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queer-little-demigod · 1 month

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you belong with me - clarisse la rue

summary she's in love with her best friend.

fic type fluff

pairing clarisse la rue x fem!Poseidon!reader

word count 1.8k

warnings jealous!clarisse, swearing, pining, knives, clarisse threatening people, fluff.

masterlist

dividers from this post of @cafekitsune, check out their account!

At this point, Clarisse had no clue how the hell she fell for you.

You relationship had started when she'd tried to intimidate you on your first day at camp, and instead of backing down under her fierce as death gaze, you had threatened her at literal knifepoint.

"I've stood up to bullies bigger than you," you'd snapped, your soft e/c blazing with fire as the tip of a dagger kissed the underside of her jaw. “So back off, or I’ll make you regret it.”

While that earned you respect amongst everyone in camp, it earned you respect of every Ares cabin member, too.

Especially Clarisse la Rue.

The scariest girl in camp.

It had started off with her debating on whether or not she would be mean to you, making you her enemy, or befriending you.

She was strong, not stupid, so she chose the latter option.

Which brought you both here, today, three years later.

The spring season had started setting in, flowers were blooming, the sun was pleasant, wind wasn't scarce and it was cool. Sitting under the trees in the woods became a natural pastime for year-round campers like the two of you.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves of the surrounding trees, casting irregularly shaped shadows on the ground, turning them a deep green on the slightly prickly but comfortable grass.

Clarisse leaned her back against the big tree you both were sitting under, polishing her spearhead, with you in front of her, doing the same for your knives.

The daughter of Ares, while she'd never admit it aloud, was absolutely smitten when it came to you. In fact, this feeling had been lingering in her heart for some time, one which attracted her to you in a definitely non-platonic way.

So here she sat, listening to you talking. Your voice was the only thing she was focused on besides polishing her weapon. It stood out amongst the gentle rustle of the leaves in the trees, the call of a distant bird, the lapping of the lake's water against the edge just past the clearing.

"So, I told Silena that Charlie's in love with her, not her actual dumb blonde of a sister, Sharon," you said, rubbing the polish on the cloth you had in hand, before continuing to polish your left-hand knife. "You know, for a child of Aphrodite, she is remarkably oblivious towards loving advances. Oh, and you know that girl, Kyra, from the Hephaestus cabin? My gods, she has been looking so fine--"

Clarisse stopped listening right then. She knew you were smitten with this girl from the Hephaestus cabin, and by every one of the ever-merciful gods of Olympus, she hated it. She hated how you talked about Kyra, how your eyes lit up when the muscled girl covered with grease so much it was an accessory would glance at you.

She tuned out and stared at you, not noticing the disdainful look on her face.

"Risse, you look like you just smelled a wild centaur," you laughed, putting the cloth down and sheathing your knives again.

Clarisse rolled her eyes and grumbled, "No, I don't like Kyra's vibe."

"Aww, jealous?"

"You wish,"

You were so oblivious. Not only were you unaware that Kyra was a playgirl, but you didn’t notice that Clarisse was smitten with you to the point where it was embarrassing.

For starters she looked at you like you were the world. With adoration, awe, and wonder. She honestly couldn’t stop thinking about you.

She hated how you didn’t notice how her eyes lit up around you, how she was softer with you compared to others, how she let you paint her nails (mostly) without complaint.

You were just too oblivious.

Naturally, that evening, that same evening, she was at the Ares table, talking with her own siblings, while she watched you help Percy out with the rest of the camp’s social structures—something he hadn’t quite figured out yet, even after having gone on a quest.

But the way her blood boiled, as if a furnace had lit up inside her heart, making fire course through her veins, when Kyra came up to you. She saw how flustered you got, saw the way your cheeks reddened when Kyra brushed a hair from your face.

By the gods and her father’s name she wanted to smack that Hephaestus girl into next week…

Meanwhile, you say with Kyra, enjoying the butterflies in your stomach when she touched you, laughed at your nervous rambling’s. But the butterflies suddenly came into light as a warning. What was the likeliness that this affection would last? What was concrete in this interaction? Was it just a playful banter? Or something serious?

So many questions, not enough answers.

But one thing was for certain: Kyra wasn’t the one for you. It took just one interaction for you to understand that.

To understand that Clarisse was right.

But before you could walk away, your hotheaded best friend, seething with anger, jealousy rolling off her in waves, came up to you both and ‘borrowed’ Kyra for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clarisse asked as she led a very surprised Kyra into the forest. “What exactly do you think you’re doing, playing with Y/n’s feelings like that?”

“Come on,” Kyra laughed, Nerva wearing off a little as her arrogance took over. “She’s a girl, a smitten little girl, who knows she likes a little bit of muscle,”

“Unfortunately she doesn’t know that there’s a snake under that damned muscle,”

“Jealous, Clarisse? Of course you are,”

“What that supposed to mean, punk?”

“You’re so in love with Y/n, it shows. Everyone in camp can tell,”

“Oh is that right? If you know that so well, then you’d better stay the fuck away from her,”

Kyra’s brows shot up. “Is that so? What if I don’t? What if I take her to this very spot, and kiss her, maybe while you watch from the bushes over there?”

Clarisse felt her fists clench, felt her whole body tense up with an adrenaline that came out only during battle.

“What if I break your legs and punch that stupid face in?” She asked, eyes full of the familiar fire that only her opponents saw. “I don’t think Y/n likes the taste of blood.”

She relished the look of panic on Kyra’s face. The trapped-animal stare, the darting irises, searching for a way out, analysing her moves in that second. The tense muscles, clenched jaw, closed fists. All of it was familiar to the child of war.

But how familiar was it to the child of the forge? Not much, probably.

“Stay the fuck away from Y/n, and you and I won’t have any problems, Kyra,” Clarisse said, her voice soft. That made it more dangerous. It was soft like the gentle rain that preceded the flooding thunderstorm—a warning.

Kyra nodded, knowing it was unwise to provoke Clarisse La Rue, especially over a girl everyone in camp knew not to mess with.

But it also meant that Clarisse figured out the depth of her love for you. That it was deeper than the vastest sea, stronger than the biggest tsunami, and more damaging than a hurricane. It was fiercer than fire, more powerful than a blow from her spear, and definitely more dangerous than war.

So she’s decided to flush out her feelings. Get them out before things got worse because she couldn’t possibly find a way to get out of the ‘philia’ situation she had going with you. She wanted ‘eros’, wanted ‘ludus’, and she knew it.

Her catalyst was the mind, she wanted it to be the body., wanted it to be the heart. She wanted you in a way that friends never wanted each other. She wanted you the way Achilles wanted Patroclus, wanted you the way Romeo wanted Juliet, the way Orpheus wanted Eurydice.

She wanted you and only you.

But she could never have that.

So she decided the best way to manage her haywire heart was distance.

But by every one of the gods, big and small, was she wrong.

You found that Kyra didn’t look in your direction ever again, and additionally, found Clarisse avoiding you with nearly psychotic fervour.

Three days. You tolerated it for three days.

Finally you stormed up to Clarisse when she was training. With a swift kick to the back of her knee, you sent her crashing to the ground, disarming her spear from her.

“What did you think you were doing, avoiding me like this?!” You seethed, knife at her throat. “What, was this your idea of punishing me for having Kyra flirt with me?”

Calmly, Clarisse moved you off her like one would brush away a particularly disgruntled cat, and stood up.

“Look, I’m fine, I wasn’t doing anything,” she shrugged, grabbing her spear.

You rolled your eyes. This girl was dumb, stupid, and an absolute useless person when it came to interacting with others.

“I don’t think ignoring me for three straight days can be counted as ‘not doing anything’!” You snapped, annoyed.

Clarisse flinched at your tone.

“Why?!” You asked, following her around as she cleared up the arena. “Why exactly have you been ignoring me, hm?”

She listened patiently to your incessant pestering, going about her business while you looked like you were about to blow a gasket with how mad you were since your hands began to move more animatedly, your frown deepening even more.

“Why the hell did you say that nothing’s wrong when something clearly is?! Are you jealous? Is that it?! Why?!” You asked, expecting her not to reply the way she had been the last ten minutes.

Clarisse had had enough. She was taking the plunge into that deep dark sea, not sure if she was ready to face the monsters in it.

“Because I’m in love with you!” She said, turning around with a terrified look on her face. “I’m in love with you, and I didn’t know what to do about it because you clearly don’t love me back!”

You stood silent for a second too long. But she didn’t run. She stayed there, waiting for your answer.

“You’re in love with me?” You asked, baffled.

No butterflies, nothing fluttered in your stomach, your heart rate merely quickened and your body pulsed in every place with serotonin.

No butterflies meant this wasn’t just a thing, a fling. It wasn’t mindless flirting.

This was ‘ludus’, the love of intimacy, pure love.

“Yes, Y/n, and it kills me every single day, hearing you ramble about Kyra, and you know what I’m thinking when you talk about her like that?” She asked, tears ready to come out of her eyes. “I think that I could treat you like a queen, like you’re above Hera herself. I think that why would you love a playgirl who won’t give a single fuck about your feelings, when I’m here already knowing what you want for breakfast every day of the week! I think that I could be better than her, that I am better than her, in every possible way, but you’re just blind! You don’t see that I look at you like you’re the world because you’re so smitten with a girl who would toss you aside for the next blonde girl she sees!”

You listened to her carefully, taking in her words. In between, neither of you knew when, she had started crying. Small tears rolled down her bronze skin, tracing small pathways in their trail of sadness, of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you replied softly, stepping closer, putting a hand up to wipe her eyes. “I’m sorry that I was blind to how you feel about me, I’m sorry for not noticing it sooner,”

“And Y/n, you’re my best friend, okay? I can’t…I know that we can never be together and…” she stopped short when your hands went up to cup her cheeks.

“Why is that?”

“Philia, Y/n. Friendship love.”

“Who says it can’t progress?”

“You don’t love me back,”

“I do,”

“Friendship love doesn’t count here,”

“Bold of you to assume I’m talking about friendship,”

Clarisse froze.

“I love you too, Clarisse,” you said softly, looking at her in her eyes. “And I’m not talking about ‘philia’. Gods I love you the way Achilles loved Patroclus, the way Romeo loved Juliet, the way Orpheus loved Euridyce,”

“I thought that too,” she whispered, shocked. “How…”

“I know that because these three romances are the ones I’ve read to you,” you replied. “I know you, Clarisse. But I was too blind to see your love went past my mind and extended to my heart, my body, my soul. And I’m sorry for being blind.”

“You belong with me, not her,”

“Do you see me doubting that?”

She giggled softly. Clarisse La Rue, the most feared girl in camp, giggled like a little kid.

“It’s okay, I guess, you little dumbass,” she chuckled. “So…what now?”

“I don’t know, do we kiss?” You asked, confused. “You know I have never kissed a girl before and—“

She silenced you with a finger to your lips.

“Let’s…take it slow? Ease into it?” She asked. “Cause I have never kissed a girl either,”

“Be my girlfriend, though?”

“You thought I’d say no?”

