pull him into a kiss, pecking his lips. He complies passively, his cheeks burning up.

“I wouldn’t mind finding my bed empty every morning if it means being treated with that sight,” you add.

From the way you modulate your tone, he’s not sure if you mean his fluster or his nakedness. His confusion prevents him for anticipating what comes next and he can’t suppress a recoil when your tongue darts on him, asking for a deeper kiss. Whatever confidence you had until now vanishes from your face as you take a step back. Hunter mentally curses himself.

“Is something wrong,” you ask.

You seem more worried that sad or angry, which will hopefully work in his favor.

“I— Uh… I’m sorry, I…”

Too many words come at once to his mind and none of them reach his mouth. The pounding of his heart doesn’t help. He feels hot and cold at the same time, chest heavy, palms sweaty. You take another step back.

“Let me guess,” you say, bitter, “last night was a mistake? Just a one-night stand, maybe?”

Hunter opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say. It does feel like a mistake, something he’s not looking forward to doing again. He compels himself to answer something and musters an unconvincing “No.”

“Don’t bother, it’s okay,” you wave him off.

This time the hurt is clear on your face and it’s a stab right to his chest.

“I should have known this was too good to be true,” you keep on, already turning away. “Guys like you don’t go out with someone like me.”

He should catch you, pull you into a kiss and pretend everything’s okay, if only to stop you from thinking you’re not worthy of him. He could, part of him wants to, but he doesn’t. He’s completely lost. He needs more time to think this through and avoid doing more damage. For now, maybe he deserves your spite…

As you climb back home, your anger swells, hot in your belly, tight in your chest. It’s hard to tell who you resent the most, Hunter or yourself. You slam your front door and pace around the living room, desperate to blow off some steam before you explode.

Cleaning should help. You pick up your top from the couch where you scattered it last night. Hunter’s shirt is tangled with it. Your heart shrinks. Tears threaten to escape your eyes. You’re so hopelessly in love with him…

No! You hate him! He deserves none of you pain! He wasn’t even good in bed, rumors had it all wrong about him. It wouldn’t surprise you if this was his first time. Blast, he probably thought he could use you for practice and discard you like trash!

You gather all his stuff, trembling with rage, and shove it all at the end of the pathway leading to your house. You don’t want to see him ever again! No matter what that small voice in the back of your head says.

2 – The week after

Hunter stands at your front door, staring at you while he waits for your answer.

“You’ve got some nerves,” you say.

It’s been a week since that party on the beach, the kiss you shared and…everything else. Maybe asking you to go for a walk—like he has done so many times since you met, like nothing happened… Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea after all. But he’s not ready to give up.

“Can we just talk?”

You huff, intrigued despite yourself. After all, he’s here, and he does look sorry. You refuse to let hope take over you, but you step away from the door to let Hunter in. He follows you and you both sat across the kitchen table.

“I wanted to apologize,” says Hunter with a slight quaver in his voice.

“Took you long enough,” you can’t help but grouch.

Although it doesn’t bring you the sense of revenge you were looking for. You hate to admit it, but you’ve missed him and part of you is happy he came.

“I know…I needed it. I left Pabu for a few days.”

“So I’ve heard. Omega said you and Tech had some errand to run.”

“We visited some friends. A married couple.”

Hunter pauses, hands fidgeting, before he adds, “For advice.”

The leap your heart makes in your chest makes you dizzy. This time, there’s no stopping the foolish hope that he might love you after all.

“You needed advice from a married couple,” you repeat.

“I…wanted to figure out if what I was feeling was uh…more than friendship?”

Again, his voice gives away his fluster. The contrast with his confident stance is unsettling.

“…and?” you breathe out.

“And…I—Hum…Are you sure you don’t want to take a walk?”

At this point Hunter can’t look your way and his body feels so restless he fears it might trigger another meltdown. He thought he’d taken every precaution to avoid it by wearing his most comfortable clothes and keeping his gloves on. This time it’s not over his senses that he’s losing control.

You take pity on him and agree to follow him outside. Your heart is throbbing, you could use some fresh air. Without a word, you head down toward the beach, keeping an awkward distance between you.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” you say, making an effort of keeping your tone gentle.

Motion is already starting to ease Hunter’s edginess and when he starts speaking again, his voice is more gathered. What he struggles with is organizing his thoughts…

“It’s really important to me that you get that you are not the problem here. The reason I rejected you—it’s got nothing to do with you. I never wanted to make you feel like you didn’t deserve me. Anyone would be lucky to have you. Not that I want you to go with somebody else. Well, unless you want to. I’m not trying to force you into anything. I know I hurt and I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“Are you trying to say you…want to be with me?”

The words seem even more foolish said out loud, but your pulse is racing and every part of your body tingles. Your mind is already filling up the blanks for him. He must have panicked because it was his first time. A theory you forbade yourself to think about until now.

“Well, I—…I like you.”

It takes every last bit of control in you for not tripping on the sand.

“I would love to share something with you,” he adds, flexing his hands. “But…”

“Ah,” you say with the wrong kind of butterflies in your stomach. “Here comes the but.”

Hunter looks at you, broken. He searches carefully for his words, toes digging into the sand for anchor.

“I don’t think I’m fit for this kind of relationship.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, your annoyance rising up again.

“I—…I can’t sleep with somebody.”

You stop dead. This discussion is reaching a level of confusion you would never have expected! Hunter turns around to face you, cheeks pink and eyes avoidant.

“Sleep, as in sleep? Or the naughty one,” you hear yourself asking without thinking.

“Er…both? It’s uh…I struggle with the skin on skin contact.”

“And you only found out now?”

“Well, I didn’t have much experience with that until the other night.”

His face takes a darker shade. You can’t believe your ears.

“Nobody ever touched you? Not even a hug?”

“I was always wearing clothes.” Hunter shrugs.

The reality of this man’s life fully sinks into you. Your throat tightens as you try to imagine a child growing up without ever truly feeling the direct warmth of someone else against him.

“Is it okay if I hug you now?”

His eyes widened and you decide you don’t need his permission. You pull him against you and squeeze hard when you feel his arms closing around you.

“That’s so sad,” you whisper.

“It’s no big deal, really,” he replies with an uneasy pat on your back.

You step back, surprised to find your sight blurred.

“This kind of hug works just fine for me,” he smiles.

“Is it because of your enhanced sense?”

“That’s Tech’s theory, yes. I’ve always had issues with touch and texture.”

“Oh…”

There’s a silence as you take the news in and link the dots with your memories from that night, the fact that he never seemed to fully be touching you. Not in the way you were craving for him to touch you.

Hunter resumes walking, you catch up with him to ask:

“How does it feel? The…sensory issues.”

He sighs and doesn’t answer right away.

“Like staring at the sun but you can’t close your eyes.”

Mindlessly, you look up at the sky and squint at the brightness. Something twist inside you.

“So you didn’t have a good time, did you?”

“Not really, no,” he answers with a silent apology.

It makes your guilt flare up.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I could just tough it out.”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work. We’re supposed to both enjoy ourselves!”

Hunter stares in the far and quietly says: “I’ve never been interested in that, to be honest.”

You frown.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“My friend warned me this pill might be the hardest to swallow,” he makes himself joke.

“I mean, have you seen yourself in a mirror?”

It’s his time to frown, so you add:

“You’re hot, Hunter. Half of Pabu must be fantasizing about you and you’re telling you have zero interest in- in- in…the thing!”

He rubs the back of his neck with a chuckle. He never quite understood what people saw in him in that regard, but his brothers have made him aware of it in various teasing ways. Until now he just didn’t realize the fact that he never ever reciprocated the attraction was unusual.

“But wait! What about kissing?”

He winces. You catch it.

“I don’t mind the…closed-lip ones,” he says as gently as he can, aware he’s close to hurting your feelings.

“You don’t mind them,” you repeat slowly.

While your broken ego whales about your inability to entice desire in a man, you’re more concerned about having forced Hunter into something he clearly didn’t want to do. The question escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“Was there anything at all you enjoyed that night?”

He gives you another of his apologetic, sad puppy look and you feel sick.

“But…” you add, “you were…hard.”

“I mean, the machinery is working.”

Somehow, his answer makes it even worst.

“And to be honest, I was expected something to kick in at some point, but…it just never came.”

He notices how pale you are and quickly adds:

“It wasn’t so bad. I wanted to give you a good time, though I’m not sure I did a good job with that…”

“First times are meant to be messy, but I wasn’t expecting to force you into yours!”

Hunter takes your wrist and waits for your eyes to meet his before uttering:

“Hey, you didn’t force me into anything. I overestimated my abilities and chose to go through with it anyway, so that’s not on you, okay?”

You nod, giddy from his strong aura and the feeling of his gloved hand on your skin.

“This sucks,” you mumble.

He let go of your arm.

“Tell me about it…”

You walk in silence until you reach the end of the beach and turn around. Hunter wouldn’t mind sprinting away, if only to get rid of the tensions in his body. He’s never felt more exposed in his entire life.

“Maybe I should give you some space to process all of this,” he says hesitantly.

“Yeah…”

“I— Uh…I’ll just go, then.”

He means to add he’ll miss you, but he doesn’t. After one last look and a shy smile, he bolts away. The run does help a little, but he’s got a burning question on the tip of his tongue, and he knows he won’t find rest until you’ve answered it. He speeds up, waiting for the rush of endorphins to wash over him and take away the dread that you might not want to see him for a while…

Another week passes during which you drive yourself crazy with projections and conjectures. Can you bear to stay friends with Hunter when you still love him? Can you live a fulfilled romance without sex? Can you make him more comfortable with physical touch so that eventually you do have sex? The last one makes you sick of yourself. You know all too well it wouldn’t be fair to him to hope he’ll change for you. Especially since he doesn’t seem to have any control on the issue.

Your friend has taken pity of you and dragged you to Pabu’s flower market before you drown in your own thoughts. She’s been advocating for you to turn the page and move on, arguing that you deserve better. You wish it could be that simple…

It’s her annoyed huff that gets you to notice a familiar face in the crowd. You weren’t expecting to see Hunter here! Nor the intensity of your body’s reaction. You’ve missed him so much!

You used to see each other several times a week, whether it’d be for evening walks or because Omega invited you to whatever activities they had planned. She and you have formed a close bond and you find real pride in the fact that she often comes to you for advice.

Of course, she is the reason Hunter is at the market. He’s holding a couple of plants in one side, Omega’s hand in the other. His eyes dart to you a few times. You can’t decide if you want him to come over or not. You haven’t made your decision yet!

Your friend pulls you into another alley and you lose sight of him. Your chest tightens. You’ve had break-ups before, you know the feeling of grieving a relationship. This is different. This feels like missed opportunity and regrets.

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of the batch’s home, shaking. The door opens on Hunter and you can hear music playing loud inside. Your first thought is that they’re having some sort of party, but a glance at the floor of the entrance tells you otherwise. There are no shoes scattered around, which means everybody is out.

Hunter shifts his weight to one leg, edgy. His hand is clasped on the doorknob, his heart pounding. You stare at each other in a heavy silence, eyes slightly wider than usual.

“Do you wanna go for a walk,” you finally ask.

He flinches.

“We don’t have to talk about us or anything,” you add quickly. “I just…”

‘Miss your company,’ is what you want to say. You hope he gets it. From the way his voice shiver when he answers “Yes,” you think he does.

3- The year after

You stand by your couch, a mug of caff in one hand, the over, covering your mouth as you yawn. In front of you, Hunter is yawning too. He rubs the sleep off his eyes and takes the mug with a thanks. You sit next to him, legs hug tight against your chest, and pull the blanket over you. It’s warm from Hunter’s body heat, smells like him.

He spreads out an arm over the couch behind you, props his foot, socks askew, on the low table and sips his caff in silence. From an open window, the sound of birds chirping and waves crashing fills the room. If you listen closely, you can also hear the fisherman coming back from their night out and unloading at the port.

You rest your chin on your covered knees, enjoying Hunter’s presence. You’re not sure how this became a habit, but every time he finds himself alone at home, he comes crashing at your place. You walk on the beach, grad dinner, watch some holovids and he sleeps on the couch. You sigh in content.

The peaceful moment is interrupted by Hunter’s commlink buzzing from the little pile of things he dropped on the low table yesterday evening. A set of keys, a small wallet where he keeps his change and a couple of pictures and, of course, the everlasting vibroblade.

Hunter grunts and pushes himself up to grad the commlink. His hand grazes over your shoulder.

“What is it Tech?” he asks, his voice still raspy with sleep.

“Morning Hunter. Is Omega awake? She isn’t answering her com.”

“She’s having a sleepover at Lyana’s. Why?”

“Oh, right. Never mind then.”

Hunter pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Tech, we’ve talked about this a hundred times. If this is another treasure quest with Phee, you need to consult me first, then Omega.”

“Right, right. I’ll send you the briefing and see that we reschedule departure for later today.”

Hunter sighs.

“No. You’re not.”

“You could at least wait to read—”, starts Tech without hiding his annoyance.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s got school tomorrow, so unless you can guarantee you’ll be back by 8 sharp, she’s not going.”

Before Tech can argue, Hunter ends the communication and flops back against you. You pat him on the thigh, suppressing a laugh.

“You’ve got this, Daddy!”

He shoots you a tired glare but the corner of his mouth hints the beginning of a smile. You fight against the urge to lean over and kiss him. A few months back, the frustration would have made you get up and busy yourself in the kitchen. You’re getting better at this. You want to. This friendship is the best thing you’ve had in a long time.

“Do you have plans for today,” asks Hunter after he emptied his mug and put it on the table.

“Nothing special.”

He turns to you with a full smile.

“I’m thinking of taking Omega and Lyana at sea. Crosshair found a spot where those green rays like to gather, if you wanna join…”

He stands up and stretch. He’s still uneasy when asking you out, but if the girls are here, it’ll feel less like a date.

“Sure!”

You plan your day over a breakfast that Hunter helped you set up and you agree to meet him at the port in an hour.

“Unless you want to come pick up the girls with me,” he adds tentatively.

“I’d love that,” you hear yourself answering too loudly. “It’s on my way if I am to get some take away for lunch at Polly’s anyway. Then, we can all choose what we want to eat.”

Hunter flashes you an earnest smile, heart beating loud. This is all he ever wanted. A simple domestic life.

“Just give me time to shower and change,” he says. “I’ll send you a message when I’m ready.”

You nod and before you can stop yourself you add:

“You know, you could leave a change of clothes here, and I can make room in the refresher for…”

Your voice trails off, heat coming up your face. You can’t read the look on Hunter’s.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I don’t mean to push you.”

He reaches you to put his hands on each of your arms. He’s awfully aware the two of you are walking on a tightrope, careful not to tip over.

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes too high.”

“I know,” you mutter.

He hesitates for a split second and pulls you into a hug. You sigh and lean against him.

“I like having you here,” you say.

“I like being here.”

In your head, he lifts your chin and gives you a passionate kiss. Your loins tingle.

“But I can’t give you everything you want,” he says, breaking the charm.

You bite your lips, squeeze yourself tighter on his chest until it feels like his heart is beating in yours. The tingle comes back. A reminder of what he’s asking you to let go. But then you never had trouble taking care of yourself. You’d be doing him no harm entertaining your fantasies by yourself while he’s out getting a shower. Everything else has been so good so far, it’s not a hard price to pay.

