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girlrotterr · 2 months

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But I'm a lesbian!

ellie x abby x dina x fem!reader a/n: inspired by the movie, "but i'm a cheerleader" !! Did my own little spin on it. (This may have a part two!)

→ Part two! → Part three! → Part four! → Part five!

Forced to a camp known as "True Directions," your arrival was no choice of your own. Your parents, upon discovering your sexuality, had made the decision to send you there. As you followed your guide towards the dormitories, someone caught your eye—a girl with auburn hair, casually puffing on a cigarette.

Noticing your presence, the girl glanced up and rolled her eyes. Your guide gestured towards her, prompting her to approach you. Extending her hand, she introduced herself, "Ellie."

"Hello," you responded, your voice betraying your nerves as you shook her hand, noting its soft yet firm grip.

With a sigh, Ellie remarked, "they sent new meat here again, huh?" She took another drag from her cigarette, casting a judgmental gaze in your direction.

"I’m sure to be out of the way," you said, trying to sound confident. "I’ll pass every trial here to get back home."

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. “Uh-huh..." she mused. “You’ll be here a while then."

“Ahem," the guide cleared her throat towards Ellie, who responded with an eye roll before retreating to her pink bed.

"Very well then, I will leave you to unpack your things. This will be your dorm. You will share this space with three other roommates, feel free to report anything back to me," she said, her tall and commanding presence by her bouncing blond hair as she talked.

"Especially anything involving this one," she added, shooting a glance at Ellie.

"Well," the guide grasped your arms, giving them a squeeze, "welcome to 'True Directions,' we'll fix you right up, dear!”

You gave a hesitant half-smile, trying to hide your discomfort.

Returning your gesture with a bright smile, the guide nodded happily before leaving, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Silence.

Clutching onto your suitcases, the silence became increasingly awkward, and you debated whether to speak up. Should you ask where to put your belongings? But the fear of annoying or bothering Ellie made you hesitant.

Fuck it.

"Um, excuse me, where can I—"

"There," Ellie interrupted, her tone nonchalant as she pointed toward a corner of the room, her gaze still not meeting yours.

Your eyes followed her gesture to an empty white dresser tucked away, starkly different from the others that were already occupied. Making your way towards the dresser, you took in the room once more. The overwhelming femininity was hard to ignore—pink walls, beds, and shelves adorned with stuffed animals. Setting your suitcase down with a thud, you unzipped it, the sound of the zipper echoing loudly in the silent room.

Opening the drawer, the scent of brand new furniture wafted across your nose, tickling it and nearly causing you to sneeze.

Ellie got up from her bed, pulling open her drawer with a tug. In it were an assortment of items—makeup, hair accessories, and jewelry jumbled together. Rummaging through it, Ellie let out a sharp exhale, finally finding something from the depths of the drawer.

Without a glance in your direction, she held out a ribbon and a few hair clips. "Here," she muttered.

Your eyes widened at the adorable accessories as she tossed them over to you. "Put your hair up or something. It's better not to have it in the way, especially during our routines.”

"Ah, thank you," you expressed, catching them. "Are these.. yours?"

"Yeah... unfortunately," Ellie responded dryly.

With a nod, you started to arrange your hair with the clips.

As you styled your hair, the weight of Ellie's gaze pressed against your back like a physical force. Every subtle movement you made was studied, from the way you lifted strands of hair to the careful twisting of the ribbon around the ponytail. Even the simple act of tucking a stray lock behind your ear felt intense.

What’s this girl's deal?

The intensity of her stare became almost suffocating, leaving your hands trembling slightly as you worked. Despite her focus only on your hair, the sensation of being under her gaze felt like she was peering into your soul.

Finally, Ellie broke the silence with a quiet, husky voice, her words cutting through the tension. "You need a mirror?"

Her gaze remained fixed on you, relentless.

"No," you managed to reply, attempting to be confident.

But the moment her voice echoed throughout the room, heat began rising to your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but hesitate. Her presence felt overwhelming, a mix of nerves, fear, and desire swirling within you, all under her attention.

“Hm..” Ellie replied, seeming more curious now. She uncrossed her arms and slowly walked over to you. You could hear the way Ellie’s footsteps made the floor creak as she walked.

"Hm?" you managed to utter as Ellie closed in on you, her presence surrounding you with every step she took. The breath from her lips brushed against the nape of your neck as she leaned in.

"You're missing a strand," Ellie said, her voice softer than before.

The sensation of her being so close, her breath teasing your skin. You wanted to turn around and face her.

Her closeness was so overwhelming.

As Ellie's hand brushed against your hair, a sharp shiver coursed through your spine, setting your heartbeat into a quick rhythm. Her touch lingered, fingers twirling strands of your hair, as she leaned in even closer, so suffocatingly close. It felt as though Ellie was on the verge of whispering something, her breath agonizingly near-

"Yo, Ellie!"

The tension in the room broke as Dina and Abby burst in, causing Ellie to let go of your hair and step back.

Their expressions shifted abruptly from excitement to surprise as they noticed you. Dina's curious gaze looked over, her head tilting in confusion, while Abby's cold stare pierced through you.

"You must be the new one," Abby remarked, her tone icy, her eyes never leaving you as if dissecting your very being.

"Y-yeah.. I am," you responded, finally finishing your hair.

Abby simply nodded in acknowledgment, while Dina chuckled to herself.

"Aw, the new girl is all nervous!" Dina's teasing remark was followed by a smirk and a playful wave of her hand. She shifted her attention to Ellie, observing her growing annoyance. Dina seemed to catch on to something, finding the situation amusing.

"Ooooh! Ellie was hitting on ya!" Dina's snickering only added to Ellie's frustration as she clenched her jaw tightly, arms crossed.

Abby, maintaining her silent observation, continued to stare at the both of you.

"Ah! no..she was just helping me with my hair," you replied, attempting to stop the teasing.

"Awh. Is that so?" Dina's teasing tone persisted as she continued to giggle, her gaze towards Ellie who remained annoyed.

Abby's gaze suddenly shifted as she walked towards you, gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Her touch was surprisingly tender.

"There," she remarked softly, a smile gracing her lips, the gesture catching you off guard. It was so unexpected. "You had missed a strand."

Abby looked back at Ellie, a smirk on her lips, her eyes flickering as she made a mocking glance with her.

Suddenly, the camp director barged in, her authoritative voice vibrating throughout the room. "Ladies!" she commanded, making all the girls snap their attention towards the door where the camp director now stood.

Ellie groaned as soon as she heard that familiar voice.

"All of you, get out for morning exercise," the director ordered, her stern gaze scanning everyone. "Now."

With a swift turn, the camp director walked out of the room, the echo of her clicking heels fading as she left. Abby, Dina, and Ellie all groaned in unison, knowing what was to come. They made their way to their designated dressers, preparing to change into their gym clothes.

Amidst the shuffling of clothing, you voiced your confusion. "W-what are we doing?"

Abby scoffed at your question, a smirk on her lips. "Did Ellie not go through the routines and rules with you?"

You shook your head.

"Not surprising," she remarked before chuckling, "she always seems to get distracted-"

“We're doing morning cardio and stretching routines,” Ellie cut in, her voice clear and assertive, pulling out her sports bra and short shorts. “Your gym clothes are in your dresser.”

Abby bit her lip, suppressing a laugh. "Well, there you go.”

You nodded in understanding, “thanks..”

Walking to your dresser, you pulled open the top drawer, revealing a variety of outfits and uniforms, all varying shades of pink. The sight left your head spinning a bit as you realized this would be your life for the next couple of months.

As you began changing, you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you. With hesitant movements, you peeled off your shirt and skirt, the fabric slipping from your skin with a soft rustle. All the while, you were aware of Abby and Ellie's eyes lingering on you.

Abby's gaze, though subtle, was sharply observant, her eyes tracing up and down your body with an almost predatory glare. It was as if she was memorizing every curve and contour. Meanwhile, Ellie's attention was more focused, her gaze lingering on specific areas of your body, like your hips and chest. There was an intensity in her stare, a curiosity that was borderline intrusive.

Slap!

With a sharp sting on your ass, a sudden jolt of surprise chilled through you, causing you to yelp. "You'll make us late at this pace!" Dina's voice rang out, her arm wrapping around you protectively, shielding you from the view of Abby and Ellie.

"Ah! You're right," you exclaimed, quickly slipping into your gym clothes.

Dina gave you a quick grin before turning her attention towards Abby and Ellie. Squinting her eyes playfully, she shook her head slowly, teasingly disappointed in the two of them. Abby hurriedly looked away, pretending to be preoccupied with tying her shoelaces, while Ellie rolled her eyes.

───

As you and the other girls made your way to the track, you found yourselves walking together in a small group. Ellie and Abby led the way, showing no signs of slowing down despite your struggle to keep up. Meanwhile, Dina’s pace was slower, occasionally glancing at you.

"So, how'd you get caught?" Dina asked slyly, a mischievous look in her eyes.

You turned to look at her, taken aback by the sudden question. "What?"

"You were sent here for a reason," Dina said curiously, making Abby and Ellie turn their heads, intrigued to hear your response.

"I..don't think I want to share," you said, avoiding eye contact from feeling a bit nervous.

"Oh, come on!" Dina urged, now walking next to you, realizing your hesitance. "Don't be so shy. How about we tell you ours? Will that make you less embarrassed?"

"Hmm..alright," you agreed. Maybe learning about their experiences would help get to know them.

Excitedly, Dina clapped her hands together. "Okay, okay! I'll go first." She moved closer to you, her shoulder practically bumping into yours. "I got caught watching lesbian porn."

A snicker escaped Ellie's lips as she tried to hold back her laughter.

Dina shot a playful glare. "You have no right to laugh, El's."

"Doesn't make it any less funny," Ellie retorted.

Dina scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Since it’s sooo funny, you go then."

Ellie's eyes locked onto yours, her voice embarrassed. "I ordered a strap online, and it got delivered to the wrong address. To my fucking neighbor, Seth. Dude went ballistic and sent me here, said I needed to be controlled."

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks as Ellie's words sank in, full of curiosity and intrigue. The mere idea of her wearing a strap sent a flow of sensations that pulsed throughout your body. Your throat became dry trying to visualize it.

"Ab's! Your turn!" Dina interrupted excitedly, Abby's story was always her favorite.

Abby smirked, turning her gaze towards you. "Unlike Ellie, I got to use my strap," she remarked mischievously.

Ellie groaned at Abby'scomment, clearly unimpressed.

“I got caught fucking my father's assistant nurse with it.”

Dina squealed as she shook your arm excitedly. "Now THAT'S a coming out story!" she exclaimed.

Ellie shot Dina a glare, clearly annoyed by her reaction. With a scoff, she turned her head away, facing in the opposite direction.

Abby, on the other hand, smirked at Ellie's and playfully hit her back. "Aw, it's okay, El's," she said reassuringly.

"Okay, okay, tell us yours now," Dina urged eagerly, her and Abby's curious gazes fixed on you,

“Well..” you began, your hands fidgeting nervously as you mustered up the courage. “My parents walked in on me and my cheer captain…” You hesitated for a moment before continuing “...69’ing on the kitchen counter.”

Ellie quickly snapped her head back to look at you. Dina and Abby’s eyes widened, completely startled.

“Y-yeah…” you confirmed, meeting the girls' shocked gazes. “Mid-squirt too…”

Ellie’s eyes widened as if they were going to pop. Dina’s jaw dropped, with her mouth slowly curving into a smirk, “You fucking win.”

───

"Alright, ladies," the head director announced, her voice carrying across the track, “forty-five minutes around the track, as per usual. Afterward, we hit the showers in preparation for cooking classes."

"Remember, ladies," she continued excitedly, "these skills aren't just beneficial, they also attract men! It's just another step closer to becoming 'normal'."

The moment the word "normal" left the director's lips, you noticed the collective eye rolls and groans from the other girls. Ellie's jaw tightened as she stared away, grumbling under her breath. Abby crossed her arms, completely unamused, while Dina couldn't help but snicker, lowering her face to hide her giggle.

With a sharp blow of the whistle, the director signaled the start of the morning run.

As you began your laps around the track, you couldn't help but notice the effortless speed and stamina of Ellie and the other girls. They seemed to glide around the track with ease.

Struggling to keep up, your legs began to burn. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps as you pushed yourself onward.

"Hey, you doing okay?" Abby asked.

"Ye..yeah..." you managed to reply between heavy breaths.

Abby arched an eyebrow, clearly seeing through you. "You do know we have about 20 more laps to go, right?"

Before you could respond, a sudden stumble sent you tumbling to the ground. Abby instinctively reached out to help, but her attempt only resulted in her losing her balance, causing her to trip and accidentally pull Ellie down with her.

Ellie hit the concrete hard, her knee taking the force of the fall. Gritting her teeth, she clenched her jaw tightly as pain shot through her scrapped knee. With all three of you on the ground, the sudden scene caused a chuckle from Dina. "Holy shit, you guys fell like bowling pins," she remarked.

"Shit, sorry El's-" Abby began to apologize.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Ellie yelled, her tone cold as she glared up at Abby.

Abby glared back at Ellie, her expression tense. "What-"

“Watch where you’re fucking going. It’s not that hard,” Ellie snarled, gritting her teeth as she noticed the large scrape on her knee.

“T-that was on me-" you added, feeling guilty for the accident.

Abby suddenly got up, her face contorted with anger as she looked down at Ellie. “I didn’t mean to, I-"

Ellie suddenly stood up too, her height making her have to look up at Abby. “I’m so fucking sick of you trying to assert something. It’s fucking annoying.”

Abby scoffed, “Yeah? I’m tired of your pussy fucking attitude.” She then moved closer towards Ellie, the sudden bump causing Ellie to sway a bit.

Ellie chuckled, tilting her head to the side before locking eyes with Abby. “Pussy, huh?”

“You are what you fucking eat,” Abby snapped back, her tone sharp.

You got up from the concrete floor, every inch of your body feeling the lingering sting from the sudden impact. “She didn’t mean to, I tripped and-” you tried to explain, but before you could finish, Ellie raised her fist. Her initial target being Abby, who managed to step back just in time to avoid the blow. Unfortunately, you stepped further, positioning yourself between them, but before you could react, Ellie's fist mistakenly met your nose.

“Holy shit!” Dina yelled, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

You felt the impact jolt through your body as you stumbled back, finding stability in Abby's embrace as her arms wrapped around you from behind.

“Fuck, I am so sorry-" Ellie began to apologize, her voice filled with remorse.

“Fucking really?!?” Abby yelled, frustrated as she stepped you to the side. “You fucking hit her!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Ellie yelled back, her tone defensive as she tried to explain herself.

“Didn’t mean to? You punched her!”

“G-guys, I’m fine-" you said, your voice strained through the pain, attempting to step towards them again, holding your throbbing nose.

“I was clearly trying to punch your bitch ass!” Ellie yelled.

“Oh yeah?” Abby raised her fist, aiming for Ellie, her knuckles clenched as she intended to give her a piece of her mind for hurting you and being such a brat. However, as you stepped in between them once again, Abby's fist accidentally hit you, the impact shocking you and causing a blur in your vision.

“Oh my god!” Dina yelled, her eyes widening in horror as she flinched.

You stumbled backward, the world blurring around you as you tripped over your loose shoelace, your body rushing towards the concrete floor once again, jarring your senses and sending a wave of pain through your body.

Abby took her hands to her chest, her mouth covered in disbelief.

“fuck, fuck, fuck! Are you okay?” Ellie exclaimed, her voice filled with concern as she quickly knelt down beside you.

Your nose was now bleeding, droplets of blood scattering across the concrete floor like raindrops. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, mixing with the scent of sweat. You winced as pain shot through your face, throbbing relentlessly.

“I think my nose is broken…” you managed to say, your words muffled by the blood dripping down your face.

“Now nobody can sit on her face,” Dina groaned.

#ellie williams #abby anderson #dina tlou #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie fanfic #ellie williams au #ellie fanfiction #ellie smut #abby fanfiction

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bruciemilf · 2 months

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I’m on the second episode of My Adventures With Superman and I KNOW I know, this deserves to be Clark’s show, BUT HEAR ME OUT A SECOND.

Imagine the Waynes didn’t die and Thomas is trying DESPERATELY to buy the Daily Planet from White, but to absolutely no avail.

“For the last time, Wayne, you can have this company when the Gotham Knights win a Stanley Cup.”

“Y’all cheated last year and you KNOW it, White! Come on! We knew each other for 20 years—“

“Not true.”

“You gotta have ONE nice thing to say about me! You saw my charity records? My trip to the Amazon? I found a goddam dinosaur, for Pete’s sake!”

“And you sent it to the Gotham museum.”

“…Well yeah, it looked real pretty.”

“Look, Wayne. I can either give your ego the stroke of the century, or keep Lane and those two idiot interns in check, but I can’t do both. Now get out of here, or—“

Clark clearing his throat, holding two cups of coffee in his comically large hands, “Uh, the coffee machine broke, so I had to run to the store. Is this a bad time?”

Thomas whistling, because what the FUCK. “Christ, boy, how tall are you? How tall is he, White? You a security guard? You WANNA be a security guard?”

“Uh, Clark Kent. Idiot intern,” Clark introduced himself politely despite Perry’s grumbling.

Needless to say, Thomas Wayne is…Intimidating.

“I’ve heard about your research on metahuman physics, Mr. Wayne. It’s brilliant.”

“Oh, that? That was all my boy, really. He’s got all these ideas about reinventing the healthcare system for everybody or something like that. Hell, he wants to invent some bandaids for that Superman fella. “

“That,” Clark blinked, “Actually sounds amazing.”

“Right?. The other day he came to me like, ‘Can I have 30,000 for a research expedition?’ You should’ve seen him in his little lab coat, — cutest thing. Hold on, I have pictures.”

Clark expected a particularly eccentric 10 year not, not a — gorgeous— adult man in what looked to be a great amount of eyeliner and one hell of a scowl. “He’s…” gorgeous, “He seems interesting.”

“Ain’t he? You should meet him sometime. Hates talking to the press, but, I’m sure we can arrange something. “

“Good luck with that. I tried interviewing the kid alone for 10 minutes and Mr. Wayne here kept getting in the way. Probably because he has something to hide.”

“Bruce ain’t really made for the camera, so I had to step in, ya know how it is. He ain’t really the independent kind.” Thomas shrugs. “I know, I know, — you gotta leave em to fly sometimes, and while I bet he’d look cute tryin’,”

Thomas chuckles, but it doesn’t sound amusing. At all. “No bird leaves MY nest.”

—

Clark finds out why Perry can’t prove Thomas Wayne is Batman. It’s because he’s wrong. He’s listened to Batman’s heartbeat before. And Thomas doesn’t stutter.

Bruce Wayne does, thought.

#them ^^#maws #clark kent #my adventures with superman #dc #dc comics #battinson #superbat #thomas wayne #text post #text

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luveline · 2 months

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How about ploy marauders going to a party and Sirius promised to do readers make up, but is late so the other two are making an attempt. Sure they might know how to do Sirius's messy style, but do they know big dramatic styles? Can James do a perfect wing?

<3 fem, 1k

“Can you stay still?” Remus asks, turning your face a half inch where it’s held in his hand.

“Can James stop kissing me?” you ask.

James pulls his face from the curve of your neck, the warmth of his lips lingering on your skin. “Sorry, are you busy?”

“You’re supposed to be helping.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying yourself.”

You smile. Remus rubs the softest curve under your eye with his thumb, the tip of his tongue sticking out between his lips. He doesn’t know he’s doing it, concentrating instead on your face and the wetness of your makeup where it’s beginning to sink in. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he sighs.

“You know better than I do,” James says.