Hi! It’s me, Lea! I hope you liked this imagine, feel free to request <3

#clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #clarisse pjo #clarisse x reader #friends to lovers

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eilidh-eternal · 4 months

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Good morning 🥰 Wolf-shifter!Price is a bad, bad man 🤭 | Part 1 | Masterlist |

18+ MDNI | This is a DARK FIC | cw: blood, drowning, predator and prey dynamics

Little fawn… You shouldn’t be out on that ice.

John lingers at the edge of the forest, halts his routine surveillance at the fringes of his territory, and watches as you fall, can hear the ice shudder and give way, can smell the panic and fear as you sink beneath the frozen surface.

Well. A frozen meal is better than no meal at all.

He peels back layers of winter garb as he approaches the waters edge, shucking them into the snow before he makes the plunge himself.

You must have tried to fight it, the dead weight of your heavy clothing. Still so close to the surface when he reaches you. With kicking feet he takes you under the arms and hauls you back up, pushes you up onto the ice before hauling himself out behind you, and carries you off the treacherous lake. Sharp metal prods at his thigh with each step that jostles your skate-clad feet, and a growl of contempt rumbles in his chest when he feels the blade dig into his skin, thin rivulets of warm blood mixing with the water that drips from his body. They’re the first thing he removes from you, followed by the useless coat full of lake water and the monstrosity of a sweater beneath it.

Your left side blooms a tantalizing red, droplets staining the snow beneath you like Rorschach ink bleeds onto paper, and the sweet, metallic scent floods his senses. Calls to baser instincts. But then you begin to cough and hack, water gurgling between your darkened lips, and he can hear the faint thump of the cordiform muscle in your chest beating back to life. Pulsing with more of that sweet essence.

Not so frozen after all. Still time for a little fun.

He hopes you wake soon, that he won’t have to slink along in the shadows for hours before your scent paints the forest and leads him to you. Hopes that when you wake the panic and fear will smell just as decadent mingled with the adrenaline. Oh, how he’d like to linger here and watch that panic bloom on your pretty little face. Watch the confusion turn to shock, watch the whites of your eyes swallow the irises as you realize who—what—looms over you.

But he can’t. You won’t last out in this cold in your sopping clothes, and he won’t last in this form without his. So he leaves you with his coat draped over your body, the rest of his clothes nearby in the snow, and prowls into the sanctuary of pine and aspens that shield his fur from the wind blasted clearing you lie in.

He prowls, and he waits.

It doesn’t take long. And you’re so, so smart, little fawn. So smart to make use of the clothing he’s left for you. So very clever to follow his footprints in the snow. To wrap your arms around your middle and keep your hands balled inside the oversized sleeves of his coat.

And your scent… Oh, he had not been expecting that. The way your sweetness has tangled itself with his own scent. The way the lingering musk from his clothes wraps around your delicate, honeyed sillage. Warm and syrupy, like the blood that splatters in the snow and paints a path through the trees.

So focused are you on pushing forward, on moving and staying warm, that you do not notice the shadow at your back when you trudge into their refuge, sighing long and heavy at the absence of the punishing wind nipping at your exposed skin. You huff and puff as you fight the deep drifts, already at a disadvantage and clumsy in shoes far too big for you, his footsteps clearing the way not making much if a difference in your exhausted, wounded state.. You can hardly walk, let alone run, and so he bides his time. Watches from a distance, from the cover of pine boughs heavy and drooping with snow, from the shadows cast by the rapidly setting sun.

The snow may glitter and glisten, might make pretty patterns on frosted leaves and look pillowy soft where it gathers in drifts at the bases of tree trunks, but it is deceptive and cruel under the light of the moon. And the dark brings forth a host of malevolent, savage creatures. Things like him.

He’s doing you a kindness, really, watching over you as you tromp through the snow. Herding you closer and closer to his den. And don’t you just look delicious, smell absolutely divine, when all that fear and panic comes rushing back when you reach the end of his tracks. You’re so lucky that it’s him who pulled you from that lake, who’s been tracking you through this forest, and not some other, overeager beast that lacks composure and control.

No, he’s going to savor you. Going to take his time wearing you down. Get your adrenaline pumping, nice and warm for him when he finally brings you to his den. Then, and only then, will he taste you. Slake the thirst gnawing away inside of him, hollowing out his insides with the need to touch and taste and devour the sweet scent he’s been following for hours.

The snarl that rips from his throat is a primal thing, more animal than man, as he tastes your desperation, the spike of adrenaline when you finally realize you’ve been followed. His growl echoes in the silence that follows, beckons you to turn around, to let him see the fear as it unfolds across your features.

Let me see you, little one. Look at my teeth and claws and show me those pretty doe-eyes.

And god are you a fucking sight when you do, eyes wide with terror and shaking like a newborn on trembling legs. He knows you don’t shiver because of the cold, knows the decadent scent of dread and horror when it hits him, knows the instant you get that sinking feeling in your stomach when your eyes meet his and instead of doing what you should do, make yourself seem bigger, louder, you deflate. You curl in on yourself and don’t make a sound, hardly even breathe, until he pads forward, and you mirror his movement.

He steps forward, you step back. He steps to the left and you’re inching to the right. So easy for him, going exactly where he wants you to, doesn’t even have to snarl to get you to move in the right direction.

What a precious little thing you are, and you have no idea what’s in store for you.

He wouldn’t say it’s a game of cat and mouse, you haven’t even taken your eyes off of him, refuse to turn your back to him. So he keeps edging closer, hedging your little bubble of ‘safety’ you’ve managed to maintain. But then you go the wrong way, stumble over a fallen tree buried beneath the snow and it sets you off course, so he has no choice but to correct you.

Another low growl vibrates through him and it amuses him when your steps falter, when you freeze in place and he circles to come at you from the other direction.

This way, little one.

He moves further into your bubble and you start moving again, in the right direction this time. And though he can still taste the fear rolling off of you, there’s something else buried beneath it, tangy and acidic on his tongue. You don’t exactly back away from him anymore, either, just shuffle along with frequent glances over your shoulder to make sure he hasn’t gotten too close. Getting too comfortable. He’ll have to teach you how poor that decision is, to turn your back on him.

But not today. Today, you will go to his den, and he’ll be teaching you a different sort of lesson once he gets that nasty gouge on your side sorted. It’s beginning to bleed through his coat, deep red blooming against dull khaki, and you’re stumbling over everything and nothing. So he hedges closer, practically nipping at your heels to spur you on, get you moving just a bit quicker, until finally the scent of smoke and pine sap wafts through the air, and you make a relieved sound when the cabin comes into view.

You don’t need his guidance anymore. You know you need the warmth of that fire, the shelter the cabin offers. And you’re desperate enough not to care who it belongs to. Desperate enough that when no one answers your calls and you find the door unlocked, you go right in, go straight to the hearth and huddle as close as you can to the flames. You really shouldn’t, but you lay down, curl into the insulation of the coat and let your eyes droop closed, despite the risk of hypothermia that falling asleep poses. But you must be tired. You’d drowned. Nearly gutted yourself falling through the ice. Waded through wind and snow with a wolf at your back to get here.

Of course you’re tired. Tired enough that you don’t hear John come inside, don’t stir as he moves about and tends to himself and the fire. Only make a soft whining sound when he finally lifts you from the floor to settle you on the couch and peel away the blood-crusted layers that cling to your skin. He makes quick work of the wound, cleaning the dried blood from your skin and soaking up the fresh outpouring with gauze as he pushes the needle and thread through your skin, too exhausted to register the additional pain.

Fur lined blankets settle over you, cocooning you in warmth and shielding you from the lingering cold in the air. John watches you from his place on the adjacent armchair, feet kicked up on the old coffee table, and he hums knowingly when you burrow deeper into the blankets' warm refuge.

Rest now, little fawn. You’ll need all your strength when you wake.

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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bruisedboys · 2 months

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sejanus plinth x fem!reader | sejanus is a helpless romantic, you’re totally shy under his affections, but he just can’t help himself!

implied shy!reader, coryo being a menace but in a playful way, sejanus being a tease, kissing, so much fluff!!!!

Coriolanus watches you and Sejanus with a look of mild disgust on his face.

“Ugh,” he says. “They’re gross.”

Lucy Gray laughs, up to her knees in the long, soft grass.

“Don’t be mean, Coriolanus,” she chides, digging her elbow into his ribs. “I think they’re cute.”

“Cute?” Coriolanus huffs, incredulous. “He looks like he’s about to eat her.”

Truth be told, Sejanus does look a bit like he wants to eat you. In the most romantic way possible, of course. You’re both sitting on the pier over the lake, and he’s got you in his lap, your knees caged on either side of his hips, his face so close to yours you’re almost kissing. He thumbs at your collarbone, fingers curled over your bare shoulder, hands warm on your sunkissed skin, gazing at you like you’ve been threaded with pure gold. The lake sloshes softly beneath you.

You peek over Sejanus’ shoulder, buzzing with fondness. “They’re looking at us.”

“Who?” Sejanus asks, distracted by the way you shudder under his touch. He thinks it’s sickeningly cute, how shy you are. “Coryo, huh? Don’t worry, honey. He’s just jealous.”

Honey? Heat creeps up your neck at an alarming rate. Any more of this and you’ll melt in a lovesick puddle. The pet name plays in your head over and over like a broken record. Honey, honey, honey.

“Jealous?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t seem to think straight when he’s got you this close. His hands on your skin, his thighs firm under yours. You glance over his shoulder again, self conscious.

“Mhm.” Sejanus brings a hand to your jaw and tilts your head in his direction with two fingers, forcing your gaze away from your friends. “‘Cause you’re so pretty,” he explains, voice like melted sugar. “And I’ve got you all to myself.”

You fear you’ll go up in flames. You hide your burning face by dropping it to his shoulder, shy and so so in love with him. Sejanus laughs softly, soaked through in fondness, and rubs your back with a big warm hand. Your spaghetti strap top means his palm graces a slice of exposed skin at the top of your back, and pleasured goosebumps erupt in his wake.

“I’m sorry, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?” He murmurs, his mouth ghosting your ear, so close he’s almost kissing it. He sweeps his hand up your back and then down again. “C’mon, come back out. I want to look at you.”

He pulls back slightly and gets a hand under your chin to encourage you up. You’re putty in his hands, surprising yourself at how quickly you oblige, how quick you are to do what he wants. He waits patiently for you to meet his gaze and once you do, you find your own feelings of overbearing fondness reflected back at you. His pretty eyes are pools of love, the honey sun painting them the colour of browned butter. You like him so much you could suffocate in it.

Sejanus grins at you, cheeks dimpling. He tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly. His hand lingers at your throat.

“Yeah,” you nod, breathless and much too eager but you can’t bring yourself to care. “You don’t have to ask, Sej.”

Sejanus hums before capturing your mouth in a swift kiss. You breathe him in and curl your hand around his neck, breathing in his scent of pine and firewood, something sweeter, like caramel. Your fingers brush over the short hair at the nape of his neck. He’s told you he used to have curly hair, and as much as you like imagining him with his curls, you like his buzzed hair just as much. He’s so handsome he doesn’t need curls, anyway.

