#10k drabbles!

[aeyumicore]

☾ .⭒˚ heartstring symphony ♡ xavier x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: xavier x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, pwp, pwf (so so so sooo many feelings like a whole ocean of feelings) 

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 10.1k (oh lawd)

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, tiny reference/spoiler to chapter 4 of the main story (grandma and caleb), references to xavier/overall lads lore, first time sex (not virginity loss), explicit sexual content, pure pure filth but also so fluffy and emotional, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving and m!receiving), lots of making out, pussy job, finger fucking, tongue fucking, cum as lube, references to xavier’s evol, slight use of y/n, switch!xavier, slight predator/prey play, somewhat vanilla

⋆.˚ ☾ video link: not necessary to watch in order to read and enjoy, but i highly recommending watching the memory for context and a visual for the fic! https://youtu.be/U-OanLwbSVE?si=Um0NFib7gQOTGrLq

☾ .⭒˚ a/n: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY BABIESSSSS COME GET YOUR FOOD. oof this one is a doozy. based off the memory ‘heartstring symphony’ with xavier, there’s a lot of small changes to the progression and the dialogue, but its largely on par with the original memory! there’s a lot of ‘plot’ building as this memory is a bit long and i really wanted to incorporate parts from the beginning, middle, and end so i ended up needing to write for the entire thing. the build up is kinda important to the smut but you can definitely still just skip to the smut (ya filthy hoes)!!

100% dedicated to my bestie who is the downest baddest bitch for xavier!

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾

The sunlight bounces off the sheen of the strawberries that are finally ripening enough to eat. It’d been months since Xavier and you had started your quaint little rooftop garden atop his balcony, and your collective dedicated gardening was finally rewarded with the most beautiful crimson strawberries you’d ever seen. Having been tasked with tending to his house plants on his sudden trip away, you found yourself spending a lot of time with the strawberries on Xavier’s apartment’s balcony. 

"But even though you’re bearing fruit, your owner isn’t here,” you murmur sadly, stroking the slightly sticky skin of the berries. Okay sure, you were undoubtedly projecting your own feelings onto the poor little strawberries, but who could blame you? It’d been ten days since Xavier had suddenly left town and similarly ten days since he’d responded to any of your text messages or returned any phone calls. 

And dammit, you missed him. Missed his deep groggy voice when he’d pick up your phone calls at 11 am asking if he’d had breakfast yet, his bewildered face when you’d barge into his apartment demanding that he take you to play crane games, the way he’d pretend not to notice when you swapped hands during kitty cards. Ever since you’d first met the enigmatic hunter in the abandoned protocore research base on your first mission as an official hunter, you found both your night and day dreams being filled with the thought of him. 

You’d even missed him enough to send a few regrettable late night texts, confessing just that. At 4am. You groaned inwardly at the embarrassment of recalling your deleted messages. Really, no one should be allowed to send any text messages after 1am. Least of all you, who had so many confusing unresolved feelings for the silver haired man in question.

The sound of keys jingling a door open snaps you out of your thoughts. Your heart pounded, he was finally home! Excitedly, you scrambled back into Xavier’s apartment, to be met with the sight of him struggling to remove his uniform top. The sight of his sculpted torso on display before you like an absolute art piece, had you freezing in your tracks, cheeks heating at the glorious site before you. Xavier also froze, his cerulean eyes locking with yours in surprise.

"You’re…here?” his voice was as warm as you'd remembered, the sound of it forever etched in your mind. But it sounded too soft, tired. Exhausted even. 

"Y-yeah…the weather was good today and I wanted to check on the strawberries,” you attempted to remain calm and collected, turning around to stop from staring at his exposed stomach. But the plethora of injuries on his pale skin caught your eye. Instantly, you were at his side, inspecting him and assessing his scars. 

“...You got hurt?!” your heart hammered anxiously in your chest as you reached to touch him. He peered down at you guiltily, pulling his top back down to cover the scars. He gently pried your hands away from his abdomen, letting his fingers linger on your skin far longer than he’d needed to, the touch not going unnoticed by you.

"It’s nothing, let me go get changed,” Xavier finally released your wrists and left you to wait on the couch for him. You felt on edge, waiting impatiently, feet tapping anxiously against the carpet. Xavier finally reemerges from his room in a fresh set of indoor clothes, a ribbed white long sleeve and gray sweatpant joggers. You’d seen him in this exact outfit many times, but suddenly the way his sweatpants sat against his lap made your mind wander, but you shake the filthy thoughts out of your head. When he finally sits down next to you, you can’t help but fret over him, grabbing his arm to inspect his complexion. 

"You went missing, and now you return all beaten up…why do you always make me worry?” you reprimanded, pouting slightly, "You’re wounded aren't you? Does it hurt?” your fingers ghost over the bruises on his forearm, the veins there protruding slightly amongst the bulging muscles. Xavier only turns away, unwilling to meet your gaze, but still leaving his arm in your lap.

His refusal to answer only makes you more desperate for reassurance that he’s alright. You try to lift his shirt, but he uses his free hand to grip your wrist, stopping you. You don’t notice the way he blushes at your touch.

"It’s nothing, just some minor scrapes.” while the mere sound of his voice does wonders to soothe your swimming mind, it does nothing to quell the anxiety you have over his well being. Over where he’d been these last ten days. With not so much as a single text message to let you know he was okay, safe. That’s all you had wanted, to know he was safe.

“I think your definition of scrape and my definition differ greatly,” you mutter sulkily, trying to get him to meet your eyes. When he doesn’t, you take his face in your two hands, forcing him to level with you. His cheeks tinge a peachy red under your palms, his normally slow and controlled breath rapidly increasing at your touch. 

"If your wounds aren’t treated they could get worse, get infected, and even become life-threatening,” you murmur, almost threatening him, unable to stop the worry from lacing into your words. You can tell he feels guilty, his eyes opting to stare at your shoulder instead of your eyes, “...This is nothing. I’m used to letting them heal without much thought.” 

This does nothing to make you feel better, if anything it makes you feel worse, and you’re unwilling to relent, "The past is the past. This is the present.”

His eyes finally peer into your own, meeting your stubborn gaze. His deep blue orbs are intense, searching for something within your own. While his voice is deep, tired, undoubtedly exhausted, you can still sense the longing heat in them. He sighs, finally caving into your whims, "Alright. So, what do you want me to do?”

And so you find yourself in Xavier’s dimly lit living room, a first aid kit on your lap, and Xavier shirtless in front of you. You try to ignore the fact that he’s very much half naked in front of you, his joggers sitting dangerously low on his waist. So much so that you can definitely see the indentation of his obliques forming a tight ‘v’. It was enough to turn your brain into mush, but you fought those intrusive thoughts away so you could tend to his injuries. 

Taking a deep breath to try and calm your raging nerves, you start, "Is there a spot that hurts the most? Or is really sensitive? I’ll try to be extra gentle when I apply the ointment.” your eyes linger on the way his collar bones frame the muscles on his chest, the skin there pure and untouched from the dark bruises forming on Xavier’s shoulder and abs. You bite your lip to withhold the shiver threatening to overtake you at the image of Xavier in all his muscular glory before you. His gentle voice brings you out of your filthy reverie.

"My neck.”

"Hmm?” your eyes snap to his, cheeks flaming when you realize he’d caught you staring. He smiles gently, but thankfully doesn’t tease you.

"The most sensitive part of my body is my neck,” he says again, his words almost threatening to make you unleash the shiver you were holding back. Refusing to let your mind wander more, you lean forward and begin carefully cleaning the wound that’s etched onto the muscles that connect his shoulders to his neck. While you wipe the cut with one hand, you use your other hand to rub comforting circles around the red skin surrounding it, hoping to ease the stinging. 

Xavier groans, his voice husky and drawn out. You can’t help but wonder what that sound would feel like under a different circumstance, but repress those thoughts deep deep down. 

"Does it hurt a lot?” you keep your eyes glued to the irritated skin, lightening the pressure at which you’re pressing down, not wanting him to feel any semblance of pain, ever. 

"Kind of.” Xavier’s response is clouded in ambiguity, leaving you confused as to what he wants to say. Before you can press him further he speaks again, “I appreciate you looking after things while I was gone.” 

You sigh at his persistent nonchalance, as if he hadn’t just up and disappeared and come back beaten and bruised. You knew him well enough to know he’s not planning on telling you what had happened to injure him like this or why he had to leave town in the first place.

Feeling childish, you decide two can play at that game, "You don’t need to thank me. Neighbors should always look out for each other.” you force down the inexplicable emotions stirring inside of you that threaten to spill into your voice, continuing to tend to the cuts on his neck. 

He doesn’t respond and the room becomes suffocatingly quiet. Swapping the alcohol wipe for the ointment, you briefly peer up to find Xavier staring at you with his intense blue eyes. You stubbornly refuse to waver from his stare, but he remains silent.

"What? If you have something to say, say it,” you demand, a bit snappishly, unable to contain the hurt you felt at his repeated silence, both now but also on his days away. 

Xavier remains gentle even at your abrasiveness, "You’re really close to me. All I can do is look at you.” despite yourself, you blush at his words, chest tightening. He keeps his eyes on yours and you can’t help but squirm under his emotion clouded blue eyes, though you couldn’t decipher exactly which emotion swam through them.

The silence envelopes the air once more as you refuse to speak. Xavier speaks up again, his voice low and almost sad, "Are you angry with me?”

Your heart cracks at the vulnerability in his voice, but you can’t seem to let go of your own peeved feelings, "Why would I be? We’re just acquaintances who happen to be neighbors.” you know you’re being unfair, but you can’t help but feel as if you deserve some kind of explanation. You cared about him, far more than he probably knew, and he just up and disappeared without a trace for ten days. And to top it all off, he came back looking like this.

"Are the other neighbors like us?” though his words are simple, you can’t help but wonder if Xavier is intending to say something else under the veil of those words. 

No, you supposed to yourself, other neighbors probably did not feel the least bit in the way you felt for Xavier. Your hands tremble at the thoughts you can’t seem to push away, and you accidentally press a bit too deeply as you apply the ointment. Xavier winces, his eyes finally unfocussing from yours and his brows furrowed in discomfort. 

Instantly you feel bad for being even the least bit annoyed with him. Your voice is much gentler now, almost apologetic, "Was I too rough? You're…does it hurt a lot?”

Xavier smiles reassuringly at you, so warm and gentle despite your attitude and the undeniable pain of his injuries, your stomach can’t help but flutter at him, "Sort of, but I’m alright.” 

"That’s good,” is all you can sheepishly say as you find yourself lost in his expression. 

"Maybe the pain is so intense that I can’t feel anything,” Xavier is smiling so you know he’s teasing you but you can’t help but feel incredibly guilty.

"Really? I didn’t mean to…”

The look he gives you is enough to shut you up. Though he doesn’t say anything, his facial expression makes you wonder what exactly is going on in his mind. Finally he speaks up, "It’s okay. I forgive you, and in exchange you’re not allowed to be angry at me anymore.”

“I told you that I wasn’t angry,” you sigh, "Stay still. I’m going to apply the bandage.” Xavier smiles and nods, straightening his posture obediently. You want to tease him, but instead diligently apply a bit of gauze to his neck and adhere it with some medical tape.

Satisfied with your handiwork, you smile smugly, "All done. Keep your wounds away from water and avoid eating spicy food for the next few days.” Xavier mumbles something unintelligible under his breath, and when you look at him his head is bowed down so low you can’t even see his eyes. Before you know it, he’s collapsing in your arms, completely passed out. 

"X-Xavier?!” you catch him easily, but his unconscious weight holds you down. Xavier only murmurs groggily at your words. You can’t help but smile and rub his bare back adoringly. His skin is soft, and warm to the touch. You relish in the feel of his skin against yours and his presence enveloping you, having truly missed him so much. 

"Poor baby,” you sigh, contemplating on how you’ll be able to carry him to his bed. 

With great effort, you’re able to haul Xavier to his bedroom. As you bend down to lay him on his mattress, you trip over his feet. With his arms tangled in yours like a little koala holding on for dear like, you tumble onto the bed with him. You flop onto his mattress, and his arms tighten around you, locking you in place, tucked into his chest. You move to push him off you, but instead you accidentally graze his wrapped neck.

Xavier moans, still deep in sleep, and his lip pouts as he grips you even tighter. You sigh in defeat at how content he looks with his arms wrapped around you, with his bottom lip sticking out slightly. You can’t help but admire Xavier’s sleeping face, his long eyelashes tickling against your cheek. It’s not long before you find yourself being lulled to sleep by the warmth of his strong arms and the slow beating of his heart against yours. 

–

You awaken to Xavier tucking you into his blanket, his movements gentle as to not wake you. Your breath hitches but you do your best to pretend to still be sleeping, unable to face him in this compromising situation. With any luck, Xavier would get out of bed and you could pretend to wake up when he wasn’t so intimidatingly close to you. 

But instead of getting up, Xavier only lays back down beside you, nuzzling into your side. Your heart races at the affection, biting your lip to keep from making any noise. His body heat against your own threatens to unleash a shiver of satisfaction across your body, but you force it back so as to not alert him that you are in fact awake. 

Xavier is so unbelievably close, you can feel his breath fanning against your exposed neck and his fingers stroking your palm. Unable to withstand the suffocating tension, you pretend to wake up, feigning a yawn as you flutter your eyes open. You come face to face with Xavier, his eyes, still groggy with sleep, analyzing your every movement. His gaze falls lower, seemingly watching your lips part with the steady inhale and exhale of your bated breath.

You squirm, trying to dissipate the tension, remembering to keep your voice groggy, "Are you still tired? It’s not morning anymore, so maybe we should start thinking about what to eat.”

"You’re resting on my arm. I can’t move. At all.” you jolt upwards, and Xavier retracts his arm, rubbing the tender muscles, no doubt they’d fallen asleep, up and down. You hid your blush underneath your hair, unsure of what to do next. You became hyper aware of the fact that you sat in Xavier’s bed, with him. And he was so very shirtless. 

Luckily Xavier speaks so you don’t have to, “I saw your texts from yesterday saying you were having trouble falling asleep. Did you sleep well?”

"It was pretty good,” you answered earnestly, genuinely feeling more well rested than you had in weeks, but then your heart stuttered, "W-wait, you saw the message I deleted yesterday?!” 

"Yeah, I did. But I’m pretty sure it was a small peek,” his gentle smile changes to one of a teasing grin, "Xavier, if you don’t respond, I’m going to eat all the strawberries. All of them.” he raises the octave in his voice to mock you. To say you’re mortified would be an extreme understatement.

Trying to deflect from the fact that he’d in fact seen your embarrassing late night texts, you counter, "But I didn’t. I saved you a small bowl!”

He continues, deadset on his mission to embarrass the hell out of you, his grin radiant enough to stop your heart. Which you might actually prefer to the sheer embarrassment of being called out like this, "The moment I think about you being somewhere else annoys me to the point where I can’t sleep at all.” 

You feel like a deer caught in the headlights, utterly defensive, "Well, of course! You can’t just ask someone to look after your stuff and then ghost them. If that’s not being unreasonable then I don’t know what is!”

Xavier glances at you, his voice calm but his eyes holding inexplicable emotions that you cannot decipher, "Oh, and there's one text that I can't forget.” you hold your breath, already knowing which one it is. Undoubtedly the worst, most incriminating one of them all. 

“I think I miss you.” groaning, you cover your eyes with your hands and fall back against the bed. Xavier laughs, propping up on his side to face you, his fingers brushing some stray strands of hair away from your cheek, hooking them behind your ear. 

“...You saw every message!” you accused, peeking at him through the cracks of your fingers still covering your eyes. But didnt respond to any of them, you want to add, but hold yourself back. 

His expression is that of pure innocence, “I was going to reply to them, but then I got caught up in something. And you deleted them a second later. I could only pretend that I didn’t see anything.” and then slowly, almost painfully, he adds, "Maybe those messages weren't meant for me.”

Despite your burning embarrassment, you couldn’t possibly let Xavier think those thoughts were for anyone but him. The flicker of dejection in his eyes is enough to have you spilling out the truth, “...Okay, I didn’t send them to the wrong person!” your cheeks burn and you’re sure you look just as red as one of the strawberries on the balcony. You prop up on your own side to face him, “I missed you. But that’s not the point!” your lips jut out to pout at him, feeling like an attention-seeking toddler that had gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Xavier, the relief and longing palpable in his eyes, reaches his free arm out to cup your cheek in his palm, "And I missed you too.” his voice is low, nothing more than a whisper, making your breath catch in your throat.

His thumb brushes across the corner of your lip, "Unbearably so.” his intimate touch literally rewires your brain, making you throw all inhibitions out the window. The tidal wave of emotions you’d had on a tight leash, floods through the dam. Unable to control yourself, you firmly push him down on the bed and straddle him, making sure to avoid any of the bruises on his abdomen. 

"Why did you leave me?!” you whine, surprising Xavier and even yourself with your assertiveness. He rests his hands atop your thighs, as they cage him beneath you. His body is warm under your own, and you feel the heat manifesting in your gut at the intimate closeness of your bodies.

His surprised expression is quickly replaced with one of cool and calm, despite the fact that you were literally on top of him like he’d secretly imagined several times before, "Why are you so worried about me?”

“...When there are bad people and wanderers out there, of course I’ll be worried about you,” your voice softens at the very thought. The emotions coursing through you make your voice waver, no matter how hard you try to steel yourself. 

Xavier smiles warmly at you, his hands wandering upwards to your waist and then to your lower back. You’re acutely aware of his hands on you and it causes your confidence to tremor, your stomach bubbling in anticipation at his touch. 

"And yet, you’re way more dangerous than any wanderer could be,” his voice is throaty, tinged with need and desire and his eyes find your lips once more.  

"This is different. I would never hurt you,” you counter, your hands resting against his broad chest. Confidence returning ever so slightly, you dust your fingers against his delicate skin. You come close to his nipples, but narrowly and intentionally miss them. Xavier’s hands on your back grip harder, not enough to hurt but enough to leave you breathless and wanting more. You can feel him squirm beneath you, eyes pleading with yours. For what, you’re unsure. 

"Yes, but I don’t have the strength to resist you at the moment.” Xavier’s voice is nothing more than a whisper, has hands digging further into the sensitive skin of your lower back. You writhe on top of him, to which he lets out a faint moan, just barely audible in the crackling air around you. 

Your voice is but a rasping murmur, as you throw caution to the wind, giving into all the inexplicable emotions your heart held for the man beneath you. At your mercy, "Then…don’t.”

At your words, Xavier pushes you down towards him with the hands he had on your back. You offer no resistance, fully letting him guide your face to his own. And like you’d day dreamed so many times before, Xavier takes your lips into his. Softly, reverently, but so hungrily.

Your fingers entangle in his pale locks, gripping gently as his lips mold perfectly against yours. You sigh into his mouth as your breaths merge together. You breathe him in, basking in his radiance, all around you. Xavier’s hands leave your back to hold the plush of your thighs, kneading softly but so possessively. Your thighs clench around his hard torso, and you can’t help but rock yourself into him until you are resting on his lap, on his crotch. His hands tighten on your thighs, the grip a clear message, a wordless command for you to behave.

His tongue caresses your lips, a silent request for entry. You obediently part them, allowing him access to every part of you. When his tongue ghosts against yours for the very first time, you moan so deep and pleadingly that you can feel Xavier’s smile against your lips. His hands wander up and down your back again mapping out all the ridges of your spine against your thin shirt. 

You’d imagined kissing Xavier for the first time, many many times, but none of those silly little daydreams could amount to this. Your imagination paled in comparison to the real thing, so willing, pliant, and tender underneath you. Ready to do anything to serve you.

You finally pull away, gasping for air but only craving his breath against yours again, you can’t help but ask meekly, "Is this okay?” 

You can see the answer in Xavier’s eyes, but he responds still, "More than okay. Is it okay for you?” 

