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softboo · 2 days

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love me, ever so gently - part III

pairing: austin x reader

summary: you recently moved to a new apartment, making some new eccentric friends along the way. but what you didn't expect was falling in love with a stranger. a stranger you somehow couldn't stop thinking about

words: 2.3k

warning: depictions of alcohol, dark themes of domestic abuse in relationships, *minors please don't interact*

author's note: hii here's part III of the story!! this one was a lot of fun to make omg and it wasn't even supposed to go this way at all... it kinda just happened lmfaoo. i'm already writing the next part heh. but yeah, it truly means the world to me that you guys read these stories. like it really warms my heart, so thank you. hope you enjoy <3

previous part // next part coming soon...

part III

"he's being abused cassie," you wanted to be straightforward on the topic, especially with how delicate the issue was. you thought she would say something, but she paused. like the weight of your words were slowly sinking in. the realization and the possibility landing right in front of her.

you were just afraid she wouldn't see it.

and she didn't.

"sweetie, what makes you say that? he seems fine."

for the past few weeks, austin started attending more events. the cooking class being one of his favorites. you no longer sat with him anymore, feeling awkward every time you spoke to each other. the silence became so deafening that you soon changed partners. but a part of you always seemed to wonder how he was doing. if he had any new bruises. if he was still healing from past injuries. if his pain was still there.

and if he was genuinely okay.

from someone who knew nothing, like the rest of your friends, he seemed to be doing amazing. and he was pretty good at keeping that front up.

maybe he found a way to put his guard up even more after you.

you all were spending dinner in the kitchen; evelyn taking her proper position as cook, insisting on making everything by scratch. it took a long time to convince her that george was there to help and when she did accept, he never left her side. making sure she had every ingredient ready.

he genuinely looked like he was a cook working for the head chef, but you and cassandra both knew he was mainly doing it for the food.

"i promise you cassie, he's not okay."

"if he wasn't okay dear, then why is he coming here to spend dinner with us?"

your eyes widened at the news, which made cassandra smile.

"you invited him?" panic started to rise up to your throat, "but why?"

"george invited him because his girlfriend is out of town for two weeks. he's going to be alone and no one deserves to be alone at a time like this."

you gritted your teeth, the thought of seeing him again after so long and now he was spending dinner with your friends made you feel slightly uncomfortable by the idea. not because you didn't want to see him, but moreso because your heart was so desperate to talk to him again.

"cassie, his girlfriend is the problem. he's probably so excited that she's gone, which is why he's attending more events."

"my love, listen to me." she took your hands from across the table, eyeing you with such intent and comfort that she let out a sigh.

"you know why i don't believe you?"

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not knowing where she was going with this.

"because i know how you feel about him," she waited for your reaction, but all you did was blink at her. "let's say this is true, the girlfriend is an abuser, then what?"

"then we help him right?"

"sure dear, but you need to ask yourself if you're doing that because you care about him or because you like him."

you bit your lip. why did there have to be a difference? you can care about someone right?

"and if it's the latter, you need to wait and see if he'll reach out to you. because again, he is taken."

that last part stung because it was true. some little part of your heart thought that maybe, just maybe, if he left his girlfriend, you could come in and be everything he deserved.

but it wasn't that easy. and he wasn't single.

"elvis my boy!! elvis is in the building!!" george exclaimed as austin arrived, wearing a black suit blazer. his blonde hair was styled in a way that looked messy, but accentuated his curls. and his eyes had oceans again, overflowing with life.

but what got you was his smile. he looked genuinely happy, embracing george into a tight hug. something george wasn't used to since he was always the one initiating, but he was all for it.

and for the first time, you doubted yourself and your theory. maybe cassandra was right.

maybe he really was okay.

austin went around to evelyn, who soon grew fond of him as her little cooking mentee. austin learning dinner dishes to desserts from all the classes he attended.

"the food smells lovely evelyn," his lower tone enveloped your heart and you hated how much he really did affect you. evelyn thanked him for his kind compliment.

"austin come and sit, the table is already made." cassandra offered the chair next to you and you panicked once more.

"hi again," his voice was smooth as he maneuvered his way around you to sit at the chair on your left. something about his tone and the way he held himself now felt like he was a stranger to you. like the guy you met before wasn't him at all.

or maybe a part of you saw him as broken and thought that you could be the one to fix him.

but your heart still stuck to that possibility. that this was all a front somehow. but you had no real reason to follow that thought. all you had was that pull on your heart.

"i like your suit," you gave him a weak smile as he thanked you kindly, pressing against the little wrinkled areas and loosening his jacket and tie.

"i just came back from dropping my girlfriend off at the airport so... i'm all yours for two weeks." he exclaimed, leaning back in his chair. your heart fluttered when he said that, but you knew it wasn't what he really meant.

evelyn and george placed the food on the table, a beautiful dinner feast for all of you. cassandra followed suit with the rest of the desserts as george popped up from his chair, running to get something.

"we forgot the wine!" he screamed from the hallway, hobbling back with two bottles. he eagerly poured an outrageous amount of wine in everyone's glass, left standing to offer a toast.

"to our new friend elvis," his toothy grin wide and proud as everyone raised their glass too. austin getting flustered as he tried to turn down the compliment, but evelyn insisted.

"and to my first cooking mentee, who i am so proud of," evelyn added, squeezing austin's cheeks. he laughed and you weren't sure why that sound hurt you.

you were the last to raise your glass as everyone cheered.

something about him being a part of the group should be celebrated, but you didn't know why it felt so painful. why him being a part of your life was hurting you.

or why him being happy killed you.

maybe because you wanted to be a part of that in his life, but knowing you couldn't be.

by the time you were done flooding yourself with all your conflicting thoughts, the dinner ended and all that was left was the chocolate cake in the center of the table. and you, picking at the icing with your fork.

you didn't remember anyone saying goodbye though, which made you feel even worse. you weren't exactly sure how much wine you drank either, considering your glass was empty. but you could've sworn it was full just a few minutes ago.

and then you saw him, coming back to your table. his blazer long gone and just his white dress shirt underneath. he looked disheveled but in a good way. something that showed he had a good time with his friends, which he did. he just wasn't sure if he remembered all of it.

"you want to bring the cake upstairs?" his voice felt like a blanket around you.

you looked at him with such confusion because... why would a kitchen have an upstairs?

"upstairs? why am i going upstairs?"

"because you need to go to bed."

"but i don't want to go to your apartment."

and his cheeks flushed red at your firm decision, feeling suddenly embarrassed for what you assumed. he did offer his arms for you to hold onto though, but you were hesitant to take it.

"i'm taking you back to your bed."

you sat there quietly, like you were debating whether or not to trust him. but you couldn't feel your legs so you had no other choice. and he smiled at you as you sat there and contemplated.

it wasn't long until he made the first move, wrapping his arm around your waist to hold you up while the other hand made sure you draped your arm around his shoulder. it felt like you were floating off the ground, either you were so far gone now or he was a lot taller than you thought.

when you reached the elevator, he struggled with keeping you upright, multiple failed attempts along the way of you falling forward, which made him almost lose his balance. it was like trying to walk without knowing where to go and not feeling the ground beneath you.

austin finally made it to your door as he tried to fumble through your bag for your key, while you nodded off for a split second. he kept one hand on your head, placing you as close to his chest as possible so you wouldn't fall over again, which made you blush immensely. your arms limply fell around his neck and he didn't mind at all, not even reacting to the way you fit right into the crook of his neck. your face surrounded by the smell of his cologne and little wavy pieces of his hair. you wished you could stay here forever.

