#larissa writes

[crosshairlovebot]

bewitching mr. batchbury (part two) / crosshair x f!reader

pairing: crosshair x f!reader

description: after your encounter in the greenhouse, the distance between you and mr. batchbury remains...until a little bravery finally reveals everything - and i mean everything.

REGENCY AU

word count: 10,887 (pHEW!)

warnings: NSFW 18+ explicit sexual content. loss of vriginity (f). p in v s*x. oral s*x (f receiving). lots of kissing everywhere. handj*bs. f*ngering. gr*nding. unprotected s*x.

the long awaited part two of regency crosshair is here! thank you so much for your support on part one!! i got v carried away but i enjoyed writing this sm, so i hope you enjoy reading it <3

also posted on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

PART TWO

Since the night of the Across the Stars ball; the night where Cross—Mr. Carlisle Batchbury had seared his lips into your skin and irrevocably changed everything between you, you had not known a single moment of peace. You had returned home early that night, giving your apologies to the other Batchbury’s as you feigned a headache, and confined yourself to your room for the remainder of the night and the entirety of the next day.

You couldn’t face him again.

You’d heard the Batchbury’s return home from the ball, the noise of the carriage and their chatter travel up to your open window as they alighted. You strained to hear Mr. Batchbury’s voice but were not surprised he remained silent. You tossed and turned all night, the feel of his lips still ghosting over your skin, the way he held you against the hard panes of his torso still heavy on your body.

You had pulled the blanket up under your chin and squeezed your eyes shut, tears pricking them, mourning the fact that your guard had lowered so spectacularly that you had taken liberties where you shouldn’t of – given into the fantasy of being desired by Mr. Batchbury and being held gently after enduring his scathing words.

How could you go on? Knowing your feelings were known by him, and he could throw them back at your face without warning?

But you’d worried unnecessarily. You’d eventually come down from your hiding, entering the drawing room to see the entire Batchbury clan present, including Mr. Batchbury, who sat at the writing table as he always did, his back to you. The sight of his grey hair making your heart leap. Meg exclaimed your name and ran over to you, embracing you warmly.

“I’m so happy you’re feeling better,” she’d said into your shoulder, squeezing you. You saw Mr. Batchbury shoulders stiffen upon hearing your name.

You watched as he slammed his notebook closed, standing up. You took in his tall stature and fire eyes encased in a scowl – somehow looking handsomer since your last encounter in his casual attire of breeches and boots, white shirt and waistcoat.

Life truly was never fair.

You swallowed as his long strides crossed the room towards you. You thought he was going to stop, maybe say something to you. But he didn’t. He only brushed your shoulder and swiftly exited the room without so much as a word or glance your way.

You pressed your lips together as you blinked the prickle of tears away. The hurt form his retreat only confirmed that your decision to pull away had been the right one. That kiss really had never been more than a cruel joke for him.

Ignoring the pang in your chest, you pulled your focus to Meg, asking her if she enjoyed her first ball. She furrowed her brow, eyes flicking between you and her departing brother with concern before she launched into her retelling.

From that moment on, Mr. Batchbury’s fiery hostility had become iced avoidance, immediately vacating rooms when you entered them, the glare creased between his brows evermore present, if not deepened. You wondered why he was acting like that, when you were the one who had been hurt by his actions. He was the one who flipped between the acidic tongue and the one that caressed your collarbones, only to return to treating you with contempt, not you.

It angered you.

He’d held you so gently, words spoken so softly, and kissed you with such passion…you couldn’t stop thinking about it no matter how hard you tried. You dreamed about it, his hands moving all over you as they followed his lips, the contrast between his wooden one and the smooth skin of his palm alighting your insides. You’d wake up flustered and embarrassed, angry as wet pooled between your legs.

But you expected this behaviour from him – you always knew after he kissed you, he would return to his caustic demeanour, the gentleness he had exhibited only a brief game of pretend.

But it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

His family seemed to notice something had shifted between you, but did not pry. Meg would look between you both with a frown, trying to decipher it all, but you always redirected any of her curious glances into her studies. She would huff and let you, but you could tell not asking you about it was making her all fidgety as the need to know only grew as the weeks went on.

Hunter watched you with a working gaze, seeming to read your feelings of angst as plainly as words in a book, but he never mentioned anything to you directly. Wrecker paid no mind to any tension and if he did, always tried to dissipate it with a joke or diverting tale. And Tech was far too caught up in his encyclopedias to even consider questioning you, on the verge of a breakthrough in his research paper.

You were grateful for their silence.

But you could not escape Mr. Batchbury no matter how hard to tried to avoid him, and he, you.

You entered the library one afternoon, and upon finding it empty, breathed a sigh of relief. Mr. Batchbury perpetually hid in here, away from everyone. But you’d wanted to swap out your book for another for days. You made your way over to the shelves on the far side of the oak-panelled room to return your book when you passed the writing desk. You paused beside it when you saw the pages of a notebook splayed open, ink drying.

You lifted the side gently to see the familiar red bound leather.

Mr. Batchbury’s notebook.

You peered over the pages, and felt your lips itch to smile at his neat, practised script, knowing he’d taught himself to write with his non-dominant hand. You let your smile drop, not allowing yourself to be caught up in him again as you read the first line.

With cheeks flushed in anger, I only grew fonder.

“What are you doing?”

The voice was all too familiar, hissed with such venom you startled and turned towards the door of the library. You watched as Mr. Batchbury stalked towards you, eyes ablaze with a fury you’d never seen him behold.

“Nothing,” you supplied, though it was obvious you had been reading his writing.

He slammed a hand over the pages and roughly closed his book. “That is private.”

“I’m sorry,” you said with sincerity, though his prose echoed in your brain. With cheeks flushed in anger, I only grew fonder. What was he…?

“Are you?” Mr. Batchbury spat at you, and you immediately stood taller, the beginning of repartee between you easily recognisable.

It was almost a relief, to have the familiar rhythm and emotion of conversation directed towards you instead of the cold glowering and hiding away from each other. A welcome reprieve from the frosty front he’d been presenting you since the greenhouse. His eyes bored into yours and his tall frame towered over you. To have him look directly at you with his coffee-coloured eyes, instead of not meeting your gaze, made your heart race and your stomach swoop with butterflies.

You stepped towards him, eyes narrowed as the words hardened your jaw. “Am I what?”

“Sorry,” he gritted out through his teeth and your breath hitched.

Silence befell you both and the unspoken hung between you heavily. Anger flared through you. What were you supposed to be sorry for? What did he want you to be sorry for? He was the one who should apologise for how he treated you and continued to. For how he let you believe for a moment he didn’t hate you.

I never once hated you, he had said between kisses, the words a caress on your hot skin as you lost yourself in his touch, in his tenderness.

And yet here he was, berating you for daring to look over his notebook.

You narrowed your eyes and took a step back. “I told you I was done playing this game.”

“Then answer the question.”

You scoffed. “Like you answer all of mine.”

He continued to look at you, port wine-stained eyes searching your face silently. Your own eyes travelled over his face and landed on lips you knew were soft and coaxing and heavenly. You shook your head. Your feelings for him were still so strong, and despite everything, you longed to be kissed by him again; to be held; to receive his gentle words.

Why was he like this? Why was he like this when he knew how you thought of him?

Why was he like this when he didn’t have to be? When he’d showed you otherwise?

“What do you want from me?” you whispered, and Mr. Batchbury’s eyes widened at your words.

His lips pressed together and you watched his usual stoic face cycle through several emotions you could not place, minuscule changes in the lines around his eyes and mouth the only clue of it happening.

“Crosshair, have you seen—oh. My apologies”

Both of you looked to the door of the library to see Tech standing there with a large stack of encyclopedias in his arms. Mr. Batchbury immediately left your side and went over to his brother, taking the books from him carefully and holding onto them.

“You shouldn’t be carrying these by yourself. Where’s your cane?” His voice was the most normal you’d heard in weeks, with a gentle kind of reprimand that made you flinch in surprise at how quickly his tone changed.

“I can manage,” Tech said, walking with a pronounced limp, but it did not seem to hinder him. “Have you seen the book on Entomology in the Outer Rim Territories? I require it for a reference in my Oxford submission.”

“I believe Wrecker is currently using it as a doorstop,” you supplied, watching as both pairs of eyes moved towards you. Tech nodded happily as Mr. Batchbury flicked his gaze away from you.

“Thank you, I’ll head to his chambers once I return these to their shelves,” Tech tried to grab them from his brother, who only angled them away from him.

“I’ll take care of that. Go and find your cane before you hurt yourself,” Mr. Batchbury ordered gently, and you felt your entire chest simultaneously expand and crumble.

“Very well. Thank you, Crosshair,” Tech smiled at his brother, pushing his wired glasses up his nose before bidding you farewell and exiting the room.

You heard Tech’s uneven footsteps grow quieter as he continued down the hall, leaving both of you alone again. You took in the sight of Mr. Batchbury with the encyclopedias in his arms. He cared so much, loved so much – this was the Mr. Batchbury you had fallen for, the one you continued to yearn for. The one who was attentive to those he loved, who was gentle and shouldered burdens. He was still there.

Just not for you.

You suddenly felt overcome with the urge to cry and you knew you had to get out of the library as soon as possible. You didn’t want to cry in front of him.

“I’ll just, uh—” you stumbled over your words, throat thick with emotion as you felt yourself begin to flush, eyes filling with tears. You ducked your head and quickly walked in the direction of the door. You heard Mr. Batchbury say your name as you passed his shoulder, and you turned hastily.

“I’m sorry, sir. But for what it’s worth, your writing is beautiful,” you told him, a stray tear falling which you hurriedly wiped away as you resumed your path out of the room. You heard you name once more but you dared not turn around again as you left the library, your book still in your hand.

Later that week, you sat at your dressing table readying yourself for bed when you heard a rustle, and something slide on the wooden floor. You turned around and frowned at a folded piece of parchment on the floor near your door. You pushed your chair back and walked carefully over to the paper. You toed it with your slipper before crouching to pick it up. The red wax seal was imprinted with the Batchbury crest and your frown deepened. What could it be?

You flipped it over, seeing your name in neat, practiced cursive on the front. Your eyes widened. Was that…?

You hastily unstuck the seal as carefully as you could, unfolding the page and turning it right side up, your chest heaving and heart pounding as you read the words.

With cheeks flushed in anger, I only grew fonder

Of the way she tarried with me

For she was the only one who dared say

The truth of her heart

And yet the pain of knowing

Of how she despised me was

A truth I could not change

No matter of the truth

Of my own

You read the words over and over again. Eyes tracing every curve of the letters, every indentation of the quill; of where it’s scratched against the grain of the paper. You felt your heartbeat increase, heat flooding your body as Mr. Batchbury’s prose settled in your mind. You ran a finger up the left side of the paper, which showed that he’d carefully torn the page from his notebook – torn straight from his notebook and given to you.

No matter the truth of my own.

You felt like you were going to collapse so you moved to the bed and sat down.

You smoothed the paper over your knees. You didn’t know what to make of it. All you knew was that Mr. Batchbury had given you a piece of his precious notebook, a piece of the inner workings of his mind. He wrote poetry – poetry that was about you. You thought back to all the times you’d tried to read over his shoulder, and how secretive and defensive he’d gotten about it. You thought back to the time when you found him in the windowsill, all those weeks ago, how even then he’d scurried away when questioned about it.

You felt your chest tighten.

I have never once hated you.

You covered your mouth with your hand and clutched the poem to your chest.

Now, in the Kenobi’s ballroom, a week since the poem had slid under your door, and several since the greenhouse, you watched Mr. Batchbury. His coffee eyes met yours and stayed there, unmoving. You took another sip of your champagne, your nerves rising and he mirrored your movements with his glass of brandy. You watched his lips on the glass, the way the corners carefully inched upwards as he looked at you. You quickly looked away and felt your entire body flush.

Something had indeed shifted since the poem have been delivered to your room. Mr. Batchbury no longer avoided you; vacating rooms upon your entrance ceased, and instead he seemed to gravitate closer to you, gaze locking on your every movement. You would catch his eye and watch the way they seemed to gleam with something. Anticipation, perhaps? Knowing? There was an air in his gaze you hadn’t seen before. It only made him look more handsome – devilishly so.

A cotillion filled the ballroom, and you tore your gaze away from Mr. Batchbury to watch Meg dance with Hunter. Hunter looked at his sister with so much love and pride, you couldn’t help but smile at them.

It was the final ball of the season, and all the Batchbury’s were in attendance tonight. Wrecker had somehow managed to worm his way into a conversation with Prince Skywalker and Queen Amidala, much to the chagrin of the snobbier members of the ton, but the Prince and Queen were in rapture. Wrecker’s charm was infectious, and they were not immune. Tech had wandered off to the Kenobi’s library, escorted by a Viscount by the name of Codius, or Cody, who will be one of his peers at Oxford next semester.

That left you alone in the ballroom, making eyes with Mr. Batchbury.

You smiled into your glass. There were certainly worse ways to spend an evening.

You had not yet had the courage to approach him about the poem, all your nerve flying out the window and joining the birds migrating south for the winter whenever you even as much as thought about it.

His poem had been so…honest. And you could not imagine how much courage it would’ve taken for him to slide it under the crack in your door.

So why could you not find your own?

The dance came to an end, and you clapped lightly as best you could with one occupied hand. You watched Meg and Hunter embrace and smiled again. You didn’t know what would happen when the season ended; whether you would return to your parents in the country or remain with the Batchburys as Meg’s companion. You hoped it was the latter, for reasons not only pertaining to your fondness of the young blonde woman who’d you’ve come to think of as a little sister; even if you trembled when you so much as felt her grey-haired brother’s eyes on you.

In the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar frame glide next to you and your entire body went on high alert, nerves preening and chest tightening. You slid a glance to your right as Mr. Batchbury had yet to announce himself. He looked handsome tonight, as he always did, in black trousers, boots and tailcoat with a deep red patterned satin waistcoat. With his white shirt, he wore a cravat similarly coloured to his waistcoat, but a little darker, closer to that of his port wine stain.

 You were blameless in the failed quest to find the courage to speak to him when he stood looking like that.

It was then he cleared his throat. “Would you care to dance?”

You snapped your head towards him, meeting his gaze with a shocked blink. “Dance?”

The corner of Mr. Batchbury’s mouth lifted slightly. “Yes. A dance.”

Was he really asking you? After last time? After all that’s passed between you? “With me?”

Mr. Batchbury averted his gaze, and you felt him begin to retreat. “Unless you do not want to.”

“No!” you said a little too quickly and a little too loudly. You closed your eyes and let out a breath in embarrassment, cheeks heating. You opened them again to see a lightness in Mr. Batchbury’s eyes. “I-I mean, I do want to.”

Mr. Batchbury gently took the glass from your hand and placed it on the tray of a server nearby before taking your hand. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you flexed your gloved fingers in his warm hand as he led you out onto the floor. His thumb ran across your knuckles gently before he let go, finding a place for you both and positioning yourselves opposite each other.

You studied his face. The furrow in his brow was there, but not nearly as strong as it had been these past few weeks. The lines of his angled face seemed…softer too, eyes not so hard and discerning.

You willed yourself to say something, and you took in a breath just as the music swelled. Both of you bowed and curtseyed before joining hands and turning once, switching sides. You held hands again and skipped one way, turning once more before skipping back. Mr. Batchbury was as fine a dancer as he was that very first time. And every time he held your hand, flesh or otherwise, you felt your whole body ignite with his touch. He was so tender in the way he held it, and you could not stop yourself from meeting his eyes. His discerning eyes stayed on yours and yours on his. You nearly missed the next step in the dance because you were too caught up in his gaze.

When you returned to the partnered portion of the dance, you knew this was your chance to say something; to bring up the poem. If you did it while you were dancing, there was less of a chance you’d lose your nerve. There was something else to occupy you, not just the mention of his gesture that still made your stomach somersault.

“Thank you,” you rushed out as you joined hands again, chests moving towards each other. You had to look up at him, heart pounding. “For the poem.”

Mr. Batchbury’s eyes widened a little, but he said nothing. You continued. “It was beautiful.”

Your bodies turned and you joined hands with the others, galloping in a circle once more. Mr. Batchbury’s hand was firm on yours and after a turn, you faced each other again.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.

When you stepped together and then turned to switch sides, your foot got caught on the hem of your gown and you stumbled, gasping as you fell forward, gasping. Mr. Batchbury caught you before you went down, arms encircling your waist and pulling you towards him. You grabbed the sleeve of his coat and you both stood there for a moment, holding each other. Your faces were so close, noses almost touching. You could see the rough texture of his stubble and felt his hard torso press into yours, his body strong and solid against yours. You looked into his eyes, seeing every fiber of his irises and the dark lashes that eclipsed them when he blinked. His breath fanned your skin and if you leaned up just a little, your lips would touch. You longed to feel his lips on yours again, their soft caresses as they coaxed you closer to him. His words repeated in your mind.

No matter the truth of my own.

I have never once hated you.

The music came to a close and there was a smattering of applause, the sound bringing you back to the room and out from Mr. Batchbury’s captivating eyes. You found your footing, standing up properly and yet, neither of you let go of each other. You looked at your gloved hands on the sleeves of his coat and absently moved your thumbs against his upper arms. Mr. Batchbury’s hands on your waist remained there, never mind how improper it was. You didn’t care. You hoped they stayed there. To be this close to him again…well, it was wonderful.

“You…good?” Mr. Batchbury murmured lowly, his flesh hand flexing against the taffeta of your gown. Everyone had begun to move off the floor, but both of you did not move. You could only nod, your entire being completely encompassed with the feeling of being so close to Mr. Batchbury. You met his eyes and saw the way the crease in brow showed concern for you, not anger or contempt. You felt your chest expand and bloom with warmth for what you suspected, hoped, was the truth of his heart.

“Was your poem true?” The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them.

Mr. Batchbury’s eyes searched yours. “Which part?”

“No matter the truth of my own,” you recited back to him in a breath. You watched his expression soften, the lines around and between his eyes uncreased as his mouth slackened. You blinked up at him as he pressed his lips together.

“You memorised it?” you heard him murmur, like any more volume in your voices would shatter the bubble you’d both created. You nodded again. Mr. Batchbury’s breath hitched as his hold on you tightened. You watched his throat work as he swallowed before returning your gaze to his face. Did he just grow more beautiful?

As Mr. Batchbury nodded in response to your question, you felt your heart swell.

You had hoped and hoped, never did you truly believe.

“Mr. Batchbury…” you breathed, your eyes softening as you looked up at his stupidly handsome face. “You must know, I do not despise you and I never have.”

Mr. Batchbury’s eyes widened when you heard the clinking of a glass echo in the ballroom. Both you and Mr. Batchbury startled, turning towards the sound to see Duke Kenobi at the helm of the crowd, his glass in the air. You let each other go, suddenly remembering where you were and the amount of people watching on with interest. Your face flamed as you clasped your hands together. Mr. Batchbury sighed next to you, seemingly exasperated at the interruption.

“Dearest guests,” Duke Kenobi’s voice boomed through the room. “As we close another wonderful social season, I want to extend my deepest gratitude to you all for attending tonight…”

He continued on, but all you could focus on was Mr. Batchbury next to you and his response. His poem had been true; he had indeed grown fond of you, evident through not only his words, but his kisses and murmurings in the greenhouse all those weeks ago. But then why did he choose act so beastly towards you in those other moments?

Applause rippled through the ballroom, and you shook yourself out of the reverie and joined in. You looked up at Mr. Batchbury, whose pensive expression drew your breath in. What was he thinking about?

“Mr. Batchbury—” you began.

“Hey! Crosshair! Did you know Prince Skywalker’s friend, Prince Rex, is from our county?” Wrecker came bounding over, a sparkle of wonder in his eye. “He was adopted out from there and taken to the Kingdom of Kamino when he was a boy,” he continued.

“Fascinating,” Mr. Batchbury drawled dryly. You stifled a laugh. You couldn’t be mad at Wrecker, even if he had caused a second interruption to your much needed conversation.

“I know,” Wrecker bumped his shoulder against his brothers. Mr. Batchbury sneered at him, though Wrecker was unperturbed. “Anyway,” Wrecker said addressing both of you. “Hunter said it’s time to go. Meg’s getting tired.”

“Are you sure Hunter’s not saying that as an excuse to leave?” Mr. Batchbury snided.

Wrecker laughed. “Maybe. But I think we’ve all had enough of the season for this year, even Meg.”

You smiled. “Then let’s not keep them waiting.”

Wrecker nodded and continued to recount his conversation with Prince Skywalker as he led you and Mr. Batchbury out of the ballroom to meet with the rest of the family in the foyer.

Once you’d all bundled into the carriage, you were nestled between Tech and Crosshair, with Wrecker, Omega and Hunter on the seat opposite. Tech rambled on about the books he had discussed with Viscount Cody, while Wrecker argued his conversation with Princes Skywalker and Rex was far more interesting than some heavy book. Meg was dozing on Hunter’s shoulder, who kissed the top of her head, telling his brothers to lower their voices.

As the brothers chattered on, you stayed quiet, wringing your hands in your lap. Mr. Batchbury’s left thigh was pressed against yours, and all you could think about was the warm leanness of his trousered leg, and of his closed fist that sat atop his thigh. You eyed where the taffeta of your gown brushed the cotton of his trousers. You trailed your gaze upon that seam before landing on his hand. That hand had sat comfortably in the curve of your waist, fingers splayed and palm flat. It would be so easy to reach out to him now, curl his fingers around yours. You’d been brave tonight, but you could never be that brave, especially with his family so close. You were tracing his knuckles with your eyes when you felt Mr. Batchbury press his thigh firmer against yours, sending heat and goosebumps flooding your body. Your eyes snapped to him and saw him looking out the window, the ghost of a smile tracing the edges of his lips.

He'd done it intentionally. Butterflies erupted.

You smiled to yourself.

Meg’s dozing resulted in her completely falling asleep as the carriage rocked gently against the cobbled streets, so Hunter carried her up to her chambers like he would’ve done when she was a little girl, making you smile. You bid him and his brothers goodnight before retreating to your chamber, face heating and smile fighting against your mouth.

You climbed the stairs and travelled to the very end of the corridor. Yours was the only bedroom on this floor, which had been a little isolating at first, but had proved to be a good thing when you were told Wrecker’s snores could be heard from inside all of the Batchbury’s bed chambers. You closed the door behind you, smiling as you removed your gloves, pulling them down your forearms and placing them over the back of the dressing table’s chair. Glad you’d asked your lady’s maid not to wait up for you, you sat down and spied your reflection in the looking glass. You pressed your fingers to your hot cheeks and laughed to yourself.

Something had definitely altered between you and Mr. Batchbury. His poem wasn’t just empty words but portrayed his thoughts and feelings towards you. But you needed to talk more. He may have some kind of feelings towards you, if his poem and moments in the greenhouse was anything to go by, but you needed answers on why he acted one way and then switched his countenance. There had to be a reason. Because Mr. Batchbury wasn’t a bad person; he was filled with so much good and never did something without cause.

You had pulled the last pin from your hair when you heard a soft knock on your door. You frowned before standing up and crossing the room to open it. You gasped upon the reveal of who was behind the heavy oak.

“Mr. Batchbury,” you breathed. He stood tall, and he had removed his tailcoat and cravat but was still adorned in everything else. His white shirt sleeves a stark but beautiful juxtaposition against the red of his waistcoat and the lack of cravat opened the collar of his shirt, so the neckline gave a scandalous peak into the solid of his chest. He was breathtaking.

He said your name before asking, “May I come in?”

It was improper for an unattached man to be in the bedchambers of an unattached woman. But at this moment, looking at him in all his glorious handsomeness, knowing that you’ve tasted his lips, you couldn’t seem to care.

You stepped aside so Mr. Batchbury could enter, and you softly closed the door behind him. He looked around your bedchambers and you watched his face soften as he saw the parchment with his poem splayed open on the end table by your bed.

“We need to talk,” Mr. Batchbury said, his voice quiet and calm.

“Yes,” you agreed. “We do.”

There was a silence as he looked at you, his port wine eyes searching your face before he took in a deep breath.

“I…have never been good at…this,” Mr. Batchbury spoke, his voice thick like he was nervous.

“I learnt from a young age that being vulnerable got you hurt,” he continued, and your face softened.

You did not know much about the life of the Batchbury’s before they came into their wealth, but you knew it was filled with hardship, destitution and ridicule. Meg had given you a few anecdotes from their previous situation, of one good meal a day shared between five hungry mouths, of hard work as farm hands for a wealthy family who weren’t the nicest of people, of isolation from the townspeople due to their birthmarks. You couldn’t imagine a life like that, of the sadness he has known, and how it must’ve beaten him down so much that he believed being vulnerable was a bad thing.

“Though it is no excuse for how I have treated you, it is perhaps…an explanation. It has been a mistake, and it was unfair of me,” he told you. He fiddled with his wooden hand, anxiousness clear as he avoided your gaze.

“Mr. Batchbury…” you began but he interrupted you.