You don’t know a thing about it, that’s why you’d arranged for Sirius to do your makeup tonight before Marl’s birthday bash, but where is your awful boyfriend? Late, decidedly unavailable for makeup-ing.

“You’ve done his mascara a thousand times,” James argues with Remus.

“Yes, but Sirius has never asked me to do his blush.” Remus’ hand moves to the side of your face. “You are lovely, though. I think using only a little of everything is working in our favour.”

“Sirius only lets him do mascara because he already has nice eyelashes,” you worry. It won’t matter if Remus messes up or doesn’t get close enough to the root.

“Yes, and because he likes it when Remus holds his face like that,” James points out, eyeing Remus’ hand where it stays at your cheek. Remus has long fingers, ever-so slightly thick with two golden rings that kiss your chin as he lets his hand fall, and he’s always gentle.

“James, I’m tapping out.”

James pretends to roll up sleeves he isn’t wearing, your bulkiest boyfriend in a short-sleeved t-shirt that showcases the lean muscle of his forearms, the not so lean ridges of his biceps. They tense as he sits up, his knee jabbing yours, the bed creaking dangerously beneath your angled weight. “What’s there left to do? She’s gorgeous.”

“What did you want?” Remus asks you.

“Uh, I wanted, you know…” You sound ridiculously shy. You wish you could just do all of this faff by yourself rather than force their attention, but neither boy seems annoyed. “He does that smudgey eyeliner, it makes my eyes look bigger. And lipgloss, but I can do that myself.”

“Are you kidding? That’s the best part,” James says. He gives you a smile confident enough to reassure you and handsome enough to make you shy from his touch all over again. “Pass me the black pencil, Remus. I’ve got this.”

James does not got this, his expression melding from happy, adoring, to perturbed, and then annoyed. “Aw, I’ve fucked it.”

Remus shakes his head vehemently. “You haven’t! We just need a wet wipe.”

They search the room for Sirius’ wet wipes and come up empty-handed. A towel is wetted and taken carefully to your eyes instead, cold and rough on your eyelids.

“Be gentler,” Remus whispers.

James is practically atop you know, your chin tilted up to his hand. “Sorry,” he whispers in turn, then to you solely, “‘m I hurting you?”

“No.” You’re whispering too. It feels appropriate; they’re both very close to you, and this movement might fix or ruin your makeup with the party’s start time drawing ever closer.

“I think I’ve fixed it,” James says, taking the pencil up again, the nib soft as it rolls over the corner of your eye. “Sirius can perfect it in the car, right?”

“I thought you were good at everything?” you ask.

James turns your face up impossibly higher, craning his head down for a peck. “Yes,” he whispers severely, “I’m good at everything. But Sirius is usually better. Quick, let’s find your lipgloss before we’re late.”

Remus tries to tell James that it isn’t true, a serious conversation at a bad time, and James won’t listen to a word of it. They quibble over who’s doing your lipgloss, bathe you in compliments when they’re done —aw, dove, you look so cute, and cute? she looks perfect— then suddenly an abrupt beep is sounding outside. The three of you scramble into your jackets and down the stairs, meeting Sirius where he leans against the car. He throws the keys to Remus, ushering you into the backseat with him for some last minute clean up.

“Hey, they’ve done a good job,” he praises, another hand on your face to turn it up kindly to the light. “Did you bring your lipgloss?”

You nod quickly and dig for it in your jacket.

“What!” James says from the front, turning in the passenger seat to complain. “That’s the one thing we did perfectly.”

The car starts. Remus laughs to himself behind the steering wheel.

“Did I say otherwise?” Sirius asks, letting his fingers curve toward the back of your neck. Pale in the light, eyes lit with something funny you’ve yet to hear, he dips in close to you and talks quietly, “I’m sorry, I promised I’d do your makeup for the party. But you’ve all done well without me, you look perfect, especially your lips.”

“Then what did you want it for?” you ask, confused, your seat belt pulling as Sirius encourages you forward.

“To reapply.” He taps your neck with a fingertip. “Spare a kiss? I promise I’ll fix any mess.”

Commotion from the front seat.

“James–” Remus warns.

“What? I want to watch.”

“Freak,” Sirius says lovingly.

“How am I a freak? She’s my girlfriend, you’re my boyfriend, and you’re doing that voice like you’re gonna lay her down in the back seat.”

“James.”

—

requests r open!! pls think about reblogging if you enjoyed, I hope u did either way!!!

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Text

Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone.

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night.

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash.

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up.

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.”

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods.

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain.

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches.

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.”

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow.

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed.

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall.

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor.

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood.

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression.

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale.

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.”

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years.

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.”

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood.

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten.

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal.

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest.

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin.

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art.

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons.

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling.

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out.

You ease at that.

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.”

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?”

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips.

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding.

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap.

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs.

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?”

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in.

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door.

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside.

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches.

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides.

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs.

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.”

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly.

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.”

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.”

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb.

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver.

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all.

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him.

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle.

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth.

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it.

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut.

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger.

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.”

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all.

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off.

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material.

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows.

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head.

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing.

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him.

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man.

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into.

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.”

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display.

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important.

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern.

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet.

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids.

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.”

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh.

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure.

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?”

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek.

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord.

That was really all that matted.

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night.

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug.

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward.

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?”

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree.

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes.

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger.

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

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yanaromanov · 2 months

Text

my sweet assistant

- professor!natasha x lawyer!wanda x reader

part summary: you take a position in assisting professor romanoff after classes to make up for a missed assignment. your flustered state only continues as you’re forced to spend one-on-one time with her, even more so when her wife is introduced into the equation…

part warning(s): teacher/student relationship, age gap (r is of age), power dynamics, married wandanat (no cheating), pet names, mentions of anxiety, mentions of bad family relations, minor death, funeral etc. minors dni

authors note: this took me a bit longer to write and release than i would have liked thanks to my broken arm and writers block so apologies for that. but even tho i kinda hate it, it’s here now, so i hope you enjoy! :)

part two of the inescapable love series

inescapable love series

･｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

11.5K words

People say life comes with its ups and downs, something you had come to learn was rather true, but why did it always seem the downs came at the worst of times? A call from your mother was never really a good sign to begin with, usually her nagging being the only thing waiting on the other end of the line, but this time when you picked up and heard what she had to say, not good turned to terribly bad. It wasn’t the extent of the problem as such that worried you, more so the timing. Your Russian class had an assignment coming up, due in less than a week, and thinking you had enough time to get round to it, you still hadn’t started. Something that would have been totally fine if not for your mom’s name popping up on your phone last night and sharing news that would throw your entire schedule off.

The way your mom had picked up the phone had immediately informed you something was wrong, but a death announcement was certainly the last thing you had been expecting to hear on a Sunday night. It was your grandmother, on your dad’s side. She’d passed away over the weekend, finally giving up on the hospice care she’d been dependent on for months. The news itself hadn’t been too much of a shock, the old woman’s health deteriorating for years, and it didn’t much upset you either. You’d never really been close to your grandmother, your brother being the one favoured from your family, keeping you distanced whenever you visited her house. Your teenage self had already mourned for the relationship you had never had and that felt more painful than the actual loss in front of you now.

The main thing concerning your mind now was how you were going to complete your assignment. On the phone, your mom had told you she’d already booked the flights for you coming home, prepared for the funeral just that week, a quick turn around due the arrangements been made in advance from the anticipation of her death. It would see you in England the entirety of the week, leaving tomorrow afternoon and not returning until late Friday evening. Even with the extra days you had at home, the funeral tea and family gatherings would no doubt leave you no time at all to complete your assignment.

You knew what you had to do now, had done it many times before for other classes, but something about this time felt more intimidating. As you sat in the lecture theatre, watching your professor teach at the front of the class, your heart pounded in your chest at the thought of asking for the extension. More time alone would have to be spent with your Russian professor, the last time still lingering unwanted in your mind. The thought of speaking to her one on one once more was enough to send your anxious mind into a frenzy.

Desperately, you tried to cling on to the reality of things as your lesson continued. It was the day of the week where your class would practice your Russian speaking, conversing with one another whilst Professor Romanoff would walk around, listening in and correcting any mispronunciations. In the end, it would build up to the speaking exam the end of semester held, a private conversation that each student would have with your professor which was then graded alongside your written tests.

The girl sat beside you had claimed the spot as your partner when the first speaking lesson had started up, thankfully not the same girl who’d passed you dirty looks after your perfectly scored paper. The two of you worked through the worksheet in front of you, sounding out the words and building them up into a conversation. Your partner seemed slower than you to grasp the concepts, but you found you didn’t quite mind, allowing your thoughts the moments in between to plan exactly how you’d make your request to Professor Romanoff.

When the class had finally drawn to a close, everyone began packing up their things, worksheets handed back down towards the front. Professor Romanoff stood against her desk, collecting papers as she shouted out across the clamouring hall. “Remember your assignment is due on Friday everyone. Do not use google translate. I can tell!”

It seemed your class wasn’t paying her announcement much notice, instead focused on making it out of the double doors and out into the corridor. Like you had done before, you packed away your things slowly, lingering in the row of seats until almost everyone had left the room. Only when the last few stragglers were close to the door, did you begin your descent towards the central desk. Professor Romanoff stood wiping clean the board once again, back facing you. This time, however, you cleared your throat to make your presence known. The woman’s face was slightly bewildered as she turned, melting away immediately as she spied you standing across the way, a smile appearing on her lips instead. “Miss Y/L/N,” she said, wiping the chalk dust away from her hands and turning back to close the distance between you. “Is everything alright?”

"Uhm, yes," you said nervously, watching as the woman came to stand in front of you. "Well...no, but-" You shook your head, attempting to dispel the anxious thoughts that clouded your brain. Fingers began to fidget as you looked back up at your professor with a nervous smile. "I was wondering if I could possibly get an extension for the assignment?" The redhead in front of you raised a single brow, looking inquisitive to your scenario and hence, drawing more of and explanation from your chest. "It's just my grandma passed away and I have to fly back to England for her funeral this week. I'm not going to be back till Friday night and with all the travelling and family stuff and jet lag, I probably won't have enough time to do it." Your hands gestured about, trying to find anything else to do rather than anxiously pick at your nail beds. "I don't need a long extension, maybe just till Monday? I can get it done over the weekend when I'm back."

The spill of words finally fell short in the silent room, your blurting echoing ever so slightly in the emptiness of the hall. Professor Romanoff stood in front of you, today wearing a matching black skirt and blazer, a white shirt neatly tucked in. "I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother." Your gaze raised up to the pair of green eyes as she spoke, a soft expression held between her features. "Are you doing alright?"

The question had came unexpectedly. You shook your head as you answered. "Oh yeah, I'm fine." You smiled sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders. "We were never close."

"Well," Professor Romanoff replied, gaze softening further. "I'm still sorry to hear about her." She passed you a gentle smile as she stepped towards her desk, leaning against the front of it like it seemed she had a habit of doing. When she looked back up at you, her expression had changed. "As for an extension..." Her emerald stare met yours, always seemingly able to make you shy away. "You're a good student Y/N, so I'd really like to say yes, but unfortunately I have a policy against extensions."

Your memory fleeted back to the first day of class, suddenly recalling the rules your professor had set out. Extensions would only be given to those with medical absence, provided they had a document signed by a health professional. Only remembering that now, you felt entirely stupid for asking for the extension in the first place. "That's right," you blurted. "I'm so sorry, I totally forgot. Listen, forget I even said anything." You adjusted the straps of your backpack as you made to turn your body towards the door. "I'll try get it done on the plane or something. Thank you anyway."

You made it about three steps away before you heard your name being called out from behind you. Slowly, you turned your shoulders, looking back at the woman who still sat against her desk. "Yes, Miss Romanoff?" you called in response. A single manicured nail raised up, the finger curling to beckon you back in the direction you'd came. Biting down on the skin of your cheek, you turned fully, slowly closing the gap that had formed between you and your professor. When you stood in front of her again, you began to rub one of your arms nervously.

Professor Romanoff inclined her head towards you, a faint smile on her painted lips. "I can't give you an extension but I can offer you an alternative. Some extra credit that will cover the assignment, worth the same percentage of your grade. And I'll even give you the full marks."

Your head angled in both curiosity and uncertainty. The prospect of the extra credit sounded like just what you needed, but you couldn't quite grasp the notion that your professor was suggesting. "Full marks?" you asked. "As in, a hundred percent on the assignment?"

A painted smirk pulled at the corner of your professor's mouth, her body leaning ever so slightly closer to yours. "Don't act like it's such a miracle, sweetie. We both know what you're capable of, hm?"

As her words hit you, you could immediately feel the warmth they brought to your cheeks. Face feeling flushed, you tried to distract your brain, unfocusing on the perfect pair of lips still smirking in your direction. "What would I have to do for the extra credit?"

Professor Romanoff sighed, adjusting herself on the desk. You diverted your eyes as her arms crossed her body, once again pushing her slightly-revealed cleavage up against her chest. "Well, my assistant for this year pulled out on me last minute, which has left me just drowned in work." Green eyes met yours as a wide smile spread across the redhead's lips. "So, just give me a helping hand after class for a few weeks and the credit is all yours."

This proposal seemed almost too good to be true. Simply helping out your professor in turn for a perfect grade? It almost didn't seem fair. As you thought over her offer, the idea couldn't help but make you feel a little flustered. After all it would entail spending time alone with the red haired woman, something that seemed to leave you an oddly ruffled mess. But the entire thing sounded far too good to pass up, an opportunity practically laid out on a silver platter. Sounding easy enough to follow through with, you nodded your head with a smile. "Yeah, I can do that."

The smile on Professor Romanoff's face widened at your agreement. "Perfect," she said, green eyes glinting. "Can I see you back here next Monday? Say...three pm?"

You nodded once more. "Yeah. That works for me."

"Alright then," the redhead replied. She stood up from her desk, smiling down on you from the height accentuated by her heeled boots. "Don't you worry your pretty head about the assignment and I'll just see you here next week."

The words seemed to wash over you with a flush, something igniting inside that you couldn't quite put a finger on. Nervously, you looked to the floor, picking at the ends of your jumper while Professor Romanoff moved to stand behind her desk, seemingly unaware of your heightened nervousness. Before you could properly formulate a response, the other woman was already speaking once more. "Go on then. Don't want to be late for your next class do you?"

Her words seemed to shake you back to the present, that nervous little smile appearing on your face again. "Right," you said, adjusting your backpack. "Thank you, professor."

She smiled back at you. "It's no problem, honey. Now run along."

You found yourself nodding as you turned to leave, urged on by her commands. A few steps away she called out to you. "Take care of yourself, Y/N."

You looked back over your shoulder, flashing a small smile. "I will Miss Romanoff. Thank you." And with that, you were walking out the door, headed towards your next class with you mind focused on what exactly your assistant duties with Professor Romanoff may entail.

———

"When are you back again?"

"Friday night. About nine-ish?"

You passed the raven-haired girl a quick glance over your shoulder as you continued to fold the items of clothing in your hand. A loud sigh filled the space as you heard Kate roll over in her bed, rustling the top of her sheets. "That's four whole days of you leaving me completely alone."

As you placed the last of your clothes into the open suitcase, you swiveled around to look at Kate. Your brow furrowed as you noticed your best friend sprawled dramatically across the covers. "Kate, you do realised we have other friends?" you replied with a soft sigh.

But it seemed the girl took no notice, throwing her hand up to cover her eyes as another noise of discomfort slipped from her lips. "I'm gonna look like such a loser at breakfast." The truth was that the pair of you did have more friends at university, with whom Kate could definitely speak to while you were away, despite how the majority of the time it was always just the two of you. This could be down to the fact you were the only ones still sharing a dorm on campus, most of your friends having moved out to apartments around the city. You and Kate had looked into that option but your loan wasn't enough to cover the rent, so you'd both settled to remain in the on-campus accommodation, still sharing your meals in the wide dining hall.

You sighed again. "I'm sorry my grandma dying is such an inconvenience to you." At that, Kate shot up in bed, immediately looking less irritated and instead concerned. The way you smiled playfully back at her, however, made her brows drop ever so slightly, the fear of her actions hurting you slipping away. You'd already told her you weren't all that bothered by the passing, more so annoyed by the bother of it all, but it seemed despite how dramatic she could be, Kate was still worried about your feelings. "Relax Bishop," you said, a gentle smile tugging at your lips. "You know I'm kidding. I hate the fact I'm going just as much as you do." With all the hustle of trying to get through your work that day, you hadn't had much time to think about the reality of going home. Now packing your things, the dread of it all was beginning to settle on your shoulders. Still, you forced a smile on your lips as you walked across to Kate's bed, sitting yourself down next to her. "I'm sorry I'm leaving but I'll make it up to you, yeah?"

Just then, a spark seemed to light up in Kate's eyes. She turned to you, a wide smirk plastered on her lips. "Will you come to a party with me?" The proposal was one Kate often brought up, and one that was just as often shut down. Whenever Kate was getting ready to go out for a night, you were always cooped up in your textbooks, ignoring her complaints of how you studied too much and focusing instead on memorising every piece of material on the paper. For three years, your best friend has had to drag you to every party you'd ever been to, sometimes even snatching the book from your hands and then pleading you with puppy dog eyes. Those same eyes looked at you now, silently begging.

"Fine," you said finally, causing Kate to throw her hands up in the air. You raised your hand before her excitement could get out of hand. "But only one and not until after midterms."

The girl looked slightly disheartened but her smile still remained wide. "Fine," she replied, looking to already be planning the event she'd drag to you in a few weeks time. As Kate settled herself back in her bed, you stood to cross the room, returning to your almost-packed suitcase. You placed the last item in one side - a long black coat Kate had let you borrow to wear to the funeral - then zipped up the first half. All the other half was missing was your toiletries bag, of which would have to wait until the morning to be packed. As you were closing things up, you threw a comment to Kate over your shoulder. "I spoke to my Russian professor today about that extension for the assignment, remember?"

You heard Kate's head turn towards you, becoming distracted from her party planning. "Oh yeah, what'd she say?"

As the final zip on your suitcase closed, you turned back around to your best friend. "She doesn't really do extensions so she said I can help out after class instead to make up my grade."

Kate's brow furrowed. "What, like an assistant?"

"Yeah, exactly. Hers apparently dropped out so I'm filling in for a few weeks." You bent down to push your suitcase under your bed, ready to go tomorrow morning, then stood again, shrugging your shoulders. "She said she'll give me the equivalent of full marks for the assignment."

"Wait, what?" Kate shot up in bed, her jaw hanging slack. "You just help her plan a couple lessons and get a free ride to a perfect score?"

You breathed out a laugh, not only at Kate's theatric tone but also at the improbable truth of the scenario. It hadn't really hit you until now how easy you had it, an exceptional gateway to an easy 'A'. "Yeah," you giggled out, taking a seat on your bed. "I mean, she said I'm a good student so she expected me to do well anyway." You tried to ignore the strange tingle in your head as you recounted your professor's words, instead focusing on Kate who flung herself up in her bed.

"Dude," she said, looking at you incredulously. Her eyes shifted, looking down to the floor. "Maybe I should have taken Russian this year."

Another laugh spilled from your lips as you stood, closing the gap between you and your best friend. "I think you should focus on the classes you're already taking." Your hand reached out for Kate's pulling her up from her bed before she could get a chance to reply. "Now, let's go get dinner. I'm starving."

———

The setting sun streamed in through the wide windows of Natasha's office. The entire room was painted in a soft orange glow, guiding the redhead as she finally began to pack up for the night. Today had been a long day for her, her daily schedule packed and evening full of essay marking that needed to be completed by tomorrow. Finally, Natasha had managed to get finished up, closing her laptop and packing away her notes for the night. She tucked them away into her bag to bring to work the next day before shutting off the lamp inside the room and retiring from her office for the night.