"you smell really nice austin..." your words slurring with wine in your breathe. "can i have your cologne?"

"of course you can."

he couldn't help but laugh, which felt like a sympathy in your ears.

he finally found your key, opening the door for you. he slowly let you move first as he followed suit, trying to hold on to the sliver of soberness he had left in him.

it wasn't until you saw your living room that you excitedly left the comfort of his arms and screamed at your furniture.

"oh my gosh... YOU HAVE THE SAME APARTMENT AS ME!!" you squealed, turning back around to pull him into a hug, almost knocking him back outside. he held you for a moment, convincing himself that this was the alcohol talking.

this was just the wine.

"we're in your apartment love," he remarked and you let go all of a sudden and he felt the emptiness with it.

"oh."

your voice sounded so heartbroken that he almost felt bad for smiling at you.

"then why are you in my apartment?"

"because i need to make sure you get to bed okay." the alcohol still wavering a bit in his balance as he tried to maneuver you towards what he assumed was your bedroom. and he assumed correctly.

"i can do it on my own." you protested, finding your bed covers. you felt the softness of your blanket before you collapsed onto the bed, letting out a long awaited sigh. your eyes closed as you tried to ignore him. him and your overly excited heart.

"do you want to change first?"

you perked your head up and suddenly felt the room spinning. you were adament in saying yes, but you couldn't move your legs again.

"go away. i can do it by myself." you whined, slowly getting up and then collapsing on the floor, giggling.

austin just looked at you, holding in a laugh. you tried to push him out of your room and it actually worked, but only because he fell over outside.

"and you stay outside until i'm done." you ordered, your voice stern but slurred.

getting dressed drunk was probably one of the most difficult tasks you had to do at this very moment. and you haven't drank like this since college so you were mixing which part of your shirt was meant for your arm and your head.

by the time you finally had yourself dressed, you opened the door to see austin lying on the ground. his eyes closed, sound asleep.

"austin..." you whispered, crouching over him. the alcohol making you see double for a moment before using the floor to ground you. "austin, you can't sleep here."

he fluttered his eyes open as he gazed back at you. oceans engulfing you in endless waves. his hair all messy now as he just looked at you with such intrigue. it was so inviting.

he was so inviting.

you could've done anything, but you couldn't. you knew you couldn't.

but he was just laying there, gazing up at you like he's never seen you before. like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

you wanted to caress his cheek, play with his hair, tell him he could stay.

but you couldn't.

it broke your heart that you couldn't have him. that he was with someone else.

you mustered enough courage, enough strength for the both of you, and whispered ever so softly to him.

"thank you for taking care of me..." your words blending into each other, feeling as if you were so far away from him.

and without thinking, you let your hand fall on his cheek, moving the little strands of hair that fell onto his face. like it was something natural that you've done for years.

and he closed his eyes to your touch.

you started to tear up, pulling everything you had left in you just to smile at him. that somehow he needed reassurance for your heartbreak.

"your girlfriend is so unbelievably lucky to have you austin," your voice breaking at the end, wanting to so desperately do something. do anything.

but all you did was collapse on the floor next to him, your body feeling limp from all the alcohol. he hardly moved from where he was, your words sinking slowly into his chest.

the weight of everything settling into him.

and for the first time, you were the reason why his oceans went dry.

#austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler #fic writing #romance fiction #first fic #fuck i hate him so much

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violet-eng · 4 hours

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Fem!reader married to a Neuvillette who loves not her but someone else | NSFW 🔞 + 😢

In this one I'm going out on a limb, because I presume without any argument other than my own intuition, that Neuvillette and Focalors had a platonic relationship with feelings never confessed out of fear or genuine ignorance of them (like Violet Evergarden, yes). But you are Neuvillette's wife and so you will fall victim to his coldness when Focalors dies.

Includes NSFW with the reader and angst. Never mistreatment because Neuvi is a gentleman. NOTHING BETWEEN FOCALORS/FURINA AND NEUVI NONONO

⚠️ Warnings: established relationship between Neuvillette and reader, implied cheating, unloving and unprotected sex, pregnancy, sex during pregnancy, mentions of masturbation. Mentions of death. More sex between spouses bc yes.

mndi, if you feel unconfortable reading this then don't. Your mental health is first.

6k words, not edited.

💧💧💧💧💙💙💙💙💙💙💙🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️🔹️💧��💧💧💧💙💙💙💙🔹️🔹️🔹️

You had seen him crestfallen the last few weeks, after the flood, self-conscious in his own thoughts, drowning in his remorse and cowardice.

Neuvillette does not understand human feelings, not at all, though love is supposed to be a passion that transcends the natural laws of evolution. Focalors had been his friend, his companion, in the bruised body of a puppet that felt so real that its strings seemed invisible.

There was no denying the deep affection that had grown between the two, Neuvillette and Focalors, two wandering souls, roaming the world with ancestral antiquity, companions destined to the sound of agony and separation, haunted by the solemn ignorance of innocent creatures.

Love… what was it but a word in a spoken contract.

Neuvillette had married you months ago, a happy and superficially authentic marriage. You had captured his attention, and his knowledge of humans, as the Great Chief Justice, could be satiated by knowing you, a faithful human companion, devoted wife, and sublime lover.

The bed was the only moment where you two connected, where, to the rhythm of the waves, Neuvillette penetrated his marital responsibility towards your depths, that which he considered appropriate towards his so-called wife, who, in a frenzy of pleasure, crushed his pale back with her nails, set to music by the melodious moans he tore from your sweaty breast… There was no connection beyond the sexual, for as a dragon, despite the years, it is very difficult for him to connect with humans.

Focalors was an oceanid, and he was a dragon sovereign. Both turned human. Nothing more to add, two rulers abandoned by the world they were supposed to protect, what would grow between them but pure trust and admiration that would obviously develop into love?

Neuvillette didn't understand. Not until that moment. He had been deaf to his innocent heart pounding anxiously every time Focalors entered his office in her unruly human form, rampant in color and expression. He had been unaware of the flame of satisfaction in his chest that burned hot when she spoke to him in the privacy of their conversations in the theater…he did not understand, not until he understood that he would eventually lose her.

He cried, for the first time he let someone see him cry in his human form. Focalor's words, so exquisite before him, ethereal in her ornate louvered dress, echoed in his head…and in his heart… ….

"Hydrodragon, Hydrodragon… don't cry," she whispered… and he, very reluctant to leave her, wished with all his might to leap upon her, wrap her in his arms and never let her go. He would flee with her on his lap, in his draconic form, leaving Fontaine and everyone else to their fate.

No… a Sovereign would not do that… he would not do that… for to abandon his oath would deserve the most dastardly punishment of all. And maybe, just for thinking that, he deserved what happened next.

"Farewell, Neuvillette," her words, pure in his human form. His companion, his friend, his mentor… his soul mate, tossed away like the foam on the shore of a beach.

Death was a human concept, without transcendence over evolution… love, however, was another story.

He came home like a soldier after the war, he came back without a part of himself… he came back to his boring life married to a woman he doesn't even love, at least not the way you really deserve him.

"Darling," you offer him a glass of fresh spring water from Quiaoying Village, because you know he doesn't like anything else, especially in dark times like these, a glass of the freshest, coldest water suits him wonderfully.

He drinks from the glass, almost as stoic as ever, though his face is stiffer than usual. Routine is becoming overwhelming for both of you, and Neuvillette is suspiciously distant from you, more so than usual. You stroke his cheek while he sleeps to help him fall asleep, you make him breakfast in the mornings and serve him dinner when he comes home, all without so much as a hello.