Sejanus brings his hand to your waist and tugs you closer, desperate and greedy but never rough. You go happily, kissing him back with as much earnest as you can manage, pushing up onto your knees in your desperation to be closer still. You get lost, forget where you are, like you tend to do when you’re with Sejanus.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus is fake gagging into the grass.

“You agree that’s a bit excessive, right?” He asks Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray just rolls her eyes. “You’re dramatic. They’re in love.”

Coryo scoffs. “Couldn’t they be in love somewhere else?”

Lucy Gray watches as you pull away from Sejanus and start giggling like a lovesick fool, while he tries to coax you back into another kiss.

No, she thinks. Not gonna happen.

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lokisgoodgirl · 6 months

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Darkest Night, Brightest Day: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (6) One tiny bed, one tiny brain cell, one breakthrough and one big rock. Warnings: Minors DNI. One bed. Smuttish. Sexual tension. Humour. Sneaky Satchels. Language. Pining. Mild Angst. (w/c 6.2k) Recommended Folklore Track: My Tears Richochet

You held your breath, staring at the wall as Loki lowered himself beside you in the moon-cut darkness.

Lifting, you pushed your pillow further to the side. He moaned gently as his head met the cushion he had brought from the floor with a soft thump. In the single bed, there could only have been an inch between your bodies.

Your eyes were wide open, focusing on a single spot on the wall. The warmth of his skin, a slight brush of his cotton-clad calf against your bare one setting your nerves alight. He lifted his head, raking his hair back as he always did before lying back on the pillow with a sigh. “Comfortable?” he whispered.

You both knew the answer to that one. “Sure,” you whispered back.

Through the wall, the suspicious muted moans of pleasure continued.

A bedspring creaked. “I’m sure it’s not what you think,” Loki murmured. “What you think, you mean.” you hissed playfully. “I can’t believe your brother has corrupted Steve!?” Loki’s abs pulsed intermittently against your back as he laughed, trying to be silent. “At least he aimed high with his first time,” you whispered to the wall. Loki’s snort of restrained laughter blew against your neck. “Aimed high? Agent, I think you vastly overestimate my brother’s prowess.” You giggled against the pillow, and without meaning to, sort of, you inched back closer to Loki’s stomach. But not touching. You made sure of that. “At least they have protection, thanks to you-” you muttered with mock-stoicism. There was a longer pause, this time. The heat from his body nestled close. Infuriatingly close. “You know, I am not sure I wish to take credit for that,” he said quietly. It sounded serious, but you could tell he was smiling.

He shifted. You heard the soles of his feet thrum against the metal bed-frame. The sides of the conjured blanket draped down each side of the bed, mattress creaking beneath his hip.

A dip made you roll back further against him.

“Sorry,” he murmured as your shoulders touched his chest, “collateral damage.” “It’s fine,” you said, as casually as you could muster. “It’s...nice.”

The sharp intake of breath which sucked in his stomach made you clench. Seconds ticked by as you watched shadows dance the wall. A weave of ivy hung over Loki’s window, its outline waving against moonlight.

“I’m sorry I kissed you yesterday,” you whispered. But you weren’t sure why. It seemed necessary, somehow. “Consider it forgotten,” Loki hummed politely. He started to speak again, and then stopped. You ceased breathing as he shuffled closer. You wondered if he meant to. But still, his stomach didn’t touch your back.

“I’m sorry for what I did our second night here,” he murmured unexpectedly. “It was rude, and entirely thoughtless for me to turn up in your door in that regrettable state. I don’t know what possessed me-” “Consider it forgotten,” you repeated staunchly back to him. There was silence. What did you expect him to say, you chided as your stomach dropped; grasping the snug blanket draped over you. You rubbed the pelt between your fingertips nervously.

You knew exactly what you expected him to say.

‘I’m not sorry,’ he would have purred licentiously in your ear. ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss. It was all I could do in the supermarket not to finish what you started-’

And then, he would have rolled you towards him with the firmest intent. The smoulder in his eyes burning through any hint, any inkling that this was a bad idea. His knuckles would have trailed down your neck, between your breasts; his fingers slipping down to the hot mess between your legs.

‘Oh darling,’ he would simper as curls fell sluttishly around his jaw, fingers slipping with ease inside you. ‘I’ve missed you so.’

“Did you ever love me, Loki?”

For a second, you couldn’t believe you’d actually said it.

The moments that you waited for Loki to give any sign that he’d heard you were the longest in living memory.

You bit your lip, grimacing as he shuffled back, just an inch. But the loss of his skin so close to yours made your heart sink. It was cold again. “Yes, I did.” he said curtly.

There was a hint of reproach in his voice, but it was sincere. Your heart dropped at the past tense as he cleared his throat quietly. A fidget of his fingers on the blanket rustled as he considered his next words.

“Did you?” he asked, the words running together. “Love, me?” “Yes,” you murmured without pause. The blanket’s fur twirled between your thumb and forefinger, twisted to a point. The question that had always lingered in your mind came to the forefront in crisp clarity. What the hell, you thought bitterly. Might as well get some answers. You took a deep breath.

“I always wondered, after you said...‘gods don’t love like we do’ and then went all quiet. You never told me what you meant, I thought maybe...because I’m not one of you-” the thought lingered in the air. “I don’t know…” you trailed off.

Each shallow breath was heavy. “Deeper,” Loki’s quiet whisper breathed against your back.

Your teeth chattered. It was real this time. “H-huh?” you shivered. In the silence, Loki’s arm slid over your blanketed shoulders. The flat of his stomach finally met your spine, the familiar rippled surface warmer than a hot bath on a winter night. You sank into the feeling as he drew you close and squeezed. Just once. “We love deeper.” he mumbled nervously. It hung in the air, his heartbeat thumping against your lungs. “Our capacity for depth is not limited to strength, or knowledge, but feeling.” “Why wouldn’t you just tell me that?” you snipped, harder than you had intended. “I was embarrassed. It made me feel-” Loki paused. You held your breath, eyes darting around the sliver of moonlight cast on the wall before settling on the ivy’s shadow.

“Weak?” you whispered softly. “Weak.” he replied.

There was silence.

Rain had begun to beat against the window. The sheet against your bodies rustled. “My brother has shown me some of the error of my ways,” Loki said quietly. “And you, of course.” His fingertip brushed absent-mindedly over the blanket covering your chest. “I am only sorry you had to suffer my worst qualities. You deserved better. Perhaps next time I will be a better...man.” You could feel the effort it took to withhold the alternative.

As his words sank in, your stomach twisted. “Next time?” you murmured earnestly.

“If I am lucky enough to find love again, I hope to deserve it. Appreciate it, not squander it.” Loki said.

With frightening clarity, you realised the idea of Loki with anyone but you was a dagger to the heart. Loki felt you bristle in his tentative hold.

Although he thought he had been doing rather well, something now made him think he’d said the wrong thing.

It had taken all his not inconsiderable strength to keep the words in. He had been honest to a point. Perhaps too honest for his liking. And, so it seemed, yours.

Sheathed desire bubbled between his thighs. Ignored. He had been doing well, he repeated to himself as he felt a quiet sigh escape you. One he was not meant to hear, he was sure. Loki knew that sex was not what you wanted. Not really. One night of mind-numbing passion on this abysmal bed would not go any way to mending the pain he had caused. It would hurt you. The thought made him feel ill. Loki was rather proud of himself at the realisation, but gods, how he wanted you.

Your quiet breaths were a melody in the darkness, the strangeness of this situation made stranger by its aching familiarity.

He re-positioned his head, focusing on the space between your shoulder-blades. The points shifted beneath his t-shirt you wore, hair pooled messily on the pillow. Had you swept it up in that way to expose the curve of your neck to him on purpose? Loki frowned, trying to quieten the thought.

He wanted to crash to your skin with the force of his kisses. Wet, pure, longing. To roll you to your back with a demure sigh from your lips. Loose himself in the scent of you, the earthy sweetness of your heat. He wanted to tell you that he was sorry, that he was wrong, that he would try.

But words were not what was needed. He knew that now. Words had lost him your love. He needed to show you he could change.

But still, Loki allowed himself to to tease the t-shirt up your waist in the safety of his mind, feel your perfect breasts spill into his waiting palms as your legs wound around his hips.

Just for a moment.

He imagined you would pull him to your open mouth, muttering ambrosial words of wistful devotion as your hand searched into the waistband of his pyjama pants. Fingers would wind anxiously around his straining cock, sinking into old rhythms before he sank himself inside your beautiful cunt with a ragged gasp of your name-

Norns, no. Despite furtive efforts, Loki felt himself hardening beneath the silky cotton of his pyjamas. He cleared his throat, screwing his eyes shut, trying to think unsexy thoughts.

Steve Rogers in lingerie, he summoned.

Regrettably, the image was not as tragic as he had hoped. Cursing silently, he scooted away from the curve of your back. The loss of your touch was a rip. He felt you stiffen. Biting his lip, he considered his options. They were few. “I have something to confess, Agent I ” The words stumbled. “You’re getting aroused?” you questioned quietly. If Loki didn’t know better, he would think it was coy. He swallowed, fighting every urge simmering beneath his skin to gather you in his arms and ravage you in a mess of filthy groans and wet kisses. “Regrettably, yes.” he replied solemnly. There was a low giggle. “I would be insulted if you weren’t.” you added quietly. Loki found his hand slipping from its hold around your shoulders and beneath the sheets. “Excuse me while I just-” he muttered, adjusting his cock so it sat against the waistband of his pyjamas. The small touch was electric. Fingers lingered on a pulsing vein, dragging slowly across the delicate skin. Straight up, nestled tightly to elastic; thick and ready to fill her. No, Loki grit. Your hair brushed his forehead as you raised your head from the pillow, craning behind you to meet his eyes.

“Be closer,” you said softly in the darkness. Moonlight crackled in your irises, starlit perfection sent to test the very limits of his endurance. Loki felt his brows slant.

Cautiously his fingers grazed the curve of your waist. The pads of his digits sank against the flesh, velvet sand.Safe. “Are you sure?” he whispered. His breath hitched as you pressed back into him, his chin grazing the back of your head. He inhaled deeply, noting the smallest push of your ass into his crotch. “I’m cold,” was all you said. A small smile pressed against his cheeks, rustling your hair. He wondered if you could feel it. You always used to be so attuned to him. “We can’t have that,” he hummed resolutely in response. Loki felt you inhale sharply, his fingers sinking deeper into your skin. He released them, beginning to graze achingly slowly down the curve of your waist. Closing his eyes, he lingered every inch of its route down your ribs before meeting the dip.

The ascent was tortuous, the slight tremble of your muscles as his digits reached the peak. Loki didn’t think you were breathing.

His fingers ghosted over your hip, tips dancing circles against the skin so light they were almost invisible.

Your whole body shivered. “We’re not having sex,” you trembled unconvincingly.

Loki nodded, dragging his nose against the muss of your hair. “Absolutely,” he replied, holding in a groan. His cock was pulsing, nestled in the middle of your ass. He could feel the drag of your panties, every beat of his lust thrumming against thin pyjama pants. God, it was torture. And it was Valhalla. Your cheeks tensed against his throbbing manhood, a light push of your hips backwards making him release a whimpering sigh. He could see your fingertips grasp against the bed’s edge as his own trailed lazily over the curve of your ass beneath the sheets, down the side of your thigh, catching fine hair against his feather-light touch. Each breath felt like it shook your whole body as you tried to stay as still as possible. Your eyes were closed, memorising every grace of Loki’s long fingers as they danced across your skin in wisping patterns. Runes. The soft flesh sizzled, tickling zinging of nerve endings coming ablaze beneath his impossibly cautious touch. It was the most turned on you had been in your entire life.

