#fanfiction overload

[stardustrebels]

Seasons of Life Writing Challenge Day 10- Footpath

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader Rating: PG-13/ T WC: 481

Challenge Masterlist

A/N: Day 10 of the Jan 2025 writing challenge by @fanfictionoverload! This started out very different, took a surprising turn at some point yesterday and ended up as this. And while I love it when that happens - oof, my heart. Damn this fictional historical man making me feel things. Healthy dose of angst incoming. Enjoy!

“This way,” 

The General nodded toward a narrow dusty path overgrown with wild sage and ivy, barely visible to the eye. His hand found yours, his grip warm, grounding, and he led you forward. 

The footpath twisted and turned through a dense grove of olive trees, their thick trunks gnarled and knotted, leafy canopies casting a dappled patchwork of shadows across you both. 

“This place looks untouched,” you said, stepping carefully over a root.

“I was twelve the first time I ventured here and it has not changed since.” He replied, his voice quiet.  “I would come here often to dream about what my life might be like.”

“And is your life the one you dreamt about, General?” You asked softly. 

He huffed a laugh and turned to you with a wistful smile, but didn’t answer.

The two of you continued walking, his place slower now, as though his memories had taken on a weight of their own. The path widened abruptly, opening in to a small clearing. At its center stood a weathered statue of Minerva. Her features had been softened by time, and she was flecked with moss. A broken spear rested in her hand, aimed skyward.

Marcus let go of your hand, stepping toward her as though drawn by some invisible force. He lowered his head in deference and murmured words too low for you to hear. 

“I would sit here for hours,” he said after a moment, turning to you, the flecks in his eyes reflected like polished amber in the sunlight. “Minerva was a symbol of everything I wanted to be. Wise. Just. I thought becoming a soldier of Rome would bring her honour and my life purpose.” 

He shifted and took a breath, his eyes flicking back to the stature in front of him. “But war is a harsh tutor to the simple dreams of a boy. Honour is fleeting, and purpose finds value only in a noble cause. I doubt the boy who walked this path would even recognise himself.”

You stepped closer, fingers brushing his arm and he turned to you. 

“He would see how strong he’d become. His conviction. That he became a man who never stopped fighting for what he believed in.” 

“And what is there to believe in now?” He said, voice wavering. 

“In the fact that there’s still good in the world,” you replied, holding his gaze, “even if it’s buried beneath the weight of its cruelty.”

Marcus’ face fell. A choked sob left his lips as his head fell in to the crook of your neck. He clung to you, his calloused thumbs pressing in to your arms hard enough to bruise. You shifted to brush a hand through his curls in a silent comfort, unable to offer any with words. You stood there, in the shadow of the old olive trees and let Rome’s great General weep.

[lady-bess]

Seasons of Life - Cozy

11th Doctor x GN!Reader General/ Teen Rated Words: 316 Tags: 11th Doctor, Doctor Who fanfiction, writing challenge, cabin, cozy cabin

For day 3 of the @fanfictionoverload Seasons of Life Challenge!

“Come on, we’re nearly there!” he shouted over his shoulder. You were sure that you hadn’t actually been walking for all that long, but in the chill wind and flurries of snow it sure felt like you’d been at it for hours. You were starting to regret not insisting on you being the one to wear his ridiculously long scarf. 

But, for your Doctor, it seemed like you were willing to walk to the ends of the universe for him if he so asked. Even if you were cold doing so. 

“And you promise this will be worth it?” you said, your voice battling against the whirling wind that swept past you both, with it carrying fragments of snow from the hillside. 

“Cross both my hearts!” he said, motioning with his fingers over his chest in a crossing motion. You giggled as he fell back in his steps to be alongside you now, one arm instinctively wrapping itself around your waist. 

There was always a comfort to the Doctor’s presence whenever he opted to be physically affectionate. It didn’t happen all that often, but the smallest of touches were never missed by you. Secretly you yearned for them to happen more, but that often felt like a distant dream. 

As the two of you continued to wade through ankle deep snow, a small cabin came into view over the brow of the hill. You turned to the Doctor and saw a smile spread out across his face as the cabin became clearer, and the arm that was still wrapped around your back steered your tracks in its direction. 

“Is that where we’re headed then?” you asked, and he nodded. 

“Yeah! Can’t come to a planet that’s entirely covered in snow and not expect me to go all out with the cozy cabin aesthetic!” he exclaimed, and together you headed down the hill towards the wooden building. 

Next Work (Fireplace) ->

[kinardsevan]

Show of hands, how many of yall are so far down the fanfiction rabbit hole that you’re struggling to separate canon from fics?

Just me? Ok.

[yayoineko]

After watching Megatron and Optimus snogging in the woods, Dr. Meridian has been pondering the workings of Cybertronian bodies. A bit too much pondering, perhaps. What Meridian saw the other day... https://www.tumblr.com/yayoineko/752577106118082560/sooo-a-dude-obsessed-with-robotics-walks-in-on-2?source=share

3 pages READS RIGHT to LEFT <------<------<------

[underoospeterparker]

can’t remember if I already sent this in but tasm Peter Parker x reader who has sensory issues and gets overstimulated easily. n him just calming her down, giving her something to fidget with or chew on cause he knows that calms her, getting her into comfy clothes that aren’t scratchy or tight and just taking care of her. asking her loads of questions and giving her options to choose from so she feels more in control of the situation <3 ugh i love him

thank you for requesting!!

tasm!peter x reader / mcu!peter x reader, 0.8k words

tw: overstimulation

You're resting your head in Peter's lap while he tangles his fingers in your hair, scratching gently at your scalp. Peter's friends are sitting on the seats opposite to you, and the two of them are laughing about something rather loudly. Peter glances at you every so often, leans down to press a soft kiss to your temple. Every time he does that, you let out a quiet hum of contentment, press your head further into his lap.