Her feet padded across the wooden floors as she made her way out of the home office. The sun's glow followed her, let in by the expansive windows her and Wanda's house contained. When she reached the living room, Natasha spied her wife curled up on the corner of their sofa, a blanket draped over her legs and an open book sat in her hands. Her footsteps were silent as she made her way over to the other redhead. Though she imagined her wife had still felt her approach, as she didn't flinch when Nat's hands came down for a hug from behind. Natasha's arms wrapped around her wife, a small hum escaping her lips as she pressed a gentle kiss to the pulse point of her neck. "Baby," Natasha whispered, her voice low. Wanda simply hummed in response, her eyes still focused on her novel, her attention only slightly skewed when Natasha leaned in closer, pressing more kisses down the skin of her neck.

"I need to speak to you about something." Natasha's voice remained low, her words fanning out on to her wife's collar bones. She'd been waiting for this moment now for a while, anticipating just the right time to bring up her scenario to her wife. The thoughts had been circling her head for a small while now, perhaps longer than she liked to admit, but she found she couldn't wait any longer to share.

"What is it, moya lyubov?" Wanda's eyes finally raised from her book, head turning over her shoulder to look up at her wife. Though, this position didn't last long, as Natasha lifted her legs and swung herself over the back of the couch, landing in a position beside her wife. This was a habit Wanda hated, forever telling Natasha to 'use her legs like an adult', but this time she didn't have time to pester the redhead as she'd already began to speak. "Do you remember that student we spoke about? The one that got the perfect score."

The slight look of annoyance from Nat's behavior was quickly replaced by an inquisitive expression as Wanda furrowed her brow. The redhead finally closed her book on her lap, sliding a bookmark into place. "Yeah, I do. What was her name again?"

"Y/N Y/L/N."

Wanda hummed, a small smiling appearing on her lips. "That's it. Cute name. What about her?"

Natasha inhaled, her mind passing over the already scripted conversation she'd created. "I spoke with her again today. Came in asking for an extension for an assignment." The redhead smiled, remembering the interaction from that morning. She took another deep breath before she uttered the next words from her mouth. "I think I've maybe taking a liking to her."

"Oh?" Wanda's eyebrows raised, her expression changing to one of surprise. It wasn't new that the couple were searching for someone else in their relationship, the openness of the topic having been in circulation almost since the two had first got together. But the surprise came from the fact Nat had perhaps found someone she believed could slot into their duo, her and Wanda's standards usually far too rigid to find anyone to spend more than a night with. If Natasha was bringing up a girl like this, she must have seriously considered the possibility of a longer association, and that thoroughly intrigued Wanda.

"Now," Natasha continued. "Of course I don't want to do anything we don't both agree on, but..." She paused for just a moment, smiling a little up at her wife. "I would be lying if I said I hadn't already been playing around with her. Just a little bit." Natasha held up her fingers, signaling the small amount of teasing she'd subjected her prized student to. "You know, I didn't want to come asking your permission for a girl who turned out to be a bore."

The more Natasha continued to talk, the more Wanda became interested and invested by the conversation at hand. She slowly slipped her book to the couch beside her, leaning in closer towards her wife. "And is she?"

A wide smirk appeared on Natasha's lips as she relished in her wife's question. "Not in the slightest." Her expression only deepened as she recalled the little moments of you she'd been observing in class. "She's so fucking cute," she said, stating the obvious right off the bat. "She's always early for class and always paying so much attention. She shows up in the sweetest little outfits, like she doesn't even know how good she looks." The redhead smiled as she remembered the sight of you in your small summer dresses or slightly oversized sweaters. "Oh," she said, reminded of her favourite bit of all. "And she has this adorable little English accent."

With the last of her wife's words, a similar looking smirk began to appear on Wanda's own face. "Well now I'm intrigued.”

Natasha smiled back at her words as she shrugged a shoulder. "As I said, I played around a little bit and Wands..." The redhead had to suppress a sigh as she reached for her wife's hand. "I just know how much fun she'd be," she continued, her voice almost a whine. "I mean, she gets flustered so easily. One little pet name and she's already hiding away her flushed face."

Wanda's smirk deepened as Natasha continued to talk, stirred further by the slight desperation she could hear in the redhead's voice. She had to wonder just how long she'd been wondering about this one student and just how much fun she was getting to have without her... "Go ahead, malysh," Wanda replied finally, squeezing her wife's hand gently. "I trust your instincts. You'll just have to introduce me sometime soon."

Natasha's brows shot up. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," Wanda chuckled back slightly, amused by the excitement underlying Nat's voice. When she spoke again, her lips had formed a devilish smirk. "It'll be fun. It's been a while since we had somebody to play with."

———

The funeral was awful. Of course, one never expects such an event to be the epitome of joy, but this particular funeral was like your own personally curated hell. Your entire family was gathered in one place, meaning not only were your parents’ critiques breathed down your neck the entire time, but they were also joined by those more distant. Grandparents and judgmental aunts seemed to team up on you, all obsessing over your university career and what your future plans were. Many pestered the question of your singularity, claiming that ‘a pretty young thing like you should have been swept up by a man a long time ago’. Unfortunately, the almost-compliment that could be found in their talk, was quickly diminished by the discussion of how it must be something wrong with your personality rather than your face, comments all whispered from where they thought you couldn’t hear.

There was no escape from the constant berating, your schedule full of family meals and teas, and far too lengthy conversations around the fireplace, of which you could not be excused due to your mother’s abhorrence of anyone ever thinking of her children as rude. To make matters worse, you were exhausted from jet lag and the flight, something certainly not helped by the endless hours of socializing and pressing on a smile for your family.

Still, you pushed through like the perfect daughter you always tried to be. You sat politely at the funeral, wearing an old black dress and Kate’s coat, the perfume of your best friend aiding a little to your torturous discomfort. Though your family cried, your eyes remained dry, silently staring at your feet and trying not to draw any attention to yourself. At the funeral tea, you shook hands and smiled softly at family members, answering any questions they asked with the grace your mother had forced upon your shoulders at a young age. Of course, she found her usual pride in parading you and your brother around like a pair of trophies she’d spent hours shining. The entirety of every event was exhausting.

Even at the will reading, there was no break to be given. Your late grandmother had graciously scattered her belongings to her loved ones, though seemingly biased to those who she deemed more palatable. Your brother received a chunk of her money alongside her old ring, something the family gushed over due to the prospect of his long-term girlfriend who he could now finally pop the big question to. Your rolled your eyes as they pandered over him, all blatantly dismissive of the old bible you’d been left, with your grandmother’s handwriting inside with a note of how she wished for it to be read out of at your wedding when you finally found yourself a suitable husband. You had simply rolled your eyes and shoved it to the bottom of your bag.

All that being said, it was a huge relief to you when you finally made your way back to the airport. Though you’d had to spend the journey constantly criticized by your mother about your uni work, as soon as you stepped on to the plane, relief was flooding over your shoulders. As the sky came to fill the widow, clouds passing by, you were more than grateful to be heading back to the true place you thought of as home.

Kate came to pick you up from the airport, hugging you immediately and beginning to rant about the idiots she’d encountered in the car park as she pulled your case towards the exit. The pair of you went straight to a mcdonald’s drive thru, your hunger unquenched from the bad aeroplane food you’d been offered. Fries and hamburgers were shared in the front seat of the car as you relayed back your awful week to Kate, telling her everything that you hadn’t even had the chance to text her due to your family’s never-ending nagging.

That weekend was very stressful. Due to the packed schedule you had followed back in England, you’d had next to no time to complete any of your work from that week. So, from morning until night, you cooped yourself up at your desk and ground it all out. At times, Kate had to drag you down to the hall for some food or persistently remind you to even go to bathroom. In the end however, you managed to get it all finished. By eleven o’clock Sunday night, you were finally all caught up from your missed classes and had completed all your deadlines. The light in the room were low, only your small desk lamp lighting up the space. Kate slept in her bed, hair fanning out across the pillows. You were quiet as you cleaned your space, eyeing the untouched plate of food Kate had brought up for you after you’d refused to go down for dinner. It was long cold now and you felt a little guilty throwing it out, but you were far too tired now to think about eating. Instead, you simply turned off the light and slid yourself into your bed, finally letting your mind rest and prepare itself to return to your regularly scheduled classes the next morning.

———

"Alright everyone, that's all for today's lesson. Are there any questions?"

Like always, the bustle began began your professor could even finish his sentence. Everyone was already packing away their things, drowning out the teacher's voice with their own hustle to leave. It happened almost every class, and almost every time you felt bad, one of the only people who remained still until they had officially dismissed you. But today, you found yourself following the crowd more than you usually would have. See, your professor had droned on a bit too long that afternoon, moving into the passing period you had between classes. Most times that wouldn't have been a big deal seeing as it was your last class of the day, but today was the day you were supposed to meet Professor Romanoff and thanks to your English professor's extensive elaborations, you were left with only a few minutes until you'd be late. So today you put your cares aside and as the class packed up, so did you, stuffing everything into your backpack and throwing it over your shoulder before joining the crowd exiting the lecture hall.

Your English building was on the exact opposite side of campus as your destination, so your feet held a quick pace as you flitted between the crowds of students on your way. Pathways were held up by casually conversing people, all relaxed now their days were over. They all annoyed you severely as they slowed down your journey, obviously uncaring that you still had places to be. By the time you had reached the building in which your Russian class was held, the clock was already a few minutes passed the scheduled time. You almost burst in through the doors of the hall, ever so slightly out of breath from your fast paced journey across campus. As soon as you entered the room, you spied the redheaded professor sat at her desk, head buried into her laptop. She looked up to you as you walked across the floor, nervously adjusting the backpack straps on your shoulders. "Hi," you breathed out, trying your best to seem casual despite your racing lungs. "I'm sorry I'm a little late. My last lecture ran over a little."

A pair of perfectly white teeth smiled back in your direction, Professor Romanoff looking you over. "Y/N," she said, her gentle voice falling upon your ears. Something about it in that moment made you realize you had almost missed it over your break, but the rational part of your brain soon took over and told you you were being ridiculous. "Don't worry about being late, you're barely two minutes over." She smiled again as you closed the final distance between you, moving to stand by the edge of her desk. She stood as you did, displaying today a pair of grey slacks and a soft black jumper, all adorned with delicate gold jewelry. Her smiling face looked down at you, that forgotten odd feeling of warmth spreading through your gut. "It's good to see you again. How are you? How was your trip?"

You ignored the sensation in your stomach as you smiled back at her. "I'm good. The trip was fine. A little boring but fine." There were many worse words to describe your trip than ‘boring' but you decide to settle for that, not wanting to bother your professor with the complicated details of your family and more so, simply wanting to leave the entire week in the past and not think of it again.

“That’s good,” Professor Romanoff replied with that same easy smile. “I’m glad to hear you’re alright.” Her hands lifted from the pockets they hid in, reaching out to open a drawer of her desk. You wondered for a moment what she might be looking for before she pulled out a small stack of papers, extending them out towards you. “These are some extra notes from last week’s lectures.”

You smiled, slightly surprised. “Oh, thank you.” Most of your university work could be found online for both absence and revision purposes, but it never was quite the same as attending the classes themselves. Usually you hated using just the online notes to catch up, never grasping the material as well as you’d like, but this weekend you’d had to make do. That was, of course, until Professor Romanoff handed you the extra notes. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Well,” your professor replied. “I wouldn’t want my best student falling behind, would I?”

Her words worked to form that warm sensation across your cheeks, the given title heating up your insides with flustering pride. You were grateful the woman had started to busy herself at her desk with something else as you tried to brush off her compliments as smoothly as possible, attempting to hide the flush of your skin.

“You can grab a chair from the side. Bring it over.”

You nodded, almost snapping back to reality once more with Professor Romanoff’s words. You placed your backpack down beside her desk, quickly slotting the extra notes into the large pocket before moving to grab a spare chair from the edge of the room. When you returned, your professor had seemingly found what she was searching for, a large stack of papers now sat in the centre of the desk.

“Sit,” Romanoff beckons with a smile, gesturing her hand towards the front of her desk. You pull up your chair, positioning yourself across from her own seated position. “These are tests I need marked. They’re all multiple choice and there’s a marking scheme.” The redhead lifted a single piece of paper, handing it over your way. “So you’ll just have to see if the letters match up on both papers. That sound okay?”

You nodded once more, her instructions seeming simple enough. “Yeah, sounds fine.”

“Great.” With a smile, Professor Romanoff slid the pile of unmarked papers across the desk towards you. She explained that if you needed any help, just to ask, and that she’d just be busying herself on her laptop. You nodded again, reaching into your backpack quickly for a pen before you began to work away.

It was an easy job really, simply matching the circled letters on the quiz papers to that of the marking scheme. In truth, it was almost relaxing to have something to do that didn’t require much brain power. Professor Romanoff sat across from you, typing away on her laptop. Occasionally, you’d look up to take a glance at her, catching moments of concentration or boredom on her face, but your eyes would never linger long, too scared of getting caught looking her way. She’d turned on the radio to fill a bit of the silence, music humming softly from a black stereo on the edge of the desk. All in all, the endeavour was a blessing in disguise - much simpler and easier than the effort the equivalent assignment would have took.

“You getting on alright, milaya?”

The voice brought you from the almost trance you’d put yourself in as you marked the set of papers. Your head rose from them, more than half the stack already complete as you smiled back at your professor. “Yeah, all good.”

She nodded, smiling at you with her perpetually perfect red lips. Under her gaze, you felt your eyes drop back to the papers, for some reason feeling entirely too see every time she looked your way. She went to turn back towards her laptop, your hand reaching out to continue marking, but a lingering question had been vibrating in your head. You had been too afraid to ask before, to be the one to break the soft silence of the room, but now was your opportunity. “Are these law papers?”

Professor Romanoff looked back at you, her expression soft. “Yes,” she said, simply. “I also teach a beginners law class alongside my usual Russian.”

You felt your eyebrows raise, unexpecting of her answer but also rather impressed. Now it made sense why the papers you were marking were not at all taking about Russian vocabulary but instead legal terminology.

“I studied a law major at college,” the red haired woman continued. “It was going to be my career until I decided to teach instead.”

“Huh,” you hummed, interested by the new information you were discovering about your teacher. “Why’d you decide to switch?”

Romanoff shrugged a shoulder. “Honestly, I love teaching.” A small smirk then appeared on her lips as she leaned in closer across the table. “Besides, my wife is a lawyer and just between me and you, I’m not sure I’d like her as my boss. She can be a little scary sometimes.”

There was a playfulness to her tone that you easily pick up on, the entire interaction meant as a jest, but somehow it left you with a strange feeling in your chest. You listened to your professor’s words, but your mind seemed to stick on one. Wife. In that moment, you suddenly realised you hadn’t pictured her being married - not that you had pictured her at all, your mind chided in defence. Now you quickly realised that she was indeed with another person, and not just that, but with a woman. Suddenly you had to push your mother’s berating thoughts from your head.

“So what about you?”

“Sorry?” you replied, mind crashing back to the present moment. Professor Romanoff looked back at you with an almost playful looking smirk. It only added to that strange feeling inside your chest.

“What’s your major?” the redhead elaborated.

“Oh.” You sat up straighter, trying to adjust your jumper in an effort to conceal the fact you’d gotten lost in your thoughts once more. “I’m an English major.” Romanoff raised a brow, the smirk on her face widening to almost a smile. You sighed softly, throwing your head to the side. “You can make the joke if you want, everyone does.”

An English girl studying English. You’d heard almost every variation of the joke, mostly from drunk boys at frat parties that thought they were the pinnacle of humour. Shouldn’t you already be an expert at that? Wait, they don’t teach you English in England?

You were expecting some similar turn of phrase to escape your professors lips, following in the footsteps of everyone you’d had this conversation with before. But to your surprise, she simply shook her head, frowning ever so slightly. “I think I’ll refrain,” she said, frown turning into the same wide smirk. “I hate being unoriginal.”

A laugh bubbled up in your throat, pushing out through a smile and into the air. Your professor followed, chuckling with you. After a moment, she stilled, looking back at you curiously. “So, tell me,” she said, leaning in closer to the desk. “What does bring you all the way to America to study?”

Because I can’t stand being at home with my parents. “Experience, I guess,” you said with a shrug, hiding away the truth behind a smile. “And I got a full scholarship when I applied so…” Your words died down, not quite sure how to finish your explanation.

Thankfully, your professor seemed to pick up the conversation easily. “A very smart girl, hm?” Her lips met as she hummed and it seemed you could feel the vibrations running down your spine. Your eyes fell back to your lap, trying to hide the awkward smile her praise had brought. You were unsure of what exactly you should do, contemplating if her question was rhetoric or not, and praying the former due to your inability to think of a response. Blessedly, Professor Romanoff cut through your mind’s distress with another question. “You’re in fourth year, right?”

Your eyes picked back up, meeting hers. “Yeah.”

She smiled, crossing her arms over her chest as she stared back at you intently. “And what exactly lead a fourth year English student to my beginner’s Russian class?”

You were getting a little bit of deja vu of the conversation you’d had with Kate multiple times. This time, you settled on the short answer. “I thought it sounded interesting,” you said simply, smiling as you shrugged your shoulders.

Professor Romanoff seemed amused by your answer. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”

You felt yourself smiling back in response. So am I, your brain mused, but your consciousness refused to let anything move past your lips. Instead, Romanoff was picking up the conversation once again. “What’s your plans for after?”

Your eyebrows raised, suddenly surprised by her question. “Sorry?”

The redhead chuckled. “Once you graduate, sweetheart,” she said, voice sounding slightly amused. “What do you plan to do with the rest of your life?”

“Oh right,” you fumbled. You felt a little stupid for thinking she ever meant anything other than that. “My, uh…my mum wants me to go to law school actually…”

A red brow raised in your direction. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded, reminiscent of your previous chatter with your professor. A funny little coincidence that you two may be following a similar path. Although in that moment, you couldn’t help but be a little jealous. She had eventually fallen away from law, moving to a career she was truly passionate for. You were unsure if you’d ever get that opportunity. It had taken months just to convince your mother to let you major in English, claiming it was good for getting into law school after college. And after three years, you still hadn’t been able to convince her away from that same dream of hers, now unsure if you ever would.

“And what to do you want to do?”

“What?” Your professor’s words took you by surprise. When you looked up, it felt as if her eyes had seen straight through you, like she’d been able to hear your every thought.

“Your mother wants you to go to law school,” Professor Romanoff reiterated. “What do you want to do after you graduate?”

Your voice was unsteady in your response. “Go to law school?”

Professor Romanoff raised a brow as she angled her head. “Are you asking me?” All you could muster was a shrug, feeling suddenly very small in the large hall. You didn’t much like talking about what you wanted to do in your life, haven forgone the gesture years ago due to your mother’s constant coercion. But then your professor leaned in slightly, a small smile crossing her lips. “You can tell me the truth, sweetheart,” she said. “I’m very good at keeping secrets.”

The endearment fell on your already blushed cheeks. Most times you wouldn’t have said anything at all, hidden behind the lies your mother had constructed about your person, but something about the redhead’s smile almost drew the words directly from your mouth. “I guess if I could do anything, I’d be a writer,” you said, playing at the sleeves of your sweater.

“A writer?” Romanoff repeated, raising a pair of curious brows.

You felt yourself nodding as a small smile crept on to your lips. “Yeah. I love books and writing, and I guess it’s what I’ve wanted to do ever since I was a little girl.”

“Why don’t you do it then?”

Her words came as a shock, your system unsure of how exactly to respond. You shrank back under the redhead’s gaze, reminded of the words you’d been told so many times they were engraved into your mind. “It’ll be good for me to go to law school. My mum says I’ll get a better job.”