His breaths were deep and quiet, the press and release of his solid chest against your back making wetness slide between your legs. You were desperate for him, fallen and utterly gone to anything but him.

And yet, as his martyred cock throbbed against your lower back – you conceded that this was no longer the Loki you had known.

Are you testing him, you thought. The uncomfortable realisation came like a bolt of lightening, timed with another miniscule roll of your hips. Loki released a ragged gasp.

The warm air flooded your ear. It filled your mind with memories of him fucking you gently over the edge in the Tower, the dirty moans and wandering hands while he rocked himself inside your pussy, emptying all he had to give.

You conceded that testing him would be beyond you right now. The urge to slip your hand between your bodies, curl your fingers around that perfect cock and set him alight with the power you held. If a girl finds herself in bed with Loki Laufeyson, you mused as you arched your back, pressing firm against the hard length pulsing against the t-shirt, some things are inevitable.

“Careful, Agent” Loki warned. There was a tremor in his voice you hadn’t heard before. “You might give me the wrong idea.”

“Is it wrong?” you said. Your bodies halted, words hanging in the air above your heads, “I don’t know-” he whispered.

Loki thrust gently. The smooth cotton of his pyjama pants did nothing to hide the ferocious power of the flesh which lay beneath. His length slid against your panties, pressing into the curve of your ass, the little knot of his ties catching on your t-shirt. You would bet good money there was a wet spot.

“Oh,” he moaned gently. It was the sweetest sound you had ever heard. “You’re keeping me warm,” you panted earnestly, as Loki’s fingers began to trail back up your thigh. Firmer, this time. “You’re keeping me..a-uh...warm.” The clenching was methodical now. Each tense of your thighs brought blood rushing to a pussy, plump and wet and mad for his touch. Loki was barely moving, every wave of his hips as they rolled against your ass achingly slow. His restrained, polite pants in your ear were electric. Like a public school virgin. The careful drag of his veined cock caught on the t-shirt you wore. His fingertips dug into your hip suddenly, a judder making Loki’s leg shake against yours. “If we don’t -s-stop, I’m going to...uh, c-cum,” he choked apologetically, accompanied by another devastatingly glacial thrust. “Don’t-” you replied, tapering to a small moan. “Don’t?” he gasped, as you craned behind to look into his eyes. His face was aglow in shards of moonlight, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow. That beautiful stare smouldered with an unplaceable intensity – his breathing shallow. Concern was awash on his features, wet lips parted as he looked at your with unbearable submission. “Don’t stop.”

There were no more words between you as Loki’s body curled to yours, hand shaking with the effort to keep his light touch steady.

His fingers twitched as he resisted the urge to pull you back against him, pull down the pyjama pants and sink you onto his cock. Pull aside your panties and touch you. How you wished he fucking would. The slow, trepidatious roll of his hips continued; each quiet gasp from his lips a melody. With a low groan, his stomach clenched against your back. You released a pant of his name, turning to see a profile you thought you’d never see again.

The god’s face was twisted in pained pleasure, deep lines carved into the expanse of his brow, damp curls winding across the skin. His lips were parted, eyes screwed shut and neck taut as he emptied himself against your back. The spurt of his cum slapped against your skin. He clenched to you, his legs twitching and thrashing against the tight bedsheets.

Loki’s thick tip had come free from its prison, the slick skin grazing your spine. Slow, staggered exhales of desire breezed your ear as he came undone; the thick roll of his seed beneath the t-shirt making it tingle.

Breathy melodies of of his low groans ebbed and silence fell.

Only the tapping of the ivy against the window rustled gently.

“There is something I must say to you,” Loki murmured in the darkness, his spent voice muffled by the mess of your hair. A cool wisp of magic between your bodies hummed. Your heart dropped, realising it signalled the removal of any remnants of...whatever this was. “But first I must understand it, you see.” Loki whispered. “It hasn’t quite...fallen into place.” He paused, palm sliding under the pillow below your cheek. He sighed quietly. You could hear the tiredness in his voice. “I cannot place it. Like a dream, twisting out of reach. A wisp of smoke. Too much has happened, too much-” he muttered. “Just be here, with me. Just for tonight.” you cut sadly, hoping it would quiet him. Loki squeezed the arm holding around your chest. His lips grazed your shoulder, hovering on the precipice. He released a breath he’d been holding against your skin. It sounded like a sigh, and perhaps it was.

“I know that cannot expect to cross the ocean between us.” Loki murmured so quietly you were surprised you heard it.

It sounded like a prayer. “Not an ocean,” you whispered, slurred by the sudden descent of sleep. Self-preservation you were glad of, at last.

Loki inhaled quietly as you continued, shuffling back against his crotch. Muscle memory. “-lake, maybe.” You hoped he could feel the quiet smile that twitched your cheek beneath his thumb. “A lake,” Loki repeated; feeling you drift into dreams in his hold. He hoped you were dreaming of him.

When Loki saw the seconds hand tick past seven am, he slipped cautiously from the bed. It had been a long night.

He pulled on the first thing he could find, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He grimaced, immediately swapping the beige jumper for a slightly less ghastly beige jumper.

Damn that Rogers, he mulled for the hundredth time this week before he cast a last lingering glance at you curled in his bed. Your hand hung off the side, your face tipped up, snoring gently. Loki smiled.

The door closed softly behind him, glancing to the still-closed entrance to his brother and Rogers room. What happened last night, he hoped, would remain a mystery. Loki picked his way down the stairs, careful of creaks. He needed time to think. To marinate. To review the events of last night, to think on the boulder which blocked his understanding. If he could only match the puzzle pieces which taunted him.

He had slept only in snatches, waking to every breathy moan from your lips and sleep-drunk squirm. Rather pleased with himself that he had navigated the rudimentary alert system of the stairs, he turned into the kitchen with a start. “Norns, brother” Loki gasped, gripping the door-frame.

Thor sat upright at the kitchen table, a mug of tea cupped between his meaty hands and a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. Loki tried to ignore him as his brother’s eyes followed his journey across the room. He plopped a teabag in the mug with the yellow bear, the sound of pouring from the kettle deafening in the eerie silence. Thor’s stare burned into the back of his head as he poured the milk.

I’ll bet that buffoon is still smiling, he thought. Loki stirred, tapping the side of the mug twice with the dulled spoon before placing it carefully down. He turned, unsurprised that his deduction had been correct. Thor still sat, smiling, watching, looking pleased with himself as his brother manoeuvred into the seat opposite him. “Sleep well?” Loki asked. “Not really,” Thor said with uncharacteristic cheer for this time in the morning. The smile didn’t falter. “You?”

“Not really,” Loki replied abruptly. They eyed each other. Loki didn’t like when his brother smiled like this. It almost always meant that he thought he’d gotten the better of him. Rarely, however, was he correct. “We didn’t have sex, if that was your plan.” Loki sniffed, picking up a buttered crumpet from the plate in between Thor’s elbows. He took a bite. “Right.” Thor said conspiratorially. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about, brother.” There was a pause. Thor sipped his tea, placing it down carefully before resting his chin in his palm. He blinked several times. “Did you...hear, anything, perchance?” “Not a thing” Loki lied. “Liar.” Thor smirked.

Loki adjusted his feet under the table, socks squeaking against the linoleum. “Where’s your newly minted ‘lover’, anyway then?” he snipped, running a fingertip around the mug lip.

He looked up, jaw set and cheekbones sharpened. “Captain Rogers,” he husked for emphasis, narrowing his eyes. His chin tilted, a silent ooo cutting the air between them.“I didn’t think he was your type,” Loki sneered, studying his brother’s face for tells. Thor shrugged, resting back in the chair which gave a malevolent creak. “People change, remember Loki?” Something didn’t add up.

“What was it then?” Loki snipped, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. “A foot-rub? A back massage? You can’t expect me to believe-” “Oh, brother.” Thor rumbled sagely, shaking his head. “So many questions. And yet…” He made a bursting gesture with his fingertips, milking the sparkles, before tapping the side of his nose.

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Is it time to go home yet?” he muttered into his tea.

If you didn’t know what had happened last night, you might have been forgiven for assuming everything seemed normal. There was the usual morning buzz in the cottage kitchen which you had become accustomed to. The smell of eggs and bacon had lured you from your morning cocoon, albeit after you had taken five long minutes to remind yourself what had actually happened in the darkness. Was it a dream? No. If it was, Loki would have fucked you senseless as you gripped the wrought-iron bedframe. But all the evidence that remained was a dried dark patch on the back of his t-shirt. Missed a bit Loki, you mused as you let it fall to the side with a sigh. Thankfully you still had the trousers you wore last night. For some reason, you decided to keep his t-shirt on. It was better quality than yours, you surmised, cum-stain or no cum-stain. Loki won’t mind, you thought optimistically as you tucked it in. He might like it.

Turning into the kitchen, you took a moment to absorb the tableau. Thor and Steve stood at the kitchen sink; Steve washing, Thor drying. They both wore devious smiles, meeting each others eyes nervously as each dish passed between them.

The captain noticed you in the doorway. “Good Morning, Agent” he said with a quiet nod. You returned it. “Morning, Agent” Thor piped, running the red chequered cloth through his fingers with a grin. “Quite the pair, aren’t they?” Loki drawled sarcastically.

He nudged a plate of food dismissively in your direction. You sat opposite him, frowning. He was fixated on the other men, analysing eyes mapping each unspoken word between them like a rifle’s scope. As the seconds passed, it became more unlikely you would be receiving the welcome you’d hoped. The Loki you remembered seemed to have re-appeared. Maybe all he needed was a sentimental dry-hump, you raged silently as you quickly ate a few bites. Running sweaty palms down your trousers, you stood. “Ready in ten minutes okay? Tent packs and all the other usual...stuff.”

All eyes in the kitchen fell on you. Loki looked up appraisingly through a fan of dark lashes, the heaviness of his stare making your stomach drop.

“Ten minutes,” you repeated coldly. ‘What was that?!’ you heard Steve hiss as you made your way up the stairs. ‘What was what?’ you heard Loki snap in response.

The hum of bitchy conversation continued as white noise.

You stood on the landing at the doorway to your decimated room with tears pricking your eyes, realising you had nowhere to go.

Loki watched you stride ahead, studying a superfluous map in your hands. You knew where you were taking them, it was just for show. But Loki could understand why you wanted to avoid conversation. Something was bubbling uncomfortably beneath the surface of his skin. Shifting beneath it like ants, like wet flour straining to exit a sieve. This morning he had clung to the mystery of his brother’s intentions as a mortal would to a life-raft. Avoiding something. But what? It moved whenever he tried to focus. And in the meantime, he’d hurt you again somehow. He’d seen it.