“In truth, you scare me,” he admitted, and you were taken aback.

“Scare you?” you echoed, and he nodded.

He swallowed before speaking. “From our first encounter…you stir something in me I didn’t know I could ever feel, and that terrifies me.”

You blinked at him before taking a tentative step in his direction. “Why? Why does that frighten you? You’ve faced death, been on a frigate during war…I am merely a woman.”

Mr. Batchbury let you come closer until you were standing toe to toe with him, craning your neck to look up at his anguished face. You wanted to cradle it in your hands and kiss his forehead. His throat worked like he was trying to find the right words, but he didn’t say anything. You reached out for his flesh hand, squeezing it in yours.

“It’s okay. You can tell me,” you assured him softly. Mr. Batchbury sighed.

“How can I find the words?”

“You could in your poems.”

“It’s different writing about you, from a distance, compared to standing before you while you hold my remaining hand.”

You smiled at him, body flushing with heat as your stomach flipped over. “Just try.”

Mr. Batchbury’s gaze never strayed from your face, he was silent for a while, his eyes moving over your features as his hand stayed firmly in yours. It was minutes later when he finally spoke words in a strained voice that took your breath away.

“I am unable to make declarations the way another man could, and perhaps you deserve another man, one who is kinder and more whole. But I fear whatever heart I do have is taken up by my love for you. And should you decide you do not want me; I don’t know if I’d survive it.”

You felt your chest expand as you stared at him, mouth agape.

Mr. Batchbury loved you.

His words sunk in, and it all came together.

Mr. Batchbury did not want to be hurt by you, so he continuously pushed you away with barbed words, thinking it would be easier if you hated him. You wanted to laugh but it was so incredibly heartbreaking you had no idea how to cope. The stupid man thought if you hated him, it would make his loving of you easier to bear. And that night in the greenhouse, you’d all but told him of your feelings, kiss him and let him love you without fear for a moment, only to reject him and run away, hurting him so much more than you ever realised.

It all made sense now.

“Mr. Batchbury,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion that pierced your throat and pricked at your eyes. When he didn’t look at you, you placed a hand on his right cheek, thumb grazing the bottom of his port wine stain, and said, “Crosshair.”

His eyes flicked to you, and when he saw your expression, he leaned into your touch. The gesture so intimate and loving you nearly sobbed on the spot. You tried again, your voice a little shaky but clear.

“Crosshair, I should never have left you in that greenhouse feeling like I did not care for you. The truth is my heart has always been yours. The game that we played, the one you thought would make your love for me easier, it was the only way I could have your eyes meet mine. I understand now why you did it, but to see the person I love look at me with such disdain…I couldn’t bear it any longer. Then you were so gentle, and you were finally looking at me with something other than hate and I got scared; scared you were doing it to tease me.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, screwing his eyes shut and holding your wrist in his hand, kissing your palm. “So sorry.”

You shook your head. “I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Well, I do.” you argued back. “You say I deserve someone kinder and more whole? I say I deserve you. You are kinder than you believe. I see it every day in the love you show your family. I have told you this. You may have been unfair with me, but I could not love someone truly unkind, and you are the furthest thing from it. And whole? You are a whole, Crosshair. Why ever would you believe you are not?”

Crosshair held up his wooden hand with a sad look on his face. You only grasped it and kissed the wooden knuckles. You saw the way his eyes filled with tears, and so did yours.

“I don’t deserve you,” he shook his head.

“Yes, you do, Crosshair,” you smiled, eyes teary. “You deserve someone who loves you. And I do. And I will never not want your love.”

Crosshair shook his head and dipped his chin, so his lips found yours. You melted into him, and his arms came around you, pulling you closer until you were flush against his chest. Your arms draped over his neck as you kissed him like there was nothing else in the world you would rather do – and that was the truth. He pulled back and rest his forehead on yours.

“Why do you not think badly of me?” he asked. “I’ve made so many mistakes with you. I’ve made you cry. In the greenhouse…That day in the library…I have never hated myself more than I did when I saw that tear roll down your cheek. How can I make amends for such things?”

You let out a breath. “You have upset me, that much is true. But to make mistakes is to be human, Crosshair. How could I punish you for that?”

Crosshair’s hands held your cheeks, and he pulled back to look at you. You blinked up at him, and watched emotion flood his eyes.  

“Tell me again,” you heard him mumble, his left thumb caressing your cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered back before he whimpered and kissed you once more.

How had you gone weeks without this? You lifted yourself up on the tips of your toes and pressed into him. You made a soft noise as his arms tightened around you and you felt his mouth slowly guide yours open, and gasped when you felt his tongue moved against yours.

You’d never known kissing could be like this. His mouth was hot and wet, and you felt him moan as you attempted to caress his tongue with yours. It sent heat running through you and you scarcely wondered how it would look if someone were to come into your room now. You couldn’t deign yourself to care.

You loved Mr. Batchbury. And he loved you. Nothing else truly mattered.

Both of you now unencumbered with the fear of rejection, and consumed with the knowledge that your hearts were intertwined, neither of you held back. You felt his hands move up and down your hips before landing on your behind, squeezing you there and making you gasp.

“Crosshair,” you panted.

“For so long…” he whispered before his mouth travelled down your jawline, down your neck and towards the neckline of your bodice. You cradled his head, fingers gripping the short strands of his hair as his lips left a pathway of soft wet kisses across your décolletage. Heat ignited through you, your whole body encompassed with want and need. You felt between your legs begin to pool as his mouth found the swell of your breast as it pressed against your corset, and he nipped at the skin with his teeth, making you gasp sharply. You moaned before Crosshair dragged his lips back to yours, whispering your name like it was a spell. You kissed him harder before pulling back, hands holding his jaw. He looked magnificent like this, lips all swollen and eyes blown, hair mussed. You nearly moaned again as you brought your lips together.

“I need you closer,” you breathed against his lips.

Crosshair pulled back this time, smoothing your hair gently as he caught his breath. “Are…are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Crosshair groaned before kissing you again, his hands moving to between your shoulder blades, where the laces for your dress were. You gasped into his mouth as he tugged a little.

“May I?”

“Yes,” you answered him, all breath.

Crosshair pulled a little harder at your laces, but your maid had done them up tight and they weren’t budging at all. Crosshair drew away from your lips and tugged again, your shoulders jostling with the movement. You laughed as he muttered some choice expletives, before he met your eyes with an amused glint.

“You think this is funny?” he smirked. “I have one hand, I want my mouth on every part of you, and you’re laughing.”

Your smile only grew, knowing he was only teasing. You squealed when he turned you around, pulling your back flush against his front. You gasped and then whimpered as his lips found the curved of where your shoulder met your neck and he kissed there, sucking the skin softly before he drew back and worked at the laces again. You tried to reach over your shoulder to help him, but he swatted your hand away, determined to do it himself.

With one hand, he managed to pull at the ties of your gown until they were loose enough for him to undo the rest of them.

“Finally,” he drawled before he began pushing the gown off your shoulders. You helped him pull it off your arms and down your body, stepping out of it. You heard Crosshair groan as he realised he’d have to unlace your corset too.

“Christ, how can there be more?” he grumbled, pulling at the laces, making you laugh.

“I’m sorry, my love,” you reached up behind you with a hand and tried to help him. This time he let you, too eager to undress you to worry about his pride, your hands grazing over each other until it was loose enough for Crosshair to pull off completely.

You let the corset drop to the floor before turning to face him in just your chemise and stockings. Crosshair looked at you for a moment, eyes dancing with awe before pulling you closer and kissing you deeply again. You smiled into his kiss as your fingers moved to the buttons of his waistcoat, and you heard a chuckle rumble through his chest and lips.

“What is it?”

He just shook his head and shrugged off the garment, letting it drop into the pile with your gown. He then grabbed you, a mischievous smile on his face. You laughed as he guided you to the bed. You loved seeing him like this, so smiley and open. Never in your wildest dreams did you believe you’d ever witness a Crosshair so soft. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you climbed on it and slid back, leaning back on your elbows and bending your stockinged legs slightly so you could see him, your chemise riding up your thighs.

Crosshair watched you with an unwavering gaze as he unbuttoned his shirt with the long deft fingers of his left hand. Your eyes widened when he revealed his bare chest, shirt falling off his shoulders.

He was…very well formed. In the candlelight of your room, his brown skin was illuminated in the most beautiful way, accentuating the sculpted muscles of his lean chest and flat stomach. You saw the way his wooden hand was mounted on the end of his wrist, a small leather belted strap securing it in place. The dip in his chest had a small smattering of hair there, matching the grey on his head. You trailed your eyes down to the stripe of hair that went below the waistband of his trousers and pressed the backs of your fingers against your mouth, in fear of moaning far too loud at the sight.

He was breathtaking.

You watched him as he pulled off his boots and unclasped his trousers revealing a mound of grey hair, feeling every nerve in your body tingling as the anticipation for what’s to come only grew. You’d read books, of course, heard chatter from maids and overheard conversations between men at inns, but now being on the precipice of it with someone you truly loved…your heartbeat raced in nerves and excitement. You sucked in a breath, growing wetter between your legs as he placed both hands on the mattress and leaned towards you. You felt him pause for a moment, slanting over you as his breath fanned your lips before he kissed you again, a little sweeter this time.

Your lips stayed locked as you reclined back on the sheets, wrapping your arms around his neck as he climbed onto the bed and over you, one of his legs slotting between yours. You gasped as his lips moved down your neck once more and towards your breasts. You mewled as Crosshair nudged the neckline of your chemise with his chin, his stubble rough against your smooth skin. He looked up at you, searching for approval which you gave with a quick nod before he dipped his lips lower, kissing the soft flesh of your breast, tongue lulling out and licking the skin before he sucked gently.

“Crosshair,” you said breathlessly, and he nudged the fabric down with his nose, revealing your nipple to the air before closing his mouth over it and sucking. You arched off the bed, angling into his mouth and his right arm slid under your back, cradling him to you. It was so obscene, and yet it felt so incredible you never wanted him to stop. You felt him move across to the other one, doing the same. Your leg went around his thigh, the cotton of your socking sliding against his leg, soft moans sounding as he continued to move his tongue around the hard nub.

You whined when he pulled away, kissing you again. You were quickly becoming obsessed with how he kissed you, and how he never seemed to want to stop.

He said you name against your lips. “May I—”

“Yes,” you interrupted him. You felt him grin against your lips.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“I don’t care. I know I want you to do it,” you told him honestly. He could do whatever he wished.

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against yours before he kissed you again. He moved off you, leaning on his right elbow, unable to hold himself up anymore on just one arm, as he shuffled down the bed alongside you, then moved down your body. You propped yourself up on your elbows again and watched as he descended, eyes locking with yours. Your breath hitched when pushed your knees apart, then guided the hem of your chemise up slightly with his fingers, the soft cotton travelling up your thighs until it was bunched around your hips, exposing the most intimate part of you. You watched Crosshair’s eyes darken and his mouth slacken after he swallowed at the sight.

At his inscrutable lingering gaze, you flushed and squirmed a little, embarrassment and self-consciousness rising in you. You’d never been so exposed to someone before, and it was unnerving. What if he saw something he didn’t like? You had no frame of reference for what was desirable or considered attractive by a man; what if you didn’t measure up?

You started to close your legs when Crosshair put a hand on your knee, stopping you. You met his gaze with hot cheeks, and watched the way his face softened when he realised you were discomfitured.

“Darling,” he whispered before pressing a lingering kiss to your knee. “You are breathtaking.”

You flushed again, heart squeezing at the endearment. “Really?”

“Really.” Crosshair confirmed and hooked one of your knees over his shoulders as he rolled onto his stomach and positioned himself between your legs. Your heartbeat increased as he drew closer to your centre.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Tasting you,” he raised an eyebrow before softly asking, “Is that okay?”

You shifted your shoulders awkwardly. You had heard of such acts, but it was regarded as quite…scandalous. “Is it not improper?”

Crosshair only tipped the corner of his mouth up in amusement, arms encircling your thighs from underneath. “Darling, I think impropriety went out the window when we kissed in the greenhouse. And again, when my mouth was on your breasts.”

You let out a loud laugh before you clapped a hand over your mouth, scared the noise might attract a stray servant. You smiled behind your hand, and Crosshair grinned at you. You still marvelled at how his whole face changed and lit up when he smiled. His port-wine stain stretching and the lines on his face creasing around his mouth and eyes in a way that made you want to kiss every single one of them.

“May I?” Crosshair dipped his chin down, eyes on you. When you nodded, excitement tingling in your veins, he descended down onto your folds, his hot mouth embracing you. You gasped, mewled, your hands found his hair as he artfully moved his tongue through the wet seams. Anybody who said this was improper truly did not know how wonderful it felt.

As he continued his ministrations, Crosshair’s nose bumped against the sensitive nub that shot pleasure down to your toes. You arched, fingers gripping his short hair as you began to squirm and wriggle against his mouth. You panted, whimpering as he sucked and licked you, pulling all kinds of obscene noises from you as he brought you such pleasure.

“Cross…” you could barely string a single word together.

You felt him hum against you and you shuddered, heat beginning to coil inside you. You closed your thighs around his head, grinding against his mouth and you felt his grip on you tighten, flesh fingers digging into the soft of your thighs as he ate at your harder. It was incredible, the feeling of pleasure he was giving you, and you wondered how he was so good at it.

You felt him suck at the nub and you jerked, yelping loudly before you clamped your one of your hands over your mouth. It was too much, the pleasure building, you arched and squirmed and you tightened your hold on his hair with your other hand. You panted, looking down at him. He seemed to sense you watching him, and flicked his gaze up to you, and you felt him smirk against your folds, sucking harder.

You moaned loudly, the heat inside you rising. “Cross, I’m—”

He hummed lowly again and that’s when he added one single long slender finger, slipping easily inside you to the knuckle, as he sucked on your nub.

You were done for.

The hot pleasure that had been coiling in your stomach erupted, and your hips rose off the bed as you moaned loudly into your hand, head thrown back. You felt Crosshair’s hand press into your stomach to hold you to the mattress, and you clamped your thighs around his head as he continued to draw your peak from you. You squeezed tight around his finger, and his mouth was hot and wet against you. You had never felt anything like this before. You’d experimented, of course, too curious about what you’d heard and read as you grew past your marriageable age. But the work of your own fingers was incomparable to that of Crosshair’s mouth and what he’d managed to draw out of you.

As your pleasure waned, your moans becoming soft whimpers, Crosshair’s work against you slowed until your shudders relaxed. You gasped as you felt him remove his finger, the loss of him a hollow feeling. You looked up at the ceiling and let your hand drop from your mouth, flinging your arm across the mattress as you caught your breath. The fabric of the canopy of your bed were nothing to the stars you’d just seen.

“You good?” you heard Crosshair ask, and you looked to see him to come up from your sex, mouth glistening with your spend. You flushed as you lifted one of your legs and he shuffled up the bed, leaning on his elbow next to you. His eyes all bright and port wine stain a deep red with the exertion of pleasuring you.

“Wonderful.” Your voice was hoarse, and you cleared your throat, making both of you smile. Crosshair lifted his flesh hand, and brushed your hair back from your forehead, avoiding using the finger that had been inside you. You then watched as he placed that finger inside his mouth, licking it clean as his eyes screwed shut. Your eyes widened at the obscenity of it. It was filthy, but mesmerising. You swallowed thickly.

When Crosshair opened his eyes, he smiled lovingly at you. “You taste incredible.”

You flushed and put your head in your hands to hide it. Crosshair laughed and gently pried your hands away, kissing the tips of your fingers. You leaned up to kiss him, capturing his lips with yours. You could taste yourself on him and you moaned, twisting and hooking a leg over his hips before flipping him, climbing over him. You sat back, straddling his hips, and you felt the hard length of him against your still pulsing centre. You shifted your hips a little, feeling it rub against you. You let out a strangled breath at the feel of his bulge hitting you right there, and with the look on Crosshair’s face, you guessed he almost did to.

His hands dropped to the crease in your hips as he looked up at you like you weren’t real.

“Darling,” he whispered, making you flush. Emboldened by the way he stared at you with such awe, you lifted the edge of your chemise over your head and discarded it. You watched Crosshair’s eyes widen as you revealed your naked torso, and his flesh hand ran up your stomach and around to your waist, squeezing there.

“I never thought I would ever have you,” he murmured.

You smiled and massaged your hands across his stomach and up his pectorals, you ran a finger down the dip in his chest, through his chest hair. “Me neither.”

When your hands came back down to his trousers, they travelled below the hem and when your fingers brushed against the hair there before they grazed the hilt of his cock, he jerked, sitting up, your name falling from your lips. You gazed at him and watched his mouth drop open as you moved your hand lower, and with your heart racing, you wrapped your hand around the hot hard length of his cock.

Crosshair hissed and tightened his hold on your hips. “Fuck,” he groaned out, eyes squeezing shut.

Your folds flooded again at the sound, of the uncommon expletive, heat swirling through you. He was so hard, you’d never felt anything like it. You’d thought about it, of course, but his cock was velvety and hot. You liked it. What would it feel like inside you? You squeezed a little and Crosshair made a choking sound, grabbing onto your hand.

“Don’t, or I’ll come in my trousers,” Crosshair hissed out. He looked like he was about to pass out, all flushed, hair sticking up everywhere from you grabbing it, his eyes half closed as he looked at you, panting. You loved it.

“Really?” you said innocently. “So, I shouldn’t do this?”

You thumbed the slit at the top of his cock, which was slick with a bead of wetness. Crosshair jerked and swore again.

“You’re torturing me,” Crosshair breathed out before looking at you with a devilish glint in his eyes. “What a witch you are.”

You smiled and leaned to kiss the hinge of his jaw. “Got you under my spell,” you whispered against his hot clammy skin and Crosshair moaned so loudly against your neck you felt it ripple through you.

“Lift up, darling,” he said, and you kneeled over him as he unlaced his trousers fully and pushed them down his legs, kicking them off so he was bare, his cock springing free underneath you. You barely had time to register it as he flipped you both over again, slotting between your legs, his hot length pressed against your centre. You both moaned at the contact, your hot wetness coating the underside of his cock and you ground against him.

“Need you inside me,” you told him, and it was the single most filthy thing you’d ever uttered.

“Believe me,” Crosshair said as he kissed you again. “I need that too.” His voice turned soft. “But, darling, I have…I have to be gentle.”

You blinked up at him, understanding what he meant. You nodded. “I know.”

“Just tell me, and I’ll stop. I mean that,” Crosshair urged, smoothing your hair.

You nodded again, your heart swelling with so much love for this man, you had no idea how you had gone through life without him, how you’d endured that distance even whilst under the same roof. You never wanted to be without him again.

You cupped his cheek. “I trust you.”

You watched Crosshair’s face completely melt at your words before he gave you a lingering kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against you before positioning himself and slowly sliding into your slick folds.

You hissed, eyes shut as he stretched you open, Crosshair’s hushed voice uttering apologies and guiding you to relax. Your hands went to his arms, and you held on tight as he seated himself fully inside you. He groaned as you squeezed him and when you opened your eyes to look at him, and he was gazing at you with those watchful eyes, seeing your comfort in your expression. The feeling of him was foreign, and you felt so full, feeling every hard inch of him inside you. But after a few moments, you gave him a nod and he slowly began to move his hips.

Crosshair was as gentle as he promised, you both moaned at the sensation as he slowly moved out of you, then back in. He kissed you again as his hips undulated with care. As he moved, the uncomfortable feeling eased, and his thrusts became more fluid. The hilt of cock bumped your nub, and you moaned at the continuous stimulation.

The feeling was euphoric, and all that tenderness you craved was there as Crosshair rolled his hips into yours. It was so easy. You thought sex would be scary, uncomfortable, painful, but it wasn’t. Not with Crosshair. He was passionate, and confident and yet loving. His hands were firm but never hurt, his movements intentional with the way he rolled his hips. How lucky you were to have him in this way, after everything, after all the confusion and feelings of uncertainty and barbed words. He thought you had bewitched him, but it was he that was the creature of myth. No one in the whole entire world was like him.

You covered your mouth as you were unable to hold back a loud moan, and you met his thrusts, wanting to feel all of him. His ragged breaths fanned your face as he looked down on you. You could see his arms wobble, the wooden hand not fit for holding him up like this, so you wrapped your stockinged legs around his waist, snaking against his hot smooth skin, and flipped him so you were on top. He looked up at you in surprise as you placed your hands on his chest and rolled your hips into him. Crosshair groaned loudly.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he panted, hands guiding your movements as you moved faster. “Made for me,” he moaned.

You smiled, and you could feel that familiar heat building inside you. Your entire body was flushed, shiny with sweat and the sound of your bodies filled the room. Your breaths were loud, mewling and moaning together with Crosshair. You thanked the stars again for being in a bedroom an entire floor away from his family. You could not imagine facing them in the morning knowing they could hear you both.

Your thighs burned, but your pleasure was building as you, the wetness of your centre sliding against him. You wanted to keep going but you fell forward, sweaty body hitting his.

“Cross, I can’t,” you panted. But his arms wrapped around you and rolled so he was on top once more. You felt him slide out of you and whined at the loss of him.

“On your knees, darling,” he breathed, and you followed his instructions before you felt him push in again, his hands holding your hips. You cried out and then covered your mouth.

“Let the servants hear you,” Crosshair said, all raspy. “Let them know I’m the one making you feel like this.”

You moaned again as you felt him thrust at this new angle, and he hit places in you, you had no idea even existed. Crosshair’s moans and husky breaths filled the room as his hips slapped into your arse again and again you felt like you were going to split open in the best way. The bed shook, hair fell over your face, your arms trembled, your thighs quivering, the sounds you were making completely out of your control as they filled every corner of the room. It was ecstasy. The coils in you were wound so tight you were on the edge of falling again.

“Cross, I’m so—” you breathed out, moaning again.

“Go on,” Crosshair said huskily. “Let go, darling.”

With another rock of his hips you felt your pleasure unleash, your cry loud as your whole body shook with your release. You couldn’t keep your arms up, elbows buckling as you fell into the sheets. Your face in the silk and your arse up, you groaned, calling out Crosshair’s name, the muffled sound filling your ears as you gripped the bedding. How was this one stronger than the first?

You shuddered, your cries softening as Crosshair’s thrusts begun to slow. And when you peaked your head out from the sheets to look behind you, you watched him falter before swiftly pulling out of you and spilling on your lower back with a ragged cry.

You were mesmerised as you watched him stroke his cock until he was spent, pulling every last drop, breathless. After a moment, his eyes opened and met yours. You both gazed at each other, smiles creeping up on your faces as you gave breathless laughs.

“Sorry,” he rasped as his spend dripped down the arch of your back. “I made a mess of you.”

You shook your head, face flushed. “I liked it.”

Crosshair groaned, squeezing your hips. “Don’t say that. I’m not ready to go again.”

You laughed and watched him move off the bed on unstable legs. “Wash basin?”

“On the dresser,” you told him, and you heard him pad barefoot to the ceramic bowl and pour water from the jug. He wet the towel and walked back over to you. The cold water made your skin prickle as he wiped away the mess he made on your skin before he cleaned between your legs and his softening cock. You sat up, stretching your legs out as he walked through your bed chamber naked, returning the cloth.

When he faced you, he looked at you skeptically. “What is it?”

“Can I read more of your poetry?” you asked, almost shyly.

Crosshair blushing was not something you imagined he’d do after such a vigorously passionate intercourse with you, but watching his cheeks and the tips of his ears flush made your heart ache with love for him. “If you wish.”

“I promise I won’t laugh.”

“I believe you,” he smiled and after another moment of you unabashedly admiring his naked form in the candlelight, he looked at you with narrowed eyes and a teasing smile. “Was there something else?”

“You really are incredibly handsome.”

Crosshair barked out a laugh before crawling back onto the bed with you. You both pushed the decorative pillows off the bed before moving under the covers, your naked bodies finding each other and pulling each other closer. You tangled your legs together and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. Crosshair pressed a kiss to your forehead. In the silence that found you, you listened to his steady heartbeat, feeling it thump against your cheek. You sighed with content. How was this real?

“Darling?” you heard him say softly.

You kissed his chest. “What is it?”

He paused before quietly saying, “Marry me?”

Your heart picked up and your eyes widened. You sat up to face him. “Pardon?”

“Marry me?” He repeated, his hand caressing your cheek as he looked at you so softly. “Please.”

You felt tears sting in your eyes and your mouth break into a smile. You leaned in and kissed him sweetly, his soft lips gentle.

“Okay,” you answered against his lips before kissing him once more.

i hope you enjoyed!

this is the last part of bewitching mr. batchbury. i would love to write regency tech and wrecker, but my schedule next year will be limited as i begin working full time. fics will still be posted! just not as often.

thank you so much for reading and for supporting my work <3

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727 @rebel-ezra @lulalovez

if you weren’t tagged it’s bc it wouldn’t let me/your blog didn’t exist

TAGLIST FORM

[rachelsfav-queer]

Gomez: *standing on a table in the quad* I SHALL DEFEND MY DEAREST MORTICIA’S HONOR TILL MY VERY LAST BREATH AND EVEN BEYOND IT! YOU FOOLS WILL RUE THE DAY YOU EVER THOUGHT TO HARM MI ESPINA DE ROSA MORTAL!!