You're exhausted from a long day of school and came home to Peter's friends. You'd given them both a hug when you arrived, but Peter already noticed you were out of it: Your eyes were unfocused, you had this dazed look about you, and you kept fidgeting with your hands, wringing them out.

Peter had given you a concerned look, clearly worried, as if asking 'Do you want them here?' You'd given him a gentle, reassuring smile, mouthed to him that it was fine. You were currently rethinking your decision as their voices grew louder. You began to hear the screeching of the kettle, the scratches your cat was making on the wooden table, the spin of the fan. You could feel your tight knit sweater sticking to your body, and you could hardly breathe.

You forced yourself to take deeper, longer breaths as you curled up in Peter's lap. His hand paused on your head but then resumed its ministrations, as he looked up in shock at something his friend had said. It all sounded like a blabber of words to you: You felt confused; disoriented. The air conditioner was on, but you felt hot. Boiling hot. You tried to pull at your sweater, wanting it off.

You resisted the urge to scream, and to calm yourself down you tried to focus on the ground, on the carpet, but you couldn't: Everything else was far too loud.

"(Y/N)?" Peter's voice cut through the noise. You press your hands to your ears, trying to block out the noise, to soften his words. You turn around to face Peter's stomach, try to hide in his hold. "Sweetheart, are you okay?" His hands reached for yours, helped cover your ears. You looked up through blurry vision, meeting his loving and concerned gaze. Peter tilted his head slightly, searched your eyes for a response to his question. You shook your head slowly in reply, let out a quiet whine as you burrowed yourself closer to him.

Something in his eyes clicks in realisation. He held out a hand to his friends to get them to stop talking; helping you stand up with a hand on your wrist, gently moving you to a quieter room. Peter shut the door behind the two of you, sat you down on the soft comforter. You mumbled something incoherent, struggled to get your sweater off, the tightness suffocating you, making it hard to breathe.

Peter's eyes soften as he reaches for the hem of your sweater, helping you pull it off your head. He squeezes your hand before moving towards the closet, grabbing your comfiest pyjamas as helping you slip in to them with two hands on your shoulders. He doesn't speak until then, knowing you needed to feel comfortable and snug before you would be able to fully converse.

He settled you on the bed, covers not on because he knew you were feeling hot. "Can I get you anything? Your fidget toy? Or your stuffed animal?"

His voice was soft, only a murmur, and you nodded gratefully. "Both, please?" You asked quietly.

Peter presses a lingering kiss to your forehead and untangles himself from you, nodding quickly. "Of course, bug." He returns in under a minute, giving you the two items and watching as you settle down with them. "Do you want me here, or should I go?" He touches your leg soothingly, rubbing a hand up and down.

"Here," I mumble, "please?" Peter melts a little, feels his heart squeeze. He climbs onto the bed behind you, careful not to touch or jostle you too much. When he remains quiet, you add, "Can I have a hug?"

He softens. "Absolutely, honey." Peter doesn't wait another second before wrapping you up in his arms, bringing you closer to his chest. He thumbs at your neck affectionately as you curl up in his hold, wanting to be as close to him as possible. "My poor, sweet girl," he murmurs softly. "You're doing so good. Are you feeling a bit better?"

"Mhm, yes," I say quietly, "thank you." You give him your best, most grateful smile. "Y' the best, baby."

Peter rolls his eyes affectionately against the crown of your head. "Says you, lovely girl."

[apomaro-mellow]

Eddie's been on cloud nine as of late. Things were going great with Steve and they were going even better with Wayne and Steve. Eddie thought there might be some tension, and there was, but only briefly.

His uncle was a great judge of character. And Steve's character was perfect, if Eddie did say so himself.

So imagine his surprise when he comes back to the trailer, Steve's eyes red and wet from crying.

Eddie came in from a hard day's work and since he saw Steve's car waiting was prepared to be greet with a kiss. He heard a weird shuffling, then saw Steve sitting next to Wayne.

"Steve?"

"Eddie, it's not what you think", Steve said quickly.

"It's not? Because it looks like my uncle made you cry. And I think I can imagine why."

"Oh?", Wayne raised a brow. "Do tell."

Steve was looking back and forth between them, like he was afraid of a fight breaking out.

"It looks like you gave him the talk every father gives their daughter when she brings her first serious boyfriend home. Like you told him about your hatchet collection just in case he every breaks my heart."

Steve's eyes widened. "Your what?"

Wayne just rolled his. "I had a brief stint as a lumberjack. And two axes hardly count as a collection."

"You still didn't hafta threaten him. You know Steve now. You know he's good to me." What if whatever Wayne said scared him off? It probably took a lot to freak him out but Eddie had never seen him cry before. Ever.

"Well maybe he could use a little warning, just in case."

Eddie frowned and went over to Steve's side. "I can't believe you'd treat him like that. After everything I've told you and everything you've seen-"

"Wayne didn't do anything!", Steve blurted.

That made Eddie pause and Steve took a breath before he pulled something that had been hidden between his back and the couch cushions. "He was showing me this."

Eddie knew what was in the book already but opened it anyway. A photo album, filled with pictures from the day Eddie was born all the way to his first couple of years of primary school. The later years were in another album.

"You were crying....because Wayne showed you my baby photos?"

Steve nodded.

"Can you blame him? You were a handsome baby", Wayne said. "Needed him to know you weren't always funny lookin'."

Eddie looked over Steve's shoulder to shoot him a playful glare before looking back at his boyfriend.

