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divineecelestial · 1 year ago

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Pretty Girl [3] Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summary — Eddie thinks he'll actually die if you keep ignoring him. So he's going to make you talk to him. Even if that means climbing through your window.

Word Count — 3.1k

Warnings — graphic depictions of sexual activity, oral sex (fem receiving) dirty talk, Eddie jerks off while eating you out

18+ ONLY

I didn't forget about you sluts.

“I can take you home.”

You watched as your group of friends slowly disappeared from view, their voices diminishing into silence as the car drove further down the road. The smile faded from your lips as a chilly breeze crashed against you were overcome with the realization that you were alone. Both literally and figuratively. Your friends, something you weren’t even certain you could call them, had forgotten you. No, that wasn’t the right word. Left you must’ve been more accurate because they knew you were there but none of them seemed to even care they left you alone under a yellow streetlamp on an empty road as raindrops dampened your uniform. Yes, left behind was the right term for it. Disregarded and ignored. You glanced down at the brown stains on your white, or what used to be sneakers. Goosebumps rose on your exposed legs as you crossed your arms, trying to preserve as much warmth as you could. You took a deep breath, readying yourself for the journey home as your eyes stung with warm tears.

With reluctance, you peered over your shoulder and sighed shakily. There was a flicker of anger passing through you as you took him in; casually leaning against his van with his adorned hands stuffed inside his pockets. Of course, he was there. He was always there whenever you needed him as far away as possible. You blinked away the dwelling tears and whirled around, ignoring his presence entirely. You didn’t make it very far before you heard his heavy footsteps near you. “Oh, come on. I might be a dick but I’m not gonna let you walk home alone, at night, in the rain.” You wanted to remark that ‘might’ wasn’t accurate. He was a dick. “Especially in your pretty little uniform.”

You could feel your strands of hair sticking to your skin as you hesitantly faced him. “Oh, so you’re gonna protect me?” You questioned as if the mere idea of him keeping you from everything that goes bump in the night was ridiculous. Because that wasn’t him and that wasn’t how this dynamic worked. “I don’t think so. I’d rather take my chances with whatever is out there.” You said, glancing at the darkness surrounding the town. You knew what was out there. Dealt with everything that could’ve possibly killed you and survived, but here you were, dreading getting inside a car with him.

He loomed closer and your glare hardened as your nostrils flared. God, he couldn’t get over how pretty you looked when you were mad at him. You were finally acknowledging him again with that delicious anger he’d been craving. And for a brief moment, he couldn’t have even bothered to notice your wrath flaming beneath your harsh gaze because you were finally acknowledging him. You were finally looking at him with those damn eyes he swore he could lose himself in and he didn’t seem to care that you were only looking at him because you were on the verge of slapping him across the face.

Things were different. And this time, this change wasn’t a welcome one and you were desperate for everything to suddenly transform back to ‘normal’. Or as normal as things could get between you two. The weekend arrived and you didn’t want to go anywhere, irrationally worried you were going to see him. Avoiding him like he was contaminated with the plague wasn’t something you were used to. Sure, before this relationship progressed, you didn’t go out of your way to speak with him, but now, you couldn’t even walk in the same hallway without being consumed by embarrassment.

As ridiculous as this might’ve seemed, the kiss you abruptly pressed against him was strangely intimate. Well, for you it was. Because sex could just be something as simple as people seeking physical pleasure from another person. A simple hook-up. That connection was fiery, consuming, and temporary. You might not have had sex with him, but he allowed you to chase that all-consuming pleasure from him and you felt stupid for thinking he could’ve thought of you as anything other than some sex toy. You kissed him and he rejected you.

“You don’t mean that.” His smirk was cruel and you were moments from scratching his face until he was unrecognizable. “Come on, pretty girl. I’ll keep my hands to myself and drive with two hands on the wheel.”

As soon as the words fell from his lips, another breeze moved through the ice-cold air and you shivered. The light rainfall slowly dampened his unruly hair and you knew the downpour was going to drastically change soon. You looked upward at the dark skies and clamoring clouds, silently cursing at them for this. Oh, gosh, this couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t seriously be considering this. Sitting in a small and enclosed space with Eddie Munson for who knows how long after he had practically rejected you was outrageous. You were going to deny the offer when a loud crack echoed throughout town. Thunder. His smile only widened. “Fine. Give me your jacket.” He raised his eyebrows at the sudden demand but complied regardless. That’s how it worked between you both; you demanded and he complied. Most of the time. In one fluid movement, his jacket was removed and he wordlessly handed it to you. You removed your backpack and cheer bag and roughly smacked it against his chest before walking to his passenger door, decidedly ignoring his groan. He quickened his pace to open the door for you. “If you try any of your shit, I’m jumping out of the car.” You warned.

His jacket was warm and smelled like his cologne and weed. You tightened the fabric around yourself and flicked on the heater. He pulled away from the school’s desolate parking lot and drove away. A minute hadn’t gone by before he opened his mouth. “Why were you at school this late?” He knew why. He had practically memorized your schedule and knew exactly what you were doing most days, but he just wanted to listen to your voice. It had been too long since he had heard your voice directed at him.

You were quiet and didn’t answer immediately. He was going to ask the question again before your voice filled the confines of his car. “Cheer practice.” You answered shortly, gaze remaining outside the window and at the passing blur of colors. “You?” You hesitantly asked. You didn’t know why you bothered asking. You knew what he was doing there. He was cleaning the mess left behind by the Hellfire Club and doing whatever else dungeon masters do. You only knew because the kids were practically attached to him. It’s not like you wanted to know or asked about it before. Of course not.

“Hellfire.” And you must’ve been delusional if you thought Eddie was granting you some kind of mercy and deciding to drive the remainder of the trip in sweet silence. Yes, delusional indeed. “I’ve been trying to talk to you. These past couple of days, you know.” You did know, it was impossible to not notice such an imposing figure in your life like him. Beneath the facade of flippancy and sarcasm, there was the undeniable truth—he was hurt. And this wasn’t an ordinary kind of hurt. This was an ache that throbbed and demanded to be felt, the lifeless thump of a cracked heart before transforming into a sharpness, unlike anything he had ever experienced. Heartache was a disease desperate to be felt. The cure of his was inches away from him, shrouded with his clothes.

“I didn’t notice.” You lied straight through your teeth and he knew you were lying.

His eyes remained on the road, but his grip on the wheel tightened. “I just wish you would let me explain—”

You breathed in sharply. “There isn’t anything to explain.” Another lie.

There was another crackle and a flash of light scattered across the sky. “Yes, there is. Just let me—”

The driveway of your household was steadily approaching and you were already unbuckling your seatbelt, practically tumbling outside as soon as the van stopped moving. “Thank you for the ride.” He watched as you disappeared behind your door, closing it without glancing back.

Beneath the warmth of your blankets, you readjusted yourself with your eyes closed. Your face was smushed against your pillows, a small sigh escaping you as you squeezed your pillow tighter. The sound of your window opening filled the silent air and your eyes snapped open, hurriedly looking over your shoulder before jolting upright. “Your hair is sticking out everywhere.” A voice said casually. “Cute.”

The chill from the midnight breeze crashed against you like an icy tidal wave. Across the room, and casually perched on your windowsill, was Eddie. You rubbed the side of your face and groaned, promptly shoving your face back onto your baby pink pillows. You should’ve been worried, frightened even, that he had broken into your room, but the only emotion you could manage was exhaustion. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was muffled as you spoke into the fabric.

This must’ve been a figment of his depraved imagination, a scene plucked from his dreams—you were languidly sprawled across your blankets and wearing nothing but a small nightgown. And that nightgown revealed the softness of your breasts as you slowly faced him, your bare ass peeking beneath the thin fabric. As you pressed your cheek against your palm, finally offering your hazy attention, the breath was stolen from lungs and he subtly latched onto the windowsill to steady himself. “You know, those friends back there didn’t really seem like friends. Just an observation.” He was stalling. He knew he was, but he was desperate for a semblance of normality.

You breathed in sharply. “Well, you can keep your observations to yourself.”

It was silent for a beat. “You wanna hear another observation?” He didn’t care if you didn’t.

You yawned, blinking slowly. “Not really, but I’m sure you're going to share anyway.”

He smiled, thoroughly enjoying the annoyance searing your voice. “I think you like being around me because you don’t have to pretend. You can be your mean, stubborn, and bratty self around me. Around them, you have to be The Head Cheerleader.” You weren’t even focusing on the coldness filling the room or even acknowledging that he was inside your room. That hadn’t been processed completely. Yet. “It’s obvious. I don’t know how no one else doesn’t notice.”

Through your sleepy gaze, you narrowed your eyes. “You think you know me, Munson?”

“No, I do know you.” He answered so surely. “I think you’re forgetting I grew up with you.” That wasn’t something you could ever forget even if you had tried. And you had desperately. “You were my first-ever crush. I was obsessed with you. Still am, by the way.” He casually added. “I grew up watching you. I memorized everything about you. I even watched those damn pep rallies for you. Failed classes so you could be my tutor. I even bribed Mr. Johnson so I could be your partner for the project that let me see those pretty little panties of yours.”

He moved away from the windowsill and loomed closer to the edge of your bed. “So I need you to understand something. You were my first and only crush. You were my first of many wet dreams. You were the only girl who made me nervous and made me feel like some lovesick loser because you looked at me. There were times when I couldn’t fucking function because you smelled so good, said something so damn smart in class, or yelled at Carver for being a dick. I need you to understand I have been and still am, fucking crazy for you and you kissed me.”

He kneeled, his tentative hands softly caressing your thighs before pressing a small kiss on your knee. “I need you to understand that I’m the loser who plays D&D with freshmen, sells weed, and hasn’t had a girlfriend, who fucking watches porn to practice for this exact moment and you’re you.” Another gentle kiss on your other knee. “And, fuck, you’re so perfect. The goddamn prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” A kiss on your thigh. “So damn smart.” Another kiss on your other thigh. “And you’re funny. You challenge me.” His nose nudged the hem of your nightgown as he licked the inside of your thigh. “So I do know you and I know you like me. And that’s something I can’t wrap my head around.”

You shuddered as his breath brushed against your skin, unintentionally wrapping your leg around his shoulder, your calf pressed against his back, pulling him closer. You whispered his name, a plead for something. Anything. Your voice, breathless and desperate, was a siren’s call and he would’ve swam to the depths of the darkest ocean to hear it again and again.

The words uttered from his flushed lips were barely processed as lifted the hem of your nightgown. His eyes rolled to the back of his head before closing them, almost as if he were murmuring a silent prayer, and he took a moment to admire the godly sight before him. Hidden beneath the softness of your nightgown and thighs was something he had only dreamed of. Yeah, of course, he’d seen pussies before. From porn, mind you, but this was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. He didn’t understand how you, probably the most perfect woman to ever roam this earth, had just become even better.

You could feel each slow breath from him as he simply admired. “Do something.” You whispered. Your voice was a soft reminder that he needed to move, do something as you put it. Slowly, his tongue dragged across your pussy and a primal groan escaped his mouth. He pulled away suddenly and you glanced at him curiously. He looked concentrated, brows scrunched together in deep thought. “I-Is something wrong?”

A moment passed and he shook his head. “I’m just trying not to cum.” He eventually said.

You threw your head back and laughed, which was stifled by a moan as he shoved his head back between your thighs. His initial movements were experimental, unsure, but as he continued and listened to your sounds, he knew what he was doing. Sort of. “Fuck, yes.” Your voice was unrecognizable to your own ears and the moans slipping from your lips were unlike anything you had made when alone.

This was the exact moment where Eddie decided he was going to marry you in the future. But first he was going to make you cum.

With his tongue still flicking against your clit, occasionally sucking, he unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock from the confines of his clothes. Your legs shook as he shoved two ringed fingers inside you, slowly pumping you and memorizing every detail of this moment before he gathered the juices of your arousal and jerked himself off. “So fucking wet.” He said, pathetically whining as the pornographic sound of your wetness coated his cock. “I don’t know how I lived this long without tasting you.”

Your thighs pressed against his face as your hand pulled his hair and he promptly decided if he were to die tonight, he would die a happy man. This is where he belonged. Most men wanted to be businessmen, sleep on a bed full of money with dozens of women keeping them company, but he didn’t. His face shoved between your shaking thighs, sucking on your clit as you yanked his hair and moaned his name, was where he belonged. “Please don’t stop.” You pleaded. And as much as Eddie loved hearing you yell at him, he decided this was how he wanted to hear you from now on. "Yes, yes, yes. Don't stop."

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my pretty girl.” God, him and that nickname were going to be the death of you.

“I-I’m gonna—” Your voice cracked and you couldn’t finish your own sentence.

His hand clutched your thigh with a newfound roughness, pulling your closer, and his other hand squeezed and tugged his leaking cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Come for me.” His pace and movements didn’t change or falter. “Give it to me. Come for me, please. I need it.”

At that moment, you decided Eddie wasn’t going anywhere. He was never getting rid of you because he ate your pussy like a starving man and made you cum until you saw twinkling stars. “You have the filthiest fucking mouth—”

His wet mouth pressed against yours, his hands coated with your juices and he clutched your cheek. “You taste that?” He asked after pulling away, his lips faintly brushed against yours, teasing. “That’s the taste of the prettiest girl—” He kissed you again and you were barely able to process the softness of his mouth against you before he pulled away again. “Who fucking likes me and can’t deny it.”

And his knees buckled as you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you. “What have you done to me, Eddie Munson?” You mumbled. He could feel your glittering smile against his and there wasn’t anything more beautiful.

He saw the gilded walls surrounding your heart and decided he was going to do everything he could to get there. He poked and prodded, tugged and pulled before deciding to take a jackhammer and destroy everything keeping him from you. “My five-year plan of seducing you finally worked.” And he stopped for only a moment, processing the mere fact that this was real. He was really touching you, tasting you, licking your cum off his soaked lips. “I’ve dreamed of this.” His voice was low and below a whisper, his warm breath tickling your face with each word. You could feel the warmth of his lips touching your shoulder, a ghostly caress against your skin.

You placed a few random pecks on his face. “I really like you, Eddie Munson.” There was vulnerability exuding from you, unlike anything he’d ever seen from you before.

“So this is what the famous [Y/N] is like behind closed doors.” The pouring rain soaked the floor outside your room, the grey clouds visible through the droplet-covered windows. "Who would’ve thought my pretty girl was so sweet?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, smacking his arm. “Shut up.” You laughed. He would've fought (and probably lose) anyone just to hear that beautiful sound again and again.

“That’s not what you were saying earlier. Oh, Eddie, please don’t stop. I’m gonna cum!” He mocked with an obnoxiously high pitched voice.

You decided a another kiss would be the best way to shut him up. “God, you’re so pretty I’m gonna faint.” He mumbled, squeezing your breasts and pinching your hardened nipples. “Can I please fuck you? If I don’t fuck you and cum inside that pretty pussy, I think I’ll die.”

You moaned into his mouth and he gratefully swallowed the sound. “Yeah, come on, Eds, fill me up.”

“Fuck yes.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fics #eddie munson filth #eddie munson fic

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knavesflames · 1 month ago

Note

chat this contains sh DO NYAT read if uncomfy

putting this in ur ask box cos im desperate for it to be written on my knees screaming

genshin girlies tracting their s/os skin where they see scars while u cuddle naked maybe after a sesh or even just skin to skin cuddling and they speak softly telling you you did a good job and everything and even kissing them AUGH HEHEHRHEHEGRGEGRGRGRGRBDJFJSLANHAHA

Hi <3 sorry this took me so long to get to! I have had a whirlwind of health struggles both mental and physical but I am trying to Lock In again. I’m sorry you went through such tough times :( I understand, and I get the struggle, if you get what I’m implying. Stay safe and healthy fr<3

Word count: 867

Content: sh implied in the past but it’s not graphic, just briefly mentioned, talk of scars, fluff

tw utc

Arlecchino has a rule— as blunt as she may be, she isn’t as cruel as the world likes to make her out to be. Judgemental, though she is, she refuses to comment on something that a person cannot change. She deems it basic decency (it is), but even some of the most polite people she knows don’t hesitate before speaking, or, well, looking. Despite the discomfort she knows you experience when people’s eyes wander and dwell on the exact thing you don’t want them to look at, she herself has never done so. Curious, she has to admit she has been, as would most be if they had a girlfriend with such marks littering her skin. Purely out of concern and care does she wish to know the story of what led you to make such decisions. She does not ask. Arlecchino herself has scars from countless hours of training herself to execute ‘Mother’, ones she keeps hidden under the fabric of her pristine white suit. Ones only you have seen, during moments of intimacy when the night is dark and the air in the room is so suffocatingly warm. You know her story, so you don’t ask.

It seems to be a cycle. She sees them, says nothing, and holds back from doing what she’d really like to do for fear of being insensitive or revealing the softness she keeps hidden. The marks are hidden again, and neither of you say a word. In truth, they shouldn’t be the main focus of the conversation and she understands that, but a part of her yearns to know you, and to understand the parts of you that you’ve refused to reveal.

On the days she catches you staring just a little too longingly at That Drawer in the kitchen, or the days where you seem a little more miserable than usual when you glance at your skin, she’s sure to pull you away from the mirror or the kitchen under the guise of needing you to look over some of the plans for the orphanage, or needing to go shopping. She’s so good at doing so, you don’t even notice she’s done it until hours later.

One particular night, after multiple hours of pleasure and mumbled words of affection, she decides to be bold. Hesitantly, her blackened hand reaches to rest on your thigh. The act itself is nothing new, with you, Arlecchino is a very touchy person, always reminding both her and you that you’re hers. Her thumb however, strokes over one particular scar she’s eyed for a while. It’s a feather light touch, testing the waters, and she’s perfectly prepared to lift her hand away should you indicate as such. You do not. You lean into her touch, almost, like you’ve been waiting for her to get comfortable enough to touch them. You become lost in your own thoughts, and you become unaware of how much time passes before her voice cuts through them, as stern as always, but softer than usual.

“Is this recent?” She hums in slight disapproval as her thumb grazes over it, but she says nothing more, which, if you’re honest, you’re grateful for.

“I had a moment,” you mutter in reply, your head buried into her neck. Her perfume still adorns her skin, and you wonder how expensive said perfume must be if it’s been able to last such a long time, and through such strenuous activity. “I realised and I stopped.”

“Good.” A breath, and her voice lowers until it’s barely louder than a murmur. The sincerity is there though, and her lips move against your hair. “I am proud of you. You have done well.”

“I have not done well, it is—“

“You would not have stopped four years ago. Or two, for that matter. Any progress is better than no progress.” Arlecchino’s voice is gentle, yet unwavering. When you go to protest again, she can practically see the words form before your voice can carry them. ��Of course I know how often you were doing it. I am no fool. I said nothing because begging someone to stop doing something when they do not wish to stop is a fruitless endeavour and harmful for both parties in the long run. I just wished you would speak to me if you needed.”

You decide to continue letting her trace every scar she finds on your body. She traces random shapes with the tip of her nail (lucky for you, she filed them a while ago. For.. other reasons). In a moment of affection, she traces little hearts over each one, never missing one, and never giving one more care than another. Both of you stay silent, but the words don’t need to be spoken, and any words that did, have already been said. Arlecchino sees no need in making you uncomfortable when she knows you’ll speak if you need.

Speak you do, eventually, and she remains silent as she listens, giving the occasional nod or ‘mm’ to reassure you that she’s listening. She files all of the information away into her mind, and vows to herself she won’t forget a single word. Arlecchino vows she will love you always.

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jen-with-a-pen · 2 months ago

Text

(In Your) Arms Tonight - 2/2

summary: Wade tests out his previous hypothesis with great success. Might experiment more later.

pairing: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson / Worst Wolverine x Deadpool

word count: 3.6k

warnings: MDNI 18+, Wade's POV-ish, blowjob, itty bitty blood mention, slight angst, nightmares/PTSD, pining, cursing, claws, crude humor and language, fluff, touching, *cue start of something new from high school musical*, Wade's a little shit, cum drinking bc i guess that's what happened, deepthroating, lowkey face fucking, bad flirting but it's kinda reciprocated, wade is the throat goat next question, wade kissed his roommate and they both liked it

a/n: here she is :') thanks yall for the patience and all of the magnificent love and comments for part one ❤❤❤ means the world to me, especially since it's my first time stepping out of stucky territory as a whole. also got a little away with the tags 😅 hope yall enjoy this !

Not beta'd. Half-written on my phone, edited and revised in ellipsus + gdocs. Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes!

If I've missed any tags, PLEASE let me know!

gif by @tomshiddles | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ❤️

My AO3 | My Masterlist

Read this fic HERE on AO3

❤️ Reblogs and comments are appreciated, as always ❤️

PART ONE | PART TWO

Wade forgot to turn the AC back on.

It's his turn to sleep in bed tonight and he's got the worst case of swamp ass you can get this far from a fucking swamp. He's already thrown the covers, sheets, pillows, and his boxers off; he swears if he gets up there will be a sweaty version of a goddamn chalk outline on his mattress.

He stretches. Notices he can feel both hands now, fully grown and everything, fingernails and all. Smirks to himself as he flexes his new fingers before reaching over to the nightstand– it's actually a really sturdy cardboard box, but it works just as good– for his phone. The screen responds with a bright 3:02AM overlayed on a photo of him and Vanessa.

There's a pang in his heart for a moment. The same type of twist and pull he felt when Logan got up to leave after their big adventure (AKA saving their universe.)

“See you around?”

Wade tried to swallow the hard lump of desperate hope that had been bubbling inside of him the entire time they ate their shawarma. Hopes it wasn't obvious in his voice. Not a total cry for help, but definitely more of a solemn whimper and puppy dog eyes.

No matter how many times he was used to it– the people he loved leaving or dying or what have you– it still stung like a bitch.

“Probably not.”

And Logan didn't mean for it to come out so harshly, but that's what happened when– and if– he got too close. To anyone. To everyone.

With that, Logan rose from the bench, gathering his cowl and TVA jacket up from the place on the bench separating him and Wade and started walking. Dogpool whined and scratched at Wade's arms to chase after him.

Wade had to do something. Anything. He couldn't let this one– this Logan. His Logan– walk off into the sunset.

No.

Not without him.

“Logan!”

And then he turned around.

And now they're here.

He feels a similar yank and tear elsewhere in his body– lower belly, groin area– whenever thoughts wander back to that glorious time in the Honda Odyssey; Adamantium stabbing in and out of his chest cavity, puncturing his lungs and literally taking his breath away. The tight feeling of multiple seat belts holding him down to the second row passenger seat and the sickeningly happy grin adorning Logan's face when he tied the last knot. Wade remembers smiling just as bright under his mask.

That one definitely got filed into ye ole spank bank for safe keeping.

Sighing, Wade remembers he's sweating like a hog and drops his legs over the edge, planting two clammy feet onto the creaky floorboards. He throws on his previously discarded pair of boxers just in case Logan has a case of insomnia. Gotta take a man out to dinner before you show him your dick, like a gentleman.

Wade peaks his head out into the living room, TV glow assaulting his pupils like a flash bang. The door creaks open wider and Wade steps further out. He doesn't want to wake either furball– you'd be surprised how grumpy Dogpool gets when she doesn't get her beauty sleep– as he tiptoes out in front of the couch.

His breath catches in his chest.

Logan lies propped up on the couch, head resting on the arm with a throw pillow behind for support, arms crossed over a bare, hairy chest rising and falling slowly. A sheen of sweat coats his skin that reflects the changing colors of the TV. Half a snuffed cigar smolders on the coffee table ashtray. The semi-permanent crease between his brows is softer, perfect pink lips parted as he snores quietly.

And to top it all off, he's in his fucking boxers; his jeans are discarded on the opposite end of the couch, kicked off in his sleep to beat the heat.

Wade can't breathe. He can't help but stare, committing the heavenly scene to memory. A knowing smile slowly spreads across his chapped lips.

He's happy. Happy at how peaceful his roommate looks. Happy that Logan is finally feeling safe enough to sleep here. Genuinely. Wade knows first hand what it can be like to be constantly on the run, chasing peace and release, rest and safety.

Tip toes make way to the thermostat, Wade presses the 'on' button to the AC when there's stirring behind him. Head turning slowly, he catches the tail end of Logan mumbling something in his sleep.

“...Wade, please.”

Wade freezes like a carjacker caught in an impound lot. Surely he didn't hear Logan, his roommate Logan– The X-Man, The Wolverine– fucking whining Wade's name in his sleep.

What were the symptoms of heat stroke, again?

Wade shuffles back over to the couch. Feels like a creep watching his fucking roommate sleep, waiting another moment to see if he needs to take a power drill and give himself a DIY lobotomy or not.

“Mm… No, Wade…No, please, don't–” Logan murmurs softly. Struggling, brow furrowing, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Ngh… Don't hurt ‘im… please.”

Logan begins to shake. His head whips from side to side against the pillow, hands dig into the couch cushions, grunting, fists clenching as his claws itch to defend from the phantom threat. Muscles tensing and chest heaving, his breathing grows harder, faster, more frantic.

He's having a nightmare.

Wade recognizes the signs immediately. He knows where Logan's at: some distant memory with talons and sharp teeth assaulting his brain without him knowing. Hell on earth on the worst nights, a light ego beating and insomnia on the better ones.

Wade knows– his stopped two months ago. When Logan came home.

Without another thought– one in which he probably should’ve given– Wade climbs onto the couch to straddle Logan’s hips in the most non-horny way he can make it. Hands press into the center of Logan's chest. He gently calls his name, preparing for the sharp stab of Adamantium through an appendage and/or organ. Nothing he isn't used to at this point, but he secretly prays it isn't something totally major.

“Logan. Peanut, hey,” Wade whispers. He presses further into Logan, heat radiating off rough, hairy skin into Wade's tingling fingers. “Logan, it's me, Wade. You're having a nightmare, you’re scaring the kids–”

SHNK. Intestines. Ten or fifteen points, depending on if it's big or small. Wade's thankful it wasn't a kidney or his stomach– those are a bitch and a half to grow back.

“Okay– that was maybe warranted,” Wade grunts. Both sets of claws penetrate straight through his lower abdomen as Logan jolts awake, sitting up as much as he can while pinned under Wade. A gnarled scream catches in his throat. White-hot knuckles graze the skin of Wade's stomach, who is really, really trying his hardest not to get a boner right now.

“Th’fuck's goin’ on?” Logan slurs, face inches from Wade's bare chest. He blinks. Once. Twice. His brow returns to its permanent crease as he adjusts to the scene before him: bright TV glow contrasts with dark shadows Wade casts over him.

Wade is on top of him and his claws are inside of Wade.

Face scrunching– not inherently in disgust, Wade hopes– claws retract with a muted grunt. Wade can breathe again while his body begins repairing itself. His hands are stuck to Logan's heaving chest, fingers fanning out over each delicious pec. Thick arms rest on either side of him, elbows bent and resting on Wade's thighs.

Wade swallows, praying the man currently underneath him either A. doesn't know where his hands are at the moment or B. this is going exactly the way he wet-dreamt it a few weeks ago. Completely unprompted too, by the way– he's no stranger to the sick side effects of PTSD, he wouldn't knowingly exploit that in order to get into his roommate's pants. He's got more class than that.

Well, most of the time, that is. Again, completely unintentional. Coincidence, if you will.

Maybe he does need that DIY lobotomy.

"Where th'hell am I?" Logan asks, voice less threatening and more alert. His eyes flick from the TV and travel up Wade to meet sympathetic chocolate eyes already on him. Wade peels each finger off Logan's chest and sits back on his knees. Gaze softening, hands fall into his lap inches above the chiseled V pointing to down under Logan's boxers. He doesn't dare move a fucking muscle.

His pinky finger twitches.

"You're okay. You're here, in my world, Peanut. Twenty-first century. New York. We use fifty-cals now, not muskets. You were having a nightmare–"

Wade's throat hitches. He's not gonna cry, no– he's not that much of a fucking empath, for chrissake– but what he wants to say versus what he probably should say get lodged together on the way down to his mouth from his brain.

"I– I did the pressure thing Dogpool does with me, sometimes. Except I thought you'd wanna wake up to this pretty face 'nd not one with drool."

Logan looks skeptical, searches Wade to see if he's actually telling the truth for once, features relaxing once he mulls it over in his head. Wade's gnawing at the inside of his cheek when Logan's thumbs subconsciously start rubbing slow circles over the toughened skin of his upper thigh. Upper-outer, to be exact, but right now Wade doesn't really want to dwell on the minute details.

"So," Logan starts, "you woke me up… 'cause I was havin' a nightmare…?"

"Well, not exactly because you were having a nightmare, no." Wade runs a hand over the top of the couch, distracting himself. "Al really likes this couch. Antique, actually. Vintage find. Be a shame if some man with claws–"

Logan's palms press into Wade's thighs. A warning.

"Mouth."

Wade sighs. Hands fall into his lap once more and he is absolutely not fighting to gawk at Logan's V that lights up like a road work sign pointing to a detour. The semi-hard abs just above definitely do not make him want to run his fucking tongue across them like a cheese grater.

He looks back to Logan, clears his throat. "Look I– I've been there. Am there, honestly. Didn't want you t'be alone whenever you woke up, but I also know how hard it is to wake up. So," he shrugs, voice lowering, "thought I'd help. Help you come down from it, I mean."

Logan stares back in response, eyes trained on Wade like a hunting dog and a downed fox. Wade swears the corner of his lip twitches along with the meaty hands on his legs.

He's gotta get the fuck out of here.

"So!" Wade starts, "Seems everything's in working order. The doctor will be in soon–" Wade starts to scramble off before realizing Logan's holding him down. Sharp claw stubs poke into scarred skin and a deep growl rumbles out of Logan's chest. Not necessarily threatening, no, more of a 'you're not goin' anywhere.' Wade gulps, hands raise up jokingly, forcing his racing mind to think of a naked, cross-country skiing Al to stave off the blood violently rushing to his stubborn cock.

Logan sits up, closing the space between him and Wade. Hazel eyes study wide brown ones. Logan takes a breath, shaky but sure.

"Don't want y't'go. Not– not yet."

It's hesitant. Unsure but curious, quiet enough Wade thinks he's hallucinating again. Wade mulls it over, leans forward with hands back on Logan's chest, skin and muscles taught underneath with tactile tension.