You take a step back, find his eyes and utter:

“I still want to give it a try.”

The smile that stretches his lips is shy at first, but it grows wider as his eyes get shinier. He takes your wrist up and bends over to kiss the back of your hand. His voice shivers when he says, “Thank you.”

 You pull him into another hug, short but tight, then usher him outside. Hunter stays on your porch a little longer, staring in the far, still smiling. Content. Maybe you two can make it work after all…Then he remembers he needs to snatch Omega before Tech or Phee get the chance to enroll her in their treasure hunt and he sprints home.

I hope you enjoyed it !

If you feel like it, let me know what you think about it.

[yiiyiiwrites]

Friend or Foe (2)

Summary: Kiara's older sister (kaya Carrera) still trying to figure why Rafe hasn't slipped up yet. First Chapter: (1)

Kaya Carrera liked to think she knew the ones closest to her, a good judge of character but after her younger sisters warning a week ago she tried everything to push Rafe and get a reaction out of him. None of her shoves successful though.

Refilling her cup with vodka, Kaya elbowed her way through the crowded house. In the far corner Rafe and his friends stood chatting with beer bottles lining the coffee table. The latest summer party, some Kook she'd never heard of and still had not seen at the event. She stepped out onto the deck, lanterns lining the wide steps down to the pool. The house was in between the cut and figure eight so it wasn't strange to see a mixture of pogues too. The grey area where the semi rich lived.

One in particular catching Kaya's eye, the tall blonde her sister was friends with and a curly haired brunette. She was ashamed to say that she couldn't remember their names, their faces only recognisable from the pictures in Kie's room.

The summer evening breeze sent a shiver down her bare arms, fingers grasping the plastic cup and crushing it. Alcohol spilling over the side, Kaya shook the excess from her hand and glanced back to the boys, her younger sister bouncing beside them in excitement. She met her gaze, smile creeping onto her face and then vanishing as quick as it came.

Rafe's hand traced the small of her back and found a place on her hip. Kaya leant into his side and wrinkled her nose as he kissed the top of her head. "Everything ok?" He asked, he swigged the last remnants of his beer, eyes not leaving hers.

"Bored," she said, but she didn't need to tell him what he already knew. Kaya found herself searching for her sister again, bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

Nodding his head, Rafe bumped his elbow to her arm. He'd half expected her to bring a book, something she found herself doing a lot in his presence whilst he did the odd work for his dad. "You'll get used to it," he said kissing her cheek before he disappeared for more beer.

Kaya followed the trailing stairs to the lower garden, climbing the small fence to walk the short dock. She watched the party in distance, the music a dull hum from where she stood. The water rippled below the wooden slats, boat swaying in the wind.

“Hey.”

The sudden deep voice echoing behind her made her jump, the sole of her sandal getting caught between the gaps of the dock. The searing hot pain on her knees and palms came before she’d realised she’d fallen down.

A warm hand wrapped around kaya’s upper arm and pulled her up. “Oh shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” The person releasing her as soon as she caught her balance.

Tingles ran up her elbow, the cool night air nipping at the grazed skin. She swiped the hair out of her face, mouth hanging open at the curly brown haired Pogue she’d been watching earlier. She winced, not in pain, but at her memory for not knowing his name.

“Oh, why don’t you have a seat,” he said guiding her by her elbow to a nearby bench. “John B,” he said kneeling down and squinting up at her. “Eh, Kie’s friend.”

Kaya nodded her head, too embarrassed from the fall and to admit she still didn’t know her sister’s friends names. She pouted, turning her palms to look at the blood and one large splinter sticking out of her skin between her finger and thumb.

“I can get Kie, if you want?” John B said glancing over his shoulder, his hand ever so close to her thigh as it leant against the bench.

Picking the splinter out, she shook her head. “It’s fine, it just a few scratches.” She looked everywhere but John B, her gaze fixed on the bent edge of favourite sandals. “She probably wouldn’t come anyways, not exactly in her good books lately.”

John B shook the curls out of his face, “she’s just worried, that’s all. You know how she can be.” He fiddled with the bandana on his wrist, teeth loosening the knot to remove it. “Here,” he said cupping her calf and wrapping the cloth around the bloody gash on her knee.

Smiling down to him, Kaya stood up and placed her hands on his shoulder to push herself up. “Thank you, but it’s just gonna ruin your bandana.”

“I’ve got loads of them, you can keep it.” He shrugged, dusting the dirt from his knees and falling into step beside her as she walked back up to the garden.

Glancing to John B as they made it up the sloping grass, she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “I can see why Kie likes you.” All she could think back on was her little sister giggling at her about the boy who kissed her, of course it was John B.

They climbed the low fence, John B helping her over. Kaya stopped abruptly when she turned to see Rafe waiting on the other side. Beer can crushed in his grip, jaw tense and fingers twitching.

In the blink of an eye, Rafe shoved John B against the fence, elbow pinning him down. “What the hell you doing.” Rafe spat, his focus on the Pogue but Kaya knew the question was directed at her.

Slowly and gently, Kaya touched Rafe’s arm trying to get his attention. “I fell..” she began, stopping as he shrugged her off and sent her back a few steps. “John B just helped me. Just let him go, please.” She didn’t know why she was pleading, but in the moment she could see the anger rolling of Rafe and shifting his shoulder blades with each deep breath he took.

The two boys were locked in a piercing glare, both murmuring insults to each other.

“Come on, Rafe,” Kaya said pulling at his arm and hanging off it as he stayed in his place. “Need to clean the dirt of my grazes. Don’t want it getting to infected.” The reasoning behind leaving was one she knew he couldn’t refuse. He always did take care of her, just like she did him.

Rafe allowed himself to be pulled away, eyes not leaving John B’s till he left. Kaya nodded, telling the Pogue everything was all right and that she’s sorry for the commotion. "You okay," Rafe said inspecting her palms, fingers trailing down to the scraped elbow. He clicked his tongue, "can't even blame it on having ya nose stuck in a book."

The glimpse of anger is gone like a flicker, his lips stretching into a smile as he scoops her hand in his. Kaya watched his face, waiting for the switch, but it never came. He brought the back of her hand up to his lip and kissed it.

Unable to make sense of the evening, Kaya followed Rafe through the house and many hallways to the front door. "Got a first aid kit in my truck," he said over his shoulder, the bodies of people made a path for him as you finally made it outside and onto the pebbled driveway.

Cars lined the area, but just ahead Kaya caught the truck in the distance. As usual Rafe had arrived later to ensure he could leave at anytime without getting blocked in. He unlocked the truck and opened the passenger door, lifting her up to take a seat in front of him.

He leant over unlatching the glove compartment and sliding out the green first aid box. Without another word he took Kaya's wrist gently and dabbed her palm, cutting a large plaster to stick to the broken skin and curve of her hand without excess layers puckering.

The silent moments like that, was when she studied him the most. She didn't know how someone so caring and particular could hurt another person, but she wasn't naive enough to think he wouldn't. She'd seen the way he reacted and how sometimes he let it get the better of him, that split second of blinding rage. She'd savour the silence, the light touch and the in-between, the time that he could just be himself with her. Even if it was brief.

Rafe stilled his movements, his focus on the blood seeping through the bandana on her knee.

Kaya lifted his head and held his face, "he was just helping, please don't give him trouble." She regretted the words as soon as she said them, a sigh leaving his lips and retreated from her touch.

“Your sister’s always getting in your head," he muttered, tearing the bandana from her knee and flinging it behind him. "Making me out to be the bad guy.” Rafe smoothed the plaster on her knee, gentle as ever. He busied himself with collecting the packaging and rubbish, stuffing it all back in the box to sort out later.

"I just don't understand why you needed to go for him, nothing happened. Do you think so little of me? Don't you trust me?" Kaya grabbed his hand stopping him, box falling to the footwell of the car and littering the floor. She doesn't know why she's pushing him so much, still wondering if the flicker of anger will relight.

Silence. Rafe's hands on his hips and gaze on his boots. He's nodding, hand rubbing his jaw as he paced the gap between the parked car and his. Stopping he leant against the truck, shadow falling over her as she stared up at him. "I see you, I get you." Leaning into her, he released a deep breath, eyes flitting to hers.

"I know what you want," Rafe whispered, his lips a hair width away from hers. "You want a reaction, been pushing me all week." His hands rested at the nape of her neck, thumbs tilting her head to meet her gaze.

Kaya nodded, lips parting to release a breath. The wave of alcohol suddenly hitting her as he stared down at her.

"You ain't getting one, could never treat you like that," he said, gentle peck at the corner of her mouth almost teasing. Kaya leant into his touch, eyes closing as she took in his musky scent.

And just like that she melted into his embrace, fingers tugging at his shirt to drag him closer. She'd let him win that night, the game of push and pull she needed to know in order to see how far to go with him. The niggling thought scratching away at her, the promise of maybe one day it'd be fight or flight.

[middleearthpixie]

Better Days ~ Chapter Fifteen

Summary: Frerin Durin had the perfect life, until he found out his wife was cheating on him. Now, he’s navigating uncharted territory as an about-to-be divorced single dad. Dating is a mess, he’s dealing with the fallout where his kids are concerned, and really, he would just love a vacation away from all of it. 

Elena Madison is new to Sidleburg, and also navigating life as a newly single parent. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to come down sick, when she hasn’t even had time to unpack the moving boxes, never mind find a pediatrician. And the last thing she ever expected was to meet a man like Dr. Frerin Durin…

Neither Elena nor Frerin were looking for anything, but fate has a way of messing up even the best laid plans. However, both have been hurt and both aren't at all sure they trust themselves, never mind trusting someone else...

Pairings:  Modern!Frerin  x ofc Elena Madison

Characters: Frerin, Elena

Warnings: Oral sex (m/f receiving), protected intercourse

Rating: E, 18+ 

Word Count: 3.9k 

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketchy-loo6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @court-jobi @masterofhounds

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

“That was amazing. I had no idea you could cook.” Elena set down her napkin and reached for her wineglass.

“I had to learn. My kids wanted to eat on a regular basis. And I confess, I got the recipe out of the grocery store’s magazine.”

He waited a moment and then, on cue, Elena said, “Your grocery store has its own magazine?”

“It does and that’s where just about all of my recipes come from. Although, not all of them are quite as good as this and some were flat out duds.” He smiled at her across the table. They were in the kitchen, which was far cozier than the formal dining room, and truth be told, all he could think about was getting her back upstairs and back in bed. He still felt the aftershocks of sex with her, and he couldn’t remember the last time that happened. In fact, he wasn't at all sure it ever happened to him. 

“So, what other talents do you have?”

He grinned, arching one eyebrow. “Want to go back upstairs and find out?”

“Do I hear a hint of cockiness in your voice, Dr. Durin?”

He stood up and moved around to where she sat and caught her by the hands to draw her up from her chair. “Maybe. It depends, really. I’m not very good at flirting. I sound like kind of a dick, don’t I?”

“Normally I’d say yes, you did, but,” she told him, a hint of laughter in her voice as she draped her arms about his neck, “I’ve seen you when you weren’t trying to get laid, so I’m not so sure dick is the right word. Still, can I tell you something?”

“Sure.” He let his hands come to rest on her hips. He couldn't help himself. Heat wafted from her body, seeping into his palms, and without thinking, he tightened his fingers against her.

“You don't have to flirt with me now. I’m here, aren’t I? And I wouldn’t be if I wasn't interested.”

A hint of idiocy flashed through him. “Yeah, you have me there. I’m sorry, Elena. I’m… I’m really out of practice. And I know I keep saying that, but I am.”

“It’s okay. So am I.”

He let his hands slip down over her ass, which just fit so perfectly in his palms. Her fingertips brushed along the back of his neck, lightly at first, but then her fingernails dragged across his nape and a shiver rippled along his spine. 

She looked up at him, her eyes soft and dancing with invitation that had him leaning in to capture her lips with his. Her arms tightened about him. She flattened her body against his, and as those perfect firm breasts pressed against his chest, fire ignited his blood to send it south. Tension twisted through him, the heat that filled him spread outward, and the tingles that meant the beginnings of a steely erection spiraled along the same path. 

Her lips parted, her mouth sweet and inviting as her tongue caressed his. Her fingers slid along his neck, up into his hair, where they twisted and tugged to send another tingle along his scalp. He drew her tongue into his mouth to teasingly suck at it, his hands tightening on her at her quick intake of breath. 

He slid a hand up from her hip to the bottom of her sweater, where he eased beneath it and skimmed along her silken skin up to her right breast. She gasped again as he palmed her breast, as he eased it from her bra to feel it bare in his hand. Her nipple was a tight bead already, begging for his attention even as he swirled his thumb about it slowly. 

Her back bowed, that breast pressing deeper into his hand. He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger to roll, to tug, to stroke. Breaking the kiss, he smile down at her before tugging her sweater up and off once more, and let it fall onto the table, then he unhooked her bra and it joined her sweater.

To put it simply, her breasts were amazing. Just large enough to fit in his hands without any spillover, firm, with dark nipples beading into taut peaks. He bent to her, caught one between his lips. Her soft sigh whispered against him as he swirled his tongue about that hard nub, as he caught it between his teeth to tug ever so gently. A hint of sweet musk rose to tease his nose, utterly heady and powerful. He reached for the snap on her jeans, popped it, slid the zipper down and eased his hand down until he brushed the ebony curls he sought. They were damp already, her arousal silken and hot to slick her flesh and when he slid a finger into her folds, it glided along her. 

“Frerin…” Her whisper came husky and raw to his ears, her fingers twisting harder in his hair. He stroked her, sliding his fingertips one by one over the silky, swollen bead nestled in those damp folds. She shivered with each pass, moaned as he eased the tip of his finger inside her. He slid it back out. He swept his thumb along her clit, slid lazily around it, brushed directly over it. She moved with him, rocking to meet each pass as she whispered, “Oh, holy shit… do that again…”

He teased her clit, pressing down with each slow, teasing rotation and as he plunged that finger back inside her, she rocked hard against his hand, wetter with each caress. The musky scent thickened, his cock responding by straining against his jeans. He tried to ignore it, concentrating on the way she throbbed about his finger, how slick and hot she grew at his touch. She clenched hard about him, squeezed his finger the way she would his cock, each sensual pulse stronger than the last as her orgasm appeared on the horizon. 

He slid his finger free and smiled as he sank to his knees before her, dragging her jeans and thong down as he did. As denim skimmed over her knees, the perfume of her arousal grew thicker, headier, aroused him to the point where he ached to just fuck her. 

But not yet.

Her legs parted as he nuzzled those damp curls and when he dipped to her and let his tongue skim along the heated flesh, her moan echoed through the kitchen. She was hot and sweet, her folds silken with her arousal, and he savored her taste as much he did her scent. He laved over her clit, gentle at first, but as she rolled her hips to meet him, he added a bit more pressure, wasn't quite as concerned with being gentle. He just wanted her to come and he wanted her to come hard. He wanted her fingers to yank on his hair and her body to cream over his tongue.