“Maybe…” Professor Romanoff hummed. Then her expression changed to something you couldn’t quite understand as she leaned in closer, her emerald eyes trained on your face. “But do you know what my birth mother used to say about me? She used to tell me I was useless little piece of shit that wouldn’t get anywhere in life.” Your eyebrows raised slightly in shock as you heard her words, especially on the fact she’d cursed so easily and how oddly good it sounded coming from her lips. Then her expression shifted again, an almost smugness taking over that drew your attention away from your own thoughts. “Thirty years later I’m a professor at one of the most prestigious universities in America. I’m married to a very successful lawyer, and living quite frankly an amazing life with a pair of adoptive parents who love me very much.”

Professor Romanoff finished with a small smirk, seemingly unaware of how her words settled on your shoulders. The entire statement was so weighted, so much shared about her as a person in so few words. Something in you felt slightly honoured that she could be that vulnerable around you, or perhaps her story wasn’t one she kept bundled up in her chest like you did, like a weighted lock on your heart. Still, you felt a sense of solace in learning more about your professor, a sense of trust being built in up inside. Her smiling eyes met yours as she leaned in even further on the desk. “Don’t let people who don’t know the real you keep you from what you want. We only get one life, Y/N. Don’t waste it trying to be someone you’re not.”

Her words settled in your stomach with an odd sensation. Her reassurance felt like another brick added to that wall of trust, perhaps her intention to try and learn more of your story. But maybe that trust wasn’t quite strong enough yet.

You shied away, unwilling to share more of your story despite how open Romanoff had seemed, years of criticisms sitting heavy on your shoulders. “Maybe,” you said lowly, picking up your pen once again. But you knew you’d never truly be able to follow through with what she was proposing you should, knew your future fate was already sealed by the woman who’d brought you into this world. She’d have a perfect daughter with her perfect career and wouldn’t settle for less, no matter how it made you feel. For now, all Professor Romanoff’s words could provide was a little fuel to that already dying fire of a dream inside your heart.

The pair of you quickly fell back into the steady silence of your work after your conversation, you pen dotting over papers as your professor turned back to her laptop. The radio played quietly in the background as you tried to push whatever words lingered in your head, both from your mother and the redhead in front of you, too many feeling provoked from the subject to allow you to focus properly. Dispelling them from your mind, you trained your eyes on the marking schemes in front of you, though having some of the answers memorised by now, and continued to work away at the stack of tests on the desk.

Time passed quickly once more, your speed increasing as the papers became more familiar in your hands, easily noticing the same mistakes made over and over. Occasionally you heard Romanoff begin to hum along to a song on the radio, focusing momentarily on her soft voice before refocusing on your work. In your mind, you became determined to finish them as quickly as you could, absentmindedly hoping to impress the woman they were for.

You were almost finished your task, down to the very last paper when a shrill sound cut through the soft atmosphere of the room. Both you and your professor’s heads shot up from your work, eyes turning to your backpack from where the loud ringtone emanated. Shit, you thought, obviously accidentally turning on the ringer that you always kept silenced.

“I’m sorry,” you said, glancing over at your professor in slight fear of her reprimand. But in return, you were only met with a soft smile.

“Don’t worry, milaya,” Romanoff replied gently. “This isn’t class time. You can answer your phone.”

Relieved by her answer, you let out a soft sigh. Reaching over, you began to dig through your bag to find your mobile, the nonsensical tune still ringing out. With no suprise, when you found it, Kate’s name and profile picture covered your screen. Quietly, you apologised again before accepting the call, slightly turning away in your chair as you held your phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” Kate’s voice replied back from the other end of the device. She sounded slightly off but you couldn’t quite tell why.

“Are you okay? What’s up?”

A small sigh sounded in your ear. “Okay, please don’t get mad at me again but-“

You were replying with a sigh of your own before Kate could even finish her sentence. “You forgot your key again, didn’t you?”

“I’m so sorry,” the girl on the end of the other phone pleaded.

You sighed again, shaking your head. “Kate, how many times-“

“I know! I know,” she cut off. “I’m the worst person ever. But I slept in this morning and just forgot to put it in my bag. I’m sorry.”

Your sigh turned less frustrated. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” At your core you weren’t a confrontational person. You could never stay mad at anyone for long, especially Kate.

“Well, I came back to the room and you’re not here,” your best friend continued through the phone. “I thought you were finished english at three?”

“I am,” you replied. “But I’m helping out Professor Romanoff, remember? I’m in her class right now.”

You could hear Kate’s realisation through the call. “Shit. I am so sorry.” There was a pause. You could picture Kate dancing on the heels of her feet, the same way she did every time she needed to ask you a favour. “Uhm, could I possibly swing by and pick up your key then? Please Y/N, I really need to finish my computing assignment. It’s due at five.”

If there was anyone who would leave their work until one hour before the deadline, it was Kate. Another soft sigh escaped your lips. “Fine.”

Kate’s smile could practically be heard through the phone. “Thank you! What room are you in?”

“Language building, room ML4.”

“Okay,” Kate replied. “I’ll be right there. You’re the best, I love you.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little as you responded. “Love you too.”

With that, Kate hung up the call. You pulled your phone away from your ear, switching it off and throwing it in your pocket as you turned back in your chair. “I’m so sorry,” you began, facing back to your professor. “It’s my roommate, Kate. She’s locked herself out again.”

Romanoff raised a curious glance. “Again?”

“Bad habit.” You smiled back sheepishly, shrugging your shoulder. “She’s just going to stop by and pick up my key, if that’s alright?”

The redhead smiled back at you. “Of course. That’s perfectly fine.” A small sigh of relief escaped your lips, glad that the encounter wouldn’t be a problem. “But I think we’re actually almost done here,” Romanoff continued. “How are you getting on with those papers.”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied, pulling yourself back towards the desk and the stack of papers sat atop of it. “I’m actually just on the last one.”

“Well if you just finish that up, you can run along with your friend when she gets here.”

“You’re sure?” you replied, looking up. You didn’t want Kate’s endeavour to disrupt any of the help your professor needed. But the redhead simply nodded in response.

“I’m sure, Y/N.”

“Okay then,” you responded, nodding your head softly. A small smile was passed between the two of you before you were grabbing your pen once more, reaching out to finish marking the final test in the stack. Your hand moved quickly as you corrected any of the mistakes, flicking through the sheets of paper at an impressive rate. It was just as you were marking the last question that the noise of the hall doors opening drew your attention.

Clamouring in, Kate appeared inside the hall, her backpack momentarily getting caught on the handle before she was able to free herself. She stood sheepishly inside the room, looking across the way and spying you and your professor sat at the desk. “Uhm, hello,” the girl announced. You could tell she was trying to play it cool but she had that same almost awkward look she got whenever a girl she liked try to talk to her. “I’m, uh, Kate Bishop. Y/N’s roommate.” Her finger pointed to you, as if trying to prove she hadn’t barged in for no apparent reason.

Professor Romanoff had stood from her desk as Kate had entered, her hands finding a place resting inside her pockets. Now, she smiled across at her. “Yeah, she mentioned.”

Kate gave that awkward little laugh of hers and you had to refrain from not giggling at her yourself. “Sorry to just barge in on you guys. Are you still…” Her hands gestured towards you and the desk, trying to gage where you were with the work.

But Romanoff simply shook her head in response with a short smile. “No worries, Miss Bishop. We were just finishing up.”

Kate’s eyebrows raised. “Great,” she replied, sticking one of her thumbs up.

You had to stifle your laughs at her awkwardness. Was this how she interacted with all of her professors, or just the ones she didn’t know? As you hid your smile, you tidied up the stack of papers on the desk, piling them up neatly before rising to your feet. “Okay, Miss Romanoff,” you said, slightly pushing them in her direction. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for you?”

The woman turned back to you with her gentle smile, her voice soft. “That’ll be all for today, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you replied, adjusting your jumper as you reached down for your backpack, throwing it over one shoulder. “Well, thank you again for this.”

Romanoff smiled. “No, thank you. I’d be drowning in work without your helpful hands.” A smirk seemed to form on her lips as she sent an emerald wink your way.

The action left you suddenly stuttering for the right words, embarrassingly affected by such a simple action. “Right,” you finally managed, voice jumbled. “I’ll uh- see you on Wednesday?”

Thankfully Professor Romanoff didn’t seem too bothered by your flustering state, if anything you might have said she even looked amused. “I’ll see you in class, Y/N,” she said, smiling down at you.

You returned the gesture as you turned away, walking to close the distance between where you and Kate stood. As you met the raven-haired girl’s side, a voice called out to the both of you. “Have a nice night, ladies.”

You turned briefly to Romanoff, smiling as you and Kate hummed a thanks in unison. As you passed through the doors to the hall and exited into the corridor, you felt your shoulders loosen ever so slightly, that perfect emerald stare still lingering in your mind. You couldn’t quite understand why you left that class always feeling so worked up.

This time, however, there was little space for you to think about it, as merely a few steps down the hallway, Kate was grabbing hold of your upper arm. “Holy shit, that’s your Russian professor?”

You turned quickly to your best friend, both startled and shocked by her sudden comment. “What? Yeah?”

Kate breathed out a laugh. “Y/N, you never told me she was hot as shit.”

“What?” you stuttered, taken about by Kate’s choice of words. “She’s not- I mean -I-I never noticed.”

The girls hand shook your arm slightly as the pair of you continued to walk. “Never noticed? Y/N, you must be blind because that was one of the most attractive women I’ve ever seen.”

The words come as a bit of shock, not expecting Kate to think so highly of the woman you’d been spending the last weeks of lessons with. The raven-haired girl began to mumble on about how she should have taken Russian and how it was unfair how she always got the old, ugly professors. But in all honeslty you weren’t paying her much mind, instead focusing on the words that had spilled from Kate’s mouth previously. Sure, Professor Romanoff was a nice-looking woman, you’d noticed that the first time she’d walked into the room, but that didn’t mean you should be attracted to her. That was wrong, she was your teacher, she was married for god’s sake. You shouldn’t be thinking about her in that way. You weren’t thinking about her in that way. Sure, she made you blush every time she spoke to you, and her stare made a strange warmth pool in your stomach, but that didn’t mean you found her attractive. Right?

———

Term continued on with its usual snowballing effect. The next couple of weeks began to fill up with more and more work as you progressed further into the year. You and Kate spent many of your time outside of lessons bundled up in the library, spending hours revising for your upcoming midterms. The pair of you were also beginning to write your final dissertations, the main project that would lead to your graduation at the end of the year. You'd had your topic picked for months and had already started your research over the Summer, which left you room to help Kate find something she could write about, having struggled finding a topic she didn't find extremely boring.

Your usual meal time chatter turned away from mindless gossip and instead to lesson content, both of you complaining about how many assignments you had due. The carefree start of term was officially gone and the usual endless list of deadlines had crept back up on you just like it always did. Luckily for you, you'd managed to maintain the rigidness towards studying you'd possessed since doing your exams in secondary school. You could maintain focus for hours, staring at your laptop or notes until everything was photocopied into your mind. Sure, it sometimes meant you'd miss a meal or a few hours of sleep, but it was all worth it for the perfect grade you were determined to achieve in the end.

Your sessions with Professor Romanoff continued on over the next couple of weeks too, still just an hour after your final class on a Monday. You'd offered her more help if she'd needed it but the redhead had politely refused, claiming she didn't want you wasting your time when you had exams to study for. In fact, she told you that she'd only require your help for a few more weeks, just up until the midterm, then you were free to go with that easy 'A' tucked into your pocket. Surprisingly, when you heard the news, you found yourself feeling slightly saddened. Over the time you'd spent with Professor Romanoff, you'd rather enjoyed yourself. It wasn't that the work was particularly exhilarating or you two ever did much other than look at papers, but the small moments you'd been able to find in between had been rather pleasant. Whether it was the soft lull of the radio music that you both would hum along to, or the small conversations she'd have with you about your home or your studies, the time you spent with the redhead somehow always left you with a warmth in the pit of your stomach.

One particular rainy Monday afternoon, the pair of you were comfortably sat at her desk in your usual positions, your chair across the way from hers. As she often did, Romanoff typed away on her laptop, while you sat stapling together test papers for her advanced Russian class, having previously just photocopied the stack. The paper was still warm against your skin as you organised them into the correct order, the feeling almost soothing you into a trance-like state. You hadn't even noticed it at all until it was suddenly shattered by a soft sound echoing through the room.

Your head picked up, readjusting itself to the real world before turning to the right where the sound emanated from. The sight that befell upon you caused your brows to raise ever so slightly in surprise. As the door to the lecture hall swung closed, a tall, unfamiliar, but smartly-dressed woman entered through them. Her heels clicked confidently across the floor, eyes trained on your professor who sat at the desk. You watched as the redhead stood when the woman reached her, smiling softly. "Detka, hi." Romanoff placed a small kiss on the woman's cheek as they hugged briefly.

"I tried to call but it went straight to voicemail," the other woman replied. She stood a few inches taller than Professor Romanoff, her hair a lighter shade of red straightened almost perfectly down her back. She wore a deep copper suit with a crisp white shirt, a designer handbag thrown over one shoulder. In all honesty, you couldn't tell if she'd came straight from work or a catwalk. When her body turned to stand side by side with your professor, you noticed her eyes shimmered down at you with a soft olive green. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you would still have company."

At that, you noticed Professor Romanoff turn towards you, as if she had just remembered you were there. She smiled as she gestured to the taller woman. "Y/N, this is my wife, Wanda."

Right, wife. The idea she'd slipped a few weeks ago had almost left your mind entirely. Now that said woman was standing directly in front of you, looking down with an expression you couldn't quite read. "So you're the star pupil my wife has been telling me about, hm?"

Her voice was playful when she spoke, but at the same time low and almost sultry. Everything about it, including her words, left you stuttering over what to say. Had Professor Romanoff really been speaking about you to her wife?

"This is she," the redhead replied, covering for your inability to form a full sentence. She looked back at you with that same easy-going smile that seemed to make you shift in your seat.

Wanda passed you a similar expression as she inclined her head towards you, smirking just slightly. "Well then, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Thankfully, in that moment, your ability to speak seemed to return. "It's nice to meet you too, miss."

A small chuckle escaped the older woman's lips as you spoke. She glanced at Natasha, the pair sharing a look you couldn't interpret, before her sparkling eyes were back on you. "Oh please, honey. You can just call me Wanda." Just then you realised it wasn't only your professor's use of nicknames that seemed to send a shiver down your spine, Wanda's words setting your nerves on edge as you felt the heat flush to your cheeks. You looked down to your lap in an attempt to hide it, not wanting either woman to see your embarrassed state. From the corner of your eye, however, you saw Wanda wasn't going to let you hide that easily. She sat herself on the edge of the desk, leaning in closer to you and the stack of papers close by. "Working hard, are we?"

You looked back up to meet her eye, the action seemingly stripping away your speech once more. Thankfully, your professor stood up to answer for you. "Just getting some papers organised for my lesson tomorrow," she said, sitting herself down at her chair once more. Her eyes met her wife's. "Sorry, I didn't realise we'd run so late." Just then, you assumed why Wanda had shown up so unnanounced. Professor Romanoff had mentioned in passing that her wife would sometimes meet her after work, meaning that your sessions couldn't run any later even if she did need the extra help you offered.

"No, need to apologise," Wanda replied with an easy smile. "I don't mind sticking around while you guys finish up. Especially when your little assistant is so cute." Her eyes turned to you, a smirk playing on her lips. The entire action seemed to freeze you in place, entirely unsure of what to say or do.

"Cat gets her tongue sometimes."

Your eyes flicked to your professor as she spoke, a very similar smirk appearing on her face to match her wife sitting next to her. The taller redhead hummed lowly at her comment, her gaze tracing over you. Sat in that chair, you felt entirely too seen. Your eyes darted around, unsure of where exactly to look while the pair of older women watched you. If there was something you were supposed to say, you mind could not conjure it. In that moment all you could do was sit awkwardly as two pairs of green eyes traced your every movement.

But then, a familiar tune rang out to your rescue. When before you'd cursed your forgetfulness to turn off your ringer, now you silently thanked yourself. Your eyes rushed to your backpack, then quickly back to your professor and her wife. "I'm sorry," you stuttered out. "Could I?"

"Go on, milaya."

You tried your best to ignore your professor's comment as you reached into your backpack for your phone, quickly holding it up to your ear. To no surprise, it was a familiar voice singing a familiar tune. Still, you found the situation grateful for its diversion from the stalemate conversation you'd been stuck in beforehand. As you hung up the call a minute later, you turned back to the desk with a sheepish smile. "It's Kate, she's locked herself out again."

Professor Romanoff raised a perfect brow. "That really is a bad habit of hers, hm?"

You fought back a small chuckle at her words, surprised she even remembered you'd said that. "Yeah," you smiled back, then dropped it into a small frown. "I am so sorry-"

Before you could even finish your sentence, the redhead was holding up her hand to stop you. "Don't worry about it, milaya. You can run along. I'll catch you in class on Wednesday."

Your eyebrows raised, not wanting to be an inconvenience to her yet again. "You're sure? I can easily-"

"I said it's fine, Y/N," Romanoff reiterated, her voice coming out more stern. It wasn't quite angry, just firm, but it was enough to shut your mouth right up. You looked back, eyes wide, afraid that you'd annoyed her by leaving early twice due to your roommates negligence. But at your response, the redhead simply smiled down softly at you angling her head towards the door. "Go on. I can handle the rest."

You found your head nodding almost on its own accord, directed by not only your professor's watchful eye but now that of her wife's too. Your words came out little and few, a mumbled thank you and another apology spilling from your lips as you packed up your bag and threw it over your shoulders. One last reassurance and smile sent you walking out the door, headed back to your dorm where Kate would be waiting for you. As you went, you were hyper aware of the two sets of eyes trained on your back, picturing the two redheaded woman still sitting at the desk watching you walk away. What you weren't exactly aware of was how their gaze dropped even lower, both staring at the short black skirt you'd decided to wear that day, watching how the material grazed lightly against the back of your tight-covered thighs. When you exited out the door, you couldn't see the way the taller redhead turned back to her wife, looking down at her from where she still sat on the desk, a wide smirk appearing on her face as she bit into a perfectly painted lip. You couldn't see the way the pair looked at each other, leaning closer in, nor hear the words Wanda uttered back to her wife before their lips met in a kiss.

"You're right, she is cute. Let's keep her."

#inescapable love au #professor natasha romanoff #lawyer wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wandanat x reader #wanda x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #platonic kate bishop x reader

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vanteguccir · 3 months

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Disgusting food roulette | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N participates in the Disgusting Food Roulette video and ends up having to take care of Matt.

Warning: Feeling sick in the stomach.

Requested?: Yes, by anon.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"I really need to participate?" Y/N asked as she ran her eyes over the triplets. She had her hips resting on the table, where various types of food, sweets, and drinks were displayed.

"It'll be cool! And Matt needs the emotional support." Nick joked, lightly patting Matt's right shoulder, who was looking at the food with a disgusted look.

“It’s not like you won’t do well, Y/N.” Chris scoffed, crossing his arms, before looking at the camera. "She is the only person in the world who isn't fussy about any food. Anything you give her, she will eat it."

The girl rolled her eyes, letting out a laugh while shaking her head. It was true that she wasn't fussy about food, but that didn't hold back the shiver that ran up her spine every time she looked at some of the items on the table.

Raw egg? Easy cheese? She felt sick to her stomach just thinking about the taste of them against her tongue.

"As you can see, we have four separate piles of food here. Y/N didn't buy the food of her side since we decided she would participate when we were already at the grocery store." Matt explained while gesturing to the separated piles.