Wade sucks in a breath, moves his hands higher to Logan's collarbone and it's grossly apparent how tense Logan is. Hostile to any sudden movement, untrusting of touch to the point his fists shake against Wade's legs. A slow, tender hand inches up Logan's throat and onto his cheek. Wade feels through the rough facial hair and unkempt stubble, a thumb finds the shaved spot at the point of Logan's chin and strokes gently. Fists start to unclench, but there's a hesitancy still lingering in the air, under Logan's skin. Wade thinks it smells like fear. Inches away, face to face, breaths fan eachother's faces.

There's a shift in the air and Wade leans forward.

Logan doesn't stop Wade from connecting them together, lips touching lips in the softest manner possible. Almost feels like there's nothing there, Wade's too gentle. Nobody moves, breathes, at first; they're each trying to make sense of what the fuck exactly is happening. Logan isn't saying no, isn't sawing through Wade's skull and Wade isn't pushing himself on Logan.

Okay, maybe leaning in to kiss his roommate might be pushing himself on Logan to the logical bystander, but in the moment it just felt right.

To Wade's surprise, Logan's the first to move.

His lips start molding into Wade's. There's pressure, a little pushing, chapped skin and the remnants of tobacco on his breath when his lips part and his tongue pokes ever-so-slightly through. Wade pushes back, hoping his breath isn't as abhorrently delicious as leftover cigar. He tilts his head, nose poking into Logan's cheek as his does Wade's, and lets his tongue explore a little more. Logan allows him in, meeting him at the tip and hungrily welcoming him. Breaths turn heavy, panting, while hands begin to roam, more comfortable now that they've crossed the line into 'spit swapping' territory.

Wade drinks him in. Greedily swallows the choked-back groans Logan keeps holding in his throat that come out as muted mewls. Fingernails wantonly dig into one another and leave temporary marks that disappear under rapid replacement cells.

It feels like forever when Wade finally comes up for air, unable to focus with the growing hardness digging into his thigh.

"I–fuckin' shit– I think I have an idea." Wade pants like a dog in heat– and fuck, he might as well be at this point. Logan pulls back with lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

"'s that?" He's hesitant. Hands tense slightly over Wade's back, his whole body stiffens.

"Do you– do you trust me?"

Wade holds his breath.

Logan only nods. Adam's apple bobbing, lips part in anticipation and curiosity.

Wade strokes Logan's cheek in reassurance, shoots him a wink before shimmying down his body to the other end of the couch, keeping Logan's legs in between his thighs. Fingers hook around Logan's boxers, in turn causing Logan to jolt up immediately. A set of claws unsheathe an inch away from Wade's throat.

"Th'fuck are you doin'?"

Wade only smiles, taking a hand away and kissing the tip of the middle claw, gently pushing it back into Logan's fist and coaxing him to lay back down. What he's about to do would be easier with an in-tact esophagus.

"Relax, Peanut," Wade coos, "'m not gonna hurtcha."

Logan stares at Wade. Eyes pinch, still suspicious.

"…Promise?"

A sharp pang ripples through Wade's heart.

"Promise."

Logan hesitates, relaxes, gives another go-ahead. Wade's fingers curl once again around the waistband of his boxers and slowly, but surely, pull them down and off him. He can't help the immediate salivatory reflex upon seeing Logan in all his glory; the deep V lights up like a fucking Vegas sign pointing straight to the jackpot.

Logan's big– like, big big. Biggest Wade's ever seen (and Wade's seen a LOT.) An automatic response, Wade's asshole clenches, mistakenly preparing to take Logan. Wade forces himself to relax– that's not happening tonight. He promised Logan he'd go slow, no surprises, no whipped cream or leather cuffs.

Not yet, at least.

His own cock weeps happy tears through his briefs. He cannot believe how perfect– how beautiful– how fucking huge Logan is.

"What're you gonna do?" Logan whispers, hesitant eyes hooking on Wade and every little movement he makes.

"If it's alright with you, 1972 Burt Reynolds, 'm gonna suck every ounce of tension out of your perfect, hairy body and make you feel the best you've felt in a looong time."

Logan scoffs a laugh, brow furrowing as he shakes his head slightly. "Don't know who–"

Wade shushes him. "Don't worry, baby girl. I'll be your Sally Field."

Wade smirks at Logan's confusion and mentally makes a note to his future-self to show Logan the glory that is Smokey and the Bandit.

A gentle hand steadies the base of Logan's cock while another slowly wraps around his stiffness, standing at attention and beginning to cry, begging for Wade's touch. Heavy breathing and bitten-back grunts fill Wade's ears. It's a heavenly symphony he's lucky enough to have a front and center seat for. Free ticket, too.

"Ngh– Red, whatever you're gonna do– ah–!"

Wade presses his lips to the base, bush of hair tickling his nose and lips while he kisses his way up to the head, tongue poking out to lap up the precum. Before siccing his lips around Logan, Wade looks up once more, mostly searching for permission to help him feel pleasure for once instead of pain.

Logan reads Wade's mind and sends a small nod in response.

With a shit-eating smirk, Wade welcomes Logan into his mouth, flattening his tongue and curving his lips over his teeth so as not to scratch the sensitive, velvety skin. Drool spills out the corners of Wade's mouth and swallows a gag when Logan jams into the back of his throat, digging into his uvula. Squeezing the base and cupping the balls, Wade begins to bob his head to the rhythm of Logan's mess of 'fuck's, 'shit's, and–

"Mmm–Oh–oh, my god," Logan moans. A calloused hand runs over Wade's bald head, scars and grafts rippling under his touch while another hand grips tightly onto the side of the couch. Wade slurps up every drop of precum, relishing in the sweet musk of Logan's scent, head bobbing and tongue swirling in tandem. Logan's hips buck up into Wade, fucking his throat without meaning to. No amount of lozenges or peppermint tea will be able to cure the sore throat Wade knows he'll have come morning.

"F–fuck, Wade, baby– shit– that feels so–!"

Another lengthy dive down onto Logan hits the very back of Wade's throat, pulling a long, strenuous 'fuck' from the deepest part of Logan. He bucks harder into Wade who stalls, choking on Logan's cock while his own strains against his briefs. Another swipe of tongue, another gag and seeping drool, and Logan is officially done for.

"F–fuck! Motherfucker! Oh my, god, Wade–!"

Curses and chants and shaky breaths fill the living room as Logan spills into Wade with an 'O' on his lips and a hand on the back of Wade's head. There's a sharp shngk and a sting at the tip of Wade's ear as red warmth drips down onto Logan's thigh; his claws unsheathe into the couch this time, not Wade, who slurps and sucks every last drop of mutant cum from Logan's softening cock like it's the Fountain of fucking Eden.

He comes up for air, finally, lungs gasping against a swollen, fucked throat. He sits back panting on his thighs and Logan's legs underneath, a mix of cum and drool and the slightest bit of blood running down his cheeks and neck. Wiping away the mess with the back of a hand, blurry vision focuses back into reality and onto his roommate.

His roommate. Logan. Wolverine. Who's dick he just sucked the ever-living hell out of.

Well this is awkward.

Wade swallows, offers a crooked half-smile to the man who he just sucked, fucked, and milked dry.

"How 'bout them Yankees?"

Logan barks a laugh. A real, genuine laugh, one with teeth and spread lips and legitimate amusement. Wade preens.

"That was–" Logan wipes beads of sweat off his brow, "Fuck it. That was fuckin' amazing, Wade." He stuffs a hand behind his head, blinks a couple of times to recalibrate. "Didn't know that mouth did anything else 'sides talk."

Wade shrugs cutesily. "It impresses me sometimes, too. Helps when I have a willing participant. Just hope you signed the paperwork."

Logan shakes his head. Arms reach up to grab onto Wade, pulling an ear to Logan's lips.

"Now how 'bout we take care of you next, baby? Hm?"

\|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/ \|/

Morning sun and a weight on his chests wakes Logan from probably the most peaceful sleep he's had in… well, ever, honestly.

There's a wetness and mix of smells wafting into his nostrils that make him stir next; combination of what feels like a tongue on his cheek making way towards his lips, dog breath, and the sweet smell of something cooking in the kitchen. Eyes fly open when a whine vibrates on his chest, finding himself greeted by Dogpool wagging her rat-tail with eyes bugging out of her little head.

"Gah– get off me, mutt," Logan scolds, sitting up and gently shoving Dogpool onto the couch cushion next to him. He runs a hand over his face and into his hair, the crick in his neck a little less noticeable this morning.

"Gooooood morning, sunshine!"

Logan looks up with tired eyes still adjusting to the morning light to find Wade in his robe covered in flour with a mixing bowl cradled in his arm as he stirs. Last night comes screeching back to Logan as soon as he locks eyes with his roommate, mouth going dry and dick twitching in his boxers.

Wade only smiles, not at all hiding his obvious glance at Logan's crotch. "You want chocolate chips or blueberries in yours?"

Logan shakes his head. "In my what?"

"Pancakes, Peanut. In your pancakes."

"Oh. Yeah." Logan blinks, then scoffs a laugh to himself. "Yeah, Mouth. I'd, ah– blueberries. I'd like blueberries."

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genderlessdude92 · 4 months ago

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IT’S OKAY TO NOT BE OKAY

PAIRING: Alastor x Reader

SUMMARY: In a tranquil meadow near Cannibal Town, Alastor, the Radio Demon, returns to the sanctuary he shares with his beloved y/n, seeking solace from his chaotic life. Upon finding y/n in a state of distress and in the middle of harming herself, he realizes the depth of her pain and the hidden struggles she's been enduring. Through gentle support and heartfelt conversations, Alastor reassures y/n of his unwavering love and commitment, promising to face their challenges together.

WARNINGS: MAJORR ANGST but a really fluffy ending :3, established relationship, a little bit ooc alastor idk, usage of y/n, depression, self harm, mental health struggles, emotional distress, suicidal thoughts, graphic descriptions, mature themes, but all in all a happy ending! short for my mental sake :D

NOTICE: please don't copy or steal or translate any of my work or you will be haunted in your dreams and i will spawn something unpleasant at your porch the next day. But...thanks for liking my work !! >.<

Requests are open, support is highly appreciated!

〰ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ..。.:*･ﾟ♫₊ ♪ *♬‧₊enjoy!~

In the quaint, otherworldly meadow that lay a stone's throw from the bustling Cannibal Town, there stood a house. This house, with its whimsical architecture and warm, inviting glow, was the sanctuary of Alastor, the Radio Demon, and his beloved, y/n. It was a place where the chaos of the Hotel was left behind, replaced by the gentle whispers of the zephyrs that danced through the tall grass and the soft hum of distant demonic activities. The walls were adorned with an eclectic mix of macabre art and personal mementos, a testament to their shared love of the unconventional.

On this particular day, Alastor had managed to carve out some much-needed time from his hectic schedule at the Hotel. The burden of managing the unruly work and maintaining a semblance of order in the underworld had weighed heavily upon him, and he craved the comfort of his partner's embrace. He strolled through the meadow, his dear shadow following behind him, and approached the house with a smile, as always, playing at the corners of his lips. The door creaked open, and he called out, his voice echoing through the stillness, "Y/N, my dear, I'm home!"

Silence greeted him. The house felt eerily empty, the air thick with a tension that was as palpable as the absence of his lover's presence. He stepped into the living room, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of life. The couch was untouched, the books on the shelf undisturbed, and the radio flickered with static.

He made his way to the kitchen, half-expecting to find y/n lost in thought over a cup of tea, but it was as vacant as the rest of the house. His heart sank.

He knew she had been struggling lately, her depression clinging to her like a second skin, and he feared that her inner turmoil had taken a darker turn.

But, he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Maybe she’s just napping or taking a bath, he reassured himself.

Walking down the hallway, the floorboards groaned under his weight, as if sharing his anxiety. He reached their shared bedroom, his heart racing. The door was ajar, and a sliver of soft light peeked through, casting a warm glow across the floor. He pushed it open, his eyes searching the room.

There she was, curled up on the bed, her back to the door. The sight of her brought a wave of relief, until he saw the fresh scars on her arms and thighs. His breath caught in his throat, a silent scream of pain and anger at the sight of her suffering. She hadn't moved since he'd called out, and the quiet was deafening.

Alastor's shadow grew more pronounced, reaching out towards her, a silent plea for her to turn around. When she finally did, her eyes were red and swollen, a stark contrast to the pale, almost ethereal glow of her skin. The room grew colder, the air heavy with her sadness. She looked at him with a mix of guilt and fear, as if she'd been caught in the act of something unforgivable.

"I didn't mean for you to find out," she whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf in a storm. "I just... I couldn't help it."

Alastor felt his heart break into a million pieces. He stepped closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers. His voice was calm, soothing, a stark contrast to the turmoil in his soul. "…Why would you hide this from me, dear?"

That’s when y/n broke. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to shield her own body from his gaze. "I didn't want to be a burden," she choked out. "I know you have enough to deal with at the Hotel. I just... I don’t want you to hate me for being weak." She sobbed, her body convulsing with each painful word.

Alastor's shadow retreated, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. He sat down beside her, his hand reaching out to gently touch her cheek. "I could never hate you," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. "You are the light in my eternal darkness. Your strength is in your ability to keep fighting, even when it seems there's no hope."

He wrapped an arm around her shuddering form, pulling her close so he could plant a soft kiss to her forehead. "You are not a burden," he whispered fiercely. "You are the reason I wake up every day, the reason I continue to fight. I love you, y/n, with every fiber of my being, and nothing will ever change that."

Her sobs grew louder, and she buried her face in his chest, her hands clutching at his shirt. He held her tightly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her back as he rocked her gently. The room was a cocoon of sorrow, but within it, there was a silent promise of understanding and support.

"You can tell me anything," Alastor murmured, his voice barely audible above her cries. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

Y/n took a shaky breath, her voice muffled against his chest. "I know," she said, her words tinged with despair. "But what if one day you just can't handle it anymore?"

Alastor froze. He knew the gravity of her question, the deep-rooted fear that had compelled her to hide her pain from him. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, stroking her hair tenderly once more. "Y/n," he began, his voice firm yet gentle, "I will always handle it. You are the one I want to be with, no matter what demons or angels you- no, we will have to face."

He leaned back to look into her eyes, willing her to see the sincerity behind his words. "I know you're hurting, and I can't pretend to understand the depth of your pain. But I can be here, every step of the way, to support you, to listen, and to help you heal." His hand slid down to gently grasp hers, turning it over to reveal the new scars. "These don't define you," he said, his voice a whisper. "You are so much more than this."

Her gaze fell to their intertwined fingers, the stark contrast of his warm, golden skin against hers a stark reminder of the barriers she felt between them. "But what if I can't stop?" she asked, the question hanging in the air like a specter.

Alastor's grip tightened, his eyes never leaving hers. "We'll find a way together," he assured her. "I won't let you go through this alone."

He lifted her chin with his free hand, his eyes searching hers for any hint of belief. "Look at me," he urged, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "You are not alone. I am here, and I will always be here.”

Y/n's gaze was a tumultuous sea of doubt and pain, but there was a flicker of hope that grew stronger with each passing moment. "Promise?" she whispered, her voice a shaky plea.

"I promise," he said solemnly, leaning in to kiss her again, this time with a gentle firmness that spoke of his unwavering dedication to her.

They sat there for a while longer, wrapped in the quiet comfort of their shared embrace. The shadows in the room danced in the fading light, but the love between them remained steadfast, a beacon that pierced through the gloom.

As the sobs subsided, Alastor began to talk again, his voice low and calming. He shared his own experiences with pain and loneliness, the moments that had driven him to his darkest corners. He spoke of his regret for the sins of his past, and the solace he had found in her love.

He told her about the Hotel, the chaos that was his daily life, and how her presence made it all seem bearable. "You're not just my partner," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're my sanity, my reason to keep going."

Her eyes searched his, and she could see the truth in every word. Slowly, she unfurled from her protective ball, allowing his warmth to seep into her very bones. She leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder, her breathing evening out.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Alastor murmured after a long silence. He stood, pulling her with him. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he led her to the bathroom, filling the tub with warm water and adding a soothing scent that reminded her of their first date.

Together, they washed away the physical evidence of her pain, his touch tender as he helped her into the tub. He sat beside her, not saying a word, his presence a silent promise that he would be there for her, no matter what.

As the water turned pink with the remnants of her self-inflicted torment, she felt a weight lifting from her. It wasn't gone, not entirely, but it was lighter. With each ripple of the water, she felt a piece of her anguish being carried away.

When they emerged from the bathroom, refreshed and clean, the sun had set, leaving a soft, velvety darkness in its wake. Alastor led her back to the bed, now made up with fresh linens, and tucked her in. He laid beside her, holding her close, his wings wrapping around them like a protective blanket.

Their conversation grew quiet, their hearts beating in sync. They talked about their fears, their hopes, and their love for one another. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, y/n felt truly seen, truly understood.

And as they drifted off to sleep— well, maybe just y/n because Alastor usually just watches her— the shadows of the room grew less menacing, the silence less oppressive. In the quiet of the night, wrapped in the warmth of Alastor's embrace, she realized that maybe, just maybe, she could face another day without the comfort of her destructive habits.

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END NOTES: HIII!!! This is, erm, not like the other fics i write, but i like comforting the community soooo if you struggle with these things, this one is for you!!! I originally wrote this for myself after an ‘episode’, but i feel like this one can be comforting to others as i said before. If you ever need somebody to talk to and are struggling with any of these things, please contact, like text or call, the number 988! i love you guys, goodnight!

-Lynn Lazybones

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MASTERLIST LINK

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you

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redsrooftopprincess · 2 months ago

Text

Assassin, Part 3

Fem Reader x Raphael

Warning: graphic description of a bipolar crash (or, at least how I experience them) over this chapter and the next. Please take care of yourselves and don't read if you think it might trigger you. Much love to my fellow rapid-cyclers. 💚

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

After the storm of emotion had passed, Splinter sat with Raphael until the moon had crossed over the house, discussing the matter more calmly with his son. Eventually, Raphael felt stable enough to at least make it to bed.

The front steps groaned under his weight, and the paint flaked off the banister like snow in July, as he made his way up the front porch. Today had been a lot.

It had started out beautifully. The early morning mist held fast to the light of dawn as the five of you spent the morning setting everything up. Light swirled around your waist as you worked on place settings, and he was pulled to you.

He walked up behind you, just watching for a moment, affection blooming in his chest. You had ruined his life in the best possible way. Meeting you had brought up so many things he thought he'd let go of a long time ago. It made him hurt in ways he can't even begin to describe. And he is so very grateful.

You'd held each other, swimming in the golden light, and for just one moment he knew how it felt to hold sunlight in his arms.

Then, the ceremony.

Raphael reaches for the screen door handle and depresses the button, pulling it open. The hinges screech their usual protestations, and he cringes as the sound digs the exhaustion headache further into his skull.

That low had hit hard and he should have been expecting it. It'd been a minute since he got triggered like that, but you've always had a way of getting inside his head... You were so damn beautiful...

"Hey," you'd said, peeking around the door to the "boys room" where Casey and the guys were drinking waiting. "You guys almost ready?" When you stepped around and into the room, Raphael forgot how to breathe.

Perfectly coifed and painted in pin curls and neutral make up, and adorned with matching teardrop moissanites in your ears and around your neck (a pre-wedding gift from your brother), you looked like you'd stepped off the silver screen in 1940.

The silk of your floor length forest green dress flowed around you like ink in water, and the thin straps holding it up might as well have been non-existent. His eyes followed the curve of your neck down to your shoulder. His mouth watered and his mind wandered. He wondered what it would taste like. He looked away. Fuck's sake. Couldn't he just look at his beautiful friend in peace?

Minutes later, you'd slipped your arm through his as the two of you waited for your cue to walk down the aisle. A light dusting of pink bloomed in your cheeks when his arm had brushed against your silk covered breast, and your warmth radiated through contact. That warmth poured into his veins, and he felt something in his chest begin to spin.

It had been such a good week. Too good. And some part of him knew that. He'd drawn a deep breath, and exhaled, maintaining a mask of calm. He could feel the crash coming, and prayed he could at least make it to the other side of the wedding before it hit.

He'd spent the week in bliss, planning, packing, driving, and setting up his best friend's wedding with the most beautiful, sweet, smart, and sassy woman in the world. Now, he was going to pay for it.

Don't think about it. Don't think about where you are, or what this is, or that she's literally about to walk down an aisle with you. *Don't* think about it.

The awaited cue came and the two of you stepped out into the early evening light. He'd tried so hard not to look at you as you crossed the threshold, but it had been a lost cause from the beginning.

A Summer Goddess walked beside him. Skin full of golden sunlight, you'd caught his eye out of the corner of yours and your playful smile could have lit up the world. When three steps in the skirt of your dress fully bloomed to reveal a scandalous amout of leg from the slit three-quarters of the way up your thigh, he nearly tripped.

Every look, every brush of silk against his skin sent ripples through him, pushing the spinning in his chest faster. It was the longest twenty-five feet of his life.

When you reached the archway, you turned to him and your hand slid, feather light, down his arm into his. He gazed down at you and smiled.

He wanted to stop you. To pull back on your hand and pull you into him. To take his own and place it softly against your cheek, the other around your waist. He wanted to look into your eyes with every word he's choked down since the moment he met you. He wanted to slide his hand into your hair, tilt your head up, and capture your mouth with his.

This was the closest he would ever get.

With one last gentle squeeze, your hand slipped from his, and his fingers tingled from the loss of contact. You'd each walked to your respective places, and when the music changed over and Bride walked down the aisle, all eyes were on April.

Except his.

.....

Less a lover, more a fighter

But I'm tired of fighting to hold on

Got too many scars to hide them

So it's easier being on my own

But you

Shoot first, draw blood, before I know

Yeah you

One shot, one touch, and I let go

How did this happen?

My walls were up and

You moved without a sound

Never imagined, like an assassin

One look to me down

Assassin - Sultan + Shepherd

...

Tag list:

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll

#bayverse raphael #tmnt raphael #bayverse raphael x reader #raphael x reader #raph x reader #tmnt raphael x reader #SoundCloud

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theetherealbloom · 11 months ago

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WHERE DO WE GO NOW? - CH. 3 | 14th Doctor

Chapter Three: Guess The Space Was The Thing That I Needed, But I Miss You

Summary: You arrived on present-day Earth engulfed in violence and chaos. And a familiar foe who transcends the universe’s laws and logic. He hails from a realm where science is a game, but that salt trick apparently blurred the lines of reality enough for him to enter your universe.

Pairing: 14th Doctor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt-to-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Possible Plot Holes, Vague Background, Aliens, Mild Horror, Violence, Past Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Timey-Wimey Stuff, Star-Crossed Lovers, Second Chance, Character Death,

Word Count: 15.5k

A/N: Hello old friend, and here we are, you and me on the last… chapter. When I posted the first chapter of this mini-series I was honestly terrified of the response I would be getting. I hadn’t been writing for a while due to stress or lack of motivation. But then the miracle called the Doctor Who specials came into existence and here we are. Also, Merry Christmas Eve! Here’s my little gift to you. I hope you enjoy. (P.S. yes there will be an epilogue :>)

Song: This Love by Taylor Swift (Taylor's Version)

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

ENGLAND, THE STREETS OF LONDON — DAY, 2023

The world descends into turmoil and pandemonium as cars collide, their metal frames screeching against each other. The air is filled with the cacophony of people shouting and screaming. Amidst the mayhem, you, the Doctor, and Donna navigate the tumult, pushing Wilf's wheelchair through the chaotic landscape. Struggling through the disarray, people around you engage in fights and heated arguments, adding to the surreal spectacle of disorder unfolding.

As the rumble of a truck engine grows louder, a man defiantly strides onto the road, seemingly prepared to challenge the oncoming driver. Reacting swiftly, both you and the Doctor extend your arms, urgently intervening. You exclaim, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Excuse me. Can you tell me, what the bloody hell are you doing?"

The elderly man, with an air of self-assuredness, retorts, "I can’t drive."

Perplexed, you furrow your brow and inquire, "Okay, so— Which means?"

Meanwhile, a car behind you impatiently honks, prompting the Doctor to raise his hand, signaling the driver to wait. Unperturbed, the stranger in front of you explains, "I pay my taxes. Which means I paid for this road. It is mine, and I will do with it what I like."

The Doctor interjects, cautioning, "You’ll get yourself killed."

The man, with a sneer and a narrowed gaze, replies, "It’s my life, not yours." Undeterred, the Doctor suggests, "But you could just stand over there and be safe."

Flailing his arms emphatically, the man retorts, "Blame them! Because it all changed two days ago. Everyone started thinking they’re right all the time. And they won’t change their mind. If you try to argue, they go mad. Well, not me. I’ve always been right."

The deafening honk of the truck intensifies as it barrels forward, compelling the Doctor to swiftly seize you and yank you out of harm's way. In the chaos, you unintentionally collide with a well-dressed man adorned in a tuxedo, complete with a top hat and a staff in his left hand. Apologizing in a refined manner, he utters, "Oh, excusez-moi, madame et monsieur, je suis désolé. But perhaps you will dance avec moi."

He then takes the lead in an impromptu dance, placing his hand just above your waist and swaying with you amidst the bedlam unfolding on the street. In a rather peculiar tone, he utters, "Ooh la la."

Feeling uncomfortable, you gently pull away from the eccentric stranger. The Doctor, sensing your unease, protectively tucks you behind his body and asserts, "That's my wife, sir. Excuse me." With a subtle maneuver, he guides you away, back to where Donna and Wilf are positioned on the side of the street.

Amidst the cacophony of screaming voices echoing through the chaotic streets, the peculiar stranger continues his solo dance, creating a bizarre spectacle in the midst of the turmoil. The distant whirr of a helicopter above adds to the disconcerting atmosphere, leaving you and the Doctor with a growing sense of panic, a shared feeling of confusion about the unfolding events.

Armored vehicles roll onto the scene, their imposing presence and military precision contrasting sharply with the chaotic backdrop. A soldier, wielding a loud megaphone, calls out with urgency, "Attention, the Doctor and the Stargazer! Attention, the Doctor and the Stargazer! Stay where you are. You are UNIT control. Repeat, UNIT control."

The soldiers swiftly move into action, their movements coordinated as they converge on your location. One of them confidently asserts, "Go, go, go! Let’s move! Eyes on, eyes on! I got them." The atmosphere shifts from anarchic confusion to a semblance of organized control as UNIT takes charge.

The authoritative figure from UNIT, Colonel Ibrahim, strides forward, a no-nonsense expression etched on his face. "Doctor, Stargazer, I’m Colonel Ibrahim of UNIT squad five," he declares with military precision. He gestures toward a waiting vehicle, a subtle urgency in his stance.

Donna, the voice of concern, steps forward, her plea directed at the Colonel. "Get him to safety. All right? Never mind about us. I want my grandad safe. All right? You got that?" Her words carry the weight of a granddaughter determined to ensure the safety of her grandad, emphasizing the weight of the situation.

Colonel Ibrahim gives an assertive nod, his military demeanor unwavering. "Yes, ma’am. We’ll keep your family safe," he assures Donna. Wilf, displaying concern for his granddaughter's well-being, encourages her, "You go with the Doctor."

Amidst the organized chaos of UNIT soldiers following orders, a palpable sense of unease settles over you. A feeling of being observed intensifies, prompting you to instinctively clasp the Doctor’s hand. Together, your hearts quicken as you turn to the left, discovering the stranger with whom you shared an odd dance. He stands eerily still, offering a disconcerting smile and a small wave, sending shivers down your spine.

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, LONDON — DAY, 2023

Seated alongside the Doctor in the first helicopter, you peer out of the window, taking in the chaotic scene below. The city is ablaze, casting an eerie glow that turns the world outside into a disorienting spectacle, as if the very fabric of reality has been upended. The second helicopter follows closely, bearing the weight of the TARDIS, an emblem of hope amidst the turmoil. The flickering flames paint a surreal canvas against the night sky, leaving you with a profound sense of displacement.

The helicopter sets down on the helipad at the UNIT headquarters, and as you disembark, the brisk wind from the rotor blades whips through the air. Donna clutches her coat tightly, shouting over the din, "Oh, here comes trouble."

Shirley, in her wheelchair, wheels forward with a wide smile, greeting you with a warm, "I could say the same thing about you." The TARDIS touches down nearby on the helipad, and amidst the noise, the Doctor remarks, "Shirley, you can’t be serious." Shirley squeezes your arm in a friendly greeting.

Chief Scientific Officer Kate, your boss, appears on the scene, her short blonde hair bouncing slightly as she strides towards the group. The Doctor, arms outstretched, exclaims, "And Kate Lethbridge-Stewart. I remember your father working night and day to keep UNIT a secret. Look at you now. Out and proud defending the Earth."

Kate embraces the Doctor tightly before turning to you with a subdued smile, saying, "I fought them all. Robots and insects and yetis and clones. But what do we do this time, Doctor? How do we fight the human race?"

Inside the UNIT headquarters, the large steel doors close behind you, shutting out the chaos. The new HQ unfolds before your eyes, with the hum of radio chatter and the bustle of people. Multiple screens and tables with keyboards fill the room, and a triple giant screen at the center displays various statistics and news outlets reporting the devastation around the world.

Kate hands the tablet to the Doctor, and you lean over to peer at the symbols and graphs displayed on it. The Doctor, engrossed in the data, doesn't look up as he remarks, "Good, good, good. Now, what have we got? Are these worldwide? 'Cause I'm gonna need all of the statistics."

As he turns to his right, an exclamation of surprise escapes him. Your gaze follows his, and there stands a very familiar redheaded companion and colleague. She grins at the Doctor's reaction, and he joyfully exclaims, "Oh! That is the best news! Melanie, hello!"

Both you and the Doctor share a brief hug with Mel, who giggles and adds, "We'll catch up later. We haven't got time." You chime in with a playful, "Ta-da! Surprise, Doctor."

Turning to you, the Doctor asks, "You knew?"

You playfully roll your eyes and retort, "We work together, dear." Mel adds, "We also try to meet every Saturday for a cuppa."

Mel tilts her head slightly, addressing Donna with a warm smile, "I used to be like you. I was one of their companions." Donna gasps, exclaiming, "I wasn't the first redhead?"

With a shake of her head, Mel allows her large red curls to bounce, "No. That was me."

Donna awkwardly chuckles as the Doctor takes his glasses and wears them, quipping, "Although don't say companion. That sounds like we park him on the seafront at Weston-super-mare."

As Shirley pushes herself off the wheelchair, standing and giving Donna a look, Donna suddenly realizes what she said and turns to face Shirley, asking, "Is 'park' rude?" Shirley replies with a monotone voice, "Borderline." Donna winces in response.