“Frerin… oh, right—right there, ooooh…”

He teased her with rough flicks, with determined swirls, and then leaned in to close his lips about that swollen, throbbing bead and gave a teasing pull on it. 

She shattered. 

“Frerin!” She came in a furious flash, the sudden gush of musky fluid unexpected but heady and erotic and it was almost enough to make him come without her even touching him. He devoured her then, merciless as he drew out her orgasm, savoring the way she writhed against him, the way she melted over his tongue. She shuddered against him, her legs trembling beneath his hands, her hips thrusting against him as she pleaded and moaned her pleasure in a raw half-whisper/half-moan.

She trembled against him as she went limp, sagging against the table, fighting to catch her breath. He stood and leaned in to kiss her, long and lingeringly, and when he drew back, she whispered, “Holy fuck, that was amazing…”

He grinned. “It felt like it.”

She reached for him then, snagging him by the waistband of his Levi’s and tugged him close once more. As her lips met his, she popped the fly on his jeans and a moment later he shivered as her soft hand closed about his cock to stroke him slowly from base to head. She tugged him free, and offered up a devilish smile as this time, she sank to her knees before him and—

“Oh, sweet Jesus!” He couldn’t hold back his moan as her lips closed about him and she drew him deep. Her tongue slid silkily along the underside of his shaft, around the sensitive ridge of his head. Her mouth tightened about him, pulled gently to send fiery pleasure streaking through him as she tugged his jeans and boxer briefs down and her fingernails swept lightly over his ass cheeks, down the backs of his thighs, which quivered in response as every fiber in his body tensed, He looked down, swallowing an oath at the erotic sight of her dipping to him, pulling back, and then she looked up at him and winked and he buried a hand in her hair, gritting, “Oh, Lena… you are going to make me come, beautiful woman… keep doing ju-just that…”

She smiled around her mouthful of cock, and winked back and then pulled harder to send fresh fire tearing ass through him. Everything in his body tightened from the white-hot pleasure scorching through him. His head spun, his muscles tensed, his balls contracted as his orgasm wound through him like a python, squeezing him until he thought he’d go fucking insane if she didn't make him come. 

He thrust into her mouth, fisting her hair as he did, grunting softly as she swirled her tongue about his head, into the far-too-sensitive flesh around it, underneath it, and he couldn't slow down. His hips snapped back and forth, his rhythm fast and furious as the blinding need for release choked him.

“Lena… oh, holy Christ, Lena, I’m gonna—”

White lights burst before his eyes. He tensed as her lips squeezed him, and then, he moaned low in his throat, utter flaming ecstasy burning through him as he tensed, as he shuddered.

He came in a hard spurt, her name a raspy growl on his lips, bright lights erupting before his eyes as he shuddered again, tensed again, and arched a second time against her. Her fingernails along the backs of his thighs once more had him trembling and a wave of dizziness slammed into him as she slowed and then pulled away from him to kiss her way back up to meet his lips. 

He sank into her, wrapping his arms about her as he whispered, “Holy shit, honey… that… oh fuck me, that was… Christ, I need to sit…”

“So, sit,” she whispered, gently pushing him down into her vacated chair before she drew her jeans and underwear back up. 

The wood was cool against his bare ass, but he didn't care as he tugged her down onto his lap and wrapped his arms about her once more. She melted against him, her lips brushing his ear as she murmured, “I thought I should return the favor.”

“I am so fucking glad you did…” He managed, his eyes closing as the delicious post-orgasm drowsiness set in. He leaned into her, his head coming to rest in the slope of her neck as he waited for it to clear. He couldn’t remember the last time woman gave him oral sex to completion, and couldn't believe he’d forgotten just how fucking good it felt to be brought to orgasm that way. The only thing that would feel better would be fucking skin to skin with her. 

Her fingers slid through his hair, the caresses soothing and gentle. “So am I. You, Dr Durin, are an easy man to please.”

He managed to lift his head and smiled at her. “I like you. That’s really the only thought I can process right now.”

“I know that feeling.” She shifted to face him, leaning in to press her forehead to his. “I like you, too, Frerin.”

He let his fingers trail down along her back, his hands coming to rest on her hips. As his head cleared and the feeling returned to the rest of his body, he said, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Funny.” She tucked a loose dark wave of hair behind her ear and sat back. “Maybe we should clean this mess up.”

“I don't want to move. I really can’t feel my legs. I wasn't kidding when I said it’s been a while.”

“Well, your dry spell—and mine—has come to an end.” She eased off him and grinned as she retrieved her bra and sweater to finish redressing. Then, she moved to the mountain of dishes in the sink and opened the taps.

He watched for a minute, and when he was sure he could trust his still-somewhat wobbly legs, he rose and tugged his jeans back up to his hips and fastened them, then joined her at the sink. 

The room was dark and cozy and Frerin let his eyes close as Elena snuggled up against him, her head tucked against his chest, her arm draped over his hips. SportsCenter played softly on the television, bathing the room in a soft bluish glow. He let his fingers trail along Elena’s thick, dark curls, which were cool and silky to the touch. “What’re you thinking about?”

She trailed her fingertips along his stomach, down to his hip before saying, “I’ve had a really nice time tonight, Frerin.”

“Yeah? Me, too. And I don’t just mean this,” he gestured between them with his free hand, “although it has been amazing.”

She smiled, her eyes glittering in the low light. “Amazing?”

“Oh, yeah. Amazing. Really fucking amazing, actually.”

“I’m glad you think so.” She lifted her head to peer across the room. “I really should be getting home. It’s almost midnight.”

“Why don't you stay?” The words slipped out on their own and for a moment, he inwardly winced. Way to go, jackass. You probably just scared her off.

“Stay?”

“Yeah. Why not? I mean, unless you don’t want to, which I’d understand, of course.”

She smiled at him. “Would you like me to stay?”

Hell, yes!

But he had to play it cool, so he said, “Only if you want to.”

“Frerin.”

“Okay, yes. I’d like it if you did.” The sheets rustled as he shifted to ease over her. “I want to see what you look like in the morning.”

“I’m more troll than woman come sunrise.”

“I find that hard to believe.” He dipped to brush her lips with his, then drew back to add, “You’re fucking gorgeous, Lena.”

“You’re only saying that because I ended your dry spell.”

“Well, that’s true—that you ended it, that is—but I’m saying it because it’s true. I thought so when I came into the room to examine your daughter. And you are, you know.”

“Thank you.” She slid her arms about his waist and it was all he could do to not shiver as she traced her fingernails along his back. Each stroke made his eyelids heavier, and when he kissed her again, her hands came flat against his back and she pulled him against her. 

He rolled carefully, tugging her atop him, his hands skimming along her back, down over the rise of her ass. She broke the kiss to sit back, straddling his hips as she trailed her fingers along his chest, brushing about his nipples to send renewed heat swirling through him. The very sight of her was enough to arouse him, her skin creamy and flawless, her dark hair streaming over her breasts, teasing him with hints and peeks through the ebony strands.

He couldn’t resist, but reached up to trace his fingertip about her left nipple, smiling as it slowly shrank into a tight bead and her eyes grew sleepy and seductive. She caught her full bottom lip between her teeth as he continued tracing that tiny circle, and little by little, he felt a hint of dampness against him. 

With his free hand, he slid into the shadow between her thighs to find her wet already, and his fingers slipped into the silky damp heat, smiling as her breath hitched and her one hand came up to cup her unattended breast. He bit back a groan as she pinched her nipple and slowly rocked against his hand, riding it as she grew wetter still. 

He slipped a finger inside her and stroked, feeling about teasingly for that small spongy swelling along her front wall, smiling as she tightened about his finger and rolled her hips slowly. Her breath hitched. She snagged her bottom lip between her teeth. A soft moan rolled toward him. When he found what he sought, he stroke as gently as he knew how, smiling as she suddenly squeezed him and murmured, “Mmmm…”

Her breath quickened. Her body trembled. She moved faster against him, but before he could push her over the edge, she slid her hand down along her waist, and reached down to gently pull him free, then she whispered, “Hold that thought,” as she lifted his hand to his cock and folded his fingers about himself. “And think of me until I come back.”

Heat flashed through him and he bit back another groan as he tightened his grip on himself and slowly stroked from base to tip, his body tensing as she whispered, “Good boy,” and eased down from the bed to go into the bathroom.

Another stroke and a moan floated to his lips. She hadn’t really even touched him, and he was on the brink of coming already. Everything inside him twisted and tightened as his hand slid up and down faster along his shaft, his pre-cum making each stroke silky and smooth. His breath caught. His body tensed. He teetered on the edge—

“Stop.” She caught his wrist as he was about to go over the edge and he swore softy at the frustration of pent-up, unspent arousal that created a powerful ache that was as delicious as it was maddening. 

“Stop… oh, fuck… Lena…”

“You’ll get what you want,” she purred, leaning over to trace the tip of her tongue along the base of his cock toward the tip. His hips bolted of their own as her mouth closed about him and he twisted a handful of the sheet beneath him as fire ripped though him. 

Then she pulled back, bringing a strangled moan to his lips. Through the haze of fiery arousal and aching need fogging his brain, he heard the soft tear of a condom packet and then let out a hard breath as she pulled free and rolled the condom over his cock. The bed shifted. She straddled him once more.

“Oooh, thank fuck…” His moan almost bounced off the walls and every fiber in his body tightened as he watched his cock slide into her and she seated him fully inside her. A slow, teasing roll of her hips, and his body burst into flames.

She rode him so slowly, he thought he’d lose it entirely, as the sight of her pulling away, and then him slipping back into her was enough to bring him to the edge. She tensed about him, every inch of her silky and hot and delicious and she smiled as he reached to slip hand between them.

He found what he sought, the silken bead of her clit, and worked it slowly, the pad of his finger slipping in a slow circle about it to make her squeeze him tighter. He forced his heavy eyelids to remain open, watching as her breasts undulated with each roll, and she moved faster now as he teased her mercilessly. She grew slick and hot once more, and he wanted to make her squirt again, whispering, “Come for me, beautiful girl…”

“Oh, keep doing that, and I will,” she promised, her hips moving faster. She leaned forward to brace her hands on his chest, riding him faster now, slick and hot and on the very edge with him. He felt it in the way she spasmed about him, pulsing in a delicious rhythm that had him pumping into her as black dots danced before his eyes. She tensed about him, his fingers coated with her climax as she threw her head back and surrendered to the moment, her body pulsing madly about his and squeezing his orgasm free.

He came in a fiery flash, arching hard to go deep as everything inside him turned over and it was his turn to give himself entirely to her. His hands clamped on her thighs, his body surged into hers, and he couldn't hold back his, “Lena!” as he spilled into her. 

“Frerin… oh, God!” Her cry echoed around them and then, as quickly as it happened, she collapsed against him and he caught her easily, cradling her against him as she trembled furiously. 

“Shh… easy, love…” he murmured, her breath hot, hard blasts against the side of his neck. He felt dizzy all over again, not at all sure he wasn't about to pass out as he just held her until she calmed. 

“Oh, my god… that was… I have never felt anything like this… not fucking ever…” she managed to whisper, then brushed the side of his neck with a gentle kiss. 

He smiled into the darkness, tightening his arms about her as he let his eyes close. He couldn't remember the last time he’d felt such peace, such utter, amazing serenity as he felt at that very moment, with this woman in his arms. 

She carefully eased off him and he groaned softly. “I hate this part.”

“I know, but…”

“I know.” He carefully sat up, still not one hundred percent sure he wasn't about to pass out. When he was more confident he could walk, he padded into the bathroom to clean up and when he came back, Elena was stretched out on her stomach, just watching him with a soft smile on her lips.

He came around the far side of the bed and slid in next to her, curving against her as he gently swept her hair away from her neck and leaned over to sweep a kiss along the curve of her shoulder. 

She rolled toward him, snuggling up against him, and tucked her head against his chest. “This was a wonderful Christmas, Frerin.”

“Mmm…” he murmured, tightening his arm about her shoulders. “It really was.”

Her hand came to rest on his stomach, her fingers brushing back and forth, the rhythm making it impossible to keep his eyes open. So, he gave up trying and drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in months. 

[enigmatist17]

Rewind (Pt 3)

Part 1 2

---

He's reading in front of his usual fire when another lifetime of memories hits him out of nowhere, hazel eyes going wide as his book falls with a thud. He can almost still smell the burnt streets of L.A he'd just been standing in moments before, and the blood of millions of demons he'd help slay until the Senior Partners had conceded and kept good on their promise to restore L.A.

So why the hell was he in Sunnydale?

He's a lot smaller than he had been just a few minutes ago, the years of training his body to become the powerhouse it had been at the height of being Angelus having not happened yet. Angel sighed as he started to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, trying to shift through his memories that felt like they were the disturbed ripples on the surface of a pond for some sort of marker. He finally hones in on a memory that had to be new, of Cordelia visiting him with blood, a book, and leaving in tears he didn't understand at the time.

Angel's out the door and heading into town before he blinks.

It takes a few tries to find out where Cordelia is, finally catching sight of her old car parked outside the dress shop she'd mentioned once or twice in a city that seemed so far away now. He could catch glimpses of her inside the store, but not wanting to fluster her in public, Angel decided to sit and wait against her car. In a way, he was glad Cordelia hadn't fought through the hellscape warzone that had been L.A for over a month, unsure if he'd be coherent right now had she been.

Too many people died before it was undone, and those memories were still too fresh to have even begun processing them.

It doesn't matter now, however, Angel fiddling his fingers together nervously as he watch Cordy leave for the night and head towards her car, stopping at the sight of the vampire. She stops for a moment, eyes widening in surprise as Angel pushes himself up and onto his feet, arms open as she quickly covers the distance between them with a sob.

"Took you long enough." She's smaller in his arms than Angel remembered, taking great care not to snap her in half with how hard he was hugging her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he let her pull away slightly.

"Always have to make an entrance." Angel leans into her touch when Cordelia places a hand on his cheek, Cordelia giving him a watery smile as she looks up with an expression he couldn't name.

"I am so glad you're here, I don't think I could handle this on my own, whatever this is anyway." Cordelia laughed nervously, tears flowing down her cheeks as she pressed close, Angel placing a hand over hers as they took a selfish moment to themselves.

There was no prophecy, dead friends and allies, or apocalypse to run around dealing with. Right now, it was just a human and a vampire in a back alleyway, holding each other as they mourned and remembered a life yet to come. Eventually, he can feel Cordelia shivering a bit and sheds the far too short jacket he used to wear in Sunnydale to place it on her after regretfully pulling away.

"Come on, let's get you home where it's warm."

"Not a bad idea." She flashed a smile before digging her keys out of her purse, reaching out and grabbing Angel's arm when he moved to walk away. "Where are you going?"

"...to the passenger side?" He gives an amused smile as Cordelia laughs, letting go and unlocking her door, slipping inside and unlocking the rest of the doors. Angel used his unnatural speed for once to get into the passenger seat before she had a chance to get buckled in, earning another laugh and a squeeze of his hand. The ride is relatively short, as most were in Sunnydale, and Cordelia seemed to realize her mother wasn't home after she parked and headed to the door, Angel right on her heels.