You suspect the worst, because your friends have planted the idea in your head that Neuvillette has a mistress, and not far from the truth, his heart belongs to another.

After the flood, many had left Fontaine, and perhaps your husband's mistress was among them, or so you thought. How painful it had been for you to see him break for another woman, to see him crack at his most human for a heart that was not yours.

Overwhelmed, you write him a letter with the idea of leaving him and traveling to Sumeru with one of your friends in search of a new life, but everything is cut short when your symptoms begin. Pregnancy was imminent, after all the nights the Iudex had taken you into your bed, it was to be expected.

You receive Neuvillette that night, frustrated by your own doubts, debating between informing him of your condition or simply fleeing to new horizons with your child. It is so difficult to decide when your husband is the Iudex of Fontaine… and when you care about his reputation because you love him sincerely.

There is no need to search for words when your husband is a dragon with keen senses, for as soon as he set foot in the house, he sensed the scent of his brood stirring within you. The Iudex's interest, however, lay in whether or not you would confess to him.

"A package arrived for you this afternoon," Neuvillette comments as he sips the tea you prepared for him, pointing to a bag on the front table.

"Ah, yes," you say half-heartedly, taking the bag in your hands, emotions spilling from your chest as you crumple the paper between your fingers.

You sigh deeply, thinking that maybe this gift is your way of saying goodbye to him, of silently making amends and apologizing for something that is absolutely not your fault other than falling in love with the wrong man.

You take out of the bag an encyclopedia, a thick book with thick paste and yellow pages, brought from Sumeru, recommended by the very scribe of the Academya, a book of human anthropology for your dear strange husband, who seems to have a real interest in human behavior. Neuvillette looks at it as if it were a revelation, as incredulous as he is moved, touched by your gift and your attention to his interests. You try to say something, to tell him that you are pregnant, but you stop when you hear him speak.

"I know you're expecting my child," Neuvillette says, without going into the details of how he found out, touching the rim of the teacup, a wedding gift. "Whatever you need, tell me, health, food, you know I will cover all expenses."

"I want to go to Sumeru," you confess in an almost whispered tone, your words seeming to be carried away by the wind rushing through the window.

"That wouldn't be good," for a Hydro Dragon hatchling, of course it wouldn't. "You're too young to venture into a new nation, especially one with new leaders like Sumeru, not to mention the dry climate."

You don't argue, knowing he's right, and decide to simply retreat to your room and wallow in your defeat.

Neuvillette, however, with what little empathy he has generated, caresses the book with his fingertips, gliding over the fine markings carved into the cover.

A gift, he had never given you a gift before, but you had given him a gift by taking the initiative.

The months passed quickly. The precariousness of your relationship, increasingly dry on your part, provokes something in Neuvillette.

He looks at you from his side of the bed, the way you sleep peacefully with a swollen belly, carrying his little dragon without knowing it, without trying to get rid of it, loving it from the first moment. Neuvillette has seen you singing lullabies to your child these past few months, reading him stories while caressing your belly, telling him how much you want him to be born strong and healthy.

He's grateful for the deep affection you have for your child, so much so that he has tried to show it. Maybe what he read in the book worked, or maybe it is just a product of his new feelings for his wife, who is about to become a mother. He would do anything for your son to be born healthy and with a healthy mother.

He buys you fritters on the way home, from the store he found out you like best, courtesy of some Melusine, and sits next to you at the dinner table, trying to take an interest in your day and tell you about his, always aiming for your peace, a healthy heart would bring a healthy child.

His devotion is to the birth of your child, because that's what he tells himself. It's not that he was interested in you, of course not… it's not like he was surprised when you told him your clothes were too tight and you hated your new body, not when he likes to see your new figure when you lie next to him at night, with enlarged breasts and a round belly. He bought you new clothes, yes, by the boatload, but because that's what any husband would do.

He only appreciates you for being the mother of his child, it's not like his heart fluttered when he saw you helping some melusines with their problems, or coddling some baby of your friends, thinking what a wonderful mother you will soon be. It's not like h chest filled with pride when he saw you in the stores looking for maternity books and baby clothes, worrying about the weather and your child's health.

And it's definitely not like he's masturbating in his office, remembering the image of you undressing that morning to get into the tub, cutting the skin of your arms and breasts, moaning at the contact of the warm water against your body, and letting out a sigh of deep satisfaction.

That night, he comes home with the usual everyday gift, this time a box of macaroons, because he noticed that you were looking at them in the display case with great eagerness during the afternoon. And he sits down at the table with you, pours you a cup of tea and starts the conversation, even though he notices that you are much more tired than usual.

He carries you into the bedroom and helps you into your nightgown, taking the opportunity to caress your waist and back as he helps the fabric slide over your curves. And then he strokes your head to help you fall asleep, and without realizing it, he smiles as he sees you fast asleep next to him.

The birth is approaching and the strong pains make you desperate, confined to your room and reluctant to go out even to sunbathe. It was the midwife who unscrupulously suggested to Neuvillette that a little sexual activity would help you get through the contractions. And he, as devoted to his wife's health as any good husband, agrees.

You feel Neuvillette's cock thrust deep into you, deep into your velvety walls, soft and slow, not unlike what you've felt before. His hands rest on the sides of your head, his gaze fixed on his cock disappearing inside you, while you curl your legs at the delicious sensation of his thick appendage inside your pussy. He moves cautiously, sharply, trying not to hurt you, and as he pumps inside you, his gaze is lost on your breasts, bouncing to the rhythm of his gentle thrusts.

"Perfect," he whispers through his teeth, because in his eyes you are the perfect reservoir for his brood, yes, just that… he insists that you are simply his good companion, and pretends that he hasn't wanted to have you like this for weeks, under him, a mess between moans pinned to him as you cling to his arms.

"Monsieur~" you whimper, bringing a hand to your face to cover your expression, though he takes your wrist and looks at your face as if you were a treasure just discovered by a hungry, ambitious man.

When you reach your orgasm, he kisses you, for the first time during sex, Neuvillette kisses you, and even he surprises himself with his own actions. He washes your body and dresses you before you rest, now much calmer than before, sinking into your husband's chest as you fall asleep, ignoring the feelings that surface between the two of you.

When the child is born, Neuvillette is surprised to continue his affection for you. He did not fall into the same materialism as before, because now he recognized in the shared work of the novices how difficult it was to take care of a baby. It is he who washes the child because, to your surprise, he knows the strange need for fresh water that your baby requires at least twice a day. Neuvillette enjoys the laughter that you get from your child, and the way that he lifts his arms so that you can hold him and show him how well you are feeding him, he looks strong and healthy.

One day, as he was leaving the Opera Epiclese, he was distracted by the statue of the Focalors, but his attention was immediately drawn to the babbling exclamations of his son, who was waving in your arms near the fountain. How gratifying is that moment when his heart leaps with joy as he sees you holding his child.

The days have been sunny in Fontaine since your son was born, and to Neuvillette's relief, the bitter memories of his separation from the Focalors are just that, memories… past images that he does not cherish, as he knows humans do, not now that his being is entirely devoted to his mate and his brood. What kind of elixir have you become for him, that he can forget all his sorrows and his past loves?

Neuvillette spends hours in his office poring over the pages of the book you gave him months ago, highlighting this thing called melancholy, the longing for past situations and desires, and feeling sorry for those who feel it, because if it were a disease, he would call himself cured of this melancholy.