He grit his teeth, nerves flaming at the incessant wittering of hushed conversation behind him. “Will you both desist for one moment?” he growled, casting a scathing look back at his brother and Rogers. “We’re just talking,” Steve snipped in response. “Maybe you should try it with you-know-who.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Please don’t tell me my brother has woven you into his hair-brained charade, Rogers.” Steve chuckled, rubbing his chin. He paced several steps towards the god, eyes meeting before leaning forward to Loki’s ear. “Doesn’t seem so hair-brained to me,” he whispered covertly. “Maybe you should learn to relax a bit.”

Loki pulled away with a horrified frown as Steve’s smug smile widened. “You are telling me to-” The captain cast a glance to your disappearing figure further up the path. “Consider last night payback for Colombia,” he said, cutting in with a wink and slapping Loki’s shoulder before moving down the path at a jog. Loki folded his arms, watching Steve go as Thor sidled sheepishly beside him. “I don’t know what you see in him,” Loki said abruptly. “I don’t like him like this.”

Thor slid his arm over his brother’s shoulder, pulling Loki’s head beneath his chin. His fist mussed the top of his hair. “Get off,” Loki chided, pushing him away and smoothing his parting. “Come, brother” Thor said, his mirth-filled lilt making Loki want to trip him. “Tents require our erection.”

Autumn foliage set the lake view from the hillside aflame.

All around you was the rustle of wind against rock, the low calls of geese in the distance. The blondes had already laid their groundsheet and made a valiant effort at pitching the tent before Thor became trapped inside. You and Loki made headway with your own effort. The site you’d picked was challenging, as intended. But the chill that had descended over Loki made it more so. “Can we be reasonable about this?” you said quietly, eyeing Steve trying to guide Thor to the tent’s exit before looking back to him. Loki released the tent mechanism. It unfurled. “Just because I used to be your girlfriend doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me-”

“-You were never my girlfriend,” Loki snapped, lowering to secure the first loop. “You were my consort.” You stared incredulously while Loki’s eyes narrowed. “Commoners have ‘girlfriends’. Royalty have consorts.” he explained.

‘Did Laufeyson just call her a prostitute?!’ ‘No, Rogers. You’re thinking of escort. Or concubine.’ Thor paused. ‘We really should call it something else, you know…’ They looked up innocently to you and Loki staring at them. Both sat cross legged with the half-collapsed tent slopping to the side. “Don’t mind us,” Rogers drawled sarcastically, waving a hand before leaning it behind him. “We’re just having a conversation, same as you.”

He was very sassy today.

You turned back to Loki, folding your arms. “I know what you’re doing,” you snapped wryly. “You’re trying to up the dick-o-meter again because you were vulnerable with me. It’s not necessary, just forget it-”

Thor released an ill-timed here here. “Shut up, Thor-” “Oh am I?” Loki drawled, rolling his eyes. “Well, many thanks for your analysis, Agent. Now if you could just get back to your area of expertise-” he held up the tent-poles, tipping them towards you expectantly.

You swiped them, glaring as you took a deep breath.

“You’re going to have to move your tent about three feet to the left, guys,” you said to Thor and Steve while not breaking eye contact with your ex. “That boulder is an obstruction for the pole area at the side.” “Nonsense,” Thor muttered. He tugged off his bobble hat and unzipped his puffer jacket. Beneath, his chest was exposed. Steve’s eyes widened as Thor bent over to pick up the boulder with ease. There was a gasp from the right. The four of you snapped towards the noise. A man’s head and shoulders had become visible above the rocky plateau of the hillside. Silence fell as the man scrambled over the ridge; patting himself down as he observed Thor’s elevated boulder with amazement. Steve’s attention floundered back to the tent-poles, wiggling one against the ground. You looked pleadingly to Loki, but he was nowhere to be seen. Oh no, you thought.

“Good morrow, fellow nature enthusiast.” Somehow Thor’s attempt to sound like anyone but himself was the most Thor thing you had ever heard.

The man stopped in his tracks, squinting at the blonde casually holding a boulder. A breeze whipped Thor’s hair, billowing like spun gold around his shoulders. The puffer jacket blew wider, his glistening chest muscles reflecting the low autumnal sun. “Aren’t you?” “No. Definatley not.” Thor released a strained laugh, awkwardly fumbling for a hood that wasn’t there with one hand. In the other, the boulder wobbled. He patted his own back, spinning in a circle and knocking into Steve still looking busy with the tent.

“Watch it-” the captain hissed as the rock fell with a crump to the ground. It began to roll, and when Rogers looked up, the doe-eyed concern in his eyes couldn’t have been closer to his Avengers publicity shot if he’d tried.

The man looked between Thor and Steve with sudden panic – catching you out the corner of his eye. He covered his mouth, pointing as you began to pace towards him.

“Oh my god, oh my god” the man muttered, looking frantically at the sky. “Fuck, are there aliens? Am I gonna die? Is this ground zero?” “Hello friend,” Loki purred, appearing out of nowhere behind the hiker.

One hand slid over the bemused mortal’s shoulders while the other pushed the low hood from his face, uncovering that famously wolfish smile. The man’s catatonic stare became even wider as his gaze tracked from Loki’s chest to his eyes. He let out a girlish yelp.

“You’re-!” With one well-placed squeeze of Loki’s fingers at the top of his spine, the man fell with a graceless thump to the ground. “Loki,” Thor chided. Loki grimaced apologetically. “He went down too quickly, it was my intent to catch him.”

The four of them stepped closer, huddling around the unconscious body on the hillside. “He was going to blow us,” Steve said solemnly, hands on his hips. “It was for the best, thank you Laufeyson.” “You’re welcome?” Loki replied, smirking. He and Thor exchanged a knowing grin as you got on your hands and knees, working towards the passed out bystander.

You felt the man’s pulse, putting him in the recovery position and fishing in your rucksack for a blanket. “Well we can’t just leave him here,” you hissed, looking further down the hill. “What if he was with someone?!” “We’ll tell them he fell over,” Loki chirped. “Mortals fall over all the time.” Thor hummed sagely. “Tis’ true.”

He caught the menacing stare you threw him. “Well it is!” he added, offering a brisk nod to his brother in solidarity. You scrunched his discarded bobble hat in a ball and threw it at his face. “Put this on,” you spat – “you almost caused this guy serious damage with your stupidity. Just do what your told for once.” Thor’s face crumpled. He tugged on the hat, making sure all of his hair was tucked in. You rifled through the man’s pockets, finding a wallet. “Colin Robertson,” you hummed quietly. “What a boring name,” Loki piped. Thor elbowed him in the ribs, shaking his head. “We can’t leave him here, we need mountain rescue” you said as you stood.

The men looked between each other. “Heck no,” Steve gasped. “I’ll be darned if the Avengers have to enlist mountain-heckin’-rescue.” “But Steve, we’re not the Avengers.” you cut with air quotes. Steve’s mouth hardened. “Right.”

Loki sighed, rocking on his heels. “What if we transport the body, and dispatch him somewhere else?” “Kill him?!” “No not kill him, just...deposit him in a more salubrious location for our purposes.”

Thor frowned, resting a thumb beneath his chin. “How many pints of ale does it require to render a mortal man unconscious?”

“Enough!” you yelled. The three of them fell quiet. “One of you pick him up, one of you scout.” Thor and Steve looked at Loki. “Why must I carry him?” “You discombobulated him.” Steve said matter-of-factly. “Oh I see.” he snarled. Blood began to thunder in his ears. “And as recompense for my quick actions which heroically concealed your idiotic field trip to this blasted place, I must carry him like the humble pack-horse I am. Is that it?” Steve arched a brow. Loki’s vision blurred. He raked his hair, chuckling manically to the ground. The air suddenly felt electric.

“I see it now-” he said abruptly. Loki began pacing back and forth, two steps of his long legs towards Colin before he’d turn on his heel.

There was a crazed look in his eyes, his cheekbones popping with every work of his jaw. The open Barbour swung around his thighs, his cheeks flushed. His pupils were wide, dark curls falling over his brow like the sexiest mad professor you’d ever seen. “What do you-” “I see it now, I see it-” he repeated in velvet whispers, stopping. He held out his palms, brows peaking as he looked at them with fascination.

“It’s fallen into place,” he whispered. “Loki, what-” His eyes rose to meet yours, hard features softening under your worried stare. Loki let out another strained chuckle, brows knitting. “Why I’m afraid to be loved,” he said quietly.

Out the corner of your eye, you saw the blondes cover their mouths with a synchronised gasp.

Thor gripped Steve’s shoulder, his eyes beginning to water. They stared. Loki began to pace again, raking his hair away from his face. His lips kept parting and closing, trying to catch the thoughts buzzing in his mind like wasps. “Earthquakes in this realm, they have...aftershocks. Yes?” he stammered, stopping to look between the three of you.

“I struggled to place why the memories of our time at the cabin-with-no-place affected me so, brother-” he gazed at Thor, frowning. “But now I see it was the last time I felt...content. Safe. With no expectation or consequence. Nothing had yet been taken from me,” he murmured. Your heart skipped a beat, twisting and begging for you to run to him. His eyes were manic, voice trembling with wild curls playing against the wind. “No,” he whispered to himself; “that’s not true. I was content with…” he looked up at you. Thor and Steve glanced at each other with wide eyes, then back to Loki. Loki sighed. “Ever since our inaugurations, brother, I have been displaced. My anger, my jealousy, the void, the mind stone...my imprisonment, the deaths-” He turned away, looking out over the steep drop to the lake below.

“When I came to this realm, I was always waiting for another earthquake. Fighting against another aftershock, ready to shake my world apart once more. And when none came…” he trailed off. You could hear the thickness of his voice as he held back tears. “I created them.” It was unbearable. You walked forward, approaching like a horse you were trying not to spook. Fingers brushed the arm of his waxed jacket, urging him to turn. He spun slowly, looking at your hand resting on his arm, your eyes wide and worried. “I’m sorry,” he choked quietly. His eyes were swimming. And yours were, too.

“I was afraid.” he gasped, staggered. “Afraid of the rug being swept beneath my feet as it has so many times. Without my powers, my lineage, my supposed impenetrability...I thought I would be lacking. That you would think me lacking, as all else have.” He inhaled sharply, turning his face once more to the lake.

You heard Thor protest quietly at the last statement, thankfully cut short by a quick yank of the hat over his eyes by Steve. “It was safer to anticipate the ending. Distance myself. Harden myself with the tools which have helped me survive, become who I thought I was supposed to be-” Your hand slid up Loki’s cheek, combing past his temple.

“But I remember now, that is not who I truly am.” he whispered as a quiet tear squeezed from his outer lashes. “I realise, now, that is not who I want to be.” “And who do you want to be, Loki?” you murmured, shallow breaths making your chest rise and fall at alarming speed. He pressed his forehead against yours, warm breath ghosting your lips. “I want to be-” “-I hate to be a bellyache, but our friend is stirring,” Steve chirped nervously. You heard the grind of Loki’s teeth before his light touch on your forearms lessened. “Right,” Loki said, straightening. He smoothed wild hair behind his ears, popping the collar of his jacket. At some point, Thor had propped Colin against a rock. His head was lolling, mouth hanging open. But his fingers twitched.

