#his hair was always meant to be very loosely tied so it looking so short/pulled back doesn’t make

[arolesbianism]

I’ve been wanting to experiment with noses more for a while, so I finally sat down and forced myself to doodle some concepts.

[sultrydxrling]

absolutely loved your minotaur breeding story <3

part two? 👀

FEM! AFAB READER ON MINOTAUR BREEDING FARM. MILKING/BREEDING/DRUGGING!

PT 2 (Any side characters unless more than once will have a purple text <)

(AS always feel free to send in writing asks and even Suggest. Things for the current stories!)

Everything is color coded. Scroll down to the main section of green text to skip to the porn! / horny stuff!

You bathed and collapsed into your bed, in your bathrobe. It had been a wild night, and you found yourself still horny and reeling from getting your guts brutally re-arranged.

You knew you needed to eat something and decided to order in some subway, praying the delivery guy would be able to make his way through the campus like set up of the farm.

You ordered your food, and after 45 minutes, thankfully, it arrived, and the doorbell to your apartment rang. You loosely tied the robe around yourself, though your large chest was still very prominent, and your cleavage shown just at the top of the relatively short robe.

You answered the door and smiled at the driver. It was a younger man, just some younger, possibly 19-year-old boy with blonde hair, brown eyes, and freckles that lightly dusted his face.

"Hello, is this (y/n)? I have a deli-", He paused, and his pale face flushed red as he saw your chest.

After today, you felt slightly turned on by the staring, and instead of covering yourself, you just smiled at him and held your hands out.

"Yes, that's me." You took the food, and he nodded, walking back down the stairs and to his car.

You brought the food inside and ate, contemplating how often you should do that just to see people's reactions outside of what you enjoy looking at you.

After you ate, you plopped back onto your mattress and fell asleep in your robe.

The next morning, you woke to an alarm you had set for every weekday on your phone and peeled yourself out of your robe. You decided that since your clothes were going to be removed anyway, you might as well wear something easy access, slipping on the bra you were given, an old tee shirt, and a pare of short shorts that hugged your thighs.

You wet and brushed your hair, doing your hair care and lathering yourself in your 'Whisky and Coffee' lotion.

You hoped that if you smelled better that they might pick it up with their sensitive noses. You'd love to be made fun of for seemingly wanting it more - wanting to drive them crazy.

After the lotion, you tossed your hair up into a ponytail, pulling a couple of strands out in the front.

Once you grabbed your things, you left your apartment to see a woman dressed in uniform waiting in a golf cart.

"Hello (Y/N), I'll be your driver! There and back. The Dr will still be the one giving you your injection if you end up needing it. But for the drives, it'll be me.", The slender, darker-skinned woman smiled brightly at you. She looked like she'd been kissed by the sun, and her hair coiled so beautifully. Once she saw you up close, she couldn't help but smile. You sat next to her in the golf cart and said quietly.

"You're very beautiful."

She blushed all the way up to her ears and laughed softly. "Oh you don't mean that. I could never be as beautiful as all of the women here- they and you are so amazing looking.", she scoffed and then seemed to realize she'd included you individually.

You smiled at this endearingly, and she sputtered.

"I'm sorry- was that to foward- I'm new to this and don't want to make you uncomfortable. "

You giggled and placed your hand reassuringly on her thigh,

"Nono, it's ok. I know what you meant. And thank you. I think you could actually do this if you wanted. If there were any spaces available, of course. Daniel? I think I'd like the managers name. He seems super sweet and understanding. Maybe speak to him about it if you think about it."

She looked taken aback by the suggestion but nodded politely. You really didn't want to overstep but hoped she'd take it as a compliment. She was however, too busy thinking about being suffocated by your breasts and thighs to really have been offended.

"I think I'd like to stay your driver. You seem nice!"

She pulled up next to the stables and stopped the golf cart.

"Alright, ma'am! Here we are! I'll see you when you get off work."

You smiled and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek before hopping out of the cart and making your way into the stable. On your way in, you see Dr Sylvia in your stall waiting for you. She looks you up and down.

"Do you need help getting undressed?" You thought about it and couldn't help but want her hands on you.

"Please." You smiled and lifted your arms for her to help you out of your shirt, and she lifted it off for you, setting the discarded clothing on a stool to the side. She helped unclip your bra and helped you shimmy out of your shorts.

She couldn't help but gawk at your thong. You smiled proudly but did your best to hide it as she slipped them off of you.

"Alright, for now I'm just going to run a couple of general physical tests to make sure you're fit to work today."

She gently took one of your breasts into her hands and massaged it roughly.

"Does this hurt any?"

She kept a straight face but was clearly enjoying groping you. You shook your head, trying to keep a dumb look off your face. She swapped breasts and squeezed once more.

"What about this one?"

You shook your head again and kept up your smile. It took everything not to beg her to keep touching you. You'd love it if she put you in that machine and had her way with you.

"Good. Do you want your shot today or no?"

Your face flushed. "I think I'd like it every time - you can refrain from asking next time-" you mumbled lightly.

"I kind of liked not knowing I was being drugged-",

She smiled mockingly and raised an eyebrow.

"Not a problem. Whatever makes the experience more enjoyable for you, sweetheart."

Your soul melted at the probably frequently used nickname. You knew she more than likely called all of her patients various nick names and treats them the same way, but some part of you daydreamed that your body was her favorite.

She gently guided you and strapped you down by the wrists and ankles as you straddled the adjustable bench. She elevated the back. Putting you at a slight incline before injecting the serum.

She walked in front of you, holding your face for a moment as she stood there. The woman made you look up at her and smiled down at you almost mockingly.

The way her red hair sat in her messy bun drove you insane. She was so gorgeous, and the way her eyes showed when she looked at you like you were nothing - ugh.

She slipped her thumb over your lips before slipping out of the stall.

"Have fun, doll."

Your pussy ached, and you couldn't help but let out a soft whine as the drugs started to take effect.

A familiar buzzing sounded, and you heard the metal doors creak open. You were waiting on the sound of praise from your beloved bulls from yesterday but were met with two entirely different voices. One rumbling lowly, almost scarily close to a gruff growl.

"She seems new- she's super fucking hot though. What do you think about this one, Jake?"

A large figure passed you, seemingly larger than even the bulls you'd met yesterday and a heavy blush covered your face as you were met face-to-face with his giant cock. You drooled almost instantly.

"Her tits are huge - he looks like she'll be lots of fun."

They looked at you like meat, and you were so into it. The drugs made your head feel hot and swimming thoughts as your head flooded with all of the things they might do to you.

The one who was apparently named Jake pulled a leaver under your head, and the headrest folded back, causing your head to fall limp back over it. He pressed his tip to your mouth and smiled.

"Start sucking."

You didn't know how you felt about his tone, but it seemed to make you even wetter. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. He smirked down at you and grabbed your throat, then without warning or prep, shoved himself down your throat.

"God- damn it that's so good-",

The other followed suit by pressing his tip to your needy hole, he teased himself by tip fucking you for a few minutes, every time you felt you were getting close, he'd pull out.

After a few times of that, he shoved his full length into you, pressing himself against your cervix.

He pressed down on your lower stomach/ bladder while he moved inside of you, just to see the imprint of his length through you.

you moaned as they began to move faster, slamming their hips into you, Jake groaned as your moans vibrated your throat against his cock.

"Fuck~ just like that-", Jake groaned and huffed,

the other bull moaned out, "I wanna fuck her ass, it looks even tighter than her pussy-"

You blushed as your mind swam. You'd never done anal before and heard it was quite painful, but all you could think about was the two creatures using you.

"You know- we might be able to break the cuffs and have some fun. We'll just clamp them back after. What do you say, Liam?"

"I say what are we waitting for?," The smaller bull smirked and gripped the ankle cuffs, prying them open one at a time with a great deal of effort, being the cuffs were assumedly made to prevent this exact scenario.

Jake did the same to the arm cuffs. You tried to get up, to struggle, to move, anything. You found that you couldn't move. You'd never noticed before because you were tied down and couldn't move anyway, but now you could feel the active numbness in your skin.

"Awe, I think she's trying to get away~" Liam cooed at you as Jake took you into his arms. He wrapped your legs around him, holding you up far enough to drop you down onto his throbbing cock, you moaned out and he kept one arm around your waist and shoved one of his huge fingers into your mouth.

Liam walked up behind you and held your ass up, gently pressing his tip against your ass hole, he probed for a moment, pushing in just enough to open you up.

Your body felt so limp that you could feel your own weight, pulling you down against their lengths. you couldn't hold your head up, so you rested against Luke's chest.

you felt a sharp pain and cried out weakly as the smaller bull forced himself into you, his warm chest against your back. You could feel his breath in your ear, his grunting causing your pussy to leak cum down your thighs.

His cock seemed to rub in all the right places and you couldn't help but drool. As the drugs reached their full effect, you felt like you couldn't possibly take it or be more full, you thought they were going to rip you in half from both ends, and you were hungry for it.

Once you were filled by both of them, they both held onto your hips and helped each other pump into you. They moaned and cursed into your ears.

They occasionally praised you, fondly licking at your cheeks as they used you. Luke leaned down and put your neck roughly, just barely keeping himself from drawing blood.

"Careful Jake- I'm going to fucking kill you if we lose another week's worth of privileges-", Liam spat at the other as he thrusted into you.

You could feel their knots pressing against your holes, begging for entry. They were both in your guts, their cocks rubbing against eachother through the thin layer of skin between your entrances.

You managed to muster a quiet sentence, almost not heard over your money and whimpers.

"Please cum in me~", you begged them,

"You hear that? The pretty cow wants our cum- how bout we fill her up and swap. We should spend all of our time wisely."

He chuckled mockingly into your ear as they both made an effort to thrust faster, occasionally lifting you higher to tease their tips.

"Fuck- fuck I'm so close- take my knot bitch-"

This caused your pussy to clench roughly around the bigger bulls cock as you squirted, covering his stomach and strong thighs.

As you came, your asshole checked around Liams length, he moaned lewdly before thrusting his knot violently into you, spewing his cum into your virgin hole.

His cum was so hot and thick, you could almost feel it in your stomach, you didn't think you could be any more full.

Until Jake pushed his knot unto your dropling cunt, you screamed as their knots rubbed together inside of you, milking themselves. Their grunts were enough to make you cum again as if their knots didn't.

He jammed his head against your cervix, using that to further milk himself as your guts rubbed his sensitive tip just right.

His cum seemed to be even warmer, it was so think and filled you so well that it leaked down over his cock and down your thighs.

They panted softly, and Jake lifted you off of them, allowing Liam to lay down on the bench you had been clamped down to.

The bigger bull gently layed you onto of the other, your tits resting softly against his face. Liam groped them roughly, causing milk to sport out softly against his face. He snickered,

"Oh yeah, I forgot that we were breeding a milk cow - she's one of the special ones."

Liam took both of your sensitive nipples into his mouth and sucked aggressively, groaning happily as your milk filled his mouth.

You could feel his head prodding at your entrance and leaning back against it, helping him enter you.

Jake came up behind you and thrusted into your now comfortably stretched hole, still rubbing against all of your sensitive spots. As he moved, Liam began to pump gently into you.

He moved casually, just enjoying the sensation of you as he drank your milk, and you only squirmed lightly as he groped and massaged your breasts.

"I think the drugs are wearing off. But she's behaving so well- think we should pick up the pace for her? She's doing so good and looks like she could really use our loads-"

Jake smirked as his hands slipped to your hips, his big hands gripping them roughly.

The smaller bull nodded half-heartedlyas he teased your nipples with his tongue and began to move faster into you, their cocks once again rubbing against eachother with only your thin walls to separate them.

Your tongue hung out of your mouth like a desperate dog and you could still feel their cum on your thighs and leaking out of you like a creame filled donut.

You whimpered and whined as they moved, and the feeling of Liams tongue on your nipples sent a signal to your sloppy cynt that you couldn't describe, a pulsing in your clit-

You reached down between your legs and rubbed desperately, the sensations driving you insane.

The smaller bull let go of your breasts and grabbed your hands roughly. He held them together over his shoulder, which caused you to elongate yourself, your back arching further against Jake.

He took happily to this, smiling dazedly as your ass pressed against his length, causing him to go even deeper.

Without the extra cum in you you imagined he'd split you in half, you almost wanted another dose of the drugs, you imagined the warm dazed feeling flooding your head like the few times you'd had to many drinks.

"Fuck I love how she sounds- she makes so many cute noises when she's getting her guts peniteated."

Liam cooed this into your ear, and he grabbed your throat. This was almost better than the drugs, the static flooded from your neck where his strong hand gripped, moving up to your already foggy brain.

Your vision flooded in and out as he let go right before you felt like you were going to pass out. You could feel their cocks throbbing against your walls, and their knots had grown back to their full size, slamming against your entrances.

Liam huffed and used both hands to use your throat as his leverage, pounding mercilessly into you.

You squeezed in excitement as you felt yourself getting close to your own climax once more.

Jake chuckled and pushed the back of your head into Liams chest. Your tongue still hung out of your mouth, Liam mocked,

"I think our milk cow might be part mutt-", He looked down at you and gripped your throat as tight as he could with both hands before pushing his knot as hard as he could unto you, Jake following suit.

Their cum flooded your guts and at the same time, you whimpered and whined loudly, screaming out as you squirted against Jake's thighs, the cum running down your own thighs onto Liams legs.

They both rested inside of you as their cum spewed against your walls, once again bursting out of you and around their cocks.

When they pulled out, another stream of cum sprayed on your back and stomach. They panted and gently lifted you and placed you back onto the chair face down, clamping the cuffs back around your limbs.

They both came around to your face and licked at your cheeks softly.

"We had a lot of fun, pretty cow. Hope we get to see you again."

Jake winked and walked away to the back door of the stall.

"Hopefully, well, see you later, Mutt."

Liam granted you a small head scratch before walking away with the other.

Soon after, Dr Sylvia walked into your pen and to your little bench. She examined the bars and groaned.

"I swear - these two do this every time. Did they take you out of your restraints?"

You nodded softly and tried to speak and managed to weakly,

"Yes, but I had fun.."

She shook her head softly and pressed the button to unclasped your cuffs.

"Yes, but what if they do this to someone who doesn't? It also just generally isn't safe for the cuffs to be all bent uo like this. Don't you worry though, sweetie. I'll get this all sorted out. Now let's see if we can get some of that milk out of you, huh?"

Her velvety voice slipped through your ears, and you smiled, pressing your chest out slightly, hoping to make it easier for her as she lowered the breast holding arm.

"Thank you, darling."

She cooed and gently attached the pumps to your nipples. A decent amount of milk still cane out, but only half of the container was filled compared to last time.

She clicked her tongue.

"And they took most of your milk - unbelievable. Next time, I'll give you double the dose."

She shook her head and smiled at you, kissed your forehead, and helped you get off of the table.

She helped you into your robe and handed you your clothes, and carried the milk pump to the golf cart. Sylvia offered your arm to assist you as you stepped into the seat, and your assigned driver looked over at you and blushed.

You looked an absolute mess and she couldn't help but stair as the cum that coated the top of your cleavage.

"See you tomorrow!"

The Dr waved goodbye to you and smiled.

Your driver kept quiet most of the ride, which seemed to be nice considering the shift you'd had.

Once she pulled up to your apparent, she helped you up the stairs and into your apartment.

"You haven't set up your bed yet?"

You shook your head and fell onto your mattress. She pouted softly and pulled out her phone.

"I'm going to have the staff come and help you set up. It's not too late, so I'm going to have them come help. Do you have a couch?"

You nodded lightly and gestured to the living room.

"Come on then. You can lay there until they help you with the bed. Where's your bedding?"

You pointed at the closet,

"it's in a clear bag, the one it came in."

She nodded and helped you to your couch, which was drowning in boxes in your living room. She stepped to the side once you'd laid down and made a couple of calls. You could barely make out what she was saying before you fell into a light sleep.

You woke up to the woman gently shaking you awake. Most of the boxes were moved out of the way to make a path to the different rooms and open up some floor space. She helped you to your room, and you saw your bed frame set up and your bedding laid out.

This made you smile, and you thanked her. You walked into your bathroom, and your driver saw herself out, locking the door from the inside before closing it.

You bathed and slipped happily into your soft sheets and cozy, fluffy duvet; dreaming about your wonderful night.

[hevanderson]

hi. take some glestern style descriptions. also i must preface by saying this is NOT historically accurate nor is it meant to be. this is based off of vibes alone. thumbs up

quinn: early on, she wears very modest outfits. high collars and skirts that go to the ankles. flat shoes. long sleeves and/or impractical lacy gloves. light colors, particularly blue and white. long hair, either all down or partially up and partially down. cross necklace is always on. classy, expensive looking jewelry, particularly bracelets. later, she wears pants that are clearly second-hand and in relatively poor condition, stolen. big, button up work shirts that are also not in the best shape. the buttons are never fully buttoned. her hair is now short, think her season 3 hair or s2 new york hair. no more cross necklace, and minimal jewelry, if any at all. more durable shoes meant for working. a belt with a holster to carry a gun. carries more practical gloves in the pocket of her pants. darker color schemes with a lot of neutrals. most of her clothes have some visible stress on them

santana: darker colors. a decent mix of tight and loose clothing– usually, her tops are tighter and her bottoms are looser. big fan of shorts and shorter skirts. moveability is a priority for her. likes necklaces, but doesnt own many. the ones she own are from her family and tend to somewhat clash with her outfits but she wears them anyway because she loves her family. ties her hair up when working, high ponytail, no bangs. when shes working with sue's gang, she layers up as best as she can and goes for all loose clothing so its easier to move and sneak around. her hair is tied into a low ponytail to keep it out of her face. at work and in everyday, she wears boots with a mild heel, but when shes on duty for sue she wears discreet flat shoes to avoid making sounds. for the same reason, she also doesnt wear jewelry while working with sue's gang

puck: dark colors. darker blue jeans that have been worn quite a bit. rips in the jeans. black cowboy boots are always on, and are rather simple with no designs in them. shaved head. off duty, he occasionally wears a cowboy hat. he wears button ups that are, of course, never fully (or at all) buttoned. the sleeves to these shirts are often rolled up to his forearms. tattoos on his arm, hand-done of course, random doodles he thinks make him look badass. always has a gun in his belt holster, conveniently placed right in front of his crotch. gross

tina: dark colors strike again, but her outfits have accents of blue. gloves, dyed black leather with the occasional lace. high collared shirts paired with intricate silver necklaces, usually adorned with blue gems. long, ruffled skirts. her outfits between working and day to day dont change much, although she sometimes will wear subtley striped black pants when working. always in heeled boots with looping stitched details in blue thread. her hair is plain back and usually down, but, occasionally when shes working at the saloon, she'll pull it into a low ponytail or braids. wears a black leather crossbody satchel. no guns on her but just in case she does carry around a small knife with a sheath

brittany: finally a break from dark colors. brittany primarily wears whites and lighter colors, particularly blues, pinks, and oranges. a wide collection of white shirts she's customized, either intentionally or unintentionally– grass stains, paint splatters, patterns stitched into her shirts. she keeps it loose. overalls enjoyer, usually wears a blue pair that have doodles and practice stitches all over them. she generally prefers pants and shorts, and usually wears light blue denim. if she does wear a skirt, it is flowy but not long, and must have some form of pattern on it (she likes florals the most). her hair is equally spent down as it is spent up; either, it is everywhere and flowing freely (usually when shes just out and about), but when working on her farm or performing she ties it up into a high ponytail, but leaves her bangs out (think her early s2 bangs). when shes working for sue, she borrows clothes from santana. she also ties her hair into a ponytail and pins it into a large, rather impractical, hat she wears. her gang clothes are dark, both to obscure her identity and to give her more security under darkness

mercedes: glamorous and colorful. the largest parts of her outfits are usually black or dark brown, but anything else is bursting with color. when performing, she wears darker high-low skirts with ruffles in purples, pinks, and reds depending on the costume. more corset-like tops that have ruffles lining the top and spilling over onto the off-the-shoulder sleeves. feathery headbands. gloves that stop at her wrists and are complimented by bejeweled bracelets. tights with some subtle patterns in them in a darker version of what her outfit's accent color is. tall boots that are just a little impractical to walk in. when shes off duty, she still wears skirts, and they range from stopping at her mid-thigh to coming down to her ankles. flat shoes that are comfortable to walk in. she wears the same bracelets, but loses her gloves and headband. her shirts have a similar construction to her performance ones, corest-y and off the shoulder, but when shes just lounging around or creating costumes she wears more relaxed tops– button ups and things like that. no matter what, though, she likes to have a lot of color. her hair, both on and off duty, is most similar to her s1 pilot hairstyle. no weapons, she tries to be a pacifist when she can

sam: light colors, but a bit less soft than brittany's color schemes. cool colors, blues and greens with some greys. his hair is similar to late s2. king of plaid button ups, and he wears them buttoned to the very top bc he takes his job as sheriff seriously. occasionally wears a grey cowboy hat that has his name stitched into the inside of it (courtesy of mercedes). his shirt is always tucked into his blue jeans, which have very faint grass stains and places that look like theyre on the verge of tearing. brown cowboy boots always. if he wants to class his outfit up, and he does abkut 50% of the time, he'll pair his shirt with a brown leather vest and, of course, a bolo tie. he also wears a belt with a medium sized round belt buckle. he has a holster on his belt but rarely has a gun in it because he honestly hates resorting to violence despite his job

[justdreamersdream]

Complete (Eddie Munson story)

12. I am no reward

Eddie reached up to the cupboard and put down the breakfast tray.

"And if you'd looked here, you could have saved yourself the stress." "I'm sorry I woke you up like that. I had planned to make it gentler." "Then I'll go back to bed and let you do your thing." Eddie pressed a kiss to her hair and returned to the room.

Alissa, with a smile on her lips, placed the prepared breakfast and coffee on a tray and walked into the room where Eddie was curled up in bed sheets, pretending to sleep.

Eddie heard her walk in, so he closed his eyes, waiting to see what she would do, but he watched with a half-opened eye as she bent just in her panties, placed the tray on the floor, and knelt on the bed next to him.

"Good morning, sir." she whispered in his ear, sending shivers up his neck.

She ran her lips over his earlobe, along the jaw and she ended up at his lips. Eddie started kissing her back, cheerfully pulling her under him and leaning on his elbow next to her to keep himself from lying down on her.

"Well Mr. Munson." Alissa started laughing. "You are in a good mood." "I have a beautiful girlfriend. My good mood comes with that." he kissed her again, Alissa felt that it wasn't just Eddie's mood that was growing up. "Don't you want to eat first?" she suggested, but Eddie was already tracing her neck with his lips. "Oh, screw the food."

They ate their breakfast late and cold. After meal, they cleaned up together and lay down on the couch, both having a playful mood.

"What now?" Alissa broke the silence. "Are we going out? We can get something to eat, we'll take a blanket, there's a nice forest in the back. You can walk to the canyon from there. We can take a bath." "Sounds good to me." Alissa was delighted. "I'm going to get dressed. Are you coming?" "I like what you're wearing now." Eddie tugged at her shirt. "Keep it." "And what will you have?" "I'll make a new one." he waved his hand. "I made a T-shirt for every member." "Mine too?" "Especially yours. It was done at very Friday night you played the first game with us." "And if I didn't join you?" "Oh honey." Eddie laughed. "I knew from the first moment you're gonna join us. We are meant to be." "And yet you didn't want to accept me at the beginning." Alissa dragged Eddie into the room, where she took a pair of shorts from her backpack and tucked Eddie's t-shirt into them. "You're Carver. Jason's sister. I'm still in danger of getting beaten up somewhere outside the school." Eddie smirked. "I really believe he'll come to his senses and accept you the way I accepted Chrissy." Alissa looked around the room. "What are you looking for?" Eddie noticed. "Something for the hair. A bandana or something." Eddie opened the closet and pulled out a black bandana with white skulls on it from the top shelf. "Something like that?" he handed it to her. "That's great." Al took it off and tied it in her hair.

She pulled out Eddie's ring on a chain from under her T-shirt and let it hang loosely on the T-shirt.

"All done." she turned to Eddie. "Is it okay?" "You look stunning. As always." but he was most pleased that she was wearing his things.

Eddie packed a blanket in his backpack and put a bag of dry goods, papers and a lighter in the side pocket. Leaving the safety of the trailer, they walked around it and Eddie led Alissa into the woods where he knew a nice place.

"Do you have any plans for the holidays?" Eddie asked. "I gotta work." Alissa sighed. "I got a job this week. And since it's holiday, the arcades will be full." "Oh." Eddie stopped. "And again from four to ten?" "Exactly." Ali waved her hand. "And the time I'm not at work, I'll spend with my boyfriend." she smiled. "Such a happy guy, I can tell." Eddie smiled. "No happier than I am when I'm with him." Alissa poked him in the ribs. "I hope there's no one in the canyon." "Why?" "I'd like to sunbathe while we're there. And I won't if someone were to watch me." Eddie looked at Alissa with a raised eyebrow. "You can." she laughed. "At least that way." he kissed her. "We'll find out soon if we're gonna be alone."

They came out of the forest onto a pebble path, ran down the slope and stood on the shore of the lake.

"Looks like your wish will come true." Eddie spread the blanket and threw his backpack on top of it.

He and Alissa stripped down to their underwear, Eddie sat on the edge of the blanket and Alissa lay down in the sun with her head in his lap.

"You look funny from below." she smirked. "Whatever. You look fucking great from below, dear." Eddie laughed when he saw Alissa blush. "I would say it's my favorite view of yours." "You're an idiot." she stuck out her tongue, rolled onto her stomach and let the sun's rays burn her legs and back a little. "My idiot." she whispered as Eddie slid down next to her.

They lay next to each other without saying a word for a while, Alissa's eyes were closed, but Eddie couldn't take his eyes off her.