"Sweetness, I truly got myself hitched to a sap. I mean, this made you cry?" He held up the photo of himself, halfway to bringing a spoonful of mashed potatoes to his mouth. The mess around his face and on his hands told the story of his very valiant efforts to feed himself.

"You were adorable", Steve whined, eyes getting a little misty again.

"Alright, alright. I can understand the secrecy now. I'm not a huge fan when Wayne pulls this out. But for you and only you, we can peruse my early childhood. Anything after I turn ten is off limits!"

Eddie pointed a finger at them both, daring him to challenge them.

"Why can't I see middle school Eddie?", Steve asked.

"Oh he was really funny lookin' then", Wayne answered. "Went through this whole phase where he claimed purple was his color."

[vani-ash]

Cat slave Jeff with 18 cats 😭 via Youtube

[micoz-field-of-dreamz]

how i feel after channeling my sensory overload into a frost/gricko comfort fic!!!!

[strawberryraviegutz]

Remember to spread awareness and contact your reps about going against KOSA. PLEASE. WE CANNOT LET THIS GO THROUGH. Plus if you’re pro Palestine then this bill will basically ban ppl from speaking up about that too. CONTACT YOUR REPS AND MAKE LOTS OF NOISE GUYS.

[laroserie]

— character : Tim Drake

— content : x gender neutral reader - reader is referred to as 'you', tim confessing multiple times and failing, reader is ... dense.

— authors note : as i said - i want to write for each weeks of december ! and today is the 7th so my deadline. this is short but sweet :)

— The first time Tim Drake, told you he loved you was the 7th of december a few years back. It was a regular day, nothings out of the norm expect for the fact that it snowed, when the weather forecast said it couldn't.

You took a moment to react, looking at your friend dumbfounded. You were both sitting at a table, at a coffee shop, you were sipping yours and had to put it down. Not sure how to react you simply laughed.

''Well, I like you too Tim? You are a great friend, but you caught me off guard with ... that.'' You told him after you finished laughing.

He sighed and shake his head, he seemed that he wanted say something else but Tim changed subject, talking about a new novel he was reading.

The second time Tim Drake told you he loved you was the next year, the 7th of december once again, this time you were watching a movie. It was just a cheesy regular christmas movie that you put on because you didn't know what else to watch - both of you were not paying attention to it. You were sitting next to Tim, your head was lying on my shoulder and your hands were intertwined. He wasn't sure how he kept his calm to be honest, his mind was racing and once again he just blurred out a 'i love you'. Not hearing any response from you after a few minutes had passed, he looked at you, to see you asleep. He sigh - once again his confession failed.

This time, he didn't care too much, 'I always have next year to tell them' he thoughts. He watched your sleep so peacefully and couldn't help but smile. Then his gaze lower to your hands holding each others and lightly squeezed yours. He didn't mean to but that woke you up, he let out a small laugh seeing you suddenly jerk up, asking for how long you were out.

The third time Tim Drake told you he loved you, was once again the 7th of december. He had decided to make it his habit, he could confess to you every 7th of december until you gave him an answer. This time you were both walking in a mall, looking at the decorations. It was his idea, he wanted this to be a somewhat romantic hangout and take it as an opportunity to confess but he gave up momentarily seeing how into the decors you were. At some point, you both arrived near the center of the mall, here the malls Santa was. You turned to him and looked at him without saying anythings - Tim understood nearly immediately what you wanted to do. He looked at you back for a while, before sighing and nodding his head. And there you went, getting in line to take a picture on this Santa laps, with Tim by your side, as you obviously dragged your best friend along. When it was finally your turn, he stayed on the side, like a parent do for a kid, while you went and sat on the Santa lap and took a picture. You jumped off the Santa lap and walked to Tim with a grin on your face - he couldn't help but smile lightly and whisper 'i really do love you'. You didn't hear that - but once again. Tim didn't care that much, - he knew he always had next year to tell you that.

The fourth time Tim Drake told you he loved, was the 7th of december, it was been now four year that this little tradition of his was going on. You didn't know about this one, you thought your tradition was to hang out every 7th of the month, which was the truth but not the entirety of it.

This time you both were baking gingerbread over at your house - well you had already finished baking it, it was currently cooking in the oven and you were cooking the mess that had became the kitchen. Tim did understand now why Alfred banned him and most of the residents in the manor from attempting to cook.

While he was washing the dishes, you were cleaning the counter. He quickly finished the dishes and went to help you clean it. 'Accidentally' getting a bit too close to you and brushing your hands against each others.

Once you finished, Tim and you sat on the floor in front of the oven to wait for the gingerbread to be done. While you were staring focused on the oven, he turn to you and blurred out, - once again.

"I love you." He was expecting you to laugh, give him a little punch on the arm and tell him you loved him too - because he was your friend. But you didn't. Still staring at the oven, you swallowed and responded "I love you too Tim.", he took a moment to register your words but he decided to hold back his emotions.

"You know I don't mean it in the 'I love you' like a friend way right ?" He asked. "Hmm I know. I didn't mean it in that way either." You answered, turning to face him.

"Oh. I'm glad to hear that … Can I ?" Tim asked, leaning closer to you. You nodded and he leaned even closer until his lips were on yours. The kiss was short but sweet, once he broke the kiss he whispered "You have no idea how long I wanted to do that …".

[hayanwulf]

Maybe something about Stephen being secretly an autistic and he have an sensory overload. Tony discovers that Stephen is autistic

Sorry if you don’t understand English it’s not my language.

The thing Stephen really loved about magic was, it could be very soothing to his senses.