In the heart of the command center, Kate stands with authority, her tablet in hand, and announces, "And stations. Gold Protocols. The Doctor and the Stargazer are in the room. Report."

Shirley adjusts her stance, her voice cutting through the air, "Two days ago, an increase in violence worldwide. The same increase in every country, all rising at exactly the same rate."

"Basically, every single human being thinks they're right and won't be told otherwise," Kate says, moving to stand next to you. Colonel Ibrahim adds, "That plane crash, the F665, Boston to Heathrow. The pilot declared his right to land wherever he wants."

On the screen, footage of the crazed pilot plays. His eyes were wide, he laughs amidst the blaring alarms of his instruments, declaring, "I'm coming home. Lookout, London. Daddy's coming home!"

In the tension-filled room, the Doctor initiates, "If everyone is going mad—" and Kate concurs, completing the thought, "So is the government."

Shirley, with a solemn nod, swipes on the screen of her tablet, unveiling footage of the current Prime Minister. He stands on a podium, his laughter echoing as he addresses the nation, "What do I care? I mean, seriously? Why should I care about you?"

In the aftermath of Donna's nonchalant remark, injecting a touch of humor with her observation, "No change there then," the room grapples with the unsettling scenes unfolding on the screen. The Doctor, now reclaiming the tablet, hands it back to Mel, who places it on her station. His gaze then sweeps across the room, and he remarks, "But you're fine. You're completely normal. And that's because of the—" He gestures towards the silver bands adorned with a glowing blue light worn around their arms.

Kate steps in to elaborate, "Oh, we call it the Zeedex." As the room processes this information, a robot's machine voice chimes in from the far left, connected to tubes and sporting screens, proudly announcing, "An invention of the Vlinx."

Taking a step forward, the Doctor addresses the robotic AI, "Hello, the Vlinx. I'm the Doctor, and this is my wife, the Stargazer."

Quick to clarify, you interject, "Not married yet."

"Just practicing," the Doctor playfully hums before turning his attention back to the Vlinx. With curiosity piqued, he queries, "So why's it called the Zeedex?"

In response to the Vlinx's brief explanation, "Good name," the Doctor emits a small, contemplative "Oh." Kate supplements the information, stating, "It disrupts the brain. Flattens the spike. Keeps everything calm."

With a slight scrunch of your nose, you inquire, "And the spike is?"

"I think I need to show you," Kate responds. Sensing a shift in the room, she commands Shirley, "Activate brain scan."

"Activating, ma'am," Shirley acknowledges. A beep emanates from the computer, and the screen displays the frequency inside Kate's brain. She points out, "That's my brain activity. Seems normal, albeit slightly heightened, given the end of the world. Now keep your eyes on the scan."

Kate moves to the center of the room and instructs, "And deactivate my Zeedex."

Shirley types on the keyboard, announcing, "Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, off." The light on her silver armband extinguishes. Kate takes a moment to scan the room, hands on hips, and asks, "Well?"

You gently interject, "Uh, hello?"

"Hello," Kate replies promptly, but her narrowed eyes betray suspicion. The Doctor poses a simple question, "How are you?"

"Fine," she responds.

You casually inquire, "Busy day?" Kate's nostrils flare, and she glares at you, retorting, "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just asking. Is that a problem?" you reply, observing the increased spike in brain activity. Kate aggressively points at you, asserting, "It's an invasion of my privacy. In fact, it's an assault on my civic rights. And I think it's highly relevant that the person demanding information from me is an alien."

The Doctor turns to Shirley, nodding in approval for her to activate her Zeedex, and calmly says, "Okay."

However, Kate abruptly interjects, rejecting the Doctor's initiative, "No, no, no, no, no. I think you'll find that I'm in charge here." With a swift motion, she rips off her Zeedex, launching into an impassioned tirade, "And we've been infiltrated by aliens, a man and a woman with two hearts," she points accusatorily at the Doctor, "a man who changes his face and cannot be trusted."

As her anger intensifies, Kate aggressively directs her accusations at Donna and Mel, both with red hair, insinuating a conspiracy. You instinctively step forward, shielding them from Kate's escalating rage.

Growing more incensed, Kate turns her ire towards Shirley, who looks on with mild dissatisfaction. Kate singles out your friend and declares, "And as for her, in that chair. I've seen you walk. I've seen you walking! Don't deny it!"

UNIT soldiers move in to pull Kate away, and she unleashes her fury at you, "And you! This is all your fault! If you hadn't fallen into the bloody time rift, altering the universe with your existence and falling in love with the Doctor—none of this would have happened!"

The soldiers carefully escort Kate away, and the Doctor swiftly positions himself in front of you, protectively shielding you from lingering gazes. You bury your face in his shoulder as Kate continues to shout, "No, you can't stop me. It's about time you heard the truth."

One of the soldiers places the silver band back on Kate's arm and commands, "Activate Zeedex," resulting in a beep and the restoration of the blue light on her band. Kate sits on the floor, panting, as the tension in the room eases.

You lift your head from the Doctor's shoulder and nod, silently assuring him that you're okay. Together, you approach Kate, who is visibly distressed, covering her face with her hand. She breathes out an apology, "I'm sorry."

Both you and the Doctor shake your heads, reassuring her, "No, it's okay."

Gasping for air, Kate turns to Shirley, mortified, realizing the extent of her outburst. She says, "Shirley, I'm so sorry."

Shirley dismisses the need for an apology, "Absolutely no need."

UNIT soldiers help Kate to her feet as she acknowledges, "It's not just me. It keeps spiking inside every single person's head."

"But what does that mean? Is it being beamed in from outside?" Donna inquires. The Vlinx responds, "No. It is natural. It is generated inside the brain."

Donna points out, "But not me. Not Grandad." Mel adds, "Nor me. I'm wearing a Zeedex just in case, but I've been fine. Well, no more opinionated than usual." Donna sighs, "You and me both."

You and the Doctor ponder the situation, and he suggests, "Maybe long-term travel in the TARDIS put you out of sync."

Donna shakes her head and proposes, "Can't you give everyone a Zeedex?" Kate scoffs at the idea, gesturing to the screen behind her, where a late-night talk show host expresses her skepticism, "They're using this to control us and monitor us. And microwave our brains. I am anti-Zeedex!"

The Doctor, in response, asks you to help him with his coat. You take it from him and neatly place it on a chair. He then stands next to Shirley and suggests, "Can we filter this wavelength? Lose the background noise."

Shirley hums in response, typing away on her keyboard, "Uh-huh. Gives us a strong coherent wave in seizure focus. Peaking seven times."

As you consider the recent events, you voice your thoughts, "So, this started two days ago. But why then? What else happened on that day?" Kate responds, "Exactly. We've been looking for a trigger, and there's this."

The screen illuminates with the image of a satellite gracefully orbiting the Earth, accompanied by detailed blueprints on the left side. Kate elucidates, "The KOSAT 5 satellite, launched by South Korea, activated two days ago.”

Shirley, with a swift gesture, adds to the explanation by displaying a live feed of the satellite, which hovers 36,000 kilometers above Earth. Kate expounds further, “KOSAT is the final link in the chain. The world is now 100% online. From the highest mountain to the deepest valley on Earth, everyone is connected.”

"But KOSAT is clean. We’ve checked and double-checked. It’s not like the old Archangel Network. There’s nothing hiding in that signal." Shirley asserts, and the Doctor, with a contemplative hum, adds, “And yet.” He shakes his head, “For the first time in history, everyone has access to this.” He taps on the edge of one of the monitors, saying, “A screen.”

"What if it’s a tune?" Donna asks, prompting you and the Doctor to turn around and face her.

"What?" The Doctor inquires as you move to stand in front of her. Donna continues, "I know we’ve only got minutes left to live, but give me a second." Donna begins to draw lines on a clipboard with a piece of paper as she explains, "Because I spent six months teaching my daughter how to play the recorder till she said, ‘This is not who I am.’ That was the start of a whole other conversation, believe you me.”

She places the sheet of paper on the screen, drawing dots on the corresponding line, “But if… you look at these seven peaks, like this…”

She flips the sheet of paper around, revealing what you recognize to be music notes, and Donna confirms this by saying, “Maybe it's music.”

“A classic arpeggio. Middle C, an octave higher.” Mel says before she sings in arpeggio, “La, la, la, la, la, la, la.”

“Oh.” Kate says as if she remembers something, and you look around to see others having the same reaction, as if they’ve heard it before. You and the Doctor look around and ask, “What? What is it?”

Mel repeats her tune, “La, la, la, la, la, la, la.”

Donna gasps, her eyes slightly watering and her blue eyes shining as she says, “I know that tune.”

“I-I know that from somewhere. What are the notes?” Shirley asks, spinning her chair to face you, and you read them off, “C, E, G, C, G, E, C. It’s a musical palindrome.” Then you sigh, “But it’s just a straightforward arpeggio. Everyone knows arpeggios.”

“It’s a basic tune. So, the question is, why are we all reacting to this one?” Mel asks as everyone looks around at each other. You and the Doctor frown, and he says, “We’re not. The Vlinx?”

“Negative.” The Vlinx replies promptly, and you hum out loud, “Just the humans.”

“It’s just— It’s so familiar. It’s like it’s been buried in my head for years.” Donna says and groans, “What is it?”

Then you hear giggling from across the room, a nearby station. You and the Doctor turn to see Shirley pointing to her screen, a puppet in black and white display as she says, “I found the exact same notes.”

The puppet begins to laugh in arpeggio, and you and the Doctor realize it at the same time. The Doctor says, “Oh, it’s not a tune. It’s a laugh.”

“It’s a puppet.” Kate says as she stares wide-eyed at the screen featuring the puppet.

“The giggle in everyone’s head.” You say as you stand behind Shirley, looking at the monitor as it continues to laugh in the arpeggio notes.

“What is that thing?” Donna asks, and Shirley explains, “Stooky Bill, the first face ever to appear on television. Put there by John Logie Baird himself.”

Donna shakes her head and points at Stooky displayed on the monitor, “I’ve never seen him before, so how do— How do I know that laugh?”

You blink a few times before realizing out loud, saying, “If the very first image has been hiding in every screen since… sneaking into your head, carving a wave, and waiting…”

“But hiding how? If there were secret pictures hiding in every television, we would have found it,” Shirley asks, so sure of herself and UNIT’s capabilities. The Doctor then sassily and in a mocking tone replies, “Oh, why? Because you’re so clever? Maybe Stooky Bill’s a lot smarter than you.” Shirley raises her eyebrows and puckers her lips, somewhat agreeing to the possibility.

“Imagine… if he burnt himself into television itself and every picture ever since, every single one.” You say before taking out your sonic screwdriver, pointing to one of the monitors, and clicking the button. It whizzes, and the image of Stooky Bill appears. The woman who sat by that desk pushes back her chair in shock, and he is mockingly laughing as you hear the notes in the air.

“Screen… after screen, after screen.” You use your sonic screwdriver, tapping on each station's monitor, revealing Stooky Bill as it continues to reverberate its laughs.

The Doctor joins in, using his sonic on an employee’s phone in their hands. He says as he clicks his sonic screwdriver, “And every type of screen.” The Doctor taps on Kate’s tablet, showing the image of Stooky Bill. He says, “Every one and everywhere. He’s inside ‘em all!”

You move to stand in the very front of the room, center, pointing your sonic at the large screens. “And two days ago, he finally connected worldwide, branding his Giggle into your brains.” The sonic screwdriver warbles, and images of Stooky Bill, along with his laugh, appear on the large monitor.

The Doctor stands by your side, adding in a low voice, “Since the very first existence of television. Laughing at the human race. And driving you mad.”

The entire group gathers for a small meeting by the large metal doors that lead to the helipad outside. You stand in a circle, positioned by the Doctor’s side, his glasses tucked away in his pocket. Kate tries to grasp the newfound knowledge as she asks, “But something at that scale, over so many years, who could do that?”

The Doctor's countenance turns wrathful, and you sense the heat and intensity radiating from his body as he retorts, "The puppet’s just a puppet. We’re looking for the puppeteer." He then pauses, taking a deep breath that puffs out his chest as he crosses his arms. Speaking with a low intensity, he adds, "And I’ve got a memory. I think something’s coming back… after a very long time."

Raising his voice to address everyone, he grits his teeth, "But it’s not only the giggle. Don’t go thinking you’ve got an excuse. The human race might be clever and bright and brilliant." His words are delivered with a hint of disgust, "But it’s also savage and venal and relentless."

The Doctor points to the screens showcasing people causing havoc around the world as he vehemently declares, "All the anger out there on the street. The lies, the righteousness." Jabbing a finger at the rest of the group, he continues, "That’s human. That’s you. That’s who you are. Using you’re intelligence to be stupid. Poisoning the world. And hating each other, you’ve never needed any help with that!”

He briefly pauses, toning down his voice as he says, “But today, something else is using your worst attributes. Playing with you. Like toys.” A chill runs down your spine as a distant memory starts to resurface, hinting at an old-time foe returning to wreak havoc. You blink, a hunch forming about who might be orchestrating all of the catastrophe.

“Can we take that satellite out?” The Doctor asks Kate, and she replies promptly, “All missiles are on lockdown, but we’ve got the Galvanic Beam.”

“What range?” You inquire, and Kate explains, “We could pick off a pebble on the moon. Trouble is, taking out a South Korean satellite will have international consequences, so we’ve been waiting for permission. All world leaders are being affected by the Giggle.”

The Doctor nods and says, “You have my permission.” He then looks to you, and you deeply sigh, nodding, “And you have mine.”

Kate nods to Colonel Ibrahim, signaling to get the Galvanic Beam ready. Then, she turns to you and the Doctor, “Thank you, Doctor and Stargazer.” Kate moves past you, announcing to the entire UNIT staff on the floor, “Gold protocol override. All staff, initiate Galvanic activation. Bring up the beam.”

“Platform in motion,” an employee's voice echoes through the speaker as the platform outside the tower shifts downward.

“Shirley, have we got the exact date that Logie Baird made that transmission?” The Doctor asks aloud, to which Shirley responds with determination, “I’ll find it,” and begins clicking away on her keyboard.

“All clear on the helipad,” another employee announces over the speaker as The Doctor walks over to Mel’s station, and you make your way towards Shirley, beginning to help her locate the date of the transmission.

The Doctor leans over Mel’s shoulder, and she says to him, “I fed the KOSAT fake coordinates, so it’s coming into UK orbit. Within range in three minutes.” The Doctor compliments her, “You’re brilliant.” He then looks at her with a smile, “Hello.” Mel replies with her own smile, the kind that reaches her eyes as she says, “Hi.”

You glance over to see the Doctor and Mel chatting as they work, and a sense of happiness and comfort washes over you, knowing Mel is okay. After a few minutes, you hear Mel announce to everyone, “Galvanic Beam payload boarding.”

“Platform locking at level 55,” an employee announces over the intercom, and Mel continues, “Galvanic Beam in position. KOSAT in range in 90 seconds.”

A beep emanates from Shirley’s computer, and your eyes quickly scan over the words before Shirley turns her head and says to the Doctor, “Doctor, Stooky Bill was televised on the 2nd of October 1925 at 22 Frith Street, Soho, W1D 4RF.”

You grab the Doctor’s coat from the chair and hand it to him as he says to Kate, “Fire when ready. Don’t wait for us.” He then looks to Colonel Ibrahim, quickly asking, “TARDIS?”

The Colonel points as he replies promptly, “Suite 17.”

The Doctor grunts, “Okay.” After putting on his coat, he grabs your hand, pulling you along with him as Donna says to you both, “You’re not going without me.”

As you enter the suite and find the TARDIS parked there, the Doctor quickly unlocks it with his key and rushes inside, with you and Donna trailing right behind him. Time’s running out, always running out, and every road you discover disappears under your feet. Because if nothing else, you're given a little time to change the game, a chance to redefine everything.

SOHO — 1925

The TARDIS whooshes and whizzes, finally giving a loud thud as it lands. The Doctor opens the door first, popping his head out to check if it’s safe before allowing you and Donna to step out into the dimly lit alley where the TARDIS is parked. The flickering gas lamps cast a warm glow, highlighting the cobblestone street and the faint echoes of distant chatter.

The Doctor announces to the two of you, “Soho, 1925.”

“So, what about Mel?” Donna asks, wiggling her eyebrows playfully at the two of you. You let out a chuckle, saying, “She’s brilliant, isn’t she?”

Donna laughs with a smile, “Yeah, but I just kept thinking, all this time, you’ve never mentioned her.”

The Doctor addresses Donna with a frown, “Donna, we’re a billion years old. If we stood and talked about everyone we’d ever met, we’d still be in the TARDIS yapping.”

“So you talk about no one ever?” Donna asks, and you look away guiltily. Donna continues, “You just keep charging on.”

“Yes, because I’m busy. Like now,” the Doctor replies.

“But you are busy every second of every day. I mean, look at us now. We haven’t stopped,” Donna points out, and you all come to a halt by the sidewalk. She continues, “I saw you, Doctor. I got a glimpse inside your mind.” The three of you stand on the sidewalk, surrounded by the ambient sounds of 1925 London, as Donna expresses, “And it’s like you’re staggering. You are staggering along. Maybe that’s why your old face came back. You’re wearing yourself out.”

You observe as the Doctor contemplates her words, his expression revealing a momentary reflection on her insight. However, he doesn't directly acknowledge them. Instead, he smoothly shifts the topic, saying, "Stooky Bill might be on Frith Street, but the question is, where did Stooky Bill come from?”

His gaze shifts to the bright red shop on the street labeled Mr. Emporium above the store. The three of you cross the street, anticipation building as you peek through the window. There, you spot someone engaged in a playful exchange with the Doctor, both figures playing peek-a-boo before the mysterious man expertly hops down to conceal himself. The Doctor's expression tightens with anger as he forcefully shoves the door open, pulling back the maroon curtains, and the three of you step into the enchanting toy store.

The atmosphere is filled with wonder and a touch of nostalgia as you take in the whimsical surroundings. Shelves adorned with a myriad of toys, each telling a story of childhood innocence and imagination. The air is scented with a mix of wooden toys, plush animals, and the faint fragrance of freshly painted models.

As you step further into the store, your disbelief intensifies as you recognize the man orchestrating this peculiar encounter. An old foe, one who could have channeled his creativity for good, yet chose to warp reality into a twisted game where play meant suffering for others. Dressed in a crisp white button-up and a vibrant red apron, he skillfully juggles three balls, his voice carrying a distinct German accent as he addresses you, "Die ball is die first game ever being invented."

He throws a ball towards you, only for the Doctor to swiftly intercept it before it makes contact with your stomach. Without missing a beat, the Doctor tosses it away onto the ground. Meanwhile, the man behind the counter continues his mesmerizing juggling act, sharing his narrative, "Stone Age man, he picked up ein rock." The Doctor catches another ball skillfully, and with a nonchalant toss, sends it away.

The rhythmic cadence of his speech, accompanied by the mesmerizing flow of his juggling, weaves an enchanting atmosphere within the toy store. The balls dance through the air, tracing whimsical patterns, adding a touch of magic to the man's storytelling. With a gleam in his eye, he continues narrating, "He said, ‘Oh! Das ist ein Ball.’"

The sequence of throw and catch becomes a rhythmic ballet, each movement a beat in the peculiar symphony unfolding before you. "He threw it, und he killed a man," he declares with a dramatic flair, followed by a nonchalant toss.

Another cycle of throw and catch commences, and he recounts, "He said, ‘Oh, what fun!’" The balls move effortlessly in the air, and the ambiance resonates with a sense of playfulness.

"Und now, everybody loves the balls," he proclaims, the balls gliding through the air in a mesmerizing display. Every throw, catch, and toss adds to the building tension in the tale.

"Until the year five billion. When the very last human picks up the skull of his enemy," he declares, the tone shifting slightly, yet maintaining the captivating rhythm. The balls continue their dance, and he winks as he concludes, "Und said, ‘That is the final ball of all,’ jah?"

As he tosses another ball, the vibrant atmosphere in the toy store takes a sudden turn when Donna, with a determined air, steps forward and effortlessly catches the ball with a single hand. Her gaze, firm and unyielding, pierces through the whimsical scene as she asserts, "Enough."

The man behind the counter raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, Donna Noble. I wondered which one of you had the balls," he retorts, his words carrying a playful undertone. Donna, taken aback, attempts to brush it off with a casual, "Okay. So you know my name?" The man, still smirking, raises both eyebrows in response.

Curiosity sparking, Donna seeks answers. "How do you three know each other?" she questions, her tone holding a mix of suspicion and intrigue. In response, the Doctor, donning a low, stern tone and a deep frown that accentuates the lines on his face, issues a command, "Star, Donna, go back to the TARDIS." The urgency in his voice hints at a deeper concern, urging them to retreat from the unfolding confrontation.

Donna, wearing a perplexed expression, seeks clarification, "What?"

The Doctor, frustration evident in his gritted teeth, reiterates his command, "Go back to the TARDIS."

You, however, defiantly shake your head. "As much as I love you bossing me around, you do not get to tell me to leave you here with him." The tension in the air thickens, with unspoken concerns lingering between all of you.

"Oh, but he is recognizing me," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. You whip your head back to the man behind the counter, the one who revels in tricks and games for sheer amusement. Chaos and discord personified, he continues, "Are you not 'ge-pleased,' Herr Doctor und Stargazer, to see me again after so many years?"

Donna, finally seeking clarity, asks, "Who is he?" Flashbacks of memories flood your mind.

The Doctor answers, "The Toymaker." As the realization sinks in, the atmosphere in the room starts to change.

The Toymaker gives a bow, a theatrical flourish that befits his whimsical yet ominous presence. Abruptly changing accents, he addresses with a menacing tone, "We meet again, Doctor, Stargazer."

But just as swiftly, the Toymaker's demeanor undergoes a shift. Stepping backward, he adopts a German accent, prompting curiosity. "But think, if the ball was the very first game, what was the second?"

With a mischievous grin, he seizes both ends of the curtain behind him and declares, "Hide-and-seek!" The Toymaker pulls the curtain shut, his laughter echoing in the room in those distinctive arpeggio notes.

The Doctor vaults over the counter, deftly pushing aside the two curtains, only to discover the Toymaker's disappearance. Behind the curtains lies a door, and with a quick turn of the copper-colored knob, the Doctor reveals a seemingly endless hallway. Warm-toned lights bathe the corridor in a gentle glow, wooden floorboards creak, and numerous doors line both sides of the mysterious passage.

As the Doctor steps forward, guided by an instinct you and Donna share, the door abruptly slams shut behind both of you. Turning sharply, the Doctor commands, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Go back.” With a quick twist of the doorknob, it should logically lead you out, but instead, it reveals the same seemingly endless hallway. Donna, her mouth agape, exclaims, “It’s bigger than the shop. Don’t tell me he’s got his own TARDIS.”

“The TARDIS is an idea the Toymaker would throw away,” the Doctor spits out with disdain as you three stride down the hallway. He continues, “We’ve stepped inside his domain, and it’s governed by the rules of play.” The Doctor turns to the door on his left, confidently opening it. Donna and you follow him, but just as the door slams shut, you find yourselves still trapped in the long, mysterious hallway.

“Okay. Keep going forward,” the Doctor instructs, stepping ahead with you and Donna in tow. Donna, perplexed, shakes her head and remarks, “But how does this even make sense? 'Cause I’ve seen some things with you two. I’ve seen Ood, Davros. I mean, the Adipose, for God’s sake.”

The Doctor twists another doorknob, taking a chance with the door to his left, only for it to transport you three back into the hallway. Donna continues, “But they had a sort of logic. Daleks built a great big bomb. I understood that. But this— this is impossible. How does it exist?”

The Doctor grits his teeth, growling, “That’s what unravels me. All the laws I cling to, gone.” He spins, opening another door only to lead you three back into the hallway. Moving to the opposite door, he finds it locked and slams his palm against the wood in frustration before pressing on down the hall.

Donna moves closer to you two and asks, “Who is the Toymaker? What is he?”

The Doctor turns to face Donna, explaining, “When I was young, I was so sure of myself. I made a terrible mistake. I let the TARDIS fall into another realm.” The Doctor opens a door, and you follow him as he continues, “A hollow beneath the Under Universe, where science is a game and all of us are toys.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. "It's also how the Stargazer ended up with us, but that's something I will never regret." You softly remark, "A rift in the universe..." The Doctor quickly kisses your forehead, saying, "And it brought me you, my love."

After a moment, the Doctor struggles with another stubborn door, wiggling the doorknob in frustration. "I beat the Toymaker. I won his game, but now he's here. He's found his way into reality."

As he opens the door to the right, leading the three of you back into the hallway, he stills and sighs. "And I think it's all because of me."

You exchange a glance with the Doctor, shaking your head in disagreement. However, before you can utter a word, he cuts you off, his gaze intense. "'Cause I got clever, didn't I? I cast that salt at the edge of the universe. Thought I could have it all," he admits, his eyes locked onto yours. "I thought I could finally have you. I played a game and let him in, an elemental force with the power of a god, and he’s driven the human race mad with a puppet.”

Donna begins, “Yeah, but you always say—” the Doctor shakes his head and mockingly replies as he walks backward down the hall raising his voice, “Oh, what do I say? What do I say? What do I say?”

“‘Cause I’m always so certain. I’m all sonic and TARDIS and Time Lord. Take that away.” The Doctor says and defeatedly shrugs, “Take away the toys. What am I?” He chokes a little as his eyes glaze over, repeating, “What am I now?”

The Doctor looks to you and Donna as he offers a variation of the truth, “I don’t know if I can save your life this time.” The vulnerability in his voice echoes through the corridor, a stark departure from his usual confident demeanor.

Donna raises her eyebrows, her gaze shifting between you and the Doctor. “It’s not about me,” she asserts.

You meet Donna's gaze and respond, “Oh, yes, it is.”

With a nonchalant shrug and a deep breath, Donna begins, “Well,” and then she steps a little forward, flashing a determined smile, “Maybe I’ll save you, you big idiot.” Through the perplexing hallway, the chatter reverberates with a mixture of warmth and friendliness as you all chuckle.

"Anyway, you beat him before," Donna points out, and the Doctor wears a contemplative frown. "That’s the problem. Odd-on I’ll lose next time."

Donna dismisses the notion with a shake of her head. "Nope. Doesn’t work like that. Because my dad used to say, ‘Dice didn’t know what the dice did last time.’ Games don’t have a memory. Every game starts from scratch."

After a moment of letting the words settle, the Doctor nods with a genuine smile. "Oh, I like that. Well said, Dad." He takes a deep breath before suggesting, "Okay. Shall we find the right door?"

The Doctor swiftly dashes to one of the doors, opening them one after the other. You and Donna struggle to keep up, the anticipation heightening. Suddenly, one of the heavy doors slams shut behind Donna, separating you from her. Then the door in front of Donna slams shut, also separating her from the Doctor, the echoes of the closing door lingering in the air.

You sense your fingernails biting into the palm of your hand, forming a tight fist as you strike the door with the side of your fists. An exasperated cry escapes your lips as you press your forehead against the wooden door. You shut your eyes, tears trickling down your cheeks. Slowly, you lower your hands to your sides, then raise them, placing them at the back of your neck in an attempt to regain composure.

You take a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs before releasing it in a resounding exhale. Pushing away from the door, you continue down the corridor. A distinct pull guides you to a door on the right. Twisting the knob, you pull the door open and step into a room filled with standing mirrors encased in plastic frames. As you survey the surroundings, the door slams shut behind you, making you flinch and glance back.

Turning your head forward, you're met with various incarnations of the Doctor—past and present—alongside friends and companions, all staring back at you through the mirrors. Their gaze penetrates through you. The mirrors shift, forming two opposing lines, resembling portraits guiding you towards a solitary dresser and a seat. On the creaky wooden floors, you move delicately, feeling like a doll as the eyes of your own reflections track your every step down the mirrored pathway.

You eventually reach the dresser, and the seat smoothly pulls out from underneath it. Hesitant, you lower yourself onto it, only to find that your own reflection is not what greets you. Instead, it's the Toymaker, wearing a smug expression as he says, “Ah, yes, the Stargazer. Oh, how I’ve missed you, old friend.”

You cross your arms and raise your eyebrows, “If that’s what you want to call it, sure.”

The Toymaker’s expression shifts to a sour one as his face scrunches up, “We were friends, we had such wonderful games in our little dollhouse until the Doctor stole you away from me.”

You shake your head as you say sternly, “He didn’t take me away from you.”

The Toymaker childishly rolls his eyes as he also crosses his arms, “Admit it. You were happy. Happier to be blissfully unaware of who you are when we were in our universe.”

You shake your head as you feel your eyes glaze over, pressing your lips, trying to steady your breathing. Softly, you spoke, “You were controlling me. You were trying to mold me into something… that had to be exceptional to be worthwhile.”

You sniff as you continue, “You never cared about me or any of it. You only wanted to play your games and win. And the one time I won… I saw your true nature and never let me out of that box.”

You gaze directly into the Toymaker's eyes, inquiring, “How? How did you end up here?”

He tilts his head and smiles, “The Doctor may have cast that salt, but that was just the door. You being here, allowing yourself to exist in this reality, my dear, you were the key. The Doctor merely provided the key, and voila. Here I am.”

The Toymaker shifts before he hums and then says nonchalantly, “Well, this was so much fun… us two friends catching up. We should do this more often.”

You narrow your eyes as you shake your head, “Don’t you dare hurt them.”

The Toymaker grins, “Well, what’s the fun in that?”

The room around you seems to blur as a heaviness settles in your chest, the weight of your choices and the consequences of your time with the Toymaker bearing down on you. The mirrors that once reflected various versions of yourself, your friends, and the Doctor now seem to mock your vulnerability.

Your face shifts to anger as you grab your sonic screwdriver, raise it to the mirror, and press the button, causing the illusion to shatter. There is no glass in the mirror because, on the other side of it, is you—freed from the false reflections that sought to define you.

You rise from your seat, hastening as the glass mirrors rupture behind you, fragments and shards soaring through the air. Grabbing the doorknob, you wrench the door open, hurtling into the hallway just as the door behind you slams shut.

Anticipating the impact of the hard hallway floor, you're surprised to find yourself enveloped in sturdy arms, the familiar texture of the Doctor’s coat reassuring. "Whoa! Darling, there you are," he exclaims.