Morticia: *heart eyes* By the Gods, I love him! He is such a romantic! I will marry him by the end of the day!

Larissa: Jesus fucking Christ, I need alcohol right now.

*Approx. Three Decades Later*

Enid: *standing on a table in the quad* ANY OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS WANNA PUT HANDS ON THAT SEXY PIECE OF GOTH ASS IS GONNA LEARN WHAT 300 POUNDS OF WEREWOLF TEARING YOU IN HALF FEELS LIKE!! TRY ME YOU DUMB BITCHES! TRY MEEEE!!!!

Wednesday: *heart eyes* Oh my Gods, I have never seen such a romantic gesture in my life. I must go to acquire marriage documents this instant, but I cannot take my eyes off such a wonderful sight!

Bianca: That’s it. I’m calling Yoko, I need some hard fucking liquor to deal with you idiots. Holy fucking shit.

[not2menotifitsyou]

Car seat headrest // Richard Siken // Sotce // Larissa Pham // Amy Winehouse // Katherine Fabrizio // car seat headrest

[milfsloverblog]

Secret Benefits (part 4)

Previous part here

Sugar mommy!Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Guess who’s back, back again. I know, I know. It’s been a while. Life has been a crazy ride in the last couple of months and I just didn’t have the heart to be writing anything. But I thought it’d be nice to gift you this chapter as a new year present. Have fun! ps: this contains ANGST. You’ve been warned. Enjoy <3

You could tell that The Paragon was another one of those ridiculously expensive restaurants as soon as you set foot inside. High ceilings, heavy velvet curtains hanging by the windows, paintings on the walls.

You took a deep breath and slid your hand into Larissa’s, intertwining your fingers with hers. It felt reassuring, feeling her skin against yours and knowing that she was there with you. Or that you were there with her.

A waiter quickly walked your way, flashing the two of you a bright smile before leading you to a table. You felt a couple of stares as you walked past the other seated people and realised what they were probably thinking about. A young woman with an older one, holding hands. You hadn’t even asked Larissa if this was okay - holding her hand in public. Holding hands like a couple would. That thought made you pull your hand away from Larissa’s as if you’d been burnt, much to Larissa’s dismay.

You sat down at the table and Larissa followed suit, sitting down in front of you. The older woman smiled when you didn’t bother opening the menu that had been handed to you by the waiter, knowing full well she’d be picking whatever you’d be eating.

Good girl, she thought as her blue eyes bore into yours before dropping to the menu in her hands.

Seared scallops with a saffron sauce as a main and a white chocolate and raspberry semifredo for dessert, that’s what she had picked for you that night.

Dinner went like it did last time, Larissa was always more willing to listen to you talking about your life rather than share about hers.

The tall woman chuckled softly when you pushed some semifredo in your mouth, making you look at her.

“What?”

“You have some-“ Larissa didn’t finish her sentence, choosing instead to reach out and wipe the bit of cream from the corner of your mouth with her thumb.

Almost instinctively, your lips parted. Larissa’s breath hitched, her heart doing that damn fluttering thing in her chest. You looked so beautiful, she thought. So open to her, so inviting.

Without thinking about it twice, she pushed the tip of her finger between your parted lips. And without thinking about it twice, your tongue licked the pad of her thumb clean.

A shiver ran down Larissa’s spine and she pulled her hand away from your lips, leaving you with your mouth half open and a questioning look on your face.

“Larissa, I-“ you started apologising but the older woman cut you off, raising her hand to catch the waiter’s attention.

You stayed quiet as she paid the bill, following when she stood up and buttoned up her blazer. You weren’t sure what you had done exactly to warrant her whole demeanour to change, but it was clear that you had messed up.

She was still silent when you sat down by her side in the car, seemingly lost in her own thoughts as she drove away from the restaurant.

Larissa was as lost as you were, thousands of thoughts rushing through her mind as she remembered everything that had happened that day. This was nothing more than a beneficial agreement - she found herself thinking for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day.

She was still quiet by the time she dropped you off at your place, reaching for the envelope inside the glove compartment and carefully placing it on your lap.

“Larissa, you don’t have to-“

“I know. But that’s what we agreed on, I’m paying you for your time.”

You gave a slight nod and pushed the envelope inside your handbag.

“Well,” you started, turning a little to face Larissa who kept her gaze outside the windshield. “Thank you for today.”

The older woman nodded and gently squeezed your knee without looking at you.

For a second you wondered if that was it, if this was the last time you’d see her. And then it hit you, the sudden urge to lunge at her and pull her into a kiss. Maybe it would wipe the worry off her pretty blue eyes and the pout off her crimson lips. But you didn’t kiss her, choosing instead to mutter a quiet “goodnight” before getting out of the car.

You didn’t see Larissa again after that night, at least not for a while. She didn’t contact you anymore, not even a single text to ask how you were doing. And maybe, you thought, maybe that was for the best. Sure, money was tight again but…

“Fuck!” You dropped the letter on your coffee table. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were fucked.

“What do you mean you don’t do instalments?!” You snapped at the woman on the other side of the phone that was pressed to your ear. “Yes, yes I get that! I get that it’s my fault but-“ you groaned when the woman cut you off again to remind you for the third time that you had missed part of the payment for your college fees and you had to pay for the remaining amount as soon as possible.

“For god’s sake, I’m a college student! Where do you think I’ll find two thousand dollars before Friday?! No, no my parents won’t-“ you pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath. It was clear that the conversation wasn’t going anywhere, so you thanked the woman for her time and hung up.

You were fucked.

Asking your parents for help was useless, you already knew that. Maybe you could pick up a few more shifts at the bar but that meant you’d have to skip some classes and even then you would never gather that much money in a few days. And then it hit you. There was someone in your life who did have that kind of money.

You sighed loudly and sat down on the couch, staring at the phone that was still in your hand. You couldn’t just text Larissa asking her for two grand, not after you hadn’t talked to each other in weeks. No, you’d have to come up with a plan. And so you did.

It was a fairly simple plan. You texted Larissa asking how she was doing and chatting for a while before you offered to see each other. “A drink at my place,” you said. You knew that Larissa was attracted to you, a blind person could have told you that. Were you attracted to her though? You shook your head to get rid of the thought. It didn’t matter if you were attracted or not, all that mattered was that she was.

She had arrived at your place that evening with a bottle of Chardonnay. “I hate showing up empty-handed.” She’d told you when you said you had a couple of red wine bottles in the cupboard.

Larissa was a vision, as always. A beige-coloured coat that she shrugged off her shoulders to reveal a tight dress of the exact same beige fabric. Her hair was tied in one of those intricate updos, like the ones you’d seen in old movies, and her lips painted a darker shade of red. She was a vision.

“Make yourself comfortable, please.” You smiled and gestured towards the sofa. After a few seconds of hesitation, you opted to open a bottle of red. You had a feeling Larissa had a preference for it.

“There,” You said, placing the two glasses on the coffee table and sitting down next to the older woman. “Had a good day at work?”

“I did, it could have been worse.” Larissa gently clinked her glass against yours and took a swig of wine. She never shared much about her work which only made you more curious.

She asked about your day and you told her about it, avoiding mentioning the astronomical bill you had to pay.

“I’m glad you could come tonight.” You smiled and took a sip.

“I’m glad you invited me, I know it’s not an easy thing to let people into our space.”

“You’re right, but I trust you.“ How ironic. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” You added, looking around your living room.

Larissa hummed and took another sip of wine, uncrossing her legs and crossing them again.

“Do you live in a house?” You asked, hoping to learn more about her.

“I��No, it’s a bit complicated. I have my own apartments at work.” Larissa explained, visibly ill at ease.

“It’s fine, I know you don’t like sharing about your private life.” You pushed a small smile and carefully placed your hand on Larissa’s leg, right above her knee where the soft fabric of her dress gave way to her alabaster skin.

“Thank you,” Larissa whispered, adjusting herself so she could look at you.

You felt bad at the thought of what you were about to do. Your stomach twisting in your belly as Larissa’s gaze bore into yours. You liked her. You couldn’t do this.

Almost as a reflex you lifted your hand and emptied your drink to give yourself more courage.

“May I kiss you?” It left your lips without you even thinking about it.

Larissa’s eyes widened to the point where she looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a fast-approaching car.

Well, that did not go as you had expected.

The silence was almost too unbearable so you cleared your throat and moved to get up from the couch, hoping to pour yourself another glass of wine when slender fingers wrapped around your forearm and yanked you back down. Next thing you knew Larissa’s lips were crashing against yours, her right hand finding purchase on your cheek and pulling you impossibly closer.

“Yes,” she whispered out of breath when she eventually pulled away from you, her red lipstick smudged around her mouth up to the tip of her nose. “Yes, you may kiss me. And you may not stop.”

Larissa couldn’t help but notice the way your pupils dilated in reaction to her words. So you did want her. You wanted her like she wanted you and that made the woman’s heart swell in her chest.

“Kiss me again.” A demand that you couldn’t say no to, really. And so you kissed her again. And again. And again. Until she pulled you so you’d straddle her thighs and her lips eventually left yours, busying themselves on leaving red marks along your jaw and down your neck.

“Larissa-“ it came out as a strangled cry, your fingertips gently tugging on the woman’s hair and messing up her neat updo.

“Stop me if I go too far.” She whispered against your skin as her hands slipped under your dress to caress your thighs.

You weren’t sure if this was still part of your plan. Sure, you had hoped to seduce her thinking it might make her more susceptible to lend you the money but maybe this was actually going too far.

“I need two grand-“ it was out of your mouth in less than a second and Larissa’s hand instantly stilled their movements.

“What ?” She huffed in disbelief.

“I-I need two grand for a bill, but I’ll pay you back! I swear!”

Larissa huffed again and shook her head, her hands moving to her hair in an attempt to fix her updo - or perhaps to ground herself, you weren’t sure.

“This is why you called me here, isn’t it?”

You quickly stood up from the woman’s thighs and fixed your dress.

“No! Of course not-“ you swallowed thickly as she rose to her full height and towered over you.

Larissa’s face was flushed and you could tell it wasn’t the same flush as a few minutes before. No, this time she was furious.

“Larissa, Listen-“ You tried, taking a step back and watching her take one forward.

“No!” She growled with a severity that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “It’s your turn to listen.”

You took another step back as she took one closer, then another one, until she had you trapped against the fridge.

“You lied to me,” she said. “You made me come here, made me believe that you wanted to spend time with me. But all you care about is my money, isn’t it?” Larissa hissed, baring her teeth like a rabid dog. “You would sell your body like some cheap whore on the street.”

“And you would buy it!” You snapped, unable to let her bite you without biting her back.

“No, that’s where you’re wrong. I wouldn’t. I don’t mind paying for your time, your company. But this? No. It would feel like using you, and I already feel guilty enough as it is. Although you obviously don’t mind using me.” Larissa took a step back and reached inside her handbag, pulling out her chequebook and opening it.

“What are you-“ you started, only to be cut off by the older woman.

“I care.” Larissa simply said as she wrote the cheque. “And I thought-“ she slightly shook her head and handed you the cheque. Two thousand dollars. “Yes, I thought.” She repeated before giving a nod and putting her beige coat back on.

“Larissa,” you tried, gently wrapping your hand around her bicep.

“No,” she shook her head again and pulled away. “You’ve played me. You won’t see me again, sweetling.” It was said without any animosity. Instead, you found that her blue eyes were filled with melancholy as if she had been through this before and life was just repeating itself.

I’m sorry, you wanted to say, I’m sorry I lied to you and manipulated you. And I’m sorry to be hurting you.

You wanted to rip the cheque into pieces, to show her that it didn’t matter. But it did. You needed the money or you’d be kicked out of college. But, Larissa. Larissa, Larissa, Larissa. Larissa and her melancholy-filled eyes. I’m not like the ones who’ve hurt you before, you wanted to shout. But you were. Perhaps you were even worse than them.

Larissa and her melancholy-filled eyes.

Larissa and her warmth-filled laugh.

Larissa and her love-filled kisses.

Love-filled kisses.

Oh, god.

Of course.

You hadn’t realised it. Not before that moment. Larissa didn’t just like you. She had feelings for you.

“Larissa!” You exclaimed, snapping out of your thoughts only to find your apartment empty.

She was gone.

You were fucked.

————————————————————————

Taglist: @raspburrythief @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @geekyarmorel @h-doodles @azu-zu @barbarasstar @witchesmortuary @m1lflov3rrr @dumbasslesbi @crow-raven-crow @fridays-coven @lilfartbox1 @shawncantwrite @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens0girl @aemilia19 @the-bagel24 @lvinhs @thefutureisus2020 @gela123 @a-queen-and-her-throne @rando-mango @wheresmyboo @my-silver-spring @hillary-nicks @ablsk @natasha29romanoff @tallvampirelady12 @canyoufeelmyheartsayinghi @i-love-nerdy-stuff @1-800-milfdilf @scarlettssub @jasperobsidian-blog @i-write-sometimes-maybe @brienne-the-brave @slytherinthepms @non-binary-frogking @wife-of-gwendolinechristie @anjo-iludidoefudido @imnotafruitt @opheliauniverse

[cosmicanemoia]

There aren't enough jealousy fics in any platform known to mankind.

I'm a sucker for jealousy fics, and I can't be the only one. Right?

Like, where are the rests of fanfic where (romanoff/maximoff/weems/mills/schemmenti/etc...) going feral because they think someone wants to steal their lady (reader)???

[dianneking]

The Affair - Chapter 1 (Larissa/Reader)

Hiya! As part of my weekly writing challenge, I wrote this chapter over two writing sessions, and I chose not to wait for the fic to be finished before posting. It'll probably be a couple of chapters all together.

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature

Tags: Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Infidelity, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader.

Link to AO3 in the title

Next Chapter >

The Affair - Chapter 1

Waiting in the snow for a married woman , you thought, moodily pulling your scarf up to cover your freezing nose as yet another car passed, how the fuck did my life come to this?

You had never been one for thrills in life. If anything, you had been pretty boring: you’d always liked English class at school, always got straight As, never stepped a foot out of line. You never felt the need to, nor the appeal of being rebellious. You’d gone on to get a bachelor’s degree and teacher’s certification, and then you’d gone on to teach English in a string of small town schools.

There was only one aspect out of the ordinary in your life up until now; you could never settle down in one place.. You felt a restlessness, a pull towards something you still hadn’t found, and after a couple of years in a place, it inevitably built up until it was too strong to resist. And so you packed your bags, applied for a job somewhere else, and started anew. 

You didn’t think Jericho would be much different. Small town, 5 thousand inhabitants, only spots of interest a tacky historical reconstruction site and a school full of outcasts. The same one you had applied to. Nothing much to offer. You’d give it a year or two at most. 

You didn’t really care about the fact that you were teaching outcasts. They might drink blood or howl at the moon or whatever in their spare time, but they were teenagers that had to learn to write a proper essay just like anyone else. You prided yourself in your work ethic and told that to the board when they interviewed you. Apparently they appreciated that. Or there was nobody else who had applied. There had been some accidents during the last school year, apparently. The board had repeated several times that it had been a one-off and it had been taken care of definitively.They had all seemed very defensive about the topic. 

Once again, you shrugged it off. You had no time to waste on rumors and things of the past. The school had its quirks, sure, but all schools had, each in their own way. You settled in your quarters on the school grounds, and started reviewing your lesson plans taking into account the notes left by the previous teacher. You settled in for your usual routine of lessons, tests, marking that you were familiar with by now. 

And then she barged into your life, throwing routine and predictability to the wind. 

Even with your aversion to gossip, you’d heard about her. Larissa Weems, the best principal Nevermore had ever had, mysteriously injured in the line of work, supposedly trying to protect the school, and hospitalized for months after that. When talking about her, voices dropped to a whisper out of respect - or fear, you hadn’t been able to ascertain that. 

The day she had come back, you’d have thought royalty was about to visit the school, with the amount of fretting, of preparations, of nervous energy filling the halls and rooms. You’d had to let your classes work on assignments because they had been unable to listen to one word of what you were explaining. You had rolled your eyes in the privacy of your room. Seriously, you’d seen plenty of disruptive principals in your years of teaching, but one who could be so distracting even before she had set foot back in school? That was a first. 

You felt obliged to show up as well to the welcoming committee. The whole staff was there, as well as the student body. Some had even prepared signs, and there was a white banner draped along the balcony on which was written, in red paint, a very wonky Welcome back Princ. Weems . 

It was cute that she was so beloved by her school, you thought, but you were also thinking of how to recover the day of missed lessons, and how to optimize the next days��� so as to go back on track. You tried not to be too miffed about it. 

All of the thoughts of lesson plans and all of the lingering irritation at them being disrupted fled your brain at the sight of the first foot stepping out of the car. Shiny, varnished black shoes, showing off a milky ankle, and a shapely calf that look longer than any you’d seen (not that you made a point of looking at women’s legs all the time, but sometimes your eyes did wander…)

The skin on show was sadly cut off below the knee by the modest hemline of a woolen dress and it was at that point that Nevermore’s principal exited the car in all of her towering beauty, and your mind went completely blank, cause in all of their gossip everyone in Nevermore had forgotten to mention a small, key detail about the principal.

She was stunning. 

The most beautiful woman you’d ever seen was standing before you, waving and smiling regally, as the whole school cheered. You almost didn’t notice all the jubilant ruckus, your eyes too busy raking all over her figure, as if trying to commit every single detail to memory. Her slender, elegant hands, wrapped in leather gloves. The perfectly-tailored coat, in the same fabric and color as the dress. The sparkle of her gold jewelry in the pale winter sun. The perfect proportion of her face, the way the bright red lipstick brought attention to her smile.

Her light eyes were roaming all over the crowd, as if taking stock of known faces and new entries. Finally her gaze fixed on you, and you could see a spark of amusement flicker on her face at seeing you.

You belatedly realized that you had been gaping at her like a fish out of water.

The day after you had still been beating yourself up about the humiliation at being caught slack-jawed staring at your boss when she visited you in your classroom after you were done with the day’s lessons.

She rapped against the doorframe, but strode in before you could say anything. You scrambled to your feet, awkwardly, while she covered the distance from the door to your desk in a couple of long steps. She was wearing another dress today, a tartan dress with a belt that cinched her waist, underlying the shape of her hips and chest while still being completely work-appropriate.  

“So you’re the new teacher they have hired to replace poor Collins.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I’m Larissa Weems. Usually, I have the final word on new hires. The board does a wonderful job but sometimes they lack a certain sort of practicality in their assessment of candidates, as it happened with the last hire. I wasn’t convinced by her spiel, but the board insisted and…well. I should have trusted my gut instinct.” Her eyes grew distant for a second, before focusing back on you with a hard gaze. You could see the speckles of lighter and darker blue mixing in her irises, and the perfectly applied make-up that highlighted their natural beauty.  You tried to shake yourself out of her charm. She could be trying to fire you, and you were busy ogling her! That’s not the kind of person you were! You cleared your voice, trying to think up something to say to help your case.

“I…”

“I know you have been hired already, and I am sure you are a perfect fit for the role. I’d just like to have a little chat together, nothing too formal, just getting to know each other a little bit better.” She smiled as she said that, and while you were sure it was supposed to be a polite smile, you couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine at that. 

She looks like a predator closing in on prey , your mind unhelpfully suggested. 

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your sweaty palms and increasing heart rate. 

“O-of course, ma'am." was all you could meekily say. 

"Perfect." she purred. "Meet me at seven sharp at the Lilac Lounge. I'll have a private booth reserved."

To be continued...

Next Chapter>

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[crow-raven-crow]

Heyyy, love your writing!

It’s a bit specific but I was wondering if you could do a Larissa x reader fic where reader takes antidepressants but stopped taking them for whatever reasons then decided to start taking them again and gets really bad serotonin syndrome as her body gets used to the meds again? And Larissa is just concerned. Like just a cute fluff kinda type vibe???

Much love and take care x

𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 - [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝟏𝟖+]

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐟!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: ~1.8k 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: FLUFF, serotonin syndrome (symptoms and definition below), numbness, emptiness, ungrounded feelings, restlessness, crying, soft love, literally so soft i melted writing this i love larissa

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: see ask above

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

AO3 link in title ✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

Serotonin Syndrome - a potentially fatal drug-induced condition caused by too much serotonin in the synapses in the brain. This is caused by a medication or mix of them building up high levels of serotonin.

Signs and symptoms include: restlessness, insomnia, confusion, rapid heart rate, high blood pressure, dilated pupils, loss of muscle coordination, twitching muscles, muscle rigidity, nervousness, sweating, nausea, blurred vision, feeling like you're in a dream like state

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

The covers gave you no comfort tonight - fabrics and scents you usually melted into only stuck to your skin like static. The darkness of the room was casted away by the welcomed silver light of the moon, but the clouds at the edges of your vision only fed restlessness and frustration to you by the spoonful as you turned over for what felt like the thousandth time that night. Your body felt stiff, stuck, tired as you continued to beg it for some rest.

You were back on your antidepressants after long days of contemplation. You didn't think it would be this hard, things never seemed this hard.. The blankness, the dullness that compressed your mind being oh so silent yet all too loud at the same time - the overwhelming presence and lack of your thoughts that stood stationary at the front of your mind pressed on with no will to stop. Your body felt heavy, your bones carrying an ache you wished to forget.

You moved to her side of the bed, bringing your knees close to your chest as you inhaled small pieces of her perfume. For how exhausted you were, the rapid hammering of your heart only served as a reminder of how much longer you could be awake tonight. The pounding in your ears didn't settle no matter how hard you tried to calm your breaths, and the constant inhale and exhale was taking much more out of you than you'd like to admit. You moved the covers off of your body, upset at the layer of sweat that covered your skin, and forced the cool air of the night to shock your system.

As waves of goosebumps appeared across your skin and shivers ran through you, your eyes wandered over to the golden light seeping in from underneath the bedroom door. Your lover sat beyond those walls, a goddess of comfort, a source of haven that you were so grateful to have. You longed to forget this heavy feeling. Running your hands over your legs, you thought of the comforting warmth that sat just past those doors, the gentle kisses, the softest touches, the sanctuary that was just feet away.

You breathed in through your nose, feeling the air swirl in through you until you felt your lungs max out, hoping that the action alone would calm the newfound pit growing in your stomach, and stood as you pushed the air out of your mouth. The long night had slowly turned into a dream to you, the chill you felt under the moonlight only adding to the pull that the golden glow gave to you. You felt weightless as your feet sunk into the rug underneath you, yet the weight in your chest was ever present the closer you got to holding your hand out towards the handle.

Wood, dark and ancient and carved and worn - the only thing that separated you from something you wanted so badly, from someone you wished to melt into. The doorknob shocked your fingertips as you took hold of it, the small spark of light being enough to cause your heart to rage on again. Your lips formed into a thin line, your mind blanking as the sudden thought of going back to the bed faded from your mind - you pushed forward.

The heavy door creaked as it moved, showing its age as your wish to walk into her presence quietly slipped away from you. Your mind acknowledged the fact that you had entered the space completely, but you couldn't help but feel disconnected from yourself - knowing that you had entered a new room, touching the cold planks under your feet, feeling the heat from the roaring flames greeting your side, yet not knowing if you were truly awake.

The door to your shared quarters shut with a click, and your eyes slowly made their way to the concerned figure presented at the desk. Her hair was pure white as the moonlight guided though each strand, but the flames that burned in front of her painted her features in a caramel hue. Her eyes, capsules that carried the ocean in their blues, wandered over your tired figure in growing worry - gliding over your wrinkled, oversized shirt, to the fidgeting of your hands, to the small heaves of your chest. She took in every ounce that you offered her, and damn did she read it all like a book.

"Darling.. Is everything alright..?" Her voice cut through the air like a hot knife to butter, her accent coursing through the room and wrapping you in its safe hold, the love, the worry dripping from it completely unhidden from your soul. It was hard to focus, your eyes moving in slow, blurred circles around the room that made the cloudy edges of your vision ever more present.

"U-Um.." You didn't mean for your voice to crack, didn't mean for it to break and weaken and fade out and run from you since you never wanted anyone to worry, since you never wanted her to worry… But you were hers.. and she was yours, so she knew the truth without asking.. So of course at the first sound of your voice escaping your lips in such a small way she was already up to her feet.

The soft pads of her heels stepping onto the large rug beneath her desk soon faded into heavy clicks against the dark wood floor, growing louder until they stopped in front of you. Her fingertips, gentle and soft with their touch, traced over the curves of each of your wrists. They circled around and traced their way up your arms, the touch grounding you and bringing you back to her.

Your eyes slowly focused on hers as one of her hands came to rest on the curve of your waist, the other moving to cup your cheek. It was easy to melt into her touch, to melt into the present when you were with her. Her thumb traced back and forth against your cheek as her eyes jumped from every little bit of your features, scanning your face with a quiet worry.