Especially Earth’s natural eldritch fields that he could sense all the time, no matter where he was on the planet. It had become a new constant in his life, one that he greatly enjoyed, like listening to the constant hum of rain against the window — soft, steady, and endlessly reassuring.

And when he wielded that magic, allowed it to flow through his veins, it was like a cat idly brushing its warm fur against his offered fingertips, neither too demanding of his attention, nor overwhelming him with its own.

At the cost of sounding doltish, magic felt, well, magical.

More often than not, when he did not have any other duties, he could be found meditating by the Window of the World, lost in the rhythmic ebbs and flows of the magic as he allowed himself to be a conduit to. Nothing quite managed to calm his senses as effectively as listening to the light hum of magic did.

But the thing Stephen really hated about magic was, it could be very, very abrasive to his senses.

More specifically, the magic outside of Earth. The unique magic fields of the endless number of dimensions connected to Earth. They weren’t excruciatingly unpleasant, per say — except for a rare few that literally seemed dead set on trying to burn Stephen’s insides for simply standing within their dimension’s bounds — in fact, the magic and atmosphere of most dimensions was rather tolerable. It was the fact that he had to visit them often, for one reason or the other, that made it a lot more unpleasant.

And he had to visit them very often. Maybe to banish some extradimensional creature back to its home. Maybe to hunt some ingredient or a long-lost relic. Maybe for god-forsaken diplomatic negotiations which he really, really wasn’t cut out for.

Like this one.

Sitting at the dining table with Ataraxia Dimension’s Royals as they discussed the renewal of their alliance pact with Earth, Stephen internally cursed Wong for delegating him, of all people, for this task.

The dimension’s foreign magic constantly prickled at his skin, like the scratchy seams of a particularly elaborate outfit. The smell of their food was some odd mix of freshly gutted fish, petroleum jelly, and acrylic paint; entirely unappetizing, even if he knew, factually, that everything here was edible for his consumption. The agender heir of the Queens unabashedly flirted with him, hovering near his seat every chance they could get and leaving lingering touches on his arms and shoulders, the unprompted contant making him want to flinch and squirm away.

Oh, and the cherry on top: Ataraxians naturally had a very sharp, trill voice.

Everything felt too much. He was at the cusp of losing his sanity.

“Master Strange, won’t you feast? Is the food not to your liking?” One of the Queens asked, having noticed that he hadn’t even touched the contents on his platter. Her voice was shrill — as was every Ataraxian’s — as she spoke in her native language.

Language that Stephen had to translate with the use of a spell.

Spell that needed to be powered with magic.

Magic that circulated through the air around him, foreign and chafing, chilling him to his core, making him want to shiver every time he drew upon it.

And he drew upon it. Again and again and again.

Too much.

“Ah, no, it is perfectly fine,” he told the royals. It’s perfectly fine, he told himself.

The words tasted bitter as a lie, the thoughts pungent as rotting flesh.

“I was simply wondering if I could have some wine to accompany this fine feast?” he added, making up the lie on-the-spot. Well, perhaps not entirely a lie, as he had had their equivalent of ‘wine’ before, and had in fact quite liked it.

By any luck, they would serve him the same thing Wong had once treated him, and this entire dinner would be a little less unbearable.

Not that luck was ever known to favor him very much.

“Of course,” the other Queen intoned, and gestured at one of the servants. The servant in question had barely taken two steps when the Princex perked up.

“Ah, allow me,” they chirped with an extra cheery voice, which really only sounded extra shrill to Stephen’s ears, and he dug his nails into palm to stop his hands from flying to his ears. The agony that shot up his damaged nerves was a way better source of pain than branding crescent marks into his palm could ever be.

Too much.

The Princex flicked their blue hand in the direction of Stephen’s glass. Stephen barely suppressed a flinch as he felt the magic weave so goddamn close to him, filling the glass up with a rich, violet colored liquid with a fruity scent.

Stephen closed his eyes, clenching his fist tighter.

By the Vishanti.

Wrong color. Wrong scent.

What he’d had with Wong one exhausting night in the Sanctum kitchen had been a different shade of violet — a hint more of blue in it. It had smelled less like an ester from a chemistry lab and more like sliced pineapples draped with jasmines.

Too much.

He opened his eyes, staring down at his drink.

It was the same thing he’d had before. He knew it was. It just had a slightly different recipe or manufacturing. Which, of course, was to be expected.

It didn’t help. Because he knew it would taste different, howsoever insignificant the difference.

But he didn’t have a choice, did he?

He swallowed, trying to ignore the twisting feeling in his gut, and thanked the Princex. He picked up the glass of wine, and looked up at the two Queens.

They were staring expectantly at him, likely waiting for him to begin.

He took a deep breath, suppressing a wince as the slightly off-set scent invaded his nostrils. It’s fine, he told himself. Maybe if he told himself enough times, he’d start to believe it.

It’s just one dinner.

One dinner in exchange for another century of peaceful relations. He could manage that much, for his world.

He closed his eyes and took a sip of the wine.

And nearly choked as the thick, cool liquid slid down his throat; the consistency off, the taste off.

Wrong Wrong Wrong—

He quickly separated the glass from his mouth. Some liquid escaped his lips, trickling down his neck before he could’ve gotten his hands on a tissue, making him hyper-aware of the cold, damp trail it left on his skin.

Too much Too much Too much—

The sound of shattering glass was near-deafening to his ears, his now empty hand shaking violently midair. More voices immediately echoed through the hall, sharp and piercing. Stephen couldn’t make out what words were being said, if any. He had let go of the translation spell. He doubted he would’ve comprehended the words even with the spell.