Speechless, you encircle him with your arms, finding solace in the warmth he provides. He eases back, cradling the side of your head, and you yield to the touch, trying to ground yourself in the reassurance that you're still alive, still breathing. Life may have presented challenges, love may have left its mark, and certain experiences may have etched an ache in your soul, yet, you survived.

The Doctor scans your face and says, “You’ve been crying. What’s wrong? What happened? Did he hurt you?”

You sniffle as you shake your head frantically, “No, I’m just… I’m sorry.”

The Doctor frowns, “What for?”

“It’s my fault. All of this is my fault.”

“No. I cast that salt—”

“Yes, but since I’m here, in this reality. I allowed him to exist here as well. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry.”

The Doctor pulls you in closer, tightly wrapping his arms around your frame as he asks, “Did he tell you that?”

You merely make a squeak as you nod into his chest, “It makes sense—”

“No. It’s— I refuse to believe it. I won’t.”

You began, “But—”

The Doctor pauses, his gaze softening, and he says, “No, my love. It's not your fault. Don't let his games mess with your mind. We'll figure this out together.”

You let go of your ghosts and your worries for once. It was just one step, but it said plenty. That you've been cut off from the outside world for such a large portion of your existence dawns on you. That you devoted so much of your life to a version of existence that was cut off from believing in the good and the beautiful as a means of survival, that you tried so hard to shield yourself from the love you so desperately needed.

You knew that you wouldn’t find a love that was perfect, but you found a love that was real. The kind that sees you and brings down your walls, that asks you to share parts of your soul you have tucked away and kept hidden from the world.

Suddenly, the creak of another door opening startles both of you, prompting a swift turn of your heads. Your heart skips a beat as you spot your fiery-haired friend. You exclaim, “Donna!”

“Oh, my god!” Donna exclaims, and the Doctor responds, “There you are!” As you eagerly move forward to embrace Donna, the room undergoes a rapid metamorphosis, transforming into a puppeteer theatre, with the Toymaker standing at its center.

Fanfare resonates in the background through concealed speakers as the Toymaker speaks in German, “Kommen Sie, kommen sie!”

Three chairs materialize from behind you, smoothly rolling forward and obliging you to take a seat upon them as they advance towards where the Toymaker stands.

"The show is just beginning. Worldwide premiere," the Toymaker announces, vanishing momentarily only to reappear behind the puppet theatre at the center. He addresses Donna Noble, "This is for you. Let me tell you what happened when the Doctor, he was leaving you."

Lifting the cross brace of the string puppet, he continues, "He met a friend called Amy Pond. And he loved Amy Pond." The strings sway as he manipulates the Amy puppet. "Yes, he be liking die redheads." A playful wink is followed by, "And they went to and fro in time und space."

The Toymaker's tone darkens as he narrates, "But Amy Pond was touched by the Weeping Angel. And she died." He grabs a large pair of scissors, severing the strings of the puppet, rendering it limp and lifeless.

The Doctor's expression turns grim and angry as he grits his teeth, "She died of old age."

Quickly shifting to an American accent, the Toymaker mockingly remarks, "Well, that’s alright then."

Continuing in his vibrant German accent, the Toymaker orchestrates the descent of a new puppet onto the stage, "Und then he was meeting Clara. Mmm." He adds, "But she was killed by a bird." Another snip of the strings leaves the puppet limp and lifeless.

The Doctor growls, "She still survives in her last second of life."

"Well, that’s alright then!" The Toymaker replies in his mocking American accent.

The Toymaker continues in his vibrant German accent, placing another puppet on the stage, "Und then the Doctor met Bill." Strings are pulled as he continues, "Not Stooky Bill, but lady Bill. But she was killed by the Cybermen." With a snip, the puppet falls to the floor, lifeless.

The Doctor's lip trembles, jaw set, as he asserts in a raised tone, "But her consciousness survives."

"Oh, well, that’s alright then!" The Toymaker retorts once more in his mocking American accent. He then transitions to a new scene with stars and planets descending, connected with strings. Cutting the strings, he comments with feigned remorse, "Und then there came die Flux. Oh, Donna Noble, the poor Doctor." The Toymaker continues to sever the strings attached to the planets, remarking, "Die Flux was killing everything."

"Is all of this true?" Donna asks in disbelief, leaving you frozen and unsure of what to do or say.

The Doctor abruptly stands up, his gaze locked onto the Toymaker's eyes as he lowers his tone, the gruffness evident, "I challenge you to a game."

The Toymaker's expression drops, his nostrils flare, and he strides toward the table. The Doctor meets him at the other end, and they lock eyes, a tense silence enveloping them.

The two of them settle into seats across from each other as the Toymaker mysteriously conjures a deck of cards. In a refined British accent, he declares, “I accept the challenge.”

The Doctor retorts, “You have no choice.”

With an air of a magician, the Toymaker skillfully shuffles the deck of cards, his hands moving with deliberate precision. "I came to this universe with such delight, and I played them all, Doctor." The Toymaker lays down the cards in a line, maintaining his magical flair. "I toyed with supernovas, turned galaxies into spinning tops."

He holds the two halves of the deck and continues, "I gambled with God and made him a jack-in-the-box." Flipping the cards, he shuffles the deck, his eyes locked onto the Doctor's. "I made a jigsaw out of your history. Did you like it?"

"The Master was dying and begged for his life with one final game. And when he lost, I sealed him for all eternity inside my gold tooth." The Toymaker says, a sly smile accompanying the gesture to his shiny gold tooth. However, his tone turns grave and haunted as he continues, "There’s only one player I didn’t dare face. The one who waits."

Both you and the Doctor furrow your brows, and the Doctor questions, “Who’s that?”

The Toymaker's gaze becomes distant as he recalls, “I saw it. Hiding. And I ran.”

“What do you mean?” The Doctor presses, and the Toymaker shakes his head, “Mmm. That’s someone else’s game.” Placing the deck of cards neatly on the table, he asks, “What shall we play?”

“One request. Tell me,” The Doctor starts, his tone curious, “The human race, back in the future. Why does everyone think they’re right?”

The Toymaker smirks knowingly and replies, “So that they win. I made every opinion supreme. That’s the game of the 21st century. They shout, they type, and they cancel. So I fixed it. Now everybody wins.”

“And everyone loses,” you remark, your eyebrows furrowing in contemplation. The Toymaker smiles, acknowledging the truth, “The never-ending game.” He then turns to the Doctor, prompting, “Now name your challenge.”

“The simplest game of all. Let’s cut,” the Doctor proposes, and the Toymaker grins, “Highest card wins.”

“Aces high,” the Doctor asserts.

“You choose,” the Toymaker replies.

“I’ll go first,” the Doctor declares.

Then Donna interjects, “But he’ll cheat.”

You, the Toymaker, and the Doctor quickly disagree, simultaneously stating, “No.” The Toymaker's face turns sour, offended by the accusation, “Shame.”

“That’s the one thing he won’t do,” the Doctor asserts, and Donna points out, “But they’re his cards. He’s all tricks. Of course, he’ll cheat.”

You then explain, “The only rules the Toymaker follows are the rules of the game. They bind his entire existence. The Doctor wins or he loses, and that’s it.”

The Toymaker glowers at the Doctor as he says, “Then play.”

The Doctor seizes the top deck of cards, turning it to reveal the Eight of Clubs. A sinking feeling creeps into the pit of your stomach as you calculate the odds, not liking the prospects for the Doctor.

The Toymaker raises an eyebrow with a smug expression, “My turn.” He grabs a portion of the deck, turning it to reveal the King of Hearts. Gripping the sides of your chair, you feel a sense of dread as the Toymaker laughs, “I’m the King.”

Switching back to his German accent, he declares excitedly, “Und now, meine kleine Doctor, we will see what is my prize!”

The Doctor responds, “One… all.”

A light laugh of relief escapes you, realizing the Doctor had a backup plan in case he lost. Leaning across the table, the Doctor's words make the Toymaker's expression drop, “I won the game many years ago. You’ve won today, which leaves us equal. And you know two players are bound by one inviolable rule.”

The Toymaker sneers as he begrudgingly admits, “Best of three.”

The Doctor nods, “Best of three.”

The Toymaker purses his lips in annoyance, narrowing his eyes before saying, “Then let’s make it 2023.” He suddenly pulls a curtain from the side, quickly vanishing as the red velvet cloth clatters to the floor. The room transforms, and you hear the creaking of wood.

Both you and the Doctor exclaim, “Donna!”

Donna has already sprung from her chair, responding, “I’m already running!”

As you run, the structure behind you collapses in on itself, the scratching and groaning of wood as it folds in the hallway. Eventually, you make it out of the shop, running into the streets and stopping from across the street to see the entire building fold itself neatly into a box on the ground.

Donna points out, "He said 2023," and the Doctor responds as his chest puffs out a breath, "Winner takes all."

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, LONDON — DAY, 2023

Once the TARDIS had landed, you and Donna hurriedly followed the Doctor, who carried the box containing the Toymaker's shop. As you reached the main area of operations, the Doctor placed the red box on Melanie's desk and instructed, "Keep an eye on that."

Stepping up on one of the desks, the Doctor addressed everyone in a loud tone, "The satellite was only a link in the chain, so Donna needs access to the subframe. There is no one in London faster on a keyboard. She’s creating a template for this." He produced a flash drive and explained, "It coordinates all telescopes and satellites and deep-space scans across the Earth." Tossing the flash drive to Shirley, who deftly caught it.

Turning to the Vlinx, the Doctor requested, "The Vlinx, I need all mesh reflectors on Earth translated to digital five."

As Donna worked on the keyboard, Mel replied to Donna's question, "Dynamic. We’re using triad."

Donna nodded in understanding, typing rapidly, "Got ya. Okay, so you should all be receiving this now."

"How bad is it, Doctor, Star?" Kate asked with concern. The Doctor responded with a warning tone, "Something entered this world in 1925. I don’t know how. And I warn you, this thing can get from 1925 to now like stepping through a door."

He shoved his hands into his pockets and continued, "But if we’re lucky, the program the Stargrazer created can detect the decay of an energy signature from 98 years ago. Might be on Earth. Might be in orbit. Might be in space. But if we can find the entrance, maybe we can turn it into an exit."

"What are we fighting?" Kate asked, and you responded grimly, "An elemental force beyond the rules of the universe."

Shirley then inquired with a puzzled tone, "What’s that supposed to mean?"

The Doctor gave her a look and explained, "You think life is a balance between order and chaos, but the universe is not binary." As the Spice Girls' "Spice Up Your Life" began playing from somewhere, he continued, "Far from it. There is order and chaos, and then there is play." Pointing to the ceiling, he asked, "What’s that?"

"Could you turn that off, please?" Kate requested, and Melanie, standing from her chair, asked, "Who is that?"

The Doctor groaned, "Oh, I think he’s here."

The Toymaker entered the scene like a Broadway hurricane, dressed as a band leader with his hair curled and styled. A door suddenly appearing with the bell jingling as he strutted forward. Confetti popped, lights flashed, and the Toymaker lip-synced to the Spice Girls' song playing from an unknown location.

"When you're feelin' sad and low

We will take you where you gotta go"

The door materialized behind you, the bell jingling as the Toymaker stepped out, dancing and lifting his hat, grooving to the music. You and the Doctor stood there, unimpressed, wearing a fed-up expression.

The Toymaker, immersed in the infectious beats of the Spice Girls, continued his impromptu performance. With infectious enthusiasm, he teleported across various areas of the headquarters, seamlessly syncing his lip movements to the lyrics of the song. His dance was a spectacle of exaggerated expressions, capturing the vibrant spirit of the Spice Girls' anthem.

As the music echoed through the room, the Toymaker made flamboyant movements, teleporting next to Shirley. With flair, he held up a phone, lip-syncing passionately to the lyrics.

"Smilin', dancin', everything is free

All you need is positivity"

The Toymaker's energetic dance moves and lively expressions added a surreal touch to the otherwise serious atmosphere of the operation.

“Colours of the world

Spice up your life”

Teleporting with theatrical finesse, he continued his spirited performance, engaging with the song's upbeat tempo.

“Every boy and every girl

Spice up your life”

The Toymaker, a delightful force of whimsy, twirled and danced with infectious energy, infusing the tension-filled room with an unexpected burst of joy.

“People of the world

Spice up your life

Aah

Slam it to the left

If you're havin' a good time

Shake it to the right

If ya know that you feel fine

Chicas to the front

Ha ha (uh uh)

Go round”

With each step, he appeared and disappeared, dancing effortlessly to the rhythm. In a sudden move, the Toymaker materialized next to Kate, seamlessly incorporating her into his lively dance. However, the exuberant twirl proved too much, and Kate, spun too fast, and collided with a wall.

Undeterred, the Toymaker vanished and reappeared beside Melanie, pulling her into an impromptu dance as UNIT soldiers point their weapon at him.

“Slam it to the left

If you're havin' a good time

Shake it to the right

If ya know that you feel fine

Chicas to the front”

The Toymaker spun Melanie like a spinning top, prompting your alarmed cry, "Melanie!" Both you and the Doctor rushed to her aid as she tumbled to the ground, the unexpected dance taking an unforeseen turn.

"La la la la la la la la la

La la la la la la la"

Kate regains her composure, brushing off her slacks with a determined air as she commands the UNIT soldiers, "Detain him!"

In response, a contingent of UNIT soldiers swiftly advances, attempting to apprehend the whimsical Toymaker. The Doctor's warning echoes in the air, “No, don’t!” However, defying the Doctor's urgent plea, the Toymaker playfully taps the soldiers, transforming them into vibrant, bouncing balls that clatter across the floor.

"What happened to them?" Kate urgently inquires, and you, wearing a grimace, shake your head, "They're dead. I'm sorry. Just stop it. Let me talk to him."

The Toymaker confidently struts down the center aisle among the stations, seizing the attention of everyone. Kate seizes the opportunity and commands the remaining UNIT soldiers, "On my command, open fire!"

"Take him out, take him out!"

Despite the barrage of gunfire from the UNIT troops, the bullets magically transform into a cascade of delicate rose petals, scattering around the office in a surreal display. The Toymaker, reveling in the chaos, gleefully glances atop a table as more rose petals dance in the air.

"Yellow man in Timbuktu

Colourful, both me and you

Kung Fu fighting, dancing queen

Tribal spaceman and all that's in between"

Undeterred, more UNIT soldiers step in, brandishing larger firearms. Kate urgently yells, "Get down!" Yet, instead of bullets, they too unleash a storm of rose petals towards the Toymaker, amplifying the confusion and chaos in the headquarters.

Now seated on the floor, the Toymaker whimsically creates a rose petal angel, moving his arms and legs in a playful display as he swims amidst the never-ending fall of petals, still lip-syncing to the song.

"Colours of the world (Spice up your life)

Every boy and every girl (Spice up your life)

People of the world (Spice up your life, ah)"

As the Toymaker gracefully walks away from the floral aftermath, he makes his exit, singing the last part of the song and forming a heart with his hands.

"Hai, sí, ja! Hold tight!"

With a resounding honk, he disappears into the floor, leaving the bewildered onlookers shaken and utterly confused about the bizarre turn of events.

The Doctor swiftly dashes forward, sliding to his knees with palms pressed to the floor in an attempt to catch the Toymaker, yet the space where he once stood appears empty, as if he were an illusion.

While Donna tends to Mel, you approach the Doctor, who rises to his feet. Kate's inquiry breaks the moment, "Doctor, Stargazer, who is he?"

Breathing heavily, you respond, "The Toymaker."

"How does he do that?" Shirley questions from her wheelchair, seeking understanding.

Ignoring the query, the Doctor directs urgently, "The Vlinx, speed up those scans. I need those results." He then turns to the group, nostrils flaring, and commands, "All of you, search the building. He’s still here. Where’s he gone?"

Soldiers take charge, securing the perimeter, while Shirley persists, "But how does he do it?" The Doctor, resolute, explains in a low tone, "If I told you he manipulates atoms with the power of thought, would you believe it?"

Shirley ponders for a moment before responding, "Is that what he does?"

The Doctor shakes his head, "No. You can’t fight him, Shirley. There’s nothing you can do."

A sudden noise interrupts the conversation—a bell tinkling. Hushing everyone, you urge, "Listen. Listen."

The ringing intensifies. Kate steps towards the automatic door leading to the helipad, and you follow suit. There, on the helipad, the Toymaker stands alone, dressed in an aviator outfit, ringing the doorbell. Kate exclaims, "Oh, my God. He’s got the Galvanic Beam." Reacting swiftly, you and the Doctor rush onto the helipad. The Toymaker sits on the chair of the Galvanic Beam, swinging it as he excitedly exclaims in German, "Achtung, Achtung! Backen Sie."

Kate, Donna, Shirley, and Mel, carrying the box, join you on the helipad along with the UNIT soldiers. The Toymaker continues, with his goggles on and his exaggerated German accent, "Oh, how I am liking this, the gun mit the laser und the bang und the boom."

The Doctor turns back to the group, urgently shouting, "Go back inside! Get back, get back!"

The Toymaker, however, dismisses the idea, insisting, "No, no, no, no, no. Every game is ge-needing an audience, ja."

Now it's your turn to raise your voice, "Get back inside!" Yet, the Toymaker, maintaining his defiance, sternly disagrees, "Und I said nein!" He takes aim at the glass higher up the building, shattering it. The team below reacts with startled cries as you and the Doctor shoot furious glares at the Toymaker.

Removing his goggles, the Toymaker switches to a British accent, calmly stating, "Now we can all have some fun."

Kate steps forward, undeterred and unafraid, confronting the Toymaker with a determined gaze. "Where are my staff? The beam had a pilot, and the armourer and the ground staff. Where are they?"

“I think they're still falling,” the Toymaker replies, and then a faint thud in the distance is followed by the sound of glass shattering.

The Doctor bares his teeth, anger etched across his face as he stomps forward and confronts the Toymaker, “I don't understand why you're so small!” The Toymaker’s face shifts into a frown, his features scrunching up as the Doctor continues his impassioned confrontation, “You can turn bullets into flowers. Think of the good you could do. So tell me why you don't!”

The Toymaker responds with resounding sureness, "You know full well this is merely a face concealing a vastness that will never cease, because your good and your bad are nothing to me. All that exists is to win or to lose."

“And you know full well that I've had many faces, containing something far more,” the Doctor begins. You inch closer to him as he grabs your hand, offering the Toymaker a compelling invitation, “So come with us. Leave this tiny world. We can take your games back to the stars. We can play across the cosmos. We can be... Celestial.”

You watch as the Toymaker’s gaze shifts between the two of you, “The Time Lords, and the Toymaker?”

You nod, extending your hand, “Infinite games.”

A moment of anticipation hangs in the air as you hope for his acceptance. However, the Toymaker's expression shifts to one of indifference as he uses the controller of the Galvanic Beam. Turning to survey London, he begins, “And yet…” The soldiers cautiously retreat as the Toymaker observes the destruction and chaos engulfing the city.

“I have fallen in love with humanity. This world is the ultimate playground. All of the sport, the matches, the medals, the gambling, and the anger, and the children shackled to their bedrooms with their joysticks and their buttons. You make games out of bricks falling upon other bricks. You are exceptional,” the Toymaker remarks, and you signal the troops to halt their advance. The Toymaker gasps, “And then there are the mind games. Oh, the dating and ghosting, the deceit and the control. You make me dizzy. I am in no hurry to leave this place.”

He swivels the turret around, a maniacal glint in his eye as he chuckles, “We can play Grandma's Footsteps.” He gleefully fires at the soldiers' feet, forcing them to hastily retreat, "And Off-Ground Touch."

“Ah! Stop, stop, stop, stop!” You plead helplessly as the Toymaker, a sinister smirk on his face, persists in aiming the Galvanic Beam at your companions. He remarks, "Shooting ducks. Who's up next? The companion? The soldier? The scientist? The orphan?"

The Doctor charges ahead, bellowing and thumping his chest defiantly, "Your fight is with me!" The Toymaker directs the beam towards the Doctor, declaring, "And you owe me! One more ga—"

His words abruptly cease as the Toymaker unleashes the Galvanic Beam, piercing through the Doctor's torso. A gut-wrenching scream escapes your lips, and you desperately attempt to rush towards him, only to be forcefully restrained by Donna and Kate. Helplessly, you bear witness to the Doctor's anguished ordeal.

The Toymaker proclaims, “I played the first game with one Doctor. I played the second game with this Doctor. Therefore, your own rules have decreed I play the third game with the next Doctor.” As the beam deactivates, you extricate yourself from Donna and Kate's grasp, hastening to reach your Doctor who has descended to his knees on the ground. Regeneration energy begins to shimmer around him, and you sniffle as you cradle him close, feeling his feeble arm wrap around you.

Tears stream down your face as you murmur, "Hey, hey... I'm right here."

You sense his touch, brushing away your tears as he utters, "Hello, my sweet Stargazer... I’ve been alone for so long. Oh, how I've missed you." A resonant sniff escapes you as you reply, "I'm so sorry. For running. For leaving. For everything, I’m sorry.”

He softly hushes you, "No. None of that. It's not your fault." A wistful smile gently paints his face. "I love you." You release a sob, "I love you too."

"Marry me?" The Doctor proposes, managing to flash you a boyish grin. You can't help but emit a weak laugh, "Right now?"

"Whenever, wherever you like. Just say yes."

"You already know I’d say yes, you idiot!" you retort.

"Say it, please," he murmurs, and you nod as tears continue to fall from your cheeks, "Of course, I'll marry you. I’ll marry you as many times as you want. As many lifetimes as you want."

As the regeneration energy glows brighter, Donna steps forward, yelling loudly to the Toymaker, “He's not dying alone. You can do what you like to me. I'm going to be with them both.”

“And so am I,” Mel declares, setting the box down and approaching the other side of the Doctor along with Donna.

The Toymaker allows it, nodding, “Handmaidens.”

“It's okay,” Donna says, and the Doctor responds, “It's not dying.” Donna nods in understanding, adding, “I know. But…”

Mel smiles as she interjects, “You're going to be someone else. It doesn't matter who because every single one of you is fantastic.”

The Doctor’s eyes glaze as he feels the regeneration energy glow brighter and stronger, surging throughout his body, “It's time. Here we go again. Allons-y!”

The energy fizzles out, and the Doctor hasn't changed his face, leaving you all blinking in confusion as he lets out an, “Um.”

The Doctor’s brow furrows as Donna asks, “What... What's happening?”

Looking to you, the Doctor asks in an even more confused tone, “Could you... pull?”

With your mouth agape and wide-eyed, you inquire, “Could I... what?” The Doctor looks to Mel and Donna to his left, saying, “And you.”

“What do you mean?” Mel asks, and the Doctor blinks as stands up and replies, “Pull! Just pull each way. I don't know. It feels different this time.” The three of you begin to pull in each way, and the Doctor exclaims, “Ow! Oh.”

Regeneration surges and flares up once more, and out pops the head and shoulders of the new Doctor, number 15. You all gasp in shock, and you're the first to say, “What?”

“What?” Donna and Mel ask in unison.

“What?!” The Toymaker exclaims.

“No way,” the other part of the Doctor exclaims, and your Doctor responds with glee, “You're me.”

The new regeneration of the Doctor smiles, a toothy grin spreading across his face as he says, “No, I'm me. I think I'm really, really me. Oh, ho-ho, I am completely me! Don't just stand there, push!”

Your Doctor poses the question once more, "Do what?" to which his other half retorts, "Push."

"What— Does this work?" Your Doctor questions and the new one responds with a laugh, "I don't know."

They part ways entirely, each now clad in half of the other one's attire. Your Doctor sports the undershirt, vest, and trousers, and is left barefoot. Meanwhile, as far as your memory serves, the 15th regeneration of the Doctor is now adorned in a button-up shirt, tie, sneakers, and underwear. You purse your lips as you try to hide your smile and feel a warmth spreading out your face as you realize your Doctor isn’t wearing any underwear. You decide to pocket that bit of information for later.

A surge of joy and laughter fills the air as the 15th Doctor exclaims, "Hello!" Arms outstretched in a welcoming embrace, he moves towards your Doctor, continuing to laugh, "So good to see you! So good!"

Turning his attention to you, a broad grin decorates his face as he rushes towards you, enveloping you in a warm hug and lifting you off the ground, spinning you around. A yelp of surprise and glee escapes you, and you notice a twinge of jealousy in your Doctor's expression. However, you shoot him a look, a gentle reminder that they are one and the same.

The 15th Doctor lets out hearty laughter before addressing everyone, "Now, someone tell me what the hell is going on here."

"Excuse me. Sorry, but..." Kate begins, and Shirley interjects, "How did that happen?"

"Bi-generation. I have bi-generated! There's no such thing. Bi-generation is supposed to be a myth, but... look at me.” He chuckles and stretches as his joints crack, “Yeah, myth, myth, myth," the 15th Doctor declares with a jolly tone, turning to Mel and inquiring, "Mel, what do you think?"

Mel smiles widely as she gazes at the 15th Doctor, "I think you're beautiful."

Your Doctor furrows his brow, questioning, "Still beautiful?"

"Yeah," Mel responds.

Donna, taking in the new Doctor with a rich deep ebony skin tone, asks, "Do you come in a range of colours?"

To which all the Time Lords reply with a resounding, "Yes."

You hear the Toymaker clear his throat and begin, pointing the beam at the two Doctors, "If I can interrupt... Behold the game of the Time Lords. A dummy who dies and doubles and dies and doubles. I could play this for 100 years. I'll have vast meadows of Doctors dying over and over again, and I'll never get bored because…"

The two Doctors step forward in unison, declaring, "I challenge you to a game."

The Toymaker's face sours, and he tosses his goggles, shifting into a frown. "But there's two of you."

Your Doctor asserts, "I'm the Doctor," and the 15th remarks, "And I'm the Doctor."

Your Doctor smirks, "And according to the rules, you can't say no."

The Toymaker stammers, "But that's cheating."

“How?” both Doctors say simultaneously, and your Doctor continues, “It's your game, and you did this.”

The Toymaker is at a loss for words, stammering, "But…"

Your Doctor smiles, "You doubled us."

“So, who am I marrying then—” You interject, and the two Doctors exclaim, “Me!”

Your eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening in response. "Y’know what, that seems like an issue for later."

The Toymaker interjects, stating, "I accept your challenge." Stepping off the Galvanic Beam, your Doctor commands everyone in a commanding voice, "Get back." In compliance, everyone takes a few steps back.

“Moments like these are a joy, when someone thinks they can outwit the maker of the games. Do you think a grand total of two can cause me to shiver when I've played against the Guardians of Time and Space and shrank them into voodoo dolls? Name your challenge, Doctor,” the Toymaker says, and you mockingly yawn, eliciting a glare from him.

“You said it. The first game ever,” the 15th Doctor states, and your Doctor finishes his thoughts, “The ball.”

The Toymaker conjures a ball from thin air and declares, “Catch? Of course, before we begin, there is one thing to remember. It's a simple game, really, but I think…”

Suddenly, the Toymaker hurls the ball towards your Doctor at an astonishing speed, making contact with his chest just as he finishes his sentence, “…if you drop it, you lose.”

Your Doctor catches the ball, releasing a deep breath, “Nice.”

The ball is tossed around in a flurry. You can only watch as it keeps getting passed and tossed. Eventually, the 15th Doctor throws it extremely far to your Doctor, causing him to tumble and dive to catch it from the 15th.

Your Doctor looks at the 15th with wide eyes, his chest puffing out breaths as he exclaims, “Hey! I'm on your side!”

15th sheepishly replies, “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry!”

The game of catch persists, and you nervously bite your nails as you observe the trio. There are numerous extreme throws and catches, accompanied by near misses, until the 15th Doctor imparts enough spin on the ball. It glances off the Toymaker's fingers, tumbling over the building's edge.

The Toymaker pants in disbelief, beginning, "But—"

“We won!” Your Doctor asserts, and the 15th adds, “We did it. Fair game. You lost.”

Attempting to salvage the situation, the Toymaker stammers, “No, but I think you'll find…”

Your Doctor steps forward, declaring, “Best of three. And my prize, Toymaker, is to banish you from existence forever.”

The Toymaker protests, “No! But I'm... It's not…” Suddenly, he starts to flatten and fold, “You can't... But I…” Mel steps forward and brings out the box as the Toymaker yelps, “Not fair. Please. My legions are coming. Argh!” He folds up into a square and drops into the box, which slams shut.

Kate seizes the box by the handles, instructing the soldier, “Take it to the deepest vault and bind it in salt.” The soldier promptly responds, “Yes, ma'am.”

Shirley and Kate disengage their Zeedexes. Kate turns to Shirley, saying, “Shirley, tell Geneva we're in full resus. Tell every base to follow Green Shoot protocols, full liaison.” She then addresses the soldier, “Rudi, I'll want the names of all those staff.”

Your attention shifts to your Doctor, standing at the edge of the helipad. The wind tousles his brown, spiky hair as he surveys the destruction wreaked upon London by the Toymaker. Approaching him, you grasp his hand and offer, “Hey, we did it.”

“But how many died down there?” The Doctor frowns, his tone heavy with sorrow. The 15th and Donna approach, with Donna reassuringly stating, “That's not your fault.”

The 15th points out, “You can't save everyone.”

Your Doctor pouts, “Why not?”

The 15th Doctor pulls both you and him into a hug, soothingly saying, “Come here. I've got you. Yeah? It's okay. I'm here.”

As you let out a sigh of relief, exhausted to the events that occurred. Your mind wanders and you smile. This love will intimately understand you, resonating on certain levels as if it has always existed—a deep-seated yearning your soul has carried, anticipating the reunion with its heart, perpetually poised to return home to the facets of itself discovered in another being. It serves as a poignant reminder that hope can emanate from the fingertips of another human being, nestled within the layers of the uncharted aspects waiting to be unveiled.

You and the group re-enter the building, abandoning the helipad to solitude, save for a lone sentry stationed at the entrance. A faint echo of laughter seems to linger in the air, leaving you with an inexplicable sense of dread resonating from a distant place.

UNIT HEADQUARTERS, SUITE 17, LONDON – DAY 2023

INSIDE THE TARDIS

You observe as the Doctor maneuvers around the console, guiding his other incarnation through the intricacies. "That's the petrolink shatterfy compensator, moved from there to there. Hyperdynes. Er... fluid links, obviously," he explains, his hands deftly pointing out the components.

Your Doctor halts abruptly, stumbling over his words as he gazes at the version of himself standing on the bridge. "And, well, you know... things. But, er... how's it going to work? You and me. This is great, I think. Is it? But... How do we both...?”