Breathlessly, you trail your thumb across his bottom lip and mirror his words, "More than okay.” you’re suddenly hit with the reminder of just how much Xavier had you worrying these past few days. Feeling mischievous, you stare down at him, face flushed pink and lips swollen with saliva. Your fingers trail down his cheek, careful not to touch his sensitive neck, and onto his chest, “I should teach you a lesson so you never make me worry like that again.”

Between his breathless pants, he’s intrigued, “...What do you want?” his hands flit to the waistband of your pants, playing with the material and letting his fingers brush against the skin of your waist. You hold back a tremble, and instead of answering him, you decide to just show him. Dragging your fingers across his muscular chest, you let your thumbs brush against his hardening nipples. Xavier’s sharp inhale is immediate and you feel him clench his hands against your hips. You lean your face down to trail a path of small kisses down his chest, over his bruises, all the way to his naval. 

You can feel him trembling beneath your every touch as he grinds out, "Is this my punishment?” his hand reaches up to weave his fingers through your hair, collecting the pieces that fall to your eyes as you bend down to kiss his skin. 

Grinning, you sit back up, taking his cheeks in between your fingers and squish. You can never help but to tease Xavier, his adorable reactions always leaving you wanting more. You release his face from your hold, only for him to mirror your actions right back at you. His fingers are delectably rough as they grip your chin.

“I can do that too. Like this.” his face is so full of amusement, making you want to retaliate further. So you let your hands wander back up his chest, slowly moving to wrap around his neck. You see Xavier’s eyes widen in surprise as your fingers delicately tickle the sides of his neck, feeling his pulse race beneath them. As your nails flicker across the sensitive skin of his neck, Xavier lets out a groan that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. 

"Ahh, please,” he whines. You notice that his hands have slipped under your shirt now, but not venturing upwards, ever the gentleman.

You giggle at his vulnerability, "You’re injured and don’t know how to take care of yourself,” you hand ventures from Xavier’s neck to hold his face in between your fingers again, "You’re like a helpless animal about to be eaten.” your voice is a teasing coo, and you bend down slowly, torturously grinding your core along his crotch. He hisses again, fingers digging into your bare skin as if hoping to slow you down. But instead, you lean into the crook of where his neck meets his shoulder, on the side that’s uninjured, and press a barely there kiss into the skin. Even at the faintest touch along his neck, Xavier groans and presses his lower half harder into you. To stop your own moans, and maintain the upper hand, you bite into Xavier’s neck. He swears and his fingers crush into your sides, and you squeal into his neck but your lips stay latched. 

His skin is so sweet between the gentle teasing of your teeth, his pheromones invading all your senses. As you suckle on the sensitive skin there, you continue to rock your lower half against him, pleasantly surprised at the feel of his bulging erection against you. Your filthy day dreams of him paled in comparison to the sheer girth of what sat beneath you now. 

"You’re not worried about me – hah, retaliating?” but you ignore him, instead relishing in the sound of his pants in response to your touch. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine Xavier would be this reactive.

He continues his delectable moans at your ear, "H-hah, fuck – w-wait. Love please,” your core clenches at the endearment and you detach yourself from Xavier’s neck, a flushed bruise starting to form where your lips previously sat. Xavier hardens further at your disheveled sight. Lips red, swollen, and shiny with saliva, cheeks flushed a beautiful shade of red, eyes hazy with lust. He was fighting from coming undone at the sight alone. 

"Wh-what? Is this not okay?” you pause, worrying you had crossed a boundary, but you can’t help the gentle and uncontrollable tremors your core makes against his crotch, almost like the aftershock of an earthquake. He groans in response, his head falling back deeper into the pillow as his eyes clenched shut.

His big hands squeeze your thighs reassuringly, and his right palm reaches up to cup your cheek. You lean into his touch, savoring the feel of his warm and protective hand against your flushed cheek. He repeats his words from earlier, "It’s more than okay. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to have you like this.” his words are filled with a vast expanse of emotions, but one you can make out is indescribable and utter love. Like he’d been waiting an eternity for you to fall into place in his life. 

His hands trails down to play with the buttons on your top, fingers grazing the exposed skin on your chest. You shiver as he says, "But I want — I need to savor this moment with you.” 

In that moment you think about the way your heart has always throbbed at the thought of Xavier. You think you’ve loved him for a while, it always felt like your life was destined to intertwine with his, in unexplainable ways. You’d long given up on fate, especially after caleb and grandma. But looking at the azure eyed man beneath you, you couldn’t help but think that that very fate had brought you two here today. So when you intertwine your fingers with his hand that toys with unbuttoning your top and bring your joined palms up against your heart, you don’t hesitate to confess, "You have me, forever.” 

At your declaration, the expression on Xavier’s face is a haze of inexplicable emotions. With the faintest sliver of hesitation and something that sounds an awful like sorrow he finally murmurs, "And you’ve had me, forever.”

Unable to withstand the intensity of his longing stare and the weight of his words, you dip back down to capture his lips with yours, returning his heavy words with an equally passionate kiss. Your hands move to stroke up and down his naked chest, before landing on his neck, using your thumb to feel the thrumming of his unusually erratic pulse. With your free hand you encourage his fingers that fiddle with the buttons of your blouse, urging him to undo the confines. You can tell Xavier is holding back, likely doing his best to tread the fine line between careful respect for you and losing all control.

Reluctantly, you withdraw from him, whispering through your gasps, "Xavier…please. I want this. I want you.”

His eyes are misted with lust and adoration, his body stiffening even further. His voice is as deep as you’ve ever heard it, "Are you sure Y/N? You have to be sure. I-I’m scared I won’t be able to stop.” 

Softly, you use your fingers to trace over the hickey you’ve left behind on his neck. His breath catches and you can see the control slipping from his grasp. Slowly, you bring your fingers to unbutton your blouse yourself. Painfully slow, each finger taking its time to unlatch each enclosure, and you murmur, “I won’t want you to stop.”

His eyes are locked on you, as you slip the blouse off your shoulders, leaving you in your white satin bra. His jaw tightens at the sight of you and he grabs your thighs, "Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” and with those words, Xavier’s thick arms are lifting you into the air and throwing you gently underneath him. In a flash, his heavy body is on top of yours, your legs parted to accommodate his unbelievably built stature. You squeal in surprise at his dominance, the sound cutting through the thick sexual tension in the air. Xavier smiles down at you, the dangerous glint in his eyes making heat flare between your legs. The slick forming in between your folds is unmistakable and you bite your lip to keep the moans at bay. 

"Am I still a helpless animal? Since you seem to know everything, you should enlighten me.” the deep purr in his voice edges on a primal growl, like a predator with its prey between its claws. It’s enough to have you submitting to his every whim. How quickly Xavier has turned the tables on you, his hand now gently pressed against your own neck, has rendered you a stuttering dripping mess.

"X-Xavier…”

But he silences you, placing his index finger over your lips, his other hand moving downwards to stroke the soft satin of your bra, his fingers flitting dangerously close to the skin of the swell of your breasts, "When faced with a hunter that knows my weakness and how to take advantage of them, is there anything I can do?” you’ve never heard Xavier so threateningly dominating, so demanding. It leaves you utterly speechless, your previous upper hand gone completely. 

"Perhaps I should teach you a lesson.”

You shudder at his words. His hands reach under your back to unhook your bra and you arch off the bed to allow him to slip it off effortlessly. Fully exposed before him, Xavier’s eyes burn with such intense heat it intimidates you, so you instinctively cover your breasts. Xavier doesn’t speak, instead dipping his head down to trail delicate kisses along your arms, leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake. Your breath comes out in shallow pants as he gently pries your arms away, and presses an open mouthed kiss to the swell atop your right breast. 

You shiver uncontrollably under his warm lips, needing more friction, "P-please Xavier.”

Xavier’s wide grin is uncontainable, "Look who’s the helpless animal now?” but despite his teasing, Xavier indulges your pleas, capturing your nipple in his warm and waiting mouth. You’re unable to stop the gasp that tumbles out of your lips, your body arching off the bed only to be met with Xavier’s heavy body pressing you back down. Xavier’s muffled moans against your sensitive skin send your eyes into the back of your skull. As the pleasure threatens to overtake your melting mind, you press your dampening crotch into his erection even further trying to gain more friction. He groans, deep and hoarse, making you peer down at your chest and at him. Your eyes meet.

The eye contact as he devours you is enough for your climax to start creeping in, your hand wedging between the two of you to grasp his cock through his sweatpants. Your hands are met with the alarming dampness of his pre cum seeping through the gray fabric that frames his bulging erection. You bite your lip at the sheer mass you hold in your hands, your fingers tracing just how thick he was. 

Xavier’s tongue continues to flick along your nipple as your hand slowly makes its way under his waistband and under his boxer briefs. With his pubic hair tickling your palm, you brush your fingers against his thick erection. Your touch earns your breast a harsh nip which causes you to cry out. The pleasure and pain is so blinding you find yourself needing to grip onto his cock just to keep succumbing to your impending orgasm, rooting you to reality.

"H-hah, Y/N, please…ah, not so tight please,” Xavier’s voice is a desperate whine, as he pants against the swell of your breast. At his urging you release his manhood from your grip ever so slightly, but keep it trapped in your palm, your hand has a mind of its own, unable to stop from stroking his length up and down, brushing against the single bulging vein alongside it. He leaks so much pre cum that it feels like he’s already pumped his release all over himself. You collect it all, using it to fist his cock in your hands while he ravages your breasts.

"You’re, hah, making me ruin my pants love,” Xavier pants against you, descending upon your body until you’re forced to release him, much to your dismay. He slots his lips in the valley of your breasts, leaving a trail of wet kisses slowly down your body. When he reaches your belly button, his hands reach to remove your pants and panties in one fell swoop. The cold air nips at your exposed core, as Xavier removes the tangle of clothing from your limbs 

Completely exposed before him, Xavier rakes his eyes all over your bare body, admiring every inch of you and breathes out a single word, "Beautiful.” you blush under his gaze and you clasp your thighs tight in an attempt to hide but Xavier keeps your legs open, his grip tight on your knees. With his eyes locked on yours, he guides your calves onto his shoulders, careful to avoid his bandages. You feel nervous as he comes face to face with your undoubtedly soaking cunt, and to your utter embarrassment he notices it too.

"You’re so wet already. Is this all for me?” while his words are teasing, his tone is earnest, almost in awe.

"W-wait Xavier, you’re injured. I don’t want you to strain yourself. L-let me–” 

His eyebrows arch at you, "You said I should stay away from spicy foods, you never said anything about this. Let me enjoy myself.” without letting you protest any further, he lowers his face onto your waiting cunt, his mouth unbelievably warm against your own burning core. You cry out, your back arching to the point it feels as if it may snap. With your legs on Xavier’s shoulders, your lower half is elevated nearly a foot off the bed, his hands on your thighs supporting your entire body.

Xavier’s tongue is fervent and attentive. He explores every inch of you, mapping out which areas make you sing with the most pleasure. His tongue alternates between dipping in and out of your entrance and caressing your clit while his hands move to prop you up by your ass. As he feasts on you, his hands knead the fat of your rear.

"X-Xavier please. So so s’good,” you wail, hands digging deep into his comforter, wishing your hands could reach his hair, his face, anything. Your clit feels like it might explode in pure ecstasy under Xavier’s tongue, making you unable to control your mouth. Your words make him harden impossibly more, still restrained in his soaked sweatpants. He groans into your core, the vibrations intensifying your pleasure. You can feel your orgasm racing towards you, which makes your thighs tremble around his face. Suddenly, he stops and lifts his head. You whine at the loss of his tongue and the disruption of your climax, almost collapsing into the bed if it wasn’t for his strong arms supporting you.

"Can I put a finger in?” his eyes are pleading, as if he’s worried you might deny him.

Your head bobs eagerly, and you have to hold yourself back from telling him he can literally do whatever he pleases with you, "God, yes. Just don’t stop, please.”

"You’re so adorable when you beg for me,” he grins as his lips find your clit once more as he eases not one but two fingers into your waiting hole. Your moans fill the room at being so suddenly and pleasantly filled to the brim, your eyes rolling into your brain. Xavier’s pace leaves nothing to be desired, his movement producing absolutely filthy noises to mix with the sounds of your moans. You can feel him scissoring his fingers in and out, stretching you out against his soaking hands.

"You’re so tight even around just my fingers…” he trails off in wonder, pondering how he’d possibly fit himself inside you, if you’d allow him.

"M’s-sorry,” you pant against his ministrations stretching you to the fullest you’ve ever felt, "Xavier, th-think I might cum soon.” 

Your words fuel him further, the squelching sounds music to his ears. The pleasure is endless and you’re starting to see white. Without stopping his fingers, he murmurs against your clit, "Please give it to me. Cum for me, love. I need it.” 

Combined with his expert fingers weaving in and out of you, his demand sends your hurtling through your orgasm. Your thighs threaten to crush his skull as they tremble uncontrollably on his shoulders. You release all over his face, his mouth still latched onto you, gushing into his waiting mouth as you chant his name like a prayer. He replaces his fingers with his tongue, giving your aching clit a much needed break while still working you through your fierce orgasm. You softly scream in response to this warm tongue inside of you, shuddering through the final waves of your orgasm while Xavier laps up all of your release, not letting even a single drop be wasted.

As your body heaves, Xavier removes himself from your thighs, softly setting you down against the bed. He murmurs, "You taste so good. Better than I ever imagined.”

His words fuel you with confidence, and you feel the irresistible urge to return all the pleasure Xavier just gave you. Your thighs are absolute jelly, but you crawl to your knees to face him. Taking his face into your hands, you lean in so your lips are millimeters apart and whisper, "My turn please.” 

Xavier’s eyes smolder, and he lets himself be pushed down backwards onto the bed, with you slotting between his thighs like he’d done to you. Feeling confident from the aftermath of your orgasm, you lean down and kiss his bulge through his soaked sweatpants. He hisses, as his hands cup the back of his head on the pillow. His reactions only serve to embolden you further, and you lick a strip down his pants, relishing in the salty taste of his pre cum on your tongue. Unable to wait further, you pull his joggers and undergarments down together, and his cock springs free. Your confidence wavers as you’re met with Xavier in all his glory. He was unbelievably thick, and the vein you’d felt earlier bulged deliciously against the pale pink skin. You unconsciously lick your lips at the challenge before you, taking him into both your hands and sinking down to lap up the pearly white beads that had formed on his tip, threatening to spill over.

Xavier lets out a guttural groan, his hands leaving his head to thread through your hair. He whines as you take his tip into your mouth, gripping your hair gently. The salty, yet surprisingly sweet, taste invades your mouth as you struggle to accommodate his girth in between your lips. Determined to please him, you bob down deeper as your tongue lathers the sides of his cock attentively. 

"H-hah shit.” Xavier is a grunting mess beneath you, "My – ahh – beautiful girl. You’re doing so, fuck, s’good.” he hits the back of your throat, tears streaming down your face. You bob slowly, your jaw aching already as you do your best to take him. With your hands you stroke the parts of him that aren’t in your mouth. 

Xavier’s hands in your hair are slowly guiding your head up and down, encouraging you take him a bit faster. You gag against him, his moans letting you know how much he enjoys your throat closing around his length. While his thickness threatens to split your jaw, you can’t help but enjoy how he feels inside your mouth, an endless dribble of pre cum your reward for taking him so well. After a few minutes of this, Xavier’s hands tighten in your hair.

"S-stop.” you peer up at him through your wet eyelashes. Hes propped up on his elbows now, staring at you with an intensity that excites you to your core. 

“I…I need to be inside you. Is that okay?” he asks, but it feels more like a command. More than willing to indulge him, you lick the stray beads of pre cum that had found their way onto your lips, and you get on your knees so you can seat yourself on top of him. Using your soaked slit, you grind on his saliva and pre cum slicked erection, whimpering while it catches on your clit, still sensitive from his tongue. 

Xavier massages your thighs soothingly, his smile is as radiant as ever, "Don’t worry love. Take your time. I’m yours to use however you’d like.” his words fuel your pulsating cunt, and you continue to grind on him, letting his tip ghost along your entrance, but not allowing him in. Your teasing drives him to the edge of madness and you love seeing his undoing all over his facial expression. The friction combined with his reactions to you are enough to have your second orgasm building in your stomach. The mixture of your arousals lets him glide so easily in and out of your thighs between your leaking slit. 

You’ve definitely never tried this before, but the anticipation of using just your pussy lips to pleasure the both of you is so exciting. The sounds of your combined slick so lewd against both your bodies. His cock so close to just entering your waiting hole and devouring you whole. It’s all enough to have you cumming again right then and there, but you know the next time you finish you need it to be with him stuffed deep inside you.

"So big Xavier…don’t know if it’ll fit..” you whine, not daring to halt your movements across his cock.

"It will baby, I’ll make sure it fits.” you shiver at his words and finally, you allow yourself to sink down onto him. You wail at the impossible stretch, much more than his two fingers. Honestly you’d wished he would’ve used four fingers as that might’ve prepped you better, more accurate to what was stuffed inside you now.

Your thighs tremble as you’re able to take his head fully in. The stretch is uncomfortable, but you’re wet enough where there’s as little resistance as physically possible. Xavier throws his head back and pants out words of encouragement, hands kneading into your thighs. 

"Y’you’re so fucking tight it feels like you’re trying to snap it off,” he grits, eyes glued to where your body connects with his. You lower yourself steadily, and you finally seat yourself fully, his cock pulsing excitedly inside you. You gasp for air taking a second to situate yourself before you can even think of moving again. Xavier is no better under you, sweat forming on his forehead from the pleasure alone, his chest heaving up and down rhythmically.

"M’gonna move now, ‘kay?” you warn him breathlessly, surprised your brain is even able to still form words.

Xavier is equally fucked out, begging shamelessly, "Please. Need to feel you.” though Xavier is the one pleading underneath you, you’re not a fool. Ever the wolf in sheep’s clothing, you know he is the one in control of the situation, even if you’re the one setting the pace on top of him.

His pleas are enough to get your thighs moving, rocking up and down, back and forth. You squeeze your eyes shut, falling forward so your clit can catch on the thick muscles alove his pubic bone. Xavier’s hands on your thighs inch up to your waist to better guide you along as your pelvis rhythmically gyrates back and forth to better feel him against your clit and inside you.

"Hah, I’ve always loved it when you take control on missions. So pretty – shit – f’me, using my cock like this,” Xavier pants, holding onto your body for dear life.

The pleasure of his words swims straight to your head, and you can feel your brain turning to mush as you use Xavier’s cock to pleasure yourself in ways you’d never dreamed of feeling. You can vaguely hear his endless grunts and whines of encouragement as your heart pounds in your ears. The earth shattering orgasm creeping up on you builds monumentally, much more intense than the one that’d already ravaged your body. 

Xavier’s breathy cries snap you back into the present, "Sh-shit slow down. If you don’t–hah– slow down m’gonna–” he cuts himself off, swearing as he feels you tighten even further around him. As if needing something to hold onto to steel himself, he uses one hand to grasp your breast, squeezing forcefully. You yelp at the painful ecstasy, your steady pace faltering and giving both of you a second to slow down your impending orgasms. 

Not giving him too much time to recover, you begin rocking again, slowly, torturously, and passionately, unable to stop yourself from chasing the pleasure only he can give you. Your hand is planted on his abs to steady yourself. Xavier’s eyes lock onto your joined crotches, mesmerized by the motions you make that are akin to the ocean waves pulling in and out of the beach. You pulsate around him wildly and he throbs inside you rhythmically, your bodies meshing perfectly.

As your head is thrown back, your eyes once again inching into your skull, Xavier thumbs at your clit. You squeal and contract at the waves of pleasure he induces onto your body with a single touch.