He stood up, feet staggering. His heart thundered loudly in its cage. Everything was too bright, too loud. The smell of the banquet stabbed into his nose, the magic left scorching blisters against his skin, the taste in his mouth a sickly sweet.

Stop, stop, stop, make it stop—

One last time, he drew upon magic, and called forth the path that would lead him home.

Between one moment and another, the feel of Ataraxian magic against his skin was replaced with Earth’s natural eldritch magic. Magic that was familiar, gentle, soothing—

Except, it wasn’t.

It burned. God, it burned.

Like the raw feel of touch against a freshly acquired wound. Like torching a skin that had already been abused with fire.

And his ears. His ears hurt. It was too much noise, and his ears hurt. Why was it still noisy? He had left that place behind to come back home, hadn’t he?

Then why did everything still hurt?

Stephen let his knees crash to the harsh, cold floor, and screamed.

He couldn’t be sure how long the agony lasted. It certainly felt like forever.

It was drowning and barely making it to the surface, allowed to take one life-saving gulp of air, before being pulled down again. It was spiders and ants and centipedes crawling on every inch of skin, feeling every individual appendage of the crawlers as they touched blazing nerves.

And when he finally felt like himself again, when his head was finally above the water and was allowed to breathe normally again, the magic around him was no longer overwhelming. It ebbed and flowed, in that pattern he was oh so familiar with, and he focused himself on it, drew stability from it.

He blinked, no longer staring blankly into the dimly-lit surrounding, but taking it all in, letting the familiarity, the safety of it all wash over him. The space around him so silent that he could hear his own breaths. It felt a little unnatural. This space was neither supposed to be so silent, nor so devoid of light.

His face was mushy and sticky from tears, his eyes unpleasantly puffy. The skin at his neck burned, as did his hands; he must have tried to (literally) peel his skin off again.

He was wrapped up snugly in something heavy and warm. At first he had figured it must be the cloak — they had, since choosing him, learned how to help him in such scenarios — but as he looked down at himself, he found himself wrapped in a nice, large blanket. The cloak was still underneath it, wrapped snug against Stephen, letting him trace his fingers over their velvety folds to distract himself from the ache of his damaged fingers.

And he was no longer on the cold floor, but a cushiony couch — the couch that Tony always kept around in his workshop.

Speaking of the man himself...

Very slowly, he turned his head down, to where Tony was kneeling by the couch on the cold floor, his eyes glued to Stephen with rapt attention.

He had sat there the entire time.

God, he’d witnessed the entire thing.

Stephen’s muscles tensed as a wave of embarrassment crashed into him.

Of course he had. Stephen had been the one to stumble into his workshop through a hastily drawn portal, only to be even more overwhelmed by AC/DC playing on full blast. And now he’d watched Stephen breakdown like.. like that.

Stephen’s heart raced as he tried to figure out, how much did Tony know? How much had he figured out?

What did he think of Stephen, now, having seen him break down so pathetically?

“Cheesecakes? How do you feel?” Tony asked in the quietest voice, as though afraid of startling Stephen into fleeing. He reached out a hand, gently resting it over the thick blanket covering Stephen.

Stephen fixed his eyes on that calloused hand. He needed to move his hands, or pace, or something. But the blanket was.. he didn’t want to leave it. So he settled for running his fingers over the Cloak.

Ignoring Tony’s question, he instead asked in a partially hoarse voice, “How did you.. know the blanket would help?”

Tony shrugged. “Peter gets overstimulated too often. These help, got them specifically for him. I keep one on every part of the compound, just in case.”

An uneasy feeling twisted in his stomach. He hadn’t known that Peter had sensory overloads. He really should’ve figured that out himself. ‘Too often’. Vishanti, how bad was it?

He would need to talk with Peter, later. Offer his help to the kid.

Tony slowly rose from his place on the floor and took a seat right beside Stephen.

Stephen looked away. He didn’t want to look at Tony’s face, too afraid of what he would find there. He had done it, he had made an irreparable mistake. Yet again. This had to be a new record, how to ruin personal and professional relationship as quickly as possible.

What a fool, he thought to himself. Just one dinner. Couldn’t sit through one god-forsaken dinner.

Centuries of peaceful relations and allianceship, and he had managed to single-handedly flushed that all down the drain and make their planet an enemy of Ataraxia. And now he had opened the can of worms that was his issues, to Tony. It was only a matter of time before he, too, would flee, realizing that he couldn’t put up with Stephen and his issues.

Some sorcerer he was.

Some boyfriend he was.

“—phen, Stephen!”

The call shook him out of his head, and he found his wrists held hostage by strong but careful hands, close to his neck where he had tried to peel his skin off again. Fresh tear marks streaked his face, trickling down his neck to soak his robe. The blanked was half unraveled.

“You’re spiraling again, Sweetcakes,” Tony whispered.

Stephen tried to hold back a whimper, couldn’t help but lean into Tony’s gentle touch. He didn’t know how Tony did it. He had never quite liked being touched, but with Tony he couldn’t help but crave that touch, that always reminded him of home and safety.

Would he lose that tender touch forever, now?

“Shh, hey, Sweetie, talk to me. What happened?”

Stephen choked on another sob, unable to look Tony in the eyes as he so carefully maneuvered Stephen’s hands down, his calloused touch gently massaging Stephen’s fingers. What could he even say anymore? Everything had already fallen apart. So he said the only thing that made sense.

“I messed up.”

“Okay,” Tony said. An electronic whine echoed behind them, and Stephen looked around to find Butterfingers hovering behind the couch with a glass of water — when had she arrived here? — which Tony took from her claws, and brought closer to Stephen’s lips, just gently holding it close, not yet forcing the cool glass against his mouth. “How about you hydrate yourself first, and then we’ll talk about what is it so that we can figure out how to fix it?”