It was like your body allowed everything to crumble as you stood there in front of your love, the adoration and true care that radiated from her being all it took to let your true exhaustion show. A shaky sigh left you as your body felt heavy again, and your eyes, now glossy, finally opened again to meet hers.

"Darling..?" You didn't know if it was the way her thumb stopped moving against your cheek as she saw the true emotion in your eyes, or the way that her other hand sprawled out to touch more of your skin, or the way her voice got evermore quieter as she looked at your fragile being, but a choked sob broke through you with no restriction.. then another.. and another.. and suddenly you found the stream near impossible to stop.

"Oh, my love.. Come here, darling - I've got you, I promise.." Her voice lifted you into her trance, safe and warm, as she pulled you into her arms. She pressed small kisses against your hairline, her hands tracing patterns along your back as you pressed into her. Your hands were quick to grab onto the fabric of her dress, holding on as though your life depended on it, to find some sense of reality again. Your crying was quiet, yet wrecked your body with a release it needed as your tears soaked into her grey dress.

You listened as her rapidly beating heart came to a slow, the rise and fall of her chest becoming an easier task to follow as she asked you to breathe with her. Soon, the lightness that you were missing, that you seemed to be begging for, rose to your chest, your breaths matching and mixing together as the fire crackled on next to you, as the moon grew evermore present in the sky.

You felt her pull away, but before you could move, her rose painted lips were pressed against your forehead. It was gentle, full of adoration, full of pride… A blush was quick to grow on your cheeks as you watched the goddess pull away to meet your gaze, the smallest of smiles coming up to curl her lips. She understood every part of you, and seeing her acknowledge something so small yet so hard for you only made love settle in your chest.

"Why don't we get to bed, hmm?" You knew it wasn't a question, especially when she saw the exhaustion in your eyes, the heaviness in your stance, especially when the release you had just overcome started to present the toll it really took on you.

She was an easy woman to follow, a better one to try to please, so when her hand glided over to the small of your back with a small push towards the bedroom, it was as though your legs moved on their own. The haze that was over you was different than the one you had felt when you left the room, and you were so grateful that she was able to help you change that with just her company alone.

Your body sunk into the mattress, the foam latching onto your limbs and pulling you into it's welcoming hold. The covers were cold as she pulled them over you, something you appreciated when your head met the pillow. Your eyes were quick to close, the weight of your lids making itself known, but you still tuned into the rustling you heard throughout the room.

Just as the small sounds became white noise to you, they stopped completely and nearly prompted you to open your eyes, but the opportunity was taken away when you felt the mattress dip on the other side of you, replacing a hope with a lovely fact. Arms, hushed and secure, were quick to wrap themselves around you after you felt her body settle. You turned in her hold, your own arms coming to rest on her waist as you buried your head in the crook of her neck, your fingers lightly tracing the expanse of her porcelain skin.

The lingering smell of her perfume filled your lungs, and the soft hum of her heartbeat was something easy for you to sink into. Her hand pushed underneath your shirt, smoothing over the skin of your back and traced mindless patterns there. With another sweet kiss to your head, her voice, low yet soft, rang out in the new lightness of the room, "Sleep well, you sweet thing.. I promise, I've got you.."

~~

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐚/𝐧: CRYING SOBBING BANGING THE WALLL

I LOVE WRITING LARISSA FLUFF COME ONNN

this one was very healing for me to write. i've been feeling a lot of emotions lately as i've forced myself to work through things and being able to have something like this was really helpful.

larissa is a comfort character to a lot of us, and i am so honored that someone trusted me to write something that can be so personal sometimes. we all need a person like larissa sometimes

im so sorry ive been mia LMAO so much is going on. im officially a double major (yippie lol) and im looking for a house with some friends and its midterm season andddd i increased my hours at work aaannnnddd ya know life LOL

BUT

im glad you all are so understanding <3 it warms my heart when you all still think of me or mention me because this is a really nice part of my life that i am soooo grateful for :)

here you go anon :) sorry it took so long - thank you so much for your patience <33 i hope you liked it!

xx,

~ 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰

✧･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧ :══════⊹⊹══════: ✧･ﾟ｡˚☾.･✧

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: (tagged anyone who asked/wanted to be on the "all works" taglist)

as always, feel free to ask to be added :)

@autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @finnja555 @barbarasstar @vendocrap8008 @lilfartbox1 @agathaandgwenslesbian @lvinhs @elvira-dear @kimiinou @ladybathoryy

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[notinmyvocab]

Conference Call

Summary: It's VECNA week: the Vermont Educational Conference for the Northeast Area, and Larissa is bored and lonely. A few clicks online and she hires a... friend for a few hours.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut g!p, dirty talk, mommy kink, teacher/student roleplaying, swearing, unedited

Author's Note: Ummm so this kind of got away from me. Sorry not sorry.

P.S: Caiohme is an Irish name pronounced "Kwee-va"

It was that time of year again: VECNA week: the Vermont Educational Conference for the Northeast Area. If it weren’t for the fact that she was out of town at the most boring conference ever, she never would have considered even looking up the company. But the Vermont Educational Conference for the Northeast Area didn’t exactly inspire.

It had been a week, and she was homesick, and lonely, and sad, and perhaps a bit drunker than she’d care to admit.

And this hadn’t been the first time she considered doing something like this. It was just the first time she actually went through with it. And it made her feel sick, if she were being perfectly honest. Technically it was legal, but Larissa couldn’t help but let shame weigh down on her shoulders. Was she really so undesirable that she needed to buy someone else’s company?

That was all it was, she assured herself as she sipped her cocktail of Jim Beam and diet Coke. She was paying someone to come and be her friend for a night because no one at this conference was worth her time. And no one seemed particularly interested in interacting with an Outcast from Nevermore Academy. At least this way, she was guaranteeing conversation; guaranteeing companionship, if for only an evening.

Larissa sat on the edge of the hotel bed, which she had remade, and then remade again so that the corners were tighter and the sheets appeared crisper. Not that it mattered. It was a hotel, not her home. And this person was probably not going to be judging her bed. Still, Larissa had a reputation she liked to uphold, even with strangers.

She was starting to grow anxious as the minutes ticked by. She already put through her credit card information, so surely there would be no issue? Unless it was a scam. Oh dear, had she fallen for a ploy?

There came a sharp knock at her hotel door, the sound so sudden that Larissa nearly jumped out of her skin. Was that…? Larissa took another sip of her cocktail and set aside the glass before standing up and smoothing out the skirt of her dress. Her heart thudded uneasily in her chest. Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t there, then she could forget about the whole thing?

Larissa went over the door and opened it.

Before her stood a young woman with hair that she clearly attempted to straightened, but still tried resisting, certain sections insisting on creating a wave. It was a slightly imperfect detail that actually made Larissa relax. The woman in the doorway wasn’t perfect. She was a dream, but she wasn’t perfect, and that helped put Larissa at ease.

It wasn’t until she met the woman’s eyes that Larissa realized she probably should’ve shifted her appearance; kept this more anonymous. But it was too late now.

“Larissa?”

A fake name also might’ve been a better choice.

“Yes. Um, come in.” Larissa stepped aside and watched the young woman marvel at the hotel room as if she had never seen anything so nice. It had to be part of an act. Someone who did this line of work surely saw a lot of hotel rooms in her lifetime.

“So um, how has your day been?” Larissa asked, immediately cursing herself for sounding like an idiot.

The woman turned and smiled at Larissa, apparently finding her endearing. “Long. VECNA tends to get busy for me.”

“Is that so? Why?”

The woman raised her eyebrows, wondering if Larissa really wanted her to answer that. She gave the nicer. vague answer. “Lot of lonely teachers in an unfamiliar place.”

“And um… what shall I call you?” The website Larissa found didn’t actually give names, just pictures.

“What do you want to call me?” the young woman implored, and it suddenly became clear why the website didn’t have names. She saw Larissa’s uneasiness and gave a warm smile. “I answer to a lot of things. But tonight you can call me Kitty.”

“Kitty…” Larissa said slowly, tasting the name; testing the name. “Is that your real name?”

“Is Larissa yours?” Touche. It was, but Larissa did not do anything to confirm this. Kitty went on, “It’s short for Caiomhe.”

Larissa frowned faintly, not following the explanation. “I don’t quite see how Kitty is short for Caiomhe.”

Kitty grinned, giving a soft, embarrassed laugh. “It’s not. But you can’t go through middle school with the name Caiomhe.”

“Of course. Students can be cruel.” Larissa certainly knew about that. She also didn’t doubt that customers liked such a soft sounding name. “Would you like something to drink?” Words came a little easier to her now; knowing Kitty’s name certainly helped to soothe the nerves.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink on the job.”

Job. Right. Because that was what this was. She needed to remember that.

Kitty sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs. She was so simple in her plain black cocktail dress, yet exuded elegance.

“So, what did you want to do tonight?” Kitty asked, her eyes imploring yet mischievous, head tilted to the side.

“Oh, I’m… I’m not really sure,” Larissa replied sheepishly. That was a lie. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, but now, suddenly faced with the question, she couldn’t bring herself to answer. How could she possibly voice to this stranger what she wanted?

Kitty saw the struggle in Larissa’s eyes, and gave a small, sympathetic smile. “Most people just want to talk,” she said.

“Really?”

“I mean sure, I get some people who want to take me out to dinner; pretend I’m their girlfriend. But most just… want someone to listen.” That was what made it legal. If sex happened, then it happened. But as far as the records were concerned, she was paid to hang out.

Kitty narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied Larissa, trying to guess what her mental roadblocks were. The woman just seemed so tense. “What brings you to VECNA?” she asked. Maybe conversation was the key.

“I’m a principal,” Larissa answered. “I run a boarding school… for Outcasts.”

Kitty perked up in recognition. “Nevermore?”

“So you’ve heard of it.”

“I used to be obsessed with it when I was younger,” Kitty confessed. “A boarding school for the strange and unusual; I wanted to go so badly.”

Larissa blushed, pleased and flattered that someone actually said a kind word about her dear academy. She sat on the bed next to Kitty, one hand holding her drink and the other hand resting on the bed.

“Okay, so you’re the headmistress of an elite boarding school…”

“Principal,” Larissa corrected.

“I think, tonight, you should be Headmistress.”

And like magic, Larissa’s shoulders relaxed. She downed the rest of her drink and set the now empty glass aside. She stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “And do you know why you’ve been sent to my office?”

Kitty immediately fell into her role. She sat on her hands, knees together. “Because I got caught touching myself in class.”

“Because you can’t help being a little slut, isn’t that so?” Larissa folded her arms across her chest.

She didn’t think she would slip into the fantasy so easily. She thought she would be trembling with unsteady nerves. Instead, Larissa slipped into the role as if she were slipping on her favorite heels.

Kitty pouted. “I’m sorry Headmistress. I couldn’t help it!”

“You never can. Tell me: did you slip your fingers in and out? Taste yourself when the teacher wasn’t looking?” When Kitty nodded, playing along, Larissa gave a wolfish grin. “And who were you thinking about when you were toying with your sweet little pussy?”

Kitty looked down, as if ashamed though Larissa saw no blush upon her cheeks. In fact, the corners of her mouth were curled upward; she was enjoying the game. Good.

Larissa tucked a finger under Kitty’s chin and forced her to look up. “Be a good girl, and tell me: who’s tongue were you imagining?”

“Yours, Headmistress.”

“Oh? Well, I suppose that puts us in a bit of a conundrum.” Larissa dropped her hand and stepped away from Kitty. She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the side, as if she hadn’t already decided her next move. “See, you ought to be punished. Yet…”

“Yet?”

“I find myself at a crossroads. You should be bent over my desk; you should get a lashing for being so crude. But I think spanking you would just turn you on even more. Is that true?” Larissa leaned down over Kitty, hands planted on either side of the woman. “Maybe you’d like it a little too much.”

Kitty’s perfume was hypnotizing; she smelled like an azalea. Kitty could smell the Jim Beam on Larissa’s breath and she couldn’t help herself; she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against Larissa’s. It wasn’t like she never kissed clients, but it was the first time she actually enjoyed it.

Larissa broke character, stunned by the small, affectionate gesture. She stared at Kitty, lips parted as if to ask why. Instead, she placed her hand on the back of Kitty’s head and pulled her in for a languid kiss, every movement of her tongue deliberate and precise.

And oh how Kitty relished in the attention. The kissing became hungry as Kitty craved more, needed more. She had never felt so… wanted.

Other clients pretended to want her. She knew the drill and it never bothered her. This was her life, and it paid damn well. But when they kissed her, if they kissed her, she could tell that they were imagining someone else, or just glad to have a warm body. It had never been about her.

This was about her. Larissa was kissing her.

Kitty pulled back from Larissa, and whispered, “Let me take care of you.”

“No,” Larissa said. For a brief moment, Kitty’s brow furrowed and she looked confused and even partially worried. Larissa pressed a kiss against the younger woman’s forehead, soothing her worries. “I’m going to take care of you.”

She put a hand against Kitty’s chest, guiding her to lay down on the bed. She wasted no time in getting on her knees.

Kitty’s heart fluttered, both with anticipation and adoration. She gasped softly when she felt Larissa press a kiss against her bare calf, then her knee, then her inner thigh. God it took so much strength for Larissa to go even this speed.

Larissa tucked her fingers into the waistband of Kitty’s black thong, taking a second to admire them.

“Adore Me,” Kitty said, propping herself up on her forearms.

“Pardon?”

“The panties. I get my lingerie from Adore Me. They have like a monthly subscription where they send you stuff. That’s probably my absolute favorite thing I got from them. Though I gotta say, I like it a lot better in your hands.”

“Is that so? Because I think it looks best on the floor.” Larissa tossed aside the thong and placed her hands on Kitty’s thighs, digging her nails in slightly. “Tell me what you like.”

“I’ll like whatever you do to me.”

That answer apparently wasn’t good enough. Kitty jolted as she felt a sudden, sharp slap against her cunt though she was immediately soothed by long strokes of skilled fingers. “Be a good girl, and tell me what you like.”

“That,” Kitty gasped. “I like… I like it when you call me a good girl.”

“I see. That’s unfortunate because you haven’t been a very good girl, have you? Touching yourself in class isn’t something good girls do.” Larissa slipped back into the roleplay, finding she did quite enjoy it and while she did ask Kitty what she wanted, Larissa was the one paying for the night. Give and take.

“I’m sorry, Headmistress,” Kitty whined. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Because you’re a little slut.”

“Because I’m your little slut,” Kitty corrected, daring to hold Larissa’s gaze. “I just kept imagining your fingers inside of me, making me so, so wet.”

“Oh darling, you don’t need my help making you wet.” Larissa lowered herself back down between Kitty’s legs. She inhaled deeply, basking in the woman’s arousal. She couldn’t stand it any longer. Larissa dragged her tongue along the woman’s glistening slit, tasting Kitty’s desire.

Kitty gasped at the contact, swallowing her moan. She didn’t want to admit how good Larissa made her feel with only one swipe of her tongue; she wasn’t used to this. Some clients were clumsy. Some were terribly sweet and affection. But Larissa was something else entirely.

Larissa nipped at Kitty’s clit, making the younger woman yelp. “Don’t you dare keep quiet.” She returned to devouring Kitty’s pussy, and Kitty certainly did not hold back. She let herself moan and whine and beg for more.

“Please, god… fuck, it feels so good.” The feeling of Larissa lapping at her clit was divine; Kitty wrapped her legs around Larissa, holding her close, needing more. “F-fingers. Please, fingers.”

At Kitty’s request, Larissa pulled away, chin glistening. “Do you think you deserve my fingers?”

Kitty only managed a whine. God she needed Larissa so badly. Her lack of words earned her another sharp slap on her pussy, and a commanding, “Answer me,” from Larissa. “N-no,” she choked out. “No, I don’t. But I need them. I need you. Please.”

Larissa paused, pursing her lips.

Immediately sensing Larissa’s hesitancy, Kitty sat up. “Is everything okay?”

“Can we… do you mind if we try something?”

Normally she was uneasy when a client said something like that. But Larissa was… different. Even though it sounded corny as fuck, Larissa was special. So Kitty said, “Anything you want. Name it.” For a moment, Kitty worried that she sounded too overeager. That fear was allayed when she saw Larissa relax a little.

“I’m… I’m a shapeshifter. It’s what makes me an Outcast.” That obviously wasn’t what Larissa was worried about. Kitty could see in her blue, blue eyes that there was something more; something deeper. “And… well, I’ve never actually tried it before. But I… I find myself wanting to have you be my first. If you’ll have me.”

Kitty tilted her head to the side, not quite following what Larissa meant. Her first? The woman was clearly no stranger to sex; what was there possibly to take?

Then she added it all up, and when the sum made itself apparent, Kitty inhaled sharply. Not in disgust, or even shock, but in pure desire. She nodded, eyes practically glowing in excitement.

Larissa stepped away from the bed and turned her back to Kitty. She breathed deeply as her fingers fumbled with her dress, feeling Kitty’s eyes on her.

The moments passed agonizingly slow; Kitty had sat up at this point, rubbing her thighs together to feel some sweet friction without pushing herself over the edge. And as much of a cliche as it was, her jaw did indeed drop when Larissa turned around.

Every inch of her was perfect: the swell of her breast, the curve of her waist, the place where her thighs met. And right there among it all…

Larissa stepped closer, her cock hard with desire. Kitty didn’t even hesitate to get off the bed and down onto her knees. She took hold of the throbbing member, her touch curious yet gentle. She lips ghosted along the shaft, and Larissa swallowed a moan, the sensation more intense than she ever imagined.

“Can I?” Kitty whispered against Larissa’s tip, and when she saw Larissa nod, she immediately took the cock into her mouth.

And oh god what a sensation it was. Larissa immediately threaded her fingers through Kitty’s hair, making sure she kept her pace slow and steady. This was completely new to her and it was almost overwhelming. She already wanted to cum, wanted to see thick rivulets of white spill down the side of Kitty’s perfect hot mouth. Just imagining such a sight nearly sent her over the edge, but Larissa held back.

Then Kitty dared to take Larissa’s cock all the way down her throat and made a gagging noise. Was it real or just part of the show? Larissa didn’t care, she loved it all the same.

“Good girl,” she cooed. “Take all of me; choke on Mummy’s cock.”

Larissa’s voice faded as Kitty continued to take all of her, slurping and slobbering. Finally, right when Larissa was certain she would lose control, Kitty pulled away, spit dribbling down her chin. She planted one more kiss against Larissa’s cock before getting up and bending over the bed.

For just a moment, Larissa relished in the sight of this young woman spread and dripping for her.

She slid her cock into Kitty’s wet pussy and both women groaned in pleasure.

“Fuck,” Kitty hissed as Larissa started moving in and out. She reached down between her own legs to rub her clit as Larissa kept thrusting. “Fuck, Mommy, your cock is s-so good.”

Larissa thrust harder, feeling bliss in a way she had never felt before. She could barely hear Kitty’s whines, so consumed with her own pleasure. “That’s it, take Mummy’s cock,” she growled, hand finding Kitty’s hair and pulling.

She wasn’t going to last long like this. The dirty talk thrilled her, and Kitty too.

“Please make me cum, Mommy,” Kitty begged as Larissa’s thrusting picked up speed and she kept furiously rubbing at her clit. Her legs were shaking as an orgasm unexpectedly rocked through her body.

The sight of Kitty’s quivering form and the feeling of her orgasm tearing through her sent Larissa over the edge. She gave one final thrust and held herself inside of Kitty, filling her up.

Both women breathed heavily as they slowly came down from their high. With great reluctance, Larissa pulled out of Kitty and cum dripped out of Kitty’s sopping cunt, trickling down her inner thigh.

Unable to resist, Larissa lowered herself and dragged her tongue along Kitty’s slit, tasting their mingled cum. It was divine.

Neither of them said a word for a few minutes, hearts hammering too loudly to hear one another.

Larissa lay down on the bed, feeling her lower half shift back to her usual form. She watched Kitty slip into the bathroom to clean up. She closed her eyes, her mind completely blank for once. No worries, no cares, just darkness. How wonderful.

The sound of a lock grabbed her attention and she sat up to see Kitty about to slip out the door.

“Wait,” Larissa said without thinking. But then she remembered what this all was: a business transaction. The fantasy melted away.

But to her surprise, Kitty did indeed hesitate at the door. The young woman turned. She’d been booked for the night, and sleeping over wasn’t part of the deal. But maybe… maybe an exception could be made. Just this once.

“Will you stay?” Larissa asked softly.

“If you’ll have me.”

Larissa nodded, and Kitty relocked the door. She shed her dress and slipped into the bed beside Larissa. And as Larissa pressed a kiss to her temple, Kitty wondered if she had allowed herself to cross over into forbidden territory: falling in love with a client.

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@winterfireblond @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scream-queenlover @kaymariesworld @barbarasstar @yourlocaldisneyvillain @finnja555 @milfsloverblog @opheliauniverse @lvinhs @h-doodles @lilfartbox1

[writing-rat]

Punishment Time

Pairings: Weems x Reader

Content Warning: Rough fucking, Teacher x Student, Being stepped on, Rough fingering, Spanking, Punishment, G!P Weems, Weems has a penis, AFAB Reader

Summary: Weems finds out Reader hasn't been doing homework. This means for a meeting...

It was meant to be a normal day for you but it wasn’t. You knew it felt off from the start but you didn’t say anything, not wanting to jinx it. You stretched as you glanced over at your roommate, sniffing if they were in heat. They appeared not to be though which confused you. What was going to go wrong? You didn’t know. That’s when you glanced at your homework… seeing you hadn’t done the biology for the fourth time in a row. You groaned as you mentally prepared yourself for the day, putting on your shirt, skirt and blazer. You also grabbed your tights and put them on before you left.

You was soon going down to the quad for breakfast, sitting next to Enid who was alone for the day it seemed. “What’s got you lonely wolf?” you asked, eating your breakfast that you grabbed. 

“No one is awake yet, and Willa is in the library,” she spoke casually as you nodded, both eating in silence. 

“Have you done the biology homework?” you then asked. 

“Nope. Too hard. You? Remember this is your sixth homework not done so it’ll be a meeting with Weems and your parents,” she snickered out. You groaned out loud.

“Better prepare for that then,” you joked out. Enid laughed.

“I feel bad for you. Good luck, you’ll be torn apart,” she spoke and nodded your shoulder. You rolled your eyes but nodded nervously.

-

As predicted, you was called out of your biology class. You sheepishly packed your bag as Enid sent you a thumbs up. You nodded before you left the classroom, starting your way to Weems’ office. Hesitantly, you knocked on the door knowing that your parents and Weems would be on the other side. “Come in,” came her voice, to which you opened and closed the door respectfully. That’s when you sat down, feeling your parents dissapointed stares at you.

 

“Now. We have been informed you haven’t done 6 pieces of homework and as you knew, it would be a parent and student meeting. Why aren’t you doing your homework?” Weems was blunt with her asking, causing you to look down. You knew you would be punished by Weems in a different way too, hence why you wanted to not be there too. She would make sure you wouldn’t be able to walk. 

“It has been difficult and I’ve also forgotten for a few,” you responded, remaining respectful. 

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Your mom asked. You bit your lip trying to think before you shrugged. 

“I don’t know…” you spoke. “In my defense Miss Gates is scary though,” you added on. Weems listened. 

“Still. Why didn’t you ask your friends?” Weems then asked. 

“They don’t understand either,” you spoke. Your parents and the teacher nodded. 

“I will deal with them accordingly. You may go home now,” Weems spoke. You tensed up as you glanced at the both of them, who nodded.

“We’ll see you in 2 weeks,” they both said before they left.

 

That left you alone with Weems as you was gulping nervously. She noticed that and smirked before she crawled over her desk like she did with Wednesday. You blushed, glancing down her blouse and seeing her cleavage. “I know you mean well but you’ve gotta learn a lesson,” Weems spoke, ignoring the glances as she knew you would stare. “I wasn’t even surprised you were called to my office about homework again,” she added on, standing up and walking around her desk, going beside you. You glanced to the side when you saw her bulge against her skirt, which was rather short. That shocked you as you was looking her up and down. She had on heels, a short skirt and a white button-up top. Your breath had managed to stop. 

“Sorry mommy,” you responded, your throat dry. “I’ve learnt my lesson now,” you spoke, trying to get out of punishment. Weems knew you was.

“I need to show it to you,” she spoke before she quickly lifted you out the seat and set you on her desk, standing between your legs. “You will not be able to walk for a few days,” she growled out. You nodded submissively, not trusting your mouth as you had already opened your legs up wider. You wanted her dick. 

“Such a needy little thing,” she hummed out, a cocky smirk coming onto her face. She proceeded to stroke your jawline down to your neck, before she grasped it a bit more, putting pressure on it. You gasped, getting wetter as you was starting to grind against her skirt. You knew you would be leaving a wet patch eventually. That was at least until Weems stepped back. “You should know not to get yours or my skirt wet. Feel free to keep disobeying. Your punishment will be worse,” she explained. You whined out, letting her do anything still as she was the one in control. That’s when she grabbed your skirt and brought it up, revealing your tights and underwear. “Such a pretty little thing,” she complimented, rubbing her fingers up your thighs before she suddenly ripped a hole in your tights and rubbed your clothed pussy. 