Xavier swears inexplicably at your vice grip on his length, knowing your body is pushing him rapidly towards his finish. Your slow and intentional bounces have him seeing stars, but he needs more. Keeping his thumb steadily drawing circles in your aching bundle of nerves, he uses his other hand to grip your waist and guide you along, faster and harder. 

His eyes admire your naked beauty on top of him, he pants out, "S’perfect, Y/N. You’re beautiful you know that?”

At his words, you’re a faltering moaning mess as the rhythm Xavier sets has his tip hitting deep in your gummy walls, stroking your sweetest spots at every thrust. At this point Xavier’s hand does much of the work, your thighs threatening to give out as the only thing your brain can focus on is the pure pleasure of his cock reaching the most sensitive spots right before your cervix.

You’re reaching a point of no return, unable to stop your babbling mess, "X-Xavier you’re s’deep, s’big. Splitting me open.” you can feel the mixture of slick against the underside of your thighs, smearing against his pelvis as your bodies slap against each other. 

"Baby you’re making such a mess…hah..Fuck is this all for me?” 

You whine at his words, "S’all for you Xavier..M’all yours.” thighs still burning as you do your best to bounce on him, you grip your breasts with your hands as Xavier uses you like a toy. He seems to know exactly where your g spot is, and he hits it every single time, almost as if he knows your body far better than even you. You’re coming impossibly close to your climax, but you can’t fathom this moment between you two ending.

"Come here,” Xavier whispers desperately, "Let me taste you.” with his hands still shoved between your bodies, playing with your clit, you bend down towards him and let him take your lips into his once more. His soft lips are urgent as they take you, and you can almost feel a lifetime of emotions Xavier has kept from you. You respond with the same desperation, wanting to show him how much he has invaded your very being. Your body, your mind, your heart and soul. It all felt hopelessly intertwined with Xavier, and you couldn’t fight it. You didn’t want to fight it. 

His tongue, cock, and fingers ravage you in perfect unison. The blinding tension in your gut threatens to boil over, and you try to warn him, "X-xav, can’t take much more.” 

"You’re doing so good for me, Y/N. I can–f-fuck–feel how close you are. Please, cum for me,” he pants, his breath mingling with yours. Doing your best to maintain your rhythm amidst the climax that descends upon you like a tsunami, you sink your lips into Xavier’s neck, careful to avoid his cuts. The moan that he responds with is a deep guttural warning. That he’s as close to coming undone as you are. 

With renewed vigor you bounce atop Xavier, absolutely needing to hear him fall apart for you. You spear yourself onto his ever hardening and throbbing erection as his thumb on your clit sends you into oblivion. The bone crushing orgasm descends upon you, and you bite down on Xavier’s pulsing neck. You let out a string of incoherent babbles right by his ear,  and he eats up every single cry you make for him. The tsunami consumes you, manifesting in uncontrollable waves of tremors around Xavier’s leaking cock inside you. Wailing through your orgasm, right into his ear, Xavier takes you into his arms completely and bounces you violently on top of him, desperately chasing his own release. 

"Fffuck, you’re milking me Y/N,” Xavier groans through gritted teeth, "Makin’ a mess all over my bed.”

You alternate between nibbles and soothing licks against his neck, feeling how he swelled inside you at his sensitive neck being ravaged. You could tell Xavier was impossibly close, feeling his heartbeat throb in his cock as he speared your overstimulated core onto him with every ounce of fleeting energy he had left. 

Exhausted and completely fucked out, you murmur into his ear, "Xavier, please. I-inside. Make me yours.” you plant a gentle wet kiss on the deep red bruise you’d etched into his neck. It resembles the strawberries you’d grown together on the balcony.

Xavier’s deep and incomprehensible swears ensue, "You’re mine. Say it Y/N, please.” his thrusts are erratic now, losing himself to the pleasure of your body perfectly wrapped around him.

You squeeze your eyes shut, suckling gently on the hickies you’ve littered across his pale neck, "M’yours Xavier, now and always.”

Your words send him toppling over the edge, letting out a strangled groan as you feel him release deep inside your cunt, pumping his release as deep as it will go. It’s unbelievably soothing, the warm milky seed relieving some of the ache in your throbbing hole from his intense ravishing.

Despite the overstimulation, Xavier continues to thrust lazily in and out of you, wanting to keep every drop of his spend sealed inside you, as deep as it will possibly go. It makes him wince, but he can’t bear the thought of any of it being wasted when it belongs inside you. But you tap his pecs pointedly, still laying completely naked and soaked on top of him, and whine, "S’too sensitive Xavier.”

He chuckles and brings your face to his, this time pressing a slow and sensual kiss to your lips. You close your eyes, enjoying the feel of his soft lips against yours, your bodies connected in more places than one. With your head still on his broad and muscular chest, you relish in the slowing and soft thumps of his calming heartbeat, absolutely content and blissed out. Xavier strokes your hair with one hand, his fingers massaging your scalp, and his other hand rests tightly on the small of your back. As if he’s scared you might disappear at any moment.

Inevitably, his softening member threatens to slip out, but you’re much to fucked out to be able to move a single muscle. Xavier shuffles gently, and you feel him lifting your body off of him and onto the space beside him. He moves again to shift off the bed, presumably to grab a washcloth to wipe you off, but you clutch his bicep and bury your face into his muscular side.

"Please don’t go,” you whisper. He looks hesitant, wanting to clean you up and take care of you like you deserve.

“I can’t fall asleep counting stars. I need them to stay by my side,” you mumble sleepily, not even caring that the mixture of your collective release dripped down your rear and onto the bed beneath you. When he doesn’t respond, you peer up at him, and find yourself in awe of the man before you.

While his face is utterly exhausted, the sleep in his eyes clouding his azure blues, he almost glows. Because of his evol, Xavier is always incandescent, but this is different. Its almost as if his sweat slicked skin illuminates in the soft rays of fading daylight that spill into his bedroom. He catches your stare and he smiles so brilliantly at you that you feel like you’re in the presence of the sun itself. Like he’s an angel sent from the heavens to derail your entire life. 

He relaxes back down beside you, covering the two of you with his thick comforter. Fixating on the sounds of your soft breathing, Xavier softly tucks you into his side, with his arm around the back of your shoulders. Finally, he speaks gently and so heartbreakingly apologetically, “I’m sorry. I should've responded to your messages.”

"Honestly, I’m not that upset,” you sigh into his warm chest muscles that feel better than any pillow ever could. Propping onto your side to face him, worry laces into your voice, "But Xavier, you fell asleep after getting injured. Aren’t you still tired?”

His voice is thick with sleep, deep and comforting to your ears, "Yeah.”

"Will a good night’s sleep fix everything?”

With his fingers tracing patterns into your naked back, Xavier’s pensive for a brief moment. His answer is thoughtful and earnest, "Only if you stay and sleep next to me.” 

The butterflies that erupt in your stomach bloom into your chest and you're incapable of keeping your voice steady while you continue your line of questioning, "Is that why you always say everything’s fine and don’t tell me when you’ve been gravely wounded?” 

He hesitates as you stare at him, his arm still wrapped protectively over you.

Seconds tick by, “I’m leaving if you don’t answer.” you even make a show of trying to get up, knowing damn well you’re not going anywhere. Xavier’s grip on you tightens, quite possessively.

“I promise it won’t ever happen again,” his eyes convey so much more than his words as he stares into your very being. The ardor in his blue eyes overwhelms you with emotions that sting your eyes. 

"Will there ever be a day when you fall asleep and never wake up?” the question comes tumbling out of your lips before you can even stop it. There’s really no reason for you to even fathom that this could happen, but something inside you demands an answer from the silver haired man wrapped around you.

Xavier is silent for an agonizing moment, but takes your hand into his, placing a warm kiss onto it. You shiver at the feel of his lips against your hand. It feels like much more than just a fleeting kiss, but a promise, "If such a thing ever happens, you – and only you – must remember to wake me up.”

You fall back into the crook of where his chest connects with his arm, satisfied with his response, for now. With your hand still in his, you nuzzle into him, doing your best to avoid the trail of injuries that still stained his beautiful glowing skin.

And it felt so good, so right to be held by Xavier like this. Xavier wondered how it could be that you fit so perfectly into his arms, into his life. You both knew there was a heavy conversation to be had, about where this left the two of you. As friends, as hunting partners, but especially as two people whose fates were so indescribably interwoven with each other. You both decided you’d save that for later, opting to savor the perfect bliss of this moment. 

Xavier’s unable to keep his hands off you, innocently grazing against every inch of skin he can. His fingers trace unintelligible patterns on your back and his right hand rubs soothingly up and down between your thigh and your hips. His comforting touch feels so inexplicably right, like two stars written in the night sky. Xavier was your shooting star, after all.

Just before sleep consumes you, you feel out for him, "Xavier?” you’re unsure if he’s still awake as you await his response.

"Yes love?” from his voice you can tell he is on the cusp of dozing off, still with his hands all over you. Your heart flutters at his words.

"You better not ever scare me like that again,” your voice, thick with exhaustion, is anything but threatening as you kiss the skin of his chest muscles.

His languid chuckle is deeper than usual, his stroking halts as he grips your thigh tight, drawing you closer to him and pressing an adoring kiss to your forehead, "If this is my punishment, then I can’t make any promises.”

© aeyumicore 2024. please do not steal ♡

#versalias lads obsession #screaming crying throwing up #this is 10k words what is wrong with me #love and deepspace #l&ds #l&ds smut #lads #lads smut #love and deep space smut #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace scenarios #xavier x reader #love and deepspace xavier #xavier smut #xavier imagines #xavier fic #xavier #loveanddeepspace #l&ds scenarios #xavier x y/n #xavier drabbles #love and deepspace x reader #love and deep space #love and deepspace smut #xavier x you #xavier x mc #lads scenarios #lads fluff #lads xavier #lads x reader

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

croissant - send me a sfw request! 

shy!reader asking eddie munson to be her boyfriend

a/n: bro... I think it's been like half a year since i've written something for this dude.........

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“You want me to be your boyfriend, huh?” Eddie smirked down at you as if you’d just told him the juiciest of secrets that he could now hold over you till the end of your days.

“I mean, only if you want to, of course,” you averted your gaze to your sweaty palms as they nervously fiddled and tangled in one another, “I don’t wanna–”

But then his fingers found your chin and tilted it up till your eyes met his once more, “baby,” his thumb gently swooped across your skin as he uttered, “I thought I already was.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#10k celebration #lea’s writing #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hc #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things blurb #stranger things imagine #eddie munson request

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

what a pretty flower.

the single morning glory stands out, fresh spring sunlight accentuating its indigo hue, glimmering like a shooting star just behind the chain-link fence. in the peripheral of your vision, it almost seems to glow; solitary and ephemeral, as if coaxing you into stepping closer.

and you can’t resist its call.

suguru blinks, a little dazed, when he feels your hand slip from his. the warmth of your intertwined fingers follows closely behind, and the loss of contact leaves him feeling slightly vexed, replaced by the gentle chill of the air.

he doesn’t get an explanation, either. attention entirely fixed on that mesmerizing indigo blur, you don’t say a thing — and with an eager kind of giddiness, you skip over to the fence, ready to fish it out.

suguru just sighs, mildly amused.

it’s nothing out of the ordinary, really. if you see something that captures your attention, suguru has come to learn that you’ll drop just about anything to go get a closer look. does it exasperate him, ever so slightly? sure. the involuntary twitch of his fingers reveals as much, almost as if coaxing him into waltzing over and grabbing your hand again.

but suguru is a patient man. especially when it comes to you. and, above all else — any habit of yours is endearing to him, even ones that include you leaving his side for a moment or two.

so he simply watches over you from afar, knowing you’ll return on your own; with your jacket tucked between his arm and his torso, a can of cold, too-sweet coffee in hand. suguru hasn’t put his lips on the aluminium in about five minutes, saving whatever’s left for the inevitable moment you start whining for just one tiny sip, please?

(he’ll roll his eyes, and tell you not to drink yours so quickly next time, but still hand it to you with a smile he’ll make sure you don’t see.)

suguru’s gaze is unspeakably fond, as he idly admires how the sunshine wraps you in its embrace. you almost seem to sparkle, in his vision, like a butterfly dancing in the wind — fluttering just barely out of reach, too fragile to touch. too beautiful to sully with human hands. maybe it's a tad dramatic, but suguru couldn't care less.

the air is warm, full of life. cicadas chirp from afar. within his veins, his blood buzzes with joy and cheap caffeine, and everything smells like spring. like something new, something delightful. something that makes him think of you.

suguru watches as you crouch down, watches how your nimble fingers struggle to fit through the narrow gaps of the chain-link fence. he can’t see the little frown that tugs at your lips, and he can’t hear your little muttered grumbles — but he can somehow feel your frustration, all the same. something about the way you ducked your head just now, the way your fingers tap against your bended knee.

but then, finally, your valiant efforts bear fruit. with a number of failed attempts that you’d rather not mention, you manage to pluck the small flower, bringing it to your side of the fence without too much of a fuss. suguru doesn’t have to see your face to know that your eyes must be bright, lips curled up into a victorious smile. one that always makes him feel a little weak in the knees.

dusting pollen and tiny pieces of grass off your knees, you stand up straight, wasting no time in turning on your heel and making your way back to his side — with the precious morning glory in tow. 

suguru waits, patiently, for you to return to him. 

when you do, he doesn’t even get a chance to speak; you part your lips before he can give you the usual raise of his eyebrow, soft tilt of his head, teasing inquiry of did you see something nice, sweetheart? all he can do is lean a little closer, making sure he hears every word your lovely voice graces him with. seeking the feeling of your breath against his skin, the warmth of your body when it’s tucked into his side.

(but he can’t get too greedy. so suguru keeps his distance, eyes rich with affection, looking at you like you’re the first flower blooming out of spring.)

and you speak, nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet, eyes shining with something giddy and honeyed — all too eager to see your idea through, the idea that crossed your mind the moment you laid eyes on the little flower.

”suguru,” you smile, sweet and excited. ”lean down.”

a blink, and a questioning look sent your way. your boyfriend shoots you a lazy smile, paired with a raise of his eyebrow that you’ve come to associate with him and his love.

despite the vague confusion painted on his features, suguru obeys your command without hesitation. always so willing to indulge you. he bends forward, compliantly, until he’s at eye level with you — face just a little too close for comfort, dark hazel eyes staring into yours in a way he knows flusters you terribly.

the butterflies in your stomach erupt at the intimate proximity, wings tickling your ribcage like soft petals sputtering after being rooted up from the ground — but you don’t allow yourself to falter.

(it’s a little tough, though. he looks so pretty, with the spring breeze caressing his cheek, soft streaks of sunlight falling over the contours of his handsome face. so, so pretty.

but there’s something that would make him look even prettier.)

so, with a gentleness that never fails to have suguru’s heartbeat hitching in his throat, your palm goes to smooth along his jaw. his eyes never leave your face, gazing intently at the way you press your lips together in concentration, barely resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss you. patient, as he waits for you to be finished.

it’s a tender motion: the pads of your fingers against his sunkissed skin, tucking the little flower behind his ear, its stem resting between his soft, silky locks. the indigo colour blends together well with his black hair, like a shooting star blooming in the night sky.

you lean back to admire your work.

”hmmm...”

suguru bites back a chuckle, at the intense contemplation etched onto your features. seemingly very deep in thought, you furrow your brows and absentmindedly stroke your chin — studying him with a serious expression, a tilt of your head and narrowed eyes, as if you’re an art dealer examining a painting on display. 

(you’re so silly, he thinks. the thought is positively overflowing with fondness.)

finally, you seem to reach some kind of conclusion; and your eyes soften, crumbling a little at the corners, painted over with something suguru can’t quite place. whatever it is, he suddenly finds it a little harder to breathe — all that love crammed into the confines of his chest, clogging up his throat. your eyes crinkle when you smile, oh so sweetly, burrowing your way deeper into his heart.

(you’re already in so deep he doubts he could ever dig you out.)

”yeah,” you exhale, a little breathless. still admiring how pretty he looks, with the morning glory in his hair. like a princess, your princess. 

your pretty, pretty boy.

a smile rests on your lips, laced with adoration. suguru feels his heartbeat pick up with a jolt, and he somehow doubts it’s just the caffeine; the sensation only deepens when your smile shifts in the light, melting into a soft grin.

”purple suits you best.”

suguru blinks. giving him no time to respond, you turn on your heel and continue walking, expecting him to follow. thoroughly satisfied after seeing your sudden objective through to the end — he looks just as pretty as you knew he would.

but suguru has to take a moment to simply watch, as you skip on ahead. always excited and off in your own world. the sun personified, he often thinks, peeking out after a rainshower, shining as you please. bringing light and warmth wherever you go.

maybe he would feel embarrassed, if he was another person. someone more insecure in their masculinity, less in love with you.

fortunately, that is not the case. suguru lifts a hand to stroke the flower, delicately, careful so it doesn’t loosen and flutter away with the wind. his heart feels warm. cheap caffeine and sweet thoughts rushing through his veins.

”— suguru?”

his gaze flits up to meet yours, where you stand a little further ahead, confused eyes looking into his own. a little tilt of your head is all it takes for him to move; catching up to you in long strides, a smile on his face.

”sorry. got lost in thought.”

you take his hand in yours, fingers intertwining with his own, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. as if your hands belong together. his smile widens.

”don’t like it?” you ask, nodding vaguely in the direction of the morning glory. suguru squeezes your hand reassuringly.

”not at all. thank you, baby,” he soothes, a teasing tilt to his smile. eyes hopelessly softened. ”does it look good on me?”

a little chuckle flows from your lips. breathing out a silent response — don’t ask me questions you already know the answers to. but you opt to indulge him, all the same, turning towards him with an affectionate gaze. ”of course,” you coo. ”you’re the prettiest.”

suguru can’t bite back the soft grin that blooms on his lips, and he wonders if you notice the red hue crawling up his neck — faint, but awfully telling. to distract you from it, recognizing a glint of familiar mischief in your eyes, he reaches a hand out to pull your cheek. gently, not enough to hurt you.

the little wince that escapes you tugs at his heartstrings, though, even though he knows you’re just being dramatic to make him feel bad. he can only hope the teasing smile he sends your way will be enough to fluster you, his eyes smoothed over with a deep sincerity.

”you’re one to talk.”

it takes a second or two for his words to sink in. and he can pinpoint the exact instant that they do, from the way you avert your gaze, swiftly, face heating up adorably. suguru stifles a coo.

a little huff leaves your lips, vaguely embarrassed — muttering something unintelligible under your breath. you let go of his hand and take a couple long steps forward, to avoid his teasing gaze. 

suguru follows behind, dutifully, with a fond chuckle. it scatters away in the spring breeze, dancing up into the blue of the sky, caressing the morning glory in his hair.

he takes your hand in his, once more. 

you don’t let go.

#challenging myself by writing drabbles that dont turn into 10k fics #youve heard of the babygirlification of satoru gojo well get ready for the babygirlification of suguru geto #soft sugu my beloved !! <333 hes so dreamy. so bf coded. my pretty princess . #he is so….. acts of service. words of affirmation . do u see my vision #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #geto fluff

[ddejavvu]

Hello! can i have an order of clams to share with steve harrington :) reader reaching out for steve’s hand while she’s asleep as some form of comfort and steve absolutely melts at the action <3

you are formally invited to ddejavvu's 10K dinner party, now serving fish

--

Steve glances over from the magazine he's reading, flashlight in hand as you toss and turn beside him. A frown wrinkles your brow, tugging it down towards your eyes, and a soft whimper oozing from your throat.

"Hey," He whispers, his hand splayed out over the bedspread beside your own, "Y/N? You're havin' a nightmare, honey."

You don't hear him, but apparently you feel the weight of his hand dip the bed, because your own slides above it. Your skin against his has always felt so natural, so right, but he marvels at just how perfect it feels when you have no idea you're doing it. That must mean something, right? The way that your frown disappears, slowly fading into neutrality, and a soft sigh escapes your nose.