Stephen’s eyes flitted to Tony’s face, those honey-gold eyes still fixated on him; then to the hand that still held on to Stephen’s, massaging back and forth in an easy rhythm, then back to the offering of water inches away from his mouth.

It was so hard to decipher what was written on Tony’s face. It shouldn’t be. It really, really shouldn’t be. They’d been together for nearly a year now, why hadn’t Stephen learned it all yet?

Emotion lodged in his throat, threatening a new wave of tears to fall from his eyes. He screwed them shut, squeezing a few tears out anyway.

Tony wasn’t even going to ask him what all of that had been? Why Stephen had acted half insane just a while ago? Tony had to have realized that it was nothing like a normal sensory overload, right?

Does he even know..? Stephen swallowed thickly. He had to, right? He must, he wasn’t a genius for nothing.

But..

Stephen opened his eyes, taking in the man sitting with him, still holding the glass of water ever so patiently, his attention single-mindedly focused on Stephen and only Stephen, as though nothing and no one else existed in this world.

But even if he knows, he doesn’t see me any differently.

The glass of water forgotten, Stephen threw off the thick blanket and threw himself on Tony, wrapping his arms around his genius. Tony set the glass down to wrap his own arms around Stephen, warm and strong, feeling like home and safety.

Stephen chose to believe that the emotion in Tony’s face was love.

[lady-bess]

Seasons of Life - Freezing

11th Doctor x GN!Reader General/ Teen Rated Words: 412 Tags: 11th Doctor, Doctor Who, Writing Challenge, Yeah these two definitely like each other now lol, cuddles, log fires.

For day 6 of the @fanfictionoverload Seasons of Life Challenge!

Soon the sun had set over the horizon, and the air had dropped even cooler. The two of you had gotten lost in each other’s conversations for too long, as always, and had completely neglected noticing what time it was. By now it would be too treacherous to head back to the TARDIS, the ground outside would surely be freezing over at this time, and so the decision was made to stay for the night. 

The Doctor had dug out plenty of blankets from a supply cupboard, and the two of you remained curled up by the fire, stoking the embers to keep the flame alight. Now sat on the rug below the couch, closer to the heat from the fireplace, you pulled your blanket around you closer. 

“Are you warm enough?” he asked. He was leaning over the fire, his sleeves rolled up as he manoeuvred another log onto the flames. You nodded at him, smiling. 

“I will be once that ignites,” you motioned to the wood in his hand with a tilt of your head, and he chuckled, setting back to work on getting it aflame. 

“Sorry again about us having to stay,” he said as he sat back down. He wrapped you up in another blanket, his arm slung around your shoulder. “I really didn’t mean for the day to get away from us. I just…I get lost with you”. 

You smiled at him, then leant on his shoulder, allowing his arms to embrace you. You gently closed your eyes, listening for the sound of his breathing and the crackling of the wood in the fire again. For the first time in years, you felt so at peace. 

“Never apologise for that. Ever,” you turned to look at him, “Besides, I’m slightly to blame too,” you smiled. 

The Doctor chuckled lightly through his nose, and nodded slowly. He raised one hand and softly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear which had fallen in front of your face from leaning on him. You felt your heart quicken in your chest at his gentle touch. 

“Are you happy? Genuinely?” he asked, a quiver in his voice making him sound so nervous for the first time in all the months you’d known him. 

“Happier than I’ve ever been, Doctor. You know that,” you smiled. 

“Always worth checking. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that you’re not sick of me yet,” he chuckled. You giggled, leaning into him again. 

“Never”. 

[have-i-threatened-you-before]

If you haven't yet discovered the amazing KobyLu story written by @okiedoketm then you're missing out! May I introduce you to

A true roller-coaster ride of emotions that will leave you breathless, tearstruck and laughing uproariously.

In addition to this, chapter 8 especially struck me hard leaving me to produce these pieces of art!

Under the cut to avoid spoilers for those who wish.

[vintagegirl01]

Party for Two, Under the Mistletoe

Ruhn Danaan x half-human (type of creature is your choice)female reader

Summary: For as long as you have been Bryce’s friend, you have had a thing for her half-brother Ruhn Danaan. But you chose not to pursue it for Bryce's sake as a friend, and you might simply be seen as his little sister's friend by Ruhn. But that changes when he and the rest of the frat pack arrange a Christmas party and a mistletoe appears.

Ruhn Danaan's gaze lingered on you as you chatted with Bryce, taking in the way the festive lights of the Christmas party played across your features.

As Bryce excused herself to grab a drink, the fae male sauntered over, his violet-blue eyes never leaving yours, his voice low and smooth. "You look lovely tonight."

“Ruhn…I…thank you.” You blush profusely, trying to avoid the gaze of the fae male wearing a nice black suit that compliments his golden skin with his waist length, raven black hair in a braid.”You look handsome tonight also”, you blush moving a strand of hair behind your ear.

Ruhn's lips curled into a charming smile, his eyes dancing with interest. "Just 'handsome'?" he teased, leaning casually against a nearby table. "I'm wounded."

You giggle. “Aww. Why is that? Is the Crown Prince of the Valbaran Fae offended that I’m not at his beck and call like every other female in crescent city?”

Ruhn chuckled deeply, his eyes taking on a roguish gleam as he responded. "Oh, you know me too well. Everyone else fawns all over me, and here you are, calling me handsome but nothing more."

“I’m sure your ego can take it, my prince”, you playfully mock, giving him a wink as you sway your hips. Making way to find Bryce.