He finds it curious how you managed to get rid of all the gloomy feelings that plagued him, and even wonders if you are not some kind of sorceress… No, not you, not when you so devotedly cleanse your child and offer him a carefully prepared dinner, and practically put your heart and soul into every act of domesticity.

Focalors… her name and image sail through the ancient memories of Neuvillette's tattered mind, the smile of a woman he loved, now replaced by that of the one who lies beside him, coddling a bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked child. Funny how in such a short time he had acquired such human habits as feeling part of a family he hadn't even planned to have.

Your relationship with Neuvillette, full of respect and admiration, help and companionship, seems to evolve into something more. You become his confidant, his mentor when he has doubts about human children or about the customs between parents and children. Involuntarily, he comes to you when he has questions, not to a library, for despite your young mortal age, you know much more than books could ever give him.

You are patient with his ignorance and loving when he is wrong. Mutual and pure respect, absolute devotion and admiration. Neuvillette doesn't believe you are human, how can you be human with so many virtues… his curiosity grows and changes, so much so that he counts the hours in court to come home and chat with you while you nurse his child.

He returns home that night with new doubts, because he has seen strange devices for children without understanding their usefulness, called fun. Can they have fun by themselves? Aren't they too young for that?…oh, and he brings a storybook, because he understands that made-up stories are interesting for babies, even if they don't understand much of the language.

He goes to the baby's room with an enthusiasm he doesn't know he has, and stops at the door when he hears you soothing your baby's cry with sweet words.

"Hydro-Dragon, Hydro-Dragon, don't cry," you murmur as you caress your child's cheek and try to feed him.

Your child is frantically breastfeeding, his tears fading as he closes his bright purple eyes, his little hands clenched into fists and his nose twitching. Neuvillette watches the whole scene from the doorway, his heart in his throat and his feelings on his skin. Those words that broke his soul so long ago now seem to put the pieces of his shattered existence back together.

He smiles, a melancholy, self-satisfied smile. And he looks at you, he looks at you with devotion, because you have finally made him understand what he feels and has felt for so many months. His devoted wife, as patient as she is charming… seems wiser and more skillful than any scholar.

Leaving your child in its cradle, you straighten your neck and turn to Neuvillette, who has entered the room.

"What a beautiful book," you murmur, picking it up, "the baby will love it.

Neuvillette watches you with one hand on the crib that protects his baby, then watches his son sleep, wrinkling his nose the way you do when you sleep.

"You must be exhausted," he whispers, stroking your arm and leading you out of the baby's room.

"Not at all," you smile, "the child fills me with vitality."

"So… Hydro Dragon," Neuvillette recalls the words you said to his baby.

"I said it when I was a girl, like everyone else in Fontaine, it was an idea that came to me suddenly," you answer, and he smiles at your expression, thinking that maybe he heard you when you were a girl, maybe you were one of the many children who recited the same words when it rained in Fontaine.

"I have to tell you something," Neuvillette says, his voice lacking authority, more like a prayer. You watch him from the kitchen.

"'Tell me.

Focalors, Neuvillette, Furina, Fontaine's hydrodragon, the flood, his never-confessed love… he tells you everything because he understands that you deserve the truth, and that he doesn't deserve you because you're too understanding of his confession. It is as if this conversation has cleared up all your doubts, and you have finally seen the real Neuvillette, who fully trusts you to know what to do with this information.

Neuvillette believes that you will ask him for a divorce and leave him alone with his son, but he is surprised to find you preparing breakfast the next morning with your child tied to your leg while you both laugh.

He does not deserve you, definitely not, for he is perhaps the most despicable man in Fontaine and all of Teyvat. To think of another while he is married, to take his wife with him in a grief that is not hers, to bind her to him forever by impregnating her… how mean he must have been, and how understanding you become as his selfishness grows.

He hugs you from behind, buries his face in your neck, inhales your scent and clings to your waist. He begs for forgiveness countless times, and you feel that he may have already shed a few tears on your shoulder, because the sky suddenly begins to cloud over.

"There's nothing to forgive," you whisper, stroking his head, "we can't choose who we fall in love with."

He looks at you in disbelief, wondering in what book he would find such an accurate statement. You had fallen in love with him, and he finally understands, for you are both victims of the disorderly course of love, so messy in its actions, indifferent to those it hurts.

He thinks about your words as he sits in his office, as he looks at the framed photograph he has of you holding his son, and wonders when he fell into the trap of the reckless love that humans call it.

The name of the Focalors does not mean anything to him anymore, even less when he sees Lady Furina in boutiques or restaurants… surely a memory has finally become just that, a memory. His heart is now the prey of another person, his wife, the mother of his son.

Neuvillette understands that there is a difference between soul mates, first love, and true love. The connection with Focalors had been imminent years ago, as both were unaware of the actions of the society in which they had become intruders, but they were nothing more than that, accomplices in a game of masks and power, the first experience of mutual affection and trust. Focalors was his soulmate, yes, because she understood firsthand everything he experienced, but being a living part of her theater did not feel authentic.

With you, however, Neuvillette had learned to be a part of his people, whether as a human or a dragon, as Chief Justice or as the father of an infant. He was no longer an intruder or a stranger ignorant of human ways, not after you. At your side, Neuvillette had known a new range of sensations, of experiences and learning based on mistakes, all very human on his part, and as expected, he had learned to fall in love again, because it was inevitable, after several problems and misunderstandings between the two of you, after the birth of his son and the new horizons that fatherhood brought. His affection for you had been disguised as admiration and redemption, his ignorance had once again avoided love, a mistake he wanted to make up for.

Sitting in your living room while he reads a book and you braid his hair and hum a lullaby, Neuvillette lets the waves of your voice carry him away, wondering what kind of marital experiences he had missed with you.

"What kind of things do husbands do?" He asks suddenly, looking up at you from the carpeted floor, surprising you with his curious question.

"Well…" you think, it's not like when he asks you why kids suck their thumbs or why people give each other presents on non-holidays. It's not a question about trivial human behavior, not this time.

"I've seen couples go out to dinner, but you told me that friends also go out to dinner," he continues, elaborating on his puzzle. "Wriothesley and I have had tea together, what would be the difference between having tea with him and with you?"

"Well…" you continue to think about your answer. "Perhaps the most obvious is living together, planning the week together, household and food expenses, child care, and confidentiality between the two. When you and I have tea, we talk about things that you probably don't mention to Wriothesley".

" Certainly," he says with a hand on his chin, "you and I do all those things, but how is that different from students who share a house? They also plan expenses and discuss confidences."

"Then I guess the biggest difference is in starting a family. Normally, people get married because they want to have a family with the person they choose, the person they love, or the person their parents impose on them."

"So sex is what differentiates married people," he says, and you remain static at his words, stopping to braid his hair, "of course… the physical and emotional affection shown by both parties in marriage…" Neuvillette rambles on, his own conclusion as he sits on the couch next to you, thinking about how he hasn't shown his affection the way he should.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, you are distracted by the details of your skirt, picking out rebellious threads, and then he thinks about the last time he kissed you and wonders what it would be like to kiss someone with marital affection.

"Can I kiss you?" The question is thrown out with innocence, causing surprise in you.

"You've kissed me before, Neuvillette," you say, smiling and getting up to go into the kitchen, "we even have a son, I don't think there's anything new to try."

"Indeed," he says, getting up and walking toward you, your back against one of the walls, "but the variable that makes this situation different from the others is that I didn't feel that way about you."