That means something, Steve decides, and he raises your intertwined hands to kiss the back of yours, That means that you love him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one-shot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington hc #steve harrington hcs #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington dialogue #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader fanfiction #ddejavvu's 10k dinner party !!

[separatist-apologist]

Give Me Something Beautiful

Summary: Mating bond snapped for Cassian and Nesta at the first dinner in the human lands (this was the prompt and this is still a drabble. A casual, very laid back 10k word drabble)

Note: MANAGE YOUR EXPECTATIONS

Read on AO3

“Do not embarrass me,” Rhysand snarled, eyes bouncing between Cassian and Azriel. Azriel remained stiff backed, his face all but carved from stone. Though Cassian felt the same apprehension radiating from Azriel’s rigid body, he forced himself to grin. 

“Lighten up, Rhys,” Cassian said, resisting the urge to grit his teeth. “If Feyre’s sisters are even half as lovely and charming as she is, I suspect we’ll have a good time.”

Azriel’s frown only deepened. It was Cassian’s favorite game to play—how many times could he suggest he was interested in Feyre before Rhys snapped and finally admitted he was in love with her? At least once more it seemed, as Rhys merely ran a hand through his inky hair, a cool expression on the High Lord’s face.

Dumbass, Cassian thought loudly before slamming the mental walls of his mind up. Rhys’s upper lip curled, violet eyes flashing with irritation.

“I mean it. They’re human and we’re…” “Their worst nightmare,” Azriel intoned flatly. Cassian clapped Azriel on the shoulder, still smiling even as his gut clenched.

“That’s the spirit,” he said cheerfully. Someone had to keep the mood light though privately, Cassian was dreading this journey. He’d seen enough of Feyre and heard the ranting stories Rhys shared in private to know he had no interest in meeting either one of the Archeron sisters. At best they were neglectful and at worst, well…maybe he’d snap his teeth a little. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Rhys ordered, reading Cassian’s thoughts. Whoops. He hadn’t meant to shout that so loudly. Azriel’s hazel eyes slid toward Cassian, one dark brow raised in question. Cassian shook out his hands.

“She’s just…so…young,” he finally said, unsure how else to word it. Sad, too, though there was no reason to rub salt in Rhys’s wounds. Rhys clenched his jaw and nodded. 

“We need them. Keep your fucking thoughts to yourself,” he ordered, magic lacing his every word. Both siphons on Cassian and Azriel’s hands flared in response, their knees buckling as they forced themselves to remain upright. Rhys wouldn’t make them bow but he would make them yield. 

There was no further conversation. Feyre sent word silently and Rhys’s expression immediately became one of yearning. Cassian and Azriel exchanged several glances on their way out the door. How did Feyre not notice? It was almost painful to watch, their dance one Cassian hoped never to participate in. 

Sometimes, when he stood too closely to the pair of them, he swore what shimmered between his brother and Feyre was the ever elusive mating bond. And that made him nervous, too. Cassian recalled when his hand brushed the back of Feyre’s some little electric shock convinced him to put space between them as something strange raked down his senses. Something old, something that made him distinctly uncomfortable. 

Feyre had gone ahead to plead with her sisters and her face told Cassian they’d agreed but reluctantly. Even now, Cassian wondered why they couldn’t do this simple thing for her. Why everything had to be so difficult for Feyre.

Such a fight. 

He wondered the entire flight over, trying to untangle the knot that had built in his chest. The strangest feeling of excitement and dread had built until he was all but crawling in his skin. He wanted to veer toward spring, to circle overhead until he learned what Tamlin was up to. Let Rhysand play courtier—that had never been Cassian’s strong suit to begin with.

But Cassian suspected Feyre wanted her old life to converge with her new one, and for that reason alone he landed on the sprawling lawn with as much care as he could manage. Azriel had far more grace though he carelessly trampled some carefully planted tulips as he made his way toward the stone laid path. 

They could smell the fear before they ever reached the door. Cassian marveled at the sprawling estate, trying to reconcile it with the story Rhys had told him regarding Feyre’s life before the mountain, before Prythian. He’d seen less wealth in castles—in some of the palaces High Lords occupied. 

Feyre seemed ill at ease when she pulled open the door to allow them in. Tucking his wings in tight, Cassian tucked under the doorway to avoid hitting his head against the wood. None of it had been built with creatures like him in mind. 

The cloying scent of salt and fear threatened to overwhelm him as Feyre beckoned for them to follow behind her. There was something else lingering in the air. Something sweet, some call that his gut answered even as his brain scrambled to untangle. Cassian’s own anxiety slid into pure, animal excitement. He’d heard human food was inedible but perhaps that was merely a rumor. The desert-like scent in the air was certainly making promises. A ribbon of vanilla and honey—or cinnamon and clove. Something warm, something that reminded him of untarnished snow and crackling, comforting flame. 

It took Cassian a moment to realize the hint of metal sang just beneath the sweet, though he very much doubted there were those sorts of weapons in this place. Beside him Azriel didn’t seem to be concerned and Rhys was so busy studying Feyre with that familiar look of longing to notice anything else. 

Cassian wanted to extend his wings and couldn’t quite figure out why. Get it together, he ordered himself silently. They were just humans and this was one meal, one night, and then one miserable meeting with the cunty queens he didn’t expect to help. 

Cassian complemented the house, trying like he always did to ease some of the tension. It did little for the three people surrounding him. Feyre’s face was drawn and tight, which made Rhys edgy even as he tried to hide it. He’d sent his own wings away while Azriel had banished his shadows in an attempt to set Feyre’s sisters at ease. 

Cassian sized the three of them up. Even without the magic rolling off them in obvious, visual waves, there was nothing that could be done that would make humans comfortable around them. They were so obviously different it was almost funny. 

Almost. 

Cassian took a breath and stepped into the brightness of dusk filled dining room. Two women stood just beside the window, gold gilding their brown hair. Swallowing, he took in the smaller one first—wide, nervous brown eyes bounced between him and Azriel, staring not at their faces but the wings just behind. They both attempted to tuck them tighter, stomach clenching in the process. Cassian wanted to reach for the twin swords strapped along his spine and resisted, not wanting to see the trembling female faint.

The taller sister stepped ever so slightly in front of her, amethyst gown whispering some silent warning. Cassian looked to her face, expecting to find similar beauty trembling back at him.

His whole body ignited at the sight of those silvery blue eyes staring directly at him with defiance. No fear, he marveled, drinking in the face of the most beautiful female he’d ever seen in his immortal existence. Her high cheekbones, her curved brows, and her full lips set in a tight line made his blood sing, made him stand just a little straighter as though she outwardly demanded it.

Look at me, look at me, look—

She stumbled backward, knocking into the sister behind her a mere second before all the air was expelled from Cassian’s lungs. A siphoned hand flew to his chest to try and steady his frantic heart. A muscle in his chest ripped open, unknown to him right until that moment when it was pulled taut. 

“My sisters,” Feyre said, her voice faraway as though she were screaming to him underwater. “Nesta and Elain Archeron.”

Nesta, Nesta, Nesta. Cassian was certain he’d dreamt that name before. Rhys’s head whipped toward Cassian, eyes flashing.

What the fuck is going on? The High Lords voice rang through his mind, talons slicing his warded walls to ribbons. Cassian let him in, swallowing had as Nesta righted herself. He could hear her frantic heart, a mirror for his own. 

There was ringing silence in his head as Rhys parsed through the last ten seconds and then a heaving, heavy sigh. 

Cauldron fuck me, Rhys said. 

“Get them out of here,” Nesta Archeron’s voice said, wavering even as her iron spine did not. Feyre gaped, face paling. 

“You said—”

“I’ve changed my mind!” Nesta declared, her voice shrill. She was still looking at him, accusation lining those stunning eyes. “I want them out right now! Get them out of this house before—”

“It’s just you,” Rhys interrupted smoothly, reading Nesta’s thoughts quickly. Azriel looked over at Cassian, who’d thrown his hands up in defense. “Elain is fine.”

“What’s going on?” Elain whispered, tears brimming the bottom of her eyes. 

Nesta’s upper lip curled over her teeth and though he knew he shouldn’t, Cassian grinned as his human mate turned to face off with the High Lord. She had to be crazy to think she could withstand him and yet Cassian thought if they came to blows, Nesta might come out on top from sheer will alone. 

It didn’t stop him from daring a step toward Rhys. 

“This is still my house,” she hissed, unaware that just behind her, Elain had clutched her cobalt dress in nervous, trembling fingers. Two fat tears slid down her cheeks, unnoticed as she waited to see what would happen. “Get him out of here.”

“My name is Cassian,” Cassian told her stupidly, wanting her to look at him again. “And I’m not leaving.”

Someone had to guard her, after all. He’d already promised Rhys he’d keep an eye on the estate though back when he’d agreed, he’d figured he’d fly a few circles overhead at night and otherwise keep his distance.

Now he’d be sleeping outside Nesta Archeron’s door whether she liked it or not. And judging by the anger radiating off that perfect face, Cassian suspected it would  be the latter.

“No one is leaving,” Feyre declared, still bewildered. She stepped between Rhys and her eldest sister, looking between them both. “And no one is fighting. Whatever is going on—”

“He’s done something!” Nesta declared, crossing her arms over her chest. Cassian forced himself not to look at her breasts swelled over her neckline, eyes snapping back to her face. His mate—this was his mate. “You swore there would be no magic.”

Cassian couldn’t help his loud laugh. “I did something?” he shot back incredulously. “It was you, Nesta Archeron. You and your eyes–”

“That’s enough!” Rhys ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There was no magic. What you two feel…” he took a breath as both Azriel and Elain inched away from Cassian and Nesta instinctively, uninterested in getting caught in the crosshairs. 

“Oh, no,” Feyre whispered, her expression falling. 

“It’s a mating bond,” Rhys finally said, forcing the words out as though they pained him.

“It’s nothing,” Nesta insisted. Cassian pretended that didn’t wound him, forcing his smile to remain unchanged.

“We’ll see,” he replied.

“We should eat,” Elain said, catching the way Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel all stiffened at the suggestion. Rhys turned to Cassian, a warning in his eyes not to try anything when it came to Nesta Archeron. Cassian knew he was too confrontational without saying a word in response. If Nesta wanted to serve him, he wasn’t going to stop her. In fact, he welcomed her placing a dish in front of him even if it was the foul human food.

Anything that might make her feel the same instinctual need thrumming through him. 

It was only Feyre and her nervous eyes that kept Cassian from doing anything but dipping his head. She wanted her sisters to like them and this new, unexpected roadblock had certainly thrown a wrench in those plans. 

It was pure tragedy to see the dining table lined with silver dishes. While Nesta took the chair at the head of the table, Feyre began pulling open lids loudly, her frustration plain. She was the one who went around and served Cassian, dumping things indiscriminately onto his plate. Rhys and Azriel watched, serving themselves quietly and carefully in response to the clattering spoons. 

Cassian sat as close to Nesta as he could get given her sisters now flanked her. It was amusing to think Elain might be trying to protect Nesta. 

Feyre and Rhys tried making small talk and Nesta, who was practically burning for a fight, started with Feyre. Cassian was watching, shoveling food tastelessly into his mouth. 

Do it, do it, do it— he was practically on his knees begging for her attention. When Nesta asked Feyre if their food wasn’t good enough, Cassian saw an opportunity and took it. 

“I have little interest in ever setting foot in your land, so I’ll have to take your word on it.”

Their eyes met, her brow arched. Cassian imagined many a male at withered to dust beneath that look but oh, how he savored it. For five hundred years, Cassian had been looking for a worthy opponent. Someone as strong as he was, as capable. Someone who might best him without the use of the High Lords magic–and even Rhys couldn’t beat him in a hand to hand fight. 

“You might like my home,” Cassian told her, setting his fork back to the table. Nesta’s eyes flashed and Cassian wondered how depraved it made him to wish she’d fly across over those elegant dish ware and wrap her hands around his throat. 

At least then she’d be touching him. And oh, but how he wanted to feel those hands against his skin, even if she was pummeling him into oblivion. Especially if she was pummeling him into oblivion.

Azriel coughed politely while Rhys stared up at the chandelier and too late, Cassian realized arousal must have been rolling off him. 

“I might,” Nesta agreed with a predator's smile, “if it were burning to the ground.”

“That’s enough!” Feyre interrupted as Rhys’s fork clattered to his plate. It wasn’t, though. Nesta wasn’t finished eviscerating Cassian and Cassian was going to let her. He held her stare, head cocked.

I’m not scared of you, he thought. It was only half a lie. What happened when Feyre explained to Nesta how mating bonds worked? The female before him was likely to break it simply because she could. There was no love for his kind in those eyes. 

“And when it's your home that's burning first?” Cassian asked her. “Mine has already been thoroughly wrecked and might have been nothing but ash if your sister hadn’t come along.”

Nesta hesitated long enough for Cassian to understand some small piece of the female tied to him by fate itself. Nesta didn’t know what had happened in Prythian, then. Didn’t know what had caused Feyre’s transformation or, if she did, she didn’t wholly understand it. Cassian imagined Feyre might have downplayed the worst of things to spare her sisters. 

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” Nesta asked him, regaining herself with a quick blink of those mesmerizing eyes. “To keep my home safe.”

Cassian offered her a smile. “That’s exactly right.”

Azriel coughed again, his cheeks burning as he kept his eyes on his plate. Cassian’s smile slipped—he wasn’t aroused. Even Feyre couldn’t look at her sister, though she remained silent as Cassian realized this time it was Nesta’s faint arousal in the air, snuffed out like a candle when she realized herself. Cassian doubted she knew their senses had all caught it, and if anyone told her, Cassian thought he might kill them. Nesta didn’t seem like she handled embarrassment well and if she learned, Cassian was certain she’d lean hard into her anger and fear and he’d never scent it again.

Dinner passed quietly after that. Elain made awkward small talk with an equally awkward Azriel, allowing the rest of them to say nothing. And when they finished, both Nesta and Elain vanished, leaving only the latter to return later to show them to their respective rooms for the evening. 

Neither Azriel nor Cassian commented on Feyre and Rhys sharing a bed chamber and Elain was far too modest to do anything but close the door quickly, eyes wide with embarrassment.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve put you away from…” Elain chewed the inside of her cheek. Cassian only shrugged. It was to be expected that everyone would want him far, far away from Nesta Archeron. For all he knew, Nesta herself had ordered he be put outside. If she’d told him herself to sleep in the stables, he would have done it. She wasn’t going to speak to him and he wasn’t going to make things more difficult. 

Elain vanished the moment she’d unlocked the door at the end of the empty hall. The best was big enough to accommodate his wings though little else. Cassian sighed, ignoring it and the roaring fireplace in favor of the large, closed windows. He flung them open and angled his head to look up at the sky. Stars were blotted out by gray clouds and though his eyes were sharp, even in the distance he could see nothing of his home. 

Had he infuriated the Mother so badly she’d pair him with a human. How long would it take Cassian to convince Nesta she could trust him? And how much longer after that before time stole her from him? Cassian had an eternity ahead of him, stretching miserably as he considered that eighty years were nothing, and somehow everything all at once.

What was worse? Being allowed to love her for the span of time he’d been given, or her breaking the bond and knowing one day he’d feel it vanish from his chest like it had never been there at all. Potentially watching his brothers find mates knowing his own had rejected him, moved on, and died and he’d never have a fraction of what they did? 

He was sliding into pity when he heard feather soft footsteps in the hall. Cassian turned from the window, bracing himself for a fight when the handle to the door turned. There she was—still dressed in the amethyst gown. Her golden brown hair was braided in a crown around her head while a silver necklace adorned the delicate column of her throat. Cassian couldn’t breathe while he looked at her.

Nesta kept her hand on the golden knob of the door even as she closed it. As if he might snatch her up and lock her away.

The thought was tempting.

“Feyre says this thing between us can be broken,” she began, saying the words he dreaded the most. Cassian kept his expression flat, not daring to let her see that one sentence threatened to unmake him. 

Silence stretched endlessly, forcing him to speak. “Do it, then.”

Her eyes flashed. Cassian squared his shoulders, bracing himself for whatever words Rhys had told Feyre to tell Nesta—the words that would unravel the spell between them just as quickly as it had settled.

“Feyre says you plan to watch us after the queen's leave tomorrow.”

It wasn’t a question, though Cassian answered anyway. “Yes.”

“Even if I break the bond?”

“You think my help is conditional?” he challenged. 

“You’re a man aren’t you?” she shot back. Cassian dared a small step toward her. Nesta didn’t flinch nor did she shrink back. She merely watched, waiting to see what would happen.

“No, Nesta Archeron. I am not a man.” 

And because he was so very, very stupid, Cassian unfurled his wings just to illustrate his point. He was a fae male, not a human man. 

“What’s the difference?” she demanded, her heart thudding so loud it was the only thing he could hear. Cassian couldn’t make heads or tails of the scent coming off her—it wasn’t fear or arousal, but something else. Something that excited him all the same. 

“Would you like to find out?” 

Say yes, say yes, say yes— “I don’t want you to…” Nesta took a breath, exhaling it slowly through pretty, pink lips. “We’re alone here.”

Careful so not to scare her, Cassian reached for the knife sheathed along his thigh. Nesta tracked the movement with that predator's gaze. She could have been a powerful warrior if she’d wanted to be. Could have brought kings to their knees with those eyes. 

“Take it,” Cassian told her, holding the silver hilted weapon in his hands. “Put it under your pillow.”

“What will this do?”

“If you’re quick about it, and someone dares to try and sneak up on you, it’ll kill them ideally,” he told her, unwilling to admit how achy and tight he felt at the thought of her covered in blood. Furious, too, when he imagined the sort of person that might creep into her bedroom late at night.

“Buy yourself time until I arrive.”

Nesta darted forward, fingers brushing his own. “How will you know I’m in trouble?” she asked him, not moving away. She was close enough to touch, close enough to taste. Not this night, he knew. There was something lingering in her gaze, some old wound Cassian could guess well enough. 

You’re a man, aren’t you? 

Cassian would kill whoever had hurt her. Just the thought someone had been so careless with his mate made him want to roar, made him want to snap his teeth and dig his fingers into soft, breakable flesh. He wanted to bring her the head of that male for her approval. 

“I’ll know,” he said instead, fighting to keep the fury from his tone. 

“What if you’re not here?” she questioned. 

“Then you fight until I can find you,” he replied, certain she would anyway. Nesta gripped the night tighter in her hand, sharp nails digging along her palm. He was going to touch her, he decided. Carefully and slowly, Cassian reached for her face and skimmed his knuckles along her high cheekbone. She let him, though she didn’t lean into the touch or otherwise show any appreciation for it. “You fight like hell.”

“And then what?” she whispered. 

Gods, had anyone ever taken care of this woman—his female? Cassian considered asking her for a list of everyone who had ever hurt her, starting from her earliest memories and working forward. 

He stepped closer, drinking in that warm scent. “And then I’ll lay the world in ashes at your feet.”

Nesta didn’t flinch, nor did she falter. She didn’t have to speak for him to know he’d get one shot to prove himself to her. One chance to show he meant what he said and that she could depend on him. That she could trust him.

“Good night, Cassian,” she said, holding his gaze for only a moment. His knees wobbled as some invisible force pushed on his shoulder, demanding he bow. He hadn’t done so since Rhysand’s father had been alive and had always been immensely resentful of it.

But now Cassian made himself low, eyes averted before his lady.

“Good night, Nes.”

The meeting with the queens was predictably shitty but Nesta was unpredictably passionate. He’d expected his mate and her sister to side with the queens but Nesta had spoken up, arguing in favor of aligning with the fae. And though Cassian didn’t dare say so out loud, he did wonder—and hope—that some of that was his influence. 

Maybe she didn’t want to see his home burn as badly as she claimed.