"Exactly, so we bought the food for her." Nick finished with a smirk on his face, arranging the items in a row.

"They put me in a mess, guys. I didn't even know what foods they would buy, now I regret even getting out of bed." Y/N grumbled miserably, helping the boys open all the product packaging.

Nick rolled his eyes at her drama, quickly explaining about the app they would use to choose who would go in turn.

"Let's begin!"

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Please, don't be me. Please, don't be me." Nick speaks repeatedly with a frown on his face, his right hand over his mouth while his left index finger pressed the screen of his phone.

Y/N let out a laugh at him, also pressing her finger on the screen, along with Chris and Matt. Matt's right arm was around her shoulder as he took deep breaths, trying to calm the strong, disgusting taste that was settling in his mouth.

The girl watched him momentarily from the corner of her eye, checking if he was well within the limit, feeling his hand squeezing her biceps lightly.

Chris's excited scream caught her attention abruptly, her eyes traveling to the screen. Her finger had been chosen to eat the yellow pepper.

She stared at the pepper for a few seconds, the triplets' laughter sounding like a background sound to her ears.

"Wait, isn't that the yellow pepper we use as seasoning?" Y/N asked, taking some steps away from Matt and the boys and finally picking up the food, twirling it between her fingers.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter, just eat it!" Nick pressed, looking at her expectantly.

Matt watched her closely, pressing his lips into a thin line, trying to contain his laughter, supporting his own weight against the table with his left arm.

The girl shrugged. If her theory was right, that was one of her favorite peppers. She brought her hand to her mouth and bit off a small piece, chewing carefully as she felt the taste and burn settle on her tongue.

"Um, not too strong. It's good." Y/N commented, still chewing, swallowing seconds later.

"You're crazy, entirely." Chris shook his head repeatedly, taking steps away from her as if she was mad.

Matt observed her with widened eyes, surprised by her little reaction.

"Put it there." Nick pointed to the counter next to the stove where they were piling up the food they had already eaten, his face showing a disgusting look. "Next!"

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"It's going to be Chris, I can feel it." Y/N muttered, her eyes fixed on the phone as their four index fingers pressed the screen.

The back of Matt's right shoulder was resting against her chest, while her free hand stroked his hair gently. She knew he was about to get sick, so she was trying to stay as close to him as possible.

"Oh no!" Chris shouted, bringing his right hand to his head in a sign of desperation after seeing the result.

"Yes!" Matt celebrated, turning around and hugging Y/N, jumping up and down in place. His sudden movements made her lose her balance, taking them both to the ground.

Y/N had her mouth open and eyes closed as laughter escaped her lips at her boyfriend's euphoria. She couldn't believe his happiness just because he wasn't chosen to eat the yogurt.

Matt screamed in celebration, hugging Y/N tightly. Nick told him to lower his voice due to the hour, but he was completely ignored.

"He is crazy." Chris commented, pointing to the two on the floor as he shook his head, letting out a laugh, momentarily forgetting what he had to eat.

Nick took the camera off the tripod, focusing the lens on the couple, capturing the perfect image of Y/N with her back against the cold floor and Matt with half his body over hers, his arms encircling her torso and his head buried in the curve of her neck, sounds of laughter echoing from there.

Fans would go crazy over that.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"No!" Matt screamed, his eyes wide and his mouth open. He had been chosen to eat the red pepper.

Y/N winced, her eyes going from her boyfriend to the pepper and back again. Before she could say anything encouraging, Matt picked up the food and bit off half of it.

"Matt! Are you crazy? This is very spicy. Spit it in the trash! Don't swallow it." Y/N yelled, her eyes wide. She put her hands on Matt's shoulders, guiding him to the trash can.

"Spit it out, Matt." Chris repeated, recording his brother's steps with the camera.

Y/N pressed the pedal to the trash can, opening the lid and patting her boyfriend's shoulder as he spat. She bit her lower lip in worry as she noticed his face start to turn red, his eyes filling with tears.

"Oh, baby. Breathe." She asked calmly, guiding him to the front of the table again, her hands resting on his waist, squeezing the covered skin lightly.

"Oh my God, it's so hot." Matt agonized, fanning his face with his right hand. "My lips-"

Chris and Nick laughed at his reaction, taking their fingers to the phone again, wanting to end the video quickly.

"Come on, guys!" Nick called, pushing Y/N's hips with his own - since she was closer to him -, getting her attention.

The girl took Matt's right hand and guided it to the phone, placing him index finger on the screen and then her own, keeping her eyes fixed on her boyfriend's face. Droplets of sweat started to appear on his forehead as his cheeks burned red, and Y/N was ready to get him out of there if necessary.

Chris was chosen next to eat the jelly, and Matt took advantage of the situation to walk around a little, wanting to alleviate the burning sensation in his mouth.

Y/N quickly followed him, helping him drink the water that was still in his hands, despite knowing it wouldn't help much.

"Do you want some milk, my love?" She asked quietly so the camera wouldn't catch it. Matt shook his head, feeling his stomach churn at the thought of adding milk to the horrendous mix of all the things he had eaten.

The boy seemed disoriented, his head hurt, and his tongue burned. He walked over to the refrigerator, pulling the door open and opening his mouth, momentarily exhaling in the cold air, before closing it again.

"Come, love." Y/N pulled him closer to the phone again, intertwining their free hands and squeezing his fingers with her own lightly.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Are you okay?" Chris asked, approaching and touching Matt's shoulder. His words sounded worried, even though he was still laughing.

Matt nodded as he drew in puffs of air through his open mouth, a multi-layered piece of colby-jack cheese pressed to his right cheek. Y/N watched him from the side, feeling helpless.

"It's not helping." He shouted, leaning on Nick momentarily and blinking his eyes repeatedly, watching Y/N eat the second to last content.

His heart raced when it was the app's turn to choose who would eat the last item, the raw egg.

"If Matt's chosen, I'll eat for him." Y/N quickly imposed, pressing her finger on the screen and staring intently at it.

"This is not how it works." Chris muttered, bumping his shoulder against hers playfully.

"Fuck the rules." She shrugged, sighing in relief when she saw the app choose Nick.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Matt, what was the worst that you ate?" Chris asked, bringing the camera closer to Matt, who was opening the fridge.

The boy ignored him, leaning forward slightly and bringing his mouth under the water filter, taking long sips. Y/N let out a low laugh as she saw Chris frown at not receiving any response, rubbing her boyfriend's back softly.

Matt closed the fridge doors, taking some steps back and resting his arms on the table as he took a deep breath, feeling all the food rise up his throat. He swallowed hard, straightning up and looking at Chris behind the camera, his own eyes filling with tears.

"I'm going to bed." His voice was broken. He turned and walked quickly to his shared room with Y/N, receiving a light slap on the back from Nick.

"Okay, he's going to bed."

Y/N let out a nasal laugh, shaking her head. She quickly walked to the cupboard next to the stove, taking a glass. She opened the fridge, taking a bottle of ice cold water and pouring some milk into the glass, closing the door with her hip.

"I'll take care of him." She told the boys, blowing an air kiss to the lens before walking to their bedroom, balancing the items in her hands, Nick and Chris' voices speaking with the camera falling behind.

The girl turned the door handle with her elbow, slowly entering the room and closing it again behind her back.

Her eyes traveled around momentarily, the lights were off, making it difficult to see anything. She squinted her eyes and quickly found her boy laying on the bed in a fetal position, approaching him in slow steps.

Y/N placed the milk and water on the bedside table and squatted down, resting her arms on the mattress. She brought her right hand to Matt's hair, gently brushing the loose strands out of his eyes. Her fingers caressing his warm skin.

"Honey? What are you feeling?" She asked in a low tone, not wanting to heighten her boyfriend's senses. Her heart sank at the way Matt seemed to be in discomfort, his eyes were closed tightly and his brow was furrowed, his shoulders tense.

"Stomach pain. My tongue is still burning and I'm hot on the insides and cold on the outside." The boy explained, his voice sounding weak followed by him sniffling.

"Come here, baby. Let me help you." Y/N asked gently, standing up from her crouched position and helping Matt sit up slowly.

Her hands grabbed the hem of the black t-shirt that covered his torso, pulling it up slowly, helping him take it off his arms and head, placing it aside on the mattress to fold later.

Y/N quickly grabbed the air conditioning remote that was next to the items she brought, turning it on and setting it to 18°C. Not so cold, but refreshing.

She put the remote back in place and picked up the milk, sitting on the edge of the bed and raising the glass so Matt could see what it was, receiving a whine in response.

"I know it might seem gross to drink milk after everything you've eaten, but it will help lessen the burn from the pepper, baby." Y/N spoke calmly, bringing the glass closer to Matt's face. "You ate a large amount. If we don't alleviate it now, this burning sensation will continue for several hours, sweetheart."

The boy sighed before wrapping both of his hands around Y/N's, who was still holding the glass for fear of Matt dropping it since his hands were shaking. He took it to his lips and closed his eyes tightly, tilting the glass and taking a small sip.

Y/N encouraged him with small whispers, pushing his hair back with her free hand, freeing his forehead from the heat of his strands.

Matt put the glass down after a few sips, pushing it closer to her, showing that he didn't want any more. He removed his hands from around Y/N's, allowing her to put it down.

The girl placed it on the bedside table again, watching her boyfriend's reactions.

"Do you think you're going to throw up? Or are you okay, and it's just the burning?"

"No, I'm not going to throw up, I just want to sleep." The boy responded weakly, lowering his torso onto the bed again, feeling the duvet pressing against his back. He turned onto his side, pressing his right hand to his exposed stomach. "Come lie down with me, please."

"I will, my love. Just let me take this glass to the kitchen, and I'll be right back." Her tone was low.

She leaned her body over his, sealing his cold forehead with her warm lips for a few seconds before pulling away and rising from the bed. She took the glass again, pushing the water bottle closer to the bed before taking steps towards the exit.

"I love you." She heard Matt whisper before closing the door behind her. A huge smile decorated her face as she felt her heart race.

She would do anything to make him feel better and Matt knew that.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Extra - comments:

"I seriously thought Matt would throw up everything 😭"

"omg Matt is CRAZY for eating half of a red pepper without a second thought 🤡"

"Y/N worrying about Matt is so cute 🥺"

"the way Y/N kept looking at Matt all the time, making sure he was okay 😔 I love them so much"

"Matt almost dying, Y/N worried sick and Chris and Nick laughing until their next generation was the best thing I saw today"

"Matt and Y/N on the floor laughing their asses off is my new romain empire 🧎‍♀️"

"Matt saying 'I'm going to bed' after a traumatic experience is totally me for real"

"can we take a minute to appreciate Y/N eating the yellow pepper like it was chocolate? WHAT A WOMAN GUYS!!!! 🤤"

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

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moonit3 · 7 months

Text

A LOYAL BUTLER pt. 2

➥ warnings/notices: yandere, nsfw, cunnilingus, handjob, blowjob, afab! reader, male! yandere, dom! reader, sub! yandere, kissing, dry humping, non penetration but smut, I don’t how to write moans so bare with me, implied overstimulation.

➥ synopsis: a party leads to an unexpected moment for you and elliot that makes the relationship even more intimate.

➥ yandere! butler x f! reader

➥ a/n: with the help and guidance of @taeee0902 , im bringing the second part of the story that many of you have been waiting for! keep in minds this is probably the now longest piece of the blog for now, also the most long smut ive write before \(//∇//)\ so im hoping to all of you enjoy this piece as i loved writing this one! also, this is part two of this post! so check it out for some context.

➥ it’s been a few weeks since you and elliot got closer than ever. letting his hands and lips going over your body during working hours, making you feel relieved after long days of paperwork and making you feel so much pleasure from his hands alone. to think he is doing it almost daily is insane, specially when it’s risky to be caught. one time, elliot touched you in the library, despite knowing there were servants around.

➥ the occasions when he isn’t touching nor speaking dirty things to your ears, elliot still helps with your family’s finances. despite being your lover behind the curtains, he still needs to be a presentable man to keep his job as your personal butler, but also to prevent anyone from finding it out the relationship you two share. elliot knows how many people wants to steal you away from him.

➥ “you are mine, [name]…” his hands holds your waist down to the bed, preventing you from escaping his touch as he teases your entrance. the lovely sounds coming out from your lips and seeing how your eyes are rolling back makes him smile. “none can see you like this but me, do you understand me?” the only thing you could do is nodded, too busy to speak when his fingers entered your hole and too much concentrated to not moan loudly, too focused to not moan out loud of this situation.

➥ and his touchy attitude got more intense with the invitation from an old friend of your late father. a gala where many nobles will celebrate the birth of the new addition of the duke’s family, not a big deal though. however when the party started, noblemen got all over you, asking for your hand and shameless flirting with you, not caring it’s that is against the queen’s words.

➥ i should’ve stayed home…that you keep thinking by every time one of those old men gets closer to you, offering you to become their second or third wife. you can’t believe men like this exist, how can they be this stupid? thankfully, elliot is here to help.

➥ his expressionless face and sharp words were enough to make those men step away from you. because of that, many nobles began to believe that he is the voice of reason of the barony, a harsh and cruel butler who has to help the inexperienced baroness who inherited a large territory, but they don’t know the true, none of them really does.

➥ when it’s the time to leave the party, you decided to go to the bathroom and elliot took the opportunity to arrange the carriage. you give your best at smiling at those nobles for hours and hours, so that’s the barely minimum he can do for you. he was ready to enter the carriage to wait for you, but suddenly a maid calls for his name, one that he recognizes to be working for the party’s host.

➥ despite telling her name, elliot’s mind fail to remember as she talks and talks even more about her admiration for him. it’s an innocent crush, elliot can tell that by how her cheeks gets reds when he pretends to pay attention and how she can’t hold her voice low whatever she speaks about her current hobbies. situations like this are normal, everyone gets a crush on someone else, but this girl is getting off the hook. trying to touch his gloved hand and taking steps to be closer to him, this girl is surely bold or stupid enough to not know her place.

➥ he was ready to yell, maybe making a scene to scold her behavior, but nothing happened as you returned. with a smile on the lips, you make your way to stand next to elliot and dismiss the maid. the tone of your voice is shape and cold, completely opposite of your usual manner. it was efficient and the maid quickly left the scene, but not before staring at you with hateful eyes.

“my lady,” he is relieved by your arrival, things could’ve been different if you hadn’t arrived in time. “thank you for helping me with that maid.”

the sweet smile on your lips calm him down, “no problem, elliot. its my duty to assure that my closest friend feel uncomfortable.” is that so? your hands goes to his and you get closer to whisper your next words, “before we leave, i need to show you something. follow me~”

and he obeyed you. step by step, elliot walked behind you for a path that he didn’t visit earlier of the duke’s manor as he was too occupied by staying at your side during the party, however you seems familiar with this part of the mansion. have you visited here before? perhaps. after all, every noble knows each other from either arranged marriages or business relationships.

it took a few more minutes til you arrive at the place you wanted to show elliot, a library, where the only living souls around are you and him. the door is closed when he enters after you, there is something around that you want to show him? maybe an ancient book, money or could it be something else?

“elliot.” turning to face you, elliot is surprised by your hands pushing him to sit down an dusty empty armchair. slowly, you began unzipping the back of your dress, revealing the black bra and panties that you are wearing underneath it. what are you doing? this is unladylike of a noblewoman! but why isn’t he stopping you? “is this alright with you?”

he nodded, too busy to talk by the moment your hands hold his face closer to your. feeling your breath to his skin makes the entire world pause for an instant and the soft of your lips on his makes elliot feel the luckiest man to ever exist. the kiss was meant to last seconds, but elliot didn’t want to let go of this magnificent moment, so he pulled you closer with his own hands and kissed you for longer.

it’s a little weird to know that had touched you before in numerous occasions, but it’s just now that you shared a kiss with him, one that left a line of saliva when the two of finally separated. cheeks red and completely breathless, those are the words that describe you and elliot in this situation.

“a-are you—“ you interrupted him with another kiss, but it didn’t last long as elliot pushed you away. “we shouldn’t do this—it’s wrong and unacceptable to a noble lady kiss her servant.”

“really? off all the things we did before, you consider a kiss to be more blasphemy than those times you were in middle of my legs?” a laugh escapes from your lips, trying to minimize the awkward of this situation. “besides, i know you want this too, to take things just a little more further between the two of us.”

the embarrassment of elliot’s face faded with your words. “you want me?” the thought of alone makes him wonder for long you have planned this.

“of course i want you, elliot.” you kissed his neck, dirtying a small part of his white long shirt and smiling at his face. “but i will understand if you wish to pretend this never happened—“

“NO!” he holds your hips closer to his, not daring to let you escape from his grab nor getting up from his lap. “i want this. i want you, [name]…so please, continue to touch me as you wish, my lady.”

“then, i will begin.” you smiled.

with his hands on your hips, elliot guide you to move forward and back on his lap. soft moans comes from his mouth by every time you rub your intimate part closer to his buldge, it’s a new sensation for the butler, one that is making his body feel so good.

your hands on his shoulder makes him smile, this isn’t a dream, this is real and feeling your soft finger touching him is a reminder this whole experience is reality and he won’t ever change this for anything, not even for a fancy title.

elliot can feel that he is close. the moans turned into whimpers and whines speaking your name when his grip is getting weaker, his eyes are full of tears of pure pleasure. he wants to hold it, too make this moment last longer, but he failed to do so.

“ahhhh……mmm~!” one of your hands went to his lips, preventing elliot from moaning out loud to the entire manor, but that didn’t stop him from dirtying his brief and pants. its stick, you can feel as you get up from his lap and it’s visible if anyone pays closer attention. also the look on his face doesn’t help much either. “…[name]…”

things was supposed to end there, at least, that was elliot thought before you kneeling in front of him. before having you unzipped his pants, removing his briefs to take his cock into your hands. he couldn’t say a words, not when his own voice was betraying him by only letting the library’s wall listen to his stuffy moans.

the tears coming from his eye block mostly of his vision, only letting elliot see your blurry hands touching his cock and feeling your tongue licking the head of his member. wait. are you going to do what is he thinking? your lips gets closer to his shaft and then take as much as possible of him inside your mouth.

“ah…” elliot groans, the hand that isn’t preventing the moan from escaping goes to your head, guiding you to take just a little more of him. “hmmmm~”

the base of his cock is getting stoke with your non-dominant hand while the other one is holding his thighs from closing whatever elliot whimpers. your tongue can already taste the precum coming from the tip and he is already telling you to stop, saying that you shouldn’t drink it, that is dirty to a lady like to do it, but you don’t hear him.

and for a last time tonight, elliot whimpers as he finally came over and in return, you take it all inside your mouth. not a single drop escape from your lips as you smiled after drinking it all, impressing elliot in the process.

“elliot~” you still between his legs, holding his still hard cock in your hands. “are your ready for another round?”

“y-yes, [name].” he stuttered.

hiding behind one of the many pillars of the manor, a maid stares at the library’s door, waiting for two people to step out and to caught them for staying after the party was finished.

“my lord won’t like this at all.” a smile crept into her lips, already imagining the many scenarios of the baroness and her butler getting scolded and gaining some extra money for it. “and i might get a chance with that guy afterwards.”

the maid stood there for at least an hour or so before the door finally opened, revealing the two individuals she was hoping to see, but instead of calling their attention or some knight to scolded them, her body freeze by what she notice of them.

lipstick marks on the butler’s neck, a tiny drop of white fluids on the noble woman lips and what made her too stunned to speak…they are holding hands! a member of the high society being touchy with a mere commoner, isn’t that wrong? she was supposed to say something or at least call someone to shame them in the public eyes, but she just stood still, watching the two walking away to the entrance.

the baroness and her butler smiled to each other when stepping out of the duke’s manor, happily to their relationship getting more intimate and to the maid who was too scared to do something against them.