"I can feel it." she smiled. "I can feel you looking at me." she turned her head towards him. "It's not my fault. I still feel like I'm dreaming. That when I turn around you'll be gone." he admitted, rolled onto his back, pulled his backpack under his head and lay there. "Why?" Ali lifted herself up and turned to him. "I remember when I came home last Monday after I dropped you off at work, I thought a girl like you would never fall in love with a freak like me." he fixed his big sad eyes on her. "And less than two days later you agreed to be my girl. So I wonder if fate is just playing tricks on me or what I did to deserve you." "Oh honey." Alissa stood up and sat on top of Eddie who immediately placed his hands on her thighs. "I am no reward for you to deserve me." she ran her fingers over his tattoos. "It looks like we've both been lucky in that way." "How is that?" "Because I couldn't have wished for a more gentle and nicer man than you." she bent down and kissed him. "You underestimate yourself. You have no idea how perfect you are." "You must have heat stroke." Eddie was moved. "You must have- Erm- Heat stroke." he shuddered a little at the end, Alissa copying his jaw and neck with her lips. "Yeah. That would make sense." "Stop talking, Munson." she laughed and connected their lips.

The next two hours flew by. Eddie prepared them both a small cigarette, after which Alissa got so hungry that she almost ate the backpack and Eddie was just laughing at her.

They also got into the water, it was cold and they didn't last long in it, both of them got soaked and preferred to return to the heated blanket.

"Too bad I don't have my camera here." she sighed. "It stayed at yours." "No, it didn't." Eddie pulled camera out with a smile. "What do you want it for?" "We'll take a picture together." she was pleased, set up the camera, put it in Eddie's hand and went over to kneel behind him. "Now point the camera at us and press the shutter." she ordered Eddie.

They posed for their first photo together, which when it came out and dried, was pretty successful and Alissa couldn't help but smile.

"We look really good together." she sat down next to Eddie, but he moved her to his lap and ran his nose over her jaw, Alissa quickly took a picture of that moment, which turned out to be very romantic. "I guess I just found my favorite subject for photography." she admitted, showing Eddie the photo. "This is so beautiful." "Same as you." he winked at her.

[bokettochild]

The Scarf Fic!!!

Inspired by This post by @sekiumiarashi and written as a gift for @into-the-linkverse

I wanted to write Ravio sharing scarves, but I accidentally found that I like writing Ravio, and more importantly, writing him and Legend like they’re a pair of elderly people, because... just because.

Giving Legend glasses was a choice that I didn’t see coming, but do not regret. I do regret Ravio’s naming scheme, but it was too funny to back out so I kept pushing. I’m not sorry that you all must suffer.​

Feel free to read this as being part of my main fic The Ties That Bind, but it can also be separate, just consider the uncle bit as being related to predecessors and stuff.

Enjoy! :)

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir wasn’t wearing his scarf.

 The one constant Ravio knew he could always count on during the war, was that the captain would be wearing that bright blue scrap of cloth with all the pride in the world, no matter what the circumstances (good grief, one time he’d stumbled upon the man bathing and the scarf had been the only thing that saved them both from embarrassment). But today, he wasn’t.

 The heroes had come to stay at Mr. Hero’s house again after a long battle, and Mr. Captain Hero Sir was currently sitting on the couch in the living room, one arm resting across it’s back and his feet propped up on the table. A scowl marred his fine features and his neck was horrifyingly naked.

 “Mr. Captain Hero Sir! Where is your scarf?” The words were out of his mouth in a moment as he looked around the captain to make sure it simply hadn’t fallen off or been laid aside (things the captain would never let happen, ever. He’d once been bleeding out and still managed to keep the trailing blue fabric out of the mud.)

 “It’s shredded.” The captain sighed, a bitter look in his eyes as he motioned down to the arm hanging from a sling around his neck. “And I’m currently unable to mend it.”

 The thought of the captain not having a scarf was so utterly horrible, simply unthinkable, that Ravio didn’t even think about what he was doing, instead bounding over to plonk himself onto the couch and quickly unwind his scarf before rewinding it around the captain’s neck (he had a dozen of these things anyway).

 “There! You can’t be without a scarf.”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir smiled fondly, fingers reaching up to gently stroke the fabric. “And you can?”

 Ravio shrugged. “I have a dozen of those, keep it, it looks fabulous on you!”

 The captain’s eyes sparkled brightly, a familiar cockiness erupting within. “Are you kidding? I make everything look good! Even the Vet’s fashion choices would look fabulous on me!”

  Ravio sniggered. He’d heard and seen plenty of the goods from Hytopia, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Mr. Hero even knew what fashion was. But then again, he was just a simple Lolian; for all he knew, things like bomb outfits and heart shaped collars were absolutely acceptable and normal in this world.

 “But where is your scarf, Mr. Captain Hero Sir?” He asked after a moment, cocking his head on one side as the man looked at him oddly.  

 “Don’t you ever get tired of saying that? You can call me Warriors like everyone else you know.”

 “I know, Mr. Captain Hero Sir, I don’t mind.”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir blinked. “O-kay.” Shaking his head, he answered. “Legend has it. Since I can’t use my dominant hand, he said he’d stitch it up for me.” The captain hero nodded towards the corner of the room, and Ravio followed his line of sight.

 Mr. Hero was perched in that Lolia-awful rocking chair that had been in the house since Nayru knows when. It was a horrid thing in his opinion, old, out of style and absolutely stiff and uncomfortable, and he’d shoved it into the furthest corner of the room ages ago. Mr. Hero loved it though, although he never said why, and he didn’t seem to mind that it was now nearly next to the fireplace all the time, even if he did have to pull it out of the corner to properly rock in it.

 Mr. Hero sat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other one hanging down to gently push at the floor, making the big chair rock steadily. Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s scarf lay in his lap and a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, a needle in his hand as he dutifully labored over the brilliant blue fabric of the famed scarf.

 “His eyesight is terrible.” Ravio snickered to the Captain.

 “But his hearing is perfect.” Mr. Hero’s voice rang clearly across the room, violet gaze darting up to look at them disapprovingly over the top of his spectacles.

 The minute he looked away, merchant and captain shared a grin, only to burst into muffled laughter.

...

 Mr. Smithy and Tune are cold.

 It’s obvious from the way the two huddle in place at the kitchen table as everyone enjoys the meal that Ravio and Mr. Hero have pulled together (Mr. Hero is hesitant to let even the finest of chefs in his kitchen for some reason, despite having stated that Mr. Champion Hero is a very good cook and better than him (at cooking, life, or heroing, he does not specify)). Tune- Wind has all but attached himself to Sky’s side, using the bigger hero as a heat source as he slurps down his warm stew, and Mr. Smithy has bundled himself against the Mr. Rancher.

 It’s only autumn, but both of the smaller heroes act like it’s the start of winter with the way they shiver and rub at their arms.

 Mr. Hero’s only response when he asks is to sigh, but when he presses, his pink haired doppelganger eventually explains. “Their Hyrules were never corrupted, so they’re used to warmer weather most of the time, if not always. The mist from the ocean is the worst Wind knows, and heaven only knows if Four could survive a proper freeze.” Mr. Hero shakes his head, wiping the last of the broth from their meal off a plate with his dish-rag. “If they need something, they know to ask.”

 But Mr. Hero isn’t really that cold hearted, he’s worrying too if the way his brows furrow and the lines around his mouth deepen is any indication. “I offered blankets, but they don’t want them.”

 “Does this happen often?” He muses as he takes the plates from Mr. Hero to dry and put away, and to his displeasure, his housemate nods.

 “When we come here or to Sky’s Hyrule, yeah. Usually, Wars will bundle them up in his scarf, or Sky with his sailcloth, even Twilight shares his fur, but...” Mr. Hero’s ears twitch irritably (truly adorable how they do that, although he’ll never say as much). “Sky’s asleep with his cape, the wolf pelt is a bloody mess after that battle, and I haven’t finished mending Wars’ scarf.” The ears flap again. “That thing is so dang complex and Warriors apparently hasn’t the faintest about the proper cloth to use to mend it. He used new material to mend a hole! Brand new material, Ravio! It’s an awful state and I swear if Styla could see it she’d faint dead away!” The vet huffed as he plunged another dish under the sudsy water of the wash tub. “Using new cloth on a worn scarf, it’s like he wants the thing to be ruined...”

 Ah yes, Mr. Hero’s rants. There’d be no righting this one until he’d fixed the problem, and considering he’d only been torn away from the scarf that lay peacefully sitting on his rocker in order to make food, it was quite likely that once his kitchen was clean again, he’d be right back to working on it.

 Ravio smiled, Mr. Captain Hero Sir would be quite pleased.

 His gaze traveled over to where the hero in question was sitting. The captain and Tu- Wind, were talking on the couch, the younger staring nearly longingly at the rocker and the scarf on top of it.

 Kid really liked that scarf, huh? If Ravio remembered right, half the time during his adventure with Mr. Captain Hero Sir, he’d constantly seen either Mask or Tune hanging onto it.

 Somewhere inside of a bunny head, an idea sparked and green eyes brightened excitedly.

 He’d donned a new scarf just before dinner, but it wouldn’t do quite right, so instead, he darted off to his room, much to the displeasure of his dish partner as his rag flew into Mr. Hero’s face and left his housemate spluttering indignantly.  

 “Ravio! You didn’t finish-”

 “One sec!”

 Mr. Hero’s grumbles followed him out of the kitchen, but faded as he darted into his room and towards his wardrobe. It was the work of moments to select two of his largest scarfs, and less time than that to dart back out to the living room and wrap one around each of the smaller heroes.

 “There! Snug as a kit in a quilt!”  

 Two small heroes stared down at the black and purple fabric that now draped around their shoulders, smiles brightening their flushed faces as Tune buried his face happily in the fabric with a bright hum.

 “Thanks, Ravio!”

 “Thank you.” Four’s eyes glimmered warm brown as he sunk into his seat, only the top of his face and his hands visible beneath the striped fabric.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s eyes sparkled as the man looked up at him, and Ravio fought the blush that rose in his cheeks as he fiddled with his own scarf (he’d mess with his sleeves, but he’d shed his robe to help do the dishes, and his undershirt wasn’t nearly long enough to fiddle with). “Don’t mention it, it’s-” He chewed his lip for a moment before a smile broke loose, the one Mr. Hero said was cheesy and fake, the one for when he was trying to sell things. “It’s a complimentary gift for exceptional customers and/or guests!”

 “We’ve never bought anything from you.” Four deadpanned, eyes glinting with a smile Ravio couldn’t see past all the scarf in the way.

 “Yet!” Ravio chirped back, and darted back into the kitchen to help Mr. Hero finish doing the dishes.

...

 Mr. Champion keeps rubbing his scars.

 The heroes had left for a short spell, traveling off to fight more monsters only to be dumped in the orchard a week or so later (Mr. Hero said it’d been a month and a half for them, but by his time it was a week). And when Ravio said they’d been dumped in the orchard, he meant in the orchard. He’d been busy picking some of the ripened apples before the birds took them all (most of the wild birds knew better, but still, it was the principle of the thing, fresh fruit was rare in Lorule) when a shout and the snapping of branches had sounded all about him.  

 Ravio had shrieked in surprise, thinking that he was alone only to find (once he’d removed his hood again) that there were nine heroes hanging from various tree branches around him, and Mr. Hero himself was hanging upside down, one foot caught in the branches, as his face dangled inches from Ravio’s own, a scowl darkening it as a string of mumbles escaped his room-mate.

 He couldn’t stop himself, he kissed Mr. Hero’s twitching nose.

 Mr. Hero shrieked in surprise, jerking in place and effectively loosening himself from the tree, falling all over Ravio in the process. It was worth it, Ravio giggled as he lay on the ground. Mr. Hero was so like the bunnies in Lorule and their noses simply demanded to be kissed.

 Laughter and grumbles sounded around them, the heroes pulling themselves down from the trees around them.

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. moved with surprising ease, despite his heavy armor, clambering down the tree with the same grace that Mr. Champion did most of the time. Some things never change, he could still see him climbing up onto Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s shoulders in the same manner (only now he rather doubted either of them would attempt to do that anymore, Captain Hero Sir Jr. was much bigger now).

 It felt entirely too natural to lead them all up to the house, Mr. Hero trailing at the back with a bushel of apples in his arms. Settling them all down in the kitchen was easy as could be, and he and Mr. Hero worked quickly to set some fresh apple cider to boil before starting on a meal for everyone.

 He missed not having them all around, it was going to be awful dull when they all had to go back to their worlds when this adventure was over again.

 He was determined to enjoy the moment for that very reason while they all sat about in the living room, sipping apple cider as Mr. Hero had settled down in his blasted rocker, spectacles on his nose and more mending in hand. He never would rest until the light was faded, and Ravio had half a mind to take out his knitting (he was still currently short three scarves) before he decided to simply flop down on the nearest open spot on the couch and just enjoy his cider.

 Except, Mr. Champion was sitting in the seat beside him.

 The young hero kept rubbing at his scars, eyes distant, and despite the numerous amounts of times that either Mr. Captain Hero Sir or Mr. Rancher tried to move his hands back down to the still full mug he was cradling in his other hand, Mr. Champion (he was younger than Ravio though...would Mr. Be an appropriate title for him?) kept reaching right back up to rub his neck and face.

 The scars were enflamed, harsh red and puffy where they peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, and it made Ravio wince to even think of how he’d acquired such injuries that would scar so.

 He only winced more with every drag of broken nails and rough finger pads over the skin, but Mr. Champion- Wild? He could think of him as Wild right? He was kind of the kid’s uncle in a weird way- didn't seem to even notice that he was doing it. Cornflower blue eyes stared unseeing into the fire, face still and only his hands moving.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, worry pulling his lovely face into shadows as he grasped Wild’s hands again. “Wild, hey, no more of that, okay? You’re hurting yourself.”

 Fingers twitched, but no other movement came from the young Champion until Mr. Captain Hero Sir (wait, was Wild also Captain Hero Sir Jr.? Or was he Champion Hero? Oh fiddlesticks, he wasn’t sure anymore) let go, and then broken nails moved right back up towards swollen flesh.

 Ravio shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

 Mr. Hero had spaced out before, did it a lot when the sun set or when he was outside, but he never scratched like that. He sang and fiddled with his rings. If Wild Champion Jr. Sir (oh heavens) did something like that, it would be fine, but this was... this was rather unsettling.

 Ravio shifted in his seat, curling around his mug as Mr. Captain Hero Sir had to reach out to stop the wild-child's hands from reaching the inflamed wounds (the last scratch had broken skin, and a thin trail of red has appeared).

 It was without a thought that he acted, pushing his mug into the captain’s hands and promptly looping his scarf around Wild Champion Hero Captain Jr.’s (oh Lolia help) neck.

 Thoughtless fingers nose just as before, but this time, they brushed against soft fabric. Ravio tensed, dearly hoping that his scarf would not be ripped off or simply pushed aside.

To the surprise of all of them, rough fingers brushed over the fabric, paused, and gently stroked its material. The Champion’s face did not move, but slowly, long fingers ran down the fabric, rubbing it between their tips as cornflower blue eyes blinked slowly. In an instant, the young hero’s gaze was lost to sight as the fabric was nuzzled with all the fondness of a cub nuzzling their parent.

 “He likes scarves, of course he does.” Mr. Rancher chuckled wearily, a tired smile playing over his features as both he and Mr. Captain Hero Sir sat back (but not before Ravio took his mug back).

 “So he does.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, eyes fond as he watched the hero in question curl up on the couch, face lost in purple fabric and bare toes the only moving part of the kid. The wiggling toes were almost like a dog wagging its tail, but weirder, still, he wasn’t one to judge.

 Mr. Captain hero Sir caught his eye. “Thank you, Ravio.”

 “Customer loyalty.” He murmured softly into his mug.

 He caught the way Mr. Hero and the others stared at him though, and he could only be thankful his hood shaded his face enough to hide his pleased blush.

...

 Mr. Rancher needs to wear more color.

 It’s like looking at the photos of Mr. Hero from just before he’d come around. Mr. Hero always fussed at him for going through things, but he couldn’t help but laugh at how odd his room-mate looked with black hair and dark clothes. “You dyed it?”

 “For safety reasons. How many people have you see in Hyrule with pink hair of all things? It was a dead giveaway!”

 “But you’re the hero?”

 “A hero whose face was plastered on every wanted poster in Hyrule. Still is in some cases.” Mr. Hero had grumbled, folding the last piece of newly clean washing and throwing a pointed glare in his direction. “Life on the run sucks. I was thirteen and just wanted to be ignored.”

 A glance at the dark haired but smiling youngster in the photo and back up to the bitter pink haired hero he knew told him (even if Mr. Hero hadn’t already) how well that wish had been fulfilled.

 But seriously, those photos at least showed Mr. Hero with some color. The most Mr. Rancher wore was that horrid sash and obi, and the orange and blue looked simply terrible with his color scheme, something that, when brought up to Mr. Hero, his friend seemed to agree with, stating that ‘he’d never get into Hytopia’s capitol looking like that’.

 Ravio had never been to Hytopia, but based on the stories and mannerisms Mr. Hero took on after that adventure, he can only agree.

 Originally, he’d hoped he could simply find something among his wares that he could sell to Mr. Rancher, but that proved to only be so effective, after all, when one sells weapons and items, it’s hard finding a normal piece of clothing amidst all the blessed or charmed pieces.

 Oh well, he was counting on ending up sharing the rest of his scarves with them all anyway.

 It wasn’t any dramatic or particularly touching moment when he walked up and slung a clean scarf around the rancher’s shoulders, but Mr. Rancher, after initially starting, smiled as he touched the sun-warmed material. Of course, that expression quickly faded into one of awe as the hero squeezed the fabric lightly.

 Mr. Rancher’s eyes lit up like a dog being given a new toy (Ravio wasn’t stupid, he knew a dog when he saw one) and the man proceeded to continue squeezing and petting the springy fabric with eyes sparkling as if Ravio had just handed him the stars themselves.

 He was down to two scarves now, but it was worth it.

...

Mr. Traveler Hero is small.

He is small, and wild, and the clothes he’s wearing are nearly too small. The traveler is a growing child (never mind that he’s still a teenager himself) and he’s out and about in nearly threadbare garments that leave Ravio shivering at the mere thought of wearing.

And this is the other hero who grew up in a corrupted world where the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it should and the winters are always too long.

Ravio doesn’t think twice when he sees the first signs of cold in the young hero. He’s got two scarfs recently made, and he’s only too happy to share.

Purple and black stripes nearly drown the young hero when he walks over and wraps not one, but two of the comfiest scarves he’s ever made around the youngster's neck.

Like Mr. Rancher, nothing is said or done immediately, but Mr. Traveler Hero smile at him shyly, holding up a hand and scampering over to his bag.

The pair of polished stones he’s given don’t make much sense, but he catches sight of Mr. Hero and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Both smiling over at the two through the doorways.  

“Thank you.” He murmurs warmly, tucking the rocks in his pocket.

“Thank you.!” Mr. Traveler smiles in return, eyes twinkling in the shade of the room and scarf tails flapping like the four wings of a fairy as he spins around to show them to Mr. Hero.

...

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. has nothing comfy to wear.

 Once more, the heroes had been whisked away, and once more they’d appeared at the house weeks later, looking exhausted and utterly soaked.

 The chill autumn rain might be to blame for that.

 Mr. Hero hadn’t even protested that... Wild (he’d just call him Wild, he couldn’t do this title thing this time) had bustled off into the kitchen to warm some tea, and instead promptly collapsing in all his soaked glory onto the couch.

 The other heroes followed suit, and Ravio (like a good host) immediately hopped up and fetched some blankets. Mr. Rancher was already stoking the fire, and with a bit of work, Ravio was able to help Mr. Her grasp what was left of his own steaming mug of cider (his hands were quite the state in this bitter weather) before popping off to the kitchen to brew more of the sweet apply goodness to share with the heroes.

 Armor and over-clothes had been stripped off, sitting wet and dripping in one corner (Mr. Hero eyes it with distaste, knowing just as Ravio did just what that would be doing to the floor) but neither housekeeper said anything, Mr. Hero nursing his cider and letting its warmth sooth his gnarled fingers, and Ravio puttering about with a kettle and mugs to share with everyone else.

 Blankets had been pulled from the shelves and were cast around quaking shoulders as chattering teeth uttered breathy thanks to the purple-robed merchant.

 There was nothing like being thanked for good service, and Ravio beamed as he passed between them.

 That smile faded however when he noticed Captain Hero Sir Jr.

 The man sat in a thin linen shirt and under-armor, looking far from being near the level of comfort that the rest did in their undershirts and pants (or a dress in Mr. Hero’s case).

 Come to think of it he’d never seen Captain Hero Sir Jr. dress in any comfortable manner since he’d come along behind Mr. Hero that first time since they’d started this adventure. Did the poor kid- er... Man, not have anything comfortable to wear?

 While the heroes slept that night, in the two bedrooms and sprawled across the couch, Ravio kept Mr. Hero comfortable, sitting before the fire with his knitting needles while Mr. Hero repaired yet more damaged clothing (poor mister Chosen Hero’s sailcloth had been damaged somehow).

 Usually, one or the other of them would eventually remind the other to go to bed, but both were so wrapped up in their work (Mr. Hero started singing even, that goddess ballad Miss. Princess told hm about) that neither seemed to remember to check the clock, or even to go to bed.

 Come morning, Ravio finds that he has fallen asleep wrapped in the tails of the scarf he’d been making, and Mr. Hero has become entangled in his mending, a peaceful smile on his face, worn fabric brushing his cheeks and spectacles teetering precariously on the tip of his nose.

 Mr. Chosen Hero is the one who wakes them up, stirring awake with a violent sneeze, but he smiles fondly when he lays eyes on them, opening his arms in an offer of a cuddle if either feels inclined to return to sleep. Neither does, but Ravio appreciates it, and even if Mr. Hero doesn’t say as much (quite the opposite really) he knows his friend does too.

 The day is normal, as far as a day with nine heroes in the house can be, and with the rain still pouring, they spend their time cleaning, although Mr. Hero shoos them all away after a time because they’re not doing it the right way (AKA Mr. Hero's very practiced manner of cleaning and organizing). It’s after Mr. Hero had shooed them all into the main room while he organizes the basement (thank goodness, it's an awful mess down there) that the talk starts.

 It’s cold out, and most of the heroes have donned the scarves they’ve been gifted over time (Ravio isn’t blushing, he’s not). Smiles shine and laughter rings as they explain to their brothers how they’d some to have them.

 “And he just... threw t at me! Not a word, not an explanation, just came up and tossed it over my shoulders.” Mr. Rancher chuckles. “Kinda like how my ma would do when I was a tot, jist wrap it up and ‘round soon as the cold weather came a’creepin’ up.”

 The others nod, smiles fond. Ravio beams as he lights the candle set near the masks on the wall.

 “I had one too once,” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Muses aloud. “Back in the war, you remember, Wars?”

 “Do I ever.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir smirks. “I used to tie you up with that thing when you got too rowdy.”

 “You and the general both.” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Chuckles, soft and deep and so different from his nearly witch level cackle that Ravio remembers.

 “What ever happened to it?” He asks curiously, blowing out his match and turning to move towards the rest of the group.

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. Smiles at him, eyes far older but far more at peace than they used to be. “I outgrew it. It was a child’s scarf, even if it was a bit big at the time. I considered bringing it, but it just doesn’t do much anymore.” A thin smile pulls at his features, almost guilty as he admits “I didn’t take the best care of my clothes as a kid.”

 Well, that doesn’t matter over much. Ravio smiles at his young (old) friend, and around him he can hear the others whisper and laugh. They know what’s happening, and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Does too if the twinkle in his eyes is to be believed, so Ravio makes a point of flourishing his gift with all the fuss he can before reverently draping the garment around the tall man’s neck. The eldest hero has to stoop, even from where he’s sitting on the couch, so that Ravio can reach, but it only adds to the mock reverence as Ravio adorns another bare neck with one of his toasty scarves.

 “Mind you take care of that one,” He scolds lightly. “I was up all night making it.”

 “Yes sir.” Captain hero Sir Jr. responds with a playful smile in his eyes, even if his face is the picture of obedience.

 Giggles sound around them, and despite hating it, Ravio takes the only seat left available (he really hates that rocker) and curls up. “You all be quiet now, I’m tired and need a nap.”

 “Okay, gramps.” The sailor whispers faintly, a giggle in his tone as titters and chuckles erupt.

 Strangely, it doesn't take too long for Ravio to doze off, especially when Mr. Hero settles in beside him and starts to rock the stupid chair, humming lightly as fingers work over another project, the light buzz of activity all around them as Ravio allows himself to be carried into dreamland.

...

 Mr. Chosen Hero has caught cold.

 He’s not surprised, not with how drenched the others all were day before last, but the Skyloftian is shivering madly, miserably sniffing into handkerchiefs and trying his best to avoid drinking the nasty herbal teas that Mr. Hero claims are good for people. Ravio doesn’t care if Mr. Hero drinks them, but for pities sake, drink black tea if you’re going to drink tea! What sort of decent being are you if you’re just drinking plant water?

 “Legend, I’m serious, I don’t-” Mr. Chosen Hero breaks off coughing. “I don’t think tea will-” Another cough, nastier than the last. “I don’t think it will help.”

 “Trust me.” Mr. Hero already has a small table pulled up to Mr. Chosen Hero’s side, tea and handkerchiefs both set carefully on top. “Tea’s just what you need. Eucalyptus does wonders for a cold.”

 “He’s right.” Mr. Traveler Hero chimes in, gaze warm and sleepy as he sips some of the tea himself. “And it’s got a calming effect.”

 Mr. Hero cocks a brow. “What are you, ‘Rule, a koala?”