Cassian returned that night, flying silently through the darkness, desperate to see her. The cord in his chest shimmered, bringing him directly to her bedroom window. He could see her brushing out waist length, golden blonde hair in front of vanity when he knocked softly on the glass. She turned, eyes narrowed.

Nesta snatched up a dressing robe, covering the silken night dress that hugged every lush curve of her body and threatened to knock him from the sky before she opened the window.

“Haven’t you heard of the front door?” she hissed while Cassian wedged his too-large body into her bedroom.

“And scare your servants?” he retorted, eyes falling on the bed in the center of the room. She’d pulled the cream colored bedding back in preparation for sleep, filling his head with lewd, inappropriate thoughts. What did she do when she was all alone? 

Nesta ran her tongue along her teeth. “I figured you’d sit on the roof like a gargoyle.”

He laughed. “It’s too cold for that. I think I’d like to warm myself in front of your fire.” Her eyes were slits as he made his way toward the marble hearth, hands outstretched. “You’re supposed to be keeping us safe!”

He flashed her a grin. “No place is safer for you now—”

“And what about Elain?” she demanded, hands on her hips. Cassian forced himself not to let his gaze slide down her body though he so desperately wanted to make his appreciation plain. Nesta was too proper to enjoy that from someone she still didn’t trust, and Cassian was in it for the long haul. He could be patient, could let her come to him when she was ready. 

“She’s two doors down, Nes. I think I can make it in time,” he replied. “No one is going to hurt you.”

She bit her bottom lip, some of that apprehension shining through. 

“I won’t let them,” he added. “If I can’t be here, I can send warriors—”

“No more fae—”

“Humans, then?” he suggested, though humans weren’t likely to be helpful if it were his own kind hunting them. No one knew about Feyre’s sisters as far as Cassian knew. Just him and his brothers…and, he supposed, Tamlin in Spring Court. And while he had no love for the High Lord of Spring, he didn’t think Tamlin was the sort of male to harm unarmed, defenseless females. If he had a problem with Rhysand, he’d bring it to their doorstep for a fair fight.

“Who are you so afraid of?” Cassian asked her. “Tell me their names.”

“Why?”

He couldn’t hide his blood lust. “You know why.”

“So, is this how the mating bond works for you, then? It makes you stupid?”

Cassian laughed again. “Sweetheart, I was born stupid. Your sister is my friend—I would come even if you were nothing more to me than that.”

“She says you’re the General of the Night Court.”

Something about hearing his title on her lips made Cassian tight again. He resisted the urge to adjust his pants in favor of taking a steadying breath. He was the master of his own cock—he wasn’t going to let her see his erection unless she wanted to. 

“Yes.”

“You’d send your own soldiers to guard us?”

“If it helped you sleep at night,” he replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Do you still have the knife?”

Nesta strode to her pillow and pulled it back so he could see she’d done exactly as he said. He had to touch her again. Cassian knew he was going to leave, that he’d go sit on the roof just like she wanted him to so she could sleep. She didn’t move as he came toward her, her spine utterly straight.

He touched her cheek again.

“Sleep well, Nes.”

“Good night, Cassian.”

Every night after, Cassian came through Nesta’s window. She showed him her knife, he touched her face, and then went to keep watch on the roof. It was taking a toll on him—during the day, Cassian helped train Feyre, too. 

“When are you sleeping?” Rhys asked him when Cassian stumbled into the town house for breakfast. 

He only shrugged. “When I can.”

They were still waiting on any word from the queens about the other half of the book.

“Feyre said Nesta agreed to some of my men to stand watch. Take a night off.”

“Why don’t you take a night off?” Cassian snapped, his exhaustion getting the better of him. Without Azriel as a buffer to soften Cassian’s words, all he had was the simmering irritation of Rhys at the other end of that table staring him down.

“Cassian—”

“Are you ordering me to?” he demanded, dropping his fork to the wood so he could cross his arms over his chest. “Because I made her a promise.”

“Fuck—no, I’m not ordering you to, but you’re going to get hurt if you keep this up,” Rhys retorted hotly. “Tell her to give you a bed at least. Sleep somewhere in that fucking house, I don’t care. I need you if things get bad.”

“Maybe you should train Feyre then,” Cassian said, holding Rhys’s gaze. “It doesn’t have to be me.”

Cassian had begun to suspect Rhys’s reasons for not training Feyre were the same ones that kept Cassian on Nesta’s roof each night. He’d kept his mouth shut about it and his suspicions to himself and all he was asking for similar courtesy from Rhys.

“You’re my best warrior,” Rhys replied evenly. “And she trusts you.”

Absently, Cassian wondered if Rhys would care half as much if the bond had snapped between him and Elain. He read Rhys’s dislike for Nesta plain as day on his face. Five hundred years hadn’t broken the brotherhood between them but this might. 

“Maybe you should, too,” Cassian said simply, rising from his chair. Rhys wasn’t giving him an order, which meant Cassian would continue on as he had. 

Though, that night when he slipped into Nesta’s window like he always did, she was already in bed. Blanket to her neck so he couldn’t see an inch of her, but more relaxed than she usually was. He caught a book face down in her lap and wondered what she liked to read.

“Are you okay?” she asked harshly. Too much like Rhys, he decided with some irritation.

“Fine,” he grumbled, raking both hands through his shoulder length hair.

“You look—” she stopped herself when he pinned her with his stare. “Rhys sent warriors. Did you see them?”

“I did,” he agreed. They’d been skulking about the perimeter, just out of sight from the humans. Any fae lurking, though, would clock their presence immediately. 

“You could go home tonight if you wanted?”

How did Cassian explain she was home? The thought of sleeping in his own bed while she was out here felt unbearable to him. So he shook his head and went back toward the window, well aware Rhys was going to chew him out for it in the morning.

“Or—” Nesta took a breath, leaning forward. Strands of that thick, long hair spilled over her delicate shoulders and fuck he wanted to bury his face in it so badly it hurt. “You could stay in the house tonight?”

Relief flooded through him. “That would be nice.”

“You look like you need sleep,” she said, gesturing for the robe hanging from her vanity chair. Cassian picked it up, drinking in the scent of her skin wafting off it as he handed it to her.

Turning for the fireplace, he let her dress without being watched. She was quick about it, hair tucked into the neck as she beckoned for him to follow. Cassian all but tripped over his own feet, joining her in the hall. He expected to be sent back into exile across the estate but Nesta merely pulled open a door right across from her own.

Her scent was all over it. Cassian stepped inside, drinking in that large bed and the dark sheets neatly tucked against the mattress. Looking at her, Cassian silently questioned when she’d put this together. Nesta would never answer, but the insight was helpful. Nesta was observant—knew he needed a place to rest. And she’d made him one and then, he supposed, waited to see if he’d keep coming back before she offered it.

She hesitated at the door. “Well–”

“Wait!” he said, reaching for her slim wrist. Nesta let him touch her, eyes sliding between his hand to his face. “Thank you, Nes.”

Her cheeks warmed. Gently, she pulled from his grasp, rose up on her tiptoes, and pressed a feather soft kiss to his cheek.

“Good night, Cassian.”

It was the best night's sleep he’d ever had. 

He was going to have to leave her—for several nights while they tracked Hybern’s spies down. Cassian was dreading that conversation more than any other in his entire life. He’d put off leaving as long as could, but after a while there was nothing left for him to do but take off for the house.

He found Nesta pacing her bedroom, arms wrapped around her body tightly. Her head snapped to the window when he tapped nervously and those silvery blue eyes that so often looked at him with nothing but disdain were filled with relief. 

Cassian didn’t know what to make of that. Still, he slipped in, bracing himself for her anger.

“Where have you been?” she asked, eyes scanning him. “I thought—”

“I’m fine,” he said, reaching for the tops of her arms.

“Where were you?” she demanded, hair spilling like liquid gold down her shoulders. Nesta’s bottom lip wobbled and Cassian thought he might die at the sight. “I thought—”

“I’m fine,” he promised. Nesta wrenched from his grasp, dressed in a red night dress nearly the same shade as the siphons on his hands. Had she done it on purpose or was it merely an accident? 

“You always come at the exact same time—”

“I was afraid,” he admitted, the words spilling from his lips in a rush. “This is the last night I’ll be here for a while. I need…I have to do something and I won’t be able to watch you. I don’t want to let you down.”

She was watching him. “Let me down?” she questioned, each word carefully enunciated. Cassian braced himself for her to break his heart—to tell him she didn’t care enough about him to be disappointed by him. That everything that had happened was merely his imagination and he was nothing at all to her. “How could you possibly think you could let me down, Cassian?”

He swallowed hard. “You will be alone in the house again. And I swore I’d keep you safe.”

“The soldiers will remain,” she said, coming toward him. “And I still have your knife. I’m not disappointed—I…”

Cassian waited, holding his breath. Nesta exhaled slowly, eyes closing for just a moment. When she looked back at him, he knew he was going to kiss her. He wasn’t leaving without knowing what she tasted like, if only to motivate him to finish his job quickly so he could return to her. 

“You could never disappoint me, Cassian.”

“Give me time,” he replied, reaching for her face. This time, when he cupped her cheek, Nesta leaned into the touch. He angled her face while lowering his own slow enough that if she wanted, she could pull away.

She didn’t. 

Gods, but Nesta Archeron had the power to fully undo him. Her lips were soft and warm, her heart pounding just as loudly as his own. The bond in his chest writhed with delight despite the utterly polite, impossibly chaste kiss he offered her. Nesta was a lady and Cassian wasn’t stupid. In a better world without the looming threat of war or the fear humans had of the fae, he’d have been allowed to walk up to her door, declare his intentions, and court her the way he was certain she would have preferred. 

He didn’t have those things, but he did have five centuries of restraint. And he needed all of that practice to pull himself back when her bed was right there, and his nose was burning with the sweetness of her arousal. 

“Wait,” Nesta whispered, trying to curl her fingers into the leather of his chest. 

She didn’t need to beg him. Hell, Nesta didn’t even need to ask. Cassian kissed her again, letting her feel some of his own desire that raced through him day and night. It was Nesta who wound her arms around his neck, pressing her warm, soft body against his own. Cassian let her take the lead, his mind blissfully empty of anything but the way her lips fit against his and the sweet taste of her. 

He didn’t realize he was gripping her hips until Nesta swayed, unable to keep herself upright on her tiptoes. Cassian ought to have known better—but he was stupid, just as he’d told her he was. Adjusting his grip, he hauled her up so she didn’t have to stand at all, but could brace her body weight against his arms. 

He half expected her to slap him for it. Instead, Nesta sighed, gripped his face, and kissed him again. She didn’t wrap her legs around him which was for the best—if he’d felt the heat of her cunt against his body he probably would have gotten on his knees and begged her to let him fuck her. Cassian was positive she’d never been touched before. The first few kisses had been sweet but clumsy, though Nesta was a perfectionist and by the time he dared to trace her bottom lip with his tongue, she kissed him with the expert precision of a female who knew exactly what males liked.

She opened for him, drawing a ragged, desperate moan from his throat. She tasted better than she smelled, her tongue soft when it met his own. 

“Nesta,” he said, the words both prayer and plea as he spoke them directly into her mouth. She swallowed it greedily, kissing him again and again with the same fevered want he felt. This was his mate, in his arms, kissing him. Cassian understood why people were wary of mated males now. He would have gone to war for her. She could have pointed him in any direction and he’d have withdrawn his sword and done as she demanded.

He supposed the world ought to be grateful all Nesta wanted was peace. 

Raging hard by the time Nesta slid from his grasp, Cassian could do little more than breathe through his mouth. “I um,” she began, wrapping her arms around her body. “I don’t…”

“I know,” he said. She had no experience with this and Cassian wasn’t going to push her. Not now, not when he knew the kind of heat racing through her. “I’m going to bed. You should, too.” She nodded her head, watching him walk to her bedroom door.

“Cassian?”

He turned back to look at her. Beautiful. She was so damn beautiful.

“Be safe.”

He smiled. 

I love you too.

“What happened to you?” Nesta demanded. He’d promised to come back after that last meeting with the queens—the one where she’d begged for help and was rebuffed—and had found himself battling Hybern. In the aftermath, Cassian hadn’t meant to fall asleep in a chair, but by the time he’d woke it had been morning and Rhys wanted to plan their trip to Hybern. 

Cassian shook his head, reading the fear on her face. “I’m sorry. Nes, I’m so sorry—” “

You’re hurt,” she said. Cassian, who’d been covered in cuts and bruises since he’d been a boy, had forgotten he might still bear some of those wounds on his skin. He waved it off but she was coming to him in that red night dress and who was he to deny his mate the chance to fuss? 

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’ve had worse.”

The fear etched over her expression threatened to undo him completely. Holding her face, Cassian repeated, “I’m fine, Nes.”

“I’m not,” she whispered, so softly only his fae hearing caught it. He swallowed hard.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Stay with me?” she asked, fingers curling over his wrist. There was an unspoken please in her gaze, one he knew she didn’t dare speak aloud, if only to preserve some of her pride. Was she unaware he’d have done anything she asked him to. 

“In here?” his eyes drifted to the bed. Nesta nodded her head, her mouth set in a determined line. 

“Yes,” she said, looking him over with open disapproval. “And not in that.”

Cassian was still in his fighting leathers. He blinked. “I…I don’t have anything else to wear.”

It took Cassian too long to understand what Nesta wanted. Even after she sauntered into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, staring openly at him. Was he supposed to undress in front of her? Surely…surely she’d murder him for that? 

“Are you coming to bed?” she asked him.

“Yes?”

Cassian decided he’d just…start taking off his armor and stop whenever she told him to. He started with his weapons, setting them all gently against the same vanity she kept her jewelry. Nesta watched, knees drawn up, her eyes wide and hungry. That, he decided, must be a good sign. 

He removed his boots next, unlacing them slowly just to test that this was all read and actually happening. Nesta never took her eyes off him, even when he reached for the straps of his clothes. “Have you ever seen a naked male before?” he dared to ask, his words so obviously nervous it almost made him laugh. Had he ever been naked in front of a female before? It didn't feel like it—not with the way his fingers were stumbling over the clasps of his clothes.

“No,” she breathed. Cassian cleared his throat. He’d be the first, then. 

Nodding, he didn’t dare look at her again until he was wholly unclothed. Erect, too, which certainly didn’t help things. He could feel her eyes on him and when he dared to look, was relieved to see nothing but pure, undiluted arousal gracing that beautiful face.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked, grateful he sounded sensual rather than desperate. Nesta cocked her head, gaze wholly on his cock. It twitched beneath her scrutiny, too optimistic given the company in which they stood. For all Cassian knew, she merely wanted to look at him before she sent him on his way.

“Promise you won’t hurt me,” she said instead, her voice crisp and careful. Cassian reached out for the bedpost to keep himself upright.

“I swear,” he said. “Nesta, surely you must know…you must know I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

“And if I told you to throw yourself from the roof?” she asked. Cassian held her gaze.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I know,” she replied before curving a finger, beckoning him forward. Cassian tripped over his own feet, flopping to the bed. Nesta laughed—actually laughed—which propelled him toward her.

That smile turned her already stunning face into something ethereal. Cassian crawled to her, blanketing them both beneath his wings when he reached her face.

Holding it in his hands, he murmured, “You’re so damn beautiful.”

“Cass,” she murmured, her smile softening. That was enough. He didn’t need her to say anything else and didn’t think Nesta was able to. Maybe she never would be. Maybe it would be her lifetime of knowing she felt the same without ever hearing the words spoken.

It was enough. Ghosting his lips over her own and ignoring the way his cock was throbbing, Cassian murmured, “There will be nobody else. For either of us.” He wanted her to know that it had already been decades upon decades of no one already. That for as long as she’d been alive, there’d been only one person, for a quick, brief moment that had left him feeling less satisfied than before. And he wondered if somehow he hadn’t known his mate was out there waiting for him, tempering his hot blood. 

And Cassian knew when Nesta left the world, he was likely to go with her. Once they’d finished with Hybern, he resolved himself to see Helion Spell-Cleaver’s libraries and ask if there wasn’t some spell that might bind them, might strip him of his immortality so he could live one last lifetime with her.

Just the thought eased the tension weighing him down. Surely he wasn’t the first fae to love a human. Cassian kissed her and Nesta kissed back, pouring all her unspoken emotion into the act. It made him want to cry, made him want to be the sort of male who wrote sonnets and expressed himself with eloquence and ease. 

He had his hands and his mouth, though. And Nesta would know, by the time they finished, the depth of his devotion when it came to her. There would be no question of it, nor would she ever doubt him. It was selfish, but in his mind, Cassian was hoping he’d convince her to leave the mortal lands and live with him in Velaris where they’d be safe—and together. 

And if they succeeded in Hybern and prevented a war, Cassian could see no reason why she couldn’t, though he could imagine a million reasons why she wouldn’t. Elain, primarily, who was still engaged. Perhaps once Nesta saw her married, he rationalized.

Focus, he ordered himself. He was too distracted by too many possibilities when Nesta Archeron was warm and pliant beneath him. Willing, too, given the arousal perfuming the air around them. He was nervous, reaching for her shoulder—at any moment Cassian expected Nesta to hit him hard, to scream at him, to demand he get far, far away from her. 

Nesta’s teeth nipped his bottom lip, pulling a soft moan of pleasure from his throat. She shivered, goosebumps erupting on her delicate arm. It convinced him to keep moving, his hands skimming the sides of her body until he found the hem of her night dress. 

“Arch your back,” he whispered against her mouth and Gods, but she did it without complaint. Nesta blinked open those big eyes, her lashes dark and thick and then, like every fantasy he’d ever had, did exactly as he asked. Cassian groaned without meaning to, swallowing hard as he raised the silken material over her head and then tossed it to the floor. 

Naked. 

Cassian could only stare at the unblemished body of his mate, unhidden by any blanket, though if someone were to fly by all they’d see would be his massive wings obscuring her from view.

And then they’d see the Mother, because he was pretty sure he’d kill someone for even trying. 

“Nes,” he whispered, certain it was sacrilegious to even touch her. Nesta trembled, waiting for him to say something but words were failing Cassian. In five hundred years, he had nothing that compared to her, to how beautiful he found her, how much she meant to him.

Shaking his head, certain he’d say the wrong thing, Cassian returned to kissing her. That was safer, and an easier way to express himself besides. Nesta seemed relieved, returning the gesture with the sort of gusto that made him half wild with need. Cassian touched her with less hesitation, cupping the breasts he’d spent the last few weeks trying so hard not to look at. It seemed worth it to him, not. She was so fucking soft, so warm and willing that his hips jerked in response.

Nesta did, too. She moaned softly, her tongue clashing with his own. He wanted to feel that tongue against his chest, his stomach, his cock. He’d teach her when he came back. He’d show Nesta exactly what he liked, how to get him off in as few touches as possibly—and how to prolong things for as long as she wished.

Cassian was so wrapped up in the fantasy, he didn’t notice her reach for his wings until she ran her finger along the edge. His hips jerked again and Cassian came without warming, grunting roughly. Nesta laughed again, her eyes wide with delight.

“Did you just—”

“Yes,” he said, catching her by the wrist and pinning it over her head. “An Illyrian’s wings are very sensitive.”

“They’re soft,” she said without an ounce of repentance. Privately, Cassian thought it was better this way—now, when he entered her, he wouldn’t be so fucking close. He wanted to see Nesta Archeron come all over his cock. He wanted to see his proper, well-bred lady unspool around him until she was just as wanton as he’d always imagined. 

Before she could come on his cock, though, she needed to come on his tongue. That he knew with absolute certainty. And since he’d come twice, she needed to, too. Besides, Nesta Archeron was untouched and had asked him not to hurt her, which meant he needed to work her into what was twitching between his legs. 

“Yes,” he agreed, kissing the corner of her mouth. “The only part of me that is, too.”