“One thing you need in this place is a chair,” the 15th Doctor remarks, and you arch your eyebrows, glancing at your Doctor, who responds, “I'll be all right.”

The 15th shakes his head, emphasizing, “No, you're thin as a pin, love. You're running on fumes.”

You and Donna both sigh in agreement, stating, “That's what we keep saying.”

“I'm just... post-bi-generation,” your Doctor attempts to justify, but the 15th Doctor interjects, “Ha! It's more than that. Our whole lifetime. That Doctor that first met the Toymaker never, ever stopped. Put on trial, exiled, Key to Time, all the devastation of Logopolis.”

“Adric,” your Doctor says with a tinge of sadness, and the 15th nods, “Adric.”

Your Doctor's expression shifts to a sorrowful pout as he reminisces about the days and tragic events. “River Song. All the people we lost. Sarah Jane has gone. Can you believe that for a second?”

“I loved her,” your Doctor admits, and the 15th agrees, “I loved her. And Rose. But the Time War, Pandorica, Mavic Chen. We fought the Gods of Ragnarok, and we didn't stop for a second to say, ‘what the hell?’”

Your Doctor shakes his head, “But you're fine.” He gestures to his newly regenerated self, and the 15th says, “I'm fine because you fixed yourself. We're Time Lords. We're doing rehab out of order.”

You then gently interject, “He's saying you need to stop.”

Your Doctor shakes his head in disagreement, stating, “I don't know how.”

Donna takes a step forward, her words measured, “Well, I can tell you. Cos you know what I did when you went flying off in your blue box, Spaceman? I stayed in one place, and I lived day after day after day.”

“It would drive me mad,” your Doctor admits. You nod in agreement, stepping closer to him, your hand gently holding his cheek. “Same here. I’ll be honest, it was difficult… at first. Yeah. It does. But you keep on going. That’s what makes it special. You won’t exactly know what’s going to happen. And that's the adventure. The one adventure you've never had. Because I've... I've worked out what happened. The Flux caused a reset in the universe, no longer making my entire existence a threat to everyone. Then you changed your face, and then you found me. Do you know why?”

The Doctor is wide-eyed as you gaze into his chocolate brown eyes, and you give him a soft smile, “To come home.”

“Do you mean... he flies off?” The Doctor says as he glances at the 15th Doctor, tears welling up. “But I could never let the Tardis go. Never. It would hurt.”

The 15th Doctor approaches you two and leans against the console, stating, “Yeah, but... bi-generation has never happened before.” An idea begins to form in his mind, “What if...? What if!”

Eagerly, he dashes to the walkway, producing a 'test your strength' mallet. “What if the Toymaker's domain is still lingering? Just for a few seconds more, we're in a state of play. Oh! So maybe…”

The 15th Doctor steps out of the TARDIS, and the three of you follow after him. Shirley and Mel are waiting in the suite.

Excitedly, the 15th Doctor exclaims, “Hey! Watch this, watch this. Watch, watch, watch, watch. Stand back. Stand back. Go on, that's it, Donna. Oh! Wish me luck.”

“What for?” The Doctor asks, to which the 15th responds with a big smile, “We won the game. You get a prize, honey, and here is mine!” He swings at the side of the TARDIS, knocking a second one out. An exact duplicate stands on the left side of the original one.

“Ta-da!” The 15th shows off in a sing-songy voice before whispering to the TARDIS, “I am so sorry.”

Donna expresses with glee, “That is completely nuts,” and the 15th Doctor laughs in agreement.

The Doctor pushes the other TARDIS doors open and looks down. He unfolds a ramp, saying, “Oh, look! Oh, that's not bad. Wheelchair accessible.”

“At last! You finally caught up with the 21st century!” Shirley smiles, laughing.

“Yeah. Go on,” the 15th Doctor says to your Doctor, who steps inside to glance around as you wait outside. After a minute, he walks out, goes into the original TARDIS, and looks around. You watch as the 15th Doctor gives you a wink before stepping inside his TARDIS, and you let out a snort.

You see your Doctor exit the TARDIS and realize the 15th Doctor is missing. “Where is he? Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!”

You follow your Doctor as he pushes open the other TARDIS doors, saying, “You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?”

The 15th Doctor mischievously grins as he replies, “As if I would ever do that. Come here. Come here, come here, come here, come here.” He hugs him and kisses you on the cheek, saying, “Look after him, you know? Now, you three, if you don't mind, there is a great big universe out there calling, and I've got to get going. So off you pop, old man.”

Your Doctor shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes, “Oh. You're the old man. You're older than me.”

Donna nods in agreement, “Actually, that is true. He's younger because you came after him. So you're the older Doctor.”

The 15th Doctor rolls his eyes playfully, teasing, “Okay, kid. I love you. Get out!” He sets the Time Rotor in motion, and Donna rushes out of the TARDIS, yelping, “I'm not doing that again!”

Observing the Doctors salute each other, you hear him say to you, “I’ll see you soon.” Then the two of you exit.

Stepping into Suite 17, the group gathers as the Doctor remarks, “Shirley, I don't suppose you've seen this before. I don't see it often myself. Stand by.”

“Where's he going?” Mel asks, and the Doctor replies, “Everywhere.”

You watch as the TARDIS dematerializes, and you catch the soft whisper of the Doctor, “Good luck.”

DONNA’S GARDEN — DAY, 2023

The TARDIS is parked in Donna’s garden, a testament to the new chapter you and the Doctor were embarking on—cohabiting. Presently, the entire family savored a meal al fresco beneath the pergola adorned with wisteria in full bloom. The Doctor sat beside you, his hand resting casually on your thigh, a constant desire to connect, to be near.

“Right. The cast-iron pot is the vegan. Ta-da! And the one with the flowers is the chicken,” Shaun declares, placing the dish on the table. You hum and nod, and Shaun adds, “I think.”

Sylvia chimes in, pointing to the dish, “And this is cauliflower cheese, which doesn't really go with anything, but it was there.” Rose nods as they begin to take their seats.

Donna raises a hand, signaling for attention, “Anyway, shush, please, for the eyebrow story.”

“Oh, yes. So... this species only communicated with their eyebrows. I thought, I can do that,” the Doctor says with an unusually happy tone, a rare occurrence that visibly lifts the weight from his shoulders. He sits straighter, and with a flourish of his eyebrows, he continues the story, “So I'm stood there on this clifftop and I went... ‘I mean you no harm. I come in peace. I am your friend.’”

“Am I late?” Mel's voice breaks through, and you lift your head to see her sheepishly saying, “Sorry. The door was open. You don't mind?”

Sylvia dismisses her concern, cooing, “Oh, you're family, darling. Sit down.”

You glance at Mel and ask, “Did you drive?”

“No. I got a lift off a zingo,” Mel replies as she takes a seat next to you, prompting cheers and laughter from the group.

“A zingo!” Donna exclaims, and Sylvia smiles, “Oh, how strange.”

The Doctor continues his eyebrow-raising tale, “So, she looked at me, the Warrior Queen of the Felooth, and she said, ‘Good. And now... you will marry me.’ I said, ‘What?!’ And she pushed me off the cliff!”

Sylvia leans in over the table, asking, “But is it true, though? Is it really true?”

The Doctor looks to you, humming and shrugging, “Mmm…” You playfully shove his shoulder, and he kisses your cheek.

“We could always go in the Tardis and find out,” Rose suggests, but Shaun interjects, “Don't you dare.”

Donna sternly tells her daughter, “You are grounded until the Doctor feels better. Don't go sneaking off to Mars.”

“Again,” Rose says, and Donna goes wide-eyed, asking, “What does that mean?” She pointedly looks at the two of you.

“Oh, no. It was just once. Oh, you're in trouble,” the Doctor says, and you wince.

Mel explains, “They took me to New York last week. The Gilded Age. It was amazing.”

The Doctor shrugs, “Well, yeah. We just can't turn down my favourite niece.”

Rose smiles, “Ah! Niece. I like that.”

“Well, that's what you are. With my best friend, my brother-in-law, the evil stepmother…” The Doctor says, and Sylvia chuckles, “Oh, I have barely begun.” The Doctor continues, “..and Mad Aunty Mel.”

Mel chuckles, “Mad Aunty Mel!”

You all toast happily, exclaiming, “Mad Aunty Mel!”

The Doctor then places down his glass before lifting your left hand, now adorned with a gold band inscribed in Gallifreyan. He kisses your knuckles and says lovingly, “And of course, my soon-to-be wife.”

You can’t help but smile as you look at him. With him, you just open. The cost of staying fortified and hidden away becomes too high. With the Doctor, you lay down your arms. You let love rush in. You let it wash over you. You crack your shell, exposing your heart to this world, trusting that you are worthy of being seen there.

The Doctor then remembers, “And Grandad! Where is he?”

Sylvia says, “Oh, he's off shooting moles.”

The sound of a shotgun resonates, and you hum as the Doctor says, “Don't worry, I gave the moles a forcefield. I love the moles.”

Donna raises her eyebrows, asking, “You love the moles?”

The Doctor grins, “I love them. But here we are, Grandad and all. Who'd have thought? I ended up with a family.”

You feel the weight of his words settling in the cracks of your bones as your hearts thump in the silence. You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling him kiss the top of your head.

Shaun suddenly exclaims, “Oh, my God, I got it wrong. The vegan one is in the flowers.”

Rose groans, tossing her fork on the plate, “Urgh! What am I eating?”

“Oh... Don't worry.” Shaun tries to help. “We'll just… give it to Grandad.” Sylvia adds, “Don't make a fuss. Pass me your plate.”

Donna looks between the two of you, smiling as she says, “You don't have to stay forever.”

The Doctor glances at you, and you smile up at him, saying, “We'll see.”

“Do you miss it? Out there?” Donna asks.

The Doctor looks around, realizing he’s surrounded by love as he says, “The funny thing is, I fought all those battles for all those years, and now I know what for. This. I've never been so happy in my life.”

This love infuses honey into the core of your being; it's akin to a gentle warmth seeping into the very marrow of your bones. Witnessing how it learns about you, fights on your behalf, and remains steadfast through life's storms by your side, you're reminded of the profound connection often overshadowed by the preference for distance over depth in this world. It's a reminder that hope emanates from the touch of another, concealed within the layers of undiscovered facets. You now comprehend that love was always intended to be gentle, always meant to be tender, as evidenced by the Doctor intertwining his fingers with yours, accompanied by a bright grin. Your bones are safe, and your heart can rest assured it belongs to him. Your world transforms, cradled by the comforting embrace that is the Doctor.

“So,” Donna begins as she chews her food and swallows as he smiles at her best friends, “When’s the wedding?”

TAGLIST:

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#14th doctor x reader #14th doctor x fem!reader #14th doctor x fem reader #14th doctor #10th doctor #doctor who #fourteen x reader #fourteenth doctor #dw specials #dw spoilers #doctor who special #doctor who 60th anniversary #dw 60th #60th anniversary

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rainbowmoonstonestories · 9 months ago

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A Bounty As Boundless As The Sea | Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: One Piece (Liveaction 2023) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Original Characters, Akagami no Shanks, Roronoa Zoro , Perona. Warnings: Mention of blood and physical torture, violence, 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching. Summary: Constantly evading capture due to a bounty on your head, you were forced to embrace the life of a pirate, despite your initial desire for a thrilling adventure and a simple exploration of the world. One fateful day, the Marines dispatched Dracule Mihawk to hunt you down, plunging you into a game of hide and seek with the formidable Warlord of the sea throughout the East Blue. However, to your surprise, the man proved to be less bloodthirsty and hostile than you had anticipated. His piercing, hawk-like eyes, shimmering with a deep golden hue, left an indelible impression on your mind, while his apathetic yet self-assured demeanor ignited a newfound sense of intrigue within you.

Credits: The divider was made by firefly-graphics.

Tagging: @gg-trini, @commanderfreethatdust, @canthebest1, @shakysif, @i-am-vita. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the future chapters, feel free to drop me a comment!

Read on AO3.

Dracule Mihawk, a man shrouded in mystery, had an allure that was almost impossible to ignore, even with scant knowledge about him. As fate would have it, this powerful attraction was reciprocated.

Warning: This chapter includes detailed smut!

When you offered that invitation to Dracule Mihawk, your intentions were unclear even to yourself. His heroic deed of saving you from a nearly unavoidable fatality seemed to instinctively provoke this response, and the prospect of an early departure was far from desirable, given the considerable time it took you to expunge his presence from your thoughts.

But now, as he stepped onto your ship and entered your private quarters—a place where no other man had previously been allowed—your heart refused to stay silent. The confined space of your vessel, where the bar area was placed in close proximity to your bed with only a modest couch acting as a divider, certainly did not help the situation.

Fortunately, you had a separate room dedicated to personal hygiene, discreetly placed on the opposite side and hidden behind a modest door. Thus, you allowed him to make himself comfortable, promptly excusing yourself to retreat into the washroom.

You hastily freshened up to restore your appearance after the strenuous battle, fixing your makeup and swiftly changing into a new attire. You didn't want to come across as overly provocative, but as a woman, you felt compelled to look decent in his commanding presence. You opted for a pair of velvety shorts, fastened with a broad belt that featured a striking golden buckle. You also picked a soft, high-quality leather top, adorned with a tasteful set of front laces that ensured it clung flatteringly to your torso. You chose, however, to completely abandon any form of footwear, allowing your legs and feet to be entirely unencumbered.

While looking good was of utter importance, you also needed to feel comfortable in your own space. Perhaps it was a bit too much considering you had a special guest, but you always valued presenting your authentic self, regardless of the occasion.

Or maybe, unbeknownst to you, Mihawk's calming aura instilled such a sense of ease that any need for formality was discarded. This notion struck you as profoundly ironic, especially considering that his initial task was to pursue and capture you.

Or worse.

As you exited the room, your bare feet meeting the cool wooden planks, your eyes locked with his golden stare. He was seated on the couch, legs crossed elegantly with his hands resting on his knees. His sword, tall enough to be mistaken for a menacing figure, was strategically placed beside the couch. Despite the indoor setting, his hat remained firmly on his head.

He was silent, scrutinizing you with an intense gaze. Attempting to maintain your composure, you sauntered over to the counter and fetched a pair of glasses.

With an air of nonchalance, you remarked, "You strike me as the wine type. Do you like it?”

"Wine is fine," he responded, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of indifference.

You acknowledged his response, turning to uncork one of the most exquisite wines procured in the East Blue. As you proceeded to pour the liquid, his expression immediatly altered, his eyes catching a glimpse of the scars on your back, stretching across your right shoulder from under your sleeveless top.

"What is that?"

He shattered the silence with a question that momentarily eluded your understanding. You swiveled your head around to face him, registering how his focus had drifted to your back. It didn't take long for you to discern what had suddenly ensnared his interest.

You answered with a casual shrug, filling both your glasses. "A souvenir from the Admiral I took down.”

Would he even have the inclination to learn about it? Did you harbor the bravery to revisit a nightmarish past you had strenuously endeavored to expunge from your memory?

Mihawk maintained his silence, which eventually led you to decide to lay it all out. "He took pleasure in using my back as his personal canvas to inflict and inscribe his marks.”

The echo of the man's laugh still rang in your ears, his sadistic, malevolent grin imprinted in your mind.

"Everything started with a mere piece of bread. I was starving and my timing was off. They assumed I was a pirate, never bothering to reason with me or listen to my side of the story.”

You made your way back to the couch, extending his glass for him to accept. His hawk-like eyes were transfixed on your form, not blinking once. Gradually, Mihawk accepted the offered wine, his fingers lightly grazing yours in the process.

You resumed your narration, settling down on the plush cushions next to him. "They always label pirates as the scum of the earth, the vilest breed of men alive. I've encountered my fair share of despicable ones, that's a fact, but the Marines can surpass them all in their depravity.”

Mihawk sipped his drink, his focus drifting away as he seemed to be engrossed in deep thought.

"It's not your identity that defines you. It's your actions, your choices. Deeds can resonate more powerfully than words.”

He swallowed the ruby-red, invigorating liquid, and you couldn't help but be captivated by the movement of his Adam's Apple.

"I apologize if I'm boring you," you confessed, smiling. "But tell me something; is your presence here really just a mere coincidence?”

Finally, as he set his glass down, holding it just above his lap, he hummed in response. "I have no interest in chasing after you.”

"Ouch," you answered playfully. "That's unfortunate. I was under the impression I was starting to grow on you.”

The way his eyes shifted back to you from the side, stern yet somehow comical, elicited a gentle chuckle from you.

"Regardless of what brought you here, it turned out to be beneficial for me, so... thank you.”

You changed your position, leaning your back against the couch and bringing the rim of the cold glass to your lips. As you moved, your thigh brushed against his, sparking a fleeting touch that sent a flutter of butterflies to your stomach.

Your hand softly traced your belly, where a few twinges of pain from the kick you received were still lingering. Mihawk appeared to notice this, his eyes falling on your fingers as they curled around the soft fabric of your top.

"I wonder, who is Dracule Mihawk, truly?" You pondered aloud. "You are not the subservient figure everyone portrays when they talk about you Warlords, are you?”

"I am certainly not,” he said with a grimace.

You appreciated the concise and earnest responses he offered when he was perfectly capable of delivering more elaborate speeches out of the blue. He was one-of-a-kind, enigmatic, and undoubtedly a man of many talents.

Once, you were filled with fear at the mere thought of him. Now, all you felt was a pulsing curiosity and a magnetic attraction.

"No, of course. I can see that.”

If only you could probe deeper, uncover more about this formidable man who had the power to erase your existence with the slightest touch.

"What held you back when you first saw me?" You questioned him. "I wasn't even aware of you then. You could have easily trapped me, vanquished me as you were expected to do.”

"Like I mentioned, I wanted to verify for myself if the reputation that preceded you was warranted.”

"Yes, and you also told me that you can become particularly laidback when you don't have anything interesting to keep yourself occupied with.”

He gave an almost imperceptible shrug, raising the glass back to his lips for another sip.

"Was that all there was to it? Boredom? Did you spare my life simply because there would be nothing to gain from my death?”

Was there something more underlying his benevolence?

"Why are you interested in knowing?”

"Because I don't get it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yes, Mihawk. I do.”

He didn't react, merely looking at you while keeping a calm and elegant posture on the couch. He had the aura of a refined Lord from affluent lands, akin to a king who carried his throne with him wherever he went.

"I left my hometown with the aspiration of finding a better life, oblivious to what I could find. All I was met with was prejudice, cruelty, violence, and greed.”

He listened in silence, gently swirling the half-empty glass in his hand.

"I genuinely thought you were no different, that you would kill me. But not only did you spare my life once, you literally saved my neck today.”

You leaned in, tilting your head to lock gazes with him more intensely. “I wasn't your responsibility, you could have left me there.”

His eyes dropped momentarily, only to return to your face with renewed determination.

"I simply chose not to," he responded.

No explanation or reasoning. His statement just stood as an unquestionable fact.

At that, you smiled. "Like I said, actions can define us better than words will ever do. You might be a Warlord of the sea, and the most formidable swordsman in the world. But more than anything, you're a good man.”

"A good man, you say?”

“Yes.”

"Don't be naive. I operate by my own rules, at my own pace. I can remove anyone without needing a particular reason, and I won't hesitate to topple those who dare to oppose me.”

Clearly, his aim was to sound intimidating and threatening. Yet, for some reason, his efforts didn't seem to impact you as he intended.

"Obviously," you retorted, as if his words were the most normal thing to hear. "But here's the thing; I held my knife to your throat, and yet, here I stand.”

His eyebrows arched as he regarded you with a mix of playfulness and mockery. "Did you believe that would frighten me away?”

"Certainly not. My point is that you didn't even make an attempt to disarm me.”

"So?”

You sighed. "So, we're back to the beginning. You could have overpowered me in a multitude of ways, left me to my fate, but for some inexplicable reason, you decided to help me.”

He hardly even blinked.

"You claimed I was intriguing, yet I mean nothing to you. I don't even pose a substantial challenge in battle.”

"That is your perspective.”

"No, it's an undeniable truth.”

"You were battling against a whole crew of men eager to claim your head.”

"And they would have succeeded if it weren't for your intervention. What do you think would happen if, for some reason, I found myself in a fight against you?”

He rolled his eyes. "All I'm hearing is pointless prattle.”

He definitely had a knack for being unnerving as well.

"What enjoyment could you possibly derive from keeping me alive?”

For the first time, you saw him genuinely struggle, as he parted his lips to speak, but halted himself mid-sentence. He pondered over it, searching for the appropriate explanation to provide.

When he finally did, you felt your breath hitch in your throat due to the spark you saw in his golden irises.

"I'm intrigued to see where your resilience might take you.”

You blinked a few times, feeling the glass almost slip from your grasp. "Are you implying that it would be a waste if I were to die?”

"This world could use a bit of a shake-up.”

The Warlord was artfully sidestepping your questions, not providing the answers you seeked but instead offering new perspectives on his intentions. As the strongest swordsman with no real competitor capable of giving him a worthy challenge, he had no other ambition left to chase after. Was he longing for a new type of world, reformed with more deserving and honorable people like yourself?

Your lips stretched into an even wider smile as you quietly brought the remaining drops of your wine to them.

He mirrored your action, draining his glass without breaking the eye contact, before setting it on the coffee table in front of him and rising to his feet.

From your seated position, he appeared incredibly towering and commanding.

"You ought to leave this town," he suggested, reaching for his sword. "Before someone else decides to come after you again.”

The color almost washed out from your face as you realized that he was about to depart. You knew it was irrational, preposterous, and somewhat immature, but you weren't ready for him to leave just yet.

Perhaps it was the wine, coupled with the earlier Daiquiri, clouding your judgment and bringing forth your most illogical thoughts. But for a fleeting moment, you were tempted to grasp his coat, draw him back down, and ask him to stay for a little while longer.

But you didn't.

"Oh... uh, yes. I should indeed.”

You also rose from the couch, moving towards the counter, intent on procuring more wine to drink. Without even a second thought, you poured some into your glass, watching as the crimson liquid flowed out, reminiscent of the blood that once seeped from your now healed wounds.

"It's ironic, you know," you voiced out, unable to suppress your churning thoughts.

"What is?" He asked indifferently.

You weren't supposed to reveal it, you shouldn't have let the alcohol amplify your instincts.

You didn't bother to turn around, as your mind became chaotic the moment you let it all spill out for him to hear. "There was a time when I wanted to just rid myself of you. But now, I almost wish you didn't have to go.”

As much as you tried to find a reasonable explanation, you couldn't decipher what it was about Mihawk that had you so enthralled. You had only shared a few words with the man; he was a solitary figure with an apparent disinterest in anything or anyone around him, unless it involved a good fight. He was sent by the Marines to hunt you down, only to observe you and then let you be. He saved your life of his own volition, stating that he wanted to see where your path would lead.

He was a stranger, someone you might not encounter again anytime soon.

And somehow, irrespective of the influence of alcohol, you found yourself needing him.

Given that Mihawk had noticeably halted in his tracks, you anticipated him either distancing himself with a harsh retort or simply walking away, disregarding your partially inebriated state completely.

However, he didn't even budge, boring holes into your back with his hawk-like, fiery scrutiny.

You spun around, leaning against the counter and bringing the glass to your lips once more. "Stay safe out there, Warlord.”

How foolish did that sound? If there was anyone who didn't need to worry about a single thing, it was Mihawk. You had heard tales of how he could even slice a bullet in half when someone attempted to shoot him unawares.

And yet, a part of you still felt compelled to worry about him, to wish him safe travels, free from any potential hazards.

Silly, that's what you were. So utterly, ridiculously silly.

However, events took such an unforeseen twist that you didn't even know how to process it. Silently, he returned the sword to its original position next to the couch, before taking a few strides in your direction. He halted right in front of you, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. He simply inspected your puzzled face, quiet and thoughtful, while you could only return the stare with a questioning expression.

The moment he reached for his hat, your heart rate quickened, pounding so heavily that you could hear it in your ears. For the first time, he removed the accessory, liberating his head from its covering, and placed it on the counter right beside you. You observed his forehead, no longer in shadow, and his eyes seemed even brighter and more golden. The dark roots of his hair were impeccably combed and aligned, with his soft locks following the curve of his head and ending at his nape.

Unable to hold back, you let your eyes fall directly onto his lips. They were perfectly sculpted, the upper lip creating a sinuous curve, looking absolutely enticing and positively delectable.

He continued, slowly taking hold of your glass and removing it from your hands, only to gently place it on the other side of the bar counter. You were left speechless, bewildered, and at a loss for words. Your hands lingered in the air, now empty.

You wanted to ask him why he was standing so close and suddenly looking as if he wanted to devour you. You wanted to understand what was going through his mind, but you couldn't even construct a coherent sentence because he didn't give you the chance to. His fingers brushed along the back of your neck, sliding upward, and gathering a handful of your hair in his fist. He wasn't gripping you particularly hard, but his hold was firm enough that your head was gently tilted backward. Your pupils dilated, and his followed suit. He wasn't causing you any pain, not even the slightest bit... but you could sense the roughness in his actions.

“You do enjoy playing with fire, don’t you?”

His voice was low and alluring, his hot breath on your skin exhilarating.

You smirked, swallowing your nervousness. "What can I say? Water is for the weak.”

He hummed in his typical manner, seemingly approving of your comeback.

"I should warn you, I'm not the gentle type.”

You laughed, your breath slightly shaky. "Is that supposed to scare me off?”

Instinctively, your hands found solace around the edges of his coat, drawing him closer against you.

His grip on your hair slackened, but he kept you securely in place. "If it did, I would be disappointed. As long as you understand what to brace yourself for.”

"Why are you still talking?”

The corners of his lips tilted upward, so subtly that it could easily go unnoticed. It was a faint grin that made your knees feel weak.

“Not a worthy challenge, hey?”

In that moment, you understood he was referencing your earlier statement. You might have been utterly insignificant against him on the battlefield, but he was clearly viewing you as a great adversary throughout your intimate banter.

Somehow, that provided a significant boost to your confidence.

You tightened your grip on his coat, breathing against his lips, your own barely brushing his chin, eagerly anticipating his next move. "Still talking. Come on, you can do better than that.”

It didn't take long for him to finally relinquish his own inhibitions. Without any warning, he crashed his lips against yours, initiating what you could only describe as the most intense, sexiest, and passionate kiss a man had ever bestowed upon you. His mouth was so forceful and quick that you could barely keep pace; his tongue immediately found yours and initiated a sensual dance.

You didn't want to be left behind. Pushing aside the slight haze clouding your mind due to the wine, which you could also taste on his lips, you grasped the lapels of his coat and reciprocated the kiss with equal intensity and a mounting desperation. His fingers completely let go of your hair, only to fan out over your nape, enveloping it in his grip. His mustache and beard were tickling your face, but you found it absolutely enchanting.

Only when you felt the need to breathe again did he detach from you with a wet pop sound, immediately descending to your neck to plant open-mouthed kisses on its sensitive nerves.

You felt his touch on the front of your top, as his middle and forefinger started to tug at the laces, undoing the main knot slowly but with evident eagerness. He wasn't joking when he said you shouldn't expect the gentle type, as he preferred to get straight to the point without much preamble. Given his typically apathetic demeanor, you were taken aback to see him so engrossed in the situation, let alone in you. Never for a moment did you think he could view you in such a manner, and whether he was doing it now in response to your provocation, or because of a deeper interest that began well before that day, you weren't sure.

You surmised that he needed to let go from time to time to release his tension. After all, he was still a man.

And you were completely on board for it.

His lips were impatient, almost hungrily latching onto the skin at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your eyes rolled back into your head, and a soft moan escaped from your lips, which only spurred him on to touch you with even more force.

It was different, and it was new. But he wasn't causing you any pain, and this rougher side of him was rather enticing.

He lifted your top, the fabric brushing along your stomach, up to your breasts and over your chest. You silently complied, raising your arms and allowing him to remove the garment, which ended up tossed on the floor. His eyes were mesmerizing, and you couldn't look away.

Now, with only a thin bra as your shield, a surge of self-consciousness began to creep in. Despite this, you stood your ground, refusing to let it hinder you. Tentatively, you slid your hands along his arms, daring to rest your fingertips on his collarbones. He waited, motionless, anticipating more.

Your exploration continued, descending to his pectorals and lightly brushing the cold metal of his golden cross. Then, you moved back upwards, sliding your hands under his coat, gently pushing it off his shoulders to remove it. His skin was silky smooth and warm, it made your mouth water from your caresses alone. The coat dropped next to your shirt, and without it, he suddenly seemed incredibly bare despite still wearing his trousers and boots.

It was quite amusing to see. His coat was like a suit of armor, a cape, protecting him from all that was undesirable. And now, he stood there, a figure of strength yet imbued with vulnerability, prepared to surrender himself to you.

Once more, blinded by your desire for him, you fervently locked your lips with his. Your arms encircled his neck, fingers entwining with the strands of his hair. The discomfort of your back against the counter urged you to move away from it, unintentionally pressing your breasts against his chest in the process.

"Bed," you murmured amidst the flurry of kisses, just before you leapt into his lap, wrapping your legs securely around his waist.

It was a bold move, one that he welcomed with a firm grip and squeeze of your thighs. With careful steps to avoid tripping over the table and couch, Mihawk made his way to the mattress, unceremoniously hurling you onto it. You bounced as he climbed up, encasing you between his legs on either side of your body. His penetrating stare from above served as a vivid reminder of who was truly in command, eliciting a smirk of satisfaction from you.

His right hand gravitated towards the cross pendant on his chest, while his left one deftly located the knot of the black lace that held it around his neck. He loosened it, only to take off the golden cap of the cross, revealing a concealed small knife within it.

Admittedly, you were decidedly perplexed and anxious, observing him gaze down at you with the dagger held delicately between his fingers. However, the moment he guided the blade to your chest, positioned precisely above the center of your bra, his intentions became clear.

The instant he slid the knife under the band connecting the cups of your bra, you stopped him by seizing his wrist.

"Don't you dare," you warned menacingly. "It has a clasp, you know.”

The way he arched an eyebrow at you spoke volumes, subtly hinting that he had no intention of wasting his time with it.

With a frustrated groan, you arched your upper body, managing to reach the clasp yourself and unfastening it within mere seconds. "I swear, men can be so lazy at times.”