 No one knows what that is, except Mr. Traveler Hero, but it doesn’t seem to matter much, as Mr. Chosen Hero breaks into another coughing fit and bundles a blanket closer around his shoulders, voice hoarse when he speaks. “I wish it’d stop raining. I didn’t even realize-” A cough sounds and is followed by a sniffle. “I didn’t realize the surface got so wet.”

 And Ravio sees where this is going, the shivering hero, the gentle atmosphere. He doesn’t bother waiting for Mr. Chosen Hero to sniffle again, he just wraps a scarf around the man’s neck, tucking it in close enough to keep the heat in.

 The smile exchanged is silent, and Ravio is thankful that the others aren’t about at present to tease, only Mr. Hero and Mr. Traveler Hero are here with them, and neither says a word as they sip their leaf water.

 “I’ll make you some real tea.” He murmurs softly, offering a wink and a gentle pat to the knee before he’s off towards the kitchen.

...

 Mr. Hero doesn’t have a scarf.

 It was glaringly obvious, as whenever the rest of them appeared at the house, they'd all be wearing their Ravio gifted scarfs proudly, smiles on their faces as the ends trailed or dragged after them (despite that, they were all in perfect condition).

 But Mr. Hero didn’t have a scarf.

 He was never going to get one either.

 They’ve all just returned to the house (it’s been two months since the last visit) and the snow outside it up to Ravio’s waist in places. It took him ages to shovel himself out of the house, but the harvest of apples is in and the bees are well prepared for the winter, and Mr. Hero finally tidied the cellar enough that they have room for food storage aplenty.

 Cider and tea are brewed as the heroes gather, fluffy socks and scarves on full display as they sit around the fire.

 Mr. Hero is shivering.

 Curious glances are thrown at both himself and Mr. Hero as the heroes drink their beverage of choice, concern in their gazes as Legend eventually gets up to pull the most ridiculously bulky quilt in the entire house over his shoulders. He’s all pink in the face and he’s shaking like a leaf, and it’s only because he won’t hold still that Ravio hasn’t attempted to try and help him hold a warm mug enough for his fingers to relax.

 Mr. Hero moves like a man thrice his age, if not more, and he creaks worse than the roof does in the wind outside.

 “Where’s your scarf, vet?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir murmurs softly, one brow raised as he watches Mr. Hero fumble with the quilts edge.

 “My what?”

 Glances are exchanged among the others. “Your scarf? The one Ravio gave you?”

 “I don’t have a scarf.” Mr. Hero answers, dropping the quilt again with a scowl that makes his nose wiggle.

 “But” Cornflower blue dart between himself and his housemate. “Aren’t you two friends? How do you not already have a scarf? Even Time did!”

 “It’s a customer service thing.” Mr. Hero murmurs. “I’m already a loyal customer, so he doesn’t waste resources on trying to earn my loyalty. That, and I don’t wear purple.”

 He shakes his head, loosening his scarf as the eyes of the others twinkle, but rather than taking it off, he only loosens one end, before wrapping it tightly around his friend’s neck, fluffing up the quilt in both of their laps, and settling a warm mug of cider in Mr. Hero’s hands.

 “Nonsense!” he chirps, trying not to be hurt at the obvious surprise on his friend's face, so he muses Mr. Hero’s hair instead. “You have every item I offer except this scarf. Why would you keep buying from me if you get it? I have to keep you from having one until I get something better in, otherwise business will plummet!”

 Knowing smiles are exchanged amidst the others, but Mr. Hero just sighs and shakes his head, leaning slightly into Ravio’s side as he sips his cider.

 A bitter expression overtakes Mr. Hero’s face. “You forgot the cloves.”

 “Oh shoot!”

[triplexdoublex]

Pornstar

Pairings: Colson x Reader

Warnings/Tags: rough sex, anal sex, face fucking, gagging, spit, spitting in mouth, slight bondange, golden showers, pissing in mouth, slapping across face, being filmed.

A/N: Shout out to Shawnie ( @heytheregreeneyes) for always letting me use her as my OC and being my best friend. Also Colson isn’t MGK in this, just a pornstar so his personality isn’t as cocky as he usually is. I know I’ve mentioned it before but the sex in this is loosely based off my fave porn star Small Hands AKA Aaron Thompson. Hope this was worth the wait. Lemme know what you think! “Open it, open it!” Your roommate and best friend Shawnie stood before you with a gift bag in hand, shaking it excitedly.

“My birthday’s not even until this weekend,” You laughed taking the bag from her. “You sure you don’t want me to wait? It’s only a few more days.”

“ No please, I’ve kept this a secret for long enough, it’s killing me! Just open it!” She exclaimed. “Plus your gonna need time to prepare.”

“Prepare?” 

“C’mom, just open it, open it, open it!!!” She was far too excited. You wondered what it could be that she was so eager to give you. But what you pulled out of the bag just left you with even more questions. 

“Thanks???” You said confused, holding up a sexy red lace bra and matching g- string that tied at hips. 

“That’s only part of it,” she assured you. “What’s your biggest wish?” She tried to clue you in.

“Ummm paying off all my student debt?” You answered still puzzled. “Did you get me a job as a stripper?” You laughed.

“Okay, maybe ‘wish’ was the wrong word to use … hmmm—oh biggest fantasy!” She corrected herself. 

“Oh to fuck my favorite porn star Huge Hands, AKA Colson Baker. You know that — wait … no, no way!”  You exclaimed as your friend started frantically nodding her head yes. “Shut up!!! What? You’re kidding. Like how?”

“Look in the bag . There’s more!” 

You reached into the bag and pulled out a pass of some kind and read it aloud. “Huge Hands/Colson Baker : Exclusive Access, Porn Star for a Day pass” 

“They were super limited, I have no clue how I managed to snag one, but I’m so happy I did! The look on your face right now is priceless!” Shawnie laughed. “It’s probably because you’re the only one I know who’s  crazy enough to actually go through with this.”

“I-I don’t even know what to say. I have no words… thank you.” You expressed your gratitude, still in shock. “I’m really about to have the best sex of my life this weekend! On my birthday yet! Have you seen his fucking cock, it’s huuuge!”

“Yes, many times,” Shawnie chuckled , entertained by how pumped you are. “Or did you forget about all the links of his umm ‘work’ you’ve sent me?” Shawnie wasn’t big on porn herself but she was always willing to take an interest in your latest obsessions, no matter what they were. That’s what you loved most about her. “Turn it over, it tells you more about what’s included on the back.”

You did as she suggested, turning the pass over to read more. “Half hour zoom call day before to privately discuss details, and needs/wants of scene; hair and make up; up to one hour of shooting time; and keepsake autographed DVD recording,” you listed off. “You know I’m gonna watch that everyday for the rest of my life, right?” 

“I’m assuming you’re gonna make me watch it at least once too, knowing you,” Shawnie laughed. 

“Yeah probably,” you laughed as well. “ I got no shame!”

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

You’re stomach was in knots as you waited for the zoom call to begin; you’d never felt so excited and  nervous at the same time. Shawnie was there with you sitting just out of frame, when the ‘bloop’ of the call came through your computer's speakers. 

“Hi, Y/N?” Colson questioned.

“Yeah, hi. That’s me!” You did a timid little wave.

“Ok good, just wanted to make sure I got the right person before we get started here. Imagine that … Awkward!,” he laughed, and you instantly began to relax; you could tell he was going to be easy to talk to. “Well, obviously you know what I do , but I’d love to hear a little about you. Says here on your forms you’re a college student?”

“Wait, what forms?” You asked.

“The ones you filled out online with your info and kinks and things you wanted to include in our video when you purchased the Pornstar for a day package,” he answers slightly confused. 

“Ohhh, my friend bought me this for my birthday, she must have filled them out.” You responded. “She’s right here. Say hi Shawnie!”

“Hi!” She giggled leaning into frame. 

“Hello. Wow this must be some “friendship” he joked making air quotes. “Because this is a very detailed list. You gotta hear this.” He smirks. “Written in the section about what you hope to include in our scene says— and  I quote: I want Huge Hands/ Colson to absolutely destroy me. I want him to fuck my throat, my pussy and my ass. I want him to slap me around, and spit and piss in my mouth, and anything else he wants to do to me, I’m all for it.”  He choked out a laugh pulling dramatically at the collar of his shirt “Whew, I’m the pornstar here and that’s even got me blushing!”

“Oh my God, Shawnie!” You covered your beet red face.

“What!?, did I lie?” She laughed.

“I mean no, but still. Damn, to hear it out loud like that.” Your eyes bulged. 

“So it’s true then?” Colson asked slyly.

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” you hid your smile behind your hand, shaking your head in embarrassed disbelief.

“Aye,  no need to be embarrassed, we’re gonna have fun tomorrow, I can tell,” he smiled. “I’m especially excited that your interested in Anal. It’s kinda my favorite. I’m assuming you’ve done it before?” 

“Yeah,” you answered simply.

“Do you enjoy it?” He asked.

“Tell him what your ex said!”  Shawnie blurted out. 

“Oh, boy. I gotta hear this,” he chuckled. “What’d the ex say?”

You inhaled deeply before speaking, “I do enjoy it, probably more than regular sex, if I’m being honest,” you admitted. There was no use trying to be coy now. “Uhhh he actually said I could be a pornstar since I can take a hard anal pounding so well.” 

“Nice!” He exclaimed. “Girl, after my own heart.”

“Jesus Christ, this conversation has me sweating already,” you chuckled standing up to pull your cardigan off. 

“Is that a little tattoo I saw there, peaking out of the top of your jeans?” He asked. 

“Yeah, you wanna see?” You unzipped your jeans without waiting for a response and lowered the top of your underwear just enough to show him. 

“ The Playboy bunny, huh? How fitting,” he teased.

“What can I say, it was my first tattoo,” you giggled “Seemed like that’s what everyone was getting at the time.”

“What else you got going on down there?” He lifted his head as if trying to see more. “Is that a landing strip?” He asked referring to the thin dark stripe of short curls just  barely visible above the band of your lowered underwear. “Can I see?” 

“Yeah, sure,” you lowered them further exposing yourself, your inhibition long gone at that point. “This is just how I normally like to groom. I can shave it completely if you prefer?” 

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he smiled. “Well, I think I have a pretty good idea now of what you like and what we’ll be getting ourselves into tomorrow. Do you have any questions or anything else you want me to know, before we end the call?” 

“I don’t think so,” you said. “Shawnie pretty much laid it all out on those forms,” you laughed. 

“That she did!” He produced a chuckle as well. “I meant to ask earlier, but, since she knows so much about your kinks and what not, have you two ever —“

“ No, just best friends, I tend to overshare, I guess.” 

“Yeah it amazes me sometimes, the things women  share with their friends, but yet guys are always the ones who are known to kiss and tell and brag about their conquests. Females can be just as bad, y’all just keep it on the low a little better,” he stated. “Well, I look forward to working with you tomorrow. Take care, and I’ll see you soon.”

“Can’t wait!” You responded. “Bye.”

“Bye,”

You felt oddly comforted and at ease after the call, no longer a ball of nerves or embarrassment. He made you feel like there was no shame in enjoying the things you did. He was very professional despite the nature of the call; it didn’t feel sleezy or overly salacious; just two consenting adults having a mature conversation about their sexual desires. 

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

When you walked out of hair and make-up and onto set, you saw Colson waiting for you on a red leather couch. He was clad in only black dress pants; shirtless — his tattoos on full display. He smiled seductively when he saw you, beckoning you over with a pat to his thighs. You undid your silk robe they had given you and let it slip from your shoulders to the floor, revealing the red lacy set Shawnie had bought you, as you made your way over to him. You suddenly became very aware of all the cameras and other people in the room, as you sat on his lap. Somehow it has slipped your mind that they were all a part of what went into this.

“You get used to it,” he said softly , remembering the way he felt his first time in front of the cameras. “Just pretend they’re not even there— only me and you, okay?” He said brushing a finger along your thigh. “Unless, Shawnie forgot to mention you’re an exhibitionist too, then by all means enjoy them watching us fuck,” he joked, making you laugh. “Don’t forget, if you need me to stop at anytime for any reason, just give me three quick taps,” he demonstrated, tapping your thigh. “Don’t worry about the filming, they can always edit and piece things back together if needed. This is all for you and I want you to enjoy yourself. Oh and happy birthday by the way! It’s today right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Thank you.”

“Ok, so we’ll just start the scene with some kissing and light touches, and when I feel you’re ready I’ll signal the camera man, he’ll call action, and then we'll be recording.”

“Sounds good,” you nodded your head. He had made you feel so comfortable and relaxed the last bit of nervousness you chalked up to just being slightly star struck; You never thought in a million years you’d get this opportunity.

“Ready?,” he pressed his forehead to yours, staring directly into your eyes, the corners of his mouth turned up into the most alluring devilish grin. 

“Ready,” you echoed back, biting your lip trying to suppress a needy whine. God you were always such a sucker for his killer eye contact in his films, and now you were the one his eyes were soul fucking. You’re heart pounded with excited anticipation as Colson’s face drew nearer to your own. He lightly held your chin as he pressed his lips to yours, parting them to introduce his tongue. It was a welcome greeting, cut short by the breathy “oh fuck ” that involuntarily slipped from your lips.

“”You good?” He laughed softly, a small puff of air the only thing separating your mouths; your foreheads still touching. 

“More...than good,” you spoke in a short choppy sentence trying to compose yourself. 

“That’s what I like to hear,” he smirked against your lips, continuing to kiss you. 

You melted into his kisses— slow and gentle at first,  increasing in intensity as he carried on. When he nipped at your bottom lip with a low groan, you lost all innocence, shifting positions to straddle his lap. You gripped the back of his head, as he kissed you and rolled your hips against him, demanding more. And that’s when he knew … that you were ready.  He quickly signaled to the cameraman with a thumbs up, and “Action” was called. 

His hand slipped down from your chin, settling on the highest part of your neck just under your jaw, his fingers squeezing at your pulse points on either side. Roughly he turned your head to the side with a push of his thumb and his mouth began mauling your neck with an appetite for lust, leaving blooming raspberry patches along the descending path of flesh that lead to your breasts. With one hand he expertly undid the front clasp of your red lace bra and took in the sight of you.

 “Perfect,” he whispered into your flesh with a growl, taking one breast  in each hand as he licked between them, keeping his eyes locked on yours. You slid the silky straps of your lingerie over your shoulders, letting it fall, as he took turns going back and forth between each breast treating each of your nipples to light suction and a pleasurable nibble. You let out a moan at his actions and again rolled your hips in his lap, pressing yourself against the hardening bulge inside his dress pants. “Needy are we?” He teased swiftly  spinning you around so your back was to his chest. He dug his chin into your shoulder peering over it as he snatched up the crotch of your panties roughly, tugging the material up between your lips . You canted your hips up chasing after the friction of the coarse fabric against your clit. “You like that, huh?” He pulled them harsher. 

“Mmmm, yes” you squeaked out, nodding your head.

“Yeah, I bet you do,” he growled nipping at your neck. “Look at this pretty pussy,” he shoved the material to the side exposing you, letting his fingers explore your folds as he pleased. “You want my cock right in here huh?” His voice was so gravelly and low as he slipped a finger inside you, only to quickly pull it back out, teasing you. “Taste yourself,” he brought the finger to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around it, as he slid it further into your mouth, his long fingers slipping down the back of your throat. “Oh, god, yes!” He exclaimed impressed by how you didn’t even gag. “Tell ya what—“ he paused to add a second finger to your mouth, continuing to talk as you sucked “If you can suck my dick as good as that—“   he then pulled them back out of your mouth. “I might just have to fuck you right in here too,” he shoved his spit slicked fingers into your ass.

“Yes, fuck, please!” You whined, wiggling your hips, wanting his fingers deeper.  

“You like that? Huh. You dirty little anal whore!” He grabbed your neck with his free hand, keeping you pinned back against him, the fingers of his other hand still moving inside you.

“Yes, yes! I am,” you strained to speak. “Please, please fuck my ass!” You whined impatiently with pleasure. You never heard yourself sound so needy and desperate in your life.

“You sound you pretty when you beg, but you're gonna have to earn it first,” he demanded pulling out his fingers,  leaving you feeling empty. Quickly, you dropped to your knees in front of the couch as Colson got up standing before you. You waited impatiently while Colson unbuckled his belt above you. Once undone he yanked the belt free from the loops with a satisfying ‘whoosh’ that made you pulse between your thighs. You desperately clawed his pants and boxers  down his legs like a feral cat in heat as Colson brought the tip to your mouth, still holding onto his belt in the other. “Open!,” he demanded. “Goooood,” he growled in praise as you did what you were told. You reached up to grab it but ,“no hands!” he smacked them away, and then secured them behind your back with his belt. “Let’s try this again, open!” He spoke harshly. You obliged, opening wide. “Tongue” he barked.  You let it hang from your mouth with anticipation; eager breaths rolling down it like a panting dog eyeing a steak. He teased you, slapping his cock against your tongue before shoving it fully into your mouth. Your eyes prickled with tears as you fought your gag reflex, taking him down your throat. He held your head in place with one hand , the tip of your nose pressed flush against the coarse hair of his pelvis, as he hunched his body forward over yours untying the sides of your G-string. It slipped from your body leaving you completely nude. Colson smacked your ass, then gripped it harshly, making it jiggle for him before finally standing straight up and pulling his hips back to let you come up for air. 

“Huuuuuuhhhh,” you inhaled sharply gasping for breath, letting oxygen penetrate deep into your lungs before Colson stuffed your mouth again. Mascara ran down your hollowed out cheeks as you sucked. You started pulling back out of instinct when you began to gag but Colson held you in place. 

“No, keep it in your mouth,” he instructed condescendingly, looking down at you. “Just a little longer” he promised. You tried your best, Colson letting out a throaty moan every time your raw, used throat constricted around him as he fucked into it. “Mmmgghh,” he groaned, pulling out of your mouth “Goooood girl,” he praised with a smirk, before bending down to give you a sloppy kiss, swapping mouthfuls of saliva. Just as he pulled away he let a long string of collected spit slip from his pursed lips and into your open mouth, where you eagerly accepted it, moaning as you swallowed it down. 

 You let out a breathy “awhhh” as you opened your mouth again, wiggling your tongue enticingly. 

“Such a dirty, fucking whore,” he bent down again and spat directly in your face. He smeared it all over your face with his hand before grabbing you by the neck, pulling you to your feet. “Turn around,” he ordered. You did as he said and Colson undid his belt from around your wrists. Before you even had a chance to soothe your sore wrists with a rub, Colson spun you around and pushed you down onto your back on the couch, your ass teetering on the edge of the red leather cushion. “Spread yourself for me,” he instructed, as he pumped himself. Again you did as you were told; you pulled your legs up, wrapping an arm around each thigh, holding them back as you parted your opening with your fingers.  “God, you’re so fucking wet.” He teased the head of his cock through the glistening mess on display for him. 

“Fuck me,” you said in an inpatient huff, staring into his eyes. 

“Awhhh, yessss,” he groaned out, slack jawed as he sank into you

“Ohhh, shit,” you screamed out , face twisted in pleasure, your eyes slipping shut, at the feeling of him burying himself deep in your cunt.

“Open your eyes. Look at me!” He spoke harshly, cupping your face in his hands as he thrust. You opened your eyes, trying to focus on his, but your vision was  spotted by the intensity of it all. “Feel good?” He pressed his forehead to yours just as he’d done earlier , starring directly into the windows to your soul as he fucked you. You nodded the best you could, but that wasn’t good enough for him. “Words, I want words. Say yes!”

“Yes.. yes,” you responded breathily, biting at your lip.

“Yeah, Mmmghhh, that’s it. Fuck, I like it when you use your words”  he moaned , shifting himself to be more upright. He then spit on the tips of his fingers and brought them to your clit and began rubbing it furiously, his cock still destroying you.

“OH Fuck!” You cried out, wiggling and bucking your hips. 

“You gonna fucking stay still? He roughly grabbed your face, squeezing your cheeks. You nodded your head, trying your best to calm your body’s erratic, pleasure driven movements as he thrust. “Words!” He spat, his hand letting go of your face only to connect it to your cheek again with a quick, yet harsh slap.

“Shit! ...Yes!” You corrected yourself once again, Your body was  loving how aggressive he was getting the longer he fucked you and he could tell;  spitting at and striking your face again.

“Turn over!”  He ordered, abruptly pulling out. “Hands on the back of the couch.” He roughly assisted you in turning around , and you placed your hands where instructed. You arched your back and pushed your ass out waiting for him to re enter you from the new position. “This is where you really want it, huh?” He teased his cock over your asshole. 

“Yes!,” you remembered to use your words this time.

“You’re a dirty little fucking anal whore, aren’t you? He asked, he question sounding a lot more like a statement. “Let me hear you said it.” He applied pressure to your hole with the tip, as he yanked back a fist full of your hair.

“I’m a dirty little fucking anal whore!,” you repeated desperately pushing back against him.

“Mmmghh!, That you are!” He confirmed with a groan, snapping hips hips forward, quickly entering you. 

“Uhhhhh, Oh my God!” You exclaimed at the feeling. You never fully understood why you enjoyed anal as much as you did, perhaps it was the pleasurable fullness, the taboo aspect, the fact that you were one of the few woman who were into it, or the way so many men were obsessed with it , and the look on their face when they found out you were more than willing to take it up the ass, but you absolutely loved it, and this time was no different. Every jack hammered thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge, especially when Colson reached around to between your legs adding the friction of his fingers to your clit. The sensation of your ass being stuffed combined with his  touch was the perfect recipe for orgasm and you felt it building every time his cock slid in and out. 

“Yeah, cum for me,” he could feel you tightening around him. His words perfectly in sync with the  jolt of pleasure boiling over in your abdomen and ripping through you with vast intensity. A series of explitives and sounds you’ve never heard yourself make, flew from you lips as your body went boneless under Colson. He quickly pulled out, turned you back over and came across your face with a few pumps of his hand. He collapsed to the side of you briefly, before tugging you off the couch and onto your knees. “I’m not done with you just yet,” he spoke out of breath taking his softening dick in his hand. Your eyes lit up, you knew what he was referring too— the only thing on your list of wants he hadn’t included yet. “Say ahhh!”

“Ahhh,” you echoed the request, letting his golden stream fill your mouth, splash off your tongue and dribble down your chin and body. You giggled, piss spilling from your smile as you looked up at him, all your fantasies now fulfilled. 

“Annnd cut!” Called the director. A few stage hands scrambled to bring you both a towel and small refreshments. “Almost done, just gonna get you guys a little cleaned up, rehydrated, let you catch your breath a bit, and then film the little quick, post scene interview. 

“Ok,” you both answered.

Colson tossed his towel over his shoulders and reached out his hand to you “You, good?” He asked with a faint laugh , watching your hand shake as you drank your water.

“Yeah,” you answered letting him pull you up onto the couch. 

“You were amazing,” he said, rubbing your back. He knew the come down from the adrenal rush of scenes could be taxing, especially from rough ones . “You —“

“Ready,” the director interrupted, cutting him short, and immediately pressing record. “So how was it?” the director focused the camera on you first. 

“Oh my god.. mind blowing,” you answered , still out of breath, adjusting your towel. 

“And you?” The director turned the camera to Colson.

“ Absolutely amazing. She was a natural. I’d love to work with her again.”

[moeruhoshi]

I've been watching anime all day so here's a late nalu day gift

Lucy slammed her bedroom door and flopped down on her bed with a weary sigh, weeping into her pillow as her day finally came to an end.

The open door of her patio allowed her to hear the neighing of carriage horses taking away her most recent suitor, a man who barely knew what the meaning of personal space was.

Just how many princes and dukes had to waltz through their gates before the princess’ father realized that they had no interest in adequately courting her? It was painfully obvious how the lot of them were only interested in her well-displayed décolletage over her personality and spent more time schmoozing up to the king instead of trying to win her favor.

What hurt, even more, was knowing that she could never be with the one who was truly meant for her.

She stared at the red string tied to her pinky, the fiber ending far off in the distance where it connected to her destined partner. It calmed her in some ways, allowed her to feel a sense of clarity, knowing there was at least one more person out there who could give her the true love she craved.

She hoped every day, when Spetto called her down to meet another suitor, that it would be him, the one on the other end of her string, waiting to hold her as she wanted to hold him.

They could instead be a peasant, she thought as her hopes for him to visit one day were beginning to fade. Not that she cared about that kind of thing, but it meant that they didn't have the means to enter the castle easily. Or maybe they were somewhere in a neighboring country, too far away to find her. Maybe he hadn't been gifted the power to see the string and didn't know she was waiting for him but felt just as empty without her by his side.

She was sure if she voiced her knowledge of the red string to anyone else, they would call doctors from all over Earthland to analyze her cognitive function. 

But she desperately wanted to tell everyone that she had no intention of selecting a suitor through their gaudy traditions. She would instead venture out into the world to find her soulmate, the person at the end of her red string of fate. But knowing her father, he would only let her marry with the promise of the expanded wealth she would gain him from a political marriage.

"Miss? Are you still awake?" Spetto knocked lightly, the princess holding in her sniffles to hear what the maid had to say. "I'm sure you are…but I won't bother you. Your father wants you to know that he'll be inviting the Duke Cream from Veronica for another visit tomorrow. He's eager to correct his…insolent behavior from the last time he saw you."

The princess didn't bother answering and instead let out a frustrated sigh as the sound of her maid's footsteps echoed down the hall. The setting sun illuminated the crimson strand and her fingers loosely wrapped around it, her weak pout quivering as she tugged on the phantom satin.

"I'd rather have you, whoever you are..."

~000~

"The princess!" Spetto screamed as she ran into the King's throne room. Jude was sat upon his seat with the Duke at his side, their conversation halting at her interruption. "She's gone!"

"What in the world do you mean, woman? I'm sure that no good daughter of mine has just buried her nose in one of those god awful fairy tales again. Have the guards search the library for her," He gruffed, rolling his eyes as her demeanor became more hysterical and shaken.

"I have, your highness! The princess has run away, she's truly nowhere to be found!"