"Like what?" you ask, as he moves closer to you, almost cornering you against the wall.

"I like thinking about you, being with you, hearing you talk," he says, his tone low, as if he were ashamed to confess everything to you. "I thought it was a simple instinct to care for you as the mother of my child… but now I know it's something deeper than that."

You look at him in surprise, now it is you who has unknowns that only he can answer. The silence between you is cold and almost tactile.

"What about her? Of the Archon," you whisper, your breath depending on the question, Neuvillette's forehead inches from yours.

"It's not the same. There is no excitement or desire. I never longed for her or desired her like you. She didn't provoke me the way you did, it's almost annoying."

"Am I annoying? "Is that what she's telling me, Judge?" You smile as you touch the tip of his nose, trying to take some of the seriousness out of the conversation.

"You are adorably hypnotic, I must say. More than you should be. You have taken everything from me without me even realizing it, subtly and carefully taking over my mind and my heart," Neuvillette's hands caress your cheek, high above your skin, avoiding friction as if his touch would bruise your flawless complexion.

"Let me show you these human feelings that have taken over me, please," he whispers, his thumb sliding over your lower lip. He says it almost like a complaint, his bursting emotions becoming painful, trapped in his chest, longing for you to give him comfort and permission to act.

"I'll let you… only if you promise me something," you say, taking his hand, avoiding the marks of his fingers on you. "You will never push me aside for another woman again…"

His oath needs no words, not when he has you leaning against the kitchen table, his cock pushing behind you to your cervix. Your muffled moans as he adjusts your skirt over your waist and spreads your legs further to give him free access to your pussy, which sucks him contemptuously.

Neuvillette feels like a fantasy, thrusting relentlessly into you, touching the bulge that has formed in your belly from the penetration of his cock, pushing with his hand so you can feel it better, eliciting a high-pitched moan from you. . He kisses your cheek and you hear his muffled moans against your ear as he utters words of worship.

You grip the marble edge of the table, moaning at the burning building in your belly, your eyes glassy and spit falling from your mouth. It's as if your legs were lifeless, as if you were prey to Neuvillette and the way he drives his love for you so deep that it seems to stir your womb.

That afternoon he takes you in the kitchen, and the next morning he doesn't let you get out of bed, one hand on the headboard and the other around your waist, Neuvillette has you with your ass up like a dog in heat, hitting your slippery with his length. The strength that his support gives you is hard to bear, your breasts trembling strongly as your ass bounces to his rhythm, your skin moving like waves in the sea with each vibration that Neuvillette's relentless interference causes.

His hand slides down your body, caressing your breasts and down to your clit, your face buried in the pillows, almost crying at how good his fingers feel on your nervous lump. He fills you with his seed when he reaches orgasm, because he is dying to see you again with your belly swollen for his offspring. And he kisses you again, he kisses your forehead while you catch your breath, while you cover your body that has been bruised by his fingers, defining the lustful path of his digits over your body.

In his office, he remembers the past hours with fanciful lust and longs to return home to enjoy this new activity that you have made him experience, this new addiction that your body represents against his. He longs for your company and your warmth, your voice moaning with pleasure and the way your nails dig into his back. He adores everything about you, not only because you are the mother of his child, but because he finally understands, after several months of reading and reflection, that he has truly fallen in love with you, his precious human wife.

#genshin impact #genshin smut #neuvilette smut #neuvillette #neuvilette genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #Neuv #neuvilette x reader #Foca #focalors #focallette

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marieshyperf1xations · 2 days

Note

For the kiss prompts, could you do 'luring your lover back to bed with kisses', I'm a sucker for the domestic fluff potential of this prompt! No pressure, though 🩶

Thank you for the request dear, I had so much fun with it! 🧡

You're so right, this is basically screaming domestic adorableness. I hope I'm doing the prompt justice!

It's nothing special, just something I came up with to get my mind off uni work, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Inspired by regular ocurrences between my boyfriend and me :D

When Max wakes up, the bed next to him is empty and cold. Groggily he opens his eyes to steal a glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand Charles insisted on buying some time during the last summer break, when he was on an – admittedly short-lived – mission of cutting his screentime short and banning phones from the bedroom.

It’s 10:02 a.m., which Max supposes is a reasonable time to get up at, considering they’re in the first weeks of winter break, all work-related obligations still far in the future. While he’d been up gaming with Redline until the early hours of the morning, Charles had announced that he was off to bed shortly after dinner.

No surprise then that his boyfriend is up already, Max muses.

Upon slowly shaking off the last remnants of sleep he registers the faint sounds of a piano being played beautifully in the living room on the other side of the flat. Every once in a while, the melody stops, only for the last few notes to be played again slightly differently.

From the sounds of it, Charles is composing new songs again, which Max knows to mean he has his phone nearby in case he wants to record himself playing.

The thought gives him an idea. Max fishes his own phone from the floor where it must have fallen at some point during the night. He pulls up the chat he has with Charles and types out a message.

“Babe, I need your help :((“

He hears a soft ding from the other room, confirming his suspicion. A moment later the music stops.

The sound of a chair scraping, the gentle wooden thump of the piano’s lid being lowered, Charles’ hurried steps on the hardwood floors coming towards the bedroom and a door opening, and then his boyfriend appears in the doorframe.

He’s still in his pyjamas, his hair is messy like he hadn’t bothered fixing it after crawling out of bed and on his face there’s a worried expression.

“Chéri, what happened? Are you alright?”, he asks, eyes widened and scanning over his boyfriend and the room, as if he were looking for any sign of something being wrong.

Max almost feels bad for scaring Charles like that, but he supresses the urge to apologise in favour of putting on his best pouty face.

“I wanted to get up out of bed, but it seems like I don’t have enough energy”, he claims, hoping Charles will give into his puppy eyes like he always does. “I need a kiss”

The Monegasque rolls his eyes at his boyfriend’s antics but it’s clear he’s more relieved everything is alright than actually upset about the dramatic interruption to his morning.

“You’re impossible”, he snickers. “Alright then, one good morning kiss for my sleeping beauty, coming right up”

He crosses the space between the door and the bed and leans down to offer Max a kiss.

The Dutchman, however, has other plans. As soon as Charles is in his reach, he all but launches himself at his boyfriend and pulls him down on the bed with him.

“Gotcha!”, he laughingly whispers into Charles’ neck and then proceeds to pepper the skin there with kisses.

“Never call me childish again”, Charles deadpans, only managing to keep a straight expression for a few moments before he too erupts into giggles and escapes Max’ hold enough to properly press a kiss to his lips.

“’s not my fault you made me wake up to a cold and empty bed”, Max grumbles, attaching himself to the other man’s body as if he were imitating a koala clinging to a tree. “I’m keeping you here for at least another half hour to make up for that horrible injustice”

And although they both know it will most likely be at least twice that time, who is Charles to argue with his boyfriend’s line of logic?

Images credits: Pinterest

#formula 1 rpf #lestappen #lestappen fanfic #my writing #blueberry-obsessed #drabble #drabble ask

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stxrvel · 5 hours

Text

the routine (4)

heeeey guys. this is a short one but i wanted to share something with you, since it's been a while! it's getting harder to write, but i found some peace of mind today so i wanted to give you this. hope u like this! love u all and hopefully see u next time. i promise it's gonna get better, just give me some time :(.

summary: trying to settle into life after what happened has proven to be just as difficult for both you and Azriel… pairing: azriel x fem!reader words: 1.5k warnings: still just angst.

part 1: the cliff

part 2: the house

part 3: the court

There was something bittersweet hanging around your house since that argument with your parents. It had been a week since you had returned and, sadly, things didn't feel as good as they used to. You didn't expect you all to be exactly the same either, you and your parents had been through specific times that wouldn't allow them to ever be the same again, especially when they were so reluctant for you to return to the Night Court. Even you didn't know if you would be completely ready to do so in the near future.