"Come on in Angel, my room's just upstairs." Angel wiped his shoes before stepping inside, taking her hand before she fully extended it in an offering, trailing up and into Cordelia's room. It was what he figured a standard teen's room to look like, Cordelia looking slightly embarrassed as she dropped her purse on her desk. "I'd forgotten what it looked like."

"You'll be out before you know it." Angel offered with a small smile, sitting on her bed with a slight glance out the window.

"I'd already blow this joint and head to L.A, but Wes isn't here yet, and we've gotta kill the mayor too." She shrugged, slipping into some of her more relaxing clothes before joining Angel on the bed, a familiar cool arm slipping around her shoulders. "Oh god, Wes, I don't even know where he is right now."

"Um, I think he's about to graduate from his Academy." Angel frowned, hoping his memory was correct at the moment. "He hadn't been a Watcher long before he was called here."

"That's such a far time from now." Cordelia huffed, Angel chuckling a little at her tone. "I really wish I didn't have to finish high school again, it is so boring."

"I'm sure you can survive, you'll have company." That got a smile, the two just sitting and listening to some kids playing in a yard somewhere in the neighborhood for a while.

"I could move into your mansion, you know, after we do some demo work." Angel blinked at the suggestion, listening to her as he rubbed his thumb up and down her arm. "Mom bailed right after I graduated, she'd probably be thrilled to sign some papers and leave. Oh, and Wes could stay too, though we shou- oh fuck Buffy, I completely forgot you two were a thing right now."

"No, we were just...in a holding pattern, I think." Angel couldn't help but wince at how he'd ended things in a sewer yet got himself together long enough to give Buffy the prom she'd so desperately wanted, that last taste of what could have been.

"We should tell her, maybe Giles too."

"I know, maybe in a day or two." He shrugged, kissing the top of her head. "You've been here alone, nothing is going to change in the next minute."

"You're right." Cordy laughed and pulled away, scooting up and and lying back on her bed with a smile, head propped up on her hand. "Join me?"

"How could I say no?" Kicking off his shoes, the vampire was by her side in a moment, chest rumbling as he purred before the question could leave her lips. They fell into a familiar position with Angel cradling Cordelia like she was made of glass, one of her hands in his hair while the other drew lazy shapes on his chest, pretending for just a moment they were back in the Hyperion. The illusion is shattered about an hour or so later when her phone rings, and with a sigh Cordelia gets up and hurries over, snatching the phone and clearing her throat.

"Hello?" Whoever was on the other end of the line didn't appear to speak, Cordelia's face scrunching up a little bit. "Hello?" Angel slowly sits up when Cordelia lets out a sharp inhale, her grip on the receiver tightening.

Wes?" Wes is that you?" He's behind her before she finishes speaking, her smaller body slumping back as she listens to his pained laughs, each noise a dagger in Angel's heart. The vampire listened to the call that was too short for all parties involved, just holding Cordelia close as she scribbled down his number with a sniffle.

"He'll be here soon, two months and some change." He gently guides Cordy back to her bed, crouching down in front of her and gently kissing her knuckles.

"Why do you think we're back?"

"I don't know, but we'll take it one day at a time, together." He squeezed her hands with a smile, Cordelia relaxing a little before leaning forward to press a gentle kiss against his lips. It didn't remain chaste for too long, Cordelia grabbing his shirt to pull him up and onto her bed, the kiss tasting of salt as they both cried from memories they didn't want to dwell on.

Of what could be now that they had a chance to meet their future head-on.

[mycardinaltruth]

• The Lovers 2021 •

I released you into space, into the void to live your own separate existence, and like a satellite you orbit back to me. Only this time, I don't know that I want you to. I am not the same girl with fresh wild eyes looking at you from across the tarmac. I am not the same girl who traipsed around the lobby emptying out coffee canisters who fantasied about our first touch. I am not the same girl who jumped out of her car and into your arms, to kiss you for the first time. I am not the same girl who fled in the late hours of the night, leaving behind a husband, a home, and her entire life. I am not the same girl who took the elevator up to your room and let you into me. I am not the same girl who drove around aimlessly with nowhere to go, after driving you to the airport.. just so I could spend a moment with you. I am not even the same girl who sat across from you in that diner.. that final time I saw you. Holding onto the air between us, suspended, neither of us able to eat. I remember that feeling of clinging to hope, and at the same time feeling like something was impending. I remember how you opened the door when you realized you left your sunglasses in my car. Sometimes, I wish you'd have forgotten them; for me to find later on, but then I wouldn't have gotten that final kiss. I am not that same girl stuck in the parking lot waiting for you to turn back around. I think I have been a million different versions of her since, and I anticipate being a few more even still. See you taught me something so important, the journey has always been mine. You were a part of it. A wild, firery, breathtaking, and heartbreaking part of my story. I loved you. God how I wish I had gotten to say those words to you. Now I just mourn the girl who never got the chance.

I admit sometimes I daydream about what would happen if we'd bumped into you each other one day. I don't know whether I'd bubble up with fury or wilt with forgiveness. I have come to realize that it doesn't matter either way.  So much has changed, and I don't know that either of us fit into each other's current stories. Yet, a part of me would still love to know if maybe we would. The part that feels like that place where the breeze meets the ripple of the waves...unyielding and natural. Calm, and yet wildly wavering all the same. Like an existence somewhere between. Not still, not storming, either. Just somewhere in the middle place passing by. Clarity. Serenity. Yet anguish, because you know that the tide will shift. The winds will change, and like every moment, it is both brief and eternal all at once.  Perhaps we can always meet in the place where the wind meets the waves. From the gentle summer air caressing the exposed skin of a lake, sending shivers in all directions. To the breath of the wind, pushing the tide forward to lap at the shore and soak the sand. To the immense power of the storm thrashing the water.. till they are both reaching out for one another in a chaotic dance. Pulling themselves apart, just so they may be intertwined.

[officebubble]

A beautiful misunderstanding

Wanda x Female reader

Word count: 1.4k

//

It genuinely amazed you how incompetent some people could be. You didn’t have a problem with miscommunication or lack of understanding but sometimes people were so painfully, wholeheartedly ignorant.

“I don’t know why you thought it was okay to hit on my girlfriend, but that’s not how we do things around here.”

“Jarvis, we aren’t – “

Wanda’s attempt at reiterating Jarvis’ twisted view was quite abruptly cut off by his rucksack slipping off his shoulder and onto the floor as he approached you. You couldn’t exactly remember how you’d gotten into this situation, the details were fuzzy, but what you could say for sure was that Jarvis was pissed.

There had been a party a few nights prior in regard to the celebration of the end of the academic year, school technically hadn’t even ended but everyone was there. The jocks, the nerds (surprisingly) the band kids, the silent kids, and the preppy cheerleaders were all in attendance. You were placed rather uncomfortably between the jocks and the cheerleaders for the entirety of the night and this proved to have been the worst possible position to have been in.

The sloppy kisses and drunken yells of the students nearby hadn’t bothered you all that much, aside from the occasionally odd glance, everyone was pretty respectful. That was until Head cheerleader Wanda Maximoff sauntered her way over to the couch you were lounging on.

It was evident from the way she was swaying and how her red solo cup was practically tipping out of her hands, that she was drunk. The subtle hints of a smirk tugging at her lips was deadly, and the speed in which you averted your gaze had your neck aching even now, but she still caught it.

Her sultry voice flowed through your ears before you could think of an escape plan, “Hey.”

Reluctantly, you had turned your head to acknowledge the girl and the sight you were met with was not for the faint of heart. Her red, plaid skirt was resting at around her mid-thigh, but any movement she made had it riding even higher. Laced stockings encircled her toned legs and every sliver of exposed skin sent an electric jolt through you.

As your eyes travelled higher, you noticed how her white, tight fit crop top left nothing to the imagination; breasts straining against the fabric, and it was at around that point you knew to look away.

She’d no doubt noticed the sudden rush of heat to your cheeks and you reckoned it was the reason why she plopped herself down onto the couch next to you, so close that your thighs were pressed together.

“Hi, Wanda.”

You shivered at her grin, “I didn’t think parties were your thing.”

She wouldn’t know, she’d most probably made the assumption based on the fact that you never spoke, but she wouldn’t know. She spent pretty much all of her time either at cheer practice or lugging around that British giant.

He was practically glued to her hip with the way he followed her around, it wasn’t even endearing; it was pathetic. He was so concerned that someone was going to try and steal his ‘girl’ that he cursed out anyone who came remotely near her, including you.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” The question didn’t bear any hurtful intent, you didn’t want her to think she wasn’t welcome.

She waved you off, messily trying to adjust her position on the couch, “He isn’t my boyfriend. I don’t care where he is.”

You could only nod, you already knew how she felt about him but it aggravated you how she didn’t make an effort to make sure it stuck in his hollow head. This game between the two had been going on since junior year and you honestly couldn’t take another year of it.

“Why does he still say he is then?”

“I don’t know, and I never have the strength to push him away because he’s nice. He can be nice, Y/N, like, real nice.”

“I think the bar is set pretty low, Wands.”

Her drunken giggle wasn’t something you expected to hear, you’d thought for a moment she’d reprimand you for speaking so truthfully, but she didn’t. As the sound rippled from her, you found that a small smile pulled almost imperceptibly at your lips.

Wanda was beautiful. You’d thought it since the moment you first saw her freshman year, but your opinion was meaningless, she didn’t care. She didn’t fit into your social circle just as you didn’t fit into hers. She was popular and smart and the golden glow of the school while you were just a speck of dust in the corner, irrelevant in her world.

“Maybe. I think I lost sight of where the bar is supposed to be anyways.”

Her words made your heart sink a considerable amount, she deserved to be treated right and the fact that she thought Jarvis was doing just that, it settled uncomfortably within you. There was so much you wanted to say, you wanted to tell her that she didn’t deserve a lost puppy trailing behind her all the time, flaunting her and anchoring her to all that is the misery of this town.

She deserved someone who could work in tandem with her, equally. Someone who respected her for whatever she did and whoever she spoke to. You were willing to go above and beyond for her, to be what she needed. But you couldn't. The bitter truth was only planted deeper inside you when she dropped her head heavily against your shoulder with a staggered sigh.

You suppose that was where it all went wrong. The wrong eyes seeing the wrong move at the wrong time.

You faced the consequences the next day at school.

“Listen man, I wasn’t hitting on your girlfriend. It’s actually kinda funny how I’m getting bashed for something you should have been doing.”

“Don’t even try that.”

“Why not? You’re her boyfriend, no?”

You knew that would warrant you an eye roll from Wanda, but it was for the purpose of the argument. The way Jarvis shrunk back slightly and stammered through his words made it all worth it though.

“Well, y-yeah but- “

“But what? Were you too busy trying to get liver disease or was it that brunette from the cheer team you were locking lips with?”

This had the hall going so silent, it was almost comical. From the corner of your eye you could see the aforementioned brunette send Wanda a fearful glance before trying to back out of the crowd.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Even your heart dropped a little at Wanda’s eerily calm reply, Jarvis swivelling to face her with an embarrassed plea, “Come on, Wanda. She doesn't know what she's talking about.”

“Unlike you, Jarvis, Y/N wouldn't lie to me. I know that might be a difficult concept for you to grasp, but some people are actually honest.”

Jarvis stepped forward to try and console Wanda but she held her hand out, daring him to step any closer, “Don’t. Stay away from me, Jarvis.”

Wanda was quick to shoulder through the whispering crowd and before Jarvis could return his attention back to you, you went after her. You silently followed her out to the bleachers where she climbed the set of stairs to the top and flattened out her skirt before sitting down.

You wordlessly sat beside her, looking out at the desolate football pitch, it was unusual seeing it so empty, lifeless and lacking the charisma of the football team.

There was a gentle lull to the breeze that passed over you, the sun shining graciously down onto the two of you and warming you more than the girl next to you already was.

“I’m sorry.”

“You did what I didn’t have the strength to do. He was a dick anyways.”

You chuckled in relief and she smiled fondly at you, humming softly as she scooted closer to you. You got déjà vu to a few nights prior when she leant her head gently on your shoulder, her body slumping with her tired exhale.

“You know, the last time we did this I almost got punched in the face.”

She laughed then, a genuine laugh, and it made your stomach turn in the most delightful way, “You’re an idiot.” Her hand slowly slid over your thigh to slot itself into yours and your large grin almost tore the edges of your mouth, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but, I’m kinda into idiots.”

[pervysenpaix]

Heather - MHA X Black!femreader

Prompt : Why would you ever kiss me ? I'm not even half as pretty. You gave her sweater, "it's just polyester", but you like her better. I wish I were-

Warnings: Hurt/Angst, Unrequited love, Pining, Song Fic, Aged Up characters(3rd year) Sad girl hours --

A/N: Ngl, it's kinda heavy a little bit. I think it's fine but IDK. This idea has been on my mind for a really long time so I just had to get it off my chest. Not proofread but it never is.

I do not own MHA, MHA characters or anything associated with the brand.

©pervysenpaix 2022

Do you still remember ?

That one chilly evening in early December? The two of you had just finished training, something that you'd been looking forward to all day. Wrapped cozily in his letterman, you trotted along side him to your destination.

It was a beautiful night-- a vast expanse of indigo littered by dazzling glimmers of sparkling light. He was pointing out constellations, awestruck by the luminescent stars. A truly magnificent display. Not that you noticed, you were captivated by the man at your side.

There was a lot that had changed about Eijiro Kirishima since first-year. One being his size, he'd hit a massive growth spurt the summer before, now standing at 6'6 with massive muscles that rippled with each movement. Legs so long that it took at least three steps to match one of his long strides. He always took his time though, making sure that you could keep up. His hair had grown too. A long red mane that fell down his back, often pulled up in a bun or two French braids whenever you had the time (always). His face had gotten more mature. Chubby cheeks a thing of the past and now replaced with a jawline sharp enough to cut glass even when he's not in his unbreakable form. Speaking of sharp. Those dazzling pearly whites gleamed in the moonlight every time he grinned down at you. Red orbs scanning the planes of your face in a way that sent butterflies in your belly and tingles in your spine. It made you shiver.

"Are you still cold?" Before you could respond, he'd already thrown his arm around your shoulder and slotted you against his side. The butterflies and tingles turned into backflips and explosions. How is it possible for such a simple gesture to have such a momentous effect on you? Sad really, considering your best friend had eyes for another.

"Kiri!" A melodic voice chirped as the two of you walked through the door and your body stiffened. You felt sick. Stomach churning and bile rising in your throat as your head scanned the room to find the source of your misery.

"Mina." The reverence in his voice was heartbreaking. Said almost like an oath, a prayer. Why didn't he say your name like that?

The pink girl ran over smiling brightly. So bright and blinding that it almost distracted you from the Eijiro pulling away and gravitating towards her. Almost. You watched as they came together. Magnetic attraction palpable and smothering. The cool blue flecks in his vermillion visionaries flickered passionately as he took in her rose-colored flesh-- almost bare in a short pajama set. Perfect body filling it out in a way you never could. As if it were made for her. Just like him. It was hard to breathe.