"And just when I was about to be introduced to my bride," The Duke frowned and tossed his bleached hair aside. "Send hounds after her, why don't you? I will not let this girl make a fool of me on this glorious day."

"Go on, then," The King glared at his guards standing nearby who quickly rushed out the door. "I should have known that girl would be trouble. Her mother had always filled her head with nothing but pure nonsense."

Lucy lifted her billowy skirt as she ran through the woods, deep within its darkness, trying her best to ignore the now wailing trumpets of distress audible in the distance. She knew it wouldn't have been long until someone noticed her absence, especially after having heard the reality behind Duke Cream’s visit.

It was by chance, an incident that occurred while she was passing her father's office the night before. Lucy heard the plans he made to arrange her marriage to the Duke, ensuring that their kingdom would absorb the principality. This meant her father would have an entire stronghold on the country of Fiore.

A life with that obnoxious and narcissistic Duke was not one she wanted, nor could even stand the thought of.

So, in a panic, she made plans to run away, leaving when the guards wouldn’t be around, going as far as she could go without any clear signs of which direction she'd taken off in. She persevered through her tiredness with the lone thought of her meeting her soulmate who was sure to greet her with a wide smile and open arms.

"This way! C'mon now, you'll never make it running without anywhere in mind!" A voice tinkled through the line of trees, halting the princess in her place as she breathed harshly and darted around scared eyes.

"Who's there! I-I'm not going back to the castle!" Lucy shouted as she turned about in circles, shrieking as a short blonde girl suddenly appearing from thin air

"Did I say I was trying to take you home? No! Now hurry it up! You'll never make it there if you make stops like this, follow me!" She instructed, turning toward the trees and beginning to run.

"Who are you?" Lucy asked between pants as she followed the shorter blonde, mesmerized by the trail of sparkles she left behind her, and the cute wings peeking out from beside her ears.

"A friend," She smiled as she continued maneuvering them through the woods. "And a guide! You’ll never get where you need to go without my help,"

"So you know where I'm going? You can see my string too?"

"Well, sure! I let you see it after all. Boy, was he worried when I told him you were stuck out here without your magic. Idiot almost killed himself trying to find his way through, but it can't be done by anyone but a spirit." She sighed and shook her head, rambling as they avoided a patch of bramble bushes 

"My soulmate...? He was looking for me too? Really?" Lucy felt her heart swell, beating stronger even as she ran, a dazzling smile taking its claim of her lips.

"Yup! You have a very loyal man waiting for you," She giggled. "He can't wait to meet you, said he'd get his house ready and everything while I was out looking for you. I apologize for taking so long, moving around in this realm isn't easy, there’s barely any magic in this land!”

"Magic? Like in books? Isn't that practice all made up?" The princess quirked a brow as the strange girl only giggled again and slowed her movements as they found purchase under the wide berth of a willow tree.

"It's quite amazing someone like you was born here when your home is with us, in the right Fiore. Now, come on! Everyone's waiting!" She grinned, ignoring Lucy's confusion as she pulled them through the hanging branches, the two suddenly falling into the void of the trunk.

"E-Eh?! W-Wha…!" Lucy fell to her knees as she suddenly felt queasy, holding a hand to her head and waited for her headache to subside. She looked up to see where the other blonde had gone, not finding her anywhere and instead met a new and sunny skyline. "Wasn't it…night just a moment ago?"

She stood to her shaky feet, finding her body no longer weighed down by exhaustion, tears, or dirt on her dress. Whatever was in the air made her feel light as, well, air. She'd never felt so amazing before! Just where had she gone when they fell through that tree?

Taking some small steps through the field in front of her, she looked down to her finger, the red string extending into the distance behind her.

"Oh wow…" When Lucy turned around, she was met with the image of a town she had never seen before, curiosity pulling her towards the bustling streets.

It was as she always imagined the streets of the village she ruled above looked; stalls serving food and selling fresh produce, children running and laughing, patrons bartering and making light conversation, happiness in everyone's eyes. Their smiles created her own, and she followed the string eagerly, feeling just right in the Fiore she’d been led to.

She worried this would all turn into a dream soon enough, there couldn't possibly be another Fiore…or the existence of magic at that. Her steps quickened as she feared Spetto would be in at any moment to wake her, feet carrying her towards a patch of woods that broke off from the town.

It would’ve made nice for a peaceful walk if she didn’t think the calm scenery before her would disappear.

“Oi, Gray, watch it!” A sharp voice boomed from the nearby distance. 

“Shut it! I know what I’m doing, it ain’t hard to paint a wall, flame brain!” 

“Don’t start a fight! We had to rebuild that side of the house five times because you two keep knocking it down!”

Lucy slowed down her pace as the volume of their argument increased but kept her eyes on the string that told her he was just ahead. 

Her eyes landed on a red-haired girl pointing a large sword at two boys who kneeled respectively in front of her, bowing their heads as she scolded them. 

Breaking through the line of trees, Lucy smoothed down her stray hairs and dusted off her dress, holding herself nervously as she continued forward.

Each step closer made her legs feel like jelly, flushed her cheeks, and made her heart beat a million times faster, her fingers twitching as she held her hands together. 

“U-Um...excuse me…?” Lucy’s voice was shaky as she approached the three, her eyes watery as she stared at the pink-haired boy who raised his head at the sound of her voice. The string fell into his lap; he was her soulmate.

The red-haired girl turned to face her first, eyes concerned as they fell on her disheveled appearance. “My goodness, are you okay? You’re not lost, are you?”

“N-No...I—“ 

"Oh, crap! It's you!" 

"Don't say that to a girl, idiot! You have no idea who that is!" The raven-haired boy threw a glare at the pink-haired one who quickly stood up.

“Mavis didn’t tell me when you’d get here, I would’ve come to pick you up if I knew you were...oh, hey, don’t cry, okay? Um, here,” He quickly took the end of his scarf to wipe her tears, feeling a knot in his throat as she gently fell against his chest. "It's gonna be okay."

"I just...I just can't believe…" She shook her head, not minding the stain she created on his shirt. "That you're real...that you were waiting for me."

"'Course I was! Having a new family member is always exciting, and my hearts been leapin' like crazy waitin' for you! You were stuck out there all alone and I couldn't come find you. I'm sorry it took so long." 

Erza forced herself and Gray to look away as the blonde hastily kissed their wild companion, his shock present in the stiffness of his back.

He was startled by the sudden action but felt himself melting into the touch, desperate as well to be close to his soulmate.

"I'm home," Lucy laughed with a bit of surprise, Natsu's eyes widening along with his grin. 

"Yeah! Welcome back!"

[wayward-dreamer]

Foundation Quaking - Part 6

Part 6: Garage

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Word count: 2,352

Summary: Y/N returns from a night out with friends, seeing Dean working on setting up the garage and fixing the car. Unable to keep their hands off each other, they cross another fantasy off the list.

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing, Smut: Dirty talk, Heavy foreplay, Unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it), sex on the hood of the Impala. More fluff.

A/N: I can’t believe this little mini-series has almost come to end, just two more parts after this! There’s so much more coming for these two though, and I can’t wait to share it with all you! Thanks for all your kind words and support. As always, happy reading and enjoy! :)

Series beta’d by my twin and forever cheerleader @downanddirtydean​. I love you! <3

Life’s Lessons Saga Masterlist

Dean lifted up the heavy box kept to one side of the garage, carrying it across the room and over to the workbench that he had set up. Opening it, he took out all the tools that didn’t fit in his toolbox, hanging them up on the hooks he placed on the wall or putting them in small plastic boxes as he sorted through them. It was a Friday night, and usually he would be out at the bar with Benny and Cas, or out with Y/N or spending time at home, but considering he hadn’t set up the garage yet, he wanted to get started. Y/N was out for a girls’ night with Charlie and Meg, so he was by himself at home, with not much to do other than fix things up in the garage.

He also wanted the time to do a check on Baby, making sure everything was working the way it was meant to, as she had been sounding a little worse for wear lately. After he had fixed up his work bench and put away everything properly, he got to work on fixing up his beloved Impala and get her back to sounding the way she should.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been in the garage, tuning Baby up with a socket wrench and Zeppelin lightly playing in the background, but he heard the sound of heels coming down the hallway outside the open door into the house. Lifting his head slightly, he saw Y/N appear at the threshold, dressed in sleek black flared pants that hugged her waist incredibly well, and a loose black strappy top. Her hair was open and wavy, looking as stunning as she always did. She looked him up and down, biting her lip as every time she found him working on the car, it always, always, awoke something deep inside her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, carefully moving his head from under the hood of the car. He closed it, leaning against it as he looked at her.

“It’s 1.30am, Dean,” she said, softly as she walked over to him, her black heels clicking against the concrete floor. “I didn’t think you’d be out here.”

He shrugged, turning the wrench in his hand. “Once I started with the garage, I didn’t stop and then went on to check on Baby, lost track of time.”

“Well, I hope you ate,” she sighed, moving into him and wrapping her arms around his neck. She was still slightly shorter than him even with her heels on. “I know how you get.”

“I started after eating, don’t you worry about me, gorgeous,” he told her, pecking her nose softly.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, his hands slowly sliding down to her ass over the pants that accentuated the feature. “Have fun with the girls?”

“Always,” she replied, smiling.

“And uh… how many guys did you have to turn away tonight?” he asked, smirking slightly. “Cause let me tell ya, this outfit… is making me very glad that I’m your one and only.”

“Well, none actually, now that I have this,” she said, smiling as she lifted her hand and showed him the ring he had given her.

His smirk widened, turning into a grin. “Good to know.”

Dean leaned in, kissing her passionately as he brought her body closer to his. A soft moan left her as the kiss deepened, her hands moving up into his hair, running through the short locks at the back of his head. She leaned into him, their lips locked in a heated exchange, both of them aware of where this embrace was heading. He turned them around, pressing Y/N against the Impala, lifting her legs to wrap around his waist.

“So beautiful,” he whispered against her lips, as his hands drifted up her legs to her waist.

He pulled at the fabric belt tied into a bow on her pants, hissing slightly as she moved forward, her covered mound against his crotch. She smiled mischievously, that one he never got tired of seeing, as she began to grind slowly against him.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers.

She moved against him, her hands moving down to his waist to pull him closer to her. She bit her lip, feeling him getting hard against her.

“God, you have no idea what you do to me,” he groaned, pulling her closer to his covered dick.

She hummed, biting her lip, cheekily. “I think I do.”

He reached between them, unzipping her pants, both of his hands slipping into the waistband and pulling them down. She lifted up slightly, letting him move them down her smooth legs. He smirked as he saw her black lace panties, moving in to grind against her again, the barrier between them thinner than before. His hands took the edge of her flowy top and pulled it up, her hands moving up to let him discard it to the floor beside her pants. He reached around and unclasped her black strapless bra, tossing it behind him. He leaned in, kissing down her neck, lightly nipping at her skin. He took her right nipple into his mouth, a moan leaving her lips as he circled the stiff nub with his tongue. He palmed her left breast, his fingers tweaking the nipple, as he continued to softly nip at the other.

“Dean, fuck, I-” she gasped, grabbing onto his broad, thick shoulders and pulling him closer.

He released the nipple from his mouth, his lips hovering over hers as he smirked. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Fuck me,” she bit out, her eyes shut tight. “Fuck me hard.”

“You’re forgetting to ask nice, gorgeous,” he said, his smirk as cocky as ever.

She groaned, frustratedly as she shook her head. “Please.”

“Say it properly, Y/N,” he ordered, his eyes darkened as he looked at her.

“Please, Dean, please fuck me,” she begged, as her eyes snapped open.

“Say it again,” he teased, his smirk unwavering. “I wanna hear how much you want it.”

“Fuck me hard, Dean, please. Please I need your cock,” she pleaded. “I need to feel you deep inside me, fucking me hard and fast, filling me up.”

He chuckled against her lips, his hand moving between her thighs to her covered sex, feeling how wet she was through the lace of her panties.

Dean reached down and unbuckled his belt, undoing his jeans and pushing them down along with boxers. He wrapped his hand around his hard cock, pumping it slowly as he saw her gaze down. Her hand reached forward to touch him, but he moved it away with his, holding her as he laid her back against the hood of the Impala, a small gasp leaving her as her back hit the cold surface. He bit his lip, seeing her spread out on his car was a fantasy he had had for a while and now it was coming true.

He moved his hand down between her legs, hooking a finger into her panties and pulling them down, straightening her legs up to take them off and toss them aside. He smoothed his hands over her legs, placing her calves on his shoulders, her heels still on her feet. She truly was a sight in that moment, and he was quick to remember once again how fucking lucky he was. Taking hold of his cock, he slapped the tip against her heat, a small gasp leaving her as he did. He slid his shaft through her folds, her arousal wetting him. He moved to her entrance, pushing in slowly, a groan falling from his lips as he felt how tight she was in this position. He slid out slightly before moving back in, bottoming out completely inside her. She moaned as he moved his hips, setting a moderate pace as he thrusted in and out of her.

“Fuck, so tight, baby,” he groaned, his hands holding onto her hips, tightly as he pulled her forward against his.

“Dean,” she whimpered, her hands moving up to her breasts, her fingers pinching and tweaking her nipples. “Fuck me harder, Dean… please.”

He smirked, his thumbs softly running over her hip bones. “That’s what I like to hear.”

His hips slammed forward, a loud moan leaving her as he set a harder rhythm, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her with precision, as her walls clenched around him. His hips slapped against her thighs, as his balls pressed against the curve of her ass, the smacking of skin as loud as their voices.

“Fuck, you feel so good around my cock, sweetheart,” he growled, his hands gripping her hips tight as he continued to pull her against him. “So wet, tight… like you were made to take me.”

“Yes, oh fuck,” she gasped, lifting her head and gazing down the length of her body. She saw his cock slide in and out of her, the speed of his thrusts driving her wild. “Fuck, Dean… love your cock inside me, fucking me hard.”

She continued to tweak her left nipple, her right hand drifting down to move between her legs. Her walls clenched around his cock, knowing she was close with how fast he was moving within her. Suddenly, a hand came off her hips and grasped hers tight, flicking it away.

“You don’t get to cum yet, sweetheart,” he warned, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looked down at her. “Only I tell you when you can.”

“Dean, please,” she begged, looking up at him. “Please I wanna cum.”

“Uh uh,” he shook his head, a playful glare on his face as he looked at her. “Or I stop right now.”

“No, please,” she whined, shaking her head.

“Be good and you’ll get what you want, Y/N,” he stated, turning his head and planting a kiss on her left calf.

He drove deeper into her, his eyes raking over her body and admiring the light sheen of sweat from their activities. He smirked as their eyes met, a groan leaving his lips as a moan left hers at the feel of her clenching around him.

“You’re so close, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” he asked, a teasing smile on his face.

She whimpered, her back arching off the car. “Yes.”

“Bet you’re wishing you could touch yourself right about now, huh?” He looked at her as his hand moved between their bodies, hovering over the bundle of nerves. “You want me to touch you, baby?”

“Yes, touch me,” she gasped, pushing herself up on her elbows to between their joined bodies.

“Y/N,” he warned, looking down at her as he continued to thrust into her, his movement frenzied.

“Please, touch me, Dean,” she said, looking into his eyes.

He obliged her by pressing his fingers to her clit, circling them over the nub as their hips continued to meet. She moaned loudly, her chest heaving with frantic breaths as she got closer to her release.

“Dean, I-I’m close,” she moaned, her eyes flicking between watching his hand and looking at him.

“You’re gonna cum with me, sweetheart,” he grunted. His eyes shut briefly as he felt his cock throbbing inside of her, before he looked at her again. “Not before then.”

“Fuck,” she cried, desperate to let go. “Please, please tell me you’re close.”

His fingers moved faster over her clit, a string of short gasps leaving her as she felt the coil tightening in her core. His hard cock continued to pound into her, his other hand tight against her hip, no doubt bruising her flesh.

“Fuck, cum with me, Y/N,” he growled, his jaw clenching from the pressure building within him. “Cum with me, sweetheart.”

“Oh god, Dean! Yes! Fuck!” she yelled, as the coil snapped. Her wetness covered his cock, as he sped up slightly, a loud grunt leaving him as his cock pulsed, spurts of his cum bathing her walls.

“Fuck,” he groaned, as he breathed heavily, a content smirk on his face.

Y/N slipped back down, lying flat against the hood once more. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, a hand over her eyes as she came down. Dean looked at her, turning his head and kissing her calf again, his gaze on her as he breathed deeply. She lifted her hand off her eyes, slowly sitting up and cupping his face in her hands. She kissed him hard, their lips feverishly moving against each other’s.

“You’re incredible,” she told him between kisses.

“I think that’s you, sweetheart,” he countered, pecking her lips.

“I can’t believe we had sex on Baby,” she said, a giggle bubbling up in her chest. She shook her head, pressing it to his shoulder as she laughed.

He joined in, his hand brushing away her hair from her shoulder, as he placed a soft kiss to it. “Kinda been dreaming about it.”

“Did we just cross off another fantasy of yours?” she asked, lifting her head and looking at him with a knowing smile.

“Definitely,” he replied, smirking as he leaned in, kissing her. He pulled away briefly, pulling up his boxers and jeans, securing them over his hips.

She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him again. “I guess it’s my turn next.”

He wagged his eyebrows, a grin on his face as he pulled her close. “Can’t wait.”

Dean helped Y/N off the car, her legs shaking slightly as she tried to stand. She took off her heels and picked up her clothes, carrying them with her as they made their way back into the house. After a quick shower together, they got ready for bed, Dean stripped down to his boxers as she slipped on a black tank top and cotton shorts in red and black plaid. He couldn’t understand how she managed to make something so simple look sexy, but she did.

Wrapped in each other’s embrace, they kissed goodnight, slipping into a peaceful slumber with pleasant dreams of each other.

-x-

Tags: @deanwanddamons // @winchest09 // @downanddirtydean // @jensengirl83 // @wonder-cole // @that-one-gay-girl // @whatareyousearchingfordean // @flamencodiva // @danneelsmain // @ellewritesfix05 // @roonyxx // @akshi8278 //@hobby27 // @michellethetvaddict // @spngirl05 // @kyjey // @440mxs-wife // @stoneyggirl // @stoneyggirl2 // @deanswaywardgirl // @redbarn1995 // @marianita195 // @babypink224221 // @deans-baby-momma // @parinarain // @thoughts-and-funnies // @mandalou29 // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @supernatural-love14 // @vicmc624 // @prettyboyswow // @lunarmoon8​ // @irmcpar​ // @compresshischest09​ // @weepingwillowphoenix​ // @xlynnbbyx​ // @whiskey-infused-dreams​ // @perpetualabsurdity​ // @verytoadpapersoul​ // @pink-sparkly-witch​ //

[snidgetwidgeon]

Son of Hylia, Daughter of Farore

A roleswap Zelink AU

Art by @anxioussailorsoldier and used here with permission

This story is a one-shot inspired by the prompts from @drsteggy and was gifted to her in a fic exchange.

~~~

Link awoke suddenly, desperately trying to cling to the vision of a woman surrounded by bright light as it diminished from his foggy mind. Try as he might to enter back into the haze of his mysterious dream, sounds came louder and clearer to his ears, and he registered the rustle of the sheets sliding against his feet as he stretched, his senses slowly returning. Today would be a trying affair. He always remained fatigued after she appeared to him, ever speaking yet rendered frustratingly silent.

Perhaps he could try to lay low, hide in the library, and search yet again on the shelves he’d already scoured for something he may have missed; something to prove it was possible that he was having the visions vessels were known to have had. He just couldn’t interpret them. He spared a bittersweet thought for his late mother. She would have known, would have shown him. Or perhaps she would have bore a daughter, and there would be no question; and he could have supported his sister when they found out the Calamity was foretold to return.

But the Kingdom of Hyrule was left with a Prince at the precipice of doom. He’d never felt more useless, or more determined to do something about it. He would find a way. He would protect everyone.

Zelda shifted her feet, practicing her forms to warm up before training. She missed her scimitar. This new blade felt so different and she had to relearn how to make it an extension of herself. It was humbling when sparring partners she had previously bested came out on top. It just proved she still had much to learn and needed to become proficient with many weapon types if she wanted to be the greatest.

She recalled being a bit intimidated as her group of friends grew over the years. Where they used to be physical equals, they now towered above her; but she supposed she could be thankful for the challenge because it caused her to become an incredibly scrappy fighter, always looking for openings she could wheedle into.

This time she wheedled too far and forgot to watch her flank while in pursuit of one of her opponents. Another warrior swept in and bashed her ribs as she was on an upswing and it sent her flying. As she was pulled up, she couldn’t help but think spitefully that the same would not have happened if she were allowed her weapon of choice. She could have recovered with her scimitar but the swing on the Master Sword was different.

“Nice air you caught there,” her sparring partner teased in Gerudo. “Again?”

Zelda recovered her blade from a few paces away and declined, “I think I’ll just nurse my wounds and ego for awhile, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. I recommend you do solitary for a few days with your new acquaintance,” she pointed her chin towards the Master Sword in Zelda’s grip. “See if you two can make friends,” she winked and ran back to join the fray.

Zelda stared down at the sword with slight contempt. Urbosa had told her of the legends she’d learned from the late Queen of Hyrule, and her son, Prince Link- that the sword was wielded to protect Hylia, and how the blade itself chose its master and would even communicate. Someone being chosen meant that a shit storm was likely brewing.

Urbosa also mentioned that preparations were being made against some sort of Calamity. The word made Zelda’s blood run cold and she knew it was something to be feared. If the sword was not speaking to her, perhaps it chose wrong and she was not suited to the challenge. She had tried everything she could think of, even hours of meditation, which she hated because she didn’t like sitting still for long.

But it was all for naught.

She wove her way through the stalls and bustle of the marketplace, sword heavy on her back, and day after day it had only served to weigh her down even more. She could no longer stand it. She exited the north-western gates and ran along the outer wall. Heart pounding and sweating all over, she dug a rather shallow and pathetic hole, chucked the sword in and kicked sand over it before walking away in a huff, muttering, “Curse the day I found your infuriating silence!”

She’d been training in the desert when she discovered it, exploring further than she ever had over the dunes. Following the statues with their guiding swords, she finally came upon the last one and sheltered under her cloak at its base as a sandstorm passed. Thankfully, it was short and as she stood to shake as much sand as she could off her person, she noticed something strange in the distance. She could have sworn she’d reached the last statue of the warriors. Perhaps she’d miscounted as there stood another on the horizon, the reflection of its sword glinting brightly in its grasp.

Zelda took a drink from her ration, taking note of how much was left before deciding she could manage one more. If anything, it would improve her survival skills.

As she neared the solid figure rising out of the sands she noticed that the sword it held was elaborate. Oddly enough, a scabbard for it was slung over the shoulder which made it appear that someone had just left it there. She looked around but only saw a few cacti bearing voltfruits, perfect for carrying around extra moisture for the return trip. Some movement caught her eye behind a cactus and she ran over, pulling her scimitar, in case there was meat to be had, but she was met with a poof of sparkling petals and could have sworn she heard a childish giggle.

After investigating thoroughly, she cut the fruits and placed them into her bag before returning to the statue. It would be a shame to leave such a fine piece of work out in the middle of nowhere. She climbed the figure and slipped the scabbard off the shoulder, letting it fall to the sand before holding the neck and planting her feet against the torso so she could reach the hilt with her free hand. It did not budge. Hiking herself up, she wrapped her legs around the neck so she could use both hands to pull on the wings above the hilt.

She was straining when she heard the laugh again, accompanied by a rattle, and in her distraction, the blade suddenly came loose and they both tumbled into the sand.

She’d thought nothing of it until returning to Gerudo Town.

During a routine visit to the throne room, Chief Urbosa had nearly sent away visiting dignitaries when she spied the sword on Zelda’s back. After the meeting, Urbosa called her into her private quarters, which was very unusual. Perhaps she was to be given a special assignment.

“Where did you find that sword?” Urbosa asked with intense interest and a hint of concern.

Zelda stood at attention and replied concisely, “In the desert, Chief.”

“Zelda, have you any idea what you’ve found?”

Zelda began to doubt her decision to play finders keepers. Maybe it was a ceremonial sword or relic that should have stayed where it was. Though she had been raised with the Gerudo, she certainly did not purport to know all of their culture and was horrified by the idea that she’d deeply offended them.

~~~

Urbosa removed her bracelets and hair ornaments, letting the thick, red locks fall down her back. Making sure her tea would be in reach, she snuggled into her bed and opened a letter from her favorite Hylian. She always saved his letters for the end of the day when her attention could be undivided and she could imagine actually having a conversation with him. He was so bright and inquisitive, and optimistic- as his letter revealed. Just like her love.

~I have not given up my search. I keep thinking that surely, there is a pocket in the library I have not scoured. But then another duty and another day takes me away from it. I see her, Urbosa. It has to mean something. If only I could find evidence that there has been a son of Hylia. Why else would I be given visions? If only I could interpret them...

Do you know how mother did it? Did she ever say anything?~

He then went on to describe his involvement with the funding of the research at the Royal Ancient Lab as well as other gossip that he and Urbosa kept up on, including their inside jokes about stuffy nobles. He also wanted to hear more about the warrior who had pulled the Master Sword.

~Does the bearer of the Blade that Seals the Darkness fare well? The moment I learned of her, I hoped that it was a sliver of evidence to prove my case. If there is a woman as Farore’s chosen, then perhaps it lends weight to the fact that a man could be Nayru’s chosen. But I’m harping. Perhaps I will be able to meet her soon, though father keeps me tied up in social engagements. He has taken to parading me at events where there are ample amounts of young debutantes to vie for my attention. I’d much rather be studying.~

Urbosa wrote back early the next morning after skimming the letter again.