There was a determination in Loki’s eyes. Suddenly, he seemed lighter. His hand slipped down your arm, toying with your fingers. “Shall we continue this later?” he whispered with a nervous smile. You nodded, returning it. Emboldened, Loki strode over to the limp mortal, catching him as he began to slide sideways down the rock. He lifted him with ease, propping him over his shoulders. “I can carry him, Loki-” Steve said apologetically, edging closer despite Thor’s grasp of his arm. “It’s quite alright,” Loki said, adjusting his grip around the back of the man’s thighs. He looked between the two dunces, smiling.

Thor's face fell.

“It will give the two of you time to work out one of those cunning plans you have such affinity for," Loki said.

Chapter Seven: Harvest - (final)

Tags @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @brittbax @smolvenger @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @megschaef98

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki imagine #loki x yn #loki x reader smut #one bed trope #loki odinson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki series

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astroph1les · 5 months

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this love | chapter three [h.c]

summary: the king and queen are away and the kingdom is yours to explore. you make a trip to town and a stop by a lake that tests your relationship with hazel. the night ends with a moment that will change your life forever.

pairing: hazel callahan x fem!reader

contains: angst, isabel just being the sweetest girl to exist, hazel opens up, mutual pining, it’s begun….

word count: 7K

a/n: i love them. that’s all.

this love masterlist

To say you were elated was an understatement.

You felt like your head was above the clouds as you woke up on your own the following morning. Your parents were gone and they would be for the next month. A month without them breathing down your neck about your princess-like duties, criticizing your every move, and comparing you to the one person you truly missed; your sister, Moira.

When your mother and father left the kingdom for tasks such as wasting their time searching for yet another prince for you to despise, they called off a vast majority of the staff to go back to their own homes back in town. A few guards and knights were the only ones other than you, Isabel, and Hazel were staying at the palace.

You knew the palace you lived in was quite big but when the people who took up so much space were gone, it suddenly became clear.

You sat up slowly from your sheets, stretching your arms upwards as you smacked your lips. It was strange to not have Mildred, Vivian and Beth come in to instantly begin to get you ready in the morning before you could even process being awake. You were still in your nightgown when you heard a soft knock come from the other side of the grand doors to your bedroom.

“Yes?” You call from your bed, raising your voice a bit louder so that whoever it was could hear you.

“Is it alright if I come in?” Isabel’s soft voice flows through the wood.

Your smile formed as you shouted for her to come in. You were getting out of the extremely comfortable bed that was tempting to fall back into when the doors opened. Your eyes widened when Hazel followed in after Isabel, somehow surprised that she was there.

“Good morning!” Isabel, sweet as ever, is the first one that speaks, already in one of her daily dresses.

Hazel’s eyes widened at the sight of you in your nightgown— your very see-through nightgown. She turned around as quickly as she had seen you.

“Princess, I’m sorry. I hadn't realized you were still…” She stumbled out an apology.

“Hazel, it's alright, really. I’ll be dressed in just a few minutes.”

Hazel simply nodded, remaining in silence throughout the duration of Isabel getting you ready. She kept glancing at you the entire time with looks that were confusing you. A smirk lingered on her pink lips but again, there were no words. Only glances between you and Hazel.

You and Isabel had landed on this rather beautiful simple white gown with a purple corduroy vest for a pop of color. Isabel had weaved half of your hair into a lengthy French braid while the rest flowed down your back.

You cleared your throat with a smile, staring at Hazel’s backside, and waited patiently for her to turn around. Once she did, she immediately began to apologize once again.

“Princess, again, I had no idea that you were still…” Hazel trailed off, raking her eyes up and down your body.

You flushed at her intense gaze, shaking your head.

“It’s alright. We’re all women.” You state plainly, shrugging your shoulders.

Hazel stared for a moment, a sudden silence and tension falling over the entire room. She nodded curtly before clearing her throat.

“Right. Well, is there anything you’d like to do today, princess?” Hazel spoke as if to distract from what had just happened.

You hadn't really thought about it. This newfound freedom without your parents was so riveting, you couldn’t decide what to do first. There were so many things that you had dreamed of doing without the precious king and queen breathing down your neck.

Now, it was really only Hazel that was on your every move but you didn't mind that much. You actually preferred it.

“I’d like to go into town.” You state with your full chest, staring at Hazel patiently.

Isabel’s head turned to you as her bright green eyes softened. Isabel’s family lived in town and she didn't get to see them as often as she liked so you could knock out two birds with one stone; your closest friend seeing her family and you being able to explore the town for the first time.

Hazel was hesitant. You could tell by the way her eyes widened at your words before she nodded.

“Of course, princess.”

As soon as those words left Hazel’s mouth, Isabel wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you into a tight hug. You copied her movements as you let out a soft chuckle.

“Thank you,” Isabel breathes out with a relieved sigh that makes your heartache.

“No need to thank me, Bel,” you release her to hold her hands, matching her excitement.

“Princess, I’m sorry to interrupt but if you’re ready, I could bring the horses around for you and Isabel.” Hazel stood still, eyes flickering between you and Isabel.

Isabel simply nodded, her thrilled smile making your morning.

“We’re ready, Hazel. Thank you.” Your smile matches Isabel’s as Hazel walks towards the bedroom doors to tug them open for you both.

You and Isabel interlock arms, the soft fabric of your long and flowy bell sleeves. Hazel nodded curtly at you both then lingered behind you both as Isabel gushed to you about how absolutely thrilled to see her mother and sisters. Once you all had made it outside, Hazel made her way to the stables quickly to grab Peanut and a soft brown horse for Isabel.

Hazel had one hand on each of their bridles as they trotted on either side of her as they crossed the courtyard. You and Isabel stand at the bottom of the steps, waiting patiently for her to approach you both with the horses.

“Peanut, hi!” You beam as his snout bumps into your hand. “You are just the sweetest.”

“He really likes you.” Hazel’s dimple appears from her small grin, a flush showering over your cheeks and chest.

“It might be my royal charm,” you joke as you scratch underneath his furry jaw.

Hazel nodded. “Of course. Who could resist your royal charm, princess?”

You could feel your heartbeat in your ears once she said that, freezing your hand on Peanuts’ jaw. Isabel’s arm released yours as she made her way to the other horse. You didn't miss her pursed lips and how she looked down at her flat shoes.

You let out a soft laugh before shaking your head.

“Thank you, Hazel.” Your laugh was awkward and you knew it but you focused on Peanut as you knew he couldn't make your cheeks spark a fire.

“Isabel, are you alright to ride the horse?” Hazel questioned the elated girl.

“Yes. I’ll be right behind you guys.” Isabel cooed the horse she was assigned before hopping onto the saddle.

Your eyes widened for a moment as you realized that you had never ridden a horse. Your excitement clouded your lack of horse-riding skills. You cursed the fact that your parents had banned you from the stables so that you wouldn’t smell like ‘peasants’.

They were so infuriating; even when they weren’t physically here.

“Wait, Hazel, I have never been on a horse.” You reach for her arm but then pull away, afraid she will reject your touch.

Hazel had two fingers gripped onto the bridle and stared at your hand that was retracting itself. You tucked it away into your other palm and cleared your throat.

“That’s no problem. I can help you, princess. Here.” Hazel held her hand out to you, her slightly calloused palm exposing themselves to you.

Your eyes glanced down at her hand and back up at her darling ocean eyes. You carefully take her hand, hoping you weren’t acting like her touch was terrifying. A part of you felt that it was for a reason that you couldn't quite describe.

You grab onto her palm, growing comfortable with the feeling as she guides you to Peanut’s stirrups.

“Now, it's quite easy. Put one foot in this stirrup and then place your hand right here,” Hazel placed your hand on the saddle, letting go of you for a moment, “for stability.”

You did as you were told, looking at her repeatedly to make sure you were doing everything correctly. Then came throwing your body up and on top of Peanut.

“Hazel, can you… help me?” You glance down at her insecurely, hating the idea of struggling in front of her.

“Hey, it's okay. You’re okay, princess.”

Hazel’s palm that had made its way to your lower back, steadying your shaking frame. You couldn't tell if you were shivering like a leaf because you were afraid that you were going to break a tailbone or her gentle touch.

Using as much upper body strength as you can, you throw yourself up and over the leather saddle, gasping when you make contact with Peanuts’ body. You hurriedly grasp for Hazel, your hands wrapping around her hand tightly.

“There you go. It’s alright, princess. See? You’re a natural.” Hazel was quick to reassure all of your troubled thoughts of falling off and accidentally cracking your skull open.

Isabel, too, began to tell you that you were doing great. You nod rapidly in an attempt to calm yourself down as well, slowly releasing Hazel’s hand. Your chest was rising and falling at a pace you weren’t aware that you were capable of.

“That was terrifying.” You breathe out but a smile forms on your face.

Peanut was as calm as ever as you adjusted yourself so that you could be towards his behind. There was no way you were going to be able to steer and manage leading the way for the beautiful horse. Hazel kept her hands out for a few more seconds just in case something happened suddenly.

Once she was sure that you were set, Hazel easily hoisted herself up and onto Peanut’s body. Your eyes were locked on the back of her head, wishing that you were able to see her sharp cheekbones and darling blue eyes once again.

“Are you alright, princess?” Hazel slightly pants out from the quick movements.

You nod, muttering a soft ‘yes’ as you reach your arms forward to wrap around her torso through her everyday knight clothing. You didn't even think about your actions removing your arms for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to.” You panic, rubbing at Peanuts soft fur as you could feel his warmth underneath. It was quite relaxing.

Hazel chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t mind, princess. I would rather you have your arms around me than you not.”

Your breath got caught in your windpipe, looking back at Isabel who was running her fingers through her horse's mane. If you listened closely, you could hear her whispering to the horse sweetly. You smile small at her before taking the chance once again and wrapping your arms around Hazel’s torso.

Was it wrong how you enjoyed feeling her toned stomach through the material of her clothing? It had to be. You shook your head at yourself as Hazel lightly kicked the side of Peanut's body to send him off to trot the three of you to the kingdom's town.

The small journey was breathtaking.

Once you all had passed the gates of the palace, it was as if you were entering a new world. Your eyes bounced from tree to tree, taking in the view of the panting-like sky and miles of fields that went past the horizon. Your smile grew with joy as you watched a few deers gradually make their way to a small stream for some water.

It was a baby and mother deer. Your heart ached at the sight of the sweet moment in nature. Yes, you knew it was quite odd to be so taken back by something as simple as this but this was the first time you’ve ever made it out of the palace on your own.

Soon, you were met with the sight of a few buildings along with a few shops. Your eyes darted from the few commoners that were walking along the stone walkways.

“Hazel!” You hear come from behind you and realize it's Isabel on her own horse right behind you two.

Hazel leaned back slightly to cause Peanut to come to a halt. Your gripped tightened around her waist at the sudden movement, a flush rushing to your cheeks. You had hoped it was just the sun’s bright rays beaming down onto you.

“Is everything alright?” Hazel asked Isabel as she and her horse maneuvered around Peanut to come face to face with the two of you.

“Yes. I just wanted to let you both know that I will be leaving the both of you to go and see my family just outside of town.” Isabel informed, her excitement written all over her bright features.