As you allowed the straps to slide off your shoulders, maintaining the cups in place, Mihawk reassembled the cross and casually placed it on the nightstand next to your bed. He immediately locked his mouth with yours, quickly removing your bra and haphazardly tossing it into the room, his hands simultaneously finding its place on your waist.

You could feel his palms smoothly traversing your sides and making their way up your spine, but the moment his fingertips grazed over some particularly sensitive scars, you jolted upward, and a muffled gasp slipped past your lips.

He paused, his actions coming to a standstill as he studied you. A sudden rush of embarrassment overtook you, prompting you to cast your eyes downward.

"Sorry about that," you apologized, your voice faint and almost inaudible.

You feared that he might decide to leave, irked or repelled by the unsightly network of scars that was ingrained into your skin, resembling an irregular spiderweb. You instinctively guarded your body, precariously perched on the edge of the mattress, awkwardly biting your tongue.

His tone was firm, authoritative, yet unexpectedly gentle when he spoke to you. "Show me.”

Before you had the opportunity to look at him again, he hastily guided you to rotate, nudging you to sit facing away from him. You found yourself frozen, rendered mute, with your arms protectively crossed over your chest as he inspected your back. He observed every nuance, carefully tracing the outlines of your scars with his index and middle finger.

When your voice finally found its way back, you released your pent-up thoughts. "It's not a pleasant sight, I know.”

"I've seen worse,” he stated.

He sounded unperturbed, casual, as if what he was observing was nothing to fuss over.

You smiled. "And done worse?”

"That might be true as well.”

Somehow, as macabre as the conversation was, it managed to lighten the mood, eliciting a brief chuckle from you.

“Are you scared of me?”

But then, his question took you by surprise. "No. Why?”

“You’re shaking like a leaf.”

And you realized that he was right, as your entire body quivered under his soft touch. Despite his inherent deadly nature, it felt incredibly soothing to have him attentively handle the scars you so deeply despised.

It was nothing he hadn't seen before. As a swordsman, he had undoubtedly came across countless injured and fallen bodies in all sorts of gruesome conditions. Your scars meant nothing to him, and yet, he behaved as someone who genuinely felt a need to reassure you about them.

In a way, you got the impression that he was attempting to make you feel proud of the marks you bore.

"I'm not afraid, Mihawk. Not of you.”

Should you have been, really?

"And right now... this feels nice.”

His fingers decelerated their movement, hovering over the lengthy scar that trailed along the back of your shoulders. He tuned into your breathing, shaky and rapid, using it as an indication for his subsequent moves.

He drew you closer, reaching out to guide your arms away from your chest, granting him a better view. The cool cabin air heightened the growing excitement stirring in you, causing your nipples to stiffen instantly. Releasing your wrists, his roughened palms smoothly traveled along your stomach, eventually encircling your breasts, now fully exposed. Holding their soft flesh and lifting them, his thumbs traced tantalizing circles around the tips, making you involuntarily lean onto his elbows for support.

You let your head find comfort on his shoulder, the slight prickling sensation of his beard grazing your cheek. He was relentless, teasing you with his enticing motions, awaiting the moment when you would unravel under his skilled touch. Already, you were a picture of disarray, moaning and squirming within his hold.

Both of you rose to your knees for better positioning, and as he continued to stimulate your body, you could increasingly feel his undeniable hardness pressing against you through his trousers. You grappled to maintain your balance, his thumbs quickening their pace on your nipples, while his hips executed synchronized grinding circles with yours.

To say he was driving you wild would be an understatement. One of his hands left your chest to venture lower, this time, making a beeline for your belt buckle. He quickly managed to undo it, slipping inside your undergarments, and reaching his intended destination.

The moan that escaped you was quite unabashed, but there was little you could do when his fingers discovered your clitoris, skillfully stroking it up and down. Any other man, upon getting to this point, would stop before you could reach your climax, purely to extend your pleasure and ensure that you wouldn't finish before them. Mihawk, however, was not just any man, and judging by the escalating pace of his fingers, it was clear that he had absolutely no intention of severing the physical connection.

He was typically impatient and easily bored, evidently searching for some entertaining diversion to pass the time. Edging you didn't appear to be his goal, and the moment you could sense your impending gratification, trembling and writhing uncontrollably, he applied even more pressure against you. You could feel your clit throbbing, on the brink of release at any moment. Mihawk remained quiet, not making a single sound, his breaths echoing in your ear through his nose.

It was intensely heated, unbearably seductive.

As your legs parted, he took advantage of the moment to gather some of your wetness and employ it to enhance the friction. Your nails dug into the flesh of his arms, yet he remained unfazed and continued. Eventually, he began to move in sync with you, navigating to your entrance and tenderly caressing your clit with the heel of his hand.

The ease with which he curled those digits inside and promptly found your most sensitive area was astounding. He targeted it directly, moving in and out, making a constant beckoning gesture with his fingers. Your eyes rolled back into your head, your voice growing progressively louder, but you found it beyond your control to rein it in.

Your orgasm crashed onto you, exploding from your core like a lightning strike. You jolted and moaned, gasping for breath, as the bed emitted creaks beneath you. He didn't retreat, instead, he slowed his pace but never fully disengaged. Only when he was certain you had no more to offer, did he carefully remove his fingers, affording you the opportunity to regain your lucidity.

It took you a moment to gather yourself, leaning over the mattress and collapsing onto it.

"Well," you declared. "You certainly know what you're doing.”

"Why, did you believe me to be completely inept?"

"Not at all. It's just... you really don't dawdle, do you?”

As you rolled onto your back, you nearly choked on your own saliva. He was hovering over you again, casting a menacing stare from above while he unbuckled his own trousers. Before you could fully process it, the gleaming, flushed tip of his member emerged from the elegant slit in the front of his trousers, a view that subconsciously incited forbidden imagery by putting his navel on display in a normal setting.

He appeared to pause, awaiting something. He glanced at you with a hint of expectation, subtly lifting an eyebrow as if conveying: "What are you waiting for?”

Thus, with your heart fluttering wildly and your stomach churning, you raised your hands to further uncover him, pushing his trousers down along with the undergarments and letting his arousal spring free. It was proud and formidable, as robust as a sword, as fierce as a beast.

Without waiting for him to speak or make any further action, you encircled the base with your palm and guided your hand along its length to the tip. He didn't overtly react, but you noticed him swallow subtly and press his lips more tightly together.

You replicated the maneuver, but with increased pressure and quicker movements. He kept his hands still at his sides, but his fingers twitched intermittently, indicating to you that you were on the right track. You cherished his calmness as much as you relished witnessing his chest heaving at a faster pace than before.

Regrettably, he didn't allow you to complete what you had started. The moment he decided he'd had enough, Mihawk grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand aside. He grasped the hem of your shorts and panties together, swiftly sliding them off your legs in one fluid motion.

He possessed no patience at all, simply taking whatever he wanted, repositioning himself between your legs and aligning with your entrance. As much as you would have loved to see him come undone under your touch, you couldn't truly protest, for you wanted him as intensely as he yearned to be inside you.

His face was stoic, unaltered, almost as if chiseled into a mask. But the way his golden eyes sparkled before you, and his jaw tightened in response to the palpable need overtaking him, managed to stir you even more than the sound of a man moaning in pleasure.

You shifted on the mattress, clutching the covers and spreading your legs further to grant him optimal access. Once again, he hummed in approval, encircling your thighs with his arms and drawing them to his waist.

But he silently stared at you, the tip of his arousal gently nudging your folds without proceeding.

Bewildered, you inquired. "What?"

"Are you truly certain about this?”

Your mouth fell open as you regarded him in disbelief. “I'm right here with my legs spread wide and your damn dick against me. It's a bit late to question me now, don't you think?”

He drew a breath through his nose. “Do you understand what you're about to get into?”

“Uhh… yes? We’re supposed to have sex here. What else could there be?”

Mihawk subtly thrust his hips forward, his warm length nearly entering.

"I won't be gentle," he responded.

“Yeah, you said that already.”

"Even if you plead with me, I won't stop.”

“Do you think I’d ever do that?”

You inferred he simply wanted to ensure you were granting him clear consent to continue. And while you strived to maintain composure, feeling him so close yet so far away, you held respect for his unconventional gentleness. Or whatever it could be called.

“You’re brave,” he stated with a hint of satisfaction. "But don't shed tears later.”

You rolled your eyes. "Mihawk, seriously. Just do it. If you believe I'll break and weep, then don’t.”

To further emphasize your point, you moved your waist allowing his tip to partially slide in. You bit your lower lip to suppress the emerging moan in your throat, and comfortably adjusted by raising your arm and positioning it just behind the pillow under your head.

You were presenting yourself to him, unconditionally, prepared to accept everything he had to offer.

Unable to resist his impulses any longer, Mihawk finally made his move. With a firm, confident thrust, he fully sheathed himself in you. A hiss escaped your lips as you inhaled sharply, your body pushed upwards, head thrown back in response.

You felt unbelieavably full, and without giving you a moment's respite, he quickened the pace. He moved with a rough, and powerful rhythm, his fingertips digging into your skin so deeply that you could feel his nails on it.

At first, your body stretched to accommodate him, a sensation that was slightly painful and not as pleasurable as you wanted it to be. But as soon as you adjusted to it, your muscles relaxed, leading to a wave of delightful ecstasy that ignited your core and sent electrifying sensations through your nerves.

And it felt unlike anything you had ever experienced.

Your moans were soft and melodic, contrasting with his quiet grunts that echoed in his chest. Mihawk quickened his movements even further, generating a set of scandalous sounds that deepened your blush. He was moving with such intensity that you feared your bed might split in half, given the way it vibrated against the wooden wall.

Then he stopped, albeit briefly, to guide you into a different position. "Turn around.”

There was an undeniable ecstasy in the way he treated you. His actions were primal, far removed from romantic, yet paradoxically, despite the evident force in his behavior, he still seemed to treat you with a degree of tenderness and delicacy.

You complied, bending over the mattress, and without wasting any time, he entered you again from behind.

Isaiah had been a wonderful lover, the best you'd ever had, until Mihawk came into the picture. Though you typically refrained from making comparisons, acknowledging that every man is unique in his own way, you couldn't ignore the irrefutable truth: the Warlord was in a league of his own, making you feel guilty for even entertaining such a thought.

The act was carnal and sensual, stirring within you a desire for more when you believed there was nothing else to ask for. He felt absolutely wonderful both in and out, and his touch, tracing over your scars with a strangely protective tenderness that you didn’t expect, ignited a flame in your chest that cascaded downwards. Your clit throbbed, your inner walls convulsed and gripped him with an impossible tightness. You could sense your climax approaching for the second time, spurred on by his relentless thrusts.

Neither of you spoke, but it was fine. You were engrossed in the moment, disregarding the ache in your limbs from the previous exertion. Letting go of the built-up tension post-battle was exactly what you craved, and Mihawk had his fair share of unsettled nerves too. For all you knew, he could have countless women scattered across the four Blues, but the desperate and hungry way his body melded into yours indicated that he wasn't one to frequently seek out or appreciate the company of others.

People often depicted him as a lone wolf, a man enamored with his sword. And yet, here he was, providing you with the most remarkable sexual experience of your entire life.

You found yourself entirely consumed, yielding to his dominant aura, continuously pushed against the mattress, moaning in delight. He had warned you that he wouldn't stop, not even if you pleaded with him, but the only entreaties that escaped your lips were for him to quicken his pace and to continue for as long as he could go.

When he brought his mouth close to your ear, prompting your knees to spread wider with his own, there was only so much you could do to prevent your core from exploding.

Mh. You're managing this better than I expected you would, I'll give you that.”

A chuckle bubbled up from you. "I thought you held me in higher regard.”

“I certainly do now.”

His left arm slithered around your shoulders, securing itself around your neck to encase you and hold you in place. His other hand glided along your side, sneaking to the front and locating your clitoris, so sensitive that you nearly climaxed the moment he pinched it.

You were panting quite heavily now, teetering on the brink of orgasm as you rested your cheek against his arm. You didn't even realize that you were pressing kisses to it, grazing your warm lips along his skin, which was hot and salty.

"Are you there?”

You nodded your head. "Almost.”

"Would you look at that. Your endurance is impressive.”

You laughed, a surge of pride filling your heart. “You're talking too much again, Warlord.”

“Mhh.”

You absolutely adored the vibrations that resonated through his chest whenever he hummed. You felt him pulsing and twitching inside you, signaling that he was as close to the brink as you were. As the resounding slaps of skin meeting skin filled the air around you, his fingers expertly manipulated your sensitive bud. His fingers stroked it, moving in rapic circles, combined with the consistent stimulation of your tender spot inside.

It was too much, and you buried your face in his arm the moment you finally crossed the point of no return.

Your second orgasm was even more intense than the first, a feat you never truly believed was possible. You twitched and trembled from head to toe, tightening around him with each wave of pleasure that took some time to recede.

Eventually, he joined you, quietly succumbing to his own pleasure, grunting softly and brushing his lips against the scar on your shoulder. You were aware that Mihawk did not harbor any specific feelings for you, but despite that, you found his gesture deeply endearing.

And with that, your heart constricted.

As the enchantment of the moment faded, he extricated himself from you and left the bed, fastening his belt and heading back to where his coat lay. As he slipped into it and reached for his hat still resting on the counter, you watched him. Disappointment washed over you for reasons you couldn't quite articulate.

Gathering your strength, you pushed yourself up from the mattress, hastily collecting your underwear and putting it back on, disregarding the shorts strewn on the floor. It took a moment for you to locate the bra he had tossed, which had ended up in a distant corner.

His golden cross knife was still on your bedside table. It felt significantly lighter than you had anticipated as you held it in your hand, lingering on its weight a moment too long. Mihawk was right behind you, his towering presence looming over your smaller frame, waiting for you to return it.

You turned immediatly, smiling, taking hold of the cord on either side and looping it around his neck. You tried to recall the exact length he preferred, gently positioning it on his chest and tying a knot to keep it in place. The ends of his short hair tickled your hands as you secured it, and he allowed you to do so without a single protest or complaint.

Somehow, that act felt even more intimate than what you had just done. His gaze was once again fixed on you, frozen, expressionless, difficult to interpret. The temptation to kiss him again was strong, but with the sexual tension now gone, you feared he might not reciprocate.

And so, you took a step back. "Thank you for the company," you said evenly, feigning indifference to the entire situation.

Whether he believed you or not, you couldn't ascertain. As he casually strolled towards the couch to get his sword, a surge of disappointment engulfed you, leaving you more downcast than you were prepared to acknowledge.

You knew it didn't mean anything. But for the very first time, a part of you had dared to hope there could be something more. You dragged your feet to the bar counter, picking up his empty glass from the table along the way. You quietly cleaned things up, letting the cold water from the sink cascade over your hands.

And just when you thought he had already left, he spoke words that instantly set off a flutter of butterflies in your stomach, soaring straight to your heart.

“Be careful out there.”

You glanced at him once again. His face was as impassive as ever, but the fact that he had taken a moment to express his concern was more than sufficient for you.

You grinned in delight. "Always.”

With a barely noticeable nod, he slung his sword onto his back and stepped away, opening the cabin door and disappearing up the steps. You stayed there, still, listening to the rhythmic sound of his boots meeting the wooden floor as Mihawk steadily departed, until silence engulfed your vessel.

You didn't know when or if you would see him again. The only thing you could do was hope that, sooner rather than later, you would encounter those mesmerizing golden eyes once more.

And as fate would have it, you did.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 4 ->

#one piece liveaction #opla mihawk #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #opla mihawk x reader #smut #one piece liveaction fanfic #opla fanfiction

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nctstar · 1 year ago

Text

the day that i met you i started dreaming.

You watched in satisfaction as the imprint of your lips stained a faded red colour, two semi-circles adorned by fine lines. The smell of strawberry wafted gently, so subtle you could have missed it. Yet, his voice rang in your ears. “You taste so sweet, baby. You always do.”

pairing: jungwoo x fem!reader

other members: johnny, mark (+his brother), haechan (only mentioned)

word count: 3k

genre: fluff, romance

warnings: lots of kissing, one small smutty scene, not very graphic (penetration and kissing only), profanity (one use of the f word, shit)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my imagination. I don't know the nct members (including their family members!) and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. Also, even though I was inspired by mark's real life doesn't mean this is accurate at all, please keep that in mind nobody sue me please.

a/n: this is for my bestie @neocty because I love her and there aren't enough jungwoo fics out there and she is struggling, so I did what any good friend would do <3 so everyone else please look away (and by that I mean like and reblog and send me requests)

∞

You had first met Jungwoo in your first year of university. Surrounded by girls, one of them having their entire torso turned towards him like she was ready to mount at any moment. Giggles floated past you as you walked by, books slipping in your arms from the sweat on your skin. The edges dug uncomfortably into your side as you tried hoisting them from side to side, trying to find that sweet spot that wouldn’t make you want to throw all of them only the floor, give up and go home.

“Hey.” You hadn’t heard it at first, too busy untangling your arms. But it suddenly felt silent, too silent now, the giggles now gone. You looked up, and the first thing you noticed was also the first thing you said.

“We have the same headphones.” Your voice was monotone, your breath heating up your cheeks underneath your mask.

He frowned, and the second thing you noticed was-

“I like whatever you’re wearing on your l-lips.” He stammered towards the end, probably now understanding how strange that sounded. But if he was embarrassed, he didn’t let on. His face erupted in a confident, self-assured smile, one hand effortlessly running through his dusty brown hair. His face was cute, like a puppy, or a fluffy cat. Soft features, smile lines and shallow dimples on one side of his face. “I’m not hitting on you. My sister runs a small business and sells makeup. I’m trying to get girls to buy her stuff. She’s saving up for a car because she hates public transport. I, personally, don’t mind it. Anyway. Um, you want a flyer?” Paper shuffled in his hands as you realised that he was handing out flyers, not what you had originally thought when you saw all those girls around him.

You fought the urge to say aww as you took a flyer tentatively. You didn’t wear makeup other than yes, your lipgloss, the same one you had brought from your home country since you didn’t really have time to shop in Korea in the few days you had been here already. Your eyes started scanning up and down the flyer while your mind pondered, who still uses flyers to advertise nowadays?

You shuffled from foot to foot, aware that he was still standing in front of you for some reason. “Your sister seems really talented.”

“She is. She also, looks a lot like me.” Jungwoo proceeded to shove the remaining flyers under his armpit, other hand flipping out his phone. In your peripheral vision, you watched one girl side eye you, hard, very possibly the one who had wanted to mount him a minute ago. “Oh, that’s okay, um- oh wow!” Your eyes widened. “You guys look so alike!”

“Right?” Strangers standing musing for more than a minute was odd enough, but what he did next was even weirder.

“The flyer I gave you has my number on it, by the way.”

You looked at his face, soft brown eyes full of hope that made your heart twinge slightly with delight. He was so adorable.

“What happened to ‘I’m not hitting on you’?”

“I’m really not? It’s because my sister lost her phone, and,” he grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head, “I want to help her earn money as soon as possible. Because if I don’t-“

He grabbed both your arms, making you flinch a little in surprise, but not pull away, eyebrows perked at his words.

“-she’s going to make me drive her to uni every day! Do you want that for me?” He whisper-shouted this last bit, and you shrugged his arms off.

“I don’t even know your name, so…”

“Kim Jungwoo. Jungwoo. Are you from America?”

“How could you tell?” You smiled, the English rolling off your tongue with ease. “I’m actually technically from Canada. Born and raised. Lived in New York for a while, so…close enough, I guess.”

“Oh! So is my roommate! His brother is auditioning for SM tomorrow, and he needs me to drive them both there-“

You laughed, this time your head naturally rocking back. “Are you the campus free uber or something, Kim Jungwoo?”

“No, he’s dating my sister. Mark’s brother, not him. Hey!” He pointed one finger out, almost comically, like a cartoon character. “You should date Mark.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re both from Canada. It just makes sense. He gets lonely sometimes. I think it’ll be good. Will you come with me?” He talked with the speed of someone on drugs, but with none of the fatigue or lack of lust for life. In fact, he was what you would expect if you asked anyone in the world to picture someone bright and cheery.

You told yourself that was the only reason you said yes that day. Never could you have known how far your relationship would end up growing. Like the first seeds someone carelessly tosses to the dirt in the cold season, another person notices and starts to water here and then, it was only a matter of time before something bloomed come summer.

∞

“We’re going to be late.”

“Oh, relax.” Jungwoo scoffed, but you eyed his nervous hands, shaking and fumbling with everything, from the gear stick to the AC controls. Behind you, Mark’s voice called out. “Did you want me to-“

“No, Mark. It’s fine.” You shared a knowing glance with the Canadian boy in the back seat, and Jungwoo noticed. He coughed, smiling like he knew something everyone else didn’t. “Shut up.” You hissed. He giggled louder, now catching the attention of Mark’s brother behind the driver’s seat, his eyes warily leaving his phone for only a second or two. “What’s so funny?”

Jungwoo finally pulls back the gear shift, that engine now grumbling to life. “I just think _ is too nice and pretty to not have a date for Christmas.” Puppy dog eyes now on you, shirt hanging loosely on his body, he turned and tapped you on the chin playfully. You rolled your eyes, groaning. “Oh my god. Tell me why I even started talking to you that day?”

“You said you reminded me of a puppy.” He pouted, making a tiny, perhaps insignificant part of you beam with something warmer, deeper that just friendship. For the past month, Jungwoo and you had been on a casual texting basis. If by casual, you meant every day, multiple times a day. Turns out you both just had a lot to talk about, or were drawn to each other, or…well, you didn’t want to think about it too much. All you knew is that for the first time since you had arrived here, or honestly, in your entire life, you felt like yourself. And that was enough for you. More than enough.

Now here you guys were, talking about dates for Christmas.

“Can we go, guys? Seriously.” You nodded aggressively and swatted at Jungwoo to start the car, while Mark leaned over, tapping you on the shoulder. Your body swayed as Jungwoo started driving as if he hadn’t driven in ten years. “Jungwoo told me your lips are pretty.”

“Uhm, excuse me!” Jungwoo braked hard at the lights, making the two men in the backseat yelp, Mark now flown back with a resounding dull thump. “Oh my god. Forget making it on time. I’m not sure we’ll make it there alive.” Concerned murmurs filled the car, but Jungwoo kept his foot on the accelerator, pushing through. “Oh relax, guys. And also, you agreed with me, Mark!”

“Well,” You pressed your head against the seat, hoping to avoid a future concussion. “I am wearing Min-ah’s lipgloss, so, it’s all thanks to her.” You shared a smile with Jungwoo, him glancing at you for far too long for someone on a busy road. Mark’s brother raised his arm in frustration. “Jungwoo! Please. I want to be an idol, I want to live!” A loud honk kick-started the car again, narrowly missing the lights changing from yellow to red at the busy intersection.

“Oh, Jin-hyung! That means you could probably advertise the glosses, right?” He slunk back into his seat, muttering something like they’re both mad. “Well, like, after you pass, of course.”

“I’m not sure I will.” Everyone in the car started overlapping with words of affirmations and enthusiastic praises, even yourself. “You’re so great! And you’ve practiced, what, like ten times? And that’s just in front of us.”

“Yeah, Hyung.” Mark’s hands patted Jin-hyung’s knee. “You’re the best singer I know.”

Jin-hyung turned to face Mark swiftly. “Can you come in with me?”

“Um, wait-“

“Please? I’m gonna shit myself if I go in alone. Please?”

Jungwoo leant in towards you, and you immediately placed one hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Easy, tiger. You know you have to stay in your seat to drive, right?”

His eyes not leaving the road, he asked, “What are they talking about?”

“Jin-hyung’s asking Mark if he can come in with him. I’m not sure if that’s allowed…” You trailed off, watching the building tower over you, drizzles of rain prickling the wide front window. “Wow. Is this it?”

Jungwoo nodded, his attention now on the brothers in the back seat as he tried to park the car. The atmosphere was noticeably intense now, and you also weren’t sure how to react. He coughed. “We’re here. You guys alright?”

“No. Shit, I can’t do it. I can’t.” Jin-hyung’s face was one of pure terror, face pale and clammy, pit stains now forming on his shirt despite the cold blasts of air from the AC. You and Jungwoo shared a glance, the first one that wasn’t silly, rolling your eyes or smirking. “Well, a-are you sure?”

He was quiet, and you noticed light reflecting off the rearview mirror, Mark looking down and biting his lip, face marked with intense concentration. The tension in the car was suddenly thick, like the way a bread knife runs through a block of cold butter, and you swallowed. Finally, Mark spoke. “Okay, Hyung. I’ll come in with you.”

You watched as Jin-young’s chest retreated as he breathed a sigh of relief, cheeks still flushed and red. He tried not to let this relief show, but his voice cracked as he spoke softly. “Thanks, Min-hyung.”

After the two left the car, it was just you and Jungwoo. And, for the first time since you guys had met, it was quiet, maybe even a little awkward. Your hands flew towards the controls of the car, trying to fill the time, only to be met with Jungwoo’s skin on the back of his hand. Wow, he felt so soft. “Oh, sorry. Do you listen to music? I mean, should we?” Retreating your hand slowly, you let your eyes travel to his face.

“Kiss me.”

“What?” You didn’t even register, even as you replied. He looked equally as shocked, staring back at you blankly as if someone else had said what he had said. He let one arm slump over the back of his seat, and your heart starting pounding, your throat clammy. “Jungwoo…”

“I don’t know why I said that, sorry.”

“Wait, do you…But you wanted…me and Mark…”

“I know!” He brought both his palms to his face, rubbing his eyes so hard until it felt like you were seeing stars. “I know. That was so stupid. I can’t believe that just happened.”

You were silent, your emotions rattling inside you noisily, threatening to blow your cover. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, until you stared at his doe eyes, his cheeks now flushed pink with embarrassment. You leaned over, closing your eyes at one point before your lips met, soft, plush, a mix of his morning Americano and the strawberry lipbalm from Min-ah. Pulling away, you were met with the tiny intricacies of his face, his scent, the feeling of his shirt under your palm. The cologne he was wearing tickled your sinuses. Normally you hated that smell, but today…

“Was that okay?” His breath caressed the thin skin on your face, and you nodded almost involuntarily. “Your cologne is a bit strong for me, though.”

“My what?”

“Sorry.” You had no idea why you were so unfiltered with him, thoughts running free from the confines of your brain and into the air. “It’s just…men’s cologne makes me sneeze.”

“Oh baby, you are so cute.” His voice deepened and it felt like someone just released a dozen hungry butterflies loose in your stomach, beautiful and urgent. He chuckled, pressing a kiss now to the sides of your lips. “You’re cute when you blush. So cute.”

The sound of the car door opening made you both jump, both pulling away in the process, backs now snug against your own seats. “How did it-“ you started.

“Min-hyung is going to be an idol!” Jin-hyung’s face was sweaty and warm, his eyes puffy and red possibly from crying, but he wore an unapologetic smile on his face, like this was what he wanted all along, and the relief was simply euphoric.

∞

You pulled your hand away from inside his, trying to rid the clammy feeling off your palms. “What’s wrong?”

“Just nervous.” Jungwoo towered over you, wearing one of those denim fleece jackets you loved so much over a white t-shirt you had gifted him 2 weeks ago. “You look so yummy in white, Woo.” You wanted to cringe at that your own voice reverberating through your skull, but you felt warm and nice instead, like you had just sipped hot chocolate in this freezing weather. He knocked his ankle against yours, playfully pushing you to the side, only to drag you back with his arm looped around yours. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

“Okay.” You nodded, but anxiety still stirred inside you, making you sick. “Plus, we can always leave if you want.”

“_! Jungwoo-hyung!” Mark looked small in his oversized puffer jacket, waving one arm over his head enthusiastically. Beside him was Johnny Suh, a trainee friend of Mark’s from Chicago, master of sarcasm and dad jokes. Walking up towards the two men, Jungwoo’s arms slipped away from yours, and you playfully patted Johnny on the arm. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, gorgeous. Wait, are you and Jungwoo a thing now?” You half-smiled, shivering against the blast of cold air that pierced through your stockings. You felt warmth spreading on the small of your back, and Jungwoo’s voice behind you. “Yeah, man.”

“I got him that.” You pointed at Jungwoo’s shirt, and he pulled you closer to your side, squeezing your hip firmly. “Yeah. So you can stop flirting with her now.”

“Damn, so you went out with her only to stop me from flirting? Red flag.” He raised his eyebrows comically, and you laughed, but Jungwoo didn’t seem very amused, not to you. He smiled and nodded, but you immediately knew he was uncomfortable. His lips were pale but plump, and you fought the urge to kiss him, biting your own bottom lip in reflex.

When you went inside, you wriggled your shoulders, shaking off your coat. “Hey, baby, you okay? You’re not jealous, are you?” Your tone was teasing, but you watched him carefully, at the way he avoided eye contact with you as he searched for an empty space on the coat rack. “I’m fine.” He muttered, and you pressed your lips together, fighting a giggle. Probably your toxic trait but he was so cute when he was sulky and pouty that you didn’t know how anyone took him seriously. “Woo, please. Don’t lie.”

“Okay!” He still wasn’t looking at you, smiling and nodding at passersby’s as he spoke. “I don’t care that he flirts with you, I really don’t, I really really…”

“Yes, you do.” You rested your weight on one hip, crossing your arms across your chest to look up at him.

“No, I don’t! I trust you.” The warm flame you had burning inside you erupted, replacing that tiny flame of anxiety, filling you with a sense of security, of love. I trust you.

“But you said I’m the funniest man you met, yet you keep laughing at his jokes.”

It was your turn laugh noisily in response, so much so that Mark noticed and joined in from afar, probably already a little tipsy and sharing random anecdotes from his life that no one asked for. You brushed snow off your boyfriend’s shoulders, watching as his nose and cheeks flushed red from the cold. “Cute. You’re so cute.”

“Well, I know that, but am I funny? I don’t care if your exes were hot or whatever, but funny?”

“First of all, you know you’re my first serious relationship. And secondly, Johnny’s humour is different. It’s more flirty, on the spot. You, well, you’re awkward and cute funny, you know? Plus,” you leaned in, intentionally letting the lipgloss on your lips smudge on his sensitive skin behind his ear, “you’re the only one I wanna kiss so bad right now.”

“WOAH! Get a room, you too!” You pulled away, noticing that the red on his cheeks were deeper, spreading all over his face. His eyes stared back at you almost blankly, and you pecked his cheek. “After this, okay? You can have all of me.”