~It seems our chosen Hero is having trouble awakening the power within the blade. When you sent word of legends that say the sword speaks to a worthy master, she immediately felt inadequate. Zelda excels at any challenge and eventually overcomes all obstacles, so when she continually failed to connect with the sword’s spirit, she took out her frustrations in a childish manner. The other day she was witnessed burying it in the sand outside the town walls. She must have blown off all her steam because she did retrieve it later that night.

I think that learning her fate has been weighing on her. She puts on a stoic face but I can see she has reservations. Perhaps if you two came together, something will give?~

After reading Urbosa’s reply, Link laid the parchment back down on his desk and pondered her proposition. He had been wanting to expand his search outside the castle for sometime and though he enjoyed visiting the Royal Lab, it did not hold any answers for what he sought; they were just a bunch of rowdy mechanics who were a lot of fun to hang around with. But to understand his history and role, he wanted to go on a pilgrimage to the known spiritual sites of Hyrule, and perhaps discover unknown ones as well so he could be better informed on how to defeat the Calamity, and possibly awaken the power of Hylia along the way.

He would start making arrangements right away.

~~~

King Rhoam rapped his knuckles on the door of his son’s study. When Link answered with a curt nod and a polite greeting, he entered, leaving his guard detail outside. He thought it prudent to retain at least some privacy for this matter, considering the gossip it could generate.

“I hear you’re planning some sort of trip,” it came out as a statement more than a question.

“A pilgrimage. To try and find any proof of my suspicions-”

He was interrupted by his father’s large, dissatisfied sigh. “Link, you really must stop harping on about that nonsense. Hylia has only ever been reincarnated into the mortal body of a female, that’s just the way it is. A tradition that extends even far beyond what we have in written history.”

“Exactly. We don’t know everything. How do you explain my visions? Mother had them. She knew how to interpret them.”

“Perhaps they’re just dreams,” Rhoam offered again in a misguided attempt to engage.

Link smacked the book he was about to pack on the table in frustration. “I can’t believe you keep saying that, you just don’t understand.”

“What I understand is that you continue to foolishly insist on chasing dreams and fantasies rather than doing something tangible for your people. You’re wasting time, Link. You should be courting and choosing a wife so that you can pass on the bloodline to a potential Princess who will-” Rhoam saw the shock in his boy’s face and tried to change track, “We have no idea when the Calamity will strike, we should be doing everything we can to prevent disaster.”

Link clenched his jaw as a deep anger and loathing swelled in his breast. Voice trembling in rage, he rebutted, “I am not going to produce an heir just to send her to the slaughter. I will fight my own battles. This Calamity is coming down on us! I just need to figure out how to awaken Hylia’s power.” He grabbed his bag and stormed out before Rhoam could push his agenda further.

~~~

The next letter Urbosa received from Link outlined his travels. She grinned as she read through them, glad that he’d managed to get away.

~The Forgotten Temple was very difficult to access, and though it did not produce any results, it was a breath taking trip. It has the largest Goddess Statue I have ever seen and I felt a peculiar familiarity while standing under her benevolent smile. I think this is promising.

We’re now at the ruins of the Temple of Time on the Great Plateau. I’m no stranger to the place of course, but the Priestess has been most helpful in providing old texts to study that were not available at the Castle. She’s even offered to assign a scribe to make copies for me.

I hope to be underway again soon and I would like to visit the Seven Heroines. I want to leave no stone unturned. I shall send a dispatch for when we expect to be arriving in the desert.~

When the time came, Urbosa bid Zelda to be an escort for the Prince across the sands to Gerudo Town. “Listen carefully, Zelda. Being the Prince is more than reason enough to keep him safe, but there may be a chance that he is so much more. The fact that you wield that sword lends weight to his theory that he may be Hylia reborn.”

Zelda’s eyes widened but she remained silent, nodding dutifully.

“I’ll need you to deliver some supplies to him so that he may enter unmolested upon arrival.”

“Chief?” Zelda asked, uncertain about the order. Hylia possibly being in a boy she could handle, but in all her time there, she’d never heard of a voe entering Gerudo Town. For Urbosa to speak of it almost as if it were done every other day was- confusing, to say the least.

Urbosa raised her brow at the question. “He is my Oten’vehvi and knows how to behave within these walls. You need not concern yourself with the politics, just act as his personal guard.”

“Yes, Chief.”

She made her preparations and checked that all was secure with the ‘contraband.’ The idea of meeting the Prince was troubling to say the least. She felt completely inadequate, bearing a sword that considered her unworthy. Perhaps she could pass it onto him and he could find the most courageous person in Hyrule. With his resources she was sure it wouldn’t be that hard. Then again, legendary swords weren’t known for choosing incorrect Heroes, so what was wrong with her?

They would just have to work together somehow.

She rode most of the way at a leisurely pace behind her sand seal until she noticed a scuffle as she neared Kara Kara. “HUP!” she directed her seal to go a bit faster to investigate.

A couple of Hylian vai shrieked when they saw her. “The Prince! Please save our Prince!” they cried as they pointed west.

There were two Yiga chasing after a nimble blond clad in light blue. She sprung after them, tongue rolling in a call to let her mount know they needed to go as fast as if they were fleeing a molduga.

The Prince was doing well for himself until he fell, a prey disposition coming over him. He scooted back but could only stare at the assassins, frozen in fear.

Zelda used her inertia to whip across the sand and jumped to land between the Prince and his attackers. She drew her sword, imbued with courage and confident that she could easily protect the boy against the likes of this desert rabble. She almost become distracted by the sword’s sudden glow before exchanging blows with the masked Yiga. They soon realized they were no match for her and dispersed in pops of red and orange light, laughter echoing in their place.

Breathing heavily, she turned back to face the Prince who was still flat on his bum. They both ogled the glowing sword.

An ethereal, disembodied voice broke the silence, “Master, it is good to see you again.”

Their eyes snapped to each other and searched for understanding. There was an immediate and unmistakable bond between them. They’d both heard it.

“I see...” Zelda began. She glared down at the Master Sword, fist clenching the handle and shaking with anger. “So you only deign to speak when your charge is present?” Her voice rose, “I wasn’t good enough for you?! You picky piece of shit!” she yelled as she hurled the sword into the dunes.

Link gaped in disbelief that his protector was so uncouth when something profound occurred to him. He fell back into the sand laughing, a massive wave of relief washing over him.

She looked at him curiously. “What? What is it?”

His laughter died down and he gazed into the sky, moisture glistening in the corner of his eye. “She’s with me.”

Zelda’s eyebrows knitted in confusion, unaware of the turmoil he had experienced regarding his identity.

Link stood and brushed himself off then held out his hand in greeting. “You must be Zelda. Bearer of the Blade that seals the Darkness.”

She accepted his shake and added spitefully, “More like the blade that won’t open its trap unless its mommy is around.”

“You know, I find it very intriguing, my mother’s name was also Zelda.”

“Yes, my mother was a big fan. It’s kind of flattering, she was a great lady. But people always joke that I’m the lost, secret princess and other nonsense.” She started to move away but he touched her arm and she paused.

“Thank you- for saving my life; but also for revealing the truth. Now that I know she’s here,” he touched his heart, “I will find her.”

Zelda eyed him like a strange bug, still unsure as to what he was on about. She patted his shoulder as she walked over to retrieve her weapon, “Good luck with that.”

~~~

A few nights later, Link and Urbosa took a stroll just outside of town to enjoy each other’s company, catching up on their daily lives. The stars twinkled brightly and the moon shone pale on the dunes, a steady breeze drifting the sands away to the dark horizon. He’d just intimated what his father would have him do to stay the coming Calamity.

She touched his shoulder in support, “And what did you say?”

“That this was our battle. And I would absolutely not have a child just to-” he sighed deeply. “I mean, I know the legends. There will always be a vessel of Hylia and her chosen Hero, but to be so deliberate and unfeeling about it, I just...”

“It’s alright. Your father has always been rather blunt, and practical to a fault. For what it’s worth, I believe in you. The visions you describe sound very similar to what your mother shared with me.”

He looked up to her with a smile, “It’s worth a lot, you’re my Oten’baba; your opinion matters to me more than anyone else.”

They continued on for a short time in companionable silence when Urbosa stopped and lifted her head to the night, listening and placing a hand on her scimitar.

“What is it?” Link asked, only noticing after he’d taken a few steps ahead.

A raucous laughter cut across the desert and as quick as Urbosa had been to draw her blade and prepare a snap of deadly electricity over her foes, two of them grabbed the Prince and held their sickles to his neck causing her to stay her hand.

“What a lovely package we have here tonight. Not only can we bag the boy, we can finally rid ourselves of the thorn in our side, Gerudo Tempest!” a Yiga foot soldier, hidden amongst the rest, spat the last two words out in disgust.

They attacked and dozens fell upon the Chief, running head on and popping up behind. A dance of blades began and Link struggled to free himself. Urbosa tried to lead her foes away but Link’s captors followed, dragging his feet through the sand.

“You’ll not be using your lightning with the precious Prince so close, will you?” gloated the same antagonizing voice.

Link cried out in terror when he saw a Yiga succeed in cutting her arm. She seethed and decked them right across the jaw. When they fell she jumped onto their back and launched herself in the air so she could shoot off a bolt.

“Oh, no! Is the Tempest in distress?” the voice goaded, and the masks cackled.

Link couldn’t tell where the mocking was coming from, they were everywhere and nowhere at once. There were too many. Urbosa was becoming overwhelmed and aid may not arrive in time- a gash landed on her leg- he was going to lose her. The laughing was getting louder, the air becoming so thick with magic that it tasted like chalk on his tongue- a slice was delivered up her back and she cried out. He squeezed his eyes shut and thought of his mother. What would she do? There hadn’t been anything he could do for her then, but he was here now for his living mother.

Link’s eyes shot open just in time to see Urbosa drowning under the onslaught and his insides fell into oblivion. They were replaced by a warmth that spread through his body and beyond. He jerked his head in confusion as those that held him fell away. He was free. Sparks akin to those he felt when he fell asleep on his hand in the library spread through his fingers and he launched himself into the foray. He clawed through Yiga soldiers to get to her and did not see how each one he yanked was thrown back with a force of golden energy.

“Urbosa! URBOSA!?” They hit the ground.

The desert was lit with a false sunrise as Link crushed Urbosa in a desperate embrace. The light washed over her, healing her wounds as it cascaded around them in a dome, their enemies lying motionless on the outside.

After a few stunned moments, they opened their eyes and picked each other up. Urbosa held his face in her hands and wiped his tears. “Just look at you,” she said, smiling proudly.

“I- I couldn’t. I was,” he stumbled over his words as more tears fell, “I was going to lose you. I couldn’t lose you too,” he cried into her chest and she held him close.

~~~

Link was a natural at seal surfing. That’s what Zelda thought before she realized that he must have actually visited Gerudo Town previously and she just didn’t know it. They had left at sunrise and arrived to their destination mid morning. After taking a much needed rest, re-hydrating and snacking, Link took a leisurely walk around the place to get his bearings while Zelda tended to the sand seals. She joined him after they were settled for a long siesta and the two of them began their research of the Seven Heroines in interest.

There were orbs scattered about the place. Very large, Link noticed. He pushed one with his foot. And heavy. The sand seals might have to work after all. He tasked Zelda with collecting any she could find and in the meantime he studied the statues, picking up rather quickly that some had prominent corresponding symbols to the orbs on various parts of their bodies. Some he couldn’t make out as they were too high so there would be some educated guesses by process of elimination.

Zelda couldn’t help being drawn into his enthusiasm, the way he took notes- the face he made when he took those notes; it was all very quaint, and a bit impressive. Having spent most of her time advancing physically, she appreciated the mental gymnastics they were doing. Where most might sit back defeated, Link pushed through with a calm determination. They tried dropping the orbs in the pedestals in numerous combinations, each with a sound theory behind them. How was Link to know that if shrines had been activated, he would have succeeded in getting a result on the first try? A fact that they both wouldn’t learn for another 103-odd years.

After the sun set, Link scrawled until the dimming light rendered the page unreadable. Zelda had already set about making camp. They could head back to town in the morning, both were knackered. Even with the help of the seals, they’d heaved plenty of orbs around for hours. Eventually he plopped down on the rug with her and heaved a big sigh.

“Wow, you been working all day or something?” she asked in jest as she turned the vegetables in the fire.

“Yeah, something like that. It’s been a long while since I’ve been out in the field.”

She regarded him thoughtfully. “What’s it like up at the castle?”

“Stuffy.”

She chuckled and didn’t press but it wouldn’t be fair to leave it at that. For all its faults, it deserved more. “I loved exploring the halls as a boy. I’m fairly certain I found long lost passages even the castle historian didn’t know about. My favorite places are the Library and the Observatory. “

“Sounds about right,” Zelda smirked.

“Ha ha. But really, the Library has books as far as you can see, you’d never finish them in one lifetime. And my mother used to take me to the Observatory. I still go there to feel close to her.”

They sat in silence for a moment when Zelda touched his forearm. “I’m sorry you lost her.”

Link nodded in thanks and Zelda started to collect the hearty truffles from the coals. “I lost my father,” she began, and Link was a bit surprised she was sharing.

“He was a knight. We didn’t have any other family close by and mom didn’t fancy moving to Tabantha Village. She hates the cold,” Zelda added as she passed Link a stick laden with dinner.

“Thanks. So she just came to the desert instead?” Link asked before blowing generously and taking a bite.

“She had a close friend here who is practically my auntie. I think she was hoping we could just get away and start fresh from everything we knew before. But then I had to take after dad. Took her a while and a lot of arguments to come to terms with the fact that I was also a warrior.” She shook her head. “I feel bad. I’ve put her in a constant fear of losing me too but... you have to do what your soul tells you, right?”

Link closed his eyes and thought of Hylia, feeling a vibration in his core. “Right.” He agreed thoughtfully.

“Anyway, then this happened,” she said, unsheathing the sword on her back a few inches and letting fall back in with a shinck. “That was not a fun conversation.”

“I can imagine,” Link commiserated as he thought of his own recent rows with his father.

Zelda took a bite of her own truffle and regarded him up and down. With no tact for manners, she said with a full mouth, “You’re alrigh’ fo’ a Pince.”

Link laughed and his genuine mirth spread warmth through Zelda’s chest. “And you’re alright for a Hero.”

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Dear you know what comes next.

"Go to a weddung with Ori."

Have fun with this 😏

Hallo, mein Schatz @shrimpsthings. Hier ist also deine Geschichte. 🙈

Disclaimer: shrimpsthings is my friend. We know each other and they know that this is meant in good fun. It's purely DIRT, it's smut, it's unapologetic, it's in bad taste (probably)..Please don't read it if you're easily triggered...

Thank you. I do not want to offend anyone. Really.

Taglist for my shameful brainfart: @lathalea @legolasbadass @linasofia @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @middleearthpixie @bitter-sweet-farmgirl

Thanks @linasofia for encouraging me and for cleaning our cell :D

Warning: Explicit SMUT with very nice character

The banners blew softly in the wind, and I pressed my forehead to the cold rock – overwhelmed with gratitude – upon seeing the guests arrive. Had this ever happened before?

Had Thranduil Oropherion ever attended a dwarrow wedding? The official part was over and King Thorin (but mostly his queen, a most wise and handsome dam) had decided that his old friend Balin deserved a proper party to which the two other regents were invited. It would be glorious, I was sure, and…I was late already.

Hastening my steps to our chambers, I found my husband just getting out of the bathtub, dripping wet and steaming in the cool air surrounding him. “Where have you been, love of loves?” He smiled at me, grasping a towel I whisked away immediately.

“I’ll get you all wet.” He laughed when I slid into his arms and nuzzled my face into his shoulder.

“I was up on the ramparts, Thranduil has arrived and so has Bard.” I mumbled against his fragrant skin. “Hmmm, that is good. I’m glad Thorin invited them, we all can do with some cheer.” He replied, resting his cheek against the crown of my head tenderly. Even though dripping wet, he closed his arms tenderly around me and held me there as if time was of no matter; Ori rarely let his sense of duty be overridden by something else, and it filled me with pride and joy to be the thing that made him forget about his responsibilities easily enough.

“I am so thankful Mahal has spared all of you.” I whimpered, the emotion threatening to drown me. “Hush, darling one, whatever is the matter? Everything is wonderful, don’t worry.” He tried to assuage me, but I could hear the steely ring that had crept into his voice alongside the ghosts of memories he did but seldom share with me.

“I just cannot imagine a life where…” I sighed. A world in which Balin was no more, in which Thorin was not king, in which Ori was not my husband; in short, a desolate existence devoid of that light that turned the darkest night into gold.

“I cannot believe that the old man actually tied the knot.” Ori chuckled against my hair. “Which one? You? Balin? King Thorin?” I mocked gently.

“All of the above, I guess.” He laughed, trying to pry himself loose from me, but I wouldn’t let him.

“Ah, you’re right, life is good. Look at me having a beautiful wife clinging to my naked body.” He grinned, shuffling sideways towards the door leading to our bedchamber, but when I did not release my grip on him, he let himself fall backwards as soon as we reached the bed and pulled me into his arms, encircling me with his legs so I lay snuggled up against him. He’d always know when the darkness within me threatened to snuff out the candles his love lit in my heart, and he’d be diligent in running around in the inky black nothingness to coax them into burning bright once again.

“It’s okay, love, really. It’s been a long time ago.” He spoke softly, his lips caressing my sweat-beaded brow tenderly.

The warmth of his body and of his voice slowly made me relax, the waves of blind panic subsiding gradually.

“It’s just…when those things happen, I always have to think of the alternative.” I confessed, clawing at his shoulders to pull him ever closer, to wrap him around me like a shield or a blanket.

“I know, so do I. For me, it was meeting you. How easily I might have perished and how I would have regretted never getting the chance to do this.” He murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of my face, and lowering his lips tenderly onto mine. He was a calm man, I knew, but I was driven by despair and the lingering shadow of death still nipping at their heels. Did the queen feel like that every time she looked at the king? Afraid that something or someone would part them?

Did others feel the shadow of death grasping for what they held most dear, and did they tremble in their impuissance?

My fingers dove into his hair and pulled him closer while I twisted around to get into a position that allowed me to exert more pressure. “Amrâlimê.” He sighed as I scrambled up, pushing his head back against the solid wooden headboard and biting down on his lower lip the way I had seen him – himself – do a thousand and one times.

Still, his hands were gentle as he undid the laces of my day dress, pulling the fabric apart to pepper tender kisses upon my sun-kissed skin. Already, I could feel his naked body react to my tempestuous ardour and my fingers trailed down his chest – lingering ever so shortly on the freckles surrounding his nipples like a halo of gold – to tease the embers of his desire into a roaring fire.

A quiet moan escaped him as his lips closed around my own nipple, sucking it carefully like he’d wet the nib of his quill early in the morning, without stopping his endeavours to free me of the dress that had grown too tight to contain my heaving, writhing body now.

“We will be late.” Ori panted, sliding into a lying position under me while I was still folded up like a sheet of parchment on top of him. “Do you mind, Ori the rightful?” I teased, wriggling out of the dress, and pressing my own heat against his naked thigh. “Not in the least. Balin shall soon know the devious ways of insatiable wives.” He smirked.

“Insatiable, am I?” I exclaimed, pretending to be shocked by his words. “Hmmmm, I wondered where you had gone. I’ve missed you.” He smiled up at me, his hair spreading out like a rust-coloured gloriole on the white pillow.

“Did you now?” I laughed, tightening my grip on his cock despite keeping my wrist supple. “Yes…I am but half a man when you’re gone, you know?” He smiled tenderly, his voice betraying the depth of his – in my opinion, undeserved – devotion to a head-strong wife who talked too much by far.

“You are a full man whether I am there or not, my love, but I am glad that I might be the only one who knows.” I crooned, diving down to nip at the sensitive skin of his neck. “You might be the only one to think so.” He replied softly.

“I don’t care. Ori…what?” I interrupted myself as my husband seemed to melt underneath me, flowing away like water, until I was staring at an empty pillow. A second later, I felt his mouth, those lips that had read poetry to me and kissed my brow more times than I could count, pressing – featherlight – against my inner thighs.

He had nimble fingers, I knew, but it never ceased to amaze me how dexterous he really was. A grievous undervaluation on my behalf, as I had to recognise once again when that usually so polite and reticent tongue slid between the pages of my most secret tome, so to say. “Did you miss me then, wife of mine, heart of mine, life of mine?” He murmured into a cavern where no echo was to be heard.

“I miss you all the time, husband of mine.” I moaned as his slow, deliberate strokes conjured up waves of blinding light and sizzling heat within my mind and body. “Tell me about it!” He demanded, trailing his ink-stained fingers languidly up and down within me, coaxing me without giving any indication of haste.

Ours was a relationship of words – written and spoken – our wedding vows etched upon our skins and our collective works written in heart blood as much as ink. And yet, sometimes, it was so hard to find the right ones when he touched me like that and my mind went blank with blind, senseless desire.

“I yearn for the way you kiss me and the way you hold me close.” I said, my words hacked to pieces by the ragged breaths tearing themselves from my constricted chest.

He hummed against me, within me, and that was almost enough to push me over the edge.

“Then yearn for me some more.” He grinned, slid out from under me and stood to get dressed.

“ORI???” I was aghast and so close to my release that I was sincerely tempted to finish this myself, but his gaze kept me pinned to the mattress, squirming, desperate, as much as his tender hands would have.

“Not in a playful mood, my love?” He grinned that wicked grin that he shared with his brothers and that was another way to drive me into a frenzy – which he well knew after years of wedlock.

The wool was replaced by sober linen and silks today and he looked to die for as he stuffed the treacherous testament to my own effect on him carelessly into his breeches without breaking eye-contact.

“I will make you beg!” I hissed, stepping up to him under the pretence of righting his collar, only to trace the curve of his neck with my tongue before biting down tenderly on the lobe of his ear. “Beg, do you hear me, scribe? Oh, your quill will be leaking ink all night long.”

“Bring it on, wife.” He groaned, slipping his own hand between my legs, and giving me a gentle, teasing squeeze.

“Ah, Ori!” The king came towards us and clapped his heavy hand onto my husband’s shoulder affectionately.

“My king.” He grinned back and bowed ever so slightly. “I see you and your beautiful wife have another gift for Balin? He will be so happy; he loves you like a father.” The king went on and motioned us towards the old dwarrow, sitting – surrounded by gifts and offerings – rather like a king himself in the middle of the room.

“Master Balin.” I curtsied and giggled when he caught my hand and pulled me close. “How are you, my sweet lass?” He asked, winking, “How is Ori doing as a husband?”

“I am quite nervous, at my age, entering wedlock…but after decades of…friendship, she has asked, and I have agreed.” Balin shrugged. “Remains to be seen what all the fuss is about.” He laughed again.

“Oh, having a wife is…wonderful.” Ori said calmly, standing close behind me as if to hear Balin’s words better; nobody could see his hand sliding down my rear side to give me another affectionate pat that almost made me squirm with yearning. That single, elegant digit drawing a line of fire across the most intimate parts of me…it was almost more than I could take. “You’re mine.” He whispered into my hair as he moved toward Balin and I shivered violently.

“Is it? Oh, I guess it will be nice to have someone to read to in bed.” Balin smiled in quiet beatitude, and I couldn’t bring myself to disillusion him about the things that might potentially happen in bed other than reading…the things I was yearning for so desperately, it made me feel quite embarrassed about my own weakness.

“Oh yes, I quite like to read to my wife in bed. She’s an attentive listener.” Ori stepped closer still, his hand slipping ever further down and by now, I was worried that the fabric he pressed against me would be stained treacherously.

Oh, I listened to him alright, trying to make his voice quaver by teasing him with my mouth until he threw the book across the room and pounced at my exposed, alluring body like a starving beast upon prey.

“Are you not, love of mine?” His face was so close to mine that I might have counted the freckles on his nose. I wanted to bite him, literally, ferociously, sink my teeth into his nose and drag him back to our chambers by the braids.

“I certainly am.” I smiled as sweetly as I could, pressing back against his hand and into his groin, and when I took our gift from my husband’s hands, I made sure to bend down at just the right angle to grind my ass into all the right spots.

The strangled cough coming from my dearest one was music to my ears.

One would have to crawl under my skirts to really get any proof of my advanced state of arousal, but in his case, there were potentially much more easily visible cues that I was aiming for.

Balin much enjoyed the tome of anecdotes and stories we had compiled; they were memories we shared with him, and they spoke of the deep love and respect we had for our elder, for our teacher, for our friend.

“You’re such good kids. Thank you.” He murmured, touched, and squeezed his wife’s hand. She had come to check what the commotion was about and smiled warmly at us now. “Indeed, a very good gift…kids.” She nodded, but her eyebrow arched ever so slightly up as she saw us standing so close together, my body practically cradled in my husband’s. Clearly, she had a much more realistic understanding of what married life would be like than Balin.

“You have been so good to us.” I spoke, pressing my forehead gently against Balin’s in a wordless expression of reverence and honest affection. “Aye, you’re a good lass. I’m glad you married the boy; he looks much revived by your tender care.”

It was true that there was quite a blush staining the pristine skin of my betrothed, but his hand was steady when he patted my hip gently and smiled: “She’s a true blessing. If you could know half the happiness in your marriage that I have found in mine, you’d be blessed.”

I righted myself slowly, but Ori’s hand did not move from my waist, holding me steady as he knew that I – at times – was plagued by dizzy spells after being bent over for too long. “I love you.” He breathed into my neck, his nose brushing against my ear and his lips connecting for the briefest moment with my skin.

My eyes fluttered shut for a second as that old familiar feeling washed through me: the instinctive fear that had haunted me all my life being quickly drowned and washed away by the warmth of his steadfast devotion.

One would have thought that his warm words and his loving touch would douse the flames of my carnal urges, but that was far from true; the humble confession of his deep-felt affection for me only stoked the fire devouring my insides.