“Male pride is something else,” she crooned as Cassian licked a path down her neck. He hummed his agreement before drawing one of those rosy nipples into his mouth. She tasted so fucking good it made his chest ache. It also silenced Nesta, who raked her nails into his hair. She undid the messy half knot he’d thrown in right before leaving, tossing the leather strap somewhere in the room. He’d never find it again, a small price to pay if it meant pleasing her. 

“If I do something you don’t like, I need you to tell me,” he said, looking up at her flushed face. Nesta was uncharacteristically speechless, nodding her head while Cassian continued his path between her legs. He dared to spread them wide, to look at her flushed, gleaming sex. 

“Promise me, Nes. I need to hear you say it.”

“I promise,” she whispered, arching when his thumb slicked through the wet. Cassian circled her clit, watching the way her hips bucked without warning.

“Do you ever touch yourself like this?” he asked. It was something he’d wondered many times while sitting on her roof. More than once he’d been tempted to fly down just to see and knew he wouldn’t have been able to restrain himself if he’d found her with her hand beneath the sheets. 

“Yes,” she whispered. He groaned at the thought.

“What do you imagine?” 

“You,” she rasped, reaching for his head as he replaced his thumb with his tongue. “Cassian—oh, gods—”

Oh, gods, indeed. She was sweet like that first scent of her, a reminder of walking through her house all those weeks before. Cassian had intended to go exceptionally slow, to draw the night out. He was running out of time and he knew it—a claw raked against his senses as Rhysand demanded to know where he was. Cassian shoved him out. 

Bother someone else he thought viciously. He’d return before dawn, but for now this time was his. Rhysand wasn’t allowed everything. Certainly not when Nesta’s legs were spread wide and she was gripping his hair so roughly there was real danger she might rip it from his head.

Cassian licked again, and again, and again, until he too was fucking the sheets and his cocking was practically weeping precome. 

Focus, he ordered himself again. It was too easy to get lost in instinct, to chase what felt good and forget that his mate was more than just new to being touched, but human, too. Whether Nesta agreed with him or not, she was fragile—breakable even. Bruises wouldn’t heal in minutes and he’d be damned if he was the one who was the cause of that guarded, suspicious look in her eyes. 

Cassian slid a finger into her body and nearly came again. She was so tight, so wet and warm clenched around his one finger that he couldn’t stop the whine that escaped him. He needed to work her up to taking him but more importantly, he needed to be inside her. Forcing himself to breathe, Cassian continued to lick as he worked a second, and finally a third finger into her.

Nesta was panting, writhing her hips on the sheets until the corner peeled from the mattress and bunched around her shoulder. 

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he rasped, though his words were half for himself. 

“Don’t stop,” she said. It wasn’t a plea so much as an order and the soldier that had been trained in him practically since birth straightened to obey. He couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to, and Cassian supposed it was lucky all she wanted was for him to keep going. He focused, trying to treat what he was doing clinically though he was failing miserably. His cock throbbed between his legs, wedged against his body and each time he moved his hands, his wings brushed over her shoulders. 

“Cassian,” she panted. His name on her lips was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard. He was unraveling just as quickly as she was. Nothing had ever filled him with more relief than when she broke apart, her hand covering her mouth so the whole house wouldn’t hear her. He’d bring her to Illyria just as soon as he could, if only to hear her scream.

Even if it meant he had to bring her back when he finished. Maybe she’d enjoy flying. Cassian hoped so. 

“Cassian—” Nesta gasped when his mouth covered her own, forcing her to taste her release still branded on his tongue. Nesta moaned, legs still wide as he positioned himself between them.

Forcing himself to remain still, he let her watch through half lidded eyes while he licked the taste of her from his fingers.

“Tell me to stop if I hurt you,” he whispered, notching the head of his cock against her still throbbing entrance. Nesta nodded, swallowing audibly. She was wet, she was aroused, and he’d used his fingers to try and ease her into the thickness of him. There was nothing else he could do other than go slow and let her adjust inch by inch.

Even if it was torture to do so. 

“Breathe,” he said again, once again speaking more to himself than to her. “Just breathe.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” she said, poking him in the ribs. 

“It’s not supposed to,” he replied, sliding himself further into her body. It was heaven and hell, her cunt so tight he couldn’t think straight. The bond in his chest writhed desperately, begging him to take more, to do it all much quicker. 

It was worth it once he was seated wholly inside her, gazing down at her lovely, flushed form to find her looking right back at him. Nesta squeezed, punching the air from his lungs. 

“I’m not breakable, Cassian,” she told him. Cassian didn’t know if he agreed, though he did gather up her wrists to hold them over her head. Nesta arched, testing his grip which was ironclad and unmovable.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, lowering his head and rolling his hips at the same time. Nesta’s breath caught. “Do you want me to fuck you, Nes?”

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes fluttering shut. Cassian thrust into her, testing to see what she could take. 

“How about this?” he asked, pumping harder. Nesta whined softly, her breasts bouncing when he did it again and again. She was so responsive and so wet. Cassian had once prided himself on his ability to last. What a joke. He wasn’t going to make it another five minutes. Cassian reached between her legs and began to rub at her clit again, focusing on a steady rhythm rather than winding her up. There would be time once they were out of Hybern. He’d explain how to accept the bond and he’d have that time with her. 

He wondered if she knew the writhing need she felt was a result of their shared bond. Cassian might have told her if he’d had the capacity for speech. All he had was her beneath him, dragging her nails down his shoulders now that her hands were free. As she built back up, tightening around him with each new wave of pleasure, Nesta’s back left the bed until he was practically holding her in his lap with a shaking arm.

“Nesta,” he whispered into her hair. He was praying and he knew it and when Nesta’s teeth sank into his shoulder, biting to keep her from screaming again, Cassian could only plead, “Nesta.”

He was asking for mercy, for forgiveness, for absolution.

His orgasm shot through him like a storm, swallowing him entirely with violent, incandescent pleasure. More, more, more, something begged. He couldn’t, though. Not tonight, not yet. Working to catch his breath, Cassian merely held her until there was nothing left inside him. He could feel his release sliding between the space of their bodies, joining his original mess on the sheets. 

Nesta wound her arms around his neck, face buried in his skin. “You’re leaving.”

It wasn’t a question.

“I’ll be back,” he swore. “And nothing will keep us apart again.”

He could all but smell her doubt, but Nesta nodded her head. “We’ll…we’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll have this time, Nes. I promise.”

Somewhere in the darkness, Cassian could hear screaming. Her screaming. Wake up, wake up, wake up— he groaned, lifting his head to try and get to her. A million knives cut into his back pulled him back under, but not before he saw Nesta Archeron fighting like hell. Screaming her lungs out, trying to get away. 

You promised! You promised! Cassian could hear Nesta screaming it in his head. You promised to keep me safe! 

He reached for her, fingers gripping the cool, smooth floors. Groaning, he tried to drag himself forward.

Darkness swept over him again.

You failed. 

You promised.

Cassian woke with a start, bucking in bed. “Nesta,” he breathed, ignoring both Rhysand and Mor sitting in his bedroom. “Where is Nesta?” Mor’s pretty face paled, confirming all his worst fears. Dead—Nesta was dead. Scrambling, Cassian reached into his chest but nothing was there—only empty space where a bond had once been. 

“Cassian,” Rhys said, rising to his feet, palms outstretched.

“Don’t,” Cassian warned, ignoring the pain radiating in his back. His wings. He’d forgotten his wings, shredded to nothing by Hybern. Twisting, he found them intact, bound carefully in gauze. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Nesta is alive,” Rhys said, his face carefully neutral. “She’s upstairs with Elain.”

“I need to see her,” Cassian said, ignoring that he was only in a pair of shorts and couldn’t remember how he’d gotten here. He remembered nothing of coming back, of whatever had been done to repair his body. All he remembered were flashes of Nesta, a gag in her mouth and her wrists bound. Of the Cauldron, of— “Right now.”

“Cass—”

“Right! Now!” he roared, pushing past two of his oldest friends. Neither of them tried to stop him, nor did they follow him. If Nesta was alive, why couldn’t he feel her? Why was the bond silent in his chest—a gaping wound that said she’d died? He didn’t believe Rhys or Mor, though rationally he knew they wouldn’t lie to him.  

Cassian forced himself up a winding set of stairs where the scent of Nesta was stronger. Heart pounding, he braced himself for something horrible. Maybe, he thought wildly, she’d broken the bond while he’d been unconscious and that was why he couldn’t feel her. Surely the magic would still obey her?

“Nes?” he called carefully, his palms clammy. Swallowing, Cassian made his way toward the study. “Nesta?”

He pushed open the door just as she stood, smoothing out the same amethyst dress she’d worn when they met. Cassian gripped the door frame, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. It was Nesta—and it wasn’t. Her beautiful face, her lithe form but magnified in the glow of immortality. Her eyes, lined silver with concern as she came toward him. And her ears…delicately arched through her neatly braided hair.

“You’re awake,” she said, stopping close enough to touch. Cassian forgot about the pain of his back in favor of his fractured heart. He took a breath as the bond returned, snapping as it once had all those weeks before. He caught her eyes flutter shut, saw the flickering relief grace her features.

“You died.” 

It wasn’t a question. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t move as she nodded her head. “Yes.”

The noise that escaped him drew her attention. Cassian didn’t care, reaching for her even as his legs gave out. The two of them fell to the floor in a heap of limbs, smooshed together as he tried to piece it all together. She’d gone in that Cauldron and he…he’d let it happen. 

“I’m sorry.”

Nesta twisted, mindful of his bound wings, so she could hold his face. “For what?”

“I promised to keep you safe—”

“I fought,” she whispered, interrupting him before he could fall apart. Tears pricked the back of Cassian’s eyes. “Just like you said. I took something, Cassian, I…”

Nesta swallowed, eyes darting toward the hall as though she expected someone to come bursting through.

“I think I came back wrong.”

Cassian shook his head. “No—no, you’re perfect. We’ll figure everything else out together. You…are…you’re living here?”

Nesta looked over his shoulder again, lowering her voice. “We can’t go back.”

We. Elain. “You’ll stay with me. I won’t leave you. Not again. Never again.”

Nesta pressed her forehead to his. “Okay.”

Raking his fingers through her hair, Cassian repeated himself. “I’m sorry, Nes. I’m so fucking sorry.”

But it was Nesta—sweet, too forgiving Nesta, even if no one but he knew it—who said, “I love you Cassian. There is nothing you could do I wouldn’t forgive.”

He didn’t plan to test that theory, though. “I love you, Nes. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

She took a breath. “Together.”

#nessian #nessian fanfic #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian acotar #this is a DRABBLE #dont we all occasionally go insane and write 10k words in a day?

[serenescribe]

true love feeds on absences (like pleasure feeds on pain) Twisted Wonderland | 3.6k Summary: A departure, a reunion, and everything in-between. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48061801 (Spoilers for Chapter 7 of TWST!)

Was listening to “Set The Tigers Free” by Villagers yesterday. Felt the urge to write something to get out some pent-up emotions. Thought about Lilia leaving in the end, even after everything that has happened. Thought about Silver grappling with it. Spat this out before the newest update drops.

This one’s short enough to be directly cross-posted to Tumblr, so... enjoy!

In the end, Lilia still leaves.

After the overblot, the tears, the emotions—

The frantic reunions in everybody’s dreams, hands finding comfort intertwining in each other; the promises whispered to each other to break free, the defiant attempts to strike back at and stop Malleus—

Lilia still leaves.

“I shall keep in contact,” he promises with a smile, the corners of his weary eyes wrinkling. It’s more sad than anything else, a stark contrast to the lively send-off he’d wanted back before Malleus had ruined everything, cast all of Sage’s Island into an unyielding, neverending dream. At the very least, this time they have had some time to process everything, to recover and work through all their unspoken fears before the day of departure finally arrived. This time, it is not a sudden, abrupt exit with no closure. “But you all know I cannot remain here, not with my magic as weak as it is.”

Malleus’ expression is pained. It has been, ever since they’d all dragged him back from the throes of his overblot. There’s a seemingly permanent downturn to his lips, pressed thin, and his eyebrows always dip downwards, leaving creases in his forehead. “Lilia—”

“Shush, Malleus.” With a single flick of his wrist, Lilia effectively silences the prince. Perhaps before, Malleus would have pressed the matter, pushed harder — but now, humbled by the outcome of his selfish decision to throw everyone under his magic’s effect, he is quiet. “I know what you wish to offer,” Lilia says, with a dip of his head. “My answer, however, remains unchanged. I do not need, nor do I desire, any of your magic. Understood?”

The stormy silence that fills the air says it all. Distantly, there is a rumble of thunder somewhere outdoors, the sound peeking through the half-opened window of Lilia’s room.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Lilia sighs, shaking his head, hands on his hips. “Is that truly how you are going to send me off? And I’m not just talking about Malleus for once,” he adds, eyes turning to the two other figures in the room. “All those sour looks on your face… I ought to have thrown another farewell party if I knew the mood would be as sullen as it is.”

Silence fills the air again, a palpable fog of far too many emotions, tangled together until it’s thick, sticky, and oppressive.

Sebek recovers first. He shouts something about how grateful he is — and shall always be! — to Lilia for teaching him everything he knows, for training him to be the guard that he is today. Malleus is second, his dissatisfied expression softening into one of a reluctant acceptance. Despite the sadness that seems to permeate his eyes permanently now, he still embraces Lilia, leaning down to wrap his arms around the smaller fae.

And Silver—

When strong arms curl around him, he clings to them, leaning into the hold. His chest aches, a visceral, tangible pain that has been with him for such a long time. Silver has felt it for weeks, ever since his father had first dropped the bombshell that he would be leaving in a matter of mere days, completely throwing Silver’s world upside down in that one, small instance. He leans down, rests his head against Lilia’s shoulder, and as he feels his father’s arms squeeze him tightly, he cannot help it — tears prickle in his eyes, a sob escaping his lips.

“Shh, shh.” His father tries to calm him, rubbing his back, soothing him, but— Damn it. It still hurts so badly, a gaping wound cleaved right through his core, one that Silver thinks will never heal, will never scab over or scar. It will remain with him for as long as he lives, leaking rivulets of blood that no one can see, a broken heart caged between his aching ribs. 

He almost whines as Lilia pulls away, the sound only cut off when two cool hands come up to cup his cheeks. “Do not cry, dear,” Lilia murmurs. “Otherwise you’re going to make your old man cry too. And then where will we be, hm?”

Silver tries to choke out a laugh, but it only emerges as another sob.

It hurts.

The cabin is yours now, Lilia had told him, pressing the keys into Silver’s hands in the lead-up to his initial departure, days before Malleus’ overblot.

At first, when he was still at Night Raven College, going through the remaining years of his education, Silver held a particular plan in mind. He would move back into the little cottage, help to maintain it — for it was where he had grown up, so many lovely childhood memories nestled within those wooden walls.

But upon his graduation, upon returning home and spending more than a few weeks living there—

There are ghosts haunting every nook and cranny, hiding in the corners and shielding themselves away until Silver stumbles upon them. He finds letters and drawings in a chest of drawers in his father’s room, and spends hours sitting there on the floor, looking through every scribbly artwork and wonky letter he’d ever given his father as a child, silent tears dripping down his face until it grows too dark to read. He discovers old gifts Lilia had given him after returning from his travels — trinkets nestled in the back of his wardrobe or under his bed, covered with thick layers of dust that makes him sneeze. He finds his father tucked away in everything he left behind — the ruined kitchen utensils, the dusty clothes hanging in his wardrobe, the weathered books on the shelves, all of it.

It grows too much for him to bear, every moment spent inside his house causing the wound in his heart to tear open a bit more. Blood gushes out as tears involuntarily gather at the corners of his eyes, time and time again.

Before long, he begins to spend more time at the castle, or at the Zigvolts’ place, staying away from his childhood home.

(A home that is little more than a house now, for Silver knows—

His true home is somewhere far away, in the Land of Red Dragons, all by himself.)

Even with the letters they receive — individualised ones, delivered every once in a blue moon, that familiar, messy scrawl indicating whose is whose — the pain still does not get any better. If anything, it feels worse.

Lilia writes with such informality, in a way that makes Silver able to imagine him speaking the exact words scrawled on the paper. Every time he cuts open the envelope, unfurling the paper to read ‘My dear boy!’ or even just ‘Silver!’ written with such an enthusiasm that he can practically hear him, Silver has to stop himself, put the letter down in favour of sucking in a deep breath. To quell the permanent pain in his heart before his emotions overtake him, drag him down until tears stain the ink and paper.

Lilia is fine. He’s content, even, spending his days travelling around the region he’s moved to, befriending the locals, assisting them where necessary. Even without his magic, his father is still capable of a great many things. His body has not begun to fail him yet — but it is the yet that Silver lingers on, every new letter reminding him of just how much time they are spending apart.

Him, growing older, attaining the knighthood status he’d been training all his life for.

(His father, growing older, tucked away somewhere far and foreign, his body slowly, steadily, beginning to give out on him.)

‘I hope you are doing well,’ Lilia writes, as he always does in some variation or another. ‘Malleus has told me of yours and Sebek’s knighting ceremony; I only wish I could have been there to witness it.’

Lilia learns of these things through Malleus, through Sebek, because they write back to him. Because they send off letters to take the long voyage to where Lilia stays, keen to keep in touch, sharing their lives with smiles on their faces. 

Silver has never written back to his father. It has never been for a lack of trying; he has wanted to pen a response so many times, aching to spill his life, everything he has done, to his father. To speak to him, to get a response back telling him how proud Lilia is of him, how much he loves him, to ask questions about every little detail of what Silver tells him about.

But every single time he sits down with a pen and paper, every time he tries to write—

He can’t. He can’t.

(‘I’m proud of you,’ Lilia always writes at the end of his letters. ‘I love you, Silver. I always will.’

It is those words that break him over and over again, tears splashing into the empty parchment in front of him until he inevitably crumples it up, throwing it to the ground in a fit of childish rage.

Of a desire, so deep and innate, to see his father again.)

The years pass. Silver gets older.

He stumbles through life, clings to his routines like a lifeline. Time only makes the wound ache worse; he has never managed to finish a single letter to send back to his father.

(He keeps all the ones he receives tucked away in a locked chest in his room at the castle. He has long since moved out of the cabin, only returning every so often to upkeep it, to keep it clean and pristine.

He strings the key to the chest around a chain, tucked away under the cloth of his clothes. It lies there, close to his broken heart at all times.)

New faces come and go. He and Sebek get the honour of training future soldiers and guards, settling into a routine with a refined ease.

Sebek matures, though slower than Silver does. He is less scathing with his words, less derogatory with the way he treats humans. He smiles more now. It looks nice on him, Silver thinks.

Malleus looks the same as always, save for a mature air of composure that surrounds him, a certainty he carries himself with. He opens up more now; the servants have gossiped about getting swept up in conversations with their prince, tittering to each other as Silver passes them in the hallways.

Silver changes faster than them. His physique shifts, appearance maturing into something he knows people whisper about. He has been subjected to his fair share of suitors clamouring for his hand, the fact that he is human irrelevant to them in favour of his beauty. He accepts the compliments with a small smile, having learnt how to express himself better over time, but always turns down anyone who requests to court him.

Whenever he looks into the mirror, an unexplainable feeling always overwhelms him. A hollow ache in the middle of his chest. A vortex that always churns and eats at him. 

(The wound over his heart still leaks blood. Over a decade has passed, but it has never healed.

Silver knows what he feels whenever he looks into the mirror. He feels vulnerable, young, a fervent desire within him to run back into the arms of his father and never let go.)

Lilia still writes to them all. His letters always arrive consistently at the same times.

Silver has still yet to ever reply.

“I am dismissing you from your duties as a knight.”

Silver blinks. He stares, not quite wrapping his head around the words.