"I guess I'll head on to bed". An absentminded "mmhmm" was the only response. Dejected, you began to walk towards the elevator. Stewing in a funk of self deprecation. As you pressed the button to your floor, the sound of your name had you whipping your head around. "Yes" Voice a little too hopeful as you watched the red head jog towards you. "Hey, can I have my jacket back? We're about to watch a movie and Mina was feeling a bit cold". What if that was your thirteenth reason? "Of course" Forcing a smile, you relieved yourself of the material and placed it in his arms. "Thanks, Pebble. Wish me luck". A forehead kiss and a wink, and then he was gone. Running back towards her. You wanted to scream and shout, You're going the wrong way, Idiot ! Turn around, but you knew it would be pointless. So you watched him wrap the jacket around her shoulders just as the door closed and the first tear fell.

Months have passed since that night, but it never gets easier. The searing pain that pierces your heart whenever your paths cross. Him and her, holding hands in the halls. Moving together languidly, as if they had no care in the world. Stopping ever so often to chat with a friend and giggling whenever they got the "you're such a cute couple" comments. Smiling softly as he put his arm around her shoulder. Why did it make you feel colder?

To make things worse, you didn't hate Mina. How could you? A slew of charming traits wrapped in a beautiful, bubbly package. Always willing to lend a hand or help a friend. Who's more deserving of a ball of sunshine like Eijiro than her? Could you even argue that you'd be better for him? No, she's a literal angel. That's why guilt consumed you whenever she walked by and you wished she were dead.

"Oi, dumbass. You okay?"

You'd been wandering aimlessly down the halls of 3-A dorms for about an hour. Mind heavy-- filled with thoughts of your bestfriend who'd admitted at the graduation ceremony that he was in love Mina and that they'd planned on moving into an apartment together that was close to both of the agencies that they'd been assigned to. He was absolutely smitten. A goofy grin plastered on his face as he gushed over how perfect she was for him. Too happy to notice the way you winced whenever he said her name.

"S'fine, Bakugo." Not even bothering to look up or say excuse me for walking into him, you attempted to go around his hulking figure, but two warm hands wrapped around your forearms, pulling your back against his chest. "I know you're not fine, (L/N)". Was it his tone? The softness in which he said your name? Was it the heat that radiated of his palms on your bare skin. A soothing sensation. Or maybe you were just tired of holding back, knowing that you'd finally lost. Tomorrow all of you would move out the dorms, starting your adult lives. The two of them would be together and you'd be alone.

Slowly, you turned towards him. Red eyes met brown. Not the familiar Vermilion dusted with flecks of deep blues and purple, but a radiant ruby that reflected gold like the morning sun. It was a beautiful red, but not the red. And the softness in them was astounding, maybe he was channeling your sadness. Did he know what it felt like to pine after someone who's heart belonged to another? Probably not. Only you were that desperate. He was just being a good friend.

You collapsed against him. Body going slack against the firm wall of toned muscle. He lolling into the crook his neck, wetting his skin with freshly fallen tears. He blushed when he felt your plush lips moving against his skin, whispering your confession in a voice so small that only he and God could hear.

" I wish I were Mina".

Sweeties: @xogabbiexo , @yo-nn, @bookwormsenpai, @nasty-quillz, @tenyaiidasslut, @dabilovesme, @namjoonswifeyy, @blkchxrryblyss, @7inaa, @not-your-damsel, @simpliheavenli, @bunnxie, @38riku, @presidentmonica

[acourtofquestions]

"I didn't break," she said quietly. His heart cracked at the words. "I didn't tell them anything."

She didn't say it for praise, to boast. But rather to tell him, her consort, of where they stood in this war. What their enemies might know.

"I knew you wouldn't," he managed to say.

"She ... she tried to convince me that this was the bad dream. When Cairn was done with me, or during it, I don't know, she'd try to worm her way into my mind." She glanced around the cave, as if she could see the world beyond it. "She spun fantasies that felt so real..." She bobbed under the surface. Perhaps she'd needed the cooling water of the lake to be able to hear her own voice again; perhaps she needed the distance between them so she could speak these words. She emerged, slicking back her hair with a hand. "They felt like this."

Half of him didn't want to know, but he asked, "What sort of illusions?"

A long pause. "It doesn't matter now."

Too soon to push—if ever.

Then she asked softly, "How long?"

It took the entirety of his three centuries of training to keep the devastation, the agony for her, from his face. "Two months, three days, and seven hours."

Her mouth tightened, either at the length of time, or the fact that he'd counted every single one of those hours apart.

She ran her fingers through her hair, its strands floating around her in the water. Still too long for two months to have passed. "They healed me after each ... session. So that I stopped knowing what had been done and what was in my mind and where the truth lay." Erase her scars, and Maeve stood a better chance at convincing her none of this was real. "But the healers couldn't remember how long my hair was, or Maeve wanted to confuse me further, so they grew it out." Her eyes darkened at the memory of why, perhaps, they had needed to regrow her hair in the first place.

"Do you want me to cut it back to the length it was when I last saw you?" His words were near-guttural.

"No." Ripples shivered around her. "I want it so I can remember."

What had been done to her, what she'd survived and what she had protected.

Even if the woman treading water before him didn't seem to have vengeance on her mind. Not so much as a hint of the burning rage that fueled her.

He didn't blame her. Knew it would take time, time and distance, to heal the internal wounds. If they could ever really heal at all.

But he'd work with her, help in whatever way he could. And if she never returned to who she had been before this, he would not love her any less.

Aelin dunked her head, and when she emerged, she said, "Maeve was about to put a Valg collar around my neck. She left to retrieve it." The scent of her lingering fear drifted toward him, and Rowan lurched a step closer to the water's edge. "It's why I—why I got away. She had me moved to the army camp for safekeeping, and I ..." Her voice stalled, yet she met his stare. Let him read the words she could not say, in that silent way they'd always been able to communicate. Escape wasn't my intention.

"No, Fireheart," he breathed, shaking his head, horror creeping over him. "There ... there was no collar."

She blinked, head angling. "That was a dream, too?"

His heart cracked as he struggled for the words. Made himself voice them. "No—it was real. Or Maeve thought it was. But the collars, the Valg presence ... It was a lie that we crafted. To draw Maeve out, hopefully away from you and Doranelle."

Only the faint lapping of water sounded. "There was no collar?"

Rowan lowered himself to his knees and shook his head. "I—Aelin, if I'd known what she'd do with the knowledge, what you'd decide to do-"

He might have lost her. Not from Maeve or the gods or the Lock, but from his own damned choices. The lie he'd spun.

Aelin drifted beneath the surface again. So deep that when the flare happened, it was little more than a flutter. The light burst from her, rippling across the lake, illumining the stones, the slick ceiling above. A silent eruption. His breathing turned ragged. But she swam toward the surface again, light streaming off her body like tendrils of clouds. It had nearly vanished when she emerged.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say. Again, that angle of the head. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He did, though. He'd added to her terror, her desperation. He'd— "If you had not planted that lie for Maeve, if she had not told me, I don't think we'd be here right now," she said.

He tried to rein in the twisting in his gut, the urge to reach for her, to beg for her forgiveness. Tried and tried.

She only asked, "What of the others?" She didn't know-couldn't know how and why and where they'd all parted ways. So Rowan told her, as succinctly and calmly as he could.

When he finished, Aelin was quiet for long minutes.

She stared out into the blackness, the rippling of her treading water the only sound. Her body had nearly lost that freshly forged glow.

Then she pivoted back toward him. "Maeve said you and the others were in the North. That you'd been spotted by her spies there. Did you plant that deception for her, too?"

He shook his head. "Lysandra has been thorough, it seems."

Aelin's throat bobbed. "I believed her." It sounded like a confession, somehow.

So Rowan found himself saying, "I told you once that even if death separated us, I would rip apart every world until I found you." He gave her a slash of a smile. "Did you really believe this would stop me?'

She pursed her mouth, and at last, those agonizing emotions began to surface in her eyes. "You were supposed to save Terrasen."

"Considering that the sun shines, I'd say Erawan hasn't won yet. So we'll save it together."

He didn't let himself think of the final cost of destroying Erawan. And Aelin seemed in no hurry to discuss it, either, as she said, "You should have gone to Terrasen. It needs you."

"I need you more." He didn't balk from the stark honesty roughening his voice. "And Terrasen will need you, too. Not Lysandra masquerading as you, but you."

A shallow nod. "Maeve raised her army. I doubt it was only to guard me while she was away."

He'd put the thought aside, to consider later. "It might just be to shore up her defenses, should Erawan win across the sea."

"Do you truly think that's what she plans to do with it?"

"No," he admitted. "I don't."

And if Maeve meant to bring that army to Terrasen, to either unite with Erawan or simply be another force battering their kingdom, to strike when they were weakest, they had to hurry. Had to get back. Immediately. His mate's eyes shone with the same understanding and dread.

Aelin's throat bobbed as she whispered, "I'm so tired, Rowan."

His heart strained again. "I know, Fireheart."

He opened his mouth to say more, to coax her onto land so he might at least hold her if words couldn't ease her burden, but that's when he saw it.

A boat, ancient and every inch of it carved, drifted out of the gloom.

"Get back to shore." The boat wasn't drifting—it was being tugged. He could just barely make out two dark forms slithering beneath the surface.

Aelin didn't hesitate, yet her strokes remained steady as she swam for him. She didn’t balk at the hand he extended, and he wrapped his cloak around her while the boat ambled past.

But Aelin turned toward them, hair dripping onto the stone at her bare feet. Half a thought from her could have had her dry, yet she made no move to do so. "We're being hunted."

"We know that," Lorcan shot back, and were it not for the fact that Aelin was currently allowing him to rest a hand upon her shoulder, Rowan would have thrown the male into the lake.

But Aelin's features didn't shift from that graveness, that unruffled calm. "The only way to the sea is through these caves." It was an outrageous claim.

"And I suppose they told you that?" Lorcan's face was hard as granite.

"Watch it," Rowan snarled. Fenrys indeed bared his teeth at the dark-haired warrior, fur bristling. But Aelin said simply, "Yes." Her chin didn't dip an inch. "The land above is crawling with soldiers and spies. Going beneath them is the only way."

Elide stepped forward. "I will go." She cut a cold glance toward Lorcan. "You can take your chances above, if you're so disbelieving." Lorcan's jaw tightened, and a small part of Rowan relished seeing the delicate Lady of Perranth fillet the centuries-hardened warrior with a few words. "Considering the potential pitfalls of the situation is wise."

"We don't have time to consider," Rowan cut in before Elide could voice the retort on her tongue. "We need to keep moving. Gavriel stalked forward to study the moored boat and what seemed to be bundles of supplies on its sturdy planks. "How will we navigate our way, though?"

"We'll be escorted," Aelin answered.

"And if they abandon us?" Lorcan challenged. Aelin leveled unfazed eyes upon him.

"Then you'll have to find a way out, I suppose." A hint-just a spark-of temper belied those calm words. There was nothing else to debate after that.

And they had little to pack. The others gave Aelin privacy to dress by the fire while they inspected the boat, and when his mate emerged again, clad in boots, pants, and various layers beneath her gray surcoat, the sight of her in clothes from Mistward was enough to make his gut clench.

No longer a naked, escaped captive. Yet none of that wickedness, that joy and unchecked wildness illuminated her face.

The rest of their party waited on the boat, seated on the benches built into its high-lipped sides. Fenrys and Elide both sat as seemingly far from Lorcan as they could get, Gavriel a golden, long-suffering buffer between them.

Rowan lingered at the shore's edge, a hand extended for Aelin while she approached. Each of her steps seemed considered—as if she still marveled at being able to move freely. As if still adjusting to her legs without the burden of chains.

"Why?" Lorcan mused aloud, more to himself. "Why go to these lengths for us?"

He got his answer—they all did—a heartbeat later. Aelin halted a few feet away from the boat and Rowan's outstretched hand. She turned back toward the cave itself. The Little Folk peeked from those birch branches, from the rocks, from behind stalagmites. Slowly, deeply, Aelin bowed to them. Rowan could have sworn all those tiny heads lowered in answer.

A pair of bony grayish hands rose above a nearby rock, something glittering held between them, and set the object on the stone.

Rowan went still. A crown of silver and pearl and diamond gleamed there, fashioned into upswept swan's wings

"The Crown of Mab," Gavriel breathed. But Fenrys looked away, toward the looming dark, his tail curling around him.

Aelin staggered a step closer to the crown. "It—it fell into the river."

Rowan didn't want to know how she'd encountered it, why she'd seen it fall into a river. Maeve had kept her sisters' two crowns under constant guard, only bringing them out to be displayed in her throne room on state occasions. In memory of her siblings, she'd intoned. Rowan had sometimes wondered if it was a reminder that she had outlasted them, had kept the throne for herself in the end.

The grayish hand slipped over the rock's edge again and nudged the crown in silent gesture. Take it.

"You want to know why?" Gavriel softly asked Lorcan as Aelin strode for the rock. Nothing but solemn reverence on her face. "Because she is not only Brannon's Heir, but Mab's, too."

A throwback to her great-great-grandmother, Maeve had taunted her. Who had inherited her strength, her immortal lifespan.

Aelin's fingers closed around the crown, lifting it gently. It sparkled like living moonlight between her hands.

My sister Mab's line ran true, Elide claimed Maeve had said on the beach. In every way, it seemed.

But Aelin made no move to don the crown while she approached him once more, her gait steadier this time. Trying not to dwell on the unbearable smoothness of her hand as it wrapped around his, Rowan helped her aboard, then climbed in himself before freeing the ropes tethering them to the shore.

Gavriel went on, awe in every word, "And that makes her their queen, too."

Aelin met Gavriel's gaze, the crown near-glowing in her hands. "Yes," was all she said as the boat sailed into the darkness.

[railroad-migraine]

You live!! Yay!!

"Promise?"

"Promise."

With changeling! Reader x ashton bc with fae, promises are very serious. Only you write him the way I love to read him~🌷

Anonymous asked: Can you please write a 'I'm yours. No returns.' For the ship prompt with ashton? I feel like this suits them a lot

Also inspired by this ask from @trippygalaxy

Notes: 1.1k words. Established but new relationship. Fluff. Reader is a non-specific fae race. A combination of prompts helped me out of my writer's block and lack of motivation. Enjoy my darlings x

Song Rec: Take On Me - 2017 acoustic by a-ha

~ Poet

We're Allowed To Be Foolish

-> Ashton Greymoore x GN!Reader

"Right," Ashton says when he claps his hands together, the soft sound melding with with the crackle of the fire behind them. "The children are finally asleep, so that means us adults can finally relax."

Imogen has finally settled, no evidence of any nightmares with her back supported by a tree stump, Laudna's head leaning on the sorcerer's shoulder. A spare cloak is tucked under her chin and covers both their laps and legs. Meanwhile, Orym's form is engulfed entirely by Fearne, having no need for a blanket when he has a faun and her fur to keep warm. Soft snores come from that cuddle pile softly, one of her hands on Orym's back, the other on Mister's. Old man Chetney, ever so stealthy, lies a few feet from Fearne, back to the fire and a small shiv gripped in his fist. His ears twitch when the odd twig snaps and causes a loud spark. The flames seem to lick higher and brighter closest to where FCG is stationed for the night. Their metal glows and reflects like a warped mirror found in shadow.