Ruhn watched you walk away, his eyes drinking in the sight of your hips and the way you carried yourself with such grace.

As you reached Bryce, who was chatting with her boyfriend and mate, Hunt, Ruhn couldn't help himself, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he followed.

Noticing the two lovebirds are starting to get a bit more handsy with one another, you politely excuse yourself from them as you move to find a new spot to hangout around for a bit. When you find a spot a few paces away from where Bryce and Hunt were, you are unaware of the mistletoe that stands above you.

Ruhn's eyes continued to follow you as you moved through the crowd, and when you stopped beneath a strategically placed mistletoe, he saw his chance.

With a casual stride, he approached you, his gaze locking onto yours. "It seems like the universe has something in mind for us," he commented, a hint of mischief in his voice as he gestured upward, drawing your attention to the mistletoe above.

When you notice the mistletoe above, your eyes widen. “I uh… I had no idea that was there.” You begin looking down, playing with your fingers. “You can just kiss me on the cheek… or not kiss me at all…. It’s a silly tradition anyways…”

Ruhn watched as you blushed and fidgeted, his heart skipping a beat at your bashfulness. "Oh, a silly tradition, you say?" He took a small step closer, leaning down slightly to catch your gaze. "But isn’t it fun to go along with tradition every now and then?"

He reached out a hand, gently tilting your chin upward, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “The universe clearly wants us to do this.”

“The universe must be out to get me then. Because you and I don’t go together… you’re you and I’m… me..”

"And what's so wrong with that?" Ruhn's voice was a low murmur. He leaned in even closer, the warmth of his presence surrounding you. His gaze bore into yours, intense and mesmerizing.

"I think the universe might be onto something here," he continued, his hand still gently holding your chin. "And I'm not one to ignore these little signals."

“Signals?”, you ask in confusion.

Ruhn's thumb gently traced a line along your jaw, his touch sending electric tingles through your skin as he responded. "Signals," he repeated, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "The way every time we're in the same room, I can't seem to take my eyes off you. The way my heart beats faster when you're near."

He paused, tilting your chin up a little more so that your eyes were level with his. "And the way the universe seems to want us to kiss right now under this damn mistletoe."

“Stop teasing me, Ruhn… I’m not like other females you’ve been with…”

Ruhn gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes softening. "I'm not teasing, and trust me, I know you're not like the other females I've been with. That's part of what makes you so special."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You're not the kind of girl I can toy with and discard. You're the kind I've been quietly and patiently waiting for.”

You mind short circuits. “Can you repeat that?”

Ruhn chuckled softly at your reaction, his eyes filled with affection. "You're not just another conquest, and you're certainly not someone I can use and discard," he repeated, his voice firm and earnest. "You're the kind of woman I've been waiting for, in one way or another, for a long, long time."

“You have”?

Ruhn nodded, a wry smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Yes, I have. I've known you for years, haven't I? And trust me, no other person has caught my eye the way you have. It's not just your looks, it's the way you are. Your wit, your compassion, your strength."

His hand slid from your chin to your waist, drawing you closer. "I can't explain it, but you're the one it seems. The one I've been silently pining for."

You begin to caress his cheek. “What about your father? And Bryce? She’s one of my closest friends and I don’t want to hurt her…”

Ruhn leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly at the feel of your fingers on his skin. "My father's opinions can be ignored," he muttered, as if swatting the thought away like an annoying fly.

He opened his eyes and met your gaze, his expression serious. "As for Bryce, she's my sister, my blood. And she trusts me. She'll understand that this is not just some frivolous thing. She knows me, and she'll know that I would treat you with the respect and love that you deserve."

“Would she be mad at me?”

Ruhn gently cupped your jaw, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "Mad at you? No," he said firmly. "She might be surprised, sure. She might be a little protective, but that's just because she cares for you. But she wouldn't be mad. I wouldn't allow it. She'll see how happy you make me, and that's all that should matter to her."

You nod. “What happens now”?

Ruhn's arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer still. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and filled with desire. "Now," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper, "we stop talking and get on with what the universe clearly wants us to do."

With that, he leaned in, his lips hovering millimetres away from yours, his breath warm and teasing against your skin. "Unless you have any further objections, my lady?"

You shake your head, eagerly bringing your lips to his.

Ruhn let out a low, satisfied groan as your lips met his. His arm around your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his hard, muscular body. One hand slid up the length of your spine, tangling in your hair, the other rested possessively on your hip.

As he deepened the kiss, you could feel the coolness of his lower lip ring against your lips s well as his tongue slipping past your lips, tasting and exploring every inch of your mouth. The Christmas party happening around you seemed to fade into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of you, lost in each other.

Though, you do hear a lot of people cheering you on. In fact, one of the voices you heard was Bryce’s as she mentioned that it was about time that the two of you made a move on each other.

Ruhn chuckled against your lips, pulling back just enough to speak in a whisper that only you could hear. "Looks like we have an audience, love."

He took a small step back so that he could take in your flushed, beautiful face and look out at the rest of the party. Sure enough, everyone was clapping and hollering, especially Bryce and Hunt, who wore matching grins.

“Bryce, you knew about this?”

Bryce, who looked positively gleeful, stepped forward. She placed a hand on your shoulder, wearing a broad grin. "About you and my brother? Of course I did,” she said bluntly. “And honestly, it took you both long enough. I thought I was going to have to lock you two in a closet or something.”

You two laugh for a bit. “Seriously though, are you alright with this? The last thing I want is to make things weird for anyone.”

Bryce's expression softened, and she squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. "Weird? Are you kidding? I'm thrilled!" she exclaimed. "You're like a second sister to me, and I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have in my family than you. And besides...this might put an end to his brooding."