“Aye, you go dance. Make mock of Kíli who is trying to get the Elf maiden to join him in a jig; maybe shove my brother a little, he seems particularly sour-faced today.” Balin chuckled and waved his dismissal affectionately.

I felt not in the least inclined to make mock of our friend or to humour Dwalin who – indeed – looked like someone had laced his ale with vinegar; all I wanted was to get my husband into a quiet corner and ravage his innocent façade.

“I’ve heard he’s lusting after a human.” Ori sniggered beside me as he handed me a drink that was cold and alcoholic, a rarity for us. “Let him be. What do you know about lusting, Ori the virtuous?” I sneered, giving his ass a little pat.

“Have you met my wife?” He replied with a smirk that melted whatever was left of my resolve to be virtuous.

“I have not. You may introduce her to me.” A melodious voice wafted down, and I looked up, confused.

“King Thranduil, my wife. Darling, this is the king of the woodland realm.” Ori introduced me with a small flourish, and I curtsied, feeling for his hand to anchor me. I had never seen an Elf before and the only king I had ever met was our own. It was particularly disagreeable to know that he had watched me fondle my husband and had probably overheard our teasing, playful exchange that had been quite obviously seductive in nature.

“A pleasure to meet you.” He said, even though he didn’t look much pleased. “You were there, were you not? Oh, thank Eru Ilúvatar that all of you made it back. Blessed be your eternal life, mighty king.” I sighed, realising that this was yet another one of the great heroes whose blood had watered the fertile fields of my happiness.

He looked taken aback for a second, the painfully pale and narrow face melting from cold beauty into a warmer, softer expression, and then bowed his head ever so slightly as he said: “I thank you. Yes, we’ve been lucky.”

He looked around slowly. “He turned out to be a good king and a blessing in disguise. Oh, don’t tell him that I’ve said that, don’t tell any of them, but Thorin II and Bard are rulers one can rely on, even though they’re both really smelly.”

It was true that he exuded the sweet smell of wildflowers and green meadows, standing tall and luminous as a candle, but his smile had remained soft, and he even laughed under his breath when he saw that his son was trying to swing a dwarrowdam around who turned out to be too short and too heavy to make an ideal dance-partner for him.

“My happiness rests on that blessed triad.” I admitted quietly, feeling my husband’s hand tighten around mine.

“Do you share your wife’s honest respect, scribe?” Thranduil asked Ori soberly. “I trust my wife to know the truth about all matters and though the trespasses are not forgotten, they seem to be forgiven. The realm is thriving…and we are honoured that you have accepted to attend this wedding. Balin has ever been a dwarrow one could talk to.” My darling husband gave back diplomatically, but his face cracked into a sweet, honest smile.

“I’d not thought one could talk to any of you thick-skulled savages, but here I am, I might – potentially – have been just the slightest bit mistaken. Good night to you, make sure that you write down that I was here and that I found the ale bitter.” Thranduil smirked and walked away after bowing crisply.

“What a funny creature.” I laughed, turning back to my husband, and burying my face in his neck, revelling in the warm, earthy, familiar smell of stone and ink. “He definitely is, yes.” Ori laughed and I could feel the reverberations in my own chest; I loved the way he laughed, I loved the way it felt like the sun was rising warm and gracious on an otherwise barren and desolate field and turned it into a blooming meadow.

We had been consistently moving towards the wall until we found ourselves in a corner, away from the crowds.

“I love you. I’ve taken but two indeniably good decisions in my life: going on that quest and wooing you.” He grinned, only the tiniest bit abashed after all those years. “Is that so, Ori the brave?” I smiled back, pulling on one of his braids playfully which made him chuckle deep within his chest and lean forward to steal a chaste kiss.

“On this wedding night, tell me, do you ever regret not having searched further? Waited longer? Found someone…better?” His eyes were deep and dark, swirling with insecurities. I was not sure I believed in the concept of a “one” as others did, but if such a thing existed, he was surely mine. It was true that I had had very little experience with other dwarrows – for never had I felt the need to bind my body or my heart to any of them – and that I had wed the only one I had ever loved. That had been years ago and still, he did not truly believe he was that lucky.

A part of me was flattered, but mostly, I found it ridiculous.

“On this wedding night, and on any other, I’d rather be dead than without you.” I said earnestly, sweeping my fingers up the nape of his neck and into his hair, scratching my long nails along his scalp, which made him go cross-eyed with pleasure. Dwarrows and their hair, I thought, thinking of the way he pulled mine when in the throes of passion, which drove a slight sheen of sweat onto my brow and made me clench my thighs rhythmically to contain the throbbing need that had overtaken my whole consciousness.

“I love you. I love you in the way parchment drinks up ink, insatiably, constantly, and inevitably. You are utter perfection to me and not a single creature in this room or the rest of Arda could make me second-guess that fact.” I promised, brushing my lips against his as his back was pressed against the cold, unyielding wall behind him.

“You drive me to distraction, love of loves. They all think I am honourable.” He panted against my lips as I pressed my body into his a little more forcefully. “Do they really? After the incident in the broom closet?” I asked, amused.

“I made an excuse. Darling, you are a vixen.” He was high in colour now and I pecked tiny kisses on the golden sprinkles on the sunset-pink canvas that was his sweet, usually so placid, face. “It’s just because you’re so smitten with me…still.” I purred, shifting a bit to feel his arousal press hard into my soft belly.

“I am…very much so.” He sighed, caressing the side of my neck tenderly. Sure of himself, he leaned into another kiss, unprepared for the fire with which I would meet his lips and the quick flick of my tongue lavishing his mistreated lower lip with tenderness.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I spun around, feeling caught.

“The king, my eminent husband, is about to bestow a lovely decorative weapon he has crafted himself upon his friend. There will be a lot of fuss about it, I suggest you sneak away down the corridor to the left, third door on the right.” The queen grinned and pressed a key into my hand with a small wink.

“But…what…” I stammered. “I owe Ori.” She just shrugged with a devious smile and floated away.

“What was that about?” I asked my husband, breathless and visibly kiss-bruised. “I might have drawn out an account or two so Thorin could say he had read it already the night before and excuse himself for…interludes with his own betrothed?” Ori smirked wickedly.

Oh, his acts of naughty defiance were always in service to someone else, I thought, and he thought himself very daring and temerarious, when really, he was just a sweet, old softy who was loyal to a fault. There really was no way anyone could have admired, cherished, or loved another soul more than I venerated this soft creature of gold and bronze.

His hands were gentle as he brushed them down my naked arms; he was ever tender to me, making sure I understood how much I meant to him and that I was safe with him.

“What say you, wife of mine? Should we take the queen up on her offer?” He invited playfully though and I simply nodded, unable to form a coherent thought when he looked at me with that blend of lust and tenderness that made my knees turn to wax.

My insides were on fire, and I had already considered seducing my beloved husband underneath the table on which Balin’s many gifts were heaped or making him take me against the cold wall on the parapets of the balcony if his teasing went on much longer, so the prospect of a room with an actual door – as the key suggested – was a much better and very welcome alternative indeed.

His steps were steady as he led me down the designated corridor and when he unlocked the door, it took a moment for me to get used to the sudden darkness. “So, you love me still, yes?” He said softly, striking a match that I promptly blew out again.

“I love you still.” I murmured, my hands feeling their way down his body, tracing the outlines of his body, and moulding themselves around every single one of the delicious curves that a good life and happiness had drawn upon his scrawny frame.

“I love you always.” I went on, undoing the laces of his fine pants effortlessly in the darkness. This body was as much mine as the one my soul resided in and I knew it by touch, by sound, by heart.

I knew the taste of his kisses and the calluses on his fingers as they slipped inside the outrageous cleavage I was wearing to titillate him. “How did I get that lucky? My beautiful treasure, the most valuable thing I’ve ever held in those clumsy hands.” He sighed.

I retreated a few steps, bumping against a low edge that turned out to be a long, sturdy chest of some sort.

Reclining slowly and pulling him with me, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into another passionate kiss while his hands – that were far from blundering – roamed over my over-sensitive breasts.

“Say it!” He demanded, half desperate and half masterful. “I need you, oh, how I need you. I yearn for you. I am burning for you. I have been for decades, and I feel like I shall never stop!” I moaned as his head dipped down to lavish the tender peaks with kisses and careful nips that made my skin break out into gooseflesh.

My dress was bunched up most carelessly, the silk crinkling and shifting noisily over the thrum of my pulse, as his hands wandered up my thighs. “Where are your undergarments, woman?” He moaned when his fingers found the centre of my lust, bare and swollen, ready and slick for him already.

“In the same place my honour and virginity are, Ori the merciless.” I panted as his finger dipped into my heat tentatively. “On the floor of your bedroom.”

“Oh, you wicked woman. We better be quiet.” He chuckled. “I do not know that I can.” I whimpered. “Bite down on that.” He shifted and handed me a piece of cloth. It smelled of soap and of something darker I knew the taste of.

“Are those your undergarments, husband?” I asked, breathless, almost speechless with the naughtiness of it all.

“Hush.” He commanded and disappeared between my thighs and as his tongue took up its torturous ministrations again, I had no choice but to bite down hard on the fabric to keep from crying out.

I had been on the edge of the abyss for hours and it took very little to push me into the void. I shot up, clawing blindly at the chest as my body was wrecked with shivers that set my blood aflame and filled my mind with blinding whiteness.

Oblivion. Perfection.

“MORE!” I panted, pushing, pulling, prodding. My hands scrambled to find him and to pull him as close as he could be.

“Shhhh, love of loves.” I could feel the wetness of his beard – Mahal bless the long beards of peace times – as he came up again, covering my face with kisses and my body with his.

My hand slipped down, spreading the leaking, sticky proof of his own weakness along the shivering, silken heat I held so gingerly. A broken moan broke from his lips and his hips jerked against me.

“Beg!” I grinned, for I had promised that I would make him ask for it. “Oh, love of loves, oh star of my nights and sun of my days, please, welcome me home?” He sighed, spreading loving kisses on whatever he could find in the darkness.

Lifting my hips to meet him, I guided him – none too carefully – to my slick entrance and – with a single motion – old as time and yet always exhilarating, he dove into me. The guttural cry of relief and pleasure we shared was definitely too loud for comfort, but it could not be held back as my whole body quaked with the effect his weight and his purposeful thrust had on me. My back arched up as the delightful sensation of fullness – of being whole and fulfilled in every sense – tore at the seams of my sanity. We found a steady rhythm, punctuated by helpless panting, almost immediately and I felt the current of never-ceasing hunger roar up again ferociously within the tightness of my lower abdomen.

I had no idea where I was or what I was lying on, but I felt perfectly safe for I knew that body on top of mine; I could see my husband in all his glory before my mind’s eye. One of the best things about the long lives and the continued vitality of dwarrows was – I was a tad ashamed to admit – the sheer extent of sex we could have if we so chose.

And I so chose…again…and again, never growing tired or bored with seeing the same beauty burst into stars of amber and gold before my blurry eyes.

“Mahal have mercy.” Ori groaned as I tightened my legs around him, breathing in his scent in a contraction of my whole body while my nails raked teasingly down his back. “What is it, love of mine?” I asked, darkly, knowingly.

“One day, you’ll just kill me. I swear, one day, that soft, little heart of mine will just crumble to ashes in your fire.” He whimpered, pushing to his knees, and pulling me up effortlessly to get a better angle.

“Is that so, Ori the beautiful?” I laughed, a sound that melted into a deep moan when he tilted his hips and started caressing me, exposed as I was, held up only by his hips and his hand supporting my ass.

The answering groan told me all I needed to know.

“I love you.” These were the last words I heard before the storm inside my veins swallowed me whole and flung me into swirling galaxies of bursting stars and pulsating heat.

Collapsing on top of me with a strangled cry, my husband pressed his lips against the side of my neck on the exact spot that he had claimed that very first time he had ever kissed me. I wondered if, by the time they laid me to rest, the impression of his kisses would have left a visible indent after decades of pressing his lips on the very same patch of skin.

I liked that idea. I liked the idea of waking up when the world was made anew and being recognised immediately as the wife of the great and honourable scribe I was blessed to call my husband.

“I love you too, darling. We better get back.” I chuckled, trying to right my clothes in the darkness, wiping myself clean with my poor Ori’s undergarments that were soaked by my constant biting anyway.

“We’ll have to toss this one into the fire.” I chuckled. “I dare you to do it in the great hall.”

I could feel him blink owlishly; I knew that he was biting down on his lip with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“What do I get if I stroll past Thorin and the boys, throw my soiled small clothes into the fire, and come back?” Ah yes, that wicked note that set ripples of pleasure into motion on the still lake of my soul made me want to kiss him breathless again, right here, in this non-space of stolen moments.

“Whatever you wish for, husband.” I grinned, feeling my way back to the door.

“Oh, I can think of a few things.” In the soft light streaming in, all I could see was his face, slightly flushed still and beautiful as only the visage of true love could be, stretched into a grin that promised endless delights.

[soulmate-game]

“Are you paw-sitive this is alright?” Selina half-purred half-asked. The slender cat thief was dressed casually— for her, anyway— in a floor length amethyst purple gown that swept just barely above the floor, accentuating her curves and coming down in a deep V neck that was just barely within the constraints of being acceptable for public appearances. Her companion, almost half a foot shorter even in her short heels, was a stark contrast. It was as if all the two women had in common was their hair color, a rich deep black that shimmered blue in the right lighting.

Marinette, with her hair done up in two buns and wearing a sensible pink-and-white cheongsam top with apple blossom embroidery paired with an ankle-length denim skirt that had a knee-high slit in the front, nodded even as she eyed her friend’s choice of outfit with a small frown.

“Of course. Bruce is in the media’s eye all the time, and he knows I don’t have a care for the spotlight. But you do,” Marinette stopped talking for a second, snapping her fingers and reaching into her purse. She pulled out a gorgeous inch-thick collar necklace that was made entirely of thick panels of flawless silver and high-quality diamond. At the very center of the collar necklace, where it would hang right in the center of Selina’s collarbone, was a diamond-and-obsidian cat face. “I knew I was forgetting something! Bourgeois owed me a favor for doing the outfit for her last magazine cover pro bono, so I asked for this as payment. It’s exactly what your outfit is missing.”

Just because Marinette didn’t like revealing clothing didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate someone else wearing one well, after all. And Selina wore her dress perfectly.

Selina quirked an eyebrow, eyeing the necklace with her expert gaze. Gently, she trailed her fingertips over the tops of the diamonds in the thick bands of the collar as a small smile flicked over her lips. She raised her eyes up to Marinette’s, light green eyes sparkling with mischief and knowing.

“You got this as a bribe for me, didn’t you kitten?”

Marinette smiled unashamedly. “I know you’re a proud lesbian, but would you mind playing the role of Bruce’s girlfriend, just for the media? And only while you’re single, of course. If you ever want out, you only have to say the word. Bruce already agreed, but he also doesn’t mind continuing to play the careless bachelor if you aren’t willing.”

Selina scoffed, rolling her eyes and grabbing the necklace. Effortlessly, she swung it around her neck and clasped it in place. “Please, darling. You and I both know it drives you up a wall when Brucie is hounded by gold diggers every time he steps foot out of that mansion of his. I’ll play the camera-girlfriend, but only for a maximum of a year. And you two can only call on me one a week at most, a girl’s gotta have some time to herself.”

Marinette nodded eagerly. “That’s fine! We probably won’t even call on you that much, Bruce is planning to play the ‘we want to keep our relationship pretty low-key’ card for now. Just an appearance once a month or two ought to satisfy those vampiric paparazzi.”

Selina just smiled. She had practically adopted Marinette years previous, during a trip to Paris where she had found out she apparently had a male doppelgänger. Now the two were sisters in all but official (Not-forged) legal documents. And because of that, Bruce had somehow become her brother.

Which Bruce later found out, meant that Selina would relentlessly tease him every time she needed to appear as his “girlfriend.”

Relentlessly.

But Marinette and Bruce had a Plan. She wasn’t quite ready to make a public appearance as his real girlfriend, mostly because of loose ends that still had to be tied back in France. She was making so many trips back and forth between the two countries that they couldn’t see each other in person much to begin with, so they also didn’t want their few in-person meetings tainted by greedy D-rate journalists.

But yes, they had a Plan. One year was the perfect time frame for the last stretch of said plan. Marinette would tie up the last few things she had to do in Paris, start an official branch of her fashion company in Gotham, and they would stage an entire break-up with Selina, a three-month “break” to “recover” and then a suitably dramatic, romantic “meet-cute” between the two of them to start what the media would see as a love-at-first-sight, fairytale relationship.

Nobody needed to know about Marinette and Bruce’s five-year pining session, or their one-year fumble through figuring out how to date one another before actually getting it right, or the most recent three-years of dealing with the fact that they were both highly experienced hero/vigilantes, the leaders of their own hero teams, and highly accomplished business people.

It was a hard relationship utterly riddled with drama, but they had finally reached the stable point where they were ready to commit. Sort of. They just needed Selina to fake-date Bruce in the public eye for a couple months, and then everything would be fine.

—*—*—*—*—*

One year and three months later.

Marinette shifted her purse on her shoulder. This would be her first time in over five years actually setting foot inside the Wayne Manor. She was excited to see Alfred again, and to hash out the last details for her and Bruce’s public “meet-cute.” But Alfred didn’t open the door this time, a short green-eyed boy with an all-too-familiar frown on his face did.

And once again, Marinette knew that Selina was not the mother. Her pseudo-sister was, as she had said so long ago, a very proud lesbian. But Marinette did know of a past fling of Bruce’s who did possess the proper genes to help create a child of this age.

Marinette smiled, pushing her inner rage at the thought of Talia Al Ghul out of her mind. She was still pissed beyond all rational thought when she heard about what Talia had done to Bruce. But this child was not at fault for any of it, only an innocent by-product.

“Hello. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Would you mind telling Alfred I’m here?”

“Tt. Why should I?” The apparently bratty boy asked, crossing his arms and glaring straight at her. Marinette felt her eye twitch.

“I am a close friend of Bruce— Would I be correct in assuming he’s your biological father?” Immediately upon her question, the boy’s eyes widened ever so slightly in shock before his glare intensified. Marinette chuckled. “He didn’t tell me that he adopted any new children, and he always tells me when he adopts. Which means he didn’t have to adopt you, suggesting you are related to him directly. You can’t be a cousin or nephew, he has no living blood family. And all his pseudo-siblings are alive and fine, so you weren’t left to his care in anybody’s will,” she deduced out loud for him. “Plus, the green eyes and tan skin— I know of exactly one of Bruce’s past… suitors… who happens to fit the timeframe and features necessary.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “Most assume that I am that harlot Selina Kyle’s spawn,” he snapped, but it lacked the same heat this time around. He was now analyzing her face closely, and Marinette noticed. She was careful to keep her eagerness toned down. She really just wanted to see Bruce and be able to hug and cuddle him for the first time in almost a year, and this child was her only obstacle at the moment. A very stubborn one.

Marinette sighed. “Selina is like a sibling to me, don’t call her a harlot. If Selina was ever pregnant, I would have known. Hell, Selina would have given me her baby to raise because she doesn’t have any interest in being a mother. Now, the polite thing to do when someone introduces themselves is so introduce yourself back. Not interrogate or intimidate them.”

The boy huffed, straightening his emerald turtleneck and rolling his shoulders back. “I am Damian Wayne,” he replied imperiously. “And Father has never mentioned a friend by the name Marinette. Which leads me to believe you are yet another no good hopeful suitor, and Father is still recovering after he and Kyle finally split up for good.”

Marinette froze, and slowly her eyes narrowed. “He never mentioned my name? Ever?”

“Tt. I already said no.”

Finally, the shape of Alfred Pennyworth came into view behind Damian. He had obviously heard the last bit of the conversation, because he just sighed and shared a long suffering look with Marinette. It was that look that made Marinette’s eye twitch a second time.

“Alfred,” she said slowly. “Has he mentioned me at all to any of his kids?”

“He has not,” Alfred replied. “And furthermore, Miss Selina would not stop giving him a hard time whenever he had to call her out for an appearance. It seems all of the children mistook their relationship for actually being of a romantic nature.”

Damian spun to the butler, eyes wide and swimming with a multitude of emotions. “What do you mean, ‘actually’, Alfred?”

“He means,” Marinette began before Alfred had the chance. Her eyes were narrowed, matching storms of dark, furious blue. “That Selina was only pretending to be Bruce’s girlfriend so that the press and gold-diggers would leave him alone. And apparently I need to beat some sense into my stupid, idiotic boyfriend, who I should have known would do something like this,” she looked up at Alfred, jaw clenching. “That man would never be able to pass for a functioning human without either you or me keeping his head screwed on. Where is he?”

“Not at the manor currently, Mademoiselle Marinette.”

“Alfred.”

The butler gave Marinette a rather mischievous little grin. “Master Bruce has forbade me from telling you where he is currently, he wanted you to stay at the manor and sleep the jet lag off until he got back. But I can tell you that he is not currently on Earth or on a mission.”

“Alfred!” Damian hissed, shocked that the man would say something so revealing. Alfred was the perfect secret keeper, why would he tell someone Bruce had never mentioned something so telling?”

“Oh, calm yourself Master Damian,” Alfred soothed. “Marinette has known about Master Bruce’s nighttime activities since before you were born. If anything, I believe he rightfully deserves the wake up call he is about to receive.”

Marinette nodded, eyes still stormy and determined. “Alright, so he’s at the Watchtower. The Zeta tunes are still in the Batcave, right?” When Alfred nodded, Marinette wasted no time. She easily slid around Damian and stormed into the manor, finding her way to the Batcave on pure muscle memory and rage.

“Wait, Alfred! I demand an explanation!” Damian’s loud voice slowly grew quieter as Marinette stormed down into the cave, ignoring how Alfred began to calmly explain the situation to the boy. She just slid right in to the Zeta tube, and commanded the computer to send her to the Watchtower.

“P-001, codename LADYBUG, recognized.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Batman pinched his nose from where he stood at the head of the meeting room in the watchtower. The briefing was supposed to start over an hour ago, but Hal Jordan had been twenty minutes late. No surprise there. But still, SuperMan had insisted that they wait until everyone arrived. And really, normally Batman would too. Except that his long time girlfriend was going to be landing in Gotham any minute now, and he would rather be back at the manor to greet her.

And the asinine argument that had been going on for the past forty minutes was finally going to end, even if Bruce had to hogtie every last one of his insufferable coworkers himself and force them through the rest of the meeting strapped to their chairs.

“Okay, can we PLEASE begin the meeting now, or so help me I will break out my kryptonite restraints,” he threatened darkly. He might have only mentioned Kryptonite, but everyone knew that that threat was actually aimed at all of them. Batman knew every last one of their weaknesses and was not above being petty when they strained his last nerve.

Quickly getting the hint, the entire room rushed to fill their seats and at least fake at paying attention. But of course, nothing goes quite right in the life of Bruce Wayne. Right as he turned on the slideshow he had prepared and began the meeting, the sound of an enraged woman’s voice echoed down the hallway in a deafening roar.

“BRUCE THOMAS WAYNE, YOU ARE IN SOOOO MUCH TROUBLE!”

Batman felt as if someone had just shoved him into a cryogenic freezer, a harsh shiver of dread running down his spine. There was exactly one person who could terrify him with a single word, and it just so happened to be the woman he was hiding a wedding ring from.

For the past eight years, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Oh shit,” Bruce breathed, but found he was unable to move from his spot. Yes, he wanted to see Marinette so badly that it hurt. But he also would like to stay alive.

SuperMan leaned forward, not really concerned since Batman would have reacted much differently had the voice been coming from a real threat. Instead, the man leveled his old friend with a very teasing smirk.

“Why is your heart suddenly racing?”

Bruce could only glare daggers at Clark before the door to the meeting room swung open, a tiny French woman standing there in a long, formal white-and-pink knee-length gown with a cheongsam neckline and one of her leaf-green heels held in each hand threateningly.

“You absolute idiot! When I said I wanted to keep our relationship out of the public eye, I didn’t mean to keep me a secret from EVERYBODY!”

“But darling—“ Bruce cut himself off as he was forced to dodge one deadly-accurate piece of flying footwear. “You don’t understand. The boys cannot keep a secret to save their life.”

“They have secret identities, don’t they?” She slipped her other shoe back on. She had known that her shoe never had a chance of hitting, and with Bruce in full Batman gear, even if it had hit him the high heel would have felt like she had only thrown a pillow. Had it been otherwise, she wouldn’t have even joked about throwing her shoes at him. But as it stood, she knew none of the normal things she had on her would be able to so much as make Bruce say “ow.”

Marinette placed both of her fists on her hips, marching up to Batman and pulling him down the full foot it took for him to be able to look her in the eye. His resulting gulp was clearly audible, and visible, to everyone else in the room. “You absolute, emotionally dense moron,” her voice had dropped from a yell to a mildly fond, but still very annoyed, grumble. “Your kids are mostly adults now, you know. And you never told me about Damian either. Did you honestly think I’d be mad?” Bruce looked away from her, which was honestly all the answer she needed. Marinette sighed, letting him go and softening her voice. “You need to trust your kids more, Bruce. I never wanted you to keep me a secret from your family, or even your close friends. Just the annoying ass paparazzi. And trust me a little bit more, yeah? I know it isn’t exactly your strong suit, but I’ve known you long enough that you should know I’m not gonna run for the hills just because you have a biological kid that wasn’t with me.” Marinette risked giving him a slightly vulnerable, lopsided smile. And Bruce immediately deciphered what it meant. His shoulders slumped.

The cost of using the Ladybug Miraculous for so long was that Marinette had to give up her fertility. She could never have children of her own, and Bruce had felt guilty that he had had a biological child, even though he hadn’t exactly consented to it, without her. But now he could see where he went wrong.

Marinette was just happy to have another piece of him to take care of. She never would have resented him for what had happened with Talia. And, seeing all of those facts written on her face now, he felt more than a little blind.

“... sorry.”