∞

Chest heaving, you shut your eyes, wanting to savour every moment that had passed. Your bare skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, legs tangled in his. You felt him brush up against your neck, his voice vibrating in your ears. “Was that okay?” He asked as if he already knew the answer, pressing his bare body closer to you. You answered by bringing your face closer to his, and he sighed. “You taste like watermelon today. Lemon yesterday, and then strawberry on Tuesday.”

“Jungwoo, this isn’t what I wanted you to say after we had sex for the first time.”

“Sorry.” His eyes were flickering shut. “But you taste really good. Like, everywhere.”

“That’s so cute and kind of nasty too.” You scrunched your nose, and he chuckled. You hiked one leg above his thigh, needing him again. “Can I?”

He kissed you, sucking your lips, making you moan audibly and the tension in your body release as you sunk down on his length. “O-oh.” You whimpered as he began to thrust slowly into you, pressing your hips tight against his. “Fuck, yes.”

Your boobs against his bare chest, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, you kissed him deeply, not wanting to lose contact. He groaned, thrusts getting sloppier as you felt yourself reach your own high for the second time.

∞

Your butt was getting sore from sitting on the hard surface of the stairs for hours, but you didn’t care. You watched him hang out with his friends, making them laugh so hard you could hear them from metres away. You held the envelope tight in your shaky hands, suddenly nervous. What if he didn’t like it?

“Hey, _.” The stairs creaked as you looked up, watching Johnny’s figure shrouded by the faded light of dusk. You shuffled over as he sat next to you, resting his arms over his knees. He looked tired, only hints of his sarcastic self shining through here and there. “You here to see the missus?”

“Johnny.” You rolled your eyes, but your stomach churned as you realised his eyes were on the envelope in his hands. You snatched it away to hide under your jacket, but it was obviously too late. “What’s that? Is that for him?”

“Yeah.” You had no idea where this self-consciousness suddenly was coming from. You were so proud of it, even this morning as you were driving here. Johnny was silent, matching you as you both sat, letting the distant sounds of the boys yelling fill the space between you for a few moments. Finally, he spoke.

“He loves you.” You swallowed, suddenly feeling tears well up in your eyes. When was the last time anyone had loved you like that? “So don’t worry. He’ll like it.” He patted your shoulder, and with a few thundering steps, he was gone.

As you stood in front of Jungwoo again, the same nervousness brewing in your stomach, you tried to remember those words.

“What? Who loves me? What guy?” Jungwoo looked confused, genuinely frowning and holding your hands in his. You furrowed your eyebrows, slowly coming out of your thoughts. “What?”

“You just said, ‘he loves you’.”

“Oh, oh…I said that out loud?” You removed one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Look, I, had this entire monologue prepared, but, um, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Why?” He caressed your face, and you heard some ooos and cheers come from the right of you. Jungwoo rolled his eyes. “Lee Donghyuck, if you don’t-“

You watched Haechan give you both over-enthusiastic thumbs up with his hands, and Jungwoo gently guided you off the stage, his hand flush on the small of your back. “Just relax, baby. It’s just me. You’re making me nervous. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that.” You shook your head just as you whipped out the envelope and thrust it sideways. Your heart felt like it was bursting out of your chest, under all the layers you were wearing. You blurted out. “I kissed the pages. I kissed them after putting on the lip balms and glosses and lipsticks I wore when I kissed you and you told me I tasted good. I know! That’s the kind of thing that sounds cute in theory, but absolutely psychotic in real life. And I just-“

Jungwoo shut you up with a kiss, the envelope grazing your side as he held you tight with his other arm. Goosebumps ran up your limbs, despite all your layers. Pulling away, he rubbed his nose against yours, making you break out in a smile, despite how corny it was. “You’re probably thinking about how corny this all is. But I love it. I love this. And I love you.”

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wildbluesorbit · 9 months ago

Text

Wounded III || JTK

18+mdni

paring: jakexreader(f)

LONDON MASTERLIST

A/N: alrighty, here’s the final piece. All your words have made my first fic/series so fun and I can’t wait to give yall more:)) pretty please let me know what you think <3

Summary || You promised Jake an evening out, but you’re not certain if you can make through the night.

Content Warnings || swearing, alcoholic consumption, anger, verbal aggression, adult themes, agoraphobia, haphepobia, graphic sexual depictions

Word Count || 9.5k+

The light knock at your door sends you into a frantic spell before anyone can announce themselves and their business that miserably requires access to you and your sanctuary.

You had been doing your best to go about your routine the past few days and not dwell on the daunting date you assured Jake. You had always given him your ifs and maybes when it came to going out, but this pledged appearance was taxing your every thought.

Routine. Keep your head in routine. Just keep moving. One day at a time and all that compartmentalizing bullshit your therapists always vomit at you yet never proves useful.

The truth being no matter how you avert your attention, the dreaded moment would still come to pass. And alas, it does; arriving in the form of Jake poking his head through the door. You invite the rest of his body to join your room.

With an easy energy, Jake percolates through the doorway dressed in his signature all black deep-v button up and pleated trousers. Paired with his signature chain of doubloons and black loafers. You always find the consistency of his formulaic ensembles to be a comfort.

In the true spirit of procrastination and denial you hadn’t even conceptualized an outfit yet.

Jake instinctively gravitates towards the guitar in the corner of your room and begins to fidget with the strings, busying himself from your bed as he watches you get ready. You think maybe he fears you are going to talk yourself out of the evening or it might not come to pass if he doesn’t witness it with his own eyes.

You frantically scatter for the first outfit you can make out, dressing in a relaxed cream button blouse with mom jeans and platform oxfords. You paint your features with natural make up and throw your curls in two messy braids and lightly accessorize. You emerge back from your bathroom expecting to make out a bored Jake. Instead, you’re greeted by an empty bedroom.

You are sure you hadn’t taken too long to get ready. You simply shrug and stomp to the full body mirror. You appear just fine, yet you definitely do not feel it.

You run your sweaty hands down your jeans as Jake reappears through the door. In his hands, he clutches his navy corduroy jacket he went to retrieve. You are clueless as to what you have done in your life to deserve this man that always anticipates your next need before you do.

Jake streams across the floor towards you and unfolds the coat, lifting it in the air for you to slip your arm through. You face away from the doting man and extend your hand out as he attentively dresses you in his jacket one shoulder at a time, savoring the moment. His aroma emits from the material as you take a deep breath and tug the sleeves over your fingertips.

Glancing back in the mirror you already feel a bit better; that’s what your outfit had been missing.

You return your eyes to Jake, slinking your hands deep into the pockets of the coat as he tugs on the lapel, properly adjusting it over your shoulders; unaware of your shaking till he steadies you with the weight of his hands.

His digits travel to faintly twist the tail of one of your braids between the pads of his fingers as a smile breaks loose at the sight of you.

“You are truly a vision,” Jake’s honey eyes swivel as he indulges in every detail he can canvass, his words adorn you better than any accessory ever could, “Ready?”

You force a weak nod and dreadfully follow his giddy lead from out your bedroom, down the stairs, and towards the front door.

Of course, you freeze where you always do but this time Jake just smiles and swings the entryway wide open, sauntering out to wait for you on the other side of the threshold.

“You’re ready, I can see it,” his lips curl as he beckons you with his giant smile.

You raise an eyebrow at him from the safety of the inside, “How do you know?”

“Because in just these past few days, it's not hard to see you’re outgrowing your fears and soon you’ll become cramped with them in this house,” he offers his palm out to you.

You slip your hand into his and squeeze, clench your eyes shut, and take a deep inhale as you step from the elevated doorstep down to the porch.

You playfully puff your cheeks out to hold your breath and squint open one eye to examine your surroundings.

Jake chuckles, tugging you toward his car, “Oh? So you got jokes now?”

You anticipate the same relapse as the last time you stepped foot out your door. Everything appears the same. The autumn breeze waltzes around you the same. The birds chirp the same. The world is the same shade of fall. The same sun warms you. Yet everything that terrified you about your last excursion seems to spell you ambitious to walk further with Jake now. Maybe Jake is right and he can see something you can’t. Maybe you are ready.

You achieve the top of the driveway as Jake pilots the path to open your door and you load into the vehicle. Like a familiar episode of Deja Vu, you had almost forgotten what Jake’s car looked like: the black interior, the smell of him mixed with car leather, and of course a tricked out stereo. The sight brings you to a nostalgic giggle as you are reminded of an indecent moment or two with Jake in this very car.

The door shuts with a slam and just like that, you are alone with the terrorizing silence while Jake walks around to the driver door. Although he rejoins you within seconds, it's enough time to let panic make its presence known, like it always does.

Jake fidgets in the driver’s seat and asks you the same antsy question for the second time this evening through his restless dorky smirk, “Ready?”

You have run out of no’s for him so you force a tight lipped smile and buckle yourself, nearly flinching at the click of your seatbelt. You tug the sash as tight as possible and just pray you aren’t making a fool of yourself.

Jake pulls into a parking spot and anchors his hand on your bouncing leg. The warm sensation of his limb is what reels you in from your own anxious realm to make contact with appraising eyes. You fold your hands in your lap and manage a smile.

You can’t help the way your breath gets caught on panic, “So, everyone is just in there? Waiting on us?”

“If it's showing up wounded you’re afraid of, don’t be,” his hand seeks the lock of your seatbelt and unfastens the buckle with a click, “You tell them that's just your battle scar, angel. Don’t hide how strong you are.”

You grant Jake a slight nod in agreement. Slowly, you push your car door open and extract yourself from the vehicle one limb at a time, as if you are some fragile thing that can shatter with a single misstep. Regret looms closer and closer as you cross the parking lot and pass everyone’s car one by one, each step dragging you towards the warzone you know awaits inside. You stall as your proximity to the battlefield diminishes.

Taking notice of your dawdling, Jake shifts to tower directly in front of you. The sudden advance pounds throughout your chest and hitches your breath but you refuse to fall back. He presses his forehead to yours and coaches you through a deep breath once your eyes refocus on his caramel brown ones.

“If it gets to be too much you don’t even have to say a word,” he gingerly takes your hands in his and squeezes in a triple pattern, “just like that, and I will immediately take you home. No questions asked. Like it never happened and we can try again when you’re ready.”

You focus on your breathing and mimic the intervals in which he gripped your hands.

“Good girl, just like that,” he praises your raging seas back to stillness and checks in with you for a third and final time, “are you ready?”

You nod your head and inhale as if you could take a drag of the courage he is emitting deep into your lungs. Jake releases your limbs back to you but replaces it with his palm against the small of your back as he leads you through the entrance of the bowling alley.

You soak in the dingy fluorescent lighting and are greeted with the smell of beer, leather, and frying grease. The humble sight is paired with a cacophony of pins clunking together in their gutters as classic country pours over the sounds of cheering and laughter.

Your feet already beg to turn back towards the door.

Jake waves to the group occupying the last two lanes, only they are bowling in the farthest and using the other as a barrier of isolation. Just like Jake said. This seems to cancel out a portion of your initial panic wave.

As you follow in Jake’s bee line around pool and foosball tables you recognize Josh, Danny, and Sam waving you over, along with a few other new faces.

The two of you are serenaded by scattered hellos. His brothers each take their turns to greet you, welcoming you with warm words of how elated they are to have you with them again. Jake strategically takes the opportunity to introduce you himself to the new faces to avoid any awkward interactions and customary physical contact. He turns to you as he announces your name with the most exuberant tooth-bearing smile. The one you first witnessed in that dusty record store on Christmas Eve. The one that spelled you absolutely his by New Years. The same giant smile you now only know to exist within the walls of your bedroom during late night laughs. This is Jake in complete bliss.

The beaming smile fades out as he goes to retrieve shoes for the two of you and is replaced by a flood of new ones belonging to his brothers as they catch up with you.

As your welcome parade dies down, your eyes immediately hunt for Jake seeking comfort, already approaching overstimulation. You see him off to the side of the lane’s designated sitting area, discreetly speaking with Sam. Jake’s hand finds its place on his hip and it occurs to you this exchange is one of hostility. Sam presents some unstable defense, eliciting an eye roll and a scoff from his older brother. Ultimately, you witness Jake give into whatever Sam’s plea might be as he heads back towards you with the shoes.

You timidly prompt Jake to tell you what is bothering him when he resides back to your orbit, sitting next to you on the bench.

“Nothing, Sam did something stupid but it doesn't matter anymore,” he looks down as he unconvincingly dismisses your question.

Wavy tresses that normally frame his face, curtain his features as he lets his head hang.

You lightly tug on one of the dangling coffee-brown strands to bring your favorite honey eyes back to your line of sight and give him a heartening smirk, “But you’ll tell me when it does, right?”

His burdened face breaks back to bliss as he tucks a rogue curl behind your ear, “Yes, of course.”

Jake lets his hand linger and for a second you are revisited by the marvelous familiarity of that time with Jake before Nashville.

The rental shoes hit the floor with a light thud as Jake lets them drop beside you. He relieves you of any obligation to participate knowing that you might not be up for it yet.

Grateful doesn’t even scratch the surface of how Jake is able to read you when you aren’t sure how to articulate yourself. You agree, telling him to check back next round.

After a few cycles of everyone’s turns you notice a peculiar pattern in Jake’s behavior. After every play the bowler would return to the lane, showered by hoots and hollers of praise and glory from your friends. This includes Jake, all except for when it came to the welcome of one person.

A girl. She is tall and lean with a long auburn bob, graced by delicate cartoon features and olive skin. Earlier she introduced herself as Claudia.

Everyone cheered upon her return to the kingdom. But not Jake. He did not shout. He did not clap. He did not smile. If she so much as let her gaze fall in your direction he would clench his jaw and check on you. Everytime single time. Like a tick.

You slide your hand on Jake’s mid thigh and rest your head against his shoulder. You feel him almost spooked by your touch. Other than when he came home earlier this week, you are rarely one to seek ease in his touch. You usually avoid all physical contact but especially are never the one to initiate it. However, Jake leans into you once your intention occurs to him.

You tilt your mouth up towards his ear so only he could hear your notion, “That’s her? Isn’t it?”

The muscle of his jaw protrudes at the very mention and he places his hand over yours, “I didn’t want to cause any commotion to further overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable. More than anything or anyone, I’m just happy you're here.”

You didn’t have a word for the strange sensation that followed being in her presence. Someone you thought you’d never meet. Someone you hoped to never meet. To put a name and face to the horror story of some wicked stranger who heartlessly spun your trauma without remorse between her fingers. Someone who wielded your weaknesses as a weapon to torment Jake. To turn the only man you trust against you without so much as a motive.

You are interrupted by the already buzzed boys asking for requests as they obnoxiously announce they’re headed towards the bar. Just as Jake’s brothers become absent, the girl with the auburn hair lifts herself from the opposite bench to head towards the restrooms, but not before the flashes you a sly smirk and cheekily waves and winks at Jake. She then swiftly disperses into the ladies room.

The grisly sound of Jake’s teeth grinding invades your ears as he shifts in his seat from physically cringing in outrage.

He growls through his clenched jaw, “That’s enough. I’m going to say something to that fucking prick.”

You discourage him, “No, Jake, please. It’s fine. Don’t give her the reaction she so blatantly wants. Seriously.”

“She fucking with us- she’s fucking with you,” he struggles to not to raise his voice and remain still in his seat.

“I know, but my goal is only to get through tonight,” you try to make him understand beyond his momentary red.

“She’s only going to get braver-,” he surveys your face and cuts himself off with an indecipherable flicker, “Fine, but only because you asked.”

He settles back in his seat appearing fine, his only tell being one leg vigorously bouncing up and down.

Jake seems to cool off though once his brothers are right back with beer and distractions. Claudia eventually returns from the restroom and you do your best to ignore her.

You reticently watch the boys bowl from your reserved spectator bench and ardently listen as they delight you with funny stories of what has happened since the last time they caught up with you. Your vigilance actually begins to wane and you feel yourself seeping into a plane of comfort and ease of enjoyment.

That is until you're being dragged back into reality by Claudia calling your name.

She casually accosts you with the loaded question, as if she is addressing the weather, “So I’m told you moved here from London, what brought you to the states?”

Your breath hitches in your throat. She knows exactly where the trigger is. Your shortest fuse to a spiral. You have no idea why Claudia is gunning for you, just that she is doing it well.

You feel Jake’s subtle touch to your knee and place your hand over him and squeeze.

One.

Your cheeks glow red as you burn alive.

“Well- I-,” you squeak out, “just needed a change of scenery.”

Pleased with the results of her game, Claudia continues, “Interesting. Well, tell me, why our little city? What’s Nashville hold for you? Other than your friend, Jake.”

Your hand clenches around Jake’s once more.

Two.

You feel Jake shift in anticipation, waiting for your third and final squeeze; a bull pawing before his charge. If Jake had his way he would have already put Claudia in her place and left. But he knows this night belongs to you and should be your decision, but you freeze.

In an instant, Jake discreetly turns his head to your ear, the decibel of his encouragement is hardly audible in its lull, “I’m so proud of you no matter how this night ends.”

Proud? Jake is proud of you? You had never really stopped to think about how he might perceive you.

In the midst of your storm you never sought past how he made you feel. You assumed he regards you with compassion and patience and loves you despite being this broken mess because that’s how he made you feel.

Never once did it occur to you that when Jake looks at you, it would be with eyes full of pride.

It isn’t until now that you fully realize how he craves you. It is clear he longs for your recovery and happiness and hungers to have you to himself. But you understand now he yearns for the time he had you in his corner. He aches to experience life with you, like the two of you used to. To walk into a room with you by his side and show you off and indulge in your presence. To be your equal. To be your partner. Though he loves to come home to you and regale you with stories of the road, more than anything he wishes to make you smile by recalling a shared memory instead. He misses who he is with you. But he wouldn’t dare confess such a selfish thought amongst your recent fragility.

You remove your hand from Jake’s and strain a cordial smile across your face.

You're terrified to stay but terrified to retreat. You fear if you go home now you might not ever leave again. And that is not an option. More than ever, you’re now miserably aware you can no longer survive without the courage that would dawn at the burning end of this anguishing night, you only need to push through.

You will your words to wield an ostensible confidence you do not possess, “Well actually this is probably my favorite thing to do anywhere, just spend time with loved ones. So why not Nashville?”

Before she can get in another word Josh returns from the lane and Jake curtly alerts Claudia it is her turn.

After that game ends everyone decides on one more for the night. Jake attempts to sit this round out but you insist he play and so he does. Although it does not take much convincing on your end.

He plays his turns briefly, immediately finding his seat next to you every time. He avoids all contact with Claudia and is mindful to keep you stimulated with conversation rather than your surroundings.

He hums, “So, what did you do for a whole week while I was gone, hmm?”

“I went outside for a walk,” you had almost forgotten to tell him, your brain had repressed the memory.

“Oh,” his tone turns up in genuine surprise, “How was that?”

Even though Jake has seen you through so much ugly, you still carry the small failures with a backbreaking shame.

“I ran back inside,” you grimace.

His brows knit together and bites his lip, “Were you alright after?”

You look down at your fidgeting hands in your lap and click your tongue, “That was the night you came home.”

He rests his pointer finger under your chin to raise your eyes back to his, “Well, all that matters is you’re here now. Even if you hadn’t come tonight, you’ve already overcome so much. And I know I’ve said it already but I’m proud of you.”

You don’t even have a chance to process his adulation as Claudia ambushes your bubble from her seat a few feet away.

“Enough chit-chat. You’re up, Zookeeper,” she smugly addresses the man beside you.

And just like that, everything all at once is consumed by swelling flames of a long-repressed scorching temper.

She must think she's so slick. She must think she is so fucking clever. She must assume you wouldn’t understand her reference. That no one would dare tell little frail you of her verbal assailments.

Or maybe she does hope you catch on. Maybe she thinks you’ll run and hide.

To your own surprise she isn’t so lucky.

Without so much as a moment’s sense or contemplation, venom commandeers your tongue and spurts past your lips and any prior inhibitions, “So just how big does the stick up your ass have to be in order for you to be such a raging bitch?”

She, along with everyone else within earshot, surrenders their aghast attention to you. Claudia's face is now painted with a red blaze. It's obvious she did not think you were going to burst from your timid and socially safe box, no one did.

She springs straight up and crosses her arms from her place on the opposing bench, “Excuse me?!”

Though you had been keeping to yourself you had been paying attention to the game. She couldn’t have hit more than 10 pins the whole time you’ve been here.

You reload your gun and fire off another round, “Is that also the reason you can’t bowl or are you just doing that for attention like everything else?”

Her face creases in bewilderment as she jumps to her feet, “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Her attack stance has concerningly no effect on your newly ballsy demeanor. Jake doesn’t say a word but the way he stands to mimic Claudia’s body language speaks volume enough. She relaxes a bit but is still ready to pounce.

“Oh, I apologize,” you feign a pout, “I forgot you probably can’t hear very well with your head so far up your ass. Let me speak up.”

The distant sounds of snorting laughter and Sam choking on his drink as he spits it out reminds you of where you are.

A pang of guilt ceases your fire. You had given Claudia exactly what she wanted, but now it looked as if it was more than she could handle.

Normally, this would indicate victory. The old you would have basked in Claudia’s dumbfounded state. But now for some reason, you aren’t able to stomach making her feel any worse than you already have.

You back down from your reign and feel your face heat a bright red. Jake holds his hand out to gesture you to stand from the bench. As soon as you take it he squeezes three times and pulls you to your feet.

In all the ways you saw tonight ending, you definitely did not predict Jake being the one to call it quits.

He turns on his heels to address his brothers and friends, “Well, it’s getting kind of late so I suppose we should head home,” his shit-eating grin finds Claudia before she can regain any kind of composure, “We’ve had quite a lot of excitement for one night!”

You only have enough time to grab your purse and motion a goodbye to Jake’s brothers before he whisks you away from the wake of madness you had created.

Once in the shelter of Jake’s vehicle he asks if you’re okay. You respond with a disingenuous yes and neither of you whisper a word to each other for the rest of the car ride home.

You speed through your nightly regimen as if the sooner you shut your eyes the sooner the tides of slumber would wash over you and rinse away the day.

Yet you lay restless in your bed. You toss and turn, pleading for sleep to come but you’re convinced your prayers must have gotten lost.

After what feels like hours, you slip out of bed and throw on an oversized shirt and a pair of worn sweats you stole from Jake. You scamper about, not even certain of what you’re searching for until a tangible task to occupy your idle hands presents itself. You never thought you’d be grateful to arrive at a kitchen sink harboring dirty dishes. You fill the sink with hot water and soap and begin to scrub away.

Your laborious act is rewarded by the complete consumption of your thoughts. Your focus is on the cleanliness of the plates only.

That is until you hear the clinking of glass on the bar cart across the kitchen. You don’t even bother to avert yourself from the chore; you know it’s Jake pouring himself a late night drink.

You dare to ask the question first before Jake can pry, “I know why I’m still up, but why are you?”

“Well, I was in bed until someone decided now would be a great time to do the dishes,” you hear the ice in his drink clatter against the glass.

You attempt to scrub quieter but don’t actually stop.

Jake has no regard for subtly as he dives right into what he knows is terrorizing you sleepless, “I thought you handled tonight fine.”

“I wasn’t ready for- I shouldn’t have-” you hesitate for a moment before continuing the dishes rather than your train of thought.

You hear Jake’s tone slightly pick up, “Shouldn’t have what? Shouldn’t have stood up for yourself? Should have let that cunt walk all over you?”

“Jake-”

You can hear his boiling frustrations begin to erupt past his control again, “No- I'm glad you handled yourself that way! She would have just kept bulldozing!”

You pointlessly try to illustrate your crime, “I stooped to her level-“

Yet he has no desire to understand your fault, his hand not responsible for his glass flying through the air to cut you off, “She deserved it!”

You suddenly feel queasy at the night’s recap, almost dropping the dish you are holding from fatigue, “Jacob, were we even in the same room?! I mean, did you see the look on her face? How can I expect understanding for my pain and trauma and then go and make someone else feel like that?”

The kitchen fell into a still silence, the only audible signs of life being the dying suds in the sink and a remorseful huff from Jake. In his rooting for your full recovery, it hadn’t occurred to him that you might not want to return to everything you once were, including your existing flaws.

A crackled feedback of speakers introduces itself to the air, indicating Jake connected his music to the sound system throughout the kitchen. A soft blue melody pours from the stereo, confirming your assumption as you feel him come from behind you.

He nimbly removes the plate from your grip and places it to soak in the soapy sink water. He takes the nearest dish rag in his hand and delicately dries yours off before placing them around his back, leaning in to curl his arms around your afflicted stature.

Wallowing in your fresh wounds, you naturally resist when he begins swaying you back and forth with the rhythm of the music.

His speech abandons all previous conviction it carried seconds earlier as he softly prays, “Come on, I’m sorry I got upset with you, angel. Dance with me please? It’s been so long.”

You loosen your demeanor and sway with Jake, always wanting to grant him yes on the small things you could.

He accepts your movement as his exoneration and continues to candy you with kind words, “You know, I had no clue what I was in for the first time I laid eyes on you. No clue how in over my head I was- No clue I’d get to feel this way about you.”

As he feels you further give into his motions, he places his hand in the dip of your waist to properly waltz you about the kitchen. With his opposite he tucks your stray bedhead hairs behind your ear and gives you a small tight lipped smirk. His smile is one that you have yet to deny so you wrap your arms around his shoulders and follow his feet, fully accepting your fate.

You rest your head to his bare clavicle as a familiar steel guitar resonates throughout your kitchen. The smallest chuckle escapes him as he begins to hum along with the melody.

Why are you still crying?

Your pain is now through

Please, forget those teardrops

Let me take them from you

The love you are blessed with

This world's waiting for

So, let out your heart please, please

From behind that locked door

Still whirling around the kitchen tile to the swaying melody, Jake fully presses against you and rests his chin atop the crown of your head. Left. Right. Right. Left. Just like the first time on that New Year's Eve. Just like he taught you.The recording blends with Jake as he begins to fully sing along with George Harrison.

It's time we start smiling

What else should we do?

With only this short time

I'm gonna be here with you

And the tales you have taught me

From the things that you saw

Makes me want out your heart, please, please

From behind that locked door

You’re not sure if you’re overwhelmed from the evening’s events or maybe it's Jake singing along with former Beatle’s kind words, but something inside you breaks as your face begins to stream warm with tears. You cling to Jake and hide your face in his chest like a scared child. He holds you steady as you quake under his arms.

A sharp sob breaks out of you and into his flesh, “I miss me too, Jake! I want to come home to you more than anything.”

“I know,” his voice is a calm surface, contradicting his heart pounding erratically under your cheek, “but you’re going to be alright. You will heal, I can feel it. All in good time, angel.”

You fight to steady your speech against hiccuping breaths, “I’ve never fought this hard. It’s never been this dark before, Jake! How do you know that I haven’t burnt out and this is what's left of me? How do you know I’m not stuck this way?”

He answers without a moment’s hesitation, as if he had rehearsed his words and held onto them for a thousand years, “Because, angel, I’ve seen so many places and people and there is only one of you. You’re a marigold. An eternal flame. A rey of light bestowed to me by the sun herself. Your’s is not an energy that can be demolished.”

You squeeze your arms around his neck tighter, abolishing any unwelcome space between the two of you.

Jake caresses small soothing circles against the small of your back, “Whenever you’re ready, I love you now and I'm ready to love whoever you are going to be.”

There are those words again. Words you hadn’t spoken to him till you blurted them out in a half-conscious panicked confession. Words he hadn’t dared speak to you since London. But here he is confirming his love for you in the midst of your wounds and extending it to the woman you would be after they healed.

Swept in your own existential whirlwind, your fingertips mindlessly explore the warmth of his exposed skin as you tilt your head up and close in to his face to appreciate his delicate features there. He realizes you are searching for his lips before you do. Jake lowers his head to help you achieve your hunt, brushing the tip of his nose over the peak of your top lip and across your wet cheek until his warm breath hovers over yours. You swear hours must pass when you finally feel his lips press into yours but not in a kiss, more like he is relearning your mouth, trying to recall your taste before savoring it. Taking the time to survive on the same air, waiting for you to give in.

Heedlessly, you rush against him, lips plush as you remember. As if you are magnetic, Jake’s starving hands fly to cradle your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks and swiping the rolling tears away.

Your appetite swells quickly and you push your weight into Jake until he slowly backs into the nearest kitchen countertop, eliciting a hum that tickles your lips. You stretch on your tiptoes to better reach his hungry mouth. He immediately wraps his hands into the curve of your waist and shifts to lift you on the counter. Jake’s lips never leave yours as he plops you down on the espresso wooden slab.

His tongue graces your lips and you promptly grant him access. He impatiently laps into your mouth as his touch further constricts around your midriff. You feel his starved fingers fighting not to venture across your skin.

Finally, all at once Jake reignites your desire. Like someone turned on the light in a dark room you had been stuck in. Suddenly, you remember where you are and what you had been doing in that room, like you picked up exactly where you left off.

Jake has been your only shelter in this storm. He has put you back together so many times now and remained patient every step of the way. He took care of you in London when he could have looked the other way and nobody, including yourself, would have known. He hauled you away from the monsters Europe held for you. He’s been your only friend and liberation when you couldn’t even escape the very walls of your bedroom. If your malaise hadn’t warded him off yet nothing would.

You finally recognize Jake isn’t leaving. He always says it, but it seemed like this abstract concept, but he is here in front of you still voracious for more even after all he has witnessed.

His devotion is now this tangible thing.

You can see it in the way he looks at you and fights for you. You feel it in the way his fingers grace your skin and hands grab at you. Hear it in the way he sings your name and groans in restraint to devour you. Taste it on his bourbon and peach velvet tongue. Jake is not going anywhere and he’s not going to hurt you.

You depart from his lips to catch your breath and contemplate if this is solid ground or a passive breeze. You retrieve his hand from where it is clasped around your waist, calloused, heavy, extending much longer and thicker than your own digits. You run your fingertips over his knuckles studying the lines there, fidgeting because you’re uncertain how to articulate the arrival of your long awaited craving.

Jake's eyes grow wide, terrified he's done something wrong, “I’m sorry! I don’t-”

“Jake, I want you,” you can’t even stand to hear him finish.

His breath hitches at your words, “No, it's alright. You don’t have anything to prove to me. Tonight has been more than enough.”

It has been months since the two of you have touched each other. He was more than satisfied to just be near you and he did not want to lose or confuse or overwhelm you.