You let out an embarrassed moan as you let her touch you all over, you loved it after all. “You are my doll aren’t you?” she asked, pulling you closer as she was lifting her own skirt up, revealing no boxers as her cock slapped against your pussy. You let out a gasp as you was nodding. 

“Your personal doll to use,” you whispered out as you held onto her, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter. You knew your underwear would be a mess after this. Weems loved it though, you knew that and you’d glaldt wear ruined underwear for her. 

“Bend over the desk,” she then commanded, to which you did quickly with a nod.

“Yes mommy,” you even responded. She kept your skirt up, revealing your ass cheeks before she spanked you. “One,” you counted immediately.

“Good girl,” she bummed out, slapping again.

“Two,” you moaned out, whimpering st the gentle pain. She was never rough with spanking, she knew she had to be careful, even if you was over 18.

In total you counted to 15 before she stopped and rubbed your cheeks gently, a whimper coming out. “You took that so well. Good girl,” she praised. You couldn’t help but feel happy at that. “Now lay down on the floor for me honey. I want to try something new and I know you are interested too baby,” she spoke. You was quick to respond to that, knowing what was going to happen. She had even switched shoes god knows when. She was now wearing boots. You blushed, feeling a pressure start on your chest. She was stepping on you. Groans and whimpers slipped out your mouth but the wetness betrayed you, showing how turned on you was. She smirked, pressing against your crotch this time. A loud moan slipped out before you covered your mouth. “You are loving this hm?” she teased pressing more before you started to hump and grind against her boot. She let you for a bit, before her dick twitched with need. She also noticed you was close and she didn’t want you cumming just from her boot just yet.

 

“Bend over the desk,” she commanded. You nodded silently, bending over and even lifted your own skirt up. That’s when she moved your underwear to the side, grinding up against you. “Want my big, thick dick inside you already?” she grunted out. 

“Please mommy. Need it. Fill me up, punish me,” you moaned out, able to say the right thing as she was smirking.

“Good girl,” she spoke before she entered you quickly and rough. She was fully inside you at this point as she was pounding into you immediately. She wasn’t letting you adjust, that was your punishment. You let out loud moans as her hand silenced you by covering your mouth. Her other hand also groped at your chest as she was rubbing your nipple through the shirt and bra. You let out more load moans into her hand, drooling all over it. Weems was smirking as she kept going, quiet moans slipping out her own mouth. She was holding your chest tighter before she was rubbing at your clit. This made you even more needy for her as well as close. After a few minutes, you had to cum.

 

“Please mommy, let me cum. Need to, will do anything,” you moaned out needily. 

“Let mommy come first,” she moaned out, going harder before she came inside. At her cumming you finally came all over, gripping onto her as you was spasming around her dick. She smirked as she kept inside you, before she pulled out, satisfied with her own pleasure bud not yours. That’s when she entered her fingers into you, fucking you rough with them too.

“Fuck!” you moaned out loudly, unable to help it as you rode her fingers while you was being fucked hard. She smirked, watching you as she was rubbing your clit then. Sensitive, you came all over them too as you knew there was a mess on her desk now. 

“Good girl,” she spoke. “Will you do your homework now?” she asked. You was nodding, panting.

“Yes mommy, I will. Sorry,” you spoke quietly and was bowing your head in submission. She nodded satisfied. 

“Go under my desk and suck me off then we’ll do your homework together,” Weems then spoke. You nodded. 

You had truly learnt a lesson.

[littledollll]

Little!Reader looks up at larissa in absolute awe and absentmindedly says, “You’re tallllll..”

Larissa just nods and pats their head. “Yes, good observation. I’m proud of you, dear.”

[wasjustred]

ahhh iloveyourworkssomuch!! 💖 i'd like to request something along the lines of sugar mommy!larissa (maybe with smut, who knows *wink*) 'cause she's all i can think about these days... anyways, happy early new years!!!

Easy Does It - NSFW Larissa Weems x f!Reader

Summary: Larissa spoils you beyond comprehension. Pairing(s): Larissa Weems x f!Reader Warnings: Smut. A lot of it. (Cunnilingus, fingering, strap-on — all Reader receiving) Word Count: ~4.7k

Author’s Note: I hope this meets your expectations, anon! I originally intended to make Larissa way more domineering, but once I began writing it just didn’t feel like her——I tried to stay true to her character where I could. As always, feedback is welcome ﹠. appreciated! ♡ (un-beta-ed as per usual!) ╱ AO3

The arrangement you and Larissa have has been smoothly gliding along for about six months now: you meet for dinner every weekend, in a town about half an hour outside of Jericho. You wear an outfit she’s picked out for you, she pulls your seat out, you share conversation and good - expensive - food and drinks, and you end on the stoop of your apartment, leaning into the kiss she places on your cheek, with a weekly allowance in cash in your purse. It’s the perfect set-up, nothing you’d dare protest, but sometimes you honest to god wish she’d just break her own rules and rail you ‘till the bed breaks.

Tonight you meet her at The Aviary, draped in a black satin dress with a deep slit up the leg––one of her favorites. Larissa helps you into your seat as she usually does, but before she takes her own, she places a long velvet box on your empty appetizer plate.

“Ooh, what’s this?”

“Open it and see.” A small, proud smirk turns her lips, eyes sparkling. You run your fingers over the velvet and lift at the seam, features going slack with surprise when you realize what’s hidden inside: a collar necklace, glittering diamond-cut, softening into a single falling arc of gems which ebbs, finally, into a small, shining teardrop. Light from the restaurant’s fixtures seem drawn to it, gleaming to and fro in a scattered stream of reflection. Your gaze snaps back to hers almost immediately, heart pounding.

“Larissa, I–”

“Do you like it?”

“I– Of course I do, it’s– it’s so beautiful..” Your voice softens and tapers off as you return your attention to the box before you. It’s probably the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given to you, but you stop short of admitting this. “Help me put it on?” 

Larissa’s smile grows as she gathers the box in her hands, lifting the necklace from its cushion. She moves to stand behind you and tenderly brushes your hair aside; her hands are as soft as anything, so gentle in the way they handle you, securing the piece around your neck. Your own hand raises to rest atop the new weight at your clavicle, and when she sets her palms along your shoulders and squeezes, you shift your hand up to capture hers.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Do I need one?” Larissa presses her lips to your cheek from behind before she retakes her seat, arching a brow in challenge. The answer is no, of course; this is how you work, special occasion or not. She always manages to keep you on your toes, though, far more thoughtful and intimate than any other ‘financeur’ you’ve ever humored in the past: Tennis bracelets set with gemstones which perfectly match your eyes, a new coffee bar set-up when you mentioned off-hand that Starbucks had discontinued your favorite drink, a signed first edition copy of your favorite book she ‘just so happened to come across’ while out of state. Much more than the simple, routine bank deposits and luxury brand pieces that were never quite you which you received from others. Larissa’s gifts have always been astoundingly personal.

You’ve never told her this, but you stopped dating altogether once your little dynamic began. How could anyone else compare? She makes you feel important without ever having to work for it ––– like you’re lovable, worthy, because you exist, and nothing more. You’re breaking  your own rules, being so enamored with her, but you refuse to dwell on it.

“No, you don’t…” You trail off as your food arrives, ducking your head in thanks as the waiter sets everything out before you. Any discussion of her gift to you ends there on Larissa’s own accord, swiftly and advantageously moving on to a new topic as soon as the waiter has left you. The rest of the night is spent sipping expensive wine and musing instead on all of the high-culture goings-on you never get to discuss with anyone else: Art, ballet, classical music. Larissa’s a delicious trove of knowledge and opinions and she impresses you with each turn of a new topic. You often find yourself wondering - not just tonight, but many nights whilst basking in her presence - why she’s chosen you. You can hold good conversation, of course, and have an appreciation for the finer things in life usually reserved for those older and/or wealthier than you, but what’s always been curious, what’s always given you pause, is that she never asks for anything else in return. You have no choice but to ask yourself what it is you possibly have to offer to a woman like her––but you almost always fall short of a satisfying answer.

She’s talking you both through an analysis of the most recent play she brought you to when you take one of her hands in your own, tracing the lines of her palm as you listen. Larissa stumbles over her words at first contact, a rare occurrence for her, and blushes pink at the sensation. When you glance up at her in question she quickly averts her gaze and carries on, moving to smooth her thumb over yours as you continue. You love her fingers: they’re long, delicate, awfully reminiscent of the Greek statues she enjoys waxing poetic about. It’s an instance in which you’re reminded art, very often, echoes us in a continuous cycle of give and take.

You don’t say a word when you notice her face darken another shade as you press a kiss to the inside of her wrist before moving on to dote upon her other hand.

She’s not once explicitly told you, but Larissa’s never expected you to take a physical liking to her. She set the rules she did early on for a reason, knowing she could live with looking and not touching, taking care of you and watching your face turn alight with each gift or special night out without ever ending the evening by your side. No sex necessary, no physical affection expected. But here you are, fawning over her, and she’s never been more conflicted.

To assuage the feeling, she convinces herself it’s the wine that’s made you this way––a good bottle will go a long way, thus your touch must be the product of inebriation, not genuine affection. You’ve both long since finished off your meals when Larissa pays the bill and drives you home as she normally does, to an apartment she partly finances (not fully, at your own insistence that there are some things you should take care of yourself) and walks you to your door, stooping to kiss your cheek. Routine. 

She is right about one thing, however, and that’s the potency of the house wine tonight. Not on your reasoning, but your self-control. You spent the car ride home admiring her profile in the passing streetlamps and traffic lights, studying the way each red light cast itself across her, how the passing headlights of opposing traffic bathed her in a cinematic glow you associated only, appropriately, with Vivien Leigh in A Streetcar Named Desire. Ghostlike, almost. Ethereal. And at that same wine’s behest, you lean further now into her goodnight kiss than you’d normally allow yourself.

It’s as she prepares to leave that you decide - anchored by the weight of the diamonds around your neck - that this is the night you’ll throw caution to the wind, fervently hoping it won’t backfire and end with her rejection and a ruined arrangement that you’d both worked to preserve over the past six months.

“Do you want to join me for a nightcap? I know we don’t usually, but.. I’d like you to. If you’d like to, of course. If you don’t that’s–––”

“Y/N,” she interrupts. You can hardly tell but her heart’s just about burst out of her chest. There’s an inner battle waging right on the precipice of her ribcage and your bright, hopeful eyes staring up at her aren’t making it any easier to parse out. Do you feel obligated somehow to pay her back for the necklace? She knows you know she’d never ask that of you, that your arrangement is not a traditional one, but has she unknowingly pushed the bounds all the same? Did you simply imbibe too much and don’t really have a clue what it is you’re saying?

Or, perhaps.. Most dangerously: Do you mean it?

“I don’t want you to feel as though you have to… ‘pay me back’ for tonight. That was never my intention.”

She volleys her own inner turmoil dead straight in your direction and stares down at you with what might be, if you squint hard enough, a nervous expression.

You lean sideways against the door and cross your arms over yourself, appraising her. Does she really not want you? What the hell does she get out of this if she doesn’t? You just can’t wrap your head around it, and while you insisted to yourself you’d never outwardly question the bounds of your relationship and why they’ve settled where they are, you’ve put yourself at a crossroads.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

She balks.

“What? Of course I do. What does that have to do with anything?” Larissa’s expression is a mixture of incredulity and apprehension. You decide to bite the bullet then as she lingers uncertainly beneath the moonlight.

“I don’t understand what you get out of this. Am I not–– you think I’m pretty but you don’t want to touch me? You pay for my livelihood but you don’t want anything tangible in return?” You both purse your lips simultaneously and you’d laugh if the situation weren’t so dire all of a sudden. “You confuse me, Larissa.”

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, a small cloud bursting forth as she sighs.

You fucked it, didn’t you? Fucked it right to hell, and now she’s never going to speak to you again.

“You’re an idiot, do you know that?” The air goes still.

���

It’s news to you. 

Larissa suddenly pushes forward and traps you against the front of your door, hands leveled at your waist. “I’ve always wanted you,” she grits out, her arms tensing at your sides. “I just didn’t want you to feel as though you had to. Return the sentiment, that is. You’re too precious for that.” Her voice is low and rough in your ear, strangled. You grab hold of her forearms to keep yourself upright when her tone shoots right through you, breathing heavily. You gradually lift your gaze, poring over every curve of hers as you do, and meet her eyes. They’ve nearly gone black with lust, and a subtle quiver in her lip tells you everything you need to know.

“Kiss me.”

Larissa groans, which is admittedly not the reaction you’d expected, and presses further into you, her nose brushing against your cheek.  You can feel the heat of her grow, ensnaring you in perfect contrast to the cool night air.

“You have to tell me you want it, darling. I need you to say it.” … Oh. A new wave of arousal surges through you as you turn your head ever so slightly, her lips hovering just out of reach. The shared breath between you has become fraught with possibility, with the overwhelming, unspent energy that’s been collecting over the last six months without either of you quite noticing. Of course this is what she needs: confirmation, not that you’re hers but that she’s yours, by choice and choice alone.

“I want you, Larissa. Please,” you whisper, squeezing her arms in an attempt to ground yourself. She says nothing in return, instead immediately closing the distance and engulfing you in a desperate, searing kiss. Your cheeks burn and it’s all you can do not to melt into her fully, sucking in a sharp breath as her tongue slides against your bottom lip. This, this, you realize, is exactly what you’d imagined: Feeling her against you, wrapped up tightly in her arms, being drawn in and freed all at once, struggling to contain the desire you feel pulsing within yourself. It’s like Larissa’s split open your mind and picked through every thought there, coming away with only the most indecent imaginings and putting them to use as her hips pitch forward and her hands grasp achingly at the roundness of your thighs.

“Open the door,” she husks, suddenly ripping herself away and turning you at the waist to face the door. You fumble for your keys as she scores your neck and shoulders with hot, open-mouth kisses, running the tip of her tongue along the muscle that pulls taut there.

“F-fuck.” The chuckle she gives in response to your whimpering, shaking when you can’t fit the key into its slot, only weakens you further. Larissa must know her effect well as she wraps an arm around you to hold you upright, the other grabbing the key from you and swiftly unlocking the door in one go.

“Trust me, I’m trying.”

Laughter follows you both as you take the stairs one at a time, pausing every few to take her tongue in your mouth and run your hands along her front. You bypass the living room once you reach the landing - a feat in itself - and lead Larissa straight to your bedroom, kicking one heel off in the hall and the other at the threshold of your room. 

She stops you just before you reach the bed and holds you steady for a moment: “Hold on, I want to look at you..” You hair is mussed, curls losing their hold in the heat of your entanglement, chest heaving and red. Larissa steps forward to brush her thumb over your lips, searching your face for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

She doesn’t find any.

“Christ, you’re a pretty thing,” she hums. The pad of her thumb pulls at your bottom lip and you acquiesce, tilting your chin up before taking her finger into your mouth, rolling your tongue against its tip, watching her with wide eyes that imply an innocence you don’t possess. A hiss escapes her when your teeth come down around her knuckle and she scowls, gripping your jaw with an intensity that rivets the surrounding atmosphere as she rips her hand away, smashing your lips together once more.

In the next second the backs of your knees are buckling against the edge of the mattress and you squeak; Larissa had slipped a hand over your sternum and shoved, launching you down hard into the bed. Wet heat urges your hips forward as she crawls over you, but her hands swiftly come down to force them back into the mattress, trapping you there.

“Patience, darling.” You scoff as she begins the journey down your body, placing lazy kisses to your lips, cheek, jaw, chest while her fingers deftly work to pull your dress from you. You lift your back so she can snake a hand around and drag the zipper down to its end at the top of your hips, wriggling free and moving to pull at her own dress–––but she grabs your wrists, pinning them above you with a devious smirk. 

“Ah, ah. Let me spoil you,” she murmurs into the crook of your neck, one hand traveling to cup the dampness between your legs. Electricity cracks against your spine at her touch; you’re sweltering and freezing all at once, watching her eyes rake over you with a hunger you’ve never seen on her before. Her fingers draw idle circles around your clit as she works her way down your body, leaving a trail of wetness in her wake where tongue meets flesh, nipping at the precipice of your hip bones, glancing up at you before she licks you through your panties. There’s no helping the whine you turn free when she all but purrs at the taste she gets of you from the soaked fabric.

“Larissa, please,” you huff, lifting your hips up to meet her mouth. She takes three steps then in quick succession: chuckles into the skin of your inner thigh; pulls your panties down and off of you; and presses a series of messy, teasing kisses to your bare sex. Your fingers clutch at the top of your duvet as she finally begins to devour you, breath hitching as her tongue circles your entrance and delves into you. In a moment of white hot desperation, you hook your legs around her, calves flexing against her back as you shudder into her touch. She’s ravenous, consuming you with long, uninterrupted strokes that ride on the flat of her tongue, lapping your slickness up and winding into you all at once. The coil is tight within you already, pulsing with every movement of her mouth. You’re almost worried it’ll be over before it scarcely has had the chance to start, but a quiet, bemused voice in the back of your mind ridicules you: Larissa is nothing if not generous.

“You taste divine,” she breathes, before returning her ministrations to your clit, sucking and popping with the filthiest fucking moan you’ve ever heard. The feeling of her tongue against that tight bundle of nerves prompts your eyes to roll back, eyelids fluttering, and imbues your hands with a mind of their own, working them swiftly into her hair and pulling her as close to your cunt as you can get her, hips lurching in an unsteady rhythm. You can feel her amusement at your desperation as distinctly as you feel her mouth, but it’s quickly forgotten when she slides two fingers into you with an ease that makes you lightheaded. The sound of your wetness is sinful, and you have to admit it only spurs you on.

“Fuck me, fuck me, pleasefuckme––” Larissa’s grinning against you as she pumps her fingers, curling into you with a startling accuracy that leaves you breathless and aching. You press your cheek to your shoulder in a feeble attempt to keep yourself above the threshold dividing pleasure and bliss, useless as she slips another finger into you and flicks her tongue against you, quickening her pace as she follows the mounting tone of your pleas. Every touch spreads a warmth through you impossible to ignore, stirring a frantic need beneath the surface of your skin.

“Cum for me, darling, cum for me, that’s right.” Larissa presses the heel of her hand into the space just below the swell of your stomach and the coil snaps suddenly, sharply, sucking all of the air out of you at the same time that you yelp and tense with equal force, clamping around her face as your orgasm tears through you. She continues to lap at you even as your hands push at her, holding fast to your thighs to keep her place. Your legs shake as she builds you up in the same breath that you’re coming down, a second orgasm already rearing its head.

“I can’t,” you keen, but Larissa shakes her head and unlatches briefly to disagree.

“Yes you can, Y/N––be a good girl for me.” It washes over you when she lowers her face again and wraps her lips around your clit, sucking with an unfazed firmness that shocks you to your center. You’re tingling over every limb, pacing your breaths to ride you through this second crest. “That’s it..” Larissa coos, running her hand over your leg comfortingly. You can hardly breathe as the shockwaves roll through you one after the other, and the darkness of the ceiling above you seems to double in size as you stare in a daze.

Your muscles melt into the mattress one by one, sinking deep as Larissa finally pulls her head away and crawls forward to kiss you; you can taste your slickness on her tongue, familiar and tangy. When you part, gasping for air, you wrap a hand around the back of her neck and press your foreheads together, gazing up into her eyes with the softest look you can muster after so thoroughly falling apart in her hands.

“My turn?” She laughs loud and heartily at your doe-eyed demeanor. You’re itching to touch her, to taste her, and she knows it.

“Mmm, maybe.” Larissa shrugs and rises up from her position over you, sliding off to the side of the bed where you can’t reach her––and not for lack of trying. A whine catches in your throat when she shoots a withering look over her shoulder, patting the space beside her. “Help me with my dress, darling.”

You waste no time in flipping over onto your knees, shuffling over to her and grappling with the zipper of her dress. You flush when she laughs both at your inability to get it down in one swift motion and the frustrated little growl that bubbles up from your chest.

“Not funny,” you complain, gritting your teeth as she shifts and the zipper gives, revealing the smooth, snowy expanse of her back. Instilled with a renewed sense of hunger, you push the fabric away from both of her shoulders and continue the journey down and around to her breasts, thrilled she’s forgone a bra tonight as you palm the supple flesh there and roll her nipples between your fingers. The sigh she expels is a ragged one, her hands dwarfing yours whilst her head falls back against your shoulder. You revel in the sight of her lip caught between her teeth.

“I want to fuck you.” You just barely catch it in between her labored breaths and your own thunderous heartbeat, but you do, and you turn to glance at her curiously before her meaning hits you square in the face.

“But––”

She cuts you off. “I want to destroy you, Y/N. You can taste me later,” Larissa mutters, pivoting without another warning and capturing your lips again. You wouldn’t complain if it weren’t for the utter distress you felt to get your hands on her. She doesn’t give you a chance to rebut, however, as she slips out of her dress and climbs over you, guiding your hands to grip her ass. “Later, I promise.” She pulls back to appraise you, taking a rigorous inventory that she’ll commit to memory if it’s the last thing she does: Your flushed skin, the way you can’t keep still under her touch, the unmistakable shine of desire in your eyes.

“In th-the nightstand,” you stammer. Suddenly the realization that Larissa is here, in your bed, and you, at her mercy, is too much at once. You’re trembling with need and anticipation. She tilts her head at you, one second, two passing before she follows your guidance and pulls the drawer open, grinning wickedly at what she finds there.

“Harness?”

You nod vigorously, propping yourself up on your elbows and directing her through another drawer of your dresser. The slow, methodical way in which she fastens the leather around herself surely burns itself into your brain, and you can’t help the shameless moan that seeps out when she smooths an indulgent layer of lubricant along the silicone from base to tip, a delicious sight between her legs.

Larissa approaches with an emphasized swing to her hips, bending at the waist to press a chaste kiss to your lips before she nudges you to scoot back into the middle of the bed, positioning herself above you with a hand on either side of your head. She dips her face down into the hollow of your throat. 

Her voice vibrates against you despite her hushed tone. “Are you ready for me, darling?”

Your brain short-circuits at her words, imperfect timing. God, she’s fucking hot.

She lifts her head again to catch your gaze and smirks, nibbling on the tip of your chin. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes, I’m ready,” you rasp, drawing your nails down the broad expanse of her back in anticipation.

The moment she slides into you is pure ecstasy: your toes curl and you haphazardly clamber for purchase upon her skin as she buries herself deep within you, stalling for a few moments to give you time to adjust. The way Larissa groans into the motion draws out an amusing - filthy - rumination about her being able to feel every stroke as with her own body, delighting in your wetness. She fills you seamlessly, snapping her hips against you before slowly drawing herself back, only to repeat the pattern and plunge into you as deeply as she’s able. It’s bruising and pleasurable all at once, how she brushes up against your walls and the ridges of the toy hit what your mind insists is every nerve-ending within you.

You rock together desperately, bodies moving as one as if you’d been doing this for centuries, mapping each other out and bringing each other to your peak. You savor the novel, tangled scent of sweat and arousal, a newly formed association with the sound of Larissa’s broken whimpers now frozen in your psyche.

A startled breath leaves you as Larissa abruptly anchors her weight to one side and pulls you on top of her, flipping your positions. Her arms wrap tight around you, looped at your back and around your shoulder as she fucks up into you at a crushing pace. You whine into the crook of her neck and realize you’re on the verge of tears, an overwhelming wave of pleasure and desperation wracking your body. Quiet grunts accompany her each thrust, slowing just so until it’s a steady pattern you can count to like clockwork, brutal and sharp at every buck of her hips. Your knees are aching, folded as they are, but the tight, coiling sensation within you overrides any and all discomfort, merely a quiet nagging in your brain; your focus is settled precisely on the angle of her cock and how her nails dig into your skin as you grind against each other. She’s close, too. You can feel it. It’s there in the shallowness of her breaths, in the urgency of her pelvis against yours, in the subtle arch of her back. You try to meet her where she’s at in your muddled state, pitching your hips backwards and down when she thrusts upwards––and you know it’s worked when she gasps and her hands scramble to lock together at the small of your back.

“Yes, that’s it darling. Just like that,” Larissa pants, using the leverage of her hold on you to help you fuck yourself. The only sounds permeating the room are that of your mingled breaths and her cock driving into you with a consistent, almost unforgiving rhythm. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, ohfuck––” 

“Y/N–––”

She tenses with you and cries out as your orgasms hit you both at once, ravaging you beyond reason. You’re hyper-aware of the way her breasts feel pressed against you, the way one of her hands flies up to bury itself in your hair as you ride her through your climax. Larissa’s hips stutter as she whines into your shoulder, sinking her teeth into you, and you marvel at the feeling of her muscles clenching around you, from the sinewy stretch of her arms to her thighs rested between your own.