Malleus stares back at him, narrowed eyes piercing from where he sits, one leg crossed, on the elegantly curved chair used at the table in his study. There is no room for argument in his expression, only a resolute firmness, the made-up mind of a soon-to-be king.

And then he processes the words. “What?” Silver blurts out, undignified and startled, his usual decorum with his prince lost upon him. His heart hammers against his chest, the sound pounding in his ears. Fear seizes him. “I— My lord—”

“Malleus,” the fae corrects, with a swift interruption and a dip of his head. “There is no longer any need for such formalities between us, especially not in the privacy of this room.”

“Malleus,” Silver corrects, still trembling, feeling weak all over. Like he is a teenager again, his emotions a struggle for him to comprehend, his heart too big for him to express. “I strongly urge you to reconsider your decision—”

“I have already made up my mind.”

Silver sucks in a breath. “Why?” he asks, the question coming out as a soft pathetic whine. Has he failed somewhere? Shirked his duties as a knight? But Malleus had expressed no discontent prior to this — and even now, as Silver calms from the surge of irrational emotions that swung him by surprise, he can sense no dissatisfaction from his prince, only a calm certainty. It only serves to puzzle him even more.

Those sharp, yellow-green eyes almost seem to soften as they land upon him.

“Is it not obvious, Silver?” Malleus says, not unkindly. “Your heart is not in it — in any of it. It has not been for years. My only mistake was not realising sooner, how unhappy it made you to remain here.”

Silver stares, shell-shocked, mouth parted in his confusion.

“I—” A lump chokes his throat, and he swallows it down. “What gave you the impression that I am unhappy?” he asks, a little carefully; his hands ball into fists, shaking by his side. “I have always wanted to serve you, my lord—”

“Malleus.”

“—Malleus,” he corrects, wincing at the pointed look shot his way. “It is what I was raised for, is it not? Everything I have gone through, it has all been for your sake.”

Malleus hums, pressing a hand against his chin. He looks contemplative. “Perhaps,” he says, after what feels like a tense eternity to Silver. “But is that what you desire? Or is that merely what has been instilled in you since young?”

Silver freezes.

(A realisation looms over him, one he has always pushed out of his mind from how deeply it hurts him, burying it after it had gotten too much for him to bear.

A fervent desire shared with Malleus long ago, on an abnormally snowy night at Night Raven College, during the eve of his father’s departure.)

“I have always wondered,” Malleus says, “why you have never written back to him.” He does not need to specify who he is talking about; Silver already knows. “At first, I had presumed it to be out of anger. A betrayal, perhaps, similar to what I had felt when I overblotted. And yet, such an assumption directly contradicts how you act whenever his letters arrive. You are always first to retrieve yours, retreating to your room to look through its contents.”

Malleus exhales, closing his eyes.

And then he opens them, and smiles.

“I give you my permission to depart,” he says, in a firm voice that leaves no space for any protest. “And with that, my blessings alongside it.”

In the softest, kindest voice Silver has ever heard from him, Malleus says:

“Go home to him, Silver. You have waited long enough.”

The wound in his heart has stopped bleeding.

It is still not healed, still open and raw. But there is nothing dripping from it, a strange, suspended feeling that Silver experiences as he packs what meagre belongings he has into a single bag, and prepares to depart.

(He brings all the letters. He has to, after all.

He needs to answer every question written in them when they meet again.)

Malleus sees to his departure, ensures that Silver has enough funds to get there, readies the magic mirror within Briar Valley to take him somewhere with an airport. He sees Silver off personally, smiles at him with such a knowing look in his eyes — “Give him my best regards, would you?”

Sebek shows no surprise when Silver springs the news upon him. All he says is, “IT’S ABOUT TIME!” in that booming voice of his, slaps Silver on the back and laughs heartily. He is there when Malleus sees him off, a private affair shared between the three of them. Silver is surprised at how teary-eyed his friend is when they embrace — though when he brings it up, teases Sebek with a light smile, Sebek merely says, “I am only crying because I am thinking of all those suitors of yours I must handle!”

When he steps through the portal, he blinks in jarring disconcertion at the modern world, so unused to it after so much time tucked away in Briar Valley. The valley is still far behind the times, modern inventions only slowly beginning to snake their way into its populace’s daily life, and to face the sleek shininess of an airport is a little much for his mind to handle.

Still, he somehow finds his way through everything, asks for assistance wherever necessary — he is taking a flight to the Land of Red Dragons, would someone happen to know where he must go? And before long, he has boarded the plane, settled in for the long ride, leaning back in his seat as the vehicle takes off.

A ball of anxiety unfurls in his chest, threads of nervousness creeping their way through all the corners of his body. Though he tries to sleep it off, sinking back into his habits as easily as ever, he wakes with consternation still festering in his veins, claws still gripping his chest.

The Land of Red Dragons is as he expects when he steps outside the airport, mind dredging up every little detail described in his father’s letters over the years. Slowly, with his nerves only mounting as he goes through each necessary step, Silver finds someone willing to drive him as close to wherever his father is staying as they can.

He dozes off during the drive.

(In his dreams, he stumbles into his father’s own, watches at a distance as he has done countless times over the years.

How long has he longed for this? To reunite, to embrace, to hold him again in his arms, allowing his tears to spill easily, some inner child within him finally soothed?

He does not remember anything when he wakes, as he always does.)

Before he knows it, Silver is here.

He is dropped off at the edge of a wide and open plain. The wind whips at the tall strands of grass, blows at his hair and clothes as he stares down at a little house nestled between bumpy hills. There is smoke emerging from the chimney, the walls made of burgundy bricks, and there is a little wooden porch out in front, a swing chair resting there. The lawn is unkempt — and Silver stifles a smile at that, a warmth swelling within him at the sight of thick throngs of weeds and wildflowers — and there is a little mailbox with the red flag turned up. Peeking over the fence around the backyard is what looks like a large, wooden coop.

He makes his way down slowly at first.

And then he speeds up. A leisurely walk turning into a run, until he’s sprinting and panting, heart swelling so full with a longing desire that he has stifled for over a decade, unwilling to wait any longer—

(The cut through his heart is beginning to stitch itself back together, mending itself in a way that it has not for such a long time.)

And when he stumbles up the porch, rings the doorbell, rocking nervously backwards on his heels—

The door swings open, a familiar face peering through the crack, crimson eyes widening with a thousand emotions upon landing on him, before the door is flung wide open—

Silver surges forward, sweeping Lilia up into an embrace long overdue, arms curling tightly around his father as he buries his head in his hair — longer now, reaching just past his shoulders, streaks dyed a pale, delicate pink. He just about sobs at the scent of that familiar shampoo, tears beading up at the corners of his eyes. 

And when he feels arms curl around him, returning the embrace?

He finally breaks.

“Father,” he gasps between choked sobs, fingers curling into the soft knit of Lilia’s sweater, tears dampening his cheeks as he cries unabashedly — an adult now, a grown man, rendered but a child after so long spent missing his papa. “I missed you so much, I—”

The words escape him. 

Silver only sobs, trembling and shaking in Lilia’s hold, soothed by the circles being rubbed into his back, the gentle murmurs of his father’s voice as he whispers, “There, there, dry your tears, dear.”

And when they finally pull away from each other, after what feels like an eternity of letting loose every emotion he has buried, Lilia raises his hands to cup his cheeks, and Silver feels like bursting into a fresh flood of tears all over again.

His father smiles at him, face more wrinkled than it was before, his age finally catching up with him. And yet, he still looks young, young enough — It is only how the fae age, Silver thinks with a small, shy smile, graceful and glorious until the very end.

Soon, Lilia will usher him in, will demand to know why and how he has come here. Silver will tell him of how Malleus relieved him of his duties, knowing before Silver did what he needed, and granting him the opportunity to take it for himself. Lilia will show him his house, the guest room filled with all his various trinkets and junk, and the spare bed that Silver will take as his own. They will talk and laugh over a meal, before clinging to each other on the sofa, catching up after over a decade apart.

But for now, Silver allows himself to relish in his father’s tender embrace, feeling thumbs brush over his tear-stained cheeks so delicately.

(The wound in his heart has finally healed, after everything.)

He is home.

“True love feeds on absences like pleasure feeds on pain So no matter where I’m standing, I still love you all the same And I hope you feel the same way when it’s your turn to disappear I’ll be cheering from the sidelines with a sandwich and a beer” — Set The Tigers Free (Villagers)

#twst #twisted wonderland #not as rampant spoiler-wise but still. whole premise is a spoiler #twst spoilers #twisted wonderland spoilers #twst ch7 #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #my writing tag #is it a drabble if it's 3k? well. considering i usually wrote >10k... #idk. go stream set the tigers free by villagers #thank you for reading if you do <3 #personal writing

[osaemu]

day after tmrw is my six month anniversary on tumblr dot com !!

#sabs posts! #well #anniversary of my first drabble #thank you for almost 10K since then <3 <3 #eating u all up like ice cream mochis #after my tests and presentation i'll get back into writing more #i'm just stressed out rn bc i literally don't know anything about chem

[seiya-starsniper]

I'm so close to 200k published words on AO3 for 2023 and I'm chomping at the bit trying to figure out if I can get it over the line before the end of December lmao. I might, depending on how long the prompts in my inbox end up being but if anyone wants to send me more...👀

#seiya talks #am I a masochist? #perhaps #but I did get 10k words written on my big bang within the last week so I'm feeling pretty good #the tag on my blog for the writing prompts btw is #writing prompt games #I also know there's some tumblr drabbles I haven't put up on ao3 but I've been flip-flopping on which ones I really want on my ao3 account #the simon snow crossover one has a part 2 incoming so once I'm done with it they're both going on ao3 in one work #but the rest are a big hmmmmmm

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

The abandoned house by camp wasn’t what most would call romantic, but compared to the hells or a bedroll in the wilderness, it felt like a mansion. A month ago, Karlach could never have pictured herself like this, curled up on warm furs before a fireplace, head pillowed on someone’s shoulder, legs tangled together.

Since entering these Shadow Cursed lands, Majexatli had been… different. Not all bad, hells, Karlach could finally touch them, feel their body. She even got them to laugh, giggle, even, picking them up and spinning them around with utter joy. But they were quieter here, in the hazy darkness of the shadowed lands they looked older. 

Karlach hadn’t quite noticed their grey hairs before, or maybe she only noticed now that she could run her fingers through their hair, trace the lines of their face. There were newer lines too, fresher scars, streaks of blood that never seemed to fully wash away. It made sense, since entering these lands, Majexatli had thrown themselves into battle more—they had avoided it whenever possible before, and they still did avoid it, but when it happened now they didn’t hesitate before letting wildshape overtake them and jumping into the largest hoard of enemies they could. 

A few days into traveling here they returned to camp and went straight to Volo, let him drive a bloody ice pick into their skull, through their eye. Majexatli was a healer, a medicine person, they knew better than anyone at camp that Volo’s idea wouldn’t work, they knew the tadpoles were protected from removal, they had spoken at lengths with Omeluum in the Underdark about it. 

It made Karlach wonder what they had wanted to happen.

Even a blessing from Selûne or that pixie seemed like it couldn’t reach far enough to banish whatever had settled deep inside Majexatli, something bone-deep and older than the whole tadpole thing or Karlach’s infernal engine.

Karlach saw Majexatli continuing to collect infernal metal, adding books on smithing and the hells to their collection of medical and magical texts. She knew it would happen, ever since she met them she had seen them time and time again cling to hope in situations where they were none, refuse to give up even on lost causes. Not from bright optimism, no, the promise of a better tomorrow was something they held to with bloodied claws. If the sun disappeared, Majexatli would spend the rest of their days forcing themselves to wake early, dragging themselves through mud and shadow to the top of a hill, fighting tooth and nail, just so they could watch the horizon and wait for a dawn that would never come. 

Gently running her fingers over their chest, she watched the steady rise and fall of their chest, tried to memorize the feeling of their skin, all the freckles and scars. Majexatli had done the same earlier, lips tracing over the whorls of her burns and harsh lines from swords. As Karlach’s mind and fingers wandered, hand came to rest over Majexatli’s heart and the scars over it. The scars there felt so deep, healing magic seemed to do that sometimes, as though new skin was simply placed over a wound rather than filled and knit together by the body. She idly dragged her fingers along the edges of the scar, sleep slowly creeping up on her when she felt them stir suddenly, a tensing of their muscles.

“Shit, sorry, did I hurt you—“

It took them a second, remaining tense as they fought off the sleep before she felt them relax again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that their other arm had shot out, grasping at the empty space there. For a weapon, Karlach realized, usually they slept next to their quarterstaff and a dagger.

“No, it’s alright. I don’t have much feeling in any of them,” They moved their head just enough to press a kiss to Karlach’s forehead, “Sorry if I startled you, I was probably just dreaming,”

She felt a smile against her forehead. Looking into their eyes, though, they seemed dulled by more than just sleep, they were unfocused, creeping on distant.

“What’s on your mind?”

They were quiet, avoiding her eyes.

“This… this is— good, please don’t ever worry otherwise, you mean the world to me, I’d kill Zariel herself if you asked. It’s just—“ They exhaled, “This is… new. Intimacy.”

Karlach stilled for a moment, “But—Lae’zel? Astarion? Wyll?”

“Lae’zel wasn’t exactly there to cuddle and there weren’t any emotions, which was fine, I didn't expect anything more. I’ve never actually been with Astarion, he offered but it didn't feel like the best time. And you know I haven’t gotten that far with Wyll yet,”

She did know about Wyll, he had even asked her for advice on planning something romantic with Majexatli. And Lae’zel, well… it was hard not to notice the times with Lae’zel dragging them away in the night, and the state of Majexatli the next morning—though things seemed to have cooled between them now. Astarion… she wasn’t quite sure what was going on there, but the bite marks on their neck were made fresh every few days.

“Is this too fast?”

“No! No— it’s just… new,” They lapsed into silence for a few moments, looking up at the ceiling, “I’ve been sleeping alone for… probably… a decade and a half…”

It caught Karlach’s attention, that. Rarely had they heard Majexatli speak much of anything before the Nautiloid. Wracking her brain, she could only think of a few times, briefly alluding to druidic training, to traveling, moments outside of cities. Never any mention of people.

“You’re in good company, you’re the first person I’ve touched in a decade,” Karlach hoped they could pick up on her sincerity, the underlying sentiment.

I know what it’s like being alone, we don’t have to be alone anymore.

“You were in the hells and had your engine. I was just… alone. My scars didn’t actually prevent me from getting close to others,”

Karlach paused, furrowing her brow.

“Are they related?”

“Hm?”

“Being alone and your scars?”

Majexatli seemed lost in thought for a moment, already starting to drift back asleep.

“No… not—Not in the way you might think, no,” they managed, eyes drifting closed, “He didn’t give me these scars, not really,”

“He?”

Karlach looked up at Majexatli, but they had already fallen asleep.

#eldritch it speaks #OC: Majexatli #salam plays bg3 #i have probably uhhh 7 docs with random half finished drabbles with majexatli #all in all over 10k words i checked #this is the only coherent thing so far though so enjoy! #ik the game puts wyll at lik 24 and karlach probably in her mid/late 20s but personally i hc everyones age a lil older #and Majexatli's ~38/39

[icezansky]

update on hallmark movie mechanic!mav: 19k in 🫠

#WE’RE IN THE HOME STRETCH #I know that’s not like. a LOT a lot. but this was supposed to be a silly lil drabble and we’ve still got another 10k to go #so the fact I’ve written this much since…. Friday? impressive #katie text

[good-beanswrites]

Summary: A little peek behind the scenes at the music videos and aftermath of the Milgram project (Aka my emotional support actors au: the canon events still occur, the character's personalities are all the same, but all the pain/death is part of a carefully staged experiment)

WOO!! I was gripped by this indulgent au and had a total blast writing it, I hope you enjoy :D

#milgram #es #haruka sakurai #yuno kashiki #fuuta kajiyama #muu kusunoki #shidou kirisaki #mahiru shiina #kazui mukuhara #amane momose #mikoto kayano #kotoko yuzuhira #it was supposed to be a super quick drabble and almost 10k words later i realize its.... not that..... #i have a bunch of serious/angsty canon things planned #and so i didnt realize how much i needed lighthearted milgram until i started writing :') #fanfic #lights camera sing your sins

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

croissant - send me a sfw request! 

grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader first kiss

a/n: you know, you know, us two we've been back in it with this dude recently 🫠

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist |  join my 10k celebration!

“So,” uncontrollable giggles bubbled out of you as you beamed over at Bucky beside you on the bench, “I was just wondering if maybe–…”

Not peeling his steely glance away from the ducks swimming through the park’s lake, “what?” he absentmindedly grumbled, “just spit it out, please.” 

“Can I, uhm…” your body practically wiggled as you finally asked, “can I kiss you?”

You could have counted on only one hand how many times you’d seen Bucky crack a smile in the time you’d known him. But as your fluttery words found his wind-chilled ears like an ethereal butterfly, you could now officially start using both of your hands. 

Twisting his gaze away from the patch of flora and fauna in the middle of the bustling city, Bucky smiled softly back at you for a flash before his fingers, which had been curled behind you and rested on the bench, then curved over the nape of your neck as he brought you close to meet him halfway.

His kiss was slow and soft, like sipping on a steaming mug of hot chocolate on a freezing day, his radiating lips seemed to warm you from within and conjure a soft sigh to seep from your lungs. 

“Yes, Y/n,” he gently pulled back, his grasp now cupped against your hot cheek, “of course you can kiss me. You can kiss me all you’d like.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#10k celebration #lea’s writing #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes hc #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes blurb #bucky x reader

[compacflt]

wip wednesday: the going is slow but the going is going

#i want to apologize that these are taking so long #i have an order i want to post them in which is this: 1. slider 2. 1812 au 3. a third secret more boring thing #4. drabbles pre-TGM mission (1989-2016) 5. drabbles post TGM mission (2016-2022) #which is a problem when im most motivated to work on everything that isn’t no. 1&2 #1. stuuuuuupid shit. in case you were wondering what the ‘sprained wrist’ i alluded to in debriefing was #2. excerpt from the third secret more boring thing #3. your friends are by definition not your enemies so stop treating us as adversaries #pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #icemav #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fanfiction #also a problem is that the slider one shot could either be 10k mediocre words or 40k excellent words #i am aiming for 15k but i am truly sorry that i am incapable of writing concisely #and truly sorry these are taking so long

[ddejavvu]

Hi, I hope you’re doing good!

I would love to order some banana slices à la Aaron Hotchner with the Team teasing him for being a big softie.

Merci Beaucoup!

you are formally invited to ddejavvu's 10K dinner party, now serving second entrées

--

"Ice pack," Aaron plops the frozen mass onto the table in front of you, as if the word 'freezypak' didn't clue you in. You don't torment him, though, nodding thankfully and pressing it to the bruise on your head.

Getting whacked over the head with a shovel wasn't how you wanted to spend your day, but you suppose it was worth it in the grand scheme of things, because it led to the capture of your unsub.

"Does it hurt?" He peers concernedly at you, settling on the bench across from you. Derek, who he's sat next to, lifts one side of his headphones off of his ear, slyly listening in on your conversation.

"A bit, yeah." You wince as the ice pack burns against your skin, but keep it pressed to your injury, "I- I'm a little dizzy."

Perhaps saying the words queued your condition, but your head is spinning before you finish your last word. Your vision blurs, and your neck no longer supports your head, lolling forwards to send your head speeding towards the tabletop.

Aaron reaches a hand out in a second flat, cushioning your forehead as it drops against the table. You don't register his concerned repetition of your name, nor do you feel JJ patting your back beside you, but when you blearily open your eyes, Aaron's hands are cupping your cheeks, keeping you upright.

"Can you see me?" HIs face focuses in your blurry eyes, a worried frown.

You nod, his fingers sliding softly against your cheeks, "Yeah. I'm- I'm tired."