Your eyes softened at her, hoping that she’s able to see her family and have a wonderful time.

“We can meet back here at the entrance to the town by sundown. Not a moment later.” Hazel instructed Isabel, her tone becoming quite stern sending an unknown shiver down your back.The knight straightened her back before nodding her head and adding; “I hope your family is well, Isabel. The princess and I will stay here in town until then.”

Isabel’s eyes flickered to yours with slightly raised brows. You nodded as well, urging her to move forward. Without hesitation, Isabel taps her foot on the side of her horse as it galloped forward and past the bypassing townspeople.

“Look!” You point over Hazel’s shoulder at the market that was becoming more and more crowded by the moment. “Can we go to the market? I’ve never been.”

Hazel turns her head to the side, her cheek brushing past the perfectly sewed and mended fabric of your dress sleeve. Your reflexes kicked in and you pulled your arm back, the touch alone becoming too overwhelming for you. Maybe you should just keep them at her waist.

“As you wish, princess,” her tone was a bit more teasing this time causing you to smile to yourself.

After coming to a stop, Hazel hopped down from Peanut’s saddle to then hold her palm out for you to grasp onto. You carefully take her hand in yours, that previous fear of her disappearing for a moment. Peanut huffed and neighed a bit as you got down carefully.

You nearly slipped on the stirrup causing Hazel to reach forward to hold onto your waist. Your hands settle on her shoulders as you lean into her touch to help balance yourself.

“Are you alright, princess?” Hazel’s eyes followed your features all the way down to your ankles.

“Yes, I’m… alright. Thank you, Hazel.” You nod as you carefully release your grasp from her rather firm shoulders.

Hazel nodded curtly, her hands still on your waist for a moment before releasing you as well. Her hands flexed by her sides as she ran a hand through her deep brown hair. There was a sudden tension that made your head spin with confusion. You couldn't understand this feeling that has formed between the two of you.

“So, are you ready for the market?” Hazel hummed, scanning her area.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You state as you make your way forward into the unfamiliar town.

Just like inside the palace, Hazel lingered merely a few inches behind you. You curiously make your way to a table that was filled from edge to edge with a variety of necklaces with beautiful pendants. The vendor was a woman no older than thirty with a startled look on her face. Her dark purple and deep blue dress matched with her similarly patterned head wrap.

“Oh my, you’re the princess.” She spoke with a hand to her chest, eyes flickering to Hazel who was right behind her.

Before you could confirm, she bowed in your presence causing you to hold back your grimace.

“Whatever you like here, it's yours.” She rushed out, motioning to the many necklaces.

You were becoming overwhelmed by how anxious she was. You knew that your parents had installed this fear into the townspeople that they had to be at the royals beck and call. You couldn't understand how they gained so much pleasure from causing people to react like this.

“Thank you….” You trail off, hoping she would say her name.

“Beatrice.” The vendor— now known as Beatrice— nodded, her fingers clasping together nervously.

“Beatrice, thank you for the kind gesture but I tend to pay for the necklace of my choice if I so choose.” You insist, eyes glancing back and forth between Beatrice and the array of jewelry.

Your eyes lock on a gold pendant with a heart carved into the circle. Being gentle, you pick up the piece of delicate jewelry with a small smile.

“How much is this?” You question before turning to Hazel.

Hazel inches closer to you so that her chest was pressed up against the back of your arm.

“Yes, princess?” She asks you.

“Do we have any sterlings?” You whisper as you were suddenly aware you had no clue if you even had the coins to pay for it.

Hazel shook her head slowly, her face filled with guilt. Beatrice was about to tell you the price when you felt a hand tug on the skirt portion of your dress. You jump slightly when you realize it's a little girl; no older than five years old.

“Well, hello,” you chuckle softly at her long blonde hair and innocence-filled brown eyes.

“Excuse me, miss? My mummy says you’re the princess. Is that true?” She questions you, obvious doubt in her question. Her small arms cross over her burgundy clothed chest.

You turn to glance at Hazel with raised brows. Hazel had a hand on her hip where her holster was as she peered down at the child as well.

“Yes, I am the princess.” You nod to confirm.

Her eyes widened with excitement as she jumped up with a gasp.

“I’ve never met a princess before. Do you have a million dresses in your wardrobe?” She asked, running a tiny hand over the material of your dress.

“Maybe not a million but quite a few, yes.” You shrug your shoulders, your cheeks hurting from how much you were smiling.

“Ella!” You hear from a distance, watching a woman who looked almost identical to the little girl emerge from the crowd of townspeople.

“Mummy, you were right! She is the princess!” Ella shouts to her mother who came to scoop her up from the ground right next to you.

Ella gripped onto her mothers shoulder, eyes locked on you still wide with admiration. The woman, much like Beatrice had been, looked rather afraid than anything as she began to apologize to you.

“I apologize, princess. She ran off when I wasn’t looking a-and—“

“There’s no need to apologize.” You shake your head and wave at Ella who waves back with a dimpled grin.

“I want to be a princess when I grow up,” Ella sighed as she leaned her head on her mothers shoulder.

The sentence caused a sudden wave of sadness to flood over you. You wished you could tell her it isn’t as elegant as everyone may make it out to be, that the only redeeming quality was an empty home. Her big doe eyes that held so much life melted your aching heart. It was clear her mother cares for her as she caresses the back of her golden hair and kisses it gently.

Something you missed in your own life.

“With your beauty and curiosity, Ella, you’re already a princess.” You brush a piece of her flyaway hair with a soft smile.

She beamed at your words, her dimple deepening into her skin.

“We’ll leave you be now, princess.” Her mother sent you a gentle smile as she turned on her heels to walk back into the crowd.

You watch her disappear between the bodies and turn back on your heels to face Beatrice and Hazel.

“I apologize but I don’t think I’ll be purchasing the necklace. Perhaps another day, Beatrice.” You shake your head simply, hoping she understood.

“Oh, well, that’s alright, princess. You have a pleasant rest of the day.” Beatrice nodded with a more bitter smile.

You frowned slightly before you felt a hand escorting you away by your lower back. You knew it was Hazel by the way she handled you.

“You were quite kind to that child.” Hazel spoke up as she released your back to now walk beside you as you continued to stroll through the busy town.

“Oh, that was nothing really,” you glance at her, missing the sight of her face.

“No, it was… admirable, princess. Don’t do that.” Hazel shook her head as she avoided your gaze, eyes locked forward.

You furrowed your brows before asking: “Don’t do what?”

“Minimize your kindness.” Hazel stated as if it was obvious.

Was that a compliment? You wondered to yourself.

“You really think it's admirable?” You question Hazel, hoping that you didn't sound as desperate as you did in your head.

Hazel stopped in her tracks to turn to look at you in disbelief. You sucked in a deep breath as people passed by you but you felt as if the world had gone still as soon as Hazel did. The rest of the townspeople became a blur when her eyes were on yours.

“Do you really think so little of yourself, princess?” Hazel asks you, her tone matching her expression.

The question had stumped you. You shake your head and continue to walk forward, leaving her question unanswered. In a way, you felt exposed for how easily she was able to see right through you.

“I think we should stop by the bookshop.” You clear your throat as you try to divert the conversation.

Hazel sighs as she tries to reach for your wrist but you only pick up your pace, noticing that sudden movement. You spot a wooden sign with the word library carved into the deep oak wood. You knew it was quite childish of you to do but you went ahead into the bookstore. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind Hazel was following right behind you but you looked back anyways just to reassure yourself she was still there.

Hazel’s gaze locked with yours but quickly diverted to the shelves. The rest of your time in the bookstore and the town was silence between the two of you and as much as you hated to admit it; it pained you.

You could tell that Hazel was trying to be respectful and keep her distance. You didn't want distance anymore.

In the midst of you examining a few carrots you wanted to get for Peanut, you hear Hazel speak up form behind you.

“Are those for Peanut?” Her voice was careful.

You tilt your head slightly before shrugging your shoulders. “Yes. I assume he needs to eat.”

You grab at the orange vegetable, grabbing a few from the vendor. You had arranged to have the coins delivered to him the next day as you didn’t have the sterlings on you.

“Come on. I actually have something I’d like to show you if you allow me to, princess.” Hazel was getting tired of the silence and wanted to know that you weren’t angry with her.

You nod kindly at the older man vendor before turning to Hazel. Her expression was silently pleading for you to come along.

“Alright, Dame Callahan,” you motion her to walk forward, a smile curling onto your lips. “Lead the way.”

Hazel’s tense shoulders relaxed at your own smile, replacing her weary features to a more calm state. The two of you began to walk back to where Peanut was being held near the entrance arch. You beamed at the horse as you held the end of the carrot to Peanut’s snout watching as he ate the vegetable.

“What did you have to show me?” You turn to Hazel who was caressing the side of Peanuts body.

“It’s on the outskirts of the town. It’s a few miles into the forest.” She hesitantly suggested, eyes flickering between you and the dark horse.

That could be an adventure, you tell yourself. This silent tension between you two has got to pass and this could be an opportunity to fix your stubbornness.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” you smiled softly at her.

Her eyes shone with relief and your heart clenched at the noticeable difference in her attitude towards you. She held her hand for you to help you backup onto Peanut to venture into the forest past the town. You got onto the saddle a lot easier than the first time, Hazel following your movements to straddle Peanut. Her hands grip onto the reins as she taps her foot against Peanut’s ribs to send him off.

You turn around with both of your arms around Hazel’s torso to watch the town shrink as the distance grows. Subconsciously, you lean your head forward to rest on her upper back and shut your eyes as you listen to her heartbeat. It was pumping fast with adrenaline, matching the way her ribs flared in and out as she breathed.

The fresh summer breeze brushed past your hair, cooling the back of your neck.

“Comfortable?” Hazel turned her head to ask you, raising her voice.

You nod, lifting your head up with a blush. A little too comfortable, you thought to yourself feeling embarrassed for doing such a thing. Hazel chuckled to herself, the feeling of her ribs expanding causing you to laugh softly as well.

You became distracted as you noticed a bridge came into view. It was a few feet across but underneath was only a portion of a lake that stretched more than fifteen acres across. You had no idea how deep it was but it was a beautiful sight. The way the suns’ rays bounced off of the water and the surrounding grass highlighting the body of water. A few weeping willow trees dangled its leaves from above the bridge, sort of hiding the bridge if you looked at it at a certain angle.

“What is this place?” You question with a smile.

Hazel tugged back on the reins and Peanut came to a halt. She hopped down from the horse with a grunt, flipping her hair out of her face before reaching out for your hand.

“It’s much better up close.” Hazel assures you, looking out to the lake.

You reached for her grasp with a soft chuckle, peering out at the lake as well with admiration. As soon as your flats hit the dirt, Hazel began to tug you forward towards the bridge. Holding her hand so comfortably like this felt like breaking the rules. Excitingly breaking the rules.

The two of you approached the old bridge, the rickety wood squeaking underneath your footsteps. Hazel released your hand to place her hand on the beam that was separating you and Hazel from the water. You peer out at the water in awe.

“This is where my father would take me as a child if we weren’t training until my muscles ached.” Hazel admitted. “He said it reminded him of my mother.”