Everything you’d hoped for. Fantasized about. Greedily deliberated again and again whilst watching her across the table in another fancy restaurant in another unfamiliar town.

Larissa is careful as she pulls out of you, slow and deliberate so as not to disturb the tenderness there. You remain curled on top of her but she doesn’t complain, rather rubbing your back in long, languid movements and whispering affirmations in you ear, a sweet mixture of ‘breathe darling, I’ve got you’ and more headily, ‘you did so well for me, you’re so good, you took me so well’. When you allow yourself to fall to the side of her, she shimmies out of the harness and tosses it somewhere off the edge of the bed, ignoring its clatter as she wraps you up in her arms. You burrow yourself further into her warmth and sigh at the feeling, content.

“Now is it my turn?” you ask, voice low and raked over with exhaustion. The belly laugh she gives is worth all the weariness in the world. “You’re incorrigible!”

[crosshairlovebot]

enclosed intentions / crosshair gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: amid your growing feelings for the silver-haired sniper, you and crosshair are paired together on a mission that goes awry, which brings to light intentions you've been aching to know.

word count: 9,934 (pHEW!!)

warnings: near-death experience (everyone lives). landslide. heavy storms. enclosed spaces. minor injury. minor injury description. making out. light angst.

been wanting to write another crosshair fic for a while bc he's my GUY and i love him!!! season 3 is only fuelling the burning fire he stokes in my chest. i hope you enjoy this! strap in! it's a long one! (sorry if there are any errors, i've edited this but it's so long it's entirely possible that i missed some <3)

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

More often than not, Clone Force 99 was sent on dangerous missions – missions too specialised for the regular battalions and squads that filled the Grand Army of the Republic. The missions that troubled Jedi Generals regarding the potential loss of men. But Clone Force 99 and their specialised skills took on those missions with ease, enthusiasm even.

You were about to embark on another one of those missions.

When you’d first joined the GAR as a medic, you’d heard rumours about the squad of defective clones and their enhanced skills, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t impressed by their reportedly unbroken mission success.

When Echo walked into your medbay after he’d been rescued from Skako Minor and you were the first to check over him – making him feel comfortable after years of prodding and inhumane treatment – it only made sense for you to join the team as a field medic to continue to treat him and the other members of the squad.

Though they were initially dubious of the idea of a nat-born joining their ranks, they had always been a misfit crew – you were only another addition to that, and it wasn’t long before your presence with the squad felt like being at home.

You got on with each of the members well, even if they grumbled and complained about your regularly scheduled medical check-ups after missions.

Tech was a great help in collating the medical files he’d made from when he acted as the informal medic. You joked along with Wrecker, who often used you as an alternate barbell, lifting you over his head to warm up before a mission. Hunter often conferred with you before mission briefings to go over any hazards that could harm them. Echo was probably your strongest bond, the trust that existed between you both created a level of closeness not shared with the other members of the squad.

But Crosshair…

You’d soon discovered that Crosshair was weary of anyone who wasn’t part of his immediate family, and you joining Clone Force 99 – and in such constant close quarters, meant your relationship with the sharpshooter was a little more distant than the others.

You tried not to let it bother you so much, but it was hard when you were joking with Wrecker, and you could feel Crosshair’s discerning enhanced eyes on you. You often ignored his gaze as best you could, but sometimes you would look over at him, and hold his eyes for a moment before he got up and walked away.

You wish you knew what those looks meant. You would lay in your bunk at night, and think about it, trying to piece together any patterns and figure out why Crosshair’s eyes never seemed to truly leave you.

Despite the distance between you both, it didn’t deter your intrigue about him. There was something about him that drew your attentions towards him.

If you didn’t feel his eyes on you, your eyes would find him. He was so fascinating to watch. Everything he did, he did with purpose; intention. Nothing about Crosshair was insignificant. Every word, every gesture, every look held meaning. You liked trying to figure it out, but you had yet to decipher much of it – especially when it was directed at you. He was like a puzzle that didn’t want to be solved, hiding all his answers in disappearing ink, you had to hold him up to the light to try and unravel him. You wished he would let you, but his terse demeanour kept you at bay - not wanting to disturb what balance you had.

So you were content to watch him from a distance. He was methodical about everything. Cleaning his rifle the same way after every mission, never missing a step, always performing each of them in the same order. His armour went on the same way. You would watch how his toothpicks would always dangle from his lips as he cleaned his prized weapon, and you would almost be hypnotised by the way he moved the wooden stick between his teeth. You spent so much time staring at his mouth, that you could probably draw it from memory.

He was magnetising.

Whenever you needed to perform a medical check on him, you would do so quietly and draw it out, as if trying to soak up every moment of the closeness to him, catalogue it all.

When it came to checking his hands, you would gently hold them in your palms and gently massage the joints that could get cramped from holding the rifle tightly. You would check the nerves with a light prick on each fingertip and around the palm. Those examinations were so tense, his eyes on you the entire time watching your every move in the tiny medbay on the Marauder. You could barely focus in that room, there was nowhere to hide from his sharp eyes. And when you dared meet his gaze, his eyes would hold yours in a way that left you breathless and you were never able to look him in the eyes for very long. They’d look right into yours, an expression dancing in them you could never place.

But he never said anything to you – not unless you asked him a question about pain. But you’d think about each interaction for days afterwards.

Your silent exchanges filled your head at night, spilling over into your dreams. Dreams where those hands you’d just inspected in the waking world would be holding you tightly, that mouth you’d stared at brushing against your cheek and neck, whispering things you pretended not to remember once you woke. You’d wake up from those dreams confused, still feeling the ghost of his touches on you. It didn’t hit you until several dreams later that that initial intrigue had given way to feelings much deeper; to an intense crush that only seemed to build the longer you spent with Clone Force 99.

If anyone else noticed, they never said anything. You carried on as normal and hoped Hunter’s heightened senses didn’t pick up on the way your face heated or your heartbeat increased when Crosshair was near.

Except the silence between you broke a few days ago.

After the last mission, you were scheduled to do the weekly checks on the squad. You always left Crosshair until last, knowing he liked to clean his rifle as soon as the mission debrief was over. When you called him into the tiny room, he sat down on the bench, and you completed the first part of the check-up smoothly.

It was when you were massaging one of his hands, loosening the stiffness with your own fingers, that you felt his close around yours.

You had stilled and slowly looked up at him. His brown-eyed gaze met yours and you felt the air get sucked out of your lungs. You watched his eyes flick between yours, his throat working as his fingers were warm around yours. He was holding your hand, and it was warm and strong despite its slenderness. It was such an innocent gesture, and yet the sensation of his touch made your face burn and heat unfurl in your chest as your feelings for the sniper were unleashed in full force. You didn’t know what to do, but you would be lying if you didn’t like the feel of his fingers around yours. But this was Crosshair – the Crosshair who barely spoke to you, who watched you like he was analysing your every move.

“A-am I hurting you?” you managed to stammer out.

Crosshair blinked, seemingly jolting himself out of a trance and pulled his hands away roughly, frowning. “No.” His voice was like gravel, and he stood up and quickly left the room, check-up unfinished.

You had no idea what had happened, what you had done, what he had done, but you stood in that room trying to quell your racing heart for ages before you worked up the nerve to emerge. You spent that night thinking about the warmth of his fingers around yours and the way his throat bobbed like he wanted to tell you something.

What was it that he wanted to say? You knew Crosshair was always intentional in everything he did, so what was his intention with holding your hand like that?

Now, as the Marauder flew into a planet you couldn’t remember the name of, you felt those brown eyes on you from where Crosshair sat in one of the seats in the cockpit, his arms crossed and toothpick between his lips. Echo helped Tech guide the ship as Wrecker bench-pressed Gonky in the corridor. Hunter stood nearby as you held onto the back of Tech’s pilot seat as the ship flew into the planet’s atmosphere.

Since joining the squad a mere two months ago, you had been to more planets than you ever thought you would visit in your entire lifetime, but you had never seen anything like this.

The sky was full of enormous floating rocks, with thick greenery on top. You didn’t know how they stayed floating like this.

“This place is unbelievable,” you murmured. “How is this possible?”

“The rocks are held up by the planet’s unique gravity, creating a balanced pull that tethers the rock to its place. Think of them as miniature planets that exist within the atmosphere,” Tech explained.

You hummed in amazement as Tech flew past them all and steered towards the planet’s surface, which lay beneath a thick bank of dark clouds. The clouds gave way to rocky terrain, with a mountain range that jutted up from the ground haphazardly, not unlike their floating counterparts, as well as canyons and valleys. The whole planet seems to be rocks in various states. Tech landed the ship in a clear area and then everyone turned to Hunter.

“So, what’s the plan, Hunter?” Wrecker called out, finally giving Gonky a rest and placing him back on the ground.

Everyone gathered around a holomap Hunter had brought up. You felt Crosshair slide in next to you, his crossed arms grazing yours. Heat prickled your skin, the memory of the warmth of his fingers coming to life again, and you shifted slightly, drawing your arms closer to your body. You looked up at him but for once, his gaze wasn’t on you, but on the blue graphics in front of him. Your face burned. It was embarrassing how much of an effect he had on you, and even more so now after that moment in the medbay. He seemed to have completely forgotten about it, and here you were still having phantom feelings of the way his fingers wrapped around yours.

“We divide our squad,” Hunter begins. “Break off into pairs. The mineral we’ve been sent to recover is located across this entire sector, but according to Tech, not all of it will be viable.”

“There is a very narrow window in which the mineral is usable, and it will be difficult to find. But we will need to be cautious. The viable mineral is highly volatile when handled. And there’s an incoming storm headed this way, and due to the unique gravitational field on this planet, the storms here are quite lethal,” Tech tapped on his datapad.

You took a deep breath in. It appeared there was a lot that could go wrong.

Hunter nodded. “I can feel it. We’ll need to move fast, so let’s get going. Echo, you’re with me in the Badlands. Tech and Wrecker, you head west for the Valley. And that leaves Crosshair with N’edee up in the Mountains. Comm if you find any viable mineral and triangulate your position as best you can for reference before extracting as much as possible. Then head back to the Marauder where we’ll reconvene. Questions?”

Everyone shook their head. “The terrain is tough out there, so let’s try to avoid N’edee having to patch up any injuries,” Hunter added, sending you a smile. Everyone nodded before Hunter signalled everyone to move out.

N’edee was the little Mando’a nickname they’d appointed you. It meant ‘no bite’. After you’d first joined, you’d witnessed your first ever disagreement between Crosshair and Hunter and, not used to their scuffles yet, tried to mediate between them. They were so amused it stopped the argument and earned you the name – since you’d rather try to keep the peace instead of letting them fight it out.

Now, you knew better, but the name stuck. You wished you hated it, but Crosshair’s smirk as he called you it the first time was the first time he ever sort of smiled at you.

And the last.

The squad grabbed their gear, and you strapped your med pack to your back and holstered a blaster you barely ever used. You felt your whole body go into overdrive, not only because of the risk of the mission but also because you were paired off with Crosshair. The thought of being so close; just the two of you sent nerves running through you. If it was anyone else, you wouldn’t hesitate to ask what happened in the medbay, and try and sort it out and move forward, but you didn’t have that kind of closeness with Crosshair. There was no way you felt comfortable bringing up the way he held your hand – this was an important mission, and you didn’t want to risk ruining it by making Crosshair uncomfortable and clam up so tight you’d lose the modicum of trust you had.

Whenever intention he’d had, you weren’t destined to ever know what it was. So, you’d just have to take a page out of his book and pretend it never happened.

You made your way down the Marauder’s gangplank to find Crosshair waiting for you, helmet under his arm and holding the barrel of the sniper with his free hand as the hilt rested on the ground. He was the only one there, the others had already started their treks. You quickened your steps down as he looked over at you, heat blooming up your neck.

“Sorry,” you told him. Crosshair shook his head, either dismissing the apology or disappointed in your slowness to get ready – you couldn’t tell.

“Let’s go, the storm’s moving quickly,” he informed in that way of his. He placed his helmet on and started walking. You watched him walk away, not looking back at you as his long legs carried him quickly through the rocky ground in the direction of the mountain range.

“Try and keep up,” he called back, and you huffed, adjusting your med pack and jogging after him.

Crosshair kept a quick pace as you both walked, and his height didn’t help. The rhythmic beeping of the scanner Tech provided you with and your footsteps were the only sound between you both. You tried to keep up as best you could as you approached the base of the mountain range, but you were still lagging a couple of metres behind him.

You had been worried about the awkwardness a conversation about what happened in the medbay would bring, and yet you were not even close enough to have one.

You huffed, a light sheen of sweat covering your brow, as you stepped over a bunch of rocks, moving between them as best you could, looking down at your feet to ensure you didn’t fall. The weather was beginning to change, and you knew the storm was getting closer as the wind picked up and nearly knocked you off balance a few times. But you had still to find any viable mineral. You looked at the scanner and saw it was indeed picking up signs of the mineral, but none of it was suitable – either too old or too young a sample. You sighed. This was going to take longer than you thought, and you only hoped you had more luck once you reached the mountains, and that the storm would hold off.

“Watch your step,” Crosshair called back to you. You looked up to watch him as he stepped on a boulder and jumped down into what must’ve been a small ditch at the foot of the mountain range. You frowned and kept walking. As you got closer, you were surprised as you realised he was waiting for you. His helmet was trained on you as you reached the rock and you tried to pretend like it wasn’t a big deal to you. You stepped on top of the boulder, the wind whipping around you as his gaze tilted up at you. For once, you towered over him. You couldn’t help but smile playfully at him.

“So, this is what the world must look like for you,” you joked, trying to ease the tension that was still thick between you.

Crosshair let out a small scoff at your joke before holding out his hand. “Hurry up.”

You widened your eyes at his extended hand, your eyes flicking to it and then back to his visor. After the medbay, you hardly imagined he’d be offering a hand to you again in a clinical setting, let alone to help you descend a boulder. You looked at his outstretched hand, letting a moment pass as you waited for him to retract it, but he didn’t.

This gesture was intentional.

You slowly placed your hand in his. His hand was as warm and strong as it was several days ago, and the familiarity of it made your insides jolt as you felt it wrap around your palm. The nerve endings in your hand tingled in excitement as they ignited from his touch. Heat coiled its warmth through your whole body as you crouched down to a sitting position, doing your best not to topple over not only from the wind. He helped you slide off the edge down to where he was standing, his hand steadying you.

You wobbled on your feet slightly as you landed, and you looked up at him, wishing he wasn’t wearing his helmet right now so you could discern his steely gaze. Though you had a feeling his bare face still would not betray anything of what was going on in his head.

Was he acknowledging what happened? Or was he just being considerate of the terrain?

Before you could open your mouth with a ‘thank you’, he let go of your hand and started walking up a pathway that seemed to wind up the mountain.

You guessed it was not the former.

You took in a shaky breath, body tingling with the remnants of his touch as you felt its cold absence and started after him; scanner poised as you walked.

The pathway up the mountain was wide enough to walk on, but too narrow to walk side by side comfortably without worry of falling over the edge. So, you trailed behind Crosshair once again, who had now slowed down that the route had grown more precarious. You clenched your jaw as you followed his steps carefully, avoiding any loose rocks as you walked. You tried not to think about the increasing ascension of the mountain, the ground below getting smaller and smaller the higher you both trekked as you continued to scan the side of the mountain for any trace of a viable source of the mineral, but still, there was nothing.

The higher you moved the wind that whipped around both your bodies increased as the clouds rolled in. You had to move your hand alongside the mountain as you waked, too afraid you’d blow away as the gusts of wind threatened to knock you over.

You’d been walking for a few hours by now and with the weather getting worse, the constant pace was starting to wear on you; arms and legs sore and feet aching, face stinging. You looked out over the cliff and saw you were almost halfway up, and the sky was getting darker as the storm continued to draw closer. Every time you looked, it seemed to be moving towards you quicker, so as much as you wanted to stop and rest, you knew that you couldn’t – especially when you looked ahead at Crosshair and saw he didn’t seem to show any signs of exhaustion.

Though you knew clones had been engineered to withstand increased levels of physical exertion, you still felt inadequate not being able to keep up. Even after two months with the squad, you still weren’t used to the physicality of the missions. You weren’t initially trained as a field medic, but you still didn’t want to look like you couldn’t handle this simple mission – even if it was more gruelling than you anticipated. So, you gritted your teeth and kept walking, despite the way your body protested with each step.

Crosshair began to slow before he stopped and turned to look at you. “Picking up anything?”

You shook your head and hoped you didn’t sound as puffed out as you felt. “Nothing viable. Not even a false read.”

Crosshair grumbled. “Another wild bantha chase.”

You tried to sound upbeat, but you weren’t fooling anyone. “Maybe the others have had more luck?”

“Maybe,” Crosshair said, his helmeted face drifting from you to the sky. He removed his helmet and scowled as the storm drew closer and closer to your position on the mountain. It was close enough now that you began to see flashes of lightning strike within the clouds, and you jolted when a crack of thunder sounded like it was almost on top of you.

“The storm is too close,” he said, shaking his head in concern.

“I know. Should we head back to the Marauder?”

“There’s no time. We need a pickup,” Crosshair sighed and placed his helmet back on, pressing the side of his helmet. “Hunter, do you copy?”

You watched him, hand gripping the mountain as the wind grew stronger with each passing second. You were starting to feel spits of rain hit your skin as more thunder and lightning struck. Your body was shaking with exhaustion and all you wanted to do was lie down in a safe place and fall asleep.

“Wrecker? Do you copy? Tech? Echo? Hunter, are you there?” Crosshair spoke into his comm, his voice getting harder with every word. He let out a frustrated sigh.

“I can’t reach them. There’s too much atmospheric interference with the storm, maybe even the gravity too.”

You looked at him and tried not to sound panicked, but you knew your face betrayed you anyway. “What do we do?”

A crack of thunder sounded, and it was like the sky was splitting open. The mountain shook under your feet, and you fell to your knees, yelping. You felt Crosshair crouch next to you, a hand on your back to steady you. You looked up at him as the rain started to pelt down heavily on you both. You tried to shield your face, but the rain was so heavy it felt like knives cutting as it hit the skin of your face.

Crosshair hooked a hand under your arm and hauled you up. “We have to move.”

“We need to get off this mountain!” You shouted over the rain.

“We need to find shelter. Come on,” Crosshair skirted you in front of him and you both started to run up the path in the pouring rain. You held a hand against your brow to try and see, but the rain and wind intensified more than you thought possible, blurring your vision.

“Crosshair, I can’t—”

You slipped on a rock loosened by the wet ground. You cried out and fell forward, landing on your hands harshly. You felt your palms sting as you tried to get to your feet, but Crosshair slid his hands under your armpits and lifted you just as there was a flash of bright light, and the mountain shook again, this time more violently. It felt like the lightning had hit the mountain this time, and when you tried to look up to check, your worst fears were confirmed as the sound of rocks tumbling began to get louder over the heavy rain. Panic coursed through your veins.

“Go!” Crosshair yelled, hand steady on your arm as you both ran, him pulling you forward. You could feel rocks landing behind you and you tried to run faster, skin numb from the rain.

“There’s a cave up ahead! Hurry!” Crosshair shouted as he led you towards the mouth of the cave. Your thighs and calves burned, and Crosshair pulled you inside just as rocks fell and covered the entrance of the cave, trapping you both inside.

You fell to your knees, catching your breath as you looked around and realised how dark it was. You’re eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, so could barely see anything, but you heard Crosshair’s body hit the ground nearby as he sat down, grunting as he took his helmet off. His breath moved quickly too as you blinked and tried reaching out to see where he was.

“Crosshair?” you said, patting the hard ground next to you until you found his knee.

“I’m here,” he said, placing a hand over yours. You sucked in a breath as his fingers curled around yours. “You okay?” He asked, his voice raspy.

Your heartbeat which had only just started to slow, picked up again as he held your hand again. How many more times was this going to happen? Would you ever not freak out when he touched you now? Was that his intention?

You swallowed. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

You felt the muscles in his hand flex. “Yeah.”

You took in a shaky breath and let him hold your hand again, relishing in the feel of his fingers wrapped around yours for a moment, so warm and solid. The feel of his knee under your palm, a part of the body you had originally thought completely savoury until this very moment. After a moment too long of no sound except the roaring rain on the other side of the rock, you cleared your throat before you felt around you with your other hand. “I can’t see.”

“I can.”

You blushed profusely and hoped to the Force you didn’t look as bewildered as you felt. “Right. Of course.”

Crosshair slowly let go of your hand but made a point of keeping your empty palm on his knee, like he knew you needed to feel him close by.

The word intentional flashed in your mind.

Your stomach turned over at the gesture and you wiped your face with your other hand, shoulders beginning to shake. You heard Crosshair take off his pack and scramble through it, pulling out a small light that he usually placed on the end of his rifle. He clicked it on, and you shielded your eyes, before blinking your vision clear. Now you could see Crosshair’s face half illuminated, his brow was creased as he held out the light to you.

“Thanks,” you said, taking it from him. You pointed it around the cave and realised it was not so much a cave, but an oversized cavity in the side of the mountain. It wasn’t very deep, and it looked like its width was only a little bigger than Crosshair was tall. But it had saved your lives. You looked behind you, at the rocks that had fallen there.

“How are we going to get out of here?” you asked, running the light over the edge of the cave to see if there were any openings, but there were none substantial enough for you to try and get leverage to move the rocks that blocked you both in. Some rain fell through the cracks, the water landing on the rock as the storm carried on outside. That was good – at least you had some airflow.

“We need to wait for the storm to pass before we can see if comms will work to call the others,” Crosshair explained. “If we can’t contact them, we’ll have to wait for them to find us.”

The thought of being trapped in here for an undetermined amount of time made your heartbeat begin to race. “And if they can’t find us?”

“They will.” Crosshair’s conviction was comforting. You’d learnt that his belief in his brothers was unwavering, and never misplaced. If he believed that they would find them, then you did too.

You looked at him, careful not to shine the light in his sensitive eyes. His gaze was on you, and this might’ve been the first time you didn’t feel the need to avert your eyes. As intense as his gaze was, it was soft, and the brown of his eyes shined in the low light. Your hand was still on his knee and your eyes flicked down to it. You didn’t know if removing it would make it more awkward, or if leaving it there would. In the split-second moment, you were debating it in your head, with your body still shaking when Crosshair interrupted your thoughts.

“You’re shivering,” Crosshair said. “You need to get dry.”

You looked up at him and realised just how much you were shivering, now that the adrenaline had worn off. Your clothes were soaked through from the downpour, and the chill was sinking into your bones. You knew that if you didn’t get dry, you would get hypothermic.

You held out the light to Crosshair to take, which he did wordlessly. With shaky hands, you pulled your med pack off your back and placed it in front of you. Crosshair shined the light where you needed it as you searched through the items for a reflective blanket and when you found it, you pulled it out, the light bouncing off the shiny fabric. You looked at Crosshair, heat crawling up your neck.

“Um, I need to…”

Crosshair turned his head immediately but kept the light pointed in your direction. As quickly as you could, embarrassment flooding your trembling frame, you removed the layers of clothes you had on. You kept on the black GAR issue bodysuit you wore under all your clothes, even if it was slightly damp – you weren’t going to be completely bare with just a blanket between you and Crosshair. As you stripped everything off, you noticed the palms of your hands were grazed from the fall, and it hurt to move them as the skin stretched. You would deal with it once you weren’t shivering anymore, but the priority right now was to get warm.

Once you piled all your clothes together – there was no hope in everything drying whilst you were stuck in here, you pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped the reflective blanket around you tightly.

“Okay.” You said and Crosshair looked over and he squinted as the light bounced off the blanket, gaze searching your frame.

“What about your hands?”

“My hands?”

“You fell. I saw your palms are grazed.”

He was so perceptive, you wondered what else he saw that he never acknowledged. “I’ll patch them up after I stop shaking,” you told him, wrapping the blanket tighter.

Crosshair shook his head. “Aren’t you always telling us that injuries should be treated as soon as possible? Give me this—” he pulled the med pack in front of him and pointed the light inside.

“Crosshair—” You said as he dug around your pack, pulling out some antibac wipes and bacta patches. “You don’t have to. It’s not your job.”

Crosshair sent you a withering look before he placed the light between his teeth and gestured for you to show him your hands. You sighed and pulled your hands out of the blanket as best you could without it slipping off your shoulders. You turned your palms up, still slightly tremoring. They weren’t bleeding, but they were red and rubbed raw from the gravel you landed on. And they stung, but you were trying to be brave about it.

They were easily treatable, but your hands didn’t look pretty, that’s for sure.

Crosshair looked at them, adjusting the light in his mouth so they were completely illuminated before he shook his head with a frown, ripped open an antibac wipe, and cradled one of your hands in his.

 He met your eyes, a silent question in their gentle expression as his hand was poised, wipe ready to be drawn across your palms. You’d never seen him look at you like this before; this softly. It was so easy for your crush to bloom when he looked at you like this. You looked into his brown-eyed gaze, cheeks heated, and you nodded.