She shot a mock glare at Ruhn, who just smirked in response.

You both giggle at this.

Ruhn chimed in then, his voice teasing and lighthearted. "Oh yes," he said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "I'm known for my brooding, my mysterious silences, my intense staring..."

He took a step closer to you, pulling you against him again. "Clearly, this lovely lady will bring some sunshine into my life," he joked, leaning down to plant a light kiss on your forehead.

As the night progressed, Ruhn kept you by his side, his hand never straying far from the small of your back. Every now and then, his fingers would brush against yours, sending a thrill of anticipation through you both.

The party was a reminder of many things - the closeness of their friends, the support they had for one another. But it was that single kiss under the mistletoe that would have a lasting effect. As it was the beginning of something new and profound.

The realization that the two of you were mates.

[veeisgayasf]

Could I please request a Larissa X reader where they are both just chilling reading by the fire when Wednesday and Enid burst in destroying the one day off they have been able to share together in a couple weeks and Larissa just very lovely and sternly tells them to get tf out and go bother someone else but her office is open tomorrow if they wish to come back and r is just sitting there trying to die from laughter?

Thank you so much for this request. It is such a fun and cute idea and I absolutely loved writing this! I hope you like it!

A Day Off Larissa x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, FLUFF. Cuteness overload.

Word count: 900+

You sat on the couch with your legs draped across Larissa's lap, finally relaxing together. It was the first time you both had the same day off in over two weeks. The fire was flickering brightly, the warmth enveloping you both. Larissa had asked you earlier in the day if you wanted to stop by her office and spend some quality time together. You obliged happily.

You had fought your feelings towards Larissa all through the summer as you both formed a strong friendship. Scared to ruin what you had, you tried keeping your thoughts to yourself but ended up confessing to her that you found her stunning and enjoyed her company. To your surprise, she felt the same. After that, you two were inseparable. 

Larissa had a contented smile on her face as she turned the page of the book she was lost in. One hand came down to draw lazy circles on your lower leg. You sighed in contentment. No one really got to see this side of her, the caring soft side, so you felt extremely lucky to be at the receiving end of it. You reveled in moments like these, as they did not happen often. Once the school year started, you were both swamped with paperwork and meetings. 

You went back to the book you were reading, picking up where you left off. You had probably read the same sentence at least five times, unable to fully focus. Your mind was distracted by the soft stroke of Larissas fingers against your bare skin. The shivers that ran up your leg caused goosebumps to form all over your body. The effect this woman had on you was intense, but not nearly as intense as the love you had for her. The slight smirk on her face made you realize that she was purposely distracting you, a distraction you gladly welcomed. 

Just as you were finally comprehending what you were reading, you both heard shuffling outside the office door. Larissa sat her book down, raising her head up with an inquisitive look on her face. She turned to you and you shrugged your shoulders, unsure of who could be outside her office at this hour. The door came flying open and in walked Enid and Wednesday. “Miss Weems!” They both said in unison. “We need your help deciphering what these symbols mean in this book.” Enid held the book up as she walked closer to you both. “Hello y/n.” Wednesday said without blinking. You smiled in response.

“Miss Addams, Miss Sinclair. You both know that there is such a thing as knocking, correct?” Larissa asked rhetorically, pulling your legs up off her lap as she stood up. You whined at the absence of her contact. “Yes, but Miss Weems, this is important.” Enid said with puppy dog eyes. “We need to figure this out right now.” Wednesday deadpanned. “I’m sure whatever it is can wait for an appropriate hour.” Larissa quipped, towering over the two girls as she ushered them to the door. You stayed seated, pulling your legs up under yourself. You had a feeling this was going to be entertaining.

“Y/n, please tell her this is important!” Enid almost sounded desperate. “Enid-” you tried responding, but Larissa cut you off. “Miss Addams. Miss Sinclair. I understand the importance of trying to figure this out, but this is the first evening I have had off in over two weeks.” She sounded rather annoyed and you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. You always found her adorable when she was annoyed, but you would never tell her that. “If you could just tell us what this me-” Wednesday attempted to talk, but once again Larissa cut in. “That’s enough Miss Addams.” She said sternly. “You and Miss Sinclair need to, and I mean this in the most loving way, GET OUT.” 

If you could have taken a picture of Enid and Wednesday at that moment, you would have. Their eyes went wide and their mouths dropped at those last two words. You had to hide your face to keep from laughing. Larissa gestured her hand to the door, trying to get the girls to leave. The look on her face was priceless. “If you two would like to come back in the morning, I will gladly help you decipher the symbols, but at this moment, my charity has its limits.” She was so stern.

Enid and Wednesday both continued whining to no avail. Finally, they gave up and walked to the door, looking back at you. You lost it at that moment and let out the built up laugh you had tried hiding. Larissa snapped her head in your direction giving you a threatening look which only caused you to laugh harder. She shut the door behind the two girls and turned, making her way back over to where you were sitting.

You were cracking up hard and couldn’t contain your laughter. The look on Larissas face would have intimidated you if it weren't for the fact that it was so damn adorable. She plopped down beside you, nudging your shoulder as she did. “You think that's funny, do you?” she questioned with a small smile creeping up on her face. “Actually, I do. Watching those two trying to get you to crack is not only adorable but funny as hell.” You said, between giggles. Larissa reached over and pulled you closer, planting small kisses all along your face while tickling your sides. You squealed trying to escape her grasp. “Here, let me give you something to laugh about.” Larissa said as she let out the cutest giggle.

In that moment, you knew this was the woman you were going to spend the rest of your life with and in that exact moment, Larissa knew you were the woman she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

[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.