It's calm - a rare thing when on the road and picking up errands and quests here and there. A travelling band of adventures, ready and eager to taste what's on offer.

You crack a smile from where you sit in the grass, knees pulled up to your chest and a threadbare scarf draped over your shoulders. "We're just on watch, Ash. It's no different from any other night."

"That's where you are wrong, my fair-looking fae," they smirk as they crumble to the ground at your side and pass you your waterskin. You take a grateful sip, but nearly choke when the scarf is suddenly and harshly tugged off from your shoulders. The thin fabric hangs loose when Ashton slings it around himself. The smug bastard. You scowl and pull it back enough so that there's enough material to share, ignoring his cheeky face in the corner of your eye. It isn't even a cold night, but Ashton's body heat is bleeding through the scarf so effortlessly that without it you might just shiver. "Tonight just so happens to mark two months since our first shared watch together."

You are about to protest, but words fail you as soon as your memory does. Lips parted and eyebrow quirked, you simply offer: "I... that doesn't seem right. Surely I would've remembered such a thing."

"Ouch. That hurts. Stings even. And I thought you would be the sentimental one." They lightly punch your shoulder, a disgustingly sweet platonic gesture, deepening your frown because you want nothing more than a kiss instead. But that can be asked for later. "It's no biggie. Really. It's not like anything of significance occurred that night." He pauses. "Certainly not anything to do with us, up to our knees in ice cold water, fishing for a special rock after someone so elegantly threw in the river-"

"Chet trying to use the Sending Stone as a skipping stone! How could I forget?" you chuckle, face warm at the memory.

It had been an accident - you'll agree with Chetney that the magical item does look deceptively mundane. You had been on watch with the gnome, camped near a stream that seemed to grow more powerful as the night went on. Bored out if his mind, he turned to tossing stones into the water until watch was over. The ripples made in the beginning were nothing special, until the water seemed to glow and sparkle, as if having swallowed something magic. Long story short, Chetney was far too short to go wading in the deeper waters with you to look for the Sending Stone.

Luckily for you, Ashton had been only resting their eyes and was more than willing to help you while Chetney fretted from the shore.

If the barbarian hadn't been there to ground you, the waters might have swept you away into the darkness when you swiped the stone from the rushing current.

Your heart aches a little. The only tie to Dorian the party had left was nearly lost that night. You can only hope that the bard has since found his way safely with his daft brother since he left. Ashton brings you back to the present, nodding enthusiastically and laughing at the memory. You hush them, giggling under your breath so not to disturb fast asleep Bell's Hells scattered around the camp. "You do remember, I knew it!"

Things work differently in the Feywild. So much simpler from your perspective, but awe-inspiring to the friends you've made on your travels - Fearne being a comforting and familiar exception. Time is a weird soup, a mantra, a phrase she brings up whenever you think of what might have been. If you had stepped outside of that portal ten seconds sooner, you might have crossed paths with Ashton even earlier.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, reaching out to touch their face. He stills upon contact, leaning into your hand while your thumb traces a line of gold filigree running from his temple to his cheekbone.

A blurred reminder of a time before you came to Emon. A time before you could save their ass when they got in trouble.

How can someone be so strong, resilient, and yet so fragile and tender? You manage to find your voice, distant and faraway, mumbling more so to yourself rather than to Ashton. "You're not what I thought you'd be like."

He bares his teeth in a crooked grin. There's a hint of approval in his eyes when they flick between your own, trailing briefly down to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. "Mean and scary?" His voice lowers to a purr - for the sake of the party or your own, you don't know. He makes a sharp movement, a motion as if going to bite your thumb on his cheek. Instead he kisses the corner of your mouth.

That's an understatement.

"Yeah."

"Yeah well..." Ashton muses, leaning back on their hands and glancing up at the clear sky overhead. "I thought you'd be kinda mean and scary too. I mean, a fae? Clearly not from this part of the world, a complete enigma with wicked magic..."

"Me?" you grin, tilting your head in mild disbelief. The idea seemed bizarre at first. Ashton - the barbarian whose head has slag glass holding back a galaxy, who is decked out in leather and wields a hammer engraved with "FUCK OFF" - was intimidated by you. "You thought I was the scary one?"

It's laughable, enough that you begin to ignore your stiff back and sore limbs from travel. Ashton huffs out an amused breath of air. He looks at you, a playful glare darkening his face. "Terrifying." He must not like the thoughtful expression on your face, so he leans forward a little, craning his neck to look at you properly. "Hey."

"Hey."

"... I'm yours. No returns. No take backs."

Emotion wells up in your throat. You try to swallow it down, thick with hesitation. "Promise?"

"Promise. Cross my heart." He drags a finger over his chest, a simple gesture of innocent trust in you that ignites you to your very core. "Hope to die."

"Hm..." you croon, pinching their chin and nudging their face closer. "That's quite a bold oath you just made there, Ash. You're lucky I'm not a fae that would take advantage of your foolishness."

You feel him smile against your lips. "As the designated adults on watch tonight, I think we're allowed to be a bit foolish."

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

School Nurse

@letstalkaboutfandomsbaby led me to yet another 2D man that I want to get wrecked by

How would a school nurse react to Hwajin’s presence? Dabauchery will ensue.

AN: this started out as a short little drabble, turned into a long smutty mess that I finally rangled in with romance because… after care. As a nurse I was getting to into the logistics of the pencil stab

TW: smut, degradation, praise kink, breeding kink, power exchange, mild wound description (pencil stab), sex in a nurses office, oral sex

NO MINORS

Hwajin knew you would look good on your knees. You had a bratty, stubborn nature that he wanted to overpower. He thought you were too gentle with trouble makers. When he told you this, you argued that it was your job as a school nurse to take care of all the students.

How was it that you were so hostile with him but when it came to even the worst students you were so gentle. It irritated him. You actively avoided him. Maybe he wouldn't care if he didn't find you so damn adorable. Thoughts of you kept him company late at night.

Even when he forced you to take a baton after he saw a student get in your face yelling. The only person you used it against was him. Apparently you wouldn't allow him to pull students out of your office regardless of their offense.

He was shocked to learn that few students ever bothered you. The worst offenders would constantly make advances at you and since you would have his head, he disciplined them only once you were out of range.

And you were equally irate. He treated you like a child when you tried to present him with research that aggression towards children under the age of 18 was just as detrimental as ignoring their bad behavior. You weren't against addressing the students inappropriate behavior, but the number of visits to your office had tripled upon his arrival.

It become rare that schools had a nurse on campus, barely coming back in to practice following the hands off policy. And at the most part you were mainly treating the faculty and the more unlucky students. If the Ministry of Education wanted to bring in people like Na, would you even have a job much longer?

/

"What are you doing here? I'm not harboring any students," You hissed as the warden entered your office.

"If I remember correctly, I'm here to oversee the whole school. That includes you. Besides I actually need medical help."

Hwajin turned the lock on the door before unbuttoning his shirt. He turned around to show you a shallow hole between his shoulder blades. You tried to keep the blush from creeping on to your face as you scanned his muscular body.

Apparently a student surprised him by sinking a pencil into his skin.

"Violence breeds violence," You chided when the realization hit. "Oh god, did you kill the student?"

You were truly alarmed. He took slight offense to that question. He wasn't a great guy but he wasn't going to kill someone on the job.

"Just give me something to bandage this up," he rolled his eyes.

You motioned for him to sit on the medical table but of course he had to make things difficult, choosing to straddle a chair instead. In spite of his protests that he could take care of things himself you pulled on a pair of gloves.

"Don't be such a pain, Mr. Na. There's no way you can properly clean what's on your back."

You probed around the wound that was already angry and red. The blood has begun to dry. Trying not to cause unnecessary pain you attempted to visually assess the bed of the wound for any debris that may lead to infection.

Instinctively he howled in pain as you began to clean.

"Will you just put a bandaid over it so I can get back to my job?"

You had to admit you were getting some sick satisfaction from this. The wound was clean and you applied an anti bacterial ointment but it was in a location where the skin tended to pull and stretch so you were sure it would bleed throughout the day-

"Are you smoking in my office?"

Hwajin gave you a cheeky grin before blowing smoke toward your face.

The nerve. In retaliation you flicked the inflamed skin while avoiding the actual wound.

"Ouch, you're cute when you get angry," Na laughed.

Your cheeks were scorching, "Okay Mr Na, you're all wrapped up. Stop by at the end of the day so I can change the bandage."

He winked while buttoning up shirt, "I knew you liked seeing me."

"Out." You hissed.

As he walked down the halls he chuckled to himself. He couldn't wait for you to submit to him.

/

Through out the day your mind wandered to Hwajin. Him sitting in front of you, shirtless and rippled with muscle. The parts of his skin left unscarred were so soft compared to his attitude. You wondered if his palms were as soft or were they were rough and calloused.

As if on cue the man walked into your office, catching you during one of your fantasies. Was it already the end of the day? Sure enough, the clock showed school let out half an hour ago.

Just like before he secured the door and stripped off his shirt. The bandage wasn't soaked, but it did need to be changed. The day warped your work and some of the tape was lifted away from his skin.

This time politely in the chair, he hummed as you removed and replaced the soiled bandage.

"Starting tomorrow you should just leave it open to air. This is really just to keep you getting your blood on your shirt. If you start thinking you have an infection go to the hospital." You turned around to discard your gloves.

As you turned back, you bumped into Hwajin Na. He smiled down at you and ruffled your hair, "Thanks, nurse, you took such good care of me. You'll have to let me thank you."

He lowered his mouth to your whisper in your ear, "what should I do for you?"

Your were in a losing position, you didn't want to make eye contact but you couldn't stare straight ahead, he still wasn't dressed and it was too overwhelming. You settled on looking down toward his feet.

You quickly snapped your eyes back up when you notice a bulge trying to push past his pants.

"Uh, no need to thank me. It's my job." You stepped back against the wall, at least giving you a bit more space.

Hwajin placed his arms against the wall so he could close the space between you.

"What's wrong? You're flushed. Let's see if you have a fever." He pressed forehead against your. "You feel a bit warm, but not worrisome."

You stammered, "Uh, Mr Na, it's late so we should probably wrap up."

"Mr Na," he mocked you. "Why do you do that? We're both adults, you can call me Hwajin."

Your eyes darted around the room. Maybe you were being punked. Was he testing you?

"It's respectful, it would be rude to call you by your first name."

He brushed a stand of hair behind your shoulder, pleased with your response.

"Well I can think of other titles you could call me that I would enjoy much more."

You were struggling between your desire and your fear of losing your job. Surely he knew what he was doing to you.

Of course he knew, the gleam in his eyes made that clear.

"Well, it's pretty late and I don't know about you but I'm tired after today so I'll see you tomorrow."

He dropped his hands and you took that as the end of his teasing. But instead he hoisted you against him, grasping the back of your thighs.

"My poor little nurse, I've kept you so busy. How about you lay down and let me help you relax."

"Hwajin, put me down," You smacked his shoulder. Listening, he sat you down the cot you constantly sanitized. In spite of what you were saying you allowed him to crawl on top of you.

"Hmm, now you use my first name, little nurse? And here I thought you were respectful," he nipped at your ears.

You shivered.

"Well pick one," You groaned. "First, no last name, then no first name. What's left."

His tongue darted across your neck while began tearing at your clothes, "how about you just be a good girl and call me 'Sir'."

At this point the primal part of your brain took over as you pathetically began to rub against his thigh. Your Irrational brain didn't need a job, it just needed this man to fuck her.

Nearly all your clothes were discarded to the floor as his mouth began to tease your breasts. Your hand tangled in his hair when sink his teeth into your tender flesh.

"Talk to me baby," he sighed. "Use your words, ask for what you want."

You lay out a whimper and tugged at belt loops, "fuck me."

He pinched your in thigh, "Now that's not using your manners. Am I going to need to teach you to behave?"

You mumbled a response that he could barely hear, eliciting another pinch to your thigh.

You huffed, "fine, please fuck me, Sir"

Pleased with your response he tugged your panties to the side, stroking your soaked pussy with his middle knuckle.

"Atta girl. You're so fucking wet for me. How long have you been waiting to be my little slut?"

He slid one finger inside of you with ease, arching you back as moved inside you. You were trying to fumble at his the button of his pants but he pushed your hands off him.

With a growl he removed his hands and your underwear from your body, "Not yet, although I'm flattered how desperate you are for me. Turn over, ass in the air, show me what's mine."

You were happy to obey, sliding into one of your favorite positions.

"You're not be very nice, sir," You teased. "You could at least remove your pants."

His hands came down hard on your ass causing you to cry out in pain and pleasure.

"Watch what you say, unless you like being disciplined. You already know I don't tolerate disobedience. And as much as enjoy your screams, don't forget that just because school is over doesn't mean everyone is gone."

You bite your tongue as he spanked you again. He certainly wasn't holding back. But he was right, there were after school clubs and some teachers stayed as late as 8. His fingers found their way inside your warmth again, fluid dripping from your aching cunt. You had adjust to his rhythm of spanking when his fingers were at their deepest. You felt so close to release. When he withdrew from you yet again.

You let out a frustrated groan until his hand made firm contact with your pussy. Once, twice, three times produce a wet spanking sound. You couldn't hold in your tears, thankful you were a glutton for pain.

"You still with me, princess?" He cooed, getting off the bed. You nodded. "Good girl, hold that position for me just a bit longer."

You nodded again, words evading your mind. You appreciated the coolness produced by the cot. Hwajin repositioned the pillow that had fallen on the floor and removed his belt.

Standing next to you on the bed he finally directed you into another position. He helped you stand, barefoot on the linoleum floor. You were held against his chest as you gathered your bearings.

He nuzzled against your hair, "I'm not a gentle man, if you need to stop at any time you say so okay. And that's an order. Can you do that for me princess?"

You told him you would as he helped you sink your knees to the pillow. He ruffled your hair again, telling you how good you looked. Finally he unzipped his pants, his erect dick right in front of you.

"Look at me."

You complied, tearing your ways away from his cock.

"If you want my dick then prove it. Open up that pretty mouth of yours."

He grabbed you by the hair, guiding your lips his shiny tip. Your tongue circled around him, admiring his taste. You weren't usually self conscious but you couldn't help but be nervous you'd disappoint him. As you began wrap your lips around him, Hwajin inhaled sharply. He gave your hair a gentle tug.

"Eyes on me. Good. You're doing so well. All the way to the base, baby."

You were almost there when there was a knock at your door. Hwajin kept his grip firm on you, instead of allowing you to pull back he shoved his throbbing dick down your throat and began fucking your mouth while putting a finger to his lips. He was smirking like the devil. Your throat constricting in protest.

"Excuse me, nurse," one of the school kids called. Knocking again.

"Fuck," Na muttered as he released into your mouth. Tears spilled over your eyes as you struggled to swallow.

The nock persisted, "hellooo? Come on I need to pick up a physical form."

"She's busy, fuck off."

As the footsteps faded down the hall Na released you from his grasp. He couldn't help but laugh at you when you pouted up at him, your were glistening and your cheeks were rosy and puffy. God, next time he swore he would take a photo of you on your knees after sucking his dick.

"Really, you had to open up your loud mouth," You whined. "You could've just pretended no one was here."