@moonit3 writings

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anatay004 · 5 months

Text

THERE WAS A TANG of venom in your mouth. You could taste it, the bitter crimson that seeped through your teeth as you chewed on the inside of your cheeks. You tried to keep your head from aching, perhaps, if you shut your eyelids for a moment — just for a second, you thought you might actually escape him.

"Ms. (Y/N), how wonderful it is to see you again," Snow spoke from across the desk, his voice was quiet but vehement— it almost made you shiver. "Please, take a seat."

Nauseously, you sat across from him.

The study ensued with a straining silence that made the skin of your arms prick with uneasiness. Snow had bothered to travel across the districts to visit your home; it could only mean one of two things: either you were in trouble or he wanted something from you.

"I won't take much of your time, Ms. (Y/L), as long as we agree to not lie to each other, this will be a short conversation, I can assure you."

I'm definitely in trouble, you thought.

"Of course." You managed to answer.

Up close, you could see the lines of evident age that marred his face. How long, you wondered, until time peels the skin off his bones clean?

"Katniss Everdeen," Snow venomously spat, and you couldn't help, but give him your full attention. "Do you recall the name?"

The new Victor from District 12.

The threat of rebellion.

"I do." You limited yourself to answer.

"Good," Snow breathed out. "You see, she is causing me quite a few problems. None of which are tethered to you, of course, but they eventually will. Unlike you, Ms. (Y/N), she dismisses the cause of the Hunger Games, the mercy that we offer by keeping one of the 24 tributes alive. She's challenging, I’m afraid."

Unlike you.

You wanted to dart him a glare; his words were a backhanded compliment. When you killed your partner in the games — your friend, you involuntarily enlightened a sense of honor in the Capitol. Your disoriented conscious due to the venom of one of the jellyfish in the arena eulogized Snow's message: there are no real allies and no true loyalty between the districts.

This was far from the truth, of course.

You never meant to win the games by killing your ally from the same district. When the dam's collapsed and the waves of water drowned almost everyone in the arena, you'd managed to swim back to the surface. But the lack of oxygen and poison from the jellyfishes had already interfered with your sanity. And when he'd rushed to help you back to your feet, you'd confused him for a Career. It was only a matter of minutes before the cannon boomed.

Your eyes glossed at the memory.

"With that being said, she, alongside Peeta Mellark, will try to seek refugee in their act of love to gain sponsors and win the games again.”

Your eyebrows knitted together.

Again?

"I want you to dissipate that advantage, Ms. (Y/M)." He must have read your expression. "I want you and Finnick Odair to annihilate their strategy by doing exactly the same thing."

You blinked in sudden disbelief.

He wanted you back in the Hunger Games. He wanted you back with Finnick Odair, with the only person he probably knew you cared the most about. You tried to quench the searing pain that was burning inside your chest. The air started to rush out your lungs, but you managed to compose yourself in time as Snow tilted his head to the side to examine you quietly.

"There's nothing between – " You tried to come up with an excuse, with anything that could've eliminated Finnick from this plan, but he raised an eyebrow in silent question and the words froze immediately on the tip of your tongue.

"We agreed to not lie, Ms. (Y/M)."

You pressed your lips together. "Right."

He stifled a faint grin. "You are the Capitol's favorites, the most beloved Victors. Even more than Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark."

You didn't know what to answer. His plan was already arranged, there was nothing you could say that could make him change his mind. If anything, he was merely being considerate by taking the trouble of giving you a heads-up.

"Finnick and I haven't spoken in weeks." You breathed out, which wasn't a lie. After years of breaking up and getting back together, the romance eventually ended when you discovered the sexual arrangements that had happened behind your back for years. When Finnick had decided to finally shut you out his life after he’d explained his backstory and decided you were not good together.

The slight curve of Snow's lips indicated that he knew this already — of course, he did.

"I know," Snow confessed. "but the people from the Capital don't, Ms. (Y/N). Therefore, you have an advantage at hand, you can fool everyone, make the Capital forget about the lovers from District 12, and...you will have my protection."

You looked up then and examined his face very carefully. There wasn't a hint of deception in his expression, he was being honest and that scared you the most. He promised your safety; he promised your victory.

"What about Finnick?" You found yourself asking, without even thinking.

He smiled. "You see, you almost got me fooled, Ms. (Y/LN). Imagine just how easy it would be to fool the Capitol if you could just step forward.”

You swallowed hard.

"But to answer your question, Ms. (Y/L), Mr. Odair will be protected if he succeeds in convincing me. And, who knows, if you achieve to sell your romance act, the Capitol might even advocate for two winners again. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

He was lying.

He had to be.

Hope retaliated in the pit of your stomach. "I thought we had agreed to not lie to each other."

His eyebrows jumped. "So did I."

After the conversation ended, President Snow stepped out of your home without another word as a fugitive car approached your home. Within a few minutes, he swiftly disappeared into the leather backseat and the vehicle drove off.

You tried to keep your head from reeling, but your muscles momentarily numbed as you simply stood outside, inhaling the ocean's breath. You couldn't coherent a single sentence, for a moment, you even struggled to pinpoint whether the conversation with Snow had been real or not.

What would Finnick think?

What would anyone think?

You exhaled sharply, but before you could collect yourself, Finnick's frame stumbled into your line of vision from across the Victor's Village. You faltered on your spot almost immediately, muscles wracked with evident tension — and he must've noticed, because trepidation soon glossed over his green irises.

As if he'd suddenly realized who had visited you.

"(Y/N)!" He began to call.

Instinctively, you began to retrace back your steps inside your house (in hopes to avoid him), but he was faster and twisted the polished handle before the door could even shut close behind you. You jumped in shock, a startled expression donned on your face as he invited himself in. "What happened?"

Your mouth went dry. "I..."

"— Did he hurt you?" His voice went up a few decibels, and you struggled to find the strength to open your mouth. "(Y/L), did he hurt you?"

You managed to shake your head. "No, he..."

Finnick reached for your arm. His muscles were tense, but his touch was gentle and you instinctively leaned in. "He's going to reaped us into the games, he wants us to follow the love act that Katniss and Peeta pulled."

His eyebrows knitted together in thought. "What?" He breathed out, trying to decipher the mixture of emotions that flitted across your face in a matter of seconds. Every sentiment that threatened to register on your face before Snow was finally shattering before Finnick.

"He wants to kill them off," You found yourself repeating, a hint of desperation notched down the timbre of your voice. "He wants us to take their sponsors, but he said he would protect us, Finnick. He promised he would and I – "

A sob strangled your throat, for a split second, you couldn't manage another word. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to the side of your head. You immediately indulged in his warmth and your senses immediately heighten at the whiff of his scent. Belatedly, you realized it had been a while since he’d last embraced you. And it wasn't until he was rubbing your back and whispering that everything was going to be okay when you finally noticed that you were trembling.

"It's going to be okay, love." He whispered.

Love.

And then it finally clicked.

What he’d done to you.

You wrenched away from him as though his skin had suddenly torched you. You took several steps back as you tried to muffle the sob that was ripping through your lips. Finnick faltered for a second as he tried to find the right words to remedy the hurt that you felt, but when he noticed the familiar betrayal in your gaze — he pressed his lips into a thin line.

He didn't know what to say anymore.

"I need to get some sleep."

"Sweetheart, wait — "

"Goodnight, Finnick."

And with that, you turned your back to him.

#fanfic #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader #the hunger games #finnick odair imagine #coriolanus x you #finnick x you #finnick x y/n #hunger games finnick

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arthenaa · 5 months

Text

my love mine all mine— mizu x f! reader

synopsis: marriage is nigh for someone your age and with society's expectations of you, how long will you have to keep waiting for him?

content: 18+ nsfw, mdni, angst w comfort, fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, he/she pronouns for mizu, patriarchal views on women, arranged marriage, jealousy, use of sex toys, idiots in love

a/n: part 2 of nocturne (interlude)!! this is for that anon who was on their finals week (ur req got deleted i h8 tumblr) and to those who requested for a part 2 !!! a reward for your hard work

Your relationship with Mizu was ... interesting.

After what happened that day, your relationship progressed into a deeper sense of connection. He was attracted to you as much as you were attracted to him. A fact that made your fingers tingle with anticipation every time he came down to your village under the guise of getting more medicine.

Your father had no complaints as business is business and provided him with what he needed, although you could see the occassional side eyes that your father gives him every time he stays longer than he was supposed to be. It was a comical sight indeed.

Mizu helped you out as much as he could—whether it be mundane house chores or taxing ones that require hard labor or a change of locations, he was down to accompany you in any way.

While yes, his efforts of providing you aid sent a surge of butterflies down your stomach, what ultimately led you to hammering a nail in the coffin was the subtle touches that he gave you.

You knew he knew and he knew that he was being smug about it. While it didn't show on his face, his eyes told it all. Whether it be passing by and gently placing a hand on the small of your back to excuse himself out of your way as if there wasn't a 2-meter space to your right or the brushing of fingers when he lent you something or if he's being bold enough, especially when your father's not looking, outright pretending that there was a fabric stuck on your hairpin and so he leans in close to you only to place a kiss on your cheek—he always has to have some sort of skinship with you during the day. It often left you struggling for words or having a flushed face.

"Dear," Your father furrows his eyebrows as he eyes your flushed cheeks. You tense in his gaze as he glances at Mizu who appears calm as he takes a sip of his drink. The blue-eyed samurai had done it again—saw an opening and took it like he was meant for it. He fooled you into thinking that your hair was out of place and offered to fix it. Your father had stepped out to get the food and you had hoped that he stayed somehow so that you wouldn't have to deal with all this bullcrap. Mizu took the chance to grab your chin and place a kiss on your lips. Your father came back shortly and you haven't relaxed since. "You don't look alright. Do you want me to—?"

"I-It's fine, Dad!" You intercept, hands raised as you shake no. "The soup was just... hot."

You glance at Mizu who looks at you from the side of his eye. He smirks over his cup.

It was safe to say that Mizu was also mischievous by nature. Despite his usual calm and cool demeanor, you didn't expect the man before you to be quite playful when it came to just between the two of you.

You did all these things, said all those things, looked at each other with things unspoken of and you're quite sure that your relationship was susceptible to the one thing you're quite sure would lead to.

Marriage.

A want for some, a necessity for many. You'd think that in your years of living in this town that you'd find a partner suitable for marriage and you did! Just a little bit later than others.

You had expected that... Mizu would propose. After all, what comes after dating but marriage? Your father and mother did that, your aunts, uncles, cousins, hell, even your friends already got married albeit some of them out of their own will.

You dreamed of having a true love marriage. One that you could be yourself and never have to be ashamed of loving someone despite their stature in life. One that you could coexist with and that could never demean your existence as a woman. You knew those things were far fetched from reality but everyone wishes to dream right?

You had tried discreetly asking about it, curious as to why he barely mentions anything but he only casts you an unreadable look on his face then a soft smile.

He kissed the back of your hand with a gentle touch, softness mirroring that of a snowflake's descent.

"... I can't," He says. You're not sure as to why he sounded in pain, like something was troubling him but you knew better than to pry. "Not right now."

So you let it go.

It was times like this that you felt the other half of the relationship. Like there was still a barrier you couldn't decipher between you. Why he often looks secretive with your father at times or why he falls silent at the most random of moments. There was something you didn't know and it often aches you that you couldn't be able to understand him unless you knew the inner workings of his mind.

The first instance that brought up the onslaught of problems that would soon arise was the arrival of a proposal from the south. It came in the form of a letter, writings neatly imprinted on fine parchment—rolled with the delicacy that of a noble.

You could see your father's nervous glance as the messenger read what was sent to him. You could hear bits and pieces of the arrangement, hands wringing each other in anxiety as your eyes trained on your father's back. Mizu had not arrived that day and normally, you would fret over such things but your father casts a glance at you over his shoulder and suddenly everything seems to have changed its course.

"Father," You pant as you gather the ends of your kimono, trying to match the pace of your patriarch as he travels all over the house. He seems to not be at rest from the talk with the messenger—a perpetual stone-cold look plastered on his face. "Father!"

He enters the part of your house you haven't gone to in ages. Not because you despised it but because you were afraid that the spirit that once dwelled in its abode would arise and look at you with those same eyes that once held all the love and memories when you were but a wee girl. You hesitate at the entrance but decide to follow him through.

"Not right now, Y/N," He mumbles, agitated as he crouches over a chest and begins digging through the array of clothes. Your eyebrows furrow.

"What—What did he say?" You stammer as you stand to his left, eyes watching his every move as he frantically rummages through the fabrics. "Father, I have—I need to know."

Your father pauses, defeatedly slumping against the chest as his fingers tap against the wooden surface in thought. Silence ensues between the two of you and suddenly he turns to you with a sympathetic look on his face. Your blood runs cold.

"Lord Shimizu—" He pauses, catching himself stammering as he looked into those eyes that were fruition of shared dreams and a love he hasn't forgotten in ages. "He asked for your hand in marriage."

You stare at him with a shaky gaze, breath going in and out as you tried to process his response.

"Then-Then tell him no," Your eyebrows furrow. Your father falls silent at your words. "Tell him like you've always told the others."

"I can't, Y/N," He whispers, tone shifting into despair. Your shoulders are low as he lowers his head in shame.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't," He emphasizes his words once more, eyes darting up to meet yours. "I have always tried to protect you but I can't this time."

Your face falls in desperation as you kneel down with him. You grab his hands in an attempt to convince him once more.

"Father, please, I can't—I don't even know him!" You plead as your grip on his callous fingers tightens. He looks at you with sadness. "Please Father, I'll do anything, just don't—"

"Y/N," He cuts you off with a stern voice. You fall silent as you wait for his response. "This man is from Kyoto. While the men here fear my stature as a medic, this man has access to professionals far greater than me. He doesn't regard me as someone important and if I dare raise my voice, we might as well be dead."

Your figure tenses at his words. He grabs your arms in an attempt to comfort you. In a last attempt to get him to decline the offer, you say the thoughts that have been at the forefront of your mind.

"I'm in love with Mizu," Your voice comes out in a whisper, eyes wide and tears welling up. He tenses at your confession, eyebrows furrowing at the implications.

"You—"

"Father, I love him." Your voice comes out in a desperate attempt to get him to see you. Your hands raise to touch his arm but he suddenly raises to his feet, taking a few steps back. Your heart speeds up at his reaction.

"Is that why he—?" Your father whispers out in thought. You're not sure if he was angry or disappointed, but you're quite sure that this was a bad thing. His face contorts into a look of anger as he continues to look at you with a hardened gaze. "When was this?"

"You told me you wanted me to have a true love marriage, Father—This is it!" You look up at him with a defiance so strong that it almost gives your father a whiplash of how similar it looked. He falters in his stance but remains rooted to his cause.

"I know but not to—!" He catches himself at the end of his sentence. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. He runs a hand through his face before sighing. "Not like this. Not to him. Not Mizu, Y/N."

Your eyebrows furrow in anger at his words. "You can't dictate what I feel for him."

There's a moment of silence as your father casts you an unreadable look on his face. You thought that your father might approve of Mizu. They after all started at the same steps and eventually grew to the path they were destined for, albeit in different fields. You're not quite sure as to what led to this defiance against your choice for marriage but it already has you intruiged.

"The messenger talks of praises of Lord Shimizu," Your father diverts the conversation. "I also hear that he is a general and part of the Emperor's Kingsguard. He is of noble stature and earned his keep. He is a man fitting of your deserving."

You fall silent at his words before finally rising to your height and dusting off your kimono. You glance at the chest, eyeing the white fabric that pops out of an array of multicolored ones. You turn back to your father.

"You raised me to not be a hypocrite," Your voice is stone cold. Your father flinches at the tone. "I expected you to not be one as well."

With that you left.

The days were grueling.

Presents after presents were sent to your doorstep and while you wish that you could throw them all away, your father accepted them and kept them in the storage, still neatly wrapped for you to open.

Mizu had also arrived less and less over the past couple of days. He usually stays for more than an hour but now he leaves within the 30-minute mark. You felt like your time had been severed into bits and pieces after your fight with your father. You saw them talking, hushed in the receiving area. You expected your father to berate him for influencing his own daughter but their relationship remained civil. In fact, after his talk with your father was what prompted fewer visits and only coming for business.

He also became distant. Little to no skinship—sometimes even none at all. He talks to you in that cold tone of his and even grunts in annoyance when you try to bother him into coming with you to window shop in town.

You thought they were being unfair. That they could freely do things like this beyond your knowledge. Watch you crumble into a pit of despair at the concept of what you believed was the essence of true love. How naïve were you.

The final straw came when Mizu stayed a little bit longer than usual. He was swift with his purchase but remained seated at the tree located just outside your humble abode.

You approached him with soft steps, eyes trained on his head devoid of his kasa and the usual orange tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome.

"Why are you like this?" Your voice cuts through the silence, direct and swift as a breeze passes through you. You see the familiar curl on his forehead, swishing back and forth before settling down.

Mizu does not reply for a few seconds before finally responding. "Like what?"

Your breath shakes at his nonchalance. "Like everything's back from the start."

Mizu pauses before turning his head to look at you standing behind him. There's a long duration of silence between you, eyes only locked with each other as the breeze fills in the void.

"Y/N," Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. You will yourself not to fold. "I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?"

He rises up from his seat on the ground, grabbing his Kasa in the process. He examines the item, eyeing the material woven intricately to form its shape. You could tell that there were a lot of things in his mind. You could only wait until he decided to break down the walls he built up so high.

"I didn't mean it to be this way." He finally looks at you in the eye, those beautiful shades of blue hidden by a tint of orange. He pauses himself before a change of expression is plastered on his face. "I think it's best if we stop here."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

"I said what I said," He mutters in that neutral tone of his, devoid of emotion. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I... I am on a journey and I have wishes to accomplish. I operate on circumstances that prove to be unlawful. It's best that you don't associate yourself with me. I was too distracted to begin with."

Distracted? Is that what he thought all of this was about? Your hands shake in anger as your eyes darted any sort of giveaway that he might just be joking with you. The world was pinning its blame on your shoulders and now you have to receive the consequences of its actions.

You purse your lips, stopping yourself from bawling then and there. You can't give him the satisfaction of seeing yourself in a mess. You refuse.

You turn around without responding, making hasty steps towards your home before halting once more. You turn to see him putting on his Kasa, eyes in a daze. Upon feeling your stare at him, he turns back towards you. His gaze falters.

"I'm sorry." He says.

You could never will out the words you should've said.

Lord Shimizu came on the 3rd day of the week. He wasn't what you expected him to be.

Naturally, nobles of that standing would appear to be egocentric maniacs who dabbled and flaunted their wealth in various entertainment establishments. They act crass and speak crass as if their authority gives them the pass to be an asshole to everybody.

You thought to yourself, this man could have anybody that he wanted. He was a general, a skilled warrior, and a candidate for marriage to Japan's array of elegant and noble women. Why would he pick a humble medic's daughter all the way from Takayama?

Well, the answer finally came to you in flesh instead.

"L-Lord Shimizu!" Your father stammers over his words as a young man, your age enters the establishment. You take a step back towards the panel of the receiving area, slightly shielding yourself from the onslaught of 3-4 men entering the place. "I didn't expect you to be here."

The man does not respond yet, his eyes wander the interior of the establishment before finally settling on you. You flinch back at the intensity of his stare. Your father notices his attention on you before clearing his throat.

"Y/N?" He calls over, eyes meeting with yours as he beckons you over. You grumble under your breath before making hesitant steps to your father's side. "Ah yes, this is Y/N Gojo. My daughter. Y/N, this is Lord Shimizu Kaito."