Marinette just huffed out a short, soft laugh before grabbing Bruce by the bicep. She turned to look at the other heroes still in the room, half of them uncomfortable with seeing such an emotional display while the others looked like they were incredibly invested in a good soap opera. She shot them a grin.

“I’m stealing him for the next few days, okay? Don’t worry, I’m sure you can make do with making Diana read the slideshow. I know from experience that it has everything you guys need to know and more. Don’t call us, I’ll field all your contact to Agent A!!” With that, she dragged Bruce by the arm out of the room.

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly resisting. Even if the reunion was far from ideal, just having this little bit of contact was extremely relaxing for the vigilante. When they reached the Zeta Tubes, he stopped Marinette and pulled her in for a kiss.

When they inevitably pulled away for breath, he smiled at her. “As soon as we get back, I’ll call everyone in and explain the situation,” he promised. “And then, we can spend the rest of the night doing whatever you want.”

Marinette smiled back, shoving him into the Zeta Tube. “Then get ready, because I wanna sleep off this damn jet lag and I plan on cuddling you like a koala the whole time. No escape.”

“B-001, Codename BATMAN. Recognized.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied right before he was whisked off. The sound of the love of his life laughing followed him through until he reached the other end of the teleportation.

—*—*—*—*—*

@maribat-writing-and-prompts

[nonbinarylowkey]

collar

Rating: Explicit. MINORS: DO NOT TOUCH! Pairing: Loki/Reader Summary: On the last night of Chanukah, your true love gave to you... a collar. So you decide to test it out. Just, maybe, not in the way he was expecting.  Note: Posted this on ao3 a lot earlier in the day, but now that I’m home and can format this properly, it’s finally going up here! Woo! Anyway, the Loki trailer dropped on the first night of Chanukah + the last night of Chanukah was Loki’s birthday so naturally these two things combined in my brain and led to this. Hope you enjoy it! It’s sub!Loki.

Loki Laufeyson looks good in a collar.

Like, criminally good, you think, walking circles around him.  You trail your index finger along the top edge of the collar as you go.

He shivers.

Loki kneels on the plush grey carpet of your bedroom floor, knees spread wide to give you the best possible view. His pants are unbuttoned, hanging low on his hips. He's not wearing underwear tonight, you discovered when you first started this game, and so the head of his cock peeks out from the open waistband. His hands are restrained behind his back. His shirt never made it to the bedroom.

"I'm waiting," he says when you finish your circle and take your place in front of him.

You raise an eyebrow at him, "And you'll continue to wait until I've decided what to do with you."

"You are a cruel mistress," he shakes his head, but the cheeky grin on his face betrays his somber tone.

You pull the golden leash toward you; Loki falls forward with it, his face nicely cushioned by the area between your thighs. You run a hand through his hair and take advantage of the places where your fingers snag in his curls by pulling his head back so that he is looking straight up at you. Even in this position, defiance colors every inch of him. His shoulders are set back, his spine straight. The set of his jaw is stiff, giving his smile a distinctly sinister look.

You lick your lips.

"If you didn't want me to be cruel, you shouldn't have gotten me a collar for Chanukah."

"Ah, but you were meant to be the one wearing it," he nuzzles his cheek against you.

"But you look so good in it, Mischief. How could I resist?" You kneel down to kiss him, laughing as you catch his grinning lips with yours. Your content to stay like that, sharing breathy laughs with each other while your mouths move against one another. But Loki is not content in one position for very long so when he starts grinding himself against your leg, give a sharp nip to his lip. "Be good for me, please?"

" Goodness is not in my nature."

"Well then, maybe I should break out the strap. Deprive your cock of any fun tonight." You run your finger along the collar again, then press your thumb to his Adam's apple just above it.

His tongue drags a slow trail along his lips.

"Oh, please do deprive me," he says in a tone that lets you know he wouldn't actually consider the strap a deprivation at all.

"Right," you roll your eyes. You glance at the bed behind Loki, looking for inspiration. How to make the God of Mischief behave… "Maybe I should just tie you to the bedpost while I get myself off."

A hiss catches your attention. Loki's teeth are bared now and he's glaring.

Hit the nail right on the head , you think.

You make your way over to the bed, twirling the leash around your finger as you go. The knot you tie the leash into around the post is loose; it's definitely something Loki could undo with little to no effort on his part. But it gets your threat across all the same. You perch on the side of the bed closest to him. One of your hands slips under the waistband of your shorts. You're wet already; the sight of Loki at your mercy ensured that much. Your fingers slip inside your folds easily; an exaggerated moan drives home the idea of what Loki will be missing if he doesn't agree to be good.

He growls.

For a moment, your touch lingers on your clit. You rub slow, gentle circles over it, careful not to work yourself up too much; despite your teasing you weren't going to keep Loki from all the fun. You twist your hand so your thumb continues to press at your clit while you sink two fingers into yourself.

It isn't enough. You grind into your hand, trying to get the same fulfillment from your own touch as you would from Loki. Lower lip caught between your teeth, you groan in frustration.

"You only torment yourself by keeping me tied," he said through gritted teeth. It was a commendable show of restraint that he didn't just break out of his restraints; one you thought you might have rewarded if the game wasn't so amusing.

"Maybe I like torment."

He snorts, "I reiterate: you should be the one in the collar."

"Hush, you," you stick your tongue out at him. It's a decidedly unsexy thing to do. You take your hand out of your shorts and stick your fingers out to him.

Loki takes your fingers into his mouth without question. His gaze burns into yours as his tongue swirls around your digits; he is a man dying of thirst presented with a cool glass of water. When he's gotten all he can from your fingers, he pulls back, teeth dragging across your skin. It makes you feel powerful, even if you have no idea what to do with the power.

"Undress me. No hands," you leave your perch on the bed so that you can hook a finger underneath his collar. You pull his head up; eyes on you. "No magic, either. Just your mouth."

"Is that all?" He asks. Anticipation leaves his breaths heavy; an open mouthed smirk adorns his lips as he tries to keep it under control. The effect is entirely indecent.

Is it too late to give up the game and just let him fuck you?

"It's a start."

In his enthusiasm, Loki manages to get some skin when he latches on to the fabric of your shorts. It stings in the best way, amplifying the want flowing through your body and the drag of his nose as his mouth reveals more of your skin. He abandons your shorts when he reaches your center. He breathes your scent in and presses his nose to your clit, nuzzling.

You suck in a breath. The game dictates that you reprimand him for acting without permission. You don't want to. Instead you pull on his collar to bring him closer, to invite more of his willfulness.

He complies, most eagerly.

Loki's tongue delves deep, reaching places no one else had ever bothered to find. And while he is eager about what he's doing, he makes sure to go slow; to savor every last drop his mouth can find. To torture you. And you're pretty sure he's trying to torture you for even suggesting that he wouldn't get to touch you.

"Fuck, Loki," you moan, gripping his hair tight in your hand.

"Yes, fucking is the goal here," he laughs against you, sending delicious vibrations through your core.

You buck into his mouth. You need more and your body is reaching the limits of its patience. So you push him away and, startled, he falls on his ass. Despite your growing impatience, you do take a moment to admire the sight of him. His face is coated with your wetness, a mark of his passion for the taste of you. The collar and matching leash sparkle in the room's lights and his arms remain restrained behind his back - all evidence of his trust and willing submission to you.

With his hands restrained, he's no help in getting his pants off. You don't bother trying to get them off all the way. Shoving them halfway down his thighs is enough that his cock is fully free. And with his pants out of the way, you straddle him in one breath and only leave the space of one more before you bury his cock into your heat. You tug on his arms.

"Touch me," you demand.

Obediently, he frees his arms of the spell he'd used to restrain them. He runs his hands over your thighs, up your hips and waist, and then retraces that path back down. He touches you everywhere he can reach, memorizing each bump and blemish and stretch of skin that you offer to him.  He tangles a hand in your hair, uses the grip to pull you down for a kiss; the fact his face is still covered in your juices is no deterrent for him. He wants you to taste what he does to you, wants to remind you that although he is the only one wearing a collar tonight, you belong to him as surely as he belongs to you.

"Shall we take this to the bed?" He asks. But he doesn't give you the chance to to answer before he's moving the two of you off the floor.

You don't even really manage to follow how he does it. All you know is that one moment the two of you are on the floor and the next your back is hitting the mattress while Loki looms above you.

"I thought I was supposed to be in charge?" You wrap your legs around his waist.

He nuzzles your neck, "Always, my queen. So much so that you needn't use words for me to know what you desire of me."

"Silvertongue," you say, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

All talking stops when he kisses you, open mouthed, and sliding that silvertongue of his against your own. He lines himself up with your entrance, once more burying himself inside of you. It feels like he's come home to you, always; no matter how many times you're together like this, it's a homecoming.

Then he's moving, rolling his hips slowly, deliberately against you at first; you can hardly breathe for the sensation he sparks within your body. But it isn't long before he speeds his movements up. He grows frantic and rough, pushes one of your legs down into the mattress so that he can go deeper inside of you. He swallows each of your cries, keeping the noises he forces from you all for himself. He's selfish, you see, and he wants to keep your moans and shouts and pleas for more all to himself. There are other ways to show the world that you belong to each other; your noises are all for him.

You reach your climax both too soon and too slowly. You try to keep your eyes open, you want to see Loki when you reach your peak. But you're feeling too much. It's all too overwhelming so you squeeze your eyes shut and press your face into his neck because if you can't see him, you can at least try to mold yourself to him so that you never have to be apart.

Loki isn't far behind you. He murmurs desperate I love yous and my queens and other endearment as he comes. You're too far gone to understand the words, but the sentiment comes through all the same when his hips stutter against yours and he spills into you.

Silence falls over the room in the aftermath. His forehead is pressed against yours, breath intermingling in the small space between your faces.

Your fingers fumble with the collar's clasp. When it unlatches, it falls to the floor, forgotten.

"Was I good enough for you, my love?" He falls to his side, maneuvering you until you're lying on your side facing him with his arms wrapped securely around you. One of your legs is propped up on his hip.

You trace his mouth with one finger, "You've certainly got a mouth on you, I'll tell you that."

He smirks and catches your finger with his teeth, nibbling just a little bit on the first knuckle.

"But, yeah, I'd say you were more than good enough," you laugh. "Happy birthday, Lokes."

"Happy Chanukah," he responds.

[tatestripedsweater]

Sinner

Plot: You were known as any mans dream, the innocent virgin girl that went to church on Sunday’s. It all changed once you met the boy who intended to destroy that innocence.

Warnings: Sexual Intercourse, Oral (Male Receiving), Blasphemy, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Not proof red properly

Teen!James x Teen!Fem!Reader

Word count: 2958

A/N: The names of his parents are solely made up since we don’t know anything about them

1913

Being the son of the priest within the local church he had learned when to speak and when not too, but the one thing he learned was not to treat a woman like his own father treated his mother. And due to this he started to shit on every word his father, Patrick, had told him from a very young age: ‘If a woman doesn’t do as she’s told a beating wouldn’t go a miss’.

James didn’t believe that to be true, in fact he was the one that got most of the beatings within the household because of him disagreeing with his fathers outlook on women. James saw them as delicate creatures, you were what could be compared to a flower blossoming, showing it’s true beauty to the world.

“Come here James” Not saying a word he let his mother do his tie once again, no matter how many times he did it she always saw something wrong with the way he tied it. It wasn’t in a horrible way either, Dorothy knew how her husband reacted if his family wasn’t looking their best at church.. or anywhere for that matter.

James almost choked at how tight she had done his tie, loosening it when she wasn’t looking he only smiled. He sometimes wondered what his mother saw in his father to marry him, was it his wealth? Probably.

“You know he doesn’t like it loose James..” Her soft voice was the only thing that spoke within the drawing room. Dorothy could only laugh slightly at her only child’s defiance, part of her worried for his life as well but she didn’t dare say a word against her husband. “You know.. there’s going to be plenty of girls at today’s service”

She spoke of this every time, being eighteen he should’ve already been married or at least courting a woman to do so. James wanted to marry, but on his own terms and not just some random girl his parents thought would suit him the best. He already knew who his mother and father had eyed him up to marry, James didn’t want to admit he found her beautiful as it would be following what his father was saying. He wasn’t a follower, James was a leader.

“Y/N is a lovely girl, comes from a wonderful family” James knew his mother meant well, she wanted her only boy.. only child to succeed in life. “Just try, please..?”

“I’ll speak with her after the service..” He couldn’t help but feel some satisfaction when he saw the smile grace his mother’s features, and with all that was said and done he wrapped his arm around her own before walking out of the family home together.

-

Sitting down near the back even though his father liked his family to be front and center, James couldn’t help but smile when he saw that you were sitting beside him. James could feel his mother’s eyes on him, she knew what he was up to without even asking. Dorothy could read her son like a book, she birthed the boy after all, but one thing she knew is that he wasn’t like his father and for that she thanked god.

You could smell the tobacco and cologne as soon as he sat down beside you, the thoughts that were going through your head were that of a whore so you refused to even make eye contact with him. James could tell you were hanging on to all the bullshit his father spoke off, just by the way you were dressed he could see that you were a good Christian girl, probably a virgin as well.

“It’s not polite to ignore the Priest’s son..” James hoped this would catch your attention and thankfully it did, gulping out of nerves your head turned to look over at him, both of your eyes meeting. “I’m James'' He decided to whisper so no one heard that the two of you were speaking at the same time as his fathers sermon.

“Y/N..” A soft smile landed on your face as you spoke to him, your voice was as soft as honey, almost like his favourite symphony. James could help but become aroused at the very sight of you, you weren’t doing anything promiscuous, in fact the innocent aura that surrounded you was the thing that made his cock harden in his slacks.

As the sermon went on, James’ thoughts only muted his fathers voice. All he could think about was your body, how you’d feel wrapped around his cock and the little whimpers that would escape as soon as he thrusted his cock inside your virgin cunt. James wasn’t a virgin himself, he lost it to some girl he couldn’t even remember the name of, she wasn’t important right now but you were. These thoughts were cut short when everyone stood up, some having started to leave. Had he really been day dreaming the entire time?

His mother looked at him from across the church and he knew what she was getting at, he had earlier promised to speak to you alone after the service was over. James didn’t know how his mother had convinced him to leave James alone in the place of worship, but James noticed a slight smirk on his fathers face as he walked past. Patrick must’ve thought that James was finally going to follow his instruction and marry a girl, but what James had planned was far from the truth.

He watched as you moved to sit at the very front, you looked up at a statue of The Lord as if you had some repenting to do. James wondered what you could’ve done that was so wrong, probably stepping on a bug because he couldn’t even imagine that you would do anything that was considered a sin. The only noise in the church were James’ footsteps as he walked closer to you, the rest of the town having left minutes before.

“You know, Jesus can’t save you” A shocked expression plastered over your face as soon as that left James’ mouth, you didn’t expect this and him of all people, the Priests son. “Whatever you have done, I can assure you he won’t save you.”

“What makes you say that..?” You didn’t dare look up at him, you kept your eyes on the statue that was half the size of the church walls. James didn’t know how to answer that question, well he did but the boy didn’t want to admit that he was weak at the hands of his father. He used to pray, every night in fact, that something or someone would come and take his father away.. that James would be saved from the countless beatings that were bestowed upon himself and his mother but alas.. nothing. So the praying stopped as did James’ belief at salvation.

“Just trust me dear” The small nickname wasn’t much, but it made your cheeks blush a bright red which didn’t go unnoticed by James. He could tell you weren’t used to much affection yourself, and he was right. Your parents were just as strict as his own but with the abuse, so if they knew you were alone with a boy even if it was the priest's father, there would be hell to pay when you got home.

“I-I should go..” Just as you stood up James moved so he was right in front of you, he was taller than you so the intimidation flowed through your body. “Please.. I should get home” Gasping softly, his hand gently placed itself on your cheek, you had never felt something so soft before.

“What did you do? What caused you to stay behind?” Your nervous demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by him, in fact James stepped even closer to you as he pulled his hand away. “Tell me..”

“I… I have these thoughts..” Gulping visibly you looked over at James just as he raised his eyebrow, urging you to go on. “S-sexual thoughts..” Just as that left your mouth a smirk landed itself on the boy's face, you out of everyone was the last person he expected to be thinking about getting fucked. Part of him was glad, you weren’t the sweet and innocent girl you made yourself out to be but the other part.. the other part wanted to punish you and fuck you until you were screaming like a banshee.

“Are they about me?” The bluntness of the question made you quickly look away from him, he wasn’t wrong and in fact whenever you touched yourself James was the one thought that always made you cum. You knew it was wrong, that lust was a sin and that you needed to beg for forgiveness.. but why did something that felt so good be so wrong?

Nodding slowly you couldn’t get any words out, afraid that you might spill too much truth if you did open your mouth. The next question that he asked had you blushing like a whore, in fact you even felt like one with the way you had reacted.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” Shaking your head slowly, James’ hand gripped onto your wrist and placed it upon the bulge that was forming in his slacks. “You feel that, that’s what you do to me Y/N! Now get on your knees and start praying!”

Pushing you down by your shoulders, your face came into contact with his crotch and you soon felt your cheeks heat up. You watched as his hands started to unbuckle his belt, his hands were big and the watch on his wrist only screamed that he was rich. Just as his belt came off his slacks soon fell to the floor once he unbuttoned them, you could see the outline off his cock in James’ briefs and the gulps down your throat didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Pull them down” Your shaking hands gripped onto the tops of his briefs before doing as you were told, as soon as you pulled them down his cock made its presence known. Pre cum was already forming at the tip of his cock, and you soon felt yourself grow aroused the longer you stared at it. “Wrap your lips around my cock, you don’t want me to make you”

Your wet mouth wrapped around his cock and you had to be honest, the sensation and taste was odd, you didn’t know how to describe it. But the noise that came from James as soon as you started to suck his cock was enough to make your cunt went, the saltiness of his skin and the feeling of his hands moving into your hair had you whining against him.

“Take my cock!” A gagging noise was heard as soon as his cock hit the back of your throat, tears falling down your cheeks as he continued to assault your throat. Your hands moved up to dig into his hips as he practically fucked your mouth, not being used to this at all the gagging kept up as did the drool that fell from your lips and down onto his balls. “Good girl!”

He pulled your head away just to have a good look at you, your lips were swollen and eyes red from the tears. You half expected him to thrust back into your mouth, to finish what he had started but you were surprised when James pulled you back up to your feet.

“Look at you.. if only your parents could see you now” The thought of them walking back into the church had you gulp, the drool falling from your mouth was wiped by James’ handkerchief. “As much as I want to taste you, and trust me I do my dear, I want my cum inside you this second!”

Bending you over the podium, James couldn’t help but smirk at how he had you. Your dress riding up, showing your underwear as he bent you over the very place his father spew about all the bullshit and gods ‘plan’. The only plan that was in James’ mind was fucking you until you were screaming, he knew it would echo and he half hoped that people would hear the two off you. What were they going to do? Pry you apart with his cock still inside you? He doesn’t think so.

As soon as the cold air hit your cunt you knew he had pulled your underwear down, being bare behind a boy you rarely knew had you blushing. He was the priest's son.. so surely he knew what he was doing. The moment you felt his cock rub against your wet cunt was the moment a moan fell from your lips, the way he was grinding against your clit felt so good and you didn’t know why something like this would be considered a sin at all. You were in heaven.. but if this meant you would go to hell for having sex out of wedlock then they can throw you downstairs and lock up the key.

Leaning over you, his chest pressed against your own, James’ lips kissing your shoulder as he slowly slid his cock inside you. You had never felt a sensation like it, you were half expecting it to hurt with all the horror stories you heard but it didn’t. The only sensation you felt was fullness, being full of James’ cock. A grunt felt from your lips as he felt you wrap around him, you were made for his cock and he couldn’t wait to make you his.

“Darling..” Wrapping his arm around you to help you keep balanced against the podium, James’ hips started to thrust faster and the only noise in the church were both of your moans and his skin slapping against yours. You could feel his balls hitting your clit with each thrust and it only added to the sensation of being fucked, James continued to kiss and nip at your skin until he was happy he had left a bite mark. He was careful though, he left it on your back, making sure that no one would see and that he would be the only one who knew you to be such a harlot.

“Y-you feel so good..” The moans that fell from your lips bounced off the walls of the church, the podium shaking with each hard thrust that James had delivered to you. The both of you were in absolute pleasure and not anyone could stop it, James wouldn’t let anyone stop you both. He could feel how wet your cunt was getting with each thrust he delivered to you, the wet noises as he pounded into you was enough to emit a growl from his throat. He needed this, and he needed you.

“Mine!” James was a rather possessive boy, he liked owning things and right now he owned you. Moving one of his hands down, his finger made contact with your clit and rubbed it in circles with the rhythm of his thrusts, which seemed to be getting slipper by the second and he knew he was going to cum inside you any minute. But he wanted you to cum first, James wanted to hear you scream out his name.

Your legs started to turn to jelly the more pressure he applied to your clit, you were almost seeing stars and part of you felt like you were going to pass out right then and there. But you managed to hold off, your knuckles turned white as you gripped onto the sides of the podium before screaming loudly. James took pleasure in hearing this, it was like someone was getting murdered and fucked at the same time.

“That’s it! Cum for me!” Your cunt started to tighten around his cock like a vice, no matter how many women he fucked James couldn’t get used to the sensation of a woman coming undone underneath him. You looked like a goddess and honestly he wouldn’t be surprised if you actually were one, your cunt was leaking onto the wooden floors underneath you both and just the very sight of that had James fill you up with his seed. “Fuck!”

Gasping at the sensation, you didn’t actually expect him to finish inside you. You thought it was just some fantasy of his, but never thought he would actually go through with it due to the risk of pregnancy. “Shh.. take my cum, every last drop!”

James had you practically pinned between him and the podium, panting heavily against your shoulder you couldn’t help but think of the consequences of your actions. You were going to have to do some repenting after this otherwise you could see yourself meeting the man downstairs, your cheeks were flushed from the very thought of his cock still being inside you. His cum coated the insides of your cunt, James was surely going to impregnate you at this point and that meant you’d have to marry him.

Mrs March.. that sounded nice. You were pulled apart from your thoughts as he kissed your shoulder once again, where he had left the love bite as if to smooth you. James may have fucked you like a whore, and he may have treated you like one during the short time you spend together but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was a softer side to the man behind you. His hands caressed your hips and your question was answered almost instantly, you didn’t even need to ask him to know the answer.

“Marry me..” You weren’t surprised as he whispered that in your ear, James couldn’t help but smirk as your cheeks flushed red. “Marry me Miss Cortez..”

[farfromharry]

The one with the much needed bandaid | Peter’s Girl

Summary: You and Peter finally talk about what you saw the night of Liz’s party, and you become sort of his go to nurse

Word count - 2375

Warnings - mentions of injury, language? i can’t remember

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

Peter had spent the entire weekend practically pulling his hair out over the whole thing with Y/N. He couldn’t believe he was so reckless that in the space of the same night he’d managed to one, accidentally reveal his identity to one of his best friends, two, scare away the bad guys by underestimating just how dangerous they were, and three, summon Mr Stark- well his suit and some kind of phone call, to save him from a lake after being dropped in by some weird bird man.

So you could say Peter’s last few days hadn’t been very enjoyable or realistic at all and it was driving him insane.

He was trying to fix things one by one, and he’d begun with apologising to Mr Stark for any inconvenience he caused. His mentor was quick to brush it off, telling him not to get too worked up about it, but warning him to leave the dangerous men to him and the people who were specially trained to deal with these kinds of things, not just some kid from Queens.

He didn’t know how much of that he would stick to, determined to catch these guys as quickly as possible if the avengers weren’t going to jump in, but he’d try and keep that quiet and unknown to Tony of course.

The next part of his plan was to find you on Monday morning, to at least try and explain what he was doing in Spiderman’s suit outside of Liz’s party, maybe tell a few white lies to get himself out of the web he’s caught himself in.

And his plan for the bad guys… well that was still in the works, but he was smart so he’d figure it out in his own time.

»»——⍟——««

You had received numerous texts and calls from Peter since the moment you woke up that morning, all of which had been ignored. You’d gathered he’d want to talk to you but you weren’t returning the sentiment, and you weren’t even sure why. Were you mad he didn’t tell you? Mad that he’d put himself in all that danger?

You didn’t know, but you did know that you were planning on avoiding him so you didn’t have to find out.

Peter had met up with Ned that morning like he did every morning. He was rambling on about some new star wars theory that the brunette would normally love to hear and give his opinion on, so the fact that Peter was ignoring him was strange.

“Are you okay? You seem a little on edge,” Ned pointed out. Peter turned to look at him with a small, unconvincing look.

“I just need to talk to Y/N.”

Ned rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what happened that night other than Peter had left him looking stupid at the party, prompting Flash to call the boy some names while he wasn’t there.

Seeing as Mj had stopped defending him and Ned wouldn’t get involved, the male was free to ridicule Peter for as long as he wished, making for a lot of weird stares in the school halls.

But back to the present, his best friend didn’t seem too happy that he was so obviously keeping things from him, because Peter Parker was a horrible liar.

When your eyes met Peter’s figure resting against your locker you quickly spun around and started heading in the opposite direction, even if you had no idea where you were planning on going. Your hair whipping around was what caught Peter’s attention from his peripheral vision.

“Gotta go,” he announced to Ned, heading off the way you left with a quick jog in his step. You could hear Peter calling your name louder the closer he got, prompting you to speed up.

You cursed quietly when you came to the end of the hallway, having to decide on the spot whether to go left to a crowd of rowdy students, or right to a dead end. People must have thought you both looked crazy, even though that was the only other conclusion you could come to about yourself after you saw Peter on the rooftop.

“Y/N!” Peter yelled, grabbing your wrist in a gentle but firm grip. You stared at him wide eyed, almost like you were afraid of him, and it was a look that Peter never wanted to see again.