He shrugged in response, helping you off the floor.

This time on the cot you were both undressed. Hwajin sucked and bite on your neck. You nudged him off telling him he was gonna leave a mark.

"You're telling me I can't mark up my little whore?"

"Just not where students can see."

That was fair enough, there were other places he'd rather leave bruises. Between your thighs. Your stomach. Your breasts. Proof that he had made you his.

He wouldn't bite too rough, not want to scare you off. He planned on making more of these moments with you. You were better in person. Exceeding his late night fantasies.

Finally he began to slide his cock inside you, your pussy searing with pleasure at his size. It was a struggle to control the volume of your moans.

"Does my little slut like that? You want me to stuff you?"

"Please," You cried, needing more or his touch. "Please don't stop, Sir. Please let me cum on your dick."

Hwajin began to pound harder into your tight pussy, admiring how your body reacted to the sheer force of him. Each time he snapped his hips against you, your lush breasts, along with the rest of your body, followed with an intoxicating jiggle.

You were exactly what he needed and he wished to consume you. His mind flashed to images of you tied up and exposed for him, placing all of your trust in him. Or he could snap a pretty collar around your neck and tie you to the bed with a leash, you would be begging him to fuck you like a bitch.

"Tell me need me," he growled. "That no one else can fuck you into submission and make you dumb with pleasure. Your mine and I don't share."

Tears rushed down your face as a mixture of pain and desire burst the pressure in your core. You clenched around him, babbling what he instructed you to and meaning every word.

The tightness of your orgasm shocked both you and Hwajin. Paired along with your heat pushed the man past his limit, releasing his thick cum inside of you. Even through the near blinding pleasure of his own release Hwajin felt a moment of worry, he hadn't meant to pour himself inside of you, he was fully aware he wasn't wearing protect and had gotten your consent.

Between your gasps and moans you were were repeating a breathy thank you. Unless he had died and gone to Heaven You were actually begging him for more of his seed. Crying out that you needed him to stuff you full. The man nearly confessed his love for you on the spot.

However he maintained his composure. Pressing closer to you and guiding you through the high of your orgasm.

He combed his fingers through your hair, whispering praises and reassurance. Telling you to relax into him, he wasn't going anywhere. Finally your grip on him relaxed as a gluttonous smile graced your lips.

Na propped himself up next to you with his elbow. His other hand cupping your face.

You looked at Hwajin, "This doesn't mean I'm going to ignore your behavior towards the students."

"You know, seeing you protective over a bunch of snot nosed punks makes me want to fuck you until your nine months pregnant. It would keep you out of my hair while you were stuck waddling around home safe and sound. Win-win."

You gawked at him. Joking that you had yet to see any paternal instincts from him.

"I am actually great with children so long as their raised right. Like hell I'd let my kids turn out like these delinquents."

The two of you bantered back and forth while re-dressing. It was dark by the time you exited the school. Na was lighting a cigarette the minute he was past the schools threshold. You began to tell him goodnight where the two of you should naturally part ways but Hwajin caught you by the wrist, a confused expression thrown your way.

“Where do you think you're going? I'm not done with you yet," he said, cigarette hanging from his mouth. You were about to respond when he cut you off. "Round two will be so much better in my bed. You'll be lucky if You leave my place in time for work tomorrow. But we should probably feed you first. I gotta take care of my little nurse."

[laikuh]

Happy mom fucker Monday! (there’s still time somewhere lol) do you think Sam pretends to be asleep when Mary creeps into his room at night and touches him inappropriately or does he confront her?

i hope it's okay that i answer this as a little ficlet! the idea came to me as i read your ask, and i figured i'd indulge <3 also it's definitely still monday where i am! lol, you are good to go!

cw: brief mention of underage samdean (sam is 17) and brief mention of pre-series deanjohn. dubious consent between sam and mary.

--

It's happening again. Sam instinctively wakes to the weight of another person sitting on his bed. He knows who it is even before she speaks.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," says Mary, a hand coming to rest on his thigh feather-light. "I wish I could fix this."

Sam doesn't stir, hoping he's maintaining the illusion of sleep. He knows how this might go, so long as he's patient. So long as he doesn't spook his mother before she makes her decision. Before she gives in to the urges he knows she harbors.

"I don't understand you," he hears her whisper. Her hand trails up to his hip. "I don't understand what's become of this family."

Sam shifts, keeping his eyes closed, testing the waters. If Mary's going to act, the movement won't scare her off. But if she's going to flee, she'll take that as her sign to go.

She doesn't move. It's going to be one of those nights.

Sam tries not to flinch or to shiver as her cold hand slips under his shirt to rest on his waist. Goosebumps break out across his skin, rippling out from her point of contact. It's a sublime sort of torture to feel her touching him this way. To anticipate what might be coming next.

He isn't surprised when Mary lays down behind him, the ice of her touch temporarily gone before she repositions herself fully. She's even under the covers with him, and when she presses flush against his back he's certain he can feel the peaks of her nipples through her thin nightgown and his even thinner shirt. He tells himself that can't be right, but he wants to believe.

This time, when Mary's hand rests inside his clothes, she slips it down into his pajama pants. Her palms sits at his hip under the fabric, and he wonders if there's any way to tell how he's hardened since she's gotten into his bed with him.

"What have you done to me?" Mary asks as her thumb caresses his skin. "I'm not acting like myself."

Sam remembers how he felt the first time he saw his father touch his brother. The first time his brother touched him. The shock of it. Seventeen years old and desperate for some action, only to find satisfaction in the arms of his brother, to see true love in the eyes of his father as he fucked Dean into the creaking motel mattress. It'd been disorienting. Confusing. Arousing. It'd taken some getting used to, but once he had, he couldn't have imagined anything better.

Mary would grow out of this hesitance. She'd come to appreciate the bond they all shared. She just needs time.

Sam has to fight the urge to say something to her. To take her hand in his own and guide it to his cock. He knows she'll get there--she had before--he just has to wait. Mary has to do it in her own time. She's getting closer, though. She presses impossibly closer to Sam before letting her hand drop down off his thigh and closer to his groin. He can feel the brush of her finger tips against his pubic hair. She must know that he isn't asleep for how quickly his breath is coming to him.

"Sammy," Mary sighs as her fingers graze the swollen head of his cock. "I love you so much."

The grip of her hand on him is still too careful to be called strictly pleasurable, but Sam doesn't care. He sighs into her touch and thrusts lightly into her fist. Mary doesn't take her hand away. He figures then that the jig is up, and doesn't bother fighting his desires.

Her hand is small under his. "Tighter," he says as he models what he likes for her. "I won't break."

Mary doesn't say a word, but her grip around his dick takes the instruction. She begins to move her hand up and down his girth, and Sam lets his hips fuck into her fingers, let's the blanket fall away, and finally lets his eyes open so he can look down and see the outline of his mother's illicit hand-job through his pants.

He doesn't last long--he knew he wouldn't--coming after only a few short minutes of Mary's ministrations. She manages to time it right, by either coincidence or design, to catch his cum in her fingers. Sam isn't sure how she's going to react to that; it's never happened before. But when he turns to watch her face, to gauge her disgust or regret or desire, he finds Mary with her eyes squeezed shut and her legs splayed open, her cum-covered fingers circling around her clit and her cunt with abandon.

This, Sam notes, is new.

As with Sam, it doesn't take very long for Mary to orgasm, and Sam watches her body tremble as the first wave of pleasure overtakes her.

"Sam," she breathes as she fingers herself, Sam's cum slipping inside a place it was never supposed to go.

He hopes for once she'll stay. That something will have changed in their unconventional coupling, and Mary will finally be ready to hold her son how he wants to be held by her. But Sam's wish isn't to be. Mary waits only long enough to catch her breath before she gets out the bed. She avoids Sam's face as she walks away from him and out the room, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

Maybe next time, he tells himself. Maybe next time will be different.

[gingersnaaps]

ctrl + shift + n

you should always remember to close your tabs - especially your tabs of tumblr smut, and especially around miya atsumu.

wc: 1.6k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, noncon, fingering, panty gag, finger sucking, condescension, super meta, fem!reader with internal genitals, college!au

a/n: i feel like this has been done before but i’ve had this concept on my mind for a while

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

Miya Atsumu. Star volleyball player at your college. Undeniably talented. Riddled with scholarship offers and professional opportunities. Infuriatingly attractive.

Also: a terrible group project member.

“Just lemme have a look,” he whines, grabbing at your laptop. “It’ll only take a few seconds. Promise.”

It’s a heroic task, ignoring him. It almost takes as much brainpower as doing his portion of the project for him.

Your eye begins to twitch as his perfectly-filed fingernails intrude at the edge of your screen, obscuring part of the slide you’d been working on. Technically, he should have been the one doing them, but as much of a genius as he may be at volleyball(this fact was grudgingly admitted after you’d watched him play once), he was utterly useless when it came to anatomy and physiology.

And you really, really, needed to end the semester without failing.

The cool metal of the laptop slips out of your grasp, and you roll your eyes so hard that you think they might get stuck in your head.

“Just wanted to see what you’d been workin’ on,” Atsumu says sheepishly. He’s sitting at the opposite end of your couch, legs kicked up and crossed on the coffee table, and the bright screen disappears from view as he begins clicking through the slideshow. “Not bad,” he muses. He presses a few more keys.

His face suddenly changes, a brow quirking as his eyes darken.

“What?” you snap. “Should’ve done it yourself earlier if there’s something you don’t like.”

He jumps slightly, startled by your harsh reaction. “No,” he says quickly. Too quickly. “It’s good. I like it.”

One more thing to note about Miya Atsumu, you thought to yourself: he was probably terrible at poker.

He returns the laptop to you, as promised, and hums idly as you resume working. The two of you sit in silence, but it’s not exactly comfortable - after the awkward exchange, there’s a layer of tension that hangs thick and heavy in the air. The air conditioning drones on in the background, like white noise meant to soothe, but it worms its way into your conscious mind and sits there, just noticeable enough to be irritating. Aside from that, it’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Of course, he’s the one to break the silence.

“Didn’t know you were into that kinda’ stuff.”

You freeze.

“Didn’t think that a girl like you would ever be lookin’ at something so messed up.”

Panic clenches at your stomach, and you reply carefully, voice measured and cold. “What are you talking about?”

“Should really be more careful about which tabs you leave open,” he chuckles.

You scan the cluttered row of tabs at the top; there’s nothing missing. Your eyes dart around the screen frantically -

There’s an incognito window open along your taskbar.

“Rough sex, violent sex, rape? Jesus christ, sweetheart.”

You click nervously, and on the screen, clear as day, is the fic you’d been reading earlier that morning. It’s one of the blogs you frequent - normally one of your favorite places to scroll through after a nasty day - but right now, it seems almost sinister, black font on a white background staring back accusingly as your skin prickles under his gaze. You swallow; a heavy, sinking feeling squeezes at your chest, closes up your throat, makes you feel like you’re dry drowning.

He grabs the laptop back. He’s sitting a lot closer now.

“I mean, just look at this shit. You really want this, huh?”

“No, I- I don’t.” Your voice sounds foreign, far away - you feel like you’re underwater, and your denial sounds guilty even to your own ears.

His lips graze your ear, the warmth of his body spreading to yours as he slides an arm around waist.

“If you wanted to be raped, angel,” he whispers, a terrifying grin stretched wide across his face. “All you had to do was ask.”

He laughs at his clever little joke, and pulls you onto his lap.

You feel numb, paralyzed, unable to fight back or move at all as his hands glide along your inner thighs, kneading the soft, puffy, flesh, spreading them apart until you’re straddling his lap. He pulls your hair to one side and starts kissing along your jaw, rough and sloppy, sharp teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw as you shiver.

He punctuates his words with a harsh squeeze to your thigh, thumb brushing dangerously close to your cunt. “I bet you were getting off t’ this, weren’t you?” he hisses. “Bet you were just dripping down your thighs, squirmin’ around ‘n moaning, fantasizing about some scary man who just takes what he wants.”

The dull, pained, look in your eyes reads like defeat to him, sending a thrill of pleasure through his veins. He’s right, isn’t he? He’s fuckn’ spot on about your little habits, your little fantasies, and he’s gonna make sure that all your dreams come true.

“Let’s do this exactly how it’s written out, how’s that sound? Follow along with your cute story ‘nd everything,” he muses, scrolling down the page. “Starts out with her - you - getting fingerfucked.”

It’s as if those words break some sort of dam inside you, a flurry of tears and sobs heaving out of your chest as his fingers trail up to your clothed clit. You squirm back and forth in his lap, ass rutting against his hardening cock. “Don’t want it,” you whimper. “Don’t make me. Please.”

“Playin’ along, angel? That’s cute.”

He peels your skirt off of you, thumbs hooking around the waistband of your panties as he pulls them off and stuffs them in your mouth. You can taste yourself on the damp fabric that clings to the roof of your mouth, spit soaking through as your whines and protests become muffled.

Fingers spread your pussy apart, sliding and squelching embarrassingly in the slick, your skin cold and exposed in the open air. As he rests his thumb lightly on your clit, he quirks his lips at the way your heartbeat thrums in your cunt, your pussy twitching as you clench around nothing.

Best part is that you like this, that you're turned on by this, he thinks. The fat, silvery, tears streaming down your face mean absolutely nothing when you’re so obviously into it.

He thrusts a long, thick, finger in, all the way to the last knuckle, the calloused pad of his fingertip brushing up against your spongy walls as your pussy contracts and squeezes him tight. “So eager,” he coos. “It’s jus’ like you always imagined, huh?”

You sniffle as the outline of his cock presses into your ass, rutting his hips against you and moaning from the delicious friction of the fabric. There’s nowhere for you to go, one large hand squeezing your waist and holding you down, the other fucking you backwards into his broad chest.

He crooks his finger; you sob, body drawn taught with pleasure, and he pushes another inside as you spasm. He’s good with his hands, unfairly good, his thumb nudging against your sweet clit in circles as his fingers scissor your walls and stretch you out so good. It’s as if you’re his little puppet, jerking around whenever he drags his fingers roughly against your g-spot, crying out through your stuffed mouth as blunt teeth sink into your neck and his tongue runs along the ridge of your ear.

“You’re makin’ a mess, pretty girl,” he murmurs, watching in delight as you flush with shame. “Dripping into my palm and all down your thighs, just like the girl in the story.”

You turn your head, trying to look away, but he grabs at the hinge of your jaw and forces you to meet his gaze. It’s taunting, cruel - he looks so pleased with himself as he fingers you until your thighs start trembling, walls clenching erratically as pleasure builds and builds.

His grip on your face turns tight, pressing bruises into your skin as you cream and gush around his thick digits. The orgasm crashes down on you in waves of pleasure, his fingers fucking you through it with constant probing and circling and stimulation.

His nimble fingers pluck the panties from your mouth, soaked with drool, and tosses them aside onto the floor. “Open up,” he says, prying at your mouth.

Your jaw goes slack, falling open, too tired to put up a fight as he shoves his fingers in. You’re not sure there’s much of a point. You suck sloppily, tongue laving around his digits, cleaning your cum off of him as he shoves his hand in deeper, making you gag and retch, and he moans loudly at the sight. You look so perfect - his precious little angel choking on his fingers, eyes watering and body trembling as you do everything he makes you.