You wrap the material of his shirt around your fingers and tug him in close once more, not even letting the sting of his rejection sink in, “Jake I need to feel you again.”

Still gripping the half open button down, you commandeer his exposed neck to your reckless mouth. He growls a, “Fuck,” into the open air as you begin to kiss, lap, nibble and suck his salty skin.

He groans as you mark his collarbone, “Are you sure, Angel?”

You whisper your third consent into his ear and without a beat missed Jake whisks you off the counter. Your feet barely meet the tile before he's grabbing your hand and ushering you out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the frigid dark hall till you reach his bedroom door.

He twists the knob and the hinges groan as he pushes the entrance open for you. You take your time entering his room, your fuzzy socks slipping and sliding on the hardwood floor over to his bed. You sit, sinking into the soft mattress and place your hands in your lap as he turns on his salt lamp, illuminating the room in a coat of warm light.

Your favorite smile grows wild on his face at the sight of you waiting for him on his bed. The elated man hurries over and presses a quick kiss to you before he places his hands on the tops of your thighs.

He levels himself with your line of sight, his every word carrying what seems to be the weight of the world, “You’re in control here. You say the word and it is my command.”

You whisper a rushed yes and he pulls you back to your feet, gripping your hips. He once again envelopes your lips in his, but this time it is sweet and slow. There is no haste, no power dynamic, only the two of you basking in the warm essence of the other.

He swings your hips closer to him and you feel his hard bulge press into your stomach. Jake's fingers scatter for the hem of your shirt. Hips not daring to leave you, his torso repels in order to slip your top off, exposing your goosebump ridden skin and breasts to his soft eyes and brisk air of the room.

You in turn, undo the few done up buttons of his shirt. You lean into him to slip the sleeves off his shoulders, your lips catching along the muscle of his jaw as you undress him.

His hands travel down your sides and slip under the waistband of your sweats, his warmth buzzing across your cool skin. He traces the curve of your hips under the fleece material and migrates to grab your ass until your feet have left the hardwood floor and locked around his back.

At this new angle he laps one of your erect nipples into his velvet mouth with ease and your whimper floats into the room. He groans with a mouth full of your tit as your hands slip into his tousled hair and tug, the vibrations rippling through you and straight to your core as he hums against your pebbled breasts.

He staggers, carrying you till he reaches his bed and leans to lay you down on your back. Jake casts his face over your pelvis and begins to slowly tug down your sweats, pressing his mouth to every newly unenveloped inch of your skin as it peeks out from behind the material being pulled down further and further. Jake’s open mouth kisses trail your hips, thighs, and down to your ankles, tossing the pants somewhere on the floor near his closet after he’s fully removed your pajamas.

He brings his knees up to the mattress and props himself over you, crawling till his mouth is hovering over yours again. He looks down between your bodies as he drags his faint touch below your naval, over your mound, and slips through your folds to feather your clit.

He swallows your moan as you are reintroduced to his kiss. You struggle to stay still as his loving fingers press into your labia till he finds your entrance. You swear you are far more sensitive since the last time he touched you, almost as if this is the first time he’s had you.

He pulls away from your mouth to gingerly check in with you, “This is okay, babygirl?”

“Fuck- more than okay,” you breathlessly whimper against his pink pout.

At your reassurance he inserts a long finger inside you, relishing in the way you squirm underneath him.

“Please- Jake, more,” you’re already begging.

Without any hesitation he inserts his middle fingers and watches as he starts pumping his digits in and out of you, glistening in your slick.

He begins a beeline of open-mouth kisses down the valley of your breasts and past your belly button. He reaches your slit and slightly parts them to suck your clit into his mouth, swirling his warm plush tongue around the swollen bud.

He returns his fingers, this time curling them up inside you, causing your hips to buck towards his face. The lewd sounds of Jake lapping your clit and fucking you with his fingers fills your head. He moans into you as you writhe in his hard-working mouth.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer,” you desperately command, “Jake, I- fuck, baby- I need you.”

“Just be patient, angel, let me take care you,” he croons against your bundle of nerves, “I’ve- I’ve waited so long for you.”

Jake continues drilling into you, his thick fingers pumping inside you and velvet tongue fluttering against your clit. All at once, your climax sneaks up on you, a drive by of ecstasy, sweeter than you could ever remember or commit to memory. Your legs cut off Jake’s air supplying, squeezing around him till you tremble and you cum right into his mouth without so much as a warning.

But he refuses to cease his oral attack on you. Instead, he continues to consume you at a painfully dizzy pace. You hardly register the symphony of your own whimpers and slurping of Jake sloppily eating you out.

“Fuck! Ja- I- Please, Jake, I need to feel you inside me,” you restively whine through your overstimulation.

Like you’ve casted a spell on Jake, his mouth and fingers part from you without another word. Though the dark of his eyes and furrow of his brows tell you a story of struggle; if Jake had his way, his head would still be lost between your shaking thighs.

He steps to the floor to shimmy out of his pants and boxers to free the pretty pink cock you are desperate for. You watch his hard length bob about as he hops right back on the mattress.

He wraps his hands around your ankles and pushes them in toward you to bend your knees upward. Jake admiringly watches his own hands run along your shins and up your thighs until he stops and squeezes at the thick of them. He spreads your legs open to gain access to your inner thigh and presses more kisses and nibbles there.

When his lips reach your folds Jake laps his tongue though for one last taste before he pulls away to gravitate his core closer to your dripping center. His consuming touch leaves you to grab his cock, collecting the gloss at his tip to pump his hand over himself a few times before pressing his painfully pink head to your lips.

You gasp in pure anticipation and whimper when Jake flicks his throbbing tip over your swollen clit. Lining himself up to your entrance, he looks back to you one last time for your consent.

He rests his arms down beside you to anchor himself in your atmosphere and rasps in your ear, “Ready, angel?”

“I’ve never wanted this more, Jake,” you pant out against his neck.

At your cue, he thrusts his hips into you and hisses in your ear. Your drawn out moan sounds through the room as your cunt welcomingly stretches for Jake.

He looks at you with curious eyes, concerned if you’re still comfortable.

You run a gentle finger along his hairline before brushing the rest through his chestnut waves and nod, “I’m okay, baby, you can move.”

You see relief flash on his face but it is quickly replaced by something else when he plunges deep inside you to the hilt. Jake begins to pump himself in and out of you at a deliciously slow rhythm.

This is so different from anything you’ve ever done with him. Fooling around with Jake had always been some thrilling primitive game. And while this moment is still animalistic, it is also raw and real and sweet and tender. The two of you taking care of each other. The two of you a union.

You are consumed by Jake; he is the only thing you can see, feel, taste, smell, and hear. You can’t recall a moment before him or see a thing beyond. Everything belongs to him. At this moment Jake could do no wrong.

He speeds his pace up and laps a stripe across your neck, “Oh fuck- I missed you, pretty girl.”

The only words you could find were babbled moans.

Praises absent of any satire or malice, he coos, “Oh, someone likes being called pretty? Well good because you are. You’re the prettiest girl.”

Without any real ideation, the desire blurts out of you, “Jake- Fuck- want to be your pretty girl, Jake!”

Both of you caught off guard by the demand, he pulls away from his work on your ear and his hips stall in divided attention. Jake blinks at you wide-eyed, waiting for some redirection of blood flow back to his brain to process your words. You swallow down your mournful whine that follows the loss of momentum, knowing you brought it on.

You are summoned back to coherency by the rasping of your name as he blesses your face with kisses, “You want to be my pretty little thing? Want me to make you all mine?”

Fully wrapping his mind around the concept, his strokes return harder and faster. That familiar sweltering pressure you’ve missed begins to burn in your pelvis, rolling your eyes back.

A stuttered moan is all you can manage, “Yes- Please, Jake!”

Jake brings his hand to cup your chin, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip and slows his hips yet again to bring you back to earth, “I need to hear you say it, angel.”

You open your eyes to meet his dark chocolate irises and focus all your energy into gathering your words, “Yes, Jake. I’m yours and I want you to be all mine.”

You are graced with the sight of that giant smile of his, of which he presses to your lips and attempts to kiss you through his teeth baring elation.

He then swings his hips back to a mind numbing pace.

He can’t help the audible smirk in his demands, “Good girl. Now, will my baby cum for me?”

Your only acknowledgement to his request is a broken stream of moans, whimpers, and muttered swears as he swivels his hips, hitting the spot only he ever manages to find.

You are rendered to a puddle of incoherent begging, “Please, Ja- Baby- Fuck- I love you, Jacob, don’t stop!”

You feel your second climax begging to burn through you like a good smoke. With every swing of Jake’s hips, you inhale his saccharine nicotine deep into your lungs and puff him out, only to drag him in again. A sweet slowburn of ashes till you turn out.

Jake begins to thrust inside you even faster and reaches a hand down to rub your clit. You’re lifted by his gravity, arching your back as your pussy begins to contort around him.

“Fuck- do that again, babe,” he hisses in ecstasy, “squeeze me and tell me that you love me when you cum. Please?”

His begging is enough to set off your release. You try your best to look at him but your eyes roll back as the tension in your stomach bursts in a white heat. You feel that electric buzz in your chest ripple throughout you. Your only tether to reality is fulfilling Jake’s sweet need.

You squeeze your walls around Jake as tight as you can, sinking him even further inside you as your rasped confession breaks against involuntary moans and squeals, “Fuck- Ja- I love you so much- Jake! I didn’t even know- it was possible to- to be so consumed by one person. I love- I love you, Jacob!”

He fights to remain composed, coaching you down from your high as he approaches his, “Easy, princess, I’ve got- I got you. I’ve missed you so bad, baby, please let me have it.”

Your senses become bombarded by overstimulation as you finish on his twitching cock inside you but remain attentive to help Jake finish. You know he is close when his hips begin to sputter.

You buck your hips upwards to finish his motions and clench around him one last time as you feel his cock jerking inside you. Jake’s eyes flutter shut and his head drops to your shoulder as slack jaw mutters your name like a swear. Jake slips a hand under your head to cradle you closer as he fights though his final stokes.

You take the opportunity to start sucking and kissing encouragement against his neck, “Come on, baby boy. You’re so good to me. I want all of you, Jake. Want to feel full of you. Want to love you.”

Your serenade shoves him over the edge and his bruising grip sears into your hip bone as he lets go. With a blissed out grunt of your name, you feel his release coat your walls and fill you.

He collapses on to you, his weight sinking you further into the soft mattress. You wish to exist in this amber lit moment forever, convinced the weight of Jake’s head and rhythm of him catching his breath against your shoulder is the safest shelter you’d ever find.

You wrap your arms around Jake to rub his glossy back, still heaving in recovery. He hums underneath your jaw and begins to lazily kiss the muscle there. The two of you seem to exist in your own plane before Jake breaks the silence, telling you to stay put while runs to fetch you a warm rag.

Upon his arrival you grab the cloth from Jake, his eyes devouring the scandalous scene you are cleaning him from your dripping thighs. You catch his ravenous stare and fold the rag to the opposite side. You earn a beaming smile and bashful giggle from Jake as you begin to gently swipe away at the beads of sweat that decorate his glistening face.

He nuzzles into your touch, allowing you for once to care for him. But as you clean him, Jake catches your hand in his to cease your movements. You witness a short scene of grief and guilt play across the very features you were just nursing.

“Was it- not-,” you can’t string your sentence together to bare the thought of Jake regretting his actions.

“No- No- That was- I’m so glad we- Its just- It reminded me of the last-,” he scrambles for his words as a few thoughts try to make their way all at once.

You squeeze his hand still in yours and tend to his uncertainty with a smile of reassurance, “Jake?”

He reflects your gesture, taking a deep breath before putting his concern to words this time, "I never apologized for the way I treated you."

Out of all the things you expected Jake to confess in this moment, an apology is certainly not one, "What the hell are you talking about, Jacob? You have nothing to apologize for. You've been nothing but good to me."

He shakes his head with a slight chuckle, indicating you misunderstood, "No- I meant before your move to Nashville. I was just- I was cruel to you and I'm so sorry for what happened between us."

It seems like lifetimes ago, you almost want to giggle at Jake’s amends, having already made up for it in more than a million ways, "Well, trust me, you have more than made up for it. And we are finding our way back now."

Jake pulls you into him for another kiss as he presses a small chuckle and that pretty smile into your lips before scooping you off the bed and into his arms. You devoutly wrap your limbs around Jake to stabilize yourself as he playfully peppers your skin with quick pecks and carries you to the bath he had already started running.

He slowly lets you down to the floor and checks the temperature of the water. Once he is satisfied, he ties up his hair while stepping into the tub. Jake sits and settles his back against the wall before extending his hand up to guide you in. You utilize Jake for balance as your feet dip into the steaming water. You twist away from your guide as the rest of you sinks into the warm bath, replicating his movements.

Jake’s arm grips the lip of the tub as an anchor when the other wraps around your waist as he tugs you into him, your back flush against his chest. You let your head fall against his shoulder to find his lips yet again. A blissed out sigh slips from Jake and tickles your cheek.

Your call comes out smaller than you intend, “Jake?”

His only acknowledgement is a vague hum as he tucks his face away in your neck.

You timidly purpose, “No more games, right?”

You only receive another fatigued hum in agreement, “Of course. No more games.”

You proceed to pry for an answer he's already given in ten thousand different tongues, “Be honest with me? You meant what you said? Or was it the high of the moment?”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re referring to but you should know I have a girlfriend now,” he giggles at himself into your skin, having not removed himself from your neck.

You roll your eyes at Jake. You know he is merely teasing you but you do not have the courage to ask twice.

Jake pries himself from you to grab the tan bar soap and lather it in his vast calloused hands. The smell of vanilla and patchouli shamefully teleports you back to days he had to help you bathe.

He runs the suds down your arms and speaks softly against the shell of your ear, “I meant every syllable.”

Jake rakes his fingers against the skin of your forearms before he places his stretched out hand below your open palms, your limbs posing so helpless and dainty in comparison to his.

He studies the size difference before interlocking your fingers and bringing them to his lips, “This is all I’ve ever wanted. And now it's finally mine.”

Jake places your hands back in your lap to retrieve more soap.

He lathers the suds around your torso and slightly presses his finger into the meat of your stomach, “This is mine.”

You giggle and he continues, the goofy smile plastered on his face audible in his tone.

Jake wraps his digits, finger by finger around your waist, “And this is mine.”

He spreads the suds up across your breast, massaging them and running his knuckles along your nipples as he lightly teases, “I’m very pleased to say these are now mine.”

With his fingertip, he blazes a trail along your clavicle, his lips following the route as he adds, “and this.”

With his hands still on your shoulder he lightly guides your weight forward to gain access to your back. He sweeps your half drenched raven locks above your head and grabs a tie from the tub caddy to place your hair up. His digits meet your shoulder blade and flutter down your back in lawless streaks.

You know he is tracing exactly where your scars are. The scars you’d hardly seen, avoiding them in the mirror at all costs, but you know exactly where the tissue lies.

Jake feels you cringe underneath his touch but doesn’t let you squirm from his reach.

He places his pink lips to the discolored welts there, kissing blessings and vows to your scarred flesh, “And this- I want all of this too.”

His mouth continues up your neck, biting and lapping until he reaches your jaw. Jake places his fingertips on your chin and tilts your head towards a full body mirror across from the tub, directing your vision to your reflection.

“And this stunningly gorgeous face, the one I see everytime I close my eyes,” he punctuates every word with a kiss to your eyelashes, the tip of your nose, and cheeks, “All you see is mine."

He finally reunites with your lips, “And I am irrevocably and absolutely yours. You are all I’ve ever wanted. I am so in love with you, baby.”

thank you so much for reading, pretty please let me know what you think🫶🏼

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autumnshighlady · 11 months ago

Text

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 18)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: it's time to meet Beron

warnings: Night Court slander, anti Rhysand, MENTIONS OF R*PE/SA, BRIEF SA IMPLICATIONS (nothing graphic but it's still icky)

word count: 5.9k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: things are picking up again! more plottwists and turns hehe, i hope you enjoy this chapter!

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 /

read on ao3

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Your wrists were sweating beneath the cuffs that adorned your wrists. Every inch of your body trembled, remembering the last time you had been chained up. It was necessary, you reminded yourself. Beron had to see you as a prisoner, as much as you hated that role you needed to look the part.

The servants had put you in a tattered gown and covered your skin in smears of dirt and grime. You looked very convincing, almost too convincing. Every time you glanced down at yourself, that cold, familiar feeling washed over you - the one that made your heart stop beating for a split second and left you wondering if you were back in Rhysand’s dungeons. The servants’ eyes were sympathetic as they tied the gag around your mouth as gently as possible, quietly offering you words of comfort through your tears.

Nesta and Eris were already in the throne room with Beron. They had been in there for a few minutes, but it had felt like hours. Two of Eris’ personal guards stood on either side of you - Saeros and Ivar were their names, they had politely informed you. You wondered how many other people in the Autumn Court were secretly loyal to Eris rather than their current High Lord. At the very least, it gave you confidence that Eris’s succession would go smoothly.

Saeros, a tall male with long brown hair and a stern face gently squeezed your arm. It's time, he seemed to say. You nodded subtly, understanding. After a deep breath, you began thrashing wildly in their grip just as the heavy doors to the throne room swung open. You kicked and rocked back and forth, screaming through the gag. The guards held you firm, dragging you across the ground towards the throne. You dared not sneak a glance to the right side of the bottom steps, knowing Nesta and Eris stood there. You focused on your performance, putting up a hell of a fight. Eventually, you ended up on your knees right before the bottom of the throne stairs. You forced your eyes upwards and were met with the sneering face of Beron Vanserra.

His slender face was twisted in a mix of disgust and glee. Ageing brown hair was too slicked back, reminding you of a snakeskin. His eyes were so dark brown they were basically black - bottomless dark voids of hatred that knew new bounds. A golden crown sat upon his head, a bright red jewel in the centre of it. Bony fingers gripped the sides of his throne, knuckles white. He was sizing you up like you were his next meal, and you tried not to squirm underneath his gaze.

“Consider this your Autumn Equinox gift from me, father.” Eris’s smug voice filled the room as the guards removed your gag. “One of Rhysand’s spies, (Y/N), was found at the border. She claims she’s fleeing from him, and is seeking sanctuary.”

Beron’s eyes gleamed even more. “Is that true?”

You gulped, forcing yourself to shake slightly in fear. “Yes, my Lord.”

“And why would you be running away from your master?” The male sneered. “I don’t believe it for a second, girl. For all we know, he sent you here to spy on us.”

“He did not.” You let the tears you had summoned fall down along your cheeks. “I swear by the Mother, my Lord.”

Beron rolled his eyes and huffed. He turned to Eris as if you were no longer there. “Why did you even bother bringing her here, boy?” He growled at his son. “This is not my problem. Send her back to Rhysand, or just kill her and be done with it. I couldn’t care less.”

“I have intel.” You blurted out, remembering the angle Eris had told you to play. “Valuable intel that could change everything. I will tell you everything I know if you give me sanctuary. Please, my Lord, I beg you.”

Something in Beron’s gaze shifted, as he seemingly contemplated the weight of your words. He paused for a moment before speaking. “You’re not from the Night Court originally, are you?” You opened your mouth to speak, but the High Lord cut you off before you could form any words. “I’ve been around long enough to tell which court someone belongs to, girl. The Night Court stench that clings to you is not very strong, so you clearly haven’t been there long. You stink of flowers, so I assume it is the Spring Court you originate from?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Your eyes burned into the floor, and it took all your willpower not to glance at Eris and Nesta. They were so close, yet so far away.

“And how does a girl from the Spring Court end up as one of Rhysand’s spies, only to flee from him less than a year into the job?”

“My father was one of Tamlin’s closest advisors. When Hybern came, I was the only one of my family to survive. My entire village was gone, so I wandered until one of Rhysand’s spies found me.” You decided to leave out that it was Lucien who found you. “They took me in and kept me prisoner, my only way to have a chance at living a life was to spy for them in return for my life being saved. I trained under the Spymaster, and was sent on several small missions to Spring. I hated it, and wanted out. But one day I overheard something…” You shook your shoulders, letting your voice trail off.

“Go on.” Beron snapped with little patience.

“Apologies, my Lord.” You continued. You could feel Nesta and Eris’s gazes burning into you as you put on a performance. “The Spymaster and Rhysand spoke of a weapon, a Made weapon. One that the High Lord could use to claim the title of High King and take over all of Prythian.”

Beron’s face went red with anger, and you resisted the urge to chuckle. His hands gripped the throne so tightly you were surprised it didn’t shatter.

“Father, if Rhysand intends to seize that title–” Eris spoke up but was cut off.

“I’d sooner spend a thousand years being tortured in Hel before I kneel to that half-breed scum!” Spit was practically flying out of the High Lord’s mouth as he yelled, outraged. “I will slaughter him and his entire court before I let him take my own!”

You finally caught a glimpse of Eris as he left Nesta’s side and walked up the steps to his father. You willed your cheeks not to flush as you caught sight of him. His deep red tunic was clinging to his frame, a pattern suited for none other than royalty. His hair was pulled back in a simple braid, with a few loose jaw-length strands framing his face. Eris whispered something in his father’s ear, but he was so quiet even your fae hearing could not make out his words. Whatever he said worked, as he retreated back to Nesta’s side and Beron began to calm down. His face returned to its normal ashy colour as he settled back into his throne.

“Now, why would Rhysand becoming High King make you run away?” Beron asked, all too calmly. “Surely you’d benefit from it, being a member of his court after all.”

“Because when he found out I knew, he imprisoned and tortured me.” You didn’t have to fake the tremor in your voice this time as you recalled the cold dungeon.

“And yet you got out.”

“They let me out to complete a mission, and I used it as an opportunity to run.”

Beron’s eyes narrowed, and fear churned in your gut. If he did not believe you, then this was all for nothing. You silently pleaded for help, yet you weren’t even sure to whom. All you could think of was keeping your racing heart from exploding out of your chest.

“She’s telling the truth, father.” Eris piped up, as if he had heard your pleas.

“And how do you know that?” The High Lord’s voice was dry and bored, which worried you even more.

“I noticed fresh wounds on her back when I found her.”

“Show me.”

At Beron’s command, Eris stepped towards you. You met his amber gaze, which was stone cold. It lacked the warmth that had been present a few hours ago in the dining room. This was the mask that Eris had worn for centuries. You had never quite gotten used to it, to how easily he slipped in and out of his guise.

Eris nodded at the guards, who turned you around so your back was facing the throne. Before you could register what was happening, the prince’s slender hands gripped the neckline of your dress from behind and pulled. A loud ripping sound echoed throughout the room as Eris pulled your dress in half, exposing your wounded back. Shame rushed through your veins as you felt the cold air on your backside, which was clearly on display to the High Lord now.

You whimpered, not entirely for show as embarrassment flooded your cheeks. Beron stared at you for what you thought was too long before the guards turned you back to face him. “He did a number on you, girl.” Beron chuckled humourlessly. You could tell by his tone that he almost admired the bloody artwork on your back. Beron Vanserra was no stranger to amusement from torture - that you knew.

“My Lord,” Nesta’s voice spoke up like music to your ears. “You called me in here to display my powers, did you not? May I suggest we get on with it?”

You tensed at Nesta’s brazen challenge. It was stupid to speak to the male in such a tone in his own throne room, and you half expected him to simply scoff and smite Nesta to ash right there and then. But instead, Beron simply huffed. “Very well. Impress me, Nesta Archeron, and I shall allow you to marry my eldest son. If not…”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence for it to be understood that it was a threat. For the first time, you glanced at Nesta. Her hair was neatly braided as usual, and she wore a dark red gown bearing the same pattern as Eris’s tunic. It had a high neckline and long sleeves, a thousand times more modest than anything in the Night Court. Yet it suited her, and brought about an elegance that enhanced her beauty even more.

Nesta only nodded, and the guards hauled you off to the side. Nesta took your place at the bottom of the throne, smoothing her skirts. For a second, her gaze fluttered to Eris, who gave her a reassuring nod. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. When she opened them again they glowed silver, and you noticed Beron sitting forward in his seat. Silver flames began to whorl around her fingertips, dancing like leaves in the wind as they scattered throughout the room.

Nesta’s entire body began to glow as more and more fire poured out of her. You glanced at Beron again, seeing panic in his eyes as the flames rushed towards him. They leapt over him like a wave, and it was only a few seconds before you felt another wall of silver fire headed towards you and your guards. Yet you did not feel any fear, only a deep sense of trust that whatever happened, Nesta’s flames wouldn’t hurt you. They cocooned around you, trapping you inside them but never touching you. Through the flickers, you could just make out the same thing happening to Eris, Beron, and everyone else in the room. Nesta had bathed the entire room in her silver fire, yet did not harm a soul. It was to exemplify control, to show Beron that she could manipulate the magic to do whatever she, or Beron, wanted.

The noise of the flames was not a harsh, crackling noise like most fires. It was soothing, like the tide of the ocean or the rush of wind on a summer’s eve. The flames danced and sang to you, a force so strong you could practically hear words emitting from them in an ancient tongue.

After a few moments, the flames retreated to Nesta’s side. Like a tsunami, they pulled in behind her glowing figure and arched over fifteen feet in the air. Everyone’s mouth was agape as the flames moulded and shaped themselves into a dragon’s head identical to Athariel’s. Nesta remained glowing at the base of the dragon’s neck, its head arching above her like a protective dog. She was completely and utterly still, as if her mind was both present and relieving the memories of an ancient god from a millenia ago at the same time.

You swallowed thickly, emotion overcoming you. Months ago, Nesta had been too afraid to summon even a flame. Now, here she was, shaping her fire into majestic serpents with full control over them. You were proud, but couldn’t help the pang in your chest. Nesta had faced so many challenges while you were stuck in a cell, unable to witness her growth. It was time you could never get back.

Without struggling, the silver flames retreated, fading into Nesta’s fingertips as they went out. When she opened her eyes again, they were their normal shade of grey. You looked around, expecting to see a room scorched. But there was no damage - the flames did not burn anything.

The room is utterly silent for a few minutes, Beron’s expression unreadable. Even Eris was shuffling on his feet, nervousness apparent. Finally, the High Lord spoke. “Consider me impressed, Nesta Archeron.” His voice was suspiciously kind, and both you and Eris blinked in surprise at the same time. “And consider yourself having my blessing for this marriage with my son.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Nesta said, bowing her head.

“Wonderful.” Beron clapped his hands together. “We shall have the wedding in two months' time, and (Y/N)’s wedding the month after.”

Every bone in your body froze. “What?” Was all you managed to stutter through your dry throat.

Beron smiled, an unsettling gesture. “I accept your request for sanctuary in exchange for information, as the intel you provided is crucial in the survival of my court.” He said smoothly. “Yet you seem to have a habit of bouncing between courts, so I will assure that you remain here where I can keep an eye on you. You shall be marrying Melgorm, my second youngest son. You are from a respectable family, are you not? You should be honoured at the chance to marry someone from a royal bloodline.”

You glanced over at Eris, whose mask had fallen entirely. His face was one of pure horror, panic settling over his amber eyes. You weren’t sure if you were still breathing, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. You had heard stories of Eris and Lucien’s brothers, none of them good.

“Have chambers prepared for the lady.” Beron ordered the guards. “You will all be staying here as wedding preparations are made. This meeting is over. Congratulations to the happy couples.” The High Lord’s smile was one of pure evil and gloating as he drank in your distress.

You felt numb as the guards dragged you to your new chambers, locking the door behind you as you entered the room.

*********************

Over the next half hour, you scrubbed the dirt off your skin in the bath and changed into a soft, gold nightgown. You had hardly felt the scalding water, nor the harsh scrapes of the brush as you tried to scrub away the memories of that entire interaction. Every time you thought about Beron’s smiling face as he announced he was marrying you off, you felt ill.

You had not been naive growing up – you knew most marriages between noble High Fae families were arranged and as a result, often loveless at best. But you remembered the haunting fear in Lucien's eyes as he cried to you over the cruel things his brothers had done. You had accepted long ago that you would likely not marry for love, but this… this would be worse than a loveless marriage. It would be a whole new kind of torture.

As you sat lifelessly on the bed, a sharp gust of air swirled behind you, causing you to spin around. You yelped in surprise as you were met with Nesta and Eris. “Dammit, don't do that,” You hissed. “You made me jump out of my skin!”

You expected a witty comeback from Eris, but none came. His face was grave, and Nesta’s was filled with rage. They were both still dressed in their attire from the meeting. “I’m so sorry.” Eris blurted out. “I had no idea he would do that. I swear by it.”

“I believe–” You tried to speak but Eris continued rambling.

“If I had known he was going to do that I would have never–”

“Eris!” You practically yelled. “I believe you. It’s not your fault.”

The prince’s eyes were glassy as he walked around the bed and kneeled in front of you. He took your hands in his own and pressed his forehead against them. “Forgive me.” He muttered.

“Eris,” You said softly. “It’s ok.”

Amber eyes gazed up at you, even as his hands still tightly clung on to your own. He did not rise from his kneeling position. “No, it’s not.” He said. “You don’t know Malgorm. He is the worst of all my brothers. He makes my father look like a bunny rabbit.”

You felt the bed dip behind you and a familiar hand rubbed your shoulder. Nesta’s presence steadied you as she sat behind you, the warmth of her hand easing the shock from your body.

“Malgorm does not view females as people, but rather toys for his own personal amusement.” Eris continued. “None of his lovers have been his on their own free will. He does not hesitate to inflict pain on them, humiliate them, force himself…”

“Eris…” Nesta warned, her hand squeezing your shoulder even tighter.

“My point is, my father knows exactly damn well exactly what kind of monster his second youngest son is. I strongly suspect he wants to marry you to him because he hopes that he’ll kill you or just lock you away somewhere. That way he won’t have to worry about you becoming a problem.”

“So how do we stop it?” Nesta asked, her voice sharp like razors.

“We can’t.” Eris sighed, resting his chin on your knee. “Not while Beron is alive.”

“So then we kill him.” Nesta argued defiantly.

“If it was that simple don’t you think I’d have done it already? No, it takes planning. And time. Time to ensure that when I overthrow him, we for one, have a cover story; and two, have enough people on my side that there won’t instantly be a coup.”

You gently untangled one of your hands from his and then combed your fingers through his silky hair. “It’ll be ok.” You reassured him as you stroked the locks. “Plans change all the time. We just have to adapt.”

Eris sighed, closing his eyes and ever so slightly leaning into your touch. Nesta leaned forward gently and rested