You furrowed your brows at her words, brushing your flyways out of your face.

“Your father has been a part of our kingdom for so long. He never mentioned you or your mother. Where is she?” You questioned softly.

Hazel sucked in a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with you. “She passed when she gave birth to me. I come here to think about her and how much my father would talk about her.”

Your heart ached at the thought of Hazel coming here alone when she was missing her mother. Knowing she has felt sadness and sorrow and had to deal with the ache of never knowing her mother that her father spoke highly about.

“Hazel,” you reach for her hand, rubbing your thumb over the back of her knuckles. “I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m sure your mother would be so proud of you and how great of a knight you’ve come to be.”

Hazel glanced down at your hand on hers, pulling it away slightly which caused you to pull away completely. You’re making her uncomfortable, you scold yourself.

“Thank you, princess,” Hazel gave her a quick smile before peering out into the water.

“Of course.”

A beat of silence falls over you before you speak up once again: “I’m sorry for the way I reacted in town. It was… immature of me to do.”

Hazel shook her head. “I could tell I had made you uncomfortable before. When I had asked you that, I meant… I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Your heart was trying to escape from your chest as you hesitantly asked: “How do you see me?”

You were leaning your back against the beam of the bridge, looking at her as you patiently waited for the answer. Before Hazel could even fathom answering, you hear a crack come from behind you. You fall backwards from the bridge as your body hits the cold water. You feel water flood into your ears and nose and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe. You knew how to swim, you were just overwhelmed and surprised by how easily that bridge broke.

How old was that bridge?

A few seconds passed and you hear another body hit the water. Two arms wrapped around your frame and you were being tugged through the water. You feel your head immerse from under and a cold breeze hits your cold face. You could hear Hazel panting and grunting as she frantically lifts you out of the water and back onto the land.

Your body felt weak as you could still feel water up your nose as you began to cough harshly, a slight burn bubbling in your throat. Hazel lifted you up and out of the water and laid you down onto the grass patch not too far from the bridge.

“Princess, are you hurt? C-Can you breathe?” Hazel patted the side of your wet cheek with her palm and pushed your soaked hair out of your face.

You groan softly as your coughing dies down.

“Talk to me, please.” Her tone was begging as her warm palms cupped the sides of your cool face.

You knew you should say something, anything but you can’t help but laugh. The laughter sort of spills out of you as you take in that you actually accidentally fell off of a bridge.

“Are you… laughing?” Hazel seethes as she removes her hands from your skin.

“I just— I fell off a bridge.” You express as you point to the now split piece of wood. “Into a lake.”

Hazel looks at you in disbelief. Your laughter dies down as you take in her very obviously infuriated with you. You sit up slowly to come face to face with her. Hazel backs up from you and stands to her feet.

“I think it’s time to head back to town to meet up with Isabel. The sun is going to set soon.” Hazel brushes off her grass-ridden wet clothing as much as she could.

“Hazel, it’s okay,” you begin before you realize why she may be angry. The bridge. Her father’s bridge. “If this is about the bridge, I’ll have someone come and fix it—“

“I think we should head back now, princess.”

You nod slowly as you stand on your feet, getting the hint that she wasn’t in the mood to talk right now. You had messed up. Why did you have to laugh? You thought this would fix the tension, not increase it.

You didn't even want to hold onto her out of fear that she wouldn’t allow you to. That is until you felt a hand grip onto yours and wrap around her torso as soon as you had hopped on.

The entire ride back to town was uncomfortable as you were both dripping from head to toe in lake water and Hazel had not spoken to you the entire way.

No check up. No ‘comfortable?’. Nothing but silence.

Once you two had arrived in town, there Isabel was at the entrance just as you had agreed on. Her eyes locked on your wet figures, her brows furrowed in worry.

“What happened?” Isabel asked in worry as she maneuvered her horse to walk beside Peanut.

“I fell into a lake. I’m okay.” You wave her off as you tilt your body to take a glance at Hazel.

She kept her gaze straight ahead, jaw locked tightly as she kept Peanut at a slow pace. Isabel’s eyes silently asked you why Hazel was so silent now. You, again, shake your head as you would explain to her later after you arrived back at the palace.

Isabel nodded at you before keeping her horse at a steady pace. You were dreading the conversation that was going to happen when you arrived at the palace.

What were you going to do?

Hazel maneuvered Peanut to the stables, Isabel following. Hazel swung over and off the saddle as her soggy boots hit the gravel ground that was just outside the stables. You were a bit relieved to see her still holding her hand out to help your stability. You take her cold and damp hand into yours, glancing behind you at Isabel who was taking the horse back to his stable.

“Hazel, can we talk? In the garden, please?” You mutter softly.

Hazel released your hand as her eyes locked with yours. She was still angry but her brows relaxed as she nodded.

“Let me put Peanut back in his stable. It should only take a moment.” Hazel weakly grinned as she hooked her fingers onto the reins and led the horse back into the stables.

Just as she disappeared, Isabel came from the opposite side. She sped walked up to you with a worried expression.

“Is everything okay between you two? I thought you guys were friends.” Isabel questions softly, a hand taking yours.

“I don’t know. I’m going to try and make it better.” You tell her lowly, tilting your head to make sure Hazel wasn’t coming. “I’ll tell you more about it in the morning. Goodnight, Bel.”

Isabel nodded as she squeezed your hand three times: “Goodnight.”

Isabel walks past you and to the entrance of the palace, the knights there opening the doors for her. Hazel emerged from the stables, shutting the heavy doors behind her before motioning to the direction of the garden.

“After you,” Hazel said with a tight lipped smile.

You walk briskly to the garden, eager to get some privacy as you were itching to know why she was so angry with you. Hazel was right behind you, her footsteps and wet boots making an obnoxiously loud squeaking sound.

As soon as you walked through the stone archway, you turned to Hazel suddenly. She stopped in her tracks and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Why are you upset with me?” You question, hands clenched by your sides.

Hazel blinked at you: “what?”

“Don’t do that. I can tell, okay? You were being short with me and have ignored me the entire ride back, Hazel. I want to know why.” You express desperation and begging in your tone.

Hazel remained silent. Her mouth opened but no words left her mouth.

“I understand if you’re angry with me because I broke the bridge. It was an accident but I know it meant a lot to you. I will send someone out there to mend it first thing in the morning.” You rush out, walking towards the fountain.

“I was afraid.” Hazel mutters out.

If you hadn’t been so attentively listening, you would’ve missed it. You turn around sharply to face her. She had a pained look on her face and a hand on her hip.

“Afraid?” You question.

Hazel sucked in a deep breath and let out a shaky breath. “When you fell into the water, I never felt that amount of fear in my entire life. I thought that you had hit a rock and broken a leg or worse.”

“Hazel, I was okay. I am okay.” You express gently as you inched closer so that your faces were centimeters apart.

“Well, you couldn't have been. I’m supposed to be protecting you and if something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t…” She trailed off and licked her drying lips. Your eyes were pouring into hers as the moon light lit up the side of her face beautifully, highlighting her watery eyes. “I care about you, princess. I don’t think you understand how much.”

Your eyes flicker down to her lips and back up to her eyes.

“I asked you before I fell ‘how do you see me’, what were you going to say?” You whisper out as if you spoke at any higher volume it would ruin this moment.

“Princess,” Hazel whispers back with begging in her voice, squinting her eyes as if it pained her to look at you.

“Please tell me,” you reach for the side of her face shakily, hoping she won’t push you away.

Hazel’s hand found your wrist and squeezed gently, shaking her head. You lean forward as your noses brush against each other. Hazel nudges her nose against yours with a sigh.

So close.

“I can’t,” she mutters.

“Why?” You beg, running your thumb over the apple of her cheek.

Hazel’s eyes flickered from the top of your head to the bottom of your chin before releasing your wrist. She takes your face between her palms and pulls your lips against hers. You gasp against her mouth, letting go of her face out of shock.

She was kissing you.

The feeling of her lips only yours surged electricity up your spine and into your head. You froze completely as no one had ever kissed you before. Let alone a woman. Before you could kiss her back, Hazel pulled away quickly and stepped back a few feet from you.

“Princess, I-I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry. We can pretend like this never happened.” Hazel put her hands out, shaking her head in obvious distress.

“I can’t do that.” You whisper as you ghost your fingers over your flushed lips.

“Yes, we’ll just have to. It’s entirely unprofessional and something that—“

“—I want,” you finish her sentence as you inch towards her once again.

Hazel’s chest was heaving up and down as she tilted her head in confusion. You weren’t rejecting her; calling her disgusting or unnatural. You wanted this just as much as she did.

Hazel grabbed you by your arm and tugged your body into hers, locking your lips once again. She hummed against your lips as you followed her pace carefully. You wanted her to consume every part of you. This is what you had been wishing and aching for from the moment you met.

“Promise you won’t ignore me after this?” You whisper against her lips as you pull away.

Hazel huffed out a laugh with a shake of her head. Her hands were running up and down your almost completely dry dress. Your hands were tracing the bottom of her throat, wishing you could have every inch of her in your palms.

“I could never ignore my princess.”

You shyly avoid her gaze, a blush taking over your damp cheeks. Hazel gently pecked your lips once again before lifting your chin up with one hand.

“Your princess.” You state softly, adoring the title more than you ever imagined you could.

“In due time, I hope.” Hazel shrugs her shoulders, her smile growing.

“Would that make you my knight?” Your smile matches her own, tilting your chin down into her grasp.

Hazel traces your bottom lip with her thumb delicately: “if you so wish. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Will you join me in my room tonight?” You whisper breathlessly.

Hazel grinned at you, something familiar sparkling in her eyes before releasing your body from hers. You step back carefully, watching her every move like a hawk. Hazel’s eyes pointed toward the doors with raised brows, knowing you would understand.

You made your way past her towards the door with a pressed lip smile. Hazel was hot on your trail as the two of you entered the palace. You peer down both sides of the long hallways, not a single person in sight.

You grabbed her hand into yours with a devilish grin, tugging her along to follow you. She allowed herself to get dragged by you through the seemingly never ending halls of the palace. Your overjoyed laugh echoed down the halls as the adrenaline fled rushed through you.

Hazel shushed you gently but she, too, was giddy with joy. She just never thought it would be here with a princess; her princess.

Once the two of you approached your grand bedroom doors, you tugged the heavy doors open with Hazel with slight struggle. You entered your room with a soft sigh, shaking your head as you forced the doors shut. Hazel pushed you up against the hardwood with a soft thump as she kissed you once again, more eager for you. Your hands weaved into her hair with a shaky breath, arching into her hands.

“Princess, we’re going to have to head to bed soon. If I continue kissing you, I don’t think I’ll be able to resist you for much longer.” Hazel muttered against your lips.

You nod slowly, agreeing with her. You had a month to be with her like this. Four weeks time to enjoy every second of every day with her without disruption.

“There’s no rush,” you assure her, nudging her nose against yours with a sigh.

Hazel pecked your lips once before turning her head to look at your still unmade bed from the morning. It was strange to see but it felt more like a bedroom that you lived in than just a room in the palace.

Hazel grinned at you with a sigh.

“No rush.”

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