You’re shivering when he withdraws his fingers with a pop.

He helps you put your clothes back on, wet panties sliding across your skin and leaving trails of shining slick. It sticks and clings to your pussy, makes you feel all filthy and used, and bile rises in your throat. Goosebumps ripple down your thigh at the sensation of cool air.

Atsumu nuzzles at your neck, fingers patting at your spent pussy, his tenderness almost mocking, and clicks back to the slideshow you’d been working on.

“Let’s save the cock for after you get us the A, hmm?”

[sserpente]

A/N: Heyho there my lovelies! I’m finally back! I missed posting so much! This Imagine is based on a TikTok I found and what can I say? It inspired me! After this, next up, will be the 20k Special! Enjoy everyone!

Words: 3205 Warnings: colour-blindness

“What if I never find him?” You murmured, glancing at the fruit bowl with a saddened expression. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. To you, they were all different shades of grey. Dull and boring, like you had been sucked into a 30s black-and-white film. Only you didn’t get a cheesy romance out of it.

You had been born with what doctors today would call a ‘remarkably rare, complicated and fascinating condition’, for you had lost all of your colour vision at the age of twelve. You still remembered what the world had looked like before—bright, rich, intense—then someone flicked a switch overnight and all you could still see was grey, grey, grey and greyer. The colours would only ever come back to you once you found the love of your life—your soulmate.

A sigh escaped your lips. Only a few people still existed with this… defect and to make things worse, you had had no idea you were one of them. Not until your twelfth birthday. Society admired and pitied you all the same and yet, being a hopeless romantic, at the end of the day, you longed to finally fall in love.

Tony chuckled. “Heads up. You’re too young to worry about settling down anyway.” He responded cheerfully and pointed at you with a screwdriver in hand. He had been trying to fix the dishwasher for a solid twenty minutes now and for a man who had built himself a pretty much indestructible suit that could fly, it was utterly amusing he couldn’t figure out why it had stopped working.

You were not an Avenger, mind you. The sole reason you were, as of right now, in the Avengers’ kitchen munching on grey chocolate chips was that your best friend, who in turn was friends with Clint’s wife, had managed to flood your shared flat over the weekend. It was utterly inhabitable now and it would take quite a while for the landlord to get it all dried up again—and since insurance would not cover the cost for staying in a hotel, for the time being, Clint’s wife had suggested you’d stay with them—right until Tony Stark had shown up and you had graciously offered you’d come hang out at the Avengers Tower. Okay, technically you had begged him but either way and needless to say, you had jumped at the opportunity and somehow even hoped that you would learn some dirty superhero secrets—but so far, nothing. Nothing but what superheroes did when they were not out and about saving the world. Truth be told, seeing Thor in Hello Kitty pyjamas and witnessing Natasha Romanoff of all people scream watching an Asian horror film had its perks but you had somehow expected for them to be called in for an urgent mission where they required a skill only you had and then they would rely on your help and you would fight and become an Avenger and… your fanfiction had always sounded too good to be true.

“Are you still there? How is that fruit bowl so interesting?” Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you blinked.

“Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I was saying that…”

“Tony?” It was Bruce who interrupted you two, peeking his head into the kitchen almost timidly. You waved at him and he nodded, yet he failed to reciprocate your smile. Uh-Oh.

“Did something happen?”

The scientist nodded. “You might wanna put on your suit.”

“What happened?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “We’ve located Loki.”

-

Your eyes were still widened by the time you rushed after Tony even after he had told you explicitly (three times, to be exact) to stay put and hide until he had been put in custody.

The Loki. God of Mischief, Thor’s brother, Frost Giant, the I-tried-to-take-over-the-planet-guy. It was exciting, somehow, meeting a villain and oh, would it fuel you for your fan fiction. You almost bumped straight into Thor when they all came to a halt all of a sudden, his body a wall of flesh and muscle and making you grunt in pain—you might as well have hit a brick wall. With his hammer in hand, he ensured no one would approach his dangerous brother closely enough for him to try anything funky.

But the fact that Loki was even more handsome in person and the first villain you ever saw in person when he turned around the corner with a proud and arrogant expression on his face despite his shackles, was not what startled you to the core.

All of a sudden, there were colours. Everywhere.

Your lips parted, the impact of all the pigmentation around you making you dizzy. Loki’s armour was black, his cape was green, his eyes were blue, and his hair reminded you of the plumage of a raven. And your surroundings... The compound was silver now, the sceptre they had taken from him golden. Nauseous, you held on to Thor’s muscly arm for support. The God of Thunder frowned in concern. His eyes were blue too, his hair blonde, his cape red… too… many… colours. You suppressed a gag, overwhelmed by the sudden return of your colour vision.

“Are you okay?” Thor asked.

“G-guys… I can see colours.”

Every single head in the room, including Loki’s, turned in your direction so fast you flinched. Tony’s face was the first to fall in response.

“You are joking, right?”

Mutely, you shook your head. Your eyes locked with Loki’s, electricity rippling through you when they did. His blue irises froze you from the inside out, like each and every one of your limbs failed to resist the magnetic pull you felt towards him, and your cells longed for you to throw yourself into his arms—despite the fact he was handcuffed... and for a good reason too. Swallowing thickly, you forced yourself to look away.

Loki was your soulmate. That was impossible; and quite frankly, the god in question appeared to be thinking the exact same thing.

You chewed on your lower lip, anything to distract yourself from your predicament all the while everyone was still staring at you like you had grown two more heads.

“Take him to the cells, I’ll stay with her.” Clint’s hand on your shoulder did little to console you. Part of you still barely resisted the urge to start at Loki like a succubus, the other… the other was terrified and meant to hide in the archer’s embrace.

You could feel Loki’s blue gaze still resting on you when he led you away from the scene, staring daggers into your back and rendering you speechless until you were finally out of sight and Clint shook your shoulder gently.

“Are you sure it’s not one of the security guards that helped bring him in?”

“No… no, I saw them first. Loki was behind them. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it but somehow, Loki was in colour first, you know what I mean? First him and then, a split second later, everything else was colourful too.”

“And now?”

“Now what?”

“Do you still see in colour now?”

“Of course I do.” Clint sighed and buried his face in his hands.

“So what happens if you don’t… act on this soulmate thing?”

“Nothing. Nothing happens.” You said.

“So you don’t have to… stay close to Loki or anything?”

“No. Not that I know of. But Clint—“

“Good. Because he might find a way to use you against us. Stay away from him. Thor’ll take him back to Asgard soon enough. All we need to do first is find the Tesseract.”

Your lips were pursed when he turned to check on them and if Loki was wreaking havoc while they were trying to get him imprisoned.

Stay away from him? Of course… it was the most reasonable thing to do. Loki was dangerous, a criminal… but was that right? Now that you had found your soulmate in him?

-

You couldn’t get him out of your head that night. Screw the danger, you had to see him. And eventually, your curiosity and that inexplicable and strange pull you felt towards Loki got the better of you. With a deep breath, you threw your covers back and let your bare feet hit the cold floor before quietly tiptoeing out into the dark and empty hallway.

Your blood was rushing in your ears, making you hear things your paranoia and imagination cooked up to the point your heart was pounding in your chest so hard and fast you feared it might jump right out of your ribcage. No one could know, of course. Clint would positively kill you—he, along with Tony, somewhat considered himself responsible for you here. You couldn’t really blame them. If something happened to you, they’d never forgive themselves. You were an innocent civilian, after all.

And now you had been tossed into the greatest fanfiction yet. Shivering, for the cold slowly crept into your bare skin and through the tanktop and shorts you were wearing to sleep, you finally reached the corridor leading to the elevator. The prison cells, a rather new addition to Stark Tower, were located at the very bottom, the cellar, or… what you preferred to call it, a modern dungeon.

You found Loki with his back turned to you in his cell, looking pale through the glass pane. Your heart skipped a beat when he suddenly spoke up.

“I expected you would find a way to come and see me at some point. I’d dare say the Avengers have taken quite the precautions to keep you as far away from me as possible.” He mused. He lifted his chin, approaching the glass window.

It was quite ridiculous to assume that this tiny and meagre prison would keep the Trickster at bay after everything he had proven to be capable of. If only he wanted to, he could shatter that glass with but a flick of his wrist or break the heavy metal door posing as the only barrier between you.

If you were to just… unlock that door to touch him… it would be so easy. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head to chase the thought away.

“Who are you?” He asked and for just a brief moment, you believed to see genuine interest and curiosity sparkling in his stunning blue eyes.

“No one, really. You already know my name, I presume but that’s all there is. I’m not special—I mean, I don’t have superpowers. I’m just a regular human with a rare condition.”

“Oh, I see. Surely you had not hoped for a criminal of all people to be your soulmate then? A murderer? A monster?” His expression hardened.

Yes. But you were not going to tell him that. He was still the person to have made you see colours again, regardless of who he was and what he had done. There must have been a connection between you, you felt it after all! And you were certain that he felt it too.

“Thor will take me back to Asgard and the great King Odin,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “will surely have me executed. You will never see me again. So do not worry.”

“I don’t want that.” You finally chirped, barely daring to look him in the eye. His gaze was scrutinising and intimidating… almost as if he was able to see right into your soul with but one single glance.

Loki frowned.

“I bet you’re not happy about this, are you?” A desperate scoff escaped your lips. “I’m not sure I am…” You confessed and sat down on the chair in front of the window. It creaked a little under your weight, the unpleasant sound echoing through the empty hallway.

This man right in front of you was not be trusted and yet, the desire to pour your heart out to him was so strong you felt it like a sea of emotions attempting to drown you.

“You know ever since my twelfth birthday I wondered when I would finally meet my soulmate. Who they would be, what they would be like… and then so many years passed I was beginning to worry I might never see colours again. That I’d be alone and grey for the rest of my life.”

Loki licked his lips and glanced up at you, listening intently to every single word you said.

“Now I met you and they all tell me not to trust you. I mean… I know who you are, I know what you’ve done. I can’t say I’m happy about the fact my soulmate is…” You stopped yourself, breathing in sharply. “What was the universe thinking? You are a god and I’m just… me. We live light-years apart!”

Eventually, after a moment of surprisingly pleasant silence between you, Loki hummed. “The Norns do have interesting ways.” He said, locking his eyes with yours, almost as if he was pondering if… if what? If he could imagine being with you?

“So what should we do? Never speak of it again? Pretend we have never met? I can’t just… come to Asgard with you.” You held your breath when you realised what you were considering here. Loki must have thought the same. He smirked in response—not mockingly but bitterly. “Odin would never allow a mortal on Asgard. If I was to survive my trial, that is.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t care you’re a criminal right now, I just found my soulmate, and I don’t want to lose him again right away, regardless of what happens between us.”

With a start, his face fell. “Nothing will happen between us. That would be unnecessarily cruel, would it not? Your life in the nine realms is but a heartbeat compared to mine.”

“So… this is goodbye?”

Loki hesitated. You noticed by the way his lips slightly parted without a single sound escaping them just yet.

“Yes. This is goodbye.”

-

The fruit bowl had become your new best friend. In the morning, tired and rather absent, you sat at the kitchen table holding on to a steaming mug of coffee all the while studying the different colours of the fruit before you like a complicated Maths formula.

“Did you have a good chat last night?” Clint barked at you when he entered the room, skipping the ‘Good morning’.

“Huh?”

“With Loki?” He probed, raising his eyebrows in an I-already-know-what-you’ve-done manner.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, shaking your head and focusing your gaze on the fruit bowl again. Yellow bananas, green grapes, red apples. In colour.

You flinched when Tony spoke your name. “We saw the footage on our security cameras. You sneaked to his cell last night knowing fully well why you should stay away from him, especially with… with… you know.”

Fuck… the security cameras. You had completely forgotten about those! Of course the legendary Tony Stark would have had security cameras installed all over the damn place!

Busted, you shrugged your shoulders as nonchalantly as you could muster. “I just wanted to talk him. I had to talk to him. I know what you’re all thinking—that he’s evil and brutal and cruel and ruthless… and… and you’re probably right? I… I don’t even know but… he is still my soulmate. I can see colours again because of him for Fuck’s sake! I can’t just… ignore that.”

“I get it. We don’t know what it must feel like. But it’s for the best. We don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I am his soulmate, too. He wouldn’t dare hurt me. You know maybe he’s not the monster you all think he is.”

“Are you saying that because you know him so well after last night or because that is what you want to believe?”

Both. “I just… have a feeling.”

“Right.” Tony clapped his hands. Your name left his lips almost like a plea. “You have to trust us.”

Thor nodded. “Loki is dangerous. You should stay away from him at least until we know he is not still plotting the domination of your planet.”

“What do you mean ‘at least until’? You can stop staying away from him when he’s back on Asgard and out of your reach.” Tony snapped.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe.” Steve intervened. You sighed.

“You know what? I’m getting a headache and I’m still tired, so I’m gonna go back to bed.” That wasn’t even a lie—well, at least the fatigue bit wasn’t. Besides, the blackout curtains in the room Tony let you stay in were heaven-sent.

That was until a loud tumult in the Tower woke you up again, even though you were not sure anymore you had actually fallen asleep once your head hit the soft pillow.

“W—“ Your scream of protest was muffled by a cool palm covering your mouth. You struggled briefly, ripping your eyes wide open in a weak attempt to make out who was assaulting you in the comforting darkness of your room when you suddenly heard a soothing voice shushing you.

“It’s me…”

“L-Loki?” You choked out when he removed his hand again. “Did you… did you break out of your cell?”

“It would seem so. Come.”

“What?”

He tilted his head. “I don’t have much time.”

You stood, throwing the covers back when he already reached for your hand and held it tightly, pulling you with him into the hallway and towards one of the more hidden exists of Stark Tower, a flight of stairs illuminated only by emergency lights.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I am proving to you that I am more than just a criminal.”

“Oh… but… um… where are we going?”

Loki smirked. Your eyes widened when he pulled out the Tesseract seemingly out of nowhere, its blue light glowing brightly in the dark and throwing artistic shadows on his face.

“Hold on tight.”

“Loki…”

The God of Mischief pulled you close, making you gasp. Your chest hit his, his arm wrapping around your waist. With his face only inches from yours, you could feel his warm breath on your lips, and suddenly longed to kiss him.

“You are my soulmate. I am not leaving you behind.”

“What happened to ‘goodbye’?” You chirped.

Loki tilted his head almost threateningly. “You are mine. Don’t you think I wanted to leave this place without looking back?” His expression softened. “But I couldn’t. Because of you.” And you might just be the only woman to ever love me in this way, he added silently.

“B-but… Y-you said Odin will never allow me on Asgard and… and…”

“I never said we were going to Asgard, now was I?”

Your lips parted. Could you trust him? The stranger who had finally made you see colours again? If you told him No, would he let go of you? Would he let you run to Tony and Clint and Nat so they could protect you from him? Swallowing thickly, you met his intense blue gaze and nodded.

Loki smirked and winked. “You are in for an adventure.” And you knew he wasn’t lying. Next thing you knew, you were both hurtled through space and into a shared future.

-

A/N: ☕