Crosshair gently placed the wipe on your palms, and you sucked in a breath as it stung the exposed skin. You felt the hand that cradled yours tighten and then he slowly began to clean the wound. With his attention on your hand, you could watch him unabashedly. The roles between you had now reversed. He was treating your hands as attentively as you treated his. The way he held your hand in his large palm was so gentle that your heart fluttered. You could feel the heat permeate from under his gloves into your skin, and you felt your hand slowly begin to still, the warmth returning to you with his touch. You were so touched at the way he was doing this for you, without you even asking. The way he insisted upon it. You hadn’t expected it after the medbay, and you ignored the little voice in the back of your head that asked what his intention was and simply savoured this moment of kindness from the man you were hopelessly crushing on.

He was as methodical as he was when cleaning his rifle, wiping the wound on one hand in even strokes that coated all the raw skin twice before he moved to the other hand, a new wipe this time.

You watched the way the light was poised between his teeth, and when his eyes flicked to yours for a moment, you averted your gaze back to your hands reflexively. You heard him breathe out through his nose harshly as he discarded the wipe and grabbed a bacta patch, pressing it between his palms to warm the liquid. You watched him, your eyes meeting his tattooed gaze once again as your hands remained suspended between you.

You thought back to the medbay, at how his fingers had curled around yours so naturally like it was instinctual; at the way he pulled his hands away so quickly and so forcefully it was like your hands had been burnt; at how fast he’d left you standing there, reeling from his actions. You tried to think of what his intention had been, and what you had done that had made him retreat.

“I’m sorry…for the other day.” Your voice was quiet in the small space. The storm continued to rage outside, but there was no way he hadn’t heard you. Crosshair looked at you, knowing exactly what it was you were referring to, and placed the bacta patches in one hand before removing the light from his mouth to talk, confusion etched into his brow.

“Why?”

You brought your lips between your teeth as your eyes flicked between his. “Because I upset you.”

Crosshair looked at you for a moment, an undiscernible expression passed over his half-shadowed face as your eyes stayed locked on each other. What you would give to know what he was thinking, what thoughts swirled in his head. Two months of watching him had barely scratched the surface – you wanted to know everything, to be privy to the innermost workings of his mind.

Crosshair was the first to break his gaze, shaking his head.

“You didn’t upset me.”

You frowned at him, but before you could ask him what he meant, he had placed the end of the light back between his teeth and started applying the bacta patches to your palms, activating the adhesive and smoothing them down over your hands with his thumbs. He held one of your hands in both of his, his fingertips touching the back of your hand as he ran his thumbs along the edges of the bacta patch. He pressed them gently down, and you could already feel the bacta doing its job. He did the same thing to the other side.

You watched him and you realised you’d never felt so cared for before. Never had you been held so gently, treated with such practised methodical hands that were also so soft and caring. Your heart swelled.

He took the light out of his mouth. “Bandages?”

You cleared your throat. “They’re in the side pocket.”

Crosshair took some out and started wrapping your hands up so the bacta patch would be more secure. He was so good at this. With the light dangling from his teeth, he circled the bandage around one hand, before he tied it off and tucked the end, and then the same on the other side.

When he was done, he dropped his hands from yours and removed the light from his teeth for the final time.

You looked at your hands. You couldn’t have treated them better if you had done it yourself. You hadn’t even had to coach him through what to do, and that impressed you. It only made the warmth in your chest grow, that hopeless crush in full bloom and only growing more hopeless by the minute.

“Thank you,” you told him and pulled your hands back underneath the blanket.

Crosshair hummed and then placed the light up on its base between you both and leaned it against the rocks behind you, so the beam of light shined upwards and illuminated where you at. You watched him then sit back against the rock, stretching his long legs out in front of him and closing his eyes, sighing. You sat facing him and brought the blanket around you tighter. You no longer shivered, but you still wanted to be warmer than you were. You stared at the side of his face, Crosshair’s profile half-lit in the light. You gazed at the brown of his skin, the sliver of his hair, the slope of his nose, the purse of his lips. You noted the stubble lining his angled jawline, and wondered what it would feel like against your lips. He was beautiful.

“Crosshair?”

He only hummed again in response.

You tightened your hold on the blanket as you worked up the courage to ask the question that was burning inside you. You couldn’t sit here anymore and not know.

“If I didn’t upset you…what happened?”

Crosshair opened his eyes, but he didn’t speak straight away. It was like he was searching for the right words, the best way to explain what had happened. You waited patiently for him to answer, your anxiety only building in anticipation.

Crosshair scraped the sole of his foot on the floor of the cavity as he brought one of his knees to his chest, resting his elbow on it. You swore you saw the tips of his ears turn pink, but you weren’t sure in this light. “I…crossed a boundary, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for acting the way I did.”

You blinked at him, confused. That was the last thing you expected him to say, especially his apology. “Boundary? What boundary?”

“Does it matter?” Crosshair grumbled, his voice scratching.

“It does to me,” you told him gently.

He turned quiet again. He avoided your eyes, instead choosing to focus on a spot on his knee, frown etching deeper into his brow. You wished he would look at you. All those times you caught him watching you, now you willed him to meet your gaze. If he looked at you, you would be able to tell him with your eyes that he could trust you with whatever it was he was having a hard time verbalising. That you wouldn’t judge him the way you knew so many people did. That you saw him, how underneath all that surly exterior was a kind heart who’d been wounded too many times. But he pointedly didn’t look at you, and all you wished to say would remain your secret.

Crosshair sighed, breaking the silence. “You’re our medic, that’s more important.”

That only puzzled you more. “More important than what?”

Quiet descended again, and after several moments, you tentatively reached out and placed a bandaged hand on his shoulder pauldron. His eyes darted to you, wide like they were before in that medbay, and he shrugged you off, his voice hard and frustrated, and his cheeks tinted pink.

“Just forget it. It won’t happen again.”

You watched him, and the way his hands were clenched on his knees. The way he wasn’t looking at you anymore. You recalled the panic in his eyes that you saw in the medbay when he allowed himself the comfort of holding your hand, and how he’d had that same expression just before. You thought back to all the times you caught him looking at you, the way his eyes never left you – even when it was just the two of you during check-ups. The way he brushed up next to you when standing in mission briefings. The way he didn’t hesitate to touch you when he was helping you or keeping you safe – because it was easier to hide behind those gestures than the curling of his fingers around yours alone in the medbay.

Intentional. Intentional. Intentional.

Oh. Oh.

You felt your heartbeat increase as heat rushed through your body, your stomach flipping over at the realisation. You bit the insides of your mouth to stop yourself from smiling before taking a breath. It all made sense now.

Crosshair wasn’t upset at you, he was embarrassed. The man who was so careful about everything he said and did, had one moment where he allowed himself to do something on a whim, and it had made him vulnerable. The impulse had revealed a secret part of himself he had always intended to keep hidden, and now it was out there, and he was embarrassed about it.

He was embarrassed because he thought you didn’t feel the same.

What a fool. A beautiful stupid fool.

Nerves rattled through your body, but you couldn’t sit here any longer and not let him know how you felt too.  “Crosshair…” you said his name softly, barely above a whisper.

Crosshair didn’t move, his eyes stayed glued to the middle distance, his hands still clenched into fists. You let out a breath and held out your bandaged hands. At the movement in his periphery, his eyes slid towards your hands and then up to your face. You flexed your fingers, a silent signal to place his hands in yours. His mouth turned into a line and just when you thought he wouldn’t, he slowly placed one of his tight fists in your palms.

You cradled his hand, the back of it resting in your bandaged palm. As best you could with your other bandaged hand, you began to manually unfurl his fingers, spreading them out slowly against yours. He let you, his hand as pliable as it usually was when you did this – there was no apprehension in this moment, only trust. You began to slowly massage his hand, pressing and kneading the joints of his knuckles and the centre of his palm. Neither of you spoke, and the storm continued its fury on the other side of the rock, but it very well could’ve been a parsec away with how intimate this moment was. All you could focus on was him. You could feel him watching you, wondering what you were doing, but you didn’t let his intense gaze pull you away. Not anymore.

Once you reached the end of the massage, you slid your palm over his, fingers lined up. You moved your hand slowly like he was a baby tooka you had to coax into your lap, you were giving him time to pull away. You let your fingers fall between the gaps of his and then curled your fingers down, so you held his hand.

You felt him tense as he realised what was happening, and you looked at him, but his eyes were locked on your intertwined hands. You waited to see if he pulled away, but he didn’t. His hand stayed firmly in yours, his fingers still splayed out – but his palm stayed pressed into yours. You heard him take in a shaky breath as he finally looked at you.

His eyes had softened on the edges, but his shoulders were still tense, and he had an expression that looked like he was pleading with you; begging you not to play with him like this.

You wouldn’t dream of it.

“Is…is this the boundary?” you asked. You felt Crosshair shift, and his voice came out in a rasp and his ears were definitely pink in this dim light.

“Yes.”

You looked down at your intertwined hands and squeezed his gently. “And me being your medic is more important than this?”

His reply came a second and a half later, all strained and breathy. “Yes.”

You looked at him, his tattooed gaze boring into your face. Ever the perceptive one, you could see he was trying to figure out what you were doing, and why you were doing it. You offered him a smile as you gave him the answer.

“This…this isn’t a boundary for me. Me being your medic has never mattered when it comes to this with you, and never will.”

You watched his eyes widen minutely, and if you didn’t know his face so well, you wouldn’t have noticed anything. But other than that almost indiscernible change in expression, Crosshair remained unmoving, his shoulders still rigid and his fingers still splayed out, not touching the back of your hand.

You searched his face and suddenly felt like you had completely misjudged his actions. Maybe he didn’t have the same crush on you, you did him. Maybe he had just held your hand by mistake, that what you thought had all been intentional, wasn’t actually intentional at all.

Your face burned and embarrassment flooded your body. You started to pull your hand away from him.

“But if it’s a boundary for you—”

But Crosshair’s fingers came down before you could rip your hand away, and he held your hand to his tightly, stopping your palm from leaving his. His hold was secure, warm and purposeful. There was nothing to hide behind anymore.

“It’s not,” he told you, his voice as soft as you’d ever heard it. He looked at you, and he was more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. You felt your heartbeat flutter. You knew this was hard for him, vulnerability of any kind wasn’t Crosshair’s comfort zone. You smiled at him as reassuringly as you could.

“Good.”

You felt his shoulders drop as his whole body relaxed. Your heart almost burst when you saw the corner of his mouth turn up at you – a smile that was yours and yours alone. You smiled at him, that warmth in your chest glowing brightly, making you feel so at home, you almost didn’t mind you were trapped in this space. You were with Crosshair, and that was enough.

You both sat there, holding hands in the torchlight. It was such an innocent kind of intimacy, but for you both, it held so much. So many unspoken feelings now known through the feel of your palms against each other. You never wanted to let go, and you suspected he didn’t either. You felt his finger muscles flex and you squeezed his hand. He lifted his thumb and placed it on top of yours, stroking it gently in a ministration so comforting you could’ve sobbed. You smiled at him, and he returned it.

A genuine Crosshair smile was a rare gift so few received. He kept them, saving them for the people he trusted and loved. To get one now, to see the corners of his eyes crinkle and the smile lines in his cheeks stretch in a closed-mouth smile, you felt honoured. You never imagined you would ever see Crosshair smile at you like this, to let you close like this – to let you close at all. The dim light of the cave had revealed the disappearing ink of his feelings, and it was extraordinary. You would tell him the full extent of what you felt for him in time, but for now, your feelings were wordlessly exchanged with just you two for witnesses.

You watched as Crosshair tentatively and wordlessly brought the back of your hand to his lips. With his tattooed gaze on you the whole time, he placed a lingering kiss there. You inhaled sharply at the gesture and the skin tingled under the bandage where he kissed you. The rain outside was heavy, but your heart felt light – like if you weren’t trapped in this space, you float away and join those rocks in the sky. You watched him pull away, brushing his lips on the spot for a moment before he let your hands drop between you.

“Was that okay?” he asked, his husky voice asked softly.

You chuckled, a grin stretching across your face. “Yes. More than okay.”

Crosshair hummed, his eyes smiling. “Good.”

The mountain shook again, and you looked around you frantically as dust from the cavity began to fall on you both. Crosshair pulled you against him, arms going around you as he shielded you to his chest. You held onto the edge of his chest plate so tight it dug into your fingers, your face pressed into his chest as he held you tightly. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to focus on the mixed smell of soap and wood of Crosshair instead of the panic that coursed through you. When the tremor stopped, you looked up at him, and him at you.

“You okay?” he asked

“Yeah,” you lifted your head but didn’t dare untangle yourself from Crosshair’s arms.

Crosshair adjusted the blanket on your shoulders, pulling it tighter around you. “The longer this storm goes on, the more danger we’re in.”

“Should we try the comms again?”

Crosshair let go of you briefly to grab his helmet and put it on. “Hunter, come in. Tech? Wrecker? Echo? Do you read?”

You waited. Crosshair’s arm tightened on you, but he let out a frustrated sigh and pulled the helmet off roughly, setting it down next to him. “Still nothing.”

You let your head rest on his shoulder as you sighed. “What do we do?”

“Wait.”

You groaned. Crosshair chuckled and you felt his hand run up and down your back soothingly. It was a simple gesture, but one that conveyed how much he cared for you. A man of few words, he let his actions show his feelings for you. And you had no doubts about it.

After a minute, you lifted your head to find him looking down at you intensely. You felt his arms tighten on you as this hand travelled down to your waist and stayed there. You blinked up at him, drawing your eyes across his face before they landed on his lips.

They had been so soft when they touched the back of your hand, what would they feel like pressed against your own? You’d dreamt about it, but you had a feeling that it would be nothing to the reality of it.

“N’edee?” His voice was quiet, but you feel the weight on them in your stomach.

“Hmm?” you hummed innocently, but there was nothing innocent about what was running through your mind right now.

“Can I test another boundary?” His tone was hesitant, careful as he leaned in a little closer to you.

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Which one?”

“This one.”

Crosshair slowly closed the distance between you and pressed his lips to yours. It was like your whole body lit up inside, igniting you so completely you were aware of every nerve ending you had. Your fingers tightened on his armour just as Crosshair languidly pulled away after too brief a moment. You stared at him, dazed with your mouth parted slightly, and in need of more.

“Well?” he asked, his voice like silk.

You were breathless. “Not a boundary. Kiss me as much as you like.”

“If you insist,” he smirked and pressed his lips to yours again.

Kissing Crosshair was an all-consuming kind of feeling. That magnetic pull he already had on you only seemed to intensify the minute his lips descended on yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he hoisted you onto his lap, your thighs falling on either side of his as you straddled him, and the blanket slipped off your shoulders – not that you needed it anymore with the heat that thrummed through you.

You melted into the kiss, and you were right – your dreams of his lips were nothing compared to the real thing. You felt the tickle of his breath on your cheek as you arched yourself closer to him. With just your body suit on, you could feel every hard ridge of his armour against you. His arms moved across your back, and you could feel his fingertips searing along your shoulder blades. His hot mouth moved against yours and you allowed yourself to nip at his lips. You felt him flinch before his lips stretched into a smile against yours, a chuckle vibrating his chest.

“Guess you do have some bite, N’edee,” he mumbled against your lips.

“Just for you,” you breathed, and he groaned into your mouth, kissing you deeper.

He was just as starved for you as you were for him, and you wondered how long exactly he’d been feeling like this towards you, but you’d ask such questions later. His mouth was heavenly, his lips like a caress against yours. Your lips parted and he took the chance to deepen the kiss as you dragged your hands up into his buzzed hair, feeling the short strands against your fingernails. And you felt just how skilled he was his tongue as it slid against yours, and you silently thanked his toothpicks for giving him the practice.

You’d never been kissed with such passion before, with such intention. Now, he was no longer embarrassed, he did not hold back his kisses and touches. That knowledge made it all the more thrilling as Crosshair pressed you into him, pulling your hips against his with hands that you knew to be tender, but now held with you with such desire you felt dizzy.

He moved his lips down your jawline to just below your ear, and you panted as you tightened your arms around him, rocking into him. He sucked the skin there, his tongue darting out and wetting the area. It made you moan so loudly you were glad no one else could hear how desperate you sounded.

“Crosshair,” you moaned.

You felt him smirk against your skin before he made his way back to your lips. Groaning into your mouth again, you felt his hands move from your hips to your ass and back up again, and you felt your body go into overdrive, pulsing with a wanting need. Where did he learn to kiss like this? You wanted to thank whatever Kaminaon training module taught him, or the illicit holos you knew Tech had stashed on the locked-down data drive you found a week after you joined them – whichever it was.

You were so lost in his kisses, the way they grew in fervour with each press against your skin, you almost didn’t hear the beeping of Crosshair’s comm in his helmet.

“Crosshair,” you said when you finally heard it, pulling away, but his mouth just found your neck instead. You patted his shoulder. “Crosshair, the comm.”

“What?” he said raggedly. His lips ceased their attentions, and he pulled back. His lips were all swollen and you smiled at the knowledge that was all you. You stayed perched in his lap and he grabbed his helmet and put it on. You could hear the other voice when you were this close to him.

“Crosshair, come in.” It was Hunter.

“Copy, Hunter,” Crosshair said, and you mentally applauded him for not sounding as breathless as you would’ve.

“Are you and N’edee okay?”

Crosshair’s hand squeezed your thigh, and you squirmed on top of him, smiling. “For the moment. We’re trapped on the mountain. The storm caused a cave-in, and we can't get out.”

“We’ll lock in on your signal and fly to your location. Stand by.” You realised then the rain and thunder had stopped, and that the storm had now passed.

“Copy,” Crosshair said before he removed his helmet and placed it next to him again, and you both looked at each other. He gripped your hips. “They’re on their way in the Marauder. Wrecker will be able to push the rocks out of the way, and we’ll be free.”

You breathed in, relieved help was coming. “I didn’t even realise the storm had passed,”

“Well, we were busy,” Crosshair snided.

“Right,” you laughed lightly.

Crosshair looked away from you for the first time since everything changed between you, and his hands on your hips loosened. You frowned as you watched his once open expression, slowly begin to close off again in the dim light. He looked uncertain, all in his own head again and you realised that he was worried – worried that this moment together was but a brief interlude in which you got caught up in the danger of the situation. You wanted to shake his shoulders and tell him he was being absurd, how he could think such a thing after all you just said and did. But you didn’t, because like baby tooka, Crosshair needed gentle reassurance; that his vulnerability and his feelings were not being played with.

Later, when you had more time and were back on the Marauder and tucked away in the medbay just the two of you again, you would tell him just how much he had nestled his way into your heart. That your crush was much more than that, that you saw all of him, and though you were still learning to decipher the riddles he was made of, you never wanted to stop. That you saw all his intentions, and now yours was to hold his heart in your bandaged hands the way he held yours.

But for now, in your final moments alone with him before his brothers rescued you both, you locked your eyes on him and gently grabbed the hands that had slackened on your hips, linking your fingers together once more. You watched his eyes find yours, his brows slanted at the ends as he looked at you with all this apprehension. You brought his knuckles to your lips and kissed them, lips lingering there as you let the gesture convey wordlessly your intention to keep nurturing what was between you for as long as he let you. That this didn’t end once you were both bathed in sunlight again.

“I hope we’ll be busy again later? And many laters after that too?”

Crosshair’s shoulder relaxed and you smiled as the corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, his eyes smiling as he squeezed your hands once more. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

banner art by @vimse thank you reading! if you made it this far, thank you! i appreciate it so much! this is the longest standalone fic i've ever written!

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom @hopelessromantic727

TAGLIST FORM

[weemssapphic]

So I have a short, angsty Larissa fic and a longer Brienne fic that’s honestly very niche both ready to go…

[noodyl-blasstal]

18 and 50 🥰💕💕💕🍰🎂🧁🚨

Six months seems like a perfectly reasonable response time... right? RIGHT?

The prompts were: 18 & 50 We both showed up alone to the couples cake decorating class, so obviously-... and Fighting? No, no, we're having a great time arguing about this.

Enjoy below or on Ao3

---

Kravitz hates his colleagues, Kravitz hates them so hard and double and backwards. The power of his hatred is turned up to eleven. He’s going to switch the office coffee to decaf, he’s going to move everything round in the fridge, he’s going to take all the good name brand parcel tape and replace it with the shit stuff that sticks to you more than whatever you’re trying to wrap up. But he’s not. Not really. He’s going to walk into the couples cake decorating class which they didn’t mention he needed a plus one for, and he’s going to have a ‘marvellous’ time. Just like Lydia said he should when she waved him away earlier. But this time, this time he’s not going to believe them when they say they ‘forgot’ or ‘misread the ticket’, because Kravitz is not gullible. Maybe that really did happen the first four times, but five is suspicious. Five stinks of deception. Five are on Craggy Island and they know someone’s been fucking things up for them on purpose.

“Hello!” Says the wall of a man at the door in a worryingly joyful tone. It looks like he’s working hard not to grab Kravitz in a hug. Kravitz appreciates the effort. He does not like to be touched. Lydia says it’s because he needs to work on his social skills. Kravitz thinks that it’s probably because she and Edward need to learn about boundaries. “What’s your name? I’m Magnus!”

Kravitz hands over his ticket with a tight smile.

“Ah, yes, I have you on the list, a last minute addition! Welcome Cravat.”

“It’s Kravitz.” Says Kravitz, trying not to be terse, and failing hideously. They know exactly how much he hates it when people call him that. Namely them, because no one else does. But this isn’t Magnus’ fault, he seems very nice and very excited about event administration, and not responsible for the terrible people Kravitz needs to not work with anymore.

Magnus’s face falls. “Oh… they spelled it twice on the phone…” He gives Kravitz a searching look. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure what my own name  is?”

“I’m not judging you, sometimes people forget things. I don’t mind.” Magnus shoots him a disarmingly encouraging smile and the fighting winds leave his sails.

“I’m sure that my name is Kravitz.” Says Kravitz in the most measured tone he can muster. Maybe if he explains… he can just practise telling someone how awful they are. He’ll never ever have to see Magnus again. “My colleagues are complete… they’re not very… they like to… it’s a joke.” He finishes lamely. It’s fine. He can practise the conversation in the shower and then write a little script before he tells anyone else.

“Okay then…” Magnus pauses, shape of the “C” in his mouth. Kravitz’s lips draw into a thin line. “...Kravitz. Welcome to cake club! Tonight we’re decorating with the very best boys. Is your partner here yet?”

Kravitz’s mouth gets even tighter. “It’ll just be me.”

“At the couples decorating class?” Magnus asks like Kravitz is being ridiculous.

“Yes at the couples decorating class.” Kravitz smiles his very best customer service smile and hopes for the best.

“Okay.” Magnus says slowly. “Yeah, we can work with that.” Magnus gives him a once over. “The suit will definitely help.”

Kravitz has a distinct feeling that he’s being appraised against a firm set of criteria.

“Yeah. You’ll be fine. Come on. Julia will be starting soon and you’re the last one here.” Magnus shoos him through the door.

Kravitz is 30 minutes early. There’s no way he can be the last one here! He’s never late! He…’s going to switch out Edward’s sticky tack for the one that feels all weird and over stretchy. Surely it’s bad enough for him to show up without a person and incorrectly named, he doesn’t need lateness to complete the trifecta. They’re twins, they should only be allowed to do two bad things in one go, that’s only fair.

“Here you go.” Magnus points to a station with a large, intimidating array of tools which put him in mind of a surgery table, a stack of colourful bags thankfully pre-loaded with icing, and two aprons covered in hearts set next to each other.

“I’ll just…” Magnus leans past him to grab one of them and laboriously inch it away as if Kravitz won’t see as long as the movements are slow.

“You too, huh?” Asks the man on the adjoining station. He’s alone too. Although he appears to be wearing both aprons, one on the front and one on the back.

“Yep.” Kravitz tries not to make eye contact. He doesn’t need pity.

“On purpose?” The man asks.

“No.” Maybe if he keeps his answers short the man will realise this conversation isn’t going to happen.

“I did.” Kravitz sees the man shrug out of the corner of his eye. “Societal expectations can suck it, couples decorating class? Taako’s a baller chef, just wait, you’re going to be amazed by how many arms I have.”

“Is it more than two?” Kravitz turns to look, immediately forgetting his previous strategy.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” The man winks dramatically.

He’s handsome, very handsome. Dirty blonde hair in a plait down his back, a light scrub of stubble across his jaw, and so many jangly earrings and necklaces that Kravitz can’t help but stare.

“Ah fantastic idea!” The woman at the front of the class, Julia, Kravitz assumes, beams as Magnus points at the two of them. “As you two are already getting to know each other, why don’t you work together?” She smiles like she’s doing them a favour.

Everyone turns to look.

Kravitz doesn’t want to be perceived right now, not for this reason. He doesn’t need everyone to look at him and know he’s here alone and needs to be paired up with someone while all these couples came together on purpose. His face grows hot and his mouth clamps closed and his fingers definitely aren’t working and he doesn’t want to check in with his legs about it.