Your eyes peer up at him underneath your lashes, trying to take a peek at his face. Shimizu flashes you a soft smile before bowing in greeting.

"Apologies for not having been able to meet before. The Emperor had requested me to attend to several cases in various cities. I hope that you and Y/N can forgive my tardy appearance." His voice is proper and elegant but you could only scoff at his words. Apparently, it was loud enough for him, your father, and the two other guards stationed behind him to hear. Your father elbows your waist.

"Apologies for my daughter," He sheepishly smiles. "She seems to have a... cold."

He eyes you with a strict look on his face which you turn to look away at. Just as you wished for all of this to be over, a wave of a hand catches your attention. You turn to look at Shimizu who softly smiles at you once more.

"I know this proposal is sudden but I hope you can give me a chance." He says, voice and tone genuine. You hesitantly purse your lips at his words. "I'll be staying around this time. I hope I can get to know you."

Lord Shimizu stayed true to his word. The past few days were nothing but him trying to get to know you as an individual. He was nice, accommodating, and even dare say, a proper friend you could talk to.

He helped you out in chores, got you gifts, had tea with you, learned your ways, and walked with you in town. If you were the person you were before, you could've deemed this man the perfect match for you.

While you appreciated his eagerness in wanting to get to know you, you also can't help but be reminded of a certain blue-eyed boy every time he did something remotely similar. He talks of his travels, his blade, his peers, his interests, and you're brought back to the time Mizu let you hold his blade in your palms, brought you trinkets from his previous adventure, talked to you about his annoying apprentice, or that he prefers his soba to have a little bit more soup in ratio to his noodles.

Everything remind you of him.

Mizu had not visited in a while. You tried asking about him to your father if he ever came to get medicine but your father denies every question.

Sometimes you catch glimpses of a familiar Kasa roaming the town streets but is only mistaken by a wandering traveler. You're not too sure how long it would take for you to lose your wits about everything.

Sensing the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind, Shimizu offered for you both to take a stroll in town at night and shop for trinkets that you might find interesting to place in your room. He tried his best to keep you entertained, asking about your interests, making you laugh, all that stuff.

The question that prompted you at the start of his arrival began to urge you to put forth a topic for conversation. You wait for Shimizu to finish his words before finally dropping the question.

"Why me?" You ask, eyes gazing into his as he halts at the question. He blinks a couple of times, not able to process the question.

"What?"

"Why me, my lord?" You repeat, hands clutching your satchel. "I am but a mere servant's daughter. You could have anyone."

He licks his lips eyebrows furrowing. "But you are someone."

You raise your eyebrows, urging for him to continue. The man takes a breath, looking around before finally settling his eyes on you.

"I..." He starts off, words trailing as he gazes into your eyes. He continues. "I came here before. As a child."

Your eyes widen at the revelation.

"People talk of a man named Gojo-sensei who was able to remedy almost all illnesses. I was sickly and my condition was worsening." He responds. The city lanterns glow beautifully behind his figure, laughter of children, men, and women alike provides solace in the void of silence between you. "I remember coming in there and seeing you. Seeing your father then..."

He trailed off like he was remembering something painful.

"I remember a lady," His face softens at the thought. Your eyebrows furrow. "While your father did the aiding, this woman had brought me comfort. I was never really coddled and treated with such gentleness back home. I was an only child—a firstborn son. Being soft and dependent was out of the vocabulary."

You fall silent at his words as he looks down at his hands.

"She... she stayed by my side. Fed me, clothed me, made sure I was okay." He looked up at you. "I saw you sometimes, clinging to the ends of her kimono."

A chilling realization surges through your veins. Your silence prompts him to continue.

"I heard the news that she passed away years ago. I wasn't able to come due to my duties but I am indebted to her." He says. "Then, when I visited a month ago. I saw you—a spitting image."

Your breath shakes at the words. "You proposed to me because I looked like my mother?"

Shimizu looks down in shame, hands wringing in nervousness. "I thought that if I married you, I'd be able to receive that same love again."

You let out a breath of disbelief. While the topic of your mother wasn't something you detested talking about, her memory still was something you were quite hesitant to approach. You remember her sickly figure, her weak smile, the day your father broke. It was as if you threaded lightly along the edges of her carved path, wanting to preserve what was left of her image.

You take a step back, eyes looking at him in disbelief. Shimizu falters in his stance.

"I'm sorry, this isn't going to work." You softly mutter, shaking your head. Just as you take another step back, Shimizu panics and tries to grab your hand.

"Y/N, let me explain I—"

A swift change of air alerts you of a new presence and suddenly you feel deja vu. You turn your head to meet the familiar stance of a man you didn't expect to see again.

"I believe she said no." Mizu's voice is authoritative and deep, hand encasing Shimizu's wrist. The man furrows his eyebrows at Mizu who squints back a glare.

"Who are you?! Your jurisdiction?" Shimizu demands. He tries to pull his wrist away only to be met by a steel force. Mizu scoffs.

"I won't let you go until you promise to stay 10 meters away from her." Mizu threatens. Shimizu sweat drops, eyes glancing down at the hand gripping his wrist to the eyes shielded by tinted glasses. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two, afraid that a fight might brawl out and you're not in the mood to see blood spilled.

Shimizu was also a general and if word comes out that one of the Emperor's trusted military aides got injured by someone lower of his stature, your father will definitely pay for the consequences. You rush towards them and grab Mizu's hand to break them apart.

"Let him go," You say. Mizu turns to you with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes soften, and you nod softly in reassurance. "Let him go, its okay.

Mizu hesitantly lets the man go and Shimizu stumbles back, holding his wrist. Mizu turns to you in concern, hand grabbing your arm as he examines you. "Are you alright?"

You nod, flustered by his attention. "I'm fine."

Feeling Shimizu's stare on you, you look back at the man to see hurt and a realization spread across his face. Your gaze falters.

He clears his throat and fixes his stance. "Apologies, Y/N. It seems that I have miscalculated my approaches. Forgive me for my behavior."

"It's alright, my lord," You respond. Mizu stands menacingly beside you, eyes trained on his figure. Shimizu glances at him and then at you. He smiles.

"It was nice being your friend," He says. He bows as respect. You curtsy back, albeit shaky. "I'll leave as requested. I wish you luck."

He leaves without turning back. You watch as he gets lost in the crowd, the breeze gently swinging your clothes back and forth. The lanterns dazzle the streets—performing a pretense of joy. You take a breath before finally facing the last of your problems.

Mizu stands there, eyes already looking at you with an unreadable look on his face. Your eyes soften.

"What are you doing here?" You mumble, lacking the energy to even be angry. Mizu shifts in his stance.

"I came back." He answers vaguely.

"For what?"

There a pause of silence before he moves to remove his Kasa. You can see his face clearly now, albeit those beautiful eyes of his still covered by his glasses.

"For you." He says. He gulps as if nervous and your eyes widen at his confession.

"But I thought you said—"

"I was a coward," He says. He heaves a breath. "I have loved before and shown them everything and yet I have ruined them. I was afraid that I might—that I might ruin you with what I am."

You fall silent at his words. You were confused, you had already seen what others claim to be the worst of him—in fact, that was what you loved most about his features. Eyes that seem to hold the waters—a depiction of nature. Just as he is about to continue, cheers erupt from the central town, you flinch as the others begin to gather to watch the amusement happening. Mizu, sensing your uneasiness, pulls you towards a nearby alley—dark and hidden from the public eye. He places you against the wall, eyes watching for passersby that might lurk in while your eyes are trained on his face.

You watch with admiration as his eyebrows furrow in their usual curl, those eyes that squint into a glare, chapped lips, and the glasses that begin to slowly fall down the bridge of his nose. Unable to resist the urge, you give in.

"Coast is—"

Mizu's eyes widen at the feeling of your lips against his. You cup his cheeks, pulling him down as you encase your arms over his neck. Mizu wastes no time in reciprocating the kiss. He kisses back with the same fervor, hand dropping his Kasa in favor of encasing your waist as he pulls you towards his figure. You whine as you feel his tongue intertwine with yours.

After a few pecks and kisses, you both finally pull away. There's a hushed silence of panting as Mizu places his forehead against yours.

"I am not being truthful," Mizu whispers, breath hitting your lips. "But I want to try. With you."

You smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you rub your thumbs across the surface of his skin.

"I want you as you are," You reassure him. "No matter the flaw, no matter what you tell me. I'll be here with you."

Mizu lowers his head and drops it to burrow against your neck. He hugs you close as bells and instruments begin playing. He pulls back softly before facing you with vulnerability.

"I..." He starts off. "I am not what you think I am."

You tilt your head in confusion as you encase his hands in yours. Your thumbs run over the scar that you've bandaged from before.

"I'm not a... a man." Mizu finally reveals. You pause, eyes blinking as you watch his reaction for any sort of context. Mizu purses his lips before pulling his glasses away, tucking in the side of his clothing before reaching up to pull at his top knot. You watch as his hair—no, her hair flows to her shoulders and then suddenly everything makes sense.

Mizu's breath shakes at your silence. "I-I cannot give you what you want—"

She falls silent as you lean forward to take notice of her features. The flush that adorns her cheeks and the eyes that entranced you from the start. A smile bursts from your lips.

"You're just as I dreamed of," You whisper in awe. Your arms make their way to wrap around her neck as you press yourself close to her. Mizu's face flushes at your words.

Your eyes trace the edges of her features, face contorted in a soft expression. There's a moment of silence before you finally continue. "My father wanted me to have a true love marriage. All my life, the idea of falling in love has always been my dream as a child."

Mizu blinks softly at your words, listening to your every thought.

"And now that I have it, I can understand why my father wanted me to do so," You smile, leaning your forehead against hers. "Marry me, Mizu. I just want to be yours."

The blue-eyed girl erupts into a smile, leaning forward and capturing your lips in hers. You reciprocate with the same intensity, fingers burying in her raven locks. Mizu then pulls away.

"I'll always say yes to you."

"Do we really have to do this?"

Mizu eyes your figure seated on the tatami, eyes peering up at her as she stands in front of you. You giggle at her hesitance.

"Of course!" You grin. "Consummation between man and wife is a must tradition after marriage—well in our case, wife and wife."

Mizu rolls her eyes as she sits down in front of you. She props her knee up and places her arm on top of it. She grabs the cup of tea perched on the small table beside her and takes a sip. "Consummation is done with the idea of children, love. I'm sure you're well aware of that."

You pout before an idea arises in your mind. You lean forward, going on your knees as you crawl towards her. Mizu pauses mid-sip as she watches you with careful eyes. You grab her cup, placing it down on the table as she continues to watch your every move. You settle on her lap, the slit of your kimono revealing your thighs. Mizu's breath shakes.

You take her glasses off and place them on the table before finally focusing on her, arms propped on her shoulders. You feel her hands cup your hips as you stare down at her with a smile.

"What?" You taunt. "You don't wanna fuck me?"

Mizu pauses, eyes widening before she lets out a groan and lowers her head to your clavicle. You giggle as she takes a few moments to calm herself down. Finally, pulling away to face you, Mizu looks at you with her blue eyes clouded with lust.

"You are one dangerous lady, know that?" Mizu leans forward. You grin as you rub your nose against hers.

"Mhm," You say. "My wife told me so."

"Ah fuck! Fuck!" You whimper as you grab the sheets behind you, trying to find some sort of stability from the onslaught of ministrations Mizu's giving you. "W-Wait—Mizu-Wai—Ngh!"

You're afraid that the toy one of your close friends gave you as a congratulations gift to your marriage would be too crass for your night with Mizu. You only brought it to tease her after all. You just didn't expect how much she'd be turned on by it.

"Where are you going?" Mizu's voice is deep and taunting as she watches you claw at the sheets, trying to get away from the intense pleasure. She grabs your waist and pulls you back down towards her, folding your legs to your chest. "You wanted this, why are you backing out, hm? You wanted to consummate so here we are."

She watches as the thick girth and length of her strap pushes in and out—coated with your essence. The noises from it are slick and noisy, causing you to flush in embarrassment. God fucking damn.

"So fucking pretty, aren't ya?" Mizu chuckles as she pushes her hips. She lets out a moan, feeling the other end of the dildo pushing deep with her. You whimper as Mizu presses deep, the tip of her cock bumping against that spot of yours. "So so pretty for me, aren't you momma?"

You shiver at the nickname, hands coming down to grab Mizu's lean arms—its muscle flexing as she speeds up her thrusts, making sure that it's the right spot.

"You've been adamant about this all morning. Especially, after the wedding." Mizu growls, slamming her hips against yours. "You want my kids that bad?"

You're too lost in the pleasure, moans, and garbles of her name only coming out of your mouth. Mizu smiles, hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face as she props herself up on top of you.

"If you want it so bad, I'll give it to you," Mizu leans down to bury her face on your neck, sucking a few marks as she begins to speed up her thrusts.

"Oh! Oh!" You whine as the spot inside of you becomes more sensitive with each bump. Mizu pays no mind to your sounds, reveling in the way your nails rake through her back. She smirks against your skin, licking down until she encases your nipple within her mouth. You moan at the feeling, hands reach up to bury itself in her raven locks.

"I'm close! I-I—please!" You plead as her constant torture of your cunt begins to teeter at the edge. Mizu pants heavily as she places a soft kiss behind your ear.

"I am too." Her breath shakes as her hips falter. It doesn't take long before you climax, body arching and shivering from the intensity of the pleasure. Tears begin streaming down your face as you twitch with each thrust she gives you. She smiles placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Good girl."

Mizu follows shortly behind, coming in grunts and low moans before slumping down against you. There's a moment of reprieve before Mizu props herself up once more to take a look at your afterglow.

You smile up at her, hand coming up to brush her hair over her ear. Mizu leans against your touch.

"I love you." You mumble softly. Mizu gazes into your eyes with a love so true that it warms your very being.

"I love you too."

a/n: mwehheheheheeh hope yall enjoyed that <3 not proofread will do it later mwehe

#arthenaa #mizu #the blue eyed samurai x reader #mizu x reader #mizu smut #Spotify

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aerynwrites · 8 months

Text

Longing Pt. 2

Halsin x afab!Reader

A/N: it’s FINALLY here - sorry for taking so long with it lmao. NSFW stuff, while I love it is so hard for me to write. But here you go! I hope you all enjoy this spicy conclusion to this story!

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY || smut, virgin!Reader, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, PiV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, Halsin being a total sweetheart by duh, fluff so much fluff and soft, aftercare (kinda?), outdoor sex, kissing, more fluff.

Part 1 || Masterlist

The early evening air is warm as it kisses your skin through the forest canopy. It’s the one thing you notice most besides the soft cloth covering your eyes, a familiar warm hand in your own being your guide through the foliage.

“Halsin, why can’t you just tell me where we’re going?” you ask, laughing through the question.

“Because, my heart, if I told you what was in store, it would no longer be a surprise,” he rebuffs, and you can practically hear the smile in his words.

You let out a little huff, but don’t argue further, letting the druid lead you through the forest by hand.

The journey is slow, with Halsin careful to guide you around any roots or rocks so you don’t stumble over the terrain, and you use the time to try and figure out where he’s taking you.

The smells of the forest fill your nose, the crunch of leaves beneath your feet, and you can even feel the last rays of the day’s light on your skin through the branches of the trees. But what gives you the most information is the sound of water roaring in the distance.

The waterfall.

Halsin had shown it to you just a few days prior, having found it on one of his outings in wild shape form. You remember vividly his barely contained excitement as he tugged you through the woods to show you, the blindfold withstanding.

You start to wonder why he would bring you back here so soon, and you cheeks heat at the first thought that comes to mind. When you had both arrived at the destination last time, you’d wasted little time stripping from your armor down to your underclothes and jumping in - Halsin not far behind you.

The druid had pulled you into his arms then, lips claiming your own as he maneuvered you both behind the waterfall’s curtain. You had almost jumped the proverbial cliff then, finally feeling comfortable enough to take that final step with him.

But he had pulled away, smiling down at you before tugging you back out into the water and recalling a story from his childhood.

As the sound of the waterfall grows ever louder, you silently hope for a repeat of those events.

However, the true intent of this trip is revealed when Halsin finally brings you to a stop, hands sitting comfortingly on your shoulders.

“We’re here,” he says, gently tugging at the knot holding your blindfold together.

The cloth falls away from your eyes and you blink to adjust to the light. Your surroundings come into focus slowly and you realize that you are near the same waterfall, but instead of by the river below it, you’re in a small clearing above it. You see the small river that feeds it running steadily by before moving to rush down the cliff side. And the view…it takes your breath away.

The clearing sits above the valley that holds your camp, letting you see for miles, the slowly descending sun casting an ethereal orange glow over the landscape.

Finally, your eyes land on what you assume is the last part of the surprise Halsin has planned.

In the middle of the clearing, just a few yards from the river’s edge, is an arrangement of dozens of furs laid out on the grass. You see a small burlap sack which you assume holds an assortment of food and drinks. And there’s even…candles. Some short, some tall - all of them spread around the space and lit, giving the moment a more… intimate feel than is already present.

Soft lips press against your temple before trailing down to brush your jaw.

“What do you think, my love?”

His words are soft, and you detect a hint of hesitance in them, as if he is worried you would reject this thoughtful presentation.

You turn around in his arms, lips spreading into a wide smile, your arms slipping around his waist as his do the same.

“You did all this? Is this where you were all day?” you ask, remembering his absence from your side this morning when you woke.

The druid nods. “When I found this place the idea immediately came to mind and I…I wanted to surprise you.”

Warmth blooms in your chest at his words, his thoughtfulness nearly knocking you off your feet.

You love this man.

“Well,” you finally say, leaning back to look up at him. “Consider me surprised. But…” you trail off, brows furrowing in question. “Is there an occasion for all this?”

Halsin pauses then, seemingly considering his words. You wait patiently as he does so, relishing in his embrace, his thumbs brushing over your hips slowly.

“I will not lie and say I have no goals in mind for this night but…” He pauses, eyes trailing over your face, hands tightening on your hips. “I just want to show you my love. In all the ways nature intended. If you will have me.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at his words, picking up on their meaning as all the warmth in your chest shifts down to pool in your belly instead.

You smile up at him again before leaning in to hug him, cheek pressed against his chest as he returns the affection.

“I’d love nothing more.”

Halsin leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling away quicker than you like, eyes shining with happiness as he leads you towards the furs.

“Let us eat first, while the sun still graces us with her presence. I gathered some of your favorites.”

The fur is soft beneath your feet as you remove your boots and move to settle onto the large makeshift blanket, Halsin right behind you. Idle talk fills the air as he begins pulling items from the bag, and you can’t stop the way your mouth waters at the presentation before you.

Various meats and cheeses, fresh fruit, wine, and even freshly baked items. Blueberry tarts. Sweet buns. This has obviously been in the works for a good while for him to find time to locate these items - a realization that makes your heart swell with adoration.

Quickly, before Halsin has finished unpacking, you lean in and press a chaste kiss to his lips, cheeks warm.

“Thank you. For all of this, for everything.”

Pausing his work, Halsin smiles, leaning over on one hand before reaching up to cup the back of your neck with the other. He brings his lips back to yours, and this kiss lasts a little longer before he pulls away to gaze at you.

“You deserve all nature has to provide, my heart. I’m simply showing you its bounty,” he tells you, leaning back to pick up one of the blueberry pastries.

He tears off a small piece before holding it out to you, eyes twinkling.

You raise a brow, unable to stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “Feeding me by hand now, too?” you ask, scooting forward to close in on the treat. “Careful, you might just spoil me.”

You take the offered bite between your teeth, lips brushing the tips of his fingers before he pulls back. The pastry practically melts on your tongue, the crust buttery and flaky - a direct contrast to the tart sweetness of the blueberry mixture.

You can’t stop the moan of appreciation that comes from you as you savor the treat, already wanting more.