"Do not fall asleep." He squeezes your cheeks, though he doesn't seem to have meant to by the way he lets his grip go lax again, "We need to get you medical care immediately. Stay awake, Y/N."

"I can't," You shake your head, eyes slipping shut, "I- 'need sleep."

"No- stop!" Aaron's thumbs prod at the skin beneath your eyes, prompting them open, "Open your eyes. Look at me, please."

You use the dwindling bit of your energy to stare at him, your eyes sliding in and out of focus as you try locking onto his features. There's his stern frown, the worry welling in his eyes, and his narrow, thin nose.

"I'm tired." You whine, head heavy and brain fuzzy, "Please, I won't- I won't die, I just want to sleep."

Emily snorts at your reassurances, passing you a cold water bottle from the fridge, "Drink this, it'll wake you up."

Aaron gently lets go of your cheeks, and without his support you nearly fall. But you manage to rest your head against the back of your seat, eyes blinking blearily. He takes the water for you, uncapping it and holding it up to your lips.

"Jesus, Aaron," Rossi pipes up from the seat across the aisle from you, "Don't you think maybe she can drink her water all by herself?"

"She can't even hold her head up," Aaron snaps, glaring daggers at Rossi who shares a wide-eyed glance with Reid. Aaron's gaze tracks the expression, but Reid doesn't relent at his boss's intense staredown, his smirk only grows wider.

Your lips wrap weakly around the spout of the water bottle, and you let Aaron tip it so that water pours down your throat. It opens your eyes a little wider, gets your heart pumping a bit faster, and you smile lazily at Hotch when he caps the bottle again.

"Thanks," Your voice is breathless and barely-there, but from where your knee is touching his beneath the table, you feel him tense.

"Of course," He nods, reaching for your hand and squeezing it briefly. You want to squeeze back, but you can't manage to work up the strength, knocking your knee with his under the table instead. He smiles, the corner of his lips pulling up ever-so-slightly, "Just tell me if you need anything, okay?"

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #ddejavvu's 10k dinner party !!

[nostalgia-tblr]

i'm not one of those "i have an idea for a FANTASTIC scene but i'll need to write 250,000 words of context for it" writers I'm more like "oof, the AU scenario this scene takes place in is COMPLEX, it may take three or even four lines of dialogue to fully explain the concept to the reader D:"

#and then i'll go “oh it's fine i can probably get the gist across in two” #this is likely why i have only about half a dozen fics over 10k words despite having 400+ fics on AO3 :( #me writing lord of the rings: “this could be a drabble. maybe a double drabble if i really want to indulge in the setting.” #fic related

[blushinggray]

change of plans: part 8

sero hanta x fem!reader

part 8/? (part 7 | part 1)

The holiday party

cw // fluff, partying, slight shenanigans, exes popping up, a lil drama, lots of mistletoe

—

Yaoyorozu's house is massive.

Like, not just a big three story with four full size bathrooms and twice as many bedrooms. Her family's estate takes up the entire block and then some because of that long ass driveway to the actual mansion from the front gate. Anyone who didn't have a car to drive her probably had to take a taxi from the nearest station.

And while only the ground floor is being used for the party, it's still big enough to host a ton of festivities. You had assumed there'd be a bunch of people, but not a third of the student population...

Most of the partygoers are scattered about the huge dining hall, where the long dining table has a ton of food and desserts laid out on one side of the room to make room for people to dance. Jirou is atop an elevated platform with her turntable on one end of the hall, DJing for the night. And there's a bar for drinks set up on the other end.

But just outside of the dining hall, the main foyer is just as bustling, decked out with a huge Christmas tree for newcomers to gawk at when they enter the building. And for loiterers to just hang about before they switch around to the other rooms. Yaoyorozu has taken it upon herself to set up a ton of different recreation centers within the different available rooms.

So far, you've seen typical bar and party games like pool tables, dart boards, beer pong, and board games. You've also seen rooms with DDR mats, video game consoles, and VR headsets set up for use. You could also hear people belting out to karaoke from a couple different rooms. One room had a photo area setup with a bunch of holiday accessories and props for friends to take pictures together. There was even a room just covered up in chalkboard walls for people to play picture/word games or let out their inner artist.

The whole house is decked out in winter holiday decor, and at least half of the attendees are dressed for the occasion as well. Jirou is spinning a few Christmas remixes into her set, some of the drinks are decorated with mini candy canes, and there's mistletoe hung in so many strategic places. You've already seen a dozen mistletoe kisses exchanged in good spirits.

Someone has actually taken it upon themselves to walk around with a mistletoe dangling from a stick and string, feeding people shots and playing Christmas cupid. Apparently his name is Tetsutetsu, from the engineering department or something. And he shows up out of nowhere with his mistletoe fishing rod, cheering to announce his presence around the chosen couple before he pours shots straight from a liquor bottle (with a pour spout, at least) into their mouths and waits for them to exchange a kiss.

It's all in good fun though, and he certainly livens up the room whenever he shows up. A few of your friends have already gotten caught by the Tetsutetsu mistletoe and ended up kissing friends and strangers alike.

Everything is beyond your imagination and fathomability for a college party. You suppose you should consider yourself lucky to be some part of one of Yaoyorozu's extended friend groups. The girl herself has been busy hosting, talking to newcomers and acquaintances, letting everyone know what they're free to enjoy, and managing the manor staff to keep everything running smoothly.

You've been enjoying yourself, talking to close friends and running into old ones, as well as acquaintances and meeting new ones, dancing for a few songs, drinking a few cocktails, participating in a game or activity every so often, and getting caught for a mistletoe kiss yourself once or twice (which you usually oblige with a kiss on the cheek). But you've been keeping an eye out for someone most of the evening so far. Someone that you've been waiting to talk to almost two weeks now.

While you haven't run into Sero in person since that surprise call where he confessed that he liked you ("like, a lot"), you've kept up some contact through texting and the occasional call at night. Both of you had been rather busy with your finals, much like everyone else, so maybe it was only a couple times a day, but you both agreed you'd talk more in person. Which, on top of finishing finals, has made this party that much more worth waiting for.

Every time he'd be on the phone with you or you sent him a cute photo to help "motivate" him (per his request), he'd groan about how he couldn't wait to see you at this party. So you're kind of wondering what's keeping him. You haven't seen him around yet, though you've run into one or two of his main buddies.

But you figure the night is still young. The two of you are sure to run into one another at some point tonight, right? You're still free to enjoy yourself without him for now. You've got plenty of things to celebrate, after all.

You and your friends are all free from the torture of the semester and you all look cute as heck tonight, so you bring them over to get some photos taken. Then you spend some time playing pictionary in the chalkboard room. People shuffle around groups as you get drinks, migrate through rooms, get new drinks, revisit the dance floor, refill your drinks, take bathroom breaks, and cheer whenever Tetsutetsu and his mistletoe show up into the room.

By the time you stumble into one of the karaoke rooms to find Ashido and a few other familiar faces, you are pretty sloshed. You squeal when you see her and open your arms out for a hug, which she squeals and returns in equal excitement.

"Girl! Oh my god, you look so cute!" she gushes, "I love the beret!!"

"Thank you!" You chuckle, offering a pose.

Your outfit is pretty simple, but perfectly festive for the holiday theme, you'd say. You tucked a loose, slightly fuzzy, white sweater into a red pleated skirt, with some black tights and lace up boots to protect yourself from the cold outside. And you added a long necklace and a white beret just to do it up a bit, tying it all together with a small red bag that you've been carrying on one shoulder.

You compliment Ashido's and the other girls' outfits too, everyone exchanging store names and tips as someone belts out to Mariah Carey in the background. All of you chat for a few minutes before the song some of the girls had queued up starts playing on the machine, so you all run up to crowd the TV and starting singing and dancing along, whether you grabbed a mic or not.

Soon after, you're going up with your friends to choose another song from the menu tablet when you feel a tap on your shoulder, "[Name]?"

Your heart immediately spikes in your chest in excitement, hope, and nervousness at the sound of the male voice. But it's only when you turn around that you realize that it wasn't the voice of the person you were expecting (waiting for all night).

It is, however, a familiar and friendly face. One that you recognize from high school, actually.

"Kosei!" you shriek, immediately coming forward to give him a hug, "Hey! How's it going?"

"Good, good. Really good now that finals are over." Tsuburaba chuckles as he gives you a few friendly pats before letting you go, "How about you?"

The two of you go back and forth for a bit, but there's a small ball of nerves starting to form in your stomach. Tsuburaba is a friend; not a particularly close one, but a friend nonetheless. But... if he's here, then there's a pretty high chance that someone else is nearby...

"Oh yeah, and uh..." he transitions sheepishly, pointing to his friends behind him who are chatting with your crowd of friends, "Actually, Sen's here tonight, too. I hope that's not... too weird, or whatever."

Dammit. Just as you thought.

Among the other engineering guys who've appeared in the room, you recognize Awase, Shoda, Bondo, and... of course, Tsuburaba's best friend and the source of all your trust issues, Kaibara.

The start of your fuckboy allergy and the very guy you were so hung up on freshman year. A guy whom you haven't heard from since, actually. But you've since gotten over the whole thing. So the time away should have left no residual feelings to stir up.

None.

"No, it shouldn't be too weird." You say to reassure your friend, as well as yourself, "It's a party. Everyone should be celebrating."

"Okay." Tsuburaba gives you a thoughtful look, but nods anyway. Then he turns over to look at his friend, as if giving him some sort of signal, because Kaibara excuses himself from the group and starts walking up to you two.

Which is fine. Because there are no residual feelings.

"Hey, [Name]." He smiles.

But fuck, does he look good tonight.

You want to hit yourself across the face for letting your eyes linger on how tightly his shirt clings to his waist beneath his open jacket. And his face... fuck, you hate how he has a face that's so hard to turn away from or say no to.

"Hey." You try to politely smile back, pointedly ignoring how fucking awkward this is.

"You look great, by the way." He compliments, giving you a quick once over, "Really like the beret."

"Thanks..." You try not to look too into anything he says, "How's uh... How's everything going? How's Spiral?"

God, why. Why are you bringing up his fucking cat like it's any of your business?? Or exposing the fact that you remember his cat at all??

"He's good. As demanding as ever. He misses you though." He chuckles.

"Yeah, I bet. Since I would actually bother to pet him." You find yourself joking.

"Hey, I pet him!" Kaibara defends, "Everyone pets him. Even Tsubu here. He just doesn't like us as much."

"I wonder why." You tease.

You banter back and forth like this for a bit more, until Ashido appears at your side, wrapping and arm around your waist and speaking rather loudly, "Heyyyy, guys. [Name], what're ya doing? Weren't cha gonna pick a song with us?"

"Oh, right." You recall, following her as she excuses the two of you from the guys on your behalf.

"What the heck are doing, talking to your ex like that??" She whispers aggressively as she leads you both towards the touch pad attached to a holder on the wall.

"He's not technically my ex." You whisper back huffily, rolling your eyes, "We were never 'officially' together."

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't be letting him sweet talk you with that pretty face of his!" She reminds you, "I don't wanna hear you singing 'Last Christmas' for three months after the holidays again!"

"I'm not!" You defend, scrolling through your options and trying to read them with your slightly blurred vision. You and Ashido go off tangent for a bit to actually pick a song and queue it up before you get back to the subject at hand, "And for the record, I was just trying to be civil. I’m still friends with Kosei."

"Fine. But I'm gonna keep my eye out for the two of you tonight." She declares, which you kind of appreciate. "Plus, don't you and Sero have something going on anyway?"

You let out of a deep sigh after you both step away from the tablet and refill your cups with some lemon water from the dispenser in the room, "Yeah... I uh... We were gonna have a talk about that tonight. But I still haven't seen him yet, and he hasn't texted me all night, so I don't know when it's actually happening."

"Are you serious?" Ashido's eyes widen, immediately pulling out her phone, "Where is that idiot?! I'm going to call his ass right the fuck now."

"No— Mina! Stop that." You push her phone and hands down to intercept her, "If he really wants to, then he'll find me himself. I need... I need to know if he really means it when he tells me something."

You must be thinking out loud now, because you hadn't actually processed that thought before it was already out of your mouth. Your filter isn't working so well at the moment. But you do need to know if he's really serious about all this.

You've been waiting all night to see him, and he still hasn't showed. You'd be disappointed if you found out he wasn't as excited to talk to you as he let on, but you would be devastated if you found out he spent the whole evening having fun with or flirting with someone else. Even if he was busy with friends, you had hoped that he would make some time for you this evening. But you haven't gotten so much as a 'where you at?' text. You don't really enjoy this feeling.

Luckily, Ashido relents with a sigh and leads you back to the TV to help distract you through a few rambunctious renditions of pop and Christmas songs with the others. And it works for the most part, even as you begin to sober up with all the singing and dancing.

However, you're suddenly face to face with a curveball when you see that Kaibara is still here and appears next to you when you're choosing another song.

"Can I sing one with you?" He asks, giving you that smile that you can't say no to.

"With me?" You chuckle, "I don't recall you being much of a singer."

"Ouch." He says jokingly.

"No— I meant, like, you're not usually one to pick up the mic at karaoke." You rephrase, though you don't know why you feel the need to spare his feelings.

"That's true, I'm usually not." he admits, "But you guys looked like you were having so much fun, so I figured I'd give it a go, too."

"Then why didn't you ask Kosei or one of the others? I'm sure their music taste is probably closer to yours than mine."

"I don't think our collective music taste really fits the vibe for a party like this," he chuckles as he steps a little closer to you, tapping through the tablet to browse through the music options. Suddenly, you're reminded of how tall he is, yet still the perfect height to leave a kiss on the forehe—

"You still like Hawks, don't you?" He asks, bringing you out of your intrusive thoughts and memories.

You immediately groan at the mention of one of your favorite producers/artists, looking up at Kaibara with a helpless expression, "You know I do..."

He chuckles with that pretty smile of his before looking up Hawks in the artists catalogue, "Let's sing one of his songs together then."

So that's how you find yourself standing beside Kaibara in front of the TV ten minutes later, singing a rather smooth duet and getting caught up in the fun of the song. While Kaibara doesn't go all out like you and your other drunk friends do, he easily takes your hand to spin you around and rock to your rhythm. Enough to get a little closer than necessary for two people with clear history between them.

And you're reluctant to admit it, but you're having a pretty good time.

While his trap is pretty clear to see — the flirty banter, choosing one of your favorite artists and songs, the smoky eyes he's been giving you as he sings with you — and you are still a bit tipsy to be in your right mind, you're enjoying yourself. It's easy to guess what he wants, but it's not so bad feeling wanted. Even if it's not seriously, or by the person you had been hoping for most of the evening.

It kind of reminds you of all the fun times you had with him before shit started to crumble. He's still the same hot, fun, charismatic guy he once was. He still even wants the exact same things — a good time without any pressures. But all that just goes to show how good of a time he's always given you.

All of the excitement and fun and drunkenness kind of build up like a snowball rolling down a mountain, and lead to a bit of a lapse in judgement when you see and hear Tetsutetsu — the Mistletoe Man — bounce into the room, cheering and stirring up a commotion until he hangs his mistletoe fishing line over you and Kaibara in the middle of your song.

"Oh my god." Your voice is drowned out as Tetsutetsu hypes everyone up in the room and holds his liquor bottle out to you both.

Kaibara happily leans down and opens his mouth for the shot, and Tetsutetsu pours in a generous amount, clapping his back heartily and shouting with a big smile, "Kaibara! My man!"

It only just occurs to you that they're both in the engineering department, which must be how they know each other. And possibly why you were targeted. But the loud newcomer is already turning to you so you don't have time to dwell on it, "How 'bout a shot for you, sweetie?" He holds up the bottle for you.

You shake your head with a roll of your eyes before graciously bending your knees and opening your mouth for the shot. There are cheers as you taste the harsh flavor of tequila and struggle to swallow it down without making a face.

And when you stand upright again, you're met with your next task/obstacle. Meeting Kaibara's eyes is like looking down an ocean cliff, filled with thrill and nerves and fear of consequences. But then he gives you that pretty smile and a cute shrug and you suddenly see a short window where the tide will help cushion your fall.

You kind of want to. You admit, you do kind of want to dive back in, just to see if you can still swim in those warm eyes and big hands. But at the same time, you know better than that. You know better than to dive into shallow waters. Even wading through a tipsy fog, you still know that.

But all the same, you can't escape the pressure of your peers and a good party. So with a deep breath and a shrug of acceptance, you tilt your head to the side to show your cheek to him.

Your heart is racing as you feel his hand beneath your chin to hold you in place as he obligingly kisses your cheek. You hear some cheers from the room, but when Kaibara turns your chin back to face him and goes in for a more full frontal kiss on the mouth, they get even louder.

You're wide-eyed, but your eyelids are fluttering in surprise. Surprise at the kiss itself, as well as how familiar and warm Kaibara's lips are. Yet somehow different. Maybe it's just been a while since you last kissed him, but there's something new that you can't quite pinpoint.

Different or not, though, you're not so down bad that you'd be willing to let things go his way. So after you pull away, you give him a punch in the arm. Playfully, but also half serious.

He laughs as he rubs at the new sore spot and Tetsutetsu gives his last hurrahs to the room before leaving to torture some other poor souls with his mistletoe shots. The karaoke song is over by then, so you return the mic to the stand on the cupboard for the next person.

Kaibara comes up beside you to do the same, putting a hand on your lower back. And he whispers to you, "That was really nice."

"Yeah, well," you adjust your beret and necklace, limbs tingling with adrenaline, "Consider it a holiday gift, I guess."

Before you can walk off, Kaibara grabs your wrist and comes close to your ear again, "Maybe I'll see you later?"

You inhale a deep breath through your nose before you turn to face him, studying that stupidly pretty face of his.

And you even consider it for a second. A very short second. Because drunk as you are, you know that there are so many better choices for you to make than this tonight.

But you only manage a vague reply, "Maybe."

Then you pull your wrist back and round the karaoke floor area to return to the water dispenser, where you left your bag with Ashido.

And to your surprise, you find her there with none other than the one guy you had been hoping to see all night. She's speaking in aggressive whispers to Sero, even shaking his shoulders a bit, until he turns and meets your eyes. Then they both freeze when they see you.

"Hey." He greets.

"Hey." You reply, walking up to them when Ashido pulls hands away from Sero and gives him a lecturing look. "I was, uh... I was looking for you."

"Yeah, me too." He says, kind of breathlessly, "Sorry I didn't text you. I was out all day and my phone died on me."

"Oh." you nod, awkwardly.

You're drunk and spiraling. When did he get here? How long has he been here? Did he see that kiss just now?? Does he— Does he think that— that... you enjoyed it? Or that you aren't serious about him?

But at the same time he and you aren't even a thing yet? So it's not like you owe him anything? And it's not like you haven't caught him with someone else before. Though you did feel kinda shitty after that. If he feels anything like you did at that time, you have no idea if it would work in your favor or not.

"Want some water?" Ashido interrupts your thoughts, holding out a cup to you, which you thankfully take.

"That was a pretty eventful song." Sero says with a chuckle, though you can't tell if there's any actual humor in it because you're still a little fogged up.

But damn. So he did see it.

Awesome.

"Yeah, I'll say." You sigh as you put your emptied cup down.

"Are you okay?" Ashido asks you, with genuine concern, her eyes flashing quickly towards Sero.

"I'll be fine." You answer decidedly, then look carefully up at Sero, "But I could use some air."

"I'll take you," Sero jumps on your cue immediately, "Vamos afuera."

Ashido hands you back your bag with a quiet whisper of "good luck" before you follow Sero out of the room, wishing the very same thing for myself.

—

tbc

part 9

#sero hanta x reader #sero hanta #bnha x reader #oopsy late for the holidays bc i was physically and mentally unwell 🤘 #sorry for the slight cliffhanger i had to split this part into two otherwise it would've been like 10k lol #happy new year all #drabble #mine