One good thing was that, during those days, you had learned to manage your emotions to keep them from running strongly through the bond you shared with Azriel so as not to overwhelm him. Perhaps it was the only thing that had distracted you during that time from rethinking what had happened, even more than your parents' attempts at conversation.

There was also the matter of the shadows. You knew they were Azriel's, you thought they belonged to him, but some of them were constantly accompanying you, and they got scares out of your father from time to time.

Going back to your parents was supposed to bring you peace, but you felt calmer every time you looked at the tattoo running down your arm and the promise Azriel had made to you with crystallized eyes.

“I hear your thoughts all the way over here, you know?”

You lifted your head, blinking faster. The wind caressed your cheeks and moved your loose hair, for a moment forgetting where you were. Shadows gathered around your feet.

“I'm sorry, did you say something?”

Alya had a posture with her arms up, sending you a curious look. Your childhood friend barely needed to hear the tones in your voice to know when you were lying, but she seemed to want to let it go that time. The people around you didn't seem to know how to deal with the conversations when word got out that you were back, but Alya had a talent for knowing when to touch on topics and when not to.

“Several things,” her body moved toward the fruit baskets, taking the last basket in her arms and starting to walk in the opposite direction. “My brother got married.”

“Really?”

“And he has children.”

“Really?”

“Twins.”

You let out a laugh, remembering Alya's rebellious older brother. Your visits to her house were always accompanied by the constant whining and fighting between Trav and his parents because he didn't want to start a family in the near or distant future. He was so insistent about it, even though it was the only thing his parents wanted. According to Alya's accounts, it was impossible for him not to start imagining that future when he met his mate.

“What about you?”

“Ah, no, please, no. There is nothing interesting to tell about my life. I assure you that Mrs. Taylors had a more exciting life for the past few years than I have,” Alya and you arrived at her mother's fruit stand, where she dropped the last basket of goods you had helped her move all morning. You marched beside her, detailing the look of nonchalance she was trying so hard to maintain.

“It couldn't have just not happened. It was… too many years,” despite the boastfulness with which you wanted to carry the conversation, your voice reached to cut off finishing the sentence. Alya turned to look at you, her worried eyes analyzing your face before grabbing your wrist and walking away from the fruit stand.

“You know you don't have to pretend around me, right?”

Alya closed the door to her house behind her. Her family had gotten a very homey house right in the heart of the city's commerce and they kept their very well kept stall right in front of it. Every corner of the place felt like a home because of the great dedication and love her whole family put into it. Even when her brother was missing, it seemed that the house had not lost any strength or presence.

Maybe that's why you felt a wave of longing and nostalgia hit your body, leaving you more vulnerable than you had been the last few days.

“Living with my parents hasn't been so great,” you began, lowering your gaze with a frown. Alya had moved into the kitchen and you had happily settled down on the counter right in front of the stove. Your hands in front of you on the white ceramic were moving nervously, interlocking and clattering your nails on the hard material. “After so long I thought that… I thought that nothing would change when I came back. I thought we'd be even closer together than before, I even thought we'd sleep together. I spent so many nights… alone and so cold. I couldn't bear the thought of going back and having to go through that kind of torturous loneliness again.”

Alya moved in front of you, setting aside the tea brewing to clasp her hands in yours, still twitching in nervousness and anxiety. Her expression was no longer one of dread as she noticed shadows moving around you.

“Is it because of him?”

You nodded, and acknowledging it once again was no less painful.

“It's illogical, I think,” Alya rested her arms on the ceramic, frowning slightly. The warmth of her hands, even though it wasn't a bit chilly in her house, brought you just enough coziness to try to soothe your heart. It reminded you of that moment at the border of Court Day next to Azriel. “After so long without seeing you, why not take advantage of the indefinite time you'll be with them? They stress too much about something that could happen in two decades, even.”

“I've tried to tell them, but I don't think they'll be happy until I tell them I'm not coming back.”

“What about him?” Alya cocked her head to one side, and at your confused look added, “He wouldn't be willing to come?”

“What? No. I couldn't even suggest it to him,” you shook your head as soon as the words left her mouth.

“Why not?”

“His whole life is in that court, Alya. Asking him to give it all up for me just because I wouldn't be willing to do it for him, wouldn't that be too selfish?”

“You must keep in mind that you've been through special circumstances. If he really feels a quarter of the bond love, then he won't mind giving up everything for you.”

“I don't want to talk about this anymore. The tea is going to dry up.”

Alya shifted letting out a gasp of surprise.

“Fine. But you have to keep in mind that it's not just about you now. You're not alone anymore. You don't have to make decisions for him or stop making them because it's not just your feelings you have to be careful with.”

Azriel still didn't understand how Mor had convinced Tarquin and Rhysand to meet for that reunion on the day you finally returned home, but he was immensely grateful that she had been able to negotiate the terms down to the last instance. The same thing he would've done.

“Are you ever going to see him again?”

“Not as long as I live.”

The aforesaid appeared at the training camp when Azriel was taking some time away from the crowd of people living in the Town House. He would never have believed that he would rather strain his body until he passed out just so he wouldn't have to meet Rhysand's or Cassian's face at every corner. The blood in his veins burned as if it had poison in it, one step away from starting to spit in their directions as if they were the only ones to blame for everything that had happened.

As if he needed to find a culprit for your departure.

But there was no one to blame. It had been your decision. And every day since then Azriel's sentence became significantly larger and more tedious to carry. The worst part was not even knowing when that ordeal would end. Living with that bitterness in his heart and that emptiness in his soul, he didn't believe there could ever be peace in his relationship with his brothers. No one in the house overlooked that.

"She's fine," Mor changed the subject abruptly, knowing exactly how to appease the flame of his anger.

Azriel nearly melted with his forehead against the punching bag. His shoulders slumped in momentary relaxation, the only relaxation he'd allowed himself to have since you'd left.

“You saw her?”

“Yes, she was spending time with her friends. She was smiling. Laughing. She looked happy.”

Azriel had to fight the whine that wanted to escape his lips. He shook his head in assent, trying to keep the emotions at bay, sending a silent thank you through the masses of air. He felt his heart squeezed inside his chest. Every day was a constant uncertainty because he couldn't even feel her anymore…

Mor had to travel weekly to Summer because one of the terms of their agreement with Tarquin required it and for the last three weeks all Azriel had been waiting for was news about you, to know that you were well, that you looked well, that you were really happy there, at home… away from him.

“You know that doesn't imply that she wants to forget you, right?”

The mere implication made his head fall back on the sack. Azriel tried to nod, feeling the words and his own emotions choking him. His body would become an inert object at some point, that much he knew, because he couldn't spend too long living like this. He couldn't even imagine it, if he was just beginning the period that could last for years, even centuries for all he knew.

“I know…” his voice came out choked, almost mistaken for a sigh. “I know.”

He repeated again to himself.