Halsin smiles, tearing off another bite and offering to you again. “I would give you the moon and stars in the sky if it is what you wished,” he says, eyes crinkling happily when you take the offering again.

You let out a contented hum, scooting until you’re finally side by side with your lover, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw.

“As nice as that sounds…I’m perfectly content with blueberry tarts and sweet buns.” You reach up to toy with one of the braid in his hair. “And you, of course.”

Halsin laughs at your addition, the sound loud and joyous as it echoes through the trees. “I am honored to be listed among the sweetest of treats. Although, I must disappoint you and say that honey might always be my first love.”

You scoff, feigning hurt as you lean away from him, a hand over your heart. “I’m wounded. I thought what we had was special.”

Strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into his lap effortlessly as he attacks your neck and shoulders with kisses, making giggles erupt from your lips.

“You know I only jest,” he tells you as he finally pulls away, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair away from your face. “You are the only thing my heart desires. The moon to my night sky and the soil to my earth. Nothing could ever compare.”

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you have to blink to keep them back, his words making your heart so full you feel it might burst.

Cupping his face gently, you take a moment to let your eyes roam, taking in everything about the man beneath you. His scars that some might be frightened by, but you think makes him more handsome. The curving crimson tattoo that adorns his skin. His strong brow that complements his soft hazel eyes. And his lips…lips that smile down at you so often you sometimes worry they might get stuck that way. The smile that makes crow's feet appear at his eyes and show years of laughter he’s shared.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to each cheek before finally meeting his lips, holding him to you until the need for air arises.

“I love you, too,” you whisper, meaning every word.

————

The evening continues much like this. Eating and drinking and sharing kisses between, until you’re too full to continue. By then, night has fallen and has you both on your backs next to one another, eyes turned towards the stars as you each point out constellations and the stories behind them.

Halsin shows you the one representing Silvanus and goes on to tell you about his god and the stories behind his origin. You show him a constellation of the goddess your parents worshiped, recalling fond memories of your childhood.

A gasp falls from your lips in the middle of the story, eyes widening as you point up to the sky.

“Halsin, look, a shooting star!”

The little white light streaks across the sky, and you reach over to grab his hand in yours. “Close your eyes and make a wish!” you demand, eyes scrunching closed childishly.

You open your eyes once more only to see dozens of other stars following the first. Flashes of light igniting the sky before fading away.

You’ve never seen anything like it.

“Wow, it’s…beautiful,” you whisper.

You hear Halsin him in agreement. “It is…Nature has once again outdone itself.”

You turn to look at him, only to see his eyes aren’t on the sky at all.

They’re on you.

“You’re not even looking,” you chastise quietly.

Halsin smiles. “I’m looking at something more beautiful than even the stars.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks once more. “Halsin…”

Before your protest can continue, Halsin is moving. He rolls deftly towards you, hand never leaving yours until he pins it beneath his own beside your head, hovering over you. Your heart leaps in your chest, legs moving instinctively to cradle his hips as he settles above you.

His hair falls over his shoulders, the small braids swaying slightly in the soft breeze that whispers through the forest. His hand squeezes your own before his other comes up to cradle your face, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“I do not speak words without them being truthful - false niceties are an affront to those we care about, and I do not say these things insincerely,” he tells you, voice unusually quiet. “My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now. Allow me to show you the pleasures of the heart, my love.”

Excitement stirs in your chest before settling lower, warming your belly and making arousal thrum through your veins. You nod, reaching up to card your fingers through soft honey colored hair, before settling at the back of his neck.

He responds swiftly to your silent approval, his lips coming down to capture yours in a kiss so unlike the others you’ve shared tonight. They were soft and gentle and chaste, but this…

This is all consuming.

It’s heated, but not rushed. Firm, but not uncaring. His lips move against yours as if he’s pouring all his devotion into you, tongue teasing your lips until you grant him entrance.

Sighs and groans leave you both, swallowed by the other or lost to the night air as hands and lips start to roam.

Halsin shifts above you, moving to straddle your hips as his lips travel from yours to leave suckling kisses at your jaw, his hands moving to settle on your waist.

Your own hands fumble, not sure where to go when they want to touch him everywhere. They flit from his hips to his waist down to his thighs before running back up to tug at the hem of his shirt, fingers twitching as they itch to slip beneath the fabric.

Gods… you’ve never done this before. Is it too forward? Should you wait? Will he want to undress you first? What if-

Halsin’s soft chuckle rips you from your racing thoughts as he presses a kiss to the underside of your jaw, nipping lightly.

“You are free to touch, my love,” he says, as if reading your unsure thoughts. “I know I plan to. So, I believe it’s only fair of you to do the same.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks at his words, his promise to touch you as you want to touch him. But his encouragement works, and before you let your insecurity take over once more, you slide your hands under his shirt.

You sigh as your hands meet his skin, instantly relishing in the heat radiating from him. The fabric rides up around your wrists as you reach higher, fingers tracing each and every muscle and divot in his skin. You think you can faintly feel scars marring his flesh, some large, some small as they stretch across his skin.

You aren’t left to wonder for long though, as Halsin pulls himself from you only long enough to tug his shirt over his head and toss it to the side before leaning forward once more, covering you with his body.

You almost let out a whine, wanting more than just a second to take him in, but the thought is quickly forgotten as his lips return to you once more, this time relentless against the sensitive skin of your neck.

His teeth gently nip at you before his tongue comes behind to soothe the mark he’s no doubt left behind.

Your hands trail up from where they rest at his sides, coming to run over his chest, the dark hair tickling your palms until they eventually flit upwards to rest against his shoulders.

Expert fingers tug at the laces of your top, and your eyes fall to meet those of the man above you. He’s pulled away from you now, eyes searching your face as he continues to toy with the front of your shirt.

Your chest is heaving, and it’s only in this moment of silence do you realize the heat running through you. The way your toes curl into the furs beneath you, the tingling and pleasure settling low in your belly.

Gods, you want him.

You arch up into his hands ever so slightly. “You don’t have to ask,” you say, tone impatient, a surprise even to you.

Halsin’s brows furrow, lips turning down ever so slightly. “Of course I do.” He leans down to place a kiss to the corner of your lips before trailing a path down your jaw to just below your ear. “Your comfort is my utmost priority, so I will ask each and every time.”

His over abundance of care makes warmth bloom in your chest, disposing what little nerves may have been lingering in the back of your mind.

You smile, turning your head to capture his lips with yours as you give his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“I can assure you,” you tell him, pulling away from the kiss just enough to raise your arms above your head. “I’ll be most comfortable when we’re both rid of all our clothing.”

Halsin smiles, eyes twinkling with amusement. “As nature intended.”

You can’t stop the giggle that slips past your lips as Halsin lifts your shirt over your arms. You’re used to his druidic nature quips, but they still always manage to bring a smile to your face.

Halsin is quick to oblige your request, and soon you’re both bare against the furs, and that tiny tinge of uncertainty is back as Halsin’s eyes roam over you.

Without thought, your arms come up to cover yourself, but Halsin is quick to stop you in your tracks. He takes your hands in his, threading your fingers together before pressing them into the ground beside your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he whispers, leaning down to brush gentle lips over your collarbone and down lower. “You are beautiful - more radiant than the sun on a clear day and more ethereal than the moon at its fullest.”

He nips at the swell of your breast before kissing the soft skin and traveling lower, pausing between the valley of your chest to shower kisses over the softness of your stomach.

Blood rushes in your ears, heart pounding, arousal shooting to your core as you realize the path he’s taking and his most likely destination.

“Halsin…” His name leaves your lips in a gasp as his hands leave yours to follow the path his lips took just moments before.

You can feel the roughness of his palms in stark contrast to the softness of your skin, arching up into them as he reaches your breasts, kneading them in his hands.

His thumbs brush over stiffened peaks, teasing as his lips move lower, nose nudging at your navel.

“I wish to know all of you, my heart - body and soul.” His lips move against the delicate skin of your hip, breath fanning over your most intimate parts. “I have longed to taste you, to have you come undone on my tongue before I show you the other pleasures nature has to offer.”

You’ve honestly never really thought about this before, your mind always jumping to the ‘ main act,’ if you will. But now, with Halsin’s hands on you and his lips so close to where you ache for him to touch you…You find you’ve never wanted anything more.

Your hips lift from the furs involuntarily, and Halsin’s hands are quick to slide down to your hips, holding you in place gently as a chuckle leaves his lips, ghosting against the crux of you once more.

“Yes - please …” The words fall from your lips in hushed whispers, the breath having long since left you.

You don’t even know what you’re begging for. It’s not like Halsin was asking, but he must find your quiet words pleasing as another amused rumble comes from him.

He’s down lower now, his lips brushing teasingly against the inside of your knee, placing feather light kisses up along your inner thigh.

“I’ll have you begging for much more than this before the night is done.”

A shudder runs through you at his words and before a retort can even come to your mind, his mouth is on you, stealing all thoughts away. A gasp falls from your lips as your fingers move to tangle in his hair, wanting to keep him close and push him away all at once.

His tongue parts you eagerly, his nose bumping against your clit as he teases your entrance.

Arousal is hot and piercing in your core, making you even wetter than you were before, Halsin’s ministrations spurring your pleasure higher and higher with each expert stroke.

The sensation is so… foreign. Something you’ve never experienced before that has you craving more and wanting to run away at the same time. Inexperience and utter pleasure push and shove at one another, until the latter wins out as Halsin presses one finger against you, sinking in ever so slowly.

His tongue, his lips, and now his finger sinking into you makes that feeling in your belly crescendo, a feeling new to you. You don’t know whether to urge him on or tell him to stop.

As if sensing your dilemma, Halsin adds another finger, making your jaw drop open as he crooks them inside of you, brushing up against a spot that makes you see stars.

He pulls away from you then, pressing a hurried kiss to your hip, nipping at the skin there.

“ Let go for me, little one. ”

His words are the last thing you need to catapult you over the ledge you’ve never jumped before. The tension in your core bursts, the taut pressure snapping in two as your body arches into Halsin’s.

Utter euphoria rushes through your veins in a burning tidal wave, toes curling, fingers tingling from where they still clutch at his hair. You can’t even find it in you to think about loosening your grip, the pleasure coursing through you like an electric current and locking you in place.

You have nearly no idea how much time has passed before your mind comes back to you, your chest heaving with tired pants as Halsin kisses his way back up to you, nuzzling your jaw before peppering kisses to your cheeks as his hands rub soothing patterns against your sides.

“That was…” You trail off, both lost for words and still trying to get your breath back. “A lot.”

Halsin chuckles again, making you warm inside for a completely different reason as he presses his lips to yours in a slow kiss before pulling away to press another one to your temple, lips tugged up in a grin.

“Well…I did promise to overwhelm you,” he says, calling back to your conversation all those weeks ago.

You huff out a short laugh of your own, arms coming up to wrap under his own so your hands rest against the back of his shoulders.

“Consider me overwhelmed.”

That smile still on his lips, Halsin comes back down to nuzzle at your jaw again, hands trailing down your sides to rest on your thighs, guiding them to cradle his hips as he press his body more fully into yours.

A short gasp slips past your lips as you feel him against you, hot and heavy against your inner thigh. You can’t help the way your eyes glance downwards, widening at the sight of him. You hadn’t really thought to look earlier, everything else holding your attention instead, but…

Good gods above-

“ Will it fit?” The question is out of your mouth before you can think better of it, the hot swell of embarrassment creeping up your neck as Halsin laughs again, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet forest.

He pulls you closer to him, your chest brushing his own as he captures your lips again. One hand reaching up to cradle your jaw, thumb rubbing soothingly against the skin there.

When he pulls away, it’s just far enough for his forehead to rest gently against yours.

“I will go slow,” he assures you, pressing soft kisses to our brow, “but you must be my guide, tell me what pleasures you most or what causes you discomfort and I will adjust accordingly.”

Once again, despite this intimate moment, Halsin is ever the considerate, giving partner. Never putting his pleasure above yours.

You smile up at him, fingers pressing into his back slightly.

“Thank you.” You lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “But I…I want you to enjoy this, too. It doesn’t have to be about just me.”

Halsin eyes twinkle in delight, one corner of his lips tugging upwards in that rare but beguiling smirk.

“Trust me, my heart - I am enjoying myself more than you can imagine. You are giving me a most precious gift, your trust - it is more than this old druid could ever ask for.”

His words once again, strike deep, your arousal and happiness all swirling into one big ball in your chest about to burst. You tug him down on top of you, relishing in the closeness of his chest against yours, his hands on your skin, his lips on your cheek.

“You have it,” you tell him, voice wavering with emotion. “I love you, Halsin. Please… I trust you.”

“I love you too, my heart.”

Halsin’s words are but a whisper against your lips before he claims them again, mounding you to him as he positions himself to press at your entrance.

He enters slowly, never breaking your kiss, swallowing the sharp gasp that leaves you. Your fingers dig into his back at the intrusion - while not painful, it is foreign; a pleasurable pressure within you that expands more and more the deeper into you he goes.

Your earlier orgasm makes his movements easier, but he still pauses when he meets resistance, a sharp intake of breath from you all he needs as an indicator.

He breaks his lips from yours, reaching up to brush a stray hair from your forehead now dewy with perspiration. His brow furrows in concern.

“Are you alright?”

You nod. It’s the truth - you are fine, there is no pain, but, gods, you already feel full and you haven’t even taken him fully yet.

“I-I’m fine, just-“ Another breathless gasp as he twitches inside you. “Go s - slow.”

Halsin obliges, working into you in slow, measured thrusts, pulling back before sinking a little deeper each time. Each movement, no matter how small - how tempered - sends a jolt of pleasure through you, igniting the flame that never really seemed to go out.

It’s like everything is amplified by a thousand with him moving against you. The way the hair on his chest brushes against your skin sends tingles down your spine. The blood rushing in your ears, the soft pants he exhales - breath warm against your cheek from where his forehead nuzzles your own. His hand feels like a branding iron against your skin where he pulls your leg up over his hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks behind.

You can tell he’s holding back, using every ounce of control he has to please you - to not rush this.

Your heart aches in the best way when he finally - finally - bottoms out, his hips flush against your own. His head falls to your shoulder, and the groan he lets out is sinful enough to match the moan that falls from your own lips - his name a whispered prayer in the night air.

You’re so full it feels like you can’t take a full breath without feeling him everywhere. Inside you, on top of you, his lips against your skin and his hands holding you in just the right way. You feel…made for him. Him made for you. Like pieces of a puzzle finally joining together.

You relish in the feeling of him like this. But more than that, you desperately want him to move, your hips twitching against his in silent request. Only, when he doesn’t respond do you speak up.

“I think…I’m alright, you can move,” you tell him, voice breathy.

You feel him nod against your shoulder, hair tickling the sensitive skin there as he speaks. “Yes I, ah - just need a moment.”

One of your hands runs down his back and then up again, your legs squeezing his hips gently. “Are you okay?”

Halsin laughs quietly, breath hot against your skin before pulling away, lifting one hand up to cradle your cheek as he gazes down at you in utter adoration.

“Yes, just…admiring all of nature's creations, and…considering how very lucky I am.”

You smile up at him, eyes starting to feel watery at the sincerity behind his words. “Halsin, I…I’m lucky too.”

His lips turn upwards before he leans down to place a slow, deliberate kiss to your lips before pulling away. “I care about you a great deal. More than…more than I can express. So, I will do my best to show you.”

His meaningful words end just as he decides to move, pulling out before sliding back in with one smooth thrust. The movement makes stars erupt before you as your eyes clamp shut, pleasure singing through you.

Halsin picks up his speed when you offer no complaint, skin slapping against skin as he finds a steady rhythm. His lips press haphazardly against you, moving from your neck to your collarbone, down and then back up again, as if he wants to worship all of you but doesn’t know where to start.

One of his hands plants itself in the furs beside your head, fingers digging into the soft fabric for purchase while the other falls down to grip your leg again, tugging it ever higher on his hip, allowing him to press deeper into you.

A high-pitched cry escapes your lips at the movement, the new angle letting him hit something devastating inside of you with each thrust.

Your fingers dig into his back, nails no doubt leaving behind marks as they score down his shoulder blades, desperate to pull him closer. He drops down to bear his weight on his forearm, pushing himself closer to you, pressing you into the furs beneath you as if he too can’t get close enough.

“ Oak Father preserve me,” Halsin practically growls, burying his face into your shoulder, blunt teeth digging into your skin before he speaks again. “You are so… perfect. Like you were created by the gods themselves just for me,” he groans as his hips stutter momentarily, grinding up into you. “I love you, my heart, more than words or any actions can describe.”

His words, the way he feels inside you, the way his lips smooth the dull ache his teeth left behind, it’s all too much. It’s overwhelming in the best way as that coil in your belly pulls taut again, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

Your chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, one of your hands coming up to cradle the back of his head, holding him to you as your legs finally move to wrap around his waist, heels digging into him, urging him on - silently begging him to bring you both to release.

“I love you too.” The words come out hoarse and broken.“ Fuck, Halsin I - I’m close, please… ”

He responds to your plea, his hips stuttering as he nears his own end. He turns his head ever so slightly, lips brushing your ear before placing a gentle kiss just below, whispering sweet nothings against your skin.

He reaches his end just before you do, and it brings about your own euphoria. The cord snaps just as his hips do against yours, warmth flooding you inside and out as you topple over the edge. His name falls from your lips over and over, a provocative incantation for only the night and the man above you to hear.

He works you through your release, only stilling when you’re both spent, chests rising and falling against one another, skin damp with sweat as you pull each other closer still.

Halsin tucks both arms beneath you as you slowly come down, pulling you tight against him as he rolls you both onto your sides.

Neither of you speak for several moments, instead choosing to bask in the afterglow, relishing the cool night air against your heated skin. Only when Halsin’s hand starts to trail random patterns against your back does he finally speak.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice gentle with just a touch of concern lacing his words.

You look up at him, brows furrowed. “Did I do something to suggest otherwise?”

Halsin shakes his head, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair back from your face. “No, but I…I know I am…more than most. I just wanted to ensure there were no…lingering discomforts.”

You shake your head. Other than the dull ache between your thighs, which you do not regret…there’s not a scratch on you. And you couldn’t feel better.

“No discomforts here,” you tell him, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “None that I’m going to complain about, anyway.”

Halsin lets out an amused huff before rolling once more so you rest on top of him, ignoring your gasp of surprise. “Good,” he says, reaching up to run warm hands down your sides before resting on your hips, eyes meeting yours once more. “I truly meant it when I said this was a gift. You are a gift, the greatest treasure Silvanus could have ever bestowed upon me.”

Halsin reaches up to take one of your hands that rests on his chest, bringing it up to press a chaste kiss to your knuckles. “You honor me by choosing to be by my side.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and words fail you at first. So, you lean forward to hide your face against him, nose brushing just below his ear as you nuzzle into the space between his head and shoulder.

“I’ve never…” You trail off before finally finding your words. “I’ve never trusted someone enough to…take this step with,” you admit, arms moving to wrap around him, hands tucking between his back and the furs beneath him. “Thank you for loving me enough to show me what it's like.”

Halsin’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you to him as his lips brush your temple.

“The pleasure was all mine, my heart. I love you more than the moon loves the stars and the sun loves the earth.”

You smile against him, eyes suddenly feeling heavy, sleep tugging at the edges of your consciousness. “That’s a lot of love…might take a while to get it all out.”

You feel his chest rumble with laughter. “That just means more nights with you in my arms.”

You hum in agreement, finally letting your eyes fall shut. And, as Halsin’s arms hold you tight, you both fall asleep under the stars, nature surrounding you.

#Halsin x reader #halsin x fem!reader #Halsin bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 #halsin

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