He quickly looked around before tugging you through an open door that led you to an empty classroom.

He closed the door behind him, leaving you standing there watching him blankly. He took a few minutes to try and prepare what he was going to say, granted something he should’ve probably done before he pulled you into a room with him.

“I want to explain the other night,” he stated, meeting your eyes for the first time that day. Your expression stayed stoic, pursing your lips.

“You want to lie your way out of admitting you’re Spiderman?” you sassed. The male was slightly taken back at your bluntness.

“Yeah, I guess,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood slightly. You didn’t look impressed at all, and he sputtered out a few apologies.

“Okay yes, I am Spiderman-“ you interrupted him with a scoff, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “Please just hear me out, y/n/n.”

You huffed, folding your arms over your chest. Peter had to admit that without your usual happy mood, you were intimidating and he never knew you were even capable of that.

“Fine, go ahead.”

He took a deep breath. “You aren’t meant to know because- it-it’s dangerous Y/N.” Your heart fluttered slightly. “I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted you all to be safe, I don’t know what I’d do if I was the reason you got hurt.”

Your features noticeably softened. He stepped closer to you, taking your hands in his and running his thumb over the back of your skin.

“You can’t tell anyone, please.” His soft eyes met yours in a pleading look.

“Who else knows?” you asked.

“Ned,” he mumbled. “And Mr Stark, but that’s it.”

You perked up slightly, and Peter noticed.

“So, Mj doesn’t know?” He shook his head, murmuring something about how it probably wouldn’t take her long to figure out though. Sensing your happiness about his words, the boy assumed you were happy that you knew something that she didn’t, and he didn’t really understand why. But that wasn’t the case, you were just glad that it meant she was safe, what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, right?

“Will you keep my secret?” he asked, staring at you with eyes that resembled those of a scared puppy. You sighed, flashing him a smile and nodding your head.

“Of course I will.” The tone of your voice suggested to Peter that you weren’t done and there was going to be some kind of condition here.

“But?” he prompted.

“But please be careful, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He grinned, pulling you into a tight hug. You tucked your head under his chin, inhaling his scent and being calmed by his presence.

Peter couldn’t wipe the smirk off of his face thinking about how you weren’t aware of his abilities, something he’d have to explain to you sometime. “You have so much to learn about me.”

»»——⍟——««

A soft tapping on your window was the last thing you expected to hear at almost midnight on a weekday. You raised your head from your pillow, squinting your eyes to try and make out what was on the other side of the glass.

You eventually had to turn on your light, startling when you noticed the shape of a person, more specifically a superhero.

You swung your legs over the side of your bed, hissing when your feet made contact with the cold floor, but you pushed that aside to go and open your window to invite Peter in.

He hastily pulled off his mask, revealing his ruffled hair and bloody face to you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, taking note of the streaks of red on the side of his face. He looked at you with tears in his eyes, stepping forward without a word to engulf you in a hug.

You were careful wrapping your arms around him, making sure you didn’t cause him anymore pain with your hand placement.

“What happened?”

He raised his head, pressing the spider symbol in the middle of his chest. His suit grew loose, making it easy for him to take off and leave on your bedroom floor.

Your eyes widened, staring at Peter’s body in shock. You knew when he explained the whole situation with the spider that he would have some muscle, but you were definitely not expecting that.

“Um,” you were more or less speechless, forgetting how to even form words while this gorgeous boy was standing in your room in nothing but underwear.

Peter obviously hadn’t thought it completely through, his eyes widening when he realised you were indeed staring at him half naked.

“Sorry, I-I-“ You shook your head, ignoring the definite blush on your cheeks as you guided him to your bathroom. You got the boy to sit down on the side of the tub, where he nervously played with his fingers.

“So, what happened?” you asked, setting your emergency first aid kit on the side. He blankly looked up to you, finally looking at you properly. Only now did he notice that you must have been trying to go to sleep.

You were in an old shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, your hair tied up in a messy ponytail without any makeup. Peter always thought you were pretty, and it seemed as though he was only now realising just how pretty you were.

“Pete?” you whispered, snapping him out of his daydream.

He apologised. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you could turn your head to the light.” He nodded, doing as you asked and bearing his wounded cheekbone to you. His fists clenched when he felt you touch the alcohol to his cheek, hearing a small apology after you heard his pained hiss.

He thought back to a couple minutes ago when you’d ask how this happened, mentally debating whether he should tell you or not. He came to the conclusion that if you were going to generously patch him up then the least he could do was tell you how he got himself in this state in the first place.

“There was some guys following this girl, trying to back her into an alley.” You paused your hand movements, looking into his soft honey eyes with a sympathetic smile. He took that as a sign to continue. “I couldn’t just let it happen, I thought about if that was you or Mj and ai just-“

Your heart almost burst with love for the boy, pressing a friendly kiss to the top of his head that had him blushing a deep scarlet in seconds.

“You did the right thing, even if you got a little hurt.”

He nodded, glad he was able to get your approval, especially after your one condition of not telling anyone was that he was as careful as he could be.

“Where else does it hurt?”

You helped clean Peter up as best as you could, the boy telling you that his quick healing should deal with the parts that you couldn’t, such as the bruised ribs.

“Let me just put a bandaid on and you’re good to go.” He rolled his eyes, trying to tell you that he didn’t need it. It was only a small cut on his bicep but you were insisting on covering it up. Peter watched as your eyes widened when you pulled the bandaids from the first aid kit.

“What is it?” he asked.

You nervously held them up, watching as his face twisted into one of amusement. He let out a loud laugh, quickly being scolded by you as you warned him that your parents were sleeping.

“Really, Y/N?” You blushed, looking down at the bandaid in your hand with a flood of embarrassment. The face of Iron Man stared back at you while Peter continued to giggle. You rolled your eyes, holding out his arm and sticking the bandaid over his cut anyway.

“I hope Mr Stark sees,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him like a child. “You’re all done.”

He thanked you quietly, heading back into your room while you tidied away the mess you’d made on the counter.

Only when you were done you headed back, planning on getting straight back into your bed as soon as Peter had left.

“Thank you for helping me.” You nodded your head, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom as you watched him slip his suit back on.

“Peter,” you whispered, catching his attention just before he left. He hummed quietly. “You know you can come here anytime you need help, right?”

You were being completely genuine, and Peter could see that in your eyes. He was incredibly grateful for you. He held out his hand to you so you’d come over, intertwining your fingers with his when you were close enough to reach.

On an instinct he dipped his head so he was able to kiss your cheek, refusing to meet your eyes as a cute blush spread across his face, the tips of his ears also tinting pink. If he’d have looked at you, you were sure he would’ve noticed he made you equally as hot and bothered, your heart racing so fast you were surprised he couldn’t hear it.

But he could, and it only made him more nervous that he’d just messed things up.

“I know.” He sent you a smile before shooting one of his webs towards a building in the close distance, slipping his mask on over his face and giving you a wave as a final farewell for the night. Thus began the routine of Spiderman showing up at your window every time he was injured and in need of a bandaid, or in some cases a little more than a bandaid.

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

peter’s girl taglist → @sunsetholland @captainamirica @tomsirishgirlx @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @gog0juice @minejungwoo @creatorofthegalaxy @annathesillyfriend @paninipress @bvttercupbby @peterswebshooters @whoeveniskendall @itsallyscorner @hoodpankow

[theseshipsshallsail]

Chapter 1

The revelry from the bookstore leaves a heady buzz of la libertà flowing through their veins, and as the crescent moon climbs higher in a pin-pricked sky, Rome’s labyrinthine streets bear witness to the loss of their remaining inhibitions. Drunken kisses give way to drunken dancing - and unfortunate drunken vomiting - but the ancient cobbles are their compass on this ferragosto evening, steering them back to the complicit safety of their hotel. 

The stale scent of sex still lingers in the room, yet tempted as they are to add to it, the prospect of their imminent separation is a sobering force. Elio’s body is heavy with exhaustion. The oppressive tightness in his chest magnified by all that he’s trying to ignore. Their time is borrowed. Soon, all of this will be naught but memory. The man beside him nothing but a ghost. Haunting his every step with visions of a life denied. A future obfuscated by what-ifs and maybes.   

He refuses to sleep, however. Refuses to sacrifice a single minute to unconsciousness in spite of the grappa’s siren call. Absurd though it is, a part of him dreads waking up alone. That Oliver will disappear like a thief in the night - taking what’s left of his shattered heart with him. His guards are down - all his pretences stripped away - but here they are, stretched out on a too-small bed, solemn fingers caressing familiar skin. Worshipping each other by words, if not by the flesh. 

And it isn’t easy. Of course it isn’t. Elio’s an individuo reservato. A trait he’s uncomfortably aware of. But he can’t let that stop him from spilling his innermost thoughts. From divulging the things he wishes he’d done differently. Or not at all. In some aspects, he’s sure he’s repeating himself, but there’s just so much he needs Oliver to hear. Things he never dared tell him previously - never deemed vital - when the end of their summer idyll was a nebulous concept.  

Like how he’d leave the adjoining door open at night, hoping beyond hope that Oliver would walk through it. Or that afternoon at the tennis courts, when he’d recoiled from his massage for fear of leaning into the frisson of excitement. Needs him to understand his visceral reaction the morning after they first slept together. The crippling anxiety that twisted his intentions, necessitating a hasty - if short-lived - retreat. Wants to beg him not to forget. To remember everything. So that when next he tastes the salt-tang of the ocean upon his lips, the sweetness of apricot juice beneath a cloudless yonder, a piece of Elio - nevermind how fleeting - will slip into that parallel life, too.

All his secrets. 

All his worries. 

All he’s put off for later. 

A futile notion, admittedly, now that there is no later. 

No more chance for postponement. 

Thankfully, he isn’t the only one speaking, and Oliver lays his own regrets out like a hand of cards whenever he stumbles into a tongue-tied silence. His forearm is slung around his waist, their legs tangled at the knees, and Elio drowns in his eyes as he recalls the steely glares that once pierced him to the core, but which he now appreciates were a means of self-defence. An attempt to stave off the unavoidable.

“Did you mean it?” he whispers, twisting Oliver’s Star of David between his fingertips as he burrows into the sticky warmth of his neck. “When you said you’d been happy here?”

“How can you even ask me that?” 

“How can I not?” Elio replies, failing to control the tremor in his voice. “You tried to keep your distance when you arrived. It was me who sought you out. If I hadn’t pushed so hard -”

“I’d have probably spent ten more days kicking myself for my cowardice,” Oliver tells him, dropping kisses to his knuckles as though they’re something to be cherished. “Wearing holes in my espadrilles… trying to hide a semi each time you passed by in those swim trunks...”

Elio snorts. “The feeling’s mutual, mon ami.”

“So we’re both idiots, then?”

“Well… one of us was being purposefully difficult...”

“Goose,” Oliver growls, and Elio giggles despite himself when he’s tickled without mercy. “I’ll show you purposefully difficult.”

It soon devolves into a childish wrestling match, Elio’s wrists pinned above him as Oliver scrabbles along his sides, leaving him bow-taut and winded. “Tutto apposto! Enough!”

“You give?”

“I give,” he says, lungs heaving in his chest. “Dio… I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Nonsense.” Oliver rolls to the side, tipping his chin up to better meet his eyes. ”This is new to us both. It’s only natural to have doubts.”

Elio huffs. “Doubt is the father of inventions.”

“And may I ask what you’re inventing?”

An awkward shrug. “Nothing,” Elio says, afraid his misgivings will lead them down a destructive path. “And everything. You know how my brain works.”

“I do, yes.” Oliver brushes a thumb over his bottom lip. “Though for my sins, I’ve yet to find cause for complaint.”

“Déviant.” 

“Takes one to know one.”

Elio nips at the tormenting digit, not quite ready to let the subject go. “I want to hear it,” he murmurs, teeth scraping the nail. “I think I need to hear it.”

“Elio…”

“Just tell me,” he insists, and sighing, Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” 

Impatience flares at the return of his evasiveness, and the remorse in Oliver’s gaze is immediate. “We never talked much about my family, did we?” he asks, and Elio shakes his head, shuffling closer as Oliver draws a shuddering breath. “My parents, they’re.... well. To describe them as traditional would be a kindness,” he continues. “Our relationship has been strained for years, but they have certain... expectations, I suppose. For my future, specifically. You know how it is.”

“Do I?” Elio asks, stiffening as I'm sure I'll pay for it somehow echoed from the not so distant past. 

The implication is clear, and maybe there are razor blades in his expression, because Oliver’s own turns instantly apologetic. “I guess not,” he says, sliding a conciliatory hand to his hip. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

Elio frowns. “In what way?”

“With your folks,” Oliver explains. “My father would cart me off to a correctional facility.” A beat. “He still might.” 

“Only if he finds out,” his traitorous mouth blurts before his alleged genius can catch up, and Elio’s heart sinks. “But he won’t, will he?”

It’s less a question, more a statement, and Oliver’s jaw clenches as he stares at him in silent concession. “I wish things could be different.”

“I know,” Elio says, the words braver than the sentiment behind them. “Me too.”  

But the universe isn’t that lenient. Like Icarus, they’ve flown too near to the sun, and the consequences of such defiance will see their wings clipped once they crash back down to earth. He’d cautioned himself on the journey south to prepare for the blow. Peered out the grimy window of the direttissimo, knowing that when he next stands on the platform he’ll be alone. That he’ll hate it. Those rehearsals, it seems, have done little to dull the pain of what’s to come, and latent superstition has left him fumbling in the dark, regardless.

“E’ la vita,” Elio says, resorting to self-preservation as he dredges up a smile - the over-bright, false one he’s perfected through years of dinner drudgery. “Why risk it all for a bit of fun, right?”

“Don’t do that.” Apparently Elio’s not the only one who can see through a facade. “You mean more to me than some fling, and you know it.”

“But -” 

“No. Hear me out.” Earnest, Oliver smooths the hair from Elio’s temple. “These past six weeks… I don’t know how to describe how important they were to me. The freedom. The acceptance.” His throat bobs in the grey strokes of dawn. “You.”

“Me?” 

“Us.” Oliver fidgets with a loose thread on Elio’s shirt. “I meant it,” he mutters at last, winding an errant curl around the index finger of his other hand. “I have been happy here. I’ve been happy with you.” He hesitates. A quick flash of indecision. “I’m not sure I was ever really happy before you.” 

“Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Per carità! That only makes it worse,” Elio says, whirling away to hide in Oliver’s collar. The sour musk of sweat is soaked into the material, and he inhales deeply, hoarding every piece of him while he still can. “You are the very best parts of me,” he confesses, lifting his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do when -”

“Hey…” Oliver’s grip tightens. “Didn’t we go over this? You’ll be -”

“Fine. You said.”

“Clearly it bears repeating.” 

Elio touches his face. Watches the ripples of emotion spread out like a pebble cast into the lake. “And you?” he returns, recollecting that night on the rock. His naivety in presuming Oliver’s ghost wouldn’t always be staring out at the horizon. Rodin’s Thinker clad in billowy cotton. “You’ll be okay?”

A breath. “I’ll be okay.”

Elio’s not sure which of them he’s trying to convince, so he kisses him gently in lieu of examining it further, his stomach flipping when Oliver pulls back with an air of exquisite softness. “What time do we need to be at the airport?” he asks, seeking sanctuary in distraction. “You have your passport, sì?”

“I do,” Oliver says, studying him carefully. “The plane leaves at noon. But don’t feel you have to -” He stops. Swallows. Tries again. “You don’t have to see me off. Not if you don’t want -”

“I want.”

“Elio -”

“Non essere ridicolo. I’m coming,” he tells him, fighting a shiver as the cool breeze from the window brings goosebumps to his skin. “Of course I’m coming.” 

The relentless tick of the clock rings loud in the sudden silence, and Elio raises up on his elbow, only for Oliver to cup his cheek before he can turn towards the wall. 

“Don’t look,” he whispers, sounding choked as he double checks the time on his watch. “It’s ten minutes fast at any rate.”

“Ten minutes?” Elio laughs. Slightly unhinged. “What difference does that make? Ten? Twenty? You still have to leave.”

He detests the unspoken word that hovers between them. The entire phrase a sullen admission of weakness: you still have to leave me.

“Don’t think of it like that,” Oliver murmurs, one hand stroking the base of his spine. ”We have a few hours yet.” 

Elio sniffs. “Not like they’ll matter tomorrow.”

“Maybe not. But they matter right now.” Oliver nudges their foreheads together. “Every second, Elio.” 

“Every second, Elio,” he echoes numbly, if only to call him by his name one last time.

He’s shaking, he realises, though in all honesty he doesn’t care that his vulnerabilities are on display. That Oliver can see how lost in him he really is. That the situation is gutting him, and he’s unable to stop the bleeding. His chest feels concave. The space below his ribs too small to contain the sheer need and protectiveness that washes through him. He wants to shelter Oliver from the storm that lies ahead. To house him beneath his breast where the burdens of this world cannot touch him. Encapsulate everything Oliver is within the confines of himself, meagre as those confines might be.

But what can he do? Implore him to stay? Ask him to give up his doctorate? His career? His responsibilities? And for what? A life in the shadows? Always looking over their shoulders. Always that sense of shame.

He thinks of the pink and yellow lilies that bloom in the giardino back in B. The delicate petals that unfurl for such a brief period of time. There’s something recherché, he knows, in such transitory beauty, yet Elio’s never lacked for stubbornness. Oliver may believe his story is already written - that their destiny is forged in stone - but no one’s ever survived a freefall by continuing to spiral. 

For something so tragically temporary, their bond has left a permanent mark. And Elio? He wants to beat his fists against this odious ending until they’re bloodied and raw.

[rhenuvee]

PDA pt2 (Fred Weasley x reader)

A/N: No story line, just moments :P

Warnings: The gif... + it’s in the title, George having enough of your bs again, mention of the booty, suggestive moments

Link to pt 1: PDA pt1 (Yeah so there’s 500+ freakin notes on it holy crap)

Yeah so I just kinda wrote this during my English class...

--------------------------------------------

You always enjoyed the free days you got from work. You usually helped out in the shop when you weren’t working your regular job. Fred insisted you relax in the flat, but you wanted to spend more time with him, which meant working. 

You didn’t mind it really. His shop was full of excitement, you’d take it over a boring office job any day. 

“Love! Where’d you go?” called his voice from the top floor. You were sitting on the counter on the bottom floor already ready, and taking a sip of your tea. Your ears perked as you watched your boyfriend fiddling with his tie. As soon as he spotted you, a toothy grin came upon his face but quickly disappeared once he saw you on the counter.

“(Y/n)...” he sighed quickly trotting down the stairs while fixing his tie up and heading towards you. You hopped off the counter and leaned your back on it, knowing he was going to say the same thing again.

“Why don’t you go back up and rest?” he asked rather quietly while stroking your cheek. You put down your teacup.

“Freddie, you don’t need to worry about me, I’m wide awake.” You were hoping your cheerful voice would convince him- you were telling the truth after all. He sighed again, crossing his arms.

“I don’t want you to work on your free day.” 

“And I’m not. I just want to spend more time with you.” 

Yours and Fred’s relationship consisted of lots and lots of affection- George was unfortunately a witness to it. You loved the cuddling after a long day after work, the tight hugs once you came home, the silly kisses when Fred was hyper... Maybe it was just missing him after your hours apart during work, or purely being so proud of what he accomplished. 

“Addiction? That’s not very good, love.” he teased, smirking. You gave his arm a light push and shook your head. A tease he was. “And I offered you to join me in the shower, but you said no.”

“Because every time you ask me and I say yes, your hand is on my butt before I even step foot into the shower.” He laughs at this, which you push him a little harder for. You pause and turn your head to the front of the shop, where the ‘No PDA’ sign sat in all it’s cardboard glory. 

“Are we being too much? I don’t like being annoying to George.” you said biting your lip.

“Hm? Don’t worry about George, he’s just being crabby. And I thought you liked breaking the rules.” The shit-eating grin on his face made your face hot. He pinned you against the counter, hand brushing your waist.

“Well, I don’t, until you rubbed off me.” You poked his chest playfully.

“Did I?” He asked teasingly and getting closer to you. Before you could answer, the door flung open and a few customers entered. 

You quickly pried yourself off your boyfriend and fixed your shirt which was ruffled by the counter. You glared at him and scrunched your nose. He in turn winked and stuck out his tongue at you. Fred chuckled at how frantic you looked, compared to the customers who were too late to notice the PDA that was about to happen. 

---

There weren’t any problems with customers, and the day seemed to be passing slowly. It wasn’t until there were only a couple of people in the shop at the moment, and your boyfriend decided to walk towards you. He wrapped his built arms around your waist, and his chin rested atop your head. You were a bit surprised, but smiled when you felt the familiarity of his touch.

“Fred, you almost scared me.” You said putting one hand atop his, and the other pushing the skiving snackboxes to look nice. He didn’t say anything.

“What is it Freddie?”

“Nothing...” he mumbled. “Just- you gotta stop being so bloody cute.” He took your free hand and rubbed it with his thumb. His head was in the clouds lately, you noticed. You remembered that was the same hand you had the scars from the blood quill. Your heart swelled at how sweet he was being.

“There are people still here.” you whispered. “Merlin, no wonder George can’t stand you.” you scoffed. He unwrapped his arms around you to turn you to face him.

“But that’s because we broke the no PDA rule...” You noticed that he mumbled the last bit, trailing off a little. You were left speechless as his hand was brought up- his index finger to tilt your chin up and his thumb to trace your bottom lip. You never realized when he got so close to you, but you did now as he leaned in and-

“Excuse me, Mr. Weasley!” You quickly coughed and pulled away. A small kid about eight years old tapped Fred. The little boy cocked his head in confusion as he saw both of you in an- *cough* interesting pose. Your boyfriend, quick and clever as ever, pretended and made an excuse.

“Hello, sorry I was fixing her... apron!” He said quickly bringing a hand to your back and fiddling with the tied string. You rolled your eyes, the boy giggled at how silly Fred’s tone was. 

“You know how clumsy she gets- now what did you need help with?” You glared at him as he was whisked away by the kid, but also noticing that your apron strings were now undone. You shook your head at how much of a troublemaker Fred was.

---

As soon as Fred was done recommending a product to the boy, he walked over to where you were standing with your arms crossed. You were lucky that the last few customers had already exited before this. Surprising as well, since it was just before your lunch break.

“Yes?” He asked. You stayed put in your crossed arm form.

“’Yes?’ You call your girlfriend clumsy and you say ‘yes’?” 

“Well, you didn’t let me finish, darling.” Fred leaned against the shelf slightly and threaded one of this hands through your loose hair. “She’s a little clumsy, yes- but she’s also smart, funny, kind, drop dead gorgeous...” He placed a kiss somewhere on your face for each thing he listed. You blushed at his words and placed your hands on his forearms. 

“And sometimes she looks like a pygmy puff early in the mornings, but- hey! Ow!” 

“Well then I think you’re just a right prat.” He gasped dramatically at your statement which made you laugh. 

“That hurts...” he said softly with a pout trying to sound in pain. “Care to make it up to me?” And just like that, his cheeky nature returned. He asked the question while tapping his lips with his index finger- you knew what he was implying. 

“You, Fred Weasley are too much for me.” You sighed bringing him in for the kiss he was wanting all this time. He happily leaned in as well, connecting your lips together and moving in sync. 

You couldn’t even focus, let alone control where those hands of his were touching you; one on the nape of your neck, and the other on your waist. He purposely backed you up a little against the shelf, careful not to knock any of the products over. It caused him to push his lips more, and soon slipped his tongue in your mouth.

“Fred. (Y/n).” called George quietly from just outside his room. You heard him, but Fred didn’t seem to.

“Fred...-” you said in between breaths, hardly able to say his name. You tapped him on the shoulder to signal him to pull away. He groaned as he listened, not wanting to stop.

“To be fair she was staring at my arse, first.”

“Fred!”

“Ew... fix your clothes wouldn’t you, children.” said George putting the jacket he was holding in front of him to cover the view of you. 

“George, where have you been, mate? Haven’t seen you much this morning.” inquired Fred. He was right now that he mentioned it. You only saw George a bit this morning, but he often seemed like he was rushing.

“I have a date.” He said. You and Fred’s eyebrows raised. You were all living with each other yet he gets a date out of the blue?! 

“Georgie, that’s great! Who’s your date?” you said happily before your boyfriend could spit out something offensive.

“I have a date with Angelina.” He said pursing his lips and nodding his head. His behaviour was oddly monotone despite having a date. You squealed in excitement for your two best friends who have finally got the courage to make something happen.

“Oh bloody hell, I have a date with Angelina... what am I going to do, what do I say?” Turns out George was just a little nervous. You and Fred both giggled. You bid George goodbye as he walked out the shop door. You were happy for him, and Angelina- you noticed the shy smile on his face as he walked out. You knew it was going to go well for them.

Just as a short moment of silence came over, Fred suddenly had a thought in mind.

“Wait, does this mean that ‘No PDA’ sign is no more?” He asked with a large grin upon his face. Oh god, you knew how this conversation was going to end.

“We don’t know if George’s date is going to go well.” You said shrugging. You knew it would, but you were trying to counter him. Fred’s eyebrows raised as if to say, ‘really?’ 

“Well...” he started with a smirk appearing and his hands reaching to your hips again. “Why don’t we find out? Test out its limits?” 

You shook your head, both at how sneaky he was being, and to also try to mask the red on your face. 

“Frederic Gideon Weasley...” you said in a tone attempting to be demanding. You watched as he bit his lip, clearly knowing what you were going to say. Why did your boyfriend have to be so attractive? You were also leaning into his touch, and that’s how he knew he had you.

“You are way too much trouble.” you said pointing a finger to him.

“Was that a yes?” he asked cheekily. He knew you were trying to avoid his question.

“It wasn’t a no.” you said trying to supress the smile on your face as you were whisked away to your bedroom by your loving boyfriend.

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