Azriel dreaded knowing how things were going to be from now on.

taglist: @isa1b2h3 @naturakaashi @anuttellaa @tele86 @amysangel @fxckmiup @inloveallthetime @fightmedraco @railingsofsorrow @fandomarchiveilyd

#azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar series #azriel angst

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mistress-ofmagic · 10 hours

Text

Around the Realms in 80 days - chapter 22

Pairing: Reader x Loki

Story summary: You have fallen through a portal during the convergence into Asgard and come face to face with Thor, and his brother Loki. With no way to return, you must travel with the two men and their hoard of asgardian soldiers to get back home. Things get from bad to worse when you have to share a tent with the god of mischief himself.

Notes:

Okay I don't know if any of you guys are still out there and still wanting an update for this story but I'm providing one anyway! I really do hope that you're still with me (and if you can't remember what happened that feels like a good time for a re-read right??)

Read this story on a03!

find all parts to this story on Tumblr here:

You’d had better days, you mused.

Better weeks, months, years…

“If you continue pulling that face it will get stuck and you’ll get wrinkles” Loki chimed behind you.

You glared up at him, scowling even harder out of spite.

He grinned down at you.

After Loki’s admission two days ago, his mood had been…interesting. He had stayed beside you in the hospital when he could, but he kept swapping between being distant and being close.

No real change there then, you thought.

You hadn’t brought the whole being a frost Giant thing up again, despite your thousands of questions in case you pushed him too far and he got annoyed with you and decided to stop visiting.

Now however, he seemed to be in a good mood although you felt that had more to do with the fact he was currently pushing you around in a wheelchair.

His eyes had lit up when the nurses had suggested it, despite the fact you felt well enough to walk really and for most of your journey you would just be in the lift anyway. You had protested multiple times but now Loki had got the idea in his head there was really no persuading him otherwise.

“Isn’t this nice?” He asked, too jovial for your liking.

You put your tongue out and rolled your eyes when you thought he wasn’t looking.

“I saw that you little chit.”

He rocked the wheelchair like he was going to tip you out.

“LOKI!” You yelled, gripping to the sides of your chair.

The lift attendant had looked pale when you’d first stepped in, and now he looked rather green.

Loki roared with laughter.

“Oh come on darling, you really think I would throw a vulnerable maiden out of her chair?”

Before having to face that your answer to that question might actually be no and that you knew Loki would never do anything to hurt you, or the fact that this was the third time he had called you darling, the doors of the lift opened onto the floor where you were meeting with Stark and the Avengers.

Apparently Tony had wanted to wait until you were a bit better before doing a debrief on what had gone down on Muspelheim.

Loki wheeled you down small corridor and into the large meeting room. Like many of the rooms in Stark towers, the windows were completely glass and looking down onto the city below. It was as far as being outside as you had got in the past few days and you stared out, longingly.

Distracting you slightly from the view, was the Avengers sat around the table. Thor was there of course, as well as Captain America, Natasha and Dr Bruce Banner. A smaller cohort that had welcomed you in when you had first arrived.

Natasha seemed to assess you with cool eyes, but Bruce shot you a sympathetic look which you felt was a lot to do with the fact you were wearing a very cool and flattering nightie with Shrek’s face all over it as it was the only thing that could fit over your bandages.

Loki wheeled you into a space that had been left chair-less for you as he took the one next to you.

Tony gave you a tired smile.

“How you feeling kid?”

“Better thank you. And thank you for the care on your wards too!”

He brushed you off with a wave of his hand.

“I suppose I should thank you for saving Rock of Ages life too.” Tony shot Loki a disgruntled look. “He is helping us with this situation after all.” He said, as if he wasn’t particularly happy about it. “Its nice to see you taking your babysitting duties very seriously, although next time I’d appreciate it if you stay away from certain death, he’s not worth it.”

Loki gave a half shrug, “that’s one thing we agree on.”

You scowled again.

“Plus now you are officially hired as a member of my workforce, it reflects badly on me.”

You snorted, “If the babysitter club ever want a new member i’ll be the first in line. And don’t worry, I have no desire to face certain death ever again.”

Although I would save Loki again, a little voice in your head added that you pushed down into the depths of your subconscious.

“So, Wonderland’s still with us, but we still no nothing about the current alien threat to Earth.” Stark said gloomily.

“Well, we found out Surtur’s made some sort of deal with someone to er…cause something.” Thor supplied.

Stark pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Next to nothing then. Natasha?”

She shrugged. “Nothing at any of the reported sites, no sign of anything coming in or out.”

“We did learn that they are taking humans for something.” You piped up.

Everyone stared at you and you immediately regretted speaking at all.

“One of the fire demons told me.” You mumbled.

“Is there no help from your…lot?” Steve asked to Thor.

“Sadly, Ragnarok is a myth across the other realms too, not just on Midgard. There will be many that don’t take it seriously seriously. And, no one would be bothered enough about a few missing humans to get involved in an intergalactic war.” Loki shrugged.

Stark scoffed “A few?”

He pulled up a page a hologram of various news stories over the past few weeks, of humans going missing, seemingly vanishing without a trace.

It was worse than you thought, and it seemed the rates where going up by the day.

“The fire demon I spoke with, he told me I could go with him, somewhere where they could make me more powerful.” You spoke again.

Tony and Bruce swapped concerned faces.

“Did he say anything else?”

“No, not really, just promises of a greater future or something.”

“Well it might not be much but, good work.” Steve said, and flashed you an all American pearly smile and you blushed in spite of yourself.

“Yes, Latte has proved herself to be truly courageous on this trip.” Thor agreed.

“Oh well, I don’t know about all that.” You murmured feeling your face burn up. It was only an accident anyway that you had found anything out, it’s not like you’d stormed up to a fire demon and demand he speak to you.

Nevertheless, you were only a few beats away from kicking your feet and giggling but you refrained yourself.

Loki muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “suck up” and you glared at him, taking a long swig of water to cool yourself down.

“You reap what you sow kid, I’ll be recruiting you to do further missions with Loki if you’re not careful. Who knew the worlds rudest goth could make friends? And a lowly earthling at that.” Stark challenged.

You tensed. You weren’t really 100% sure if Loki actually did consider you a friend, or if he would take offence at the insinuation.

But Loki leaned back in his chair, “We are friends, friends with benefits.”

You choked on your water and it spilled down Shreks face as Thor gave you a pat on the back that nearly sent your lungs through your mouth.

While you recovered no one knew what to say, Steve and Bruce looked alarmed, you weren’t sure if that was at Lokis statement or the fact you had spat out half a glass of water and Starks mouth was hung wide open, his eyes open comically large, Natasha looked mildly amused.

“Its not…” You said between coughing. “That’s not true…Loki…Loki doesn’t know what that term means…he…he can’t….”

You turned to him.

“Where did you even hear that being said?” You spluttered.

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“You deny that we are friends in front of Stark and his goonies?”

“I’m not denying were friends Loki, I’m denying were friends with benefits. That doesn’t mean what you think it does it means something really specific on Earth. What…What benefits does our friendship bring?”

Loki shuffled in his seat “Well…you have taught me how to use a midgardian communication device and I have taught you…”

You cut him off “Great, expect thats not what friends with benefits means here it means…” You blushed heavily again.

“It means friends who…” you tried again.

Loki was watching you carefully with an eyebrow raised, the corner of his mouth starting to twitch and your uncomfortableness.

“Friends who fuck.” Natasha finished off helpfully.

You felt your face grow even redder if that were possible.

“Ah.” Loki said, in a measured tone although you thought you noticed a very light blush across his pale complexion. “I understand now that that might have been misleading.”

“Well thank God we cleared that up.” Stark sighed, “I thought we were going to have to admit you to the psych ward instead of the burns ward.”

You stared down to avoid eye contact with Loki, feeling a bit awkward.