There’s a horrible screeching noise.

“Taako!” Julia winces. “Could you…”

The rest of her sentence is drowned out by another horrible screech as he laboriously moves his stool.

“Just following instructions.” The man who must be called Taako? (Surely not?) calls cheerfully as he settles down next to Kravitz

“Right. Well, now that you’re done…” 

The stool screeches again. 

“Taako!”

“Sorry.” He doesn’t look even a little bit sorry.

Kravitz stifles a laugh. As much as he appreciates the interruption he doesn’t want to get tarred with the same brush. He refuses to get detention. Can you get cooking class detention? That would probably be a good thing, he needs all the help he can get… so maybe they’d ask him to leave early instead? Either way, he doesn’t want to do anything wrong enough to find out.

“If you’re done?” Julia levels a frankly terrifying stare their way and the stool screecher sits up straight and attentive.

“Hello everyone! I’m Julia Burnsides, and this is my lovely assistant Magnus Burnsides.”

Magnus waves happily at them all then delivers a positively goopy smile to Julia. She returns it. They’re disgusting. Kravitz hates them. (Kravitz envies them deeply.)

“Tonight we’re going to turn this…” Julia holds up a scandalously nude cupcake. 

“Into this!” Magnus shouts, enthusiastic and  loud enough to make Kravitz jump slightly in his seat. 

Taako doesn’t disguise his laugh.

Kravitz would glare at him, but he’s been reliably informed it’s not polite, so he settles for shushing Taako and making sure he’s exuding ‘Paying Attention In Class Like It’s His Job’ energy. In fact, it is his job, it’s both of their jobs, because they entered into the education contract by signing up for the class even if it was under false pretences and someone else signed up on his behalf as a joke.

A sharp elbow digs him in the ribs. “What do you think the cake’s supposed to be?” The man is, at least, keeping his voice down slightly, no one turns round to tell them off.

Kravitz doesn’t turn round. He’s being a good student. Also, he has absolutely no idea what the thing Magnus is proudly brandishing at them is. Maybe a tractor?

“This is a dog that Magnus made.” Julia adds helpfully. Kravitz has to assume the bemusement which is likely apparent on his face is also mirrored across the other attendees.

“Here’s another version.” She holds up a much more dog-like dog. “We’re going to take you through step by step.” Julia smiles so reassuringly that Kravitz is almost convinced he’s going to be able to make his very own dog tractor.

“First off, you’ll need to come to the front in turn and get your cupcakes. If we could have this table first?” Julia points at the front left bench, as far from them as they can possibly get. Are they being punished? Are there going to be worse cakes for them because they broke the rules and came alone?

“Don’t worry.” The man says conspiratorially and slides a tupperware onto the table. “I brought my own.”

“What?” Kravitz isn’t sure that’s legal. Can he go down for this? Existing in the presence of contraband cake might summon the bakery police.

“They’ll just have vanilla. These are salted caramel, mocha, strawberry - with the proper stuff, you know, Taako doesn’t fuck with extract only nonsense - and vanilla but it has beans so you can’t say that it’s the same as the ones here.” He cracks the lid as he talks and glorious cakey smells waft out.

“Are we allowed?” Kravitz asks quiet and serious. Maybe there’s a rule he doesn’t know about. Maybe Lydia and Edward forgot to mention it was BYOC… that seems about right honestly.

“Doesn’t matter, does it, kemosabe, because we’ve done it already.” The man shrugs as if he’s not worried about getting a bad mark in cake.

“Ah.” Kravitz says, not entirely ready to make himself an accomplice.

“Here, try one. What’s your poison? You seem like a guy who caffeinates.” The man holds a chocolatey, coffee-y treat his way. “Go on, it’ll blow your mind, Taako guarantees it.”

Kravitz really wants the cake. It smells amazing and his lunch disappeared from the fridge yet again so all he’s had to eat was the sad, crumbly granola bar he found at the back of his desk drawer…

The man, who does in fact seem to be called Taako starts to withdraw his hand. “Well, if you don’t want it then I guess.”

“Wait!” Kravitz grabs it quickly. It’s not polite, but he’s not risking missing out. “You’re sure you have enough?”

“Cha’boy brought plenty. Taako can’t believe you’d doubt him like this. We’ve been together for 16 years, happily married for 15 years and fifty one weeks of that time, and still you don’t trust me.”

“We had a bad week?” Kravitz breaks off a piece of the cake.

Taako looks offended. “No!” 

“But you said…”

“We got married a week after we met.” Taako says firmly. “Now eat your cake, snugglepuss.”

Kravitz winces. “Snugglepuss?” 

“That’s what you’ve got the issue with? Not our timeline?” 

“Well we were just so in love.” Kravitz refuses to be beaten in imagination table tennis. “How could I do anything but ask you to marry me after that glorious week of cross country skiing? I bought the ring on our lunch break on day two.”

“Cross country skiing?” Taako cocks an eyebrow, but he’s still smiling. Not in the mean way either, the way when sometimes you think you’re playing the same game, but you’re very much not and they’re just gathering data to inform exactly how much they’re going to ostracise you (it’s lots, it’s always lots.)

“I loved the way your thigh muscles strained when you tried to get out of the hole.” Kravitz tries very hard not to think about Taako in a skin tight ski suit. He’s never been skiing, but his brain is doing a great job of thinking up some things he definitely shouldn’t be paying attention to.

He shoves the cake in his mouth to distract himself.

It’s incredible.

He doesn’t know the technical terms, but it’s got all the cake things, the taste and the texture and the… crumb. That’s definitely a cake thing.

“These are magic.” Kravitz tries to force himself to chew his next bite slower and actually savour it. 

He fails. 

Taako’s looks at him again, he really looks at him, drags his eyes slowly down to Kravitz’s toes and back up again, then grins.

“I’m Kravitz.” Kravitz says, because he can’t think of anything better and it seems polite. 

“You sure are, kemosabe.” Taako winks an exaggerated overblown wink. “Cha’boy’s Taako, but you figured that out for yourself.”

Kravitz shouldn’t feel proud, but he does.

“Now that everyone has their cake we need you all to find the nozzle which will make the kind of hair you want your dog to have.” Julia holds up one of the nozzles which is full of holes. “For example, this one could be a pomeranian running.” 

Kravitz writes a question mark in his pocket notebook after ‘pomeranian running’. It’s a tiny rebellion but Taako snorts gently next to him and it feels good. Well, mostly. Kravitz hopes Taako’s laughing at the concept and not him.

Taako picks up a nozzle.

“I’d like you to all pick up your nozzle and try piping with the practice bag, use the greaseproof paper to get the motion. You’ll be looking for something like this.” She pipes a perfectly windswept dab of buttercream fur onto her parchment.

Taako’s not piping onto the parchment. 

Taako’s piping directly onto the cake.

“Taako!” Kravitz whispershouts like his life depends on it, because it does. Julia looks strong.

Taako doesn’t acknowledge him.

“Taako, that’s not the parchment.” Kravitz, helpfully, nudges it towards him. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding. Maybe they won’t go down for willful buttercrime, they’ll get a reduced sentence because it was an accident.

“Rules guy, are we?” Taako’s still piping.

Kravitz is, in fact, a rules guy. Why would they exist if they weren’t important?

Taako stops piping.

“Taako!” Kravitz doesn’t shout, but he wants to.

“That’s cha’boy’s handle.”

“That’s a fish.”

Taako looks offended. “It’s a horse.”

Kravitz does the weird snorty laugh he usually saves for home.

“Honse.” Taako points at the cake. “Look at his beautiful flowing mane.”

“That’s a fin.”

“Horse fin.”

“Horses don’t have fins.”

“Fish don’t have manes.” Taako says like he’s winning at something.

He’s not.

“If he’s a horse then where are his teeth?”

“Oh, Taako sees your game, you think horses have to be happy all the time, do you? Got to pander to your human whims and do a nice big horsey smile so you can appreciate what a nice horse life they have? What if his wife just left him? What then, my guy? Does he still have to smile for you?”

“He clearly left his horse wife.” Kravitz shrugs nonchalantly.

“Why?” Taako leans in, desperate for the gossip.

“Because he was a fish, and she was a horse, can I make it any more obvious?”

“She had a trunk, and he didn’t neigh.”

“What more can I say?” Kravitz mutters quickly before tackling the bigger question, because he’s a gentleman. “Horses don’t have trunks. I’m deeply concerned about your equine knowledge.”

“Maybe you’re the one that isn’t as much of a horse specialist as you thought, hmmm? Ever think about that? Maybe, just maybe, you’re not Dr Horse; King of Horses.”

Kravitz tries very hard not to be offended, but it’s not nice to be doubted. “I’ve got three PhDs in horse, actually, it’s Dr Dr Dr Horse, King of Horses to you.”  

Taako picks up the piping bag again. “Well what if…” He pipes a glorious un-horselike appendage.”

“That’s a…?”

Taako squidges the bag again.

“Horn.” Taako says with confidence.

“Two horns.”

“Yep.” Taako looks pleased with himself. “Horse!” 

“And you think that they have…”

“Garyl does.” Taako says firmly. “Are you going to tell him to his beautiful horse face that he isn’t one?”

“No.” Kravitz says, because he’s not. Mostly because there’s no chance he’s telling Taako to his very handsome face that he’s very bad at cake art. Or that the Longhorn Cowfish exists.

“What’s that?” Taako’s wielding the bag again.

“Tentacle.” Taako’s tongue is poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates and it makes Kravitz’s chest ache with longing for… something. The last of the evening sun is streaming through the window, Taako’s glowy and glorious and Kravitz longs to take a photo just so he can keep the moment in his pocket. It feels good, it feels like they’re on the same side, it’s them against the cake establishment. It’s been a long time since he felt like he had an ally.

“It’s a horse tentacle?” Kravitz asks, just in case there’s a chance Taako is pivoting to something more sea themed.

“Horse tentacle.” He confirms.

“Taako, horses don’t have…” Kravitz thinks he should probably be exasperated, worried that whether it’s a horse or a fish, or an octopus, it’s definitely not right. Not that he’s an expert in animal maths, but horse + fish probably doesn’t equal dog, even if you squint.

“Then why does this one?” Taako’s raw confidence is terrible and wonderful to behold. Maybe Kravitz can learn from him. Is this how he defeats Lydia and Edward? Can he ask Taako if they can meet up again so he can learn? ‘If I buy you a drink or three can you teach me your raw charisma to help me deal with my shit colleagues please?’ surely can’t fail…

“Is everything okay here?” Julia stands in front of their counter, brow furrowed like she’s worried. To be fair, they definitely haven’t got anything that looks like fur happening.

“Yep.” Taako smiles up at her like he isn’t busy creating an abomination of both buttercream and nature.

“And you’re okay…” She takes a moment to remember his name. “Kravitz?”

“Oh, yes. Everything’s fine.” Kravitz lies, because Garyl needs a vet, or three, a whole team of specialists.

“It didn’t seem fine when you were fighting.” Julia looks pointedly at Taako.

“We’re not fighting!” Taako’s indignant, offended at the accusation. “We were just discussing taxonomy.”

Julia turns to Kravitz. “If you need us to find you a different station?”

“Did I do something wrong?” Oh, oh no, Kravitz straightens in shock. He isn’t this person. He’s good at classes, he’s good at teacher interaction, he has never ever ever had a bad grade and he doesn’t plan to start now.

“What? No.” Kravitz is very used to the perplexed expression that Julia is wearing. People direct it at him a lot. He wishes he wasn’t so familiar.

“She thinks I’m bothering you, handsome.”

“You’re not bothering me!” Kravitz replies before he processes the second part of the sentence. Taako thinks he’s handsome! He said it so he must mean it.

“Well you’re not bothering me. In fact I think you should not bother me after class and take Taako out for a drink. Cha’boy has some theories about how giraffes look that’re going to blow your mind.”

Kravitz resolutely doesn’t think about how there is another thing he would let Taako blow. “Yes… Yes absolutely,  I’d like that a lot Taako.”

“Gross.” Julia says happily. “Glad we could necessitate…” She pauses and waves her hand between them “... whatever this is with your fucked up fish cake.”

“It’s a horse!” They say indignant, unjustified, and perfectly synchronised.

[milfsloverblog]

Respite in Heaven (NSFW)

Pre-fall!Lucifer x angel!reader

A/N: This fic was inspired by another one of my favourite Ghost song which you can listen to here (the very last part is a work of art). I love Lucifer. I love to think that they had an Angel lover back in Heaven. And I love to think that the only reason they still dream of Heaven is for that lost love. Anyway, enjoy! <3 ps: it’s more like pre-fall, mid-fall and post-fall Lucifer.

AO3 link in title

“We shouldn’t be here!” You half-whispered half-giggled as Lucifer dragged you through the tall grass.

“Says who?” The Lightbringer answered without ever turning around, their hand tightly holding onto yours.

“You know who!” You said as you reached your favourite spot under the pomegranate tree.

“I do not care what God thinks, not when I have the sweetest of all angels in my arms.” Lucifer smiled as they helped you sit down by the tree and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“You should not be saying these things,” You whispered, knowing He had ears everywhere. “Nothing escapes Him, you ought to be more careful.”

“I would say it to His face if it meant you and I wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”

“I know, Lucifer, I know.” You pushed a soft smile, brushing your fingers through their messy white curls.

Lucifer closed their eyes, revelling in the softness of your touch for a moment before eventually pulling you on their lap. One of their hands snaked under your white linen dress, slender fingers running up the expanse of your thigh.

The way your brows furrowed didn’t go unnoticed by the Lightbringer and they tutted lightly.

“Something is worrying you,” They said, their fingertips reaching the apex of your thigh and grazing against your bare core. “Talk to me, my Angel.”

You knew you weren’t their Angel, and you would never be. You belonged to God, and so did they. But you wanted to, you wished to be theirs so badly. And that’s exactly what you were worried about.

“We could break away together.” Lucifer whispered in your ear, two of their fingers slipping between your folds.

You couldn’t help the moan that tore itself from your throat, your hips bucking as you searched for more friction.

“I would be the shadow,” They went on, dipping their first knuckles into your wetness before lazily drawing circles on your clit. “And you will be the light.”

And it was oh-so tempting, to give up on everything you had and everything you knew, only to run away with Lucifer. But you could never, no matter how good they made you feel and how strongly your heart beat for them.

“W-we can’t-“ You closed your eyes, your head growing dizzy as the Angel continued their ministrations between your legs. You moaned again, quickly hiding your face in Lucifer’s neck to keep yourself quiet.

Lucifer wrapped their pristine white wings around you, shielding you from the outside world.

It was no secret that the Lightbringer was God’s favourite Angel. And it couldn’t have been made more obvious, you simply had to look at how beautiful God had made them. They were the tallest Angel in all of Heaven, had the whitest and largest wings, and the softest features in the whole realm. And somehow, you had been lucky enough to catch their eye.

“Are you not happy here?” You asked, carefully pulling away from them. “Don’t we have all we need? All we want?”

“I don’t know, do we?” Lucifer cocked their head, pushing their fingers inside you up to the hilt.

You let out a pitiful strangled cry that had your lover’s lips pull in a proud smile.

“Nothing ever lasts forever, my Angel.” The Lightbringer whispered before attaching their lips to your neck and sucking on your pulse point, their fingers dragging in and out of your heat in loud, wet, and you dared to think, sinful sounds.

“We-I-can’t, I can’t-“ You were too far gone to even think of anything else but the pleasure building behind the navel that you didn’t possess. “God will be furious.”

“Don’t you see, sweet Angel?” You swore Lucifer’s voice was now tainted with bitterness. “That the God we hail is nothing but the Wizard of Oz?!”

You didn’t know what that meant, or who the Wizard of Oz was, but that was the last of your concerns at the time.

“Please, Luci-“ You whined, your hips moving on their own accord to meet the Angel’s thrusts.

“We will break away together,” Lucifer repeated, curling their fingers inside you and quickly finding your sweet spot to rub. “Say yes to me.”

“Y-Yes!” You cried out when the coil finally snapped inside your belly, making you see stars as you mindlessly swore allegiance to the Morningstar.

“Good,” Lucifer whispered barely audibly as they helped you ride your orgasm. “We will go softly into the night.”

Your head fell forward, forehead pressed against the other angel’s alabaster skin. You weren’t sure, but you swore you could hear distant thunder then. Whether it came from the outside world or from within Lucifer’s chest still remains a mystery.

-

Only you were right when you said Lucifer ought to be careful with their words, for God had ears everywhere. There they stood a day later, God and Lucifer, facing the entirety of the realm on top of the holy mountain.

“You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created till wickedness was found in you.” Your creator’s voice echoed through heaven. “Through your widespread trade, you were filled with violence, and you sinned. And so you shall be driven in disgrace from Heaven. I expel you, guardian cherub, from the Holy mountain. Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor.”

You could feel your heart thumping loudly against your ribcage as you realised what was about to happen. Lucifer, however, never wavered. They kept their chin high and looked right into their creator’s eyes as they spoke.

“You shall be thrown to the earth, a spectacle of you will be made before kings. By your many sins and dishonest trade, you have desecrated your sanctuaries. May a fire come out from you, may it consume you and reduce you to ashes on the ground in the sight of all who are watching.” God added, slightly turning to address the crowd of angels. “Shall any of you be sharing Lucifer’s deviancy, speak now.”

You didn’t even think twice before moving to take a step forward when Lucifer’s head suddenly snapped towards you.

“No.” They answered, and you knew it was said to you more than to God. You exchanged a look with the Morningstar, your head shaking from side to side as if to convince them to come clean and beg for forgiveness. But Lucifer only smiled and turned back to face their creator. “No, it is just me.”

“So be it.” God nodded and with a single wave of His hand, Lucifer was sent tumbling from the edge of the Holy mountain.

“No!” You whispered in horror and made to run towards the edge only to be held back by small cherubim hands.

The silence was deafening as the angels mourned the loss of one of their own, each wondering who would be next to suffer this fate.

You didn’t know how long you had stayed there, kneeling by the edge of the mountain and waiting, hoping that Lucifer would find a way to climb their way back up. But they never did. And you had eventually stopped hoping.

—

"What power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream…of Heaven?" Lucifer’s eyes filled with tears, their lips slightly quivering before their mask fell back into place. Morpheus had struck a nerve and he knew it all too well.

“One day, Morpheus, we shall destroy you.” The Lightbringer promised. But not today. No, not today for Lucifer wasn’t ready to part with their dreams.

And so, as always since centuries, that night somewhere in Hell, the Devil dreams of an Angel. And as always, somewhere in Heaven, an Angel dreams of the Devil.

————————————————————————

tag list: @weemssapphic @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @pro-weems-places @readingtheentrails @catechristiesstuff @kimiinou

[shslbunnylover]

★★★𝙎𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙖 𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 (12 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙁𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙢𝙖𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮 3: 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙛𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮)★★★

Character: Larissa Weems

Taglist: @inlovewithgreta (Message me to be a part of the taglist until I get a page set up!!)

Trigger warnings (DL, DI): Flirty behavior, alcohol consumption

Genre: Fluff

A/n: Third day is rolling right along with the lovely Larissa Weems! I had so much fun writing this!!

Word count: 1.6k

...

...

Covering your left ear in hopes of draining the noise around you from your hearing, you felt yourself becoming slightly more anxious about having said yes to the staff holiday party at Nevermore. You were well-liked by the students and the other staff. However, you still felt a sense of anxiety wash over you the moment you entered the room.

Looking down at your dress that fell just below your knees, you placed your hands over the other and made your way towards the drinks with a smile on your lips, waving your greeting to the familiar faces around you.

The air around you smelled of cinnamon and sugar cookies, making your body feel like it was melting its nervous shell and leaving only a comfortable and carefree interior. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you grabbed the ladle out of the eggnog, pouring the white liquid into your glass until it was full.

Bringing the glass to your lips, the liquid fell down your throat, causing the tips of your ears once chilled by the cold outside air to warm up.

"This is pretty good," You thought out loud, going to grab a sugar cookie from the large plate next to the bowl of eggnog.

"I'm glad you think so, I made it myself," A regal voice with a familiar British accent spoke, her words turning into a chuckle as you jumped in surprise.

"Ms. Weems!" You exclaimed, putting a hand over your chest as you took a breath in between a couple of laughs. "You scared me!"

"Please darling, call me Larissa, we've known each other for a few years now," Larissa smiled, walking closer to you.

You blushed softly, looking up at the taller woman.

"Yes Larissa," You replied meekly, feeling her dominant and powerful presence washing over you, her aura only increasing due to your feelings for the woman.

"Even when you call me by my first name, you find a way to make it formal. Don't you?" She chuckled, her laugh sounding soft and sweet as it always did, the sound of it had pushed you into a lovesick state.

You nodded, your eyes finding their way down to your feet, attempting to make yourself feel like a normal person for a moment.

"Look back up at me sweetling," Larissa commanded, wanting to see your face again.

You obliged almost immediately, your heart pounding at 1000 miles an hour at the blonde's overwhelming presence.

"T-The party is very nice," You tried to change the subject, hoping to calm down the raging blush on your face.

"It is, but I have a question for you, Y/n," The taller woman stated, taking a sip of her warm eggnog before placing it back on the table.

"Yes?" You asked, looking at her with curious eyes.

"Do I make you nervous?"

You froze, looking at her with a blush scattered across your cheeks and nose, you weren't sure what to say in reply.

You seemingly were silent for a couple minutes, as Larissa cupped your cheek to knock you out of your thoughts.

"Sweetling, are you alright? That question didn't make you uncomfortable did it darling?"

Her pet names were like music to your ears, but you weren't sure how to continue the melody, often ending it with stutters and blush.

"I... I don't know," You replied honestly, "I don't know what it is,"

"That's quite alright snowflake," Larissa nodded, turning her head to the other staff and then back to you. "I should leave you to the party," She smiled, walking away, and leaving you flustered.

You stood there, before a wave of confidence washed over you.

You grabbed her hand, placing your glass on the table to reach further.

"Wait-" You quickly stopped her, retracing your hand with a blush once her blue eyes went back to face you with surprise. "I wanted to give you the present I got you, would you like to see it?" You nervously asked, your mind thinking of any excuse to be near the blonde.

"Oh snowflake, you didn't have to get me anything just because we did a whole Secret Santa event, you know that," Larissa chuckled, "But I know whatever you got me is amazing," She continued, her lips forming into a smile as the two of you walked over to a little Christmas tree where you had put her gift.

You pulled up a small box that was perfectly prepared, the wrapping paper was a beautiful light blue and paired with a white snowflake gift tag that matched the tiny decals on the paper.

"Merry Christmas Larissa," You smiled, handing it to her as your eyes traveled their way up her body.

"Thank you Y/n," She smiled, taking the paper gently off of the box to reveal a small jewelry box.

"Go on! Open the box!" You encouraged her with a soft smile on your lips.

The blonde simply chuckled, quickly opening the velvet box to reveal a very luxurious set of opal dangle earrings.

"Y/n..." She trailed off, her eyes widening as her fingers grazed over the gemstones. "These are beautiful...!"

You beamed in reply, your hands clenching into fists out of your excitement.

"I got you the earrings in opal because it's your birthstone!"

Larissa looked at you with wonderment in her eyes.

"How did you know my birthday? I don't tell that to anyone," She asked, still amazed by how thoughtful you were.

"I asked around," You smirked, "Do you like them?"

"Like them? Darling, I love them! You didn't have to get me these!" The older woman replied, moving her vision from you to the earrings.

"I'd do anything for you," You said, your smirk forming into a more lovesick and warmth-filled smile.

The principal paused for a moment, matching your facial features as she took your hand in her own, shutting the box.

"Is that so? Then you would be willing to answer another question, right?"

You nodded.

"Yes, what is it?" You questioned her, tilting your head slightly to the side.

"If I kissed you, would you reciprocate?"

You froze for a minute, just like you had when she asked you a question before, but something about this moment didn't feel the same.

You pushed your touching hands together, fingers intertwining with each other as you pulled her in for a passionate kiss.

Her hand found its way to your cheek, pulling you further into her lips and her taste of sugar cookies and eggnog.

Pulling away from her to catch your breath, Larissa looked at you once again, her ruby red lips placing themselves on your cheek to leave a slight mark in their wake.

"I guess I have my answer then," She chuckled, watching you break out into a huge blush over what had just occurred.

"I didn't think this would ever happen- At a staff holiday party nonetheless-!" You covered your face with your hands, only for them to be pulled down by the woman in front of you.

"Well," Larissa replied, "Strange things happen during the holidays, don't they?"

"Yeah," You nodded, "I didn't think pretending to be your Secret Santa was the way I'd woo you over,"

Larissa's eyes widened slightly, before she broke out into a soft laughter, placing another soft kiss on your cheek.

"And I didn't think that a good girl like yourself could do such a naughty thing," She teased, her lips falling to yours once more.

...

If you enjoyed reading this, don't forget to like, reblog and comment! Thank you and you are loved <3

-Akira