“What’s the plan?” Steve asked.

“Asgardians?” Stark aimed at Thor.

“We won’t get anything more information from Surtur…”

“The people of this planet are disappearing! Into thin air! And some Alien thingies are the culprit! How can I be the protector of the human race if I don’t even have any leads!” Stark yelled.

Thor and Steve swapped looks.

“There might be more information we can gather across the other realms” Thor shrugged, “If the true enemy behind this is thought not to be human then they could potentially come from another Realm.”

“We would have no idea where to start though, it’s not like the nine realms are a small area to cover.” Loki argued.

“Doctor Foster does a lot of research into the nine realms, will she have any information for us?” Tony asked Thor hopefully.

“I…I can ask her to see what she has found.” Thor placated.

“In the meantime, we have our best scientists searching the skies for any sign of alien invasions.” Bruce added. “Tony I’m sure we will find something, we’ve got people going to sites where people have disappeared and looking into traces and signals that have been left behind, something is bound to flag up. And the researchers will keep monitoring the fire demons.”

Stark sighed. And you got a feeling that until this thing was settled he was never be satisfied, knowing the people of Earth were in danger.

“Meeting adjourned or whatever… I need a fucking drink.”

***

“13 down, 7 letters, a drawing intended to explain how something happens.”

“Diagram?”

Oliver nodded, writing it down.

“Okay… 5 across, 5 letters, spaghetti for example that’s got to be pasta…what about this one, 8 letters, endurance.”

“Stamina? No wait, that’s only 7…patience?”

“Yeah, has to be.”

It was the day after Starks meeting. Loki had wheeled you back into your hospital room after the meeting and then he’d had to then leave pretty sharpish, stating he had something he needed to do although you wondered if he still felt awkward about the whole friends with benefits thing. Then again, you wondered if Loki ever really felt awkward about anything, or if he was immune to embarrassment.

After the meeting you had been so damn tired that by the time he’d wheeled you back you’d been nearly asleep. The meeting was the most you had done since the attack and it had exhausted you.

Plus you were still pretty drowsy from all the pain medication you were on. You’d expected him to call over a nurse but instead he’d actually gotten you the medication you needed and then to your extreme surprise, he’d picked you up from your chair bridal style and put you into bed.

You were almost too sleepy to have noticed what was going on, but shockingly you were certain he had left a featherlight kiss on your forehead before he left.

Maybe you had imagined it in your sleepy state, after all he hadn’t been in to see you today.

The nurse had visited today and checked you over, changing your bandages. She had assured you your burns were healing nicely, and Loki’s fast thinking of applying his cold skin to your stomach and chest had saved most of your skin resulting in you only needing a smallish emergency skin graft.

You’d also been joined by Oliver, who had come prepared for the nurses recommendation of resting as much as possible by providing cross-words.

“You’re pretty good at these.” He gave his lopsided grin.

“Symptoms of a misguided youth I’m afraid. I might not have gone to Harvard but I am pretty nifty with a crossword.”

“Harvard’s overrated.”

“Alright for you to say Mr Ivy League.”

Oliver chuckled. “Wait this is a cryptic one, it says ‘to tantalise the left is a plant.’

“Huh? Wait let me see.”

Oliver stood up from the chair and brought the book over to you. He perched himself on the edge of your hospital bed and you moved over to give him more room.

“Do you need any more medication?” Oliver suddenly asked.

“I should be good thank you.” You smiled at him.

Man he was so sweet. Loki had done the same thing yesterday but still. It was nice to have someone else here who cared about you.

You caught his blue eyes. He had nice looking eyes you noticed, but they missed the tint of green you were used to seeing in Loki’s eyes.

Actually, why where you thinking about Lokis eyes at all?

Oliver placing his hand over yours on the bed brought you back to the present moment.

“I was thinking, maybe when you’re feeling better I could take you….”

Before Oliver could finish his sentence, the door to your room opened and Loki strode in.

Loki took in your close proximity to Oliver, and the fact you were holding hands and his eyes narrowed.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and for some reason your natural instinct was to jump back sheepishly from Oliver. Despite having no reason at all to feel guilt, you still felt…something.

“I had come to see how you were faring, but I see you have company already.” Those blue/green eyes you had just been thinking about were harsher than you had seen them in a while.

“We were just doing cross words.” You said, lamely.

Instead of keeping your mouth shut you continued like an imbecile. “Erm were stuck on a cryptic one if you wanted to help…”

“And intrude on this…personal moment.” He sneered.

“That wasn’t…I mean we were just…” You started and then sat up further in bed, trying to look authoritative, which was harder than you might think for someone attached to an IV drip. “Actually I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Oh, I see.” His voice was cold, and it felt like the room got colder too.

“What do you see?”

Loki ignored you.

“Get out.” He directed at Oliver.

Your temper started to rise.

“Hey, he doesn’t have to leave we were in the middle of something.”

“Look, um maybe I should just go.” Oliver spoke up squeezing your hand before standing up.

“I’ll leave the book here for you for when you get bored. I hope you feel better, I’ll come visit again soon and bring some more stuff.” He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Kudos to Oliver, he walked past Loki out of the room without crying or screaming.

After he had left, Loki breezed into the room and arranged the flowers at the table at the bottom of the table like he hadn’t just yelled at your friend to leave.

“Dude what is wrong with you?” You directed at Loki. “I am allowed to have friends!”

He rolled his eyes.

“He clearly wants to be more than friends.”

You made a funny noise in the back of your throat. You wouldn’t be totally against Oliver having more than friendly feelings, a distraction from these insane feelings for Loki that keep creeping up out of no where might be a good thing, right?

Not that you had any feelings for Loki, obviously.

Loki studied you closely before clearing his throat.

“Are you and this mortal…friends with benefits?”

“Loki!” You glared at him.

His facial expression remained calm as he continued staring at you.

“I’m simply asking."

“No! No, God I wish you had never learnt what that term meant. Also I am sleeping next to you every night where would I find the time?”

“Yes, you are aren’t you.” He said, too smugly for your liking.

“Although I do have every right to explore…you know, that side of things with someone if I want to.”

His eyes narrowed again, and stood up taller.

“We are in the middle of a crisis here. Is now the right time to be engaging in a dalliance?”

“You can’t be serious!” You said indignantly.

“I’m being very serious!” He matched your tone.

"Are you giving me a lecture right now on my love life?” When he didn’t say anything you continued.

“You don’t even care about humans, why are you even bothered about this crisis suddenly?”

“You’re being ridiculous, you can’t seriously mean to engage with this… mere mortal. ”

“I’m being ridiculous? You’re being ridiculous! In case you forgot, I happen to be a mere mortal too!”

Loki kind of did look taken a back for a second, as if he had actually forgotten that.

“What I get up to is not even any of your business.” You told him

“Fine.” He sneered, walking towards the door.

“Fine!” You shouted back.

He slammed the door behind him as you threw your puzzle book at him.

“Ah!” You screamed to yourself.

The cheek of that asshole to have a go at you for letting yourself engage in some dating when he was the one that slept with Ylva while you were touring around Asgard.

You tossed and turned around in your bed, but eventually the drowsiness kicked back in and you managed to fall asleep.

***

One moment, you were fast asleep, the next moment you heard an explosion. You sat up quickly, disorientated and confused. Another explosion sounded and you got up and ran to the window.

You blinked and blinked again.

A piece of metal fell seemingly from the sky and you looked up.

The tower was under attack.

Notes: I hoped you guys enjoyed this and are still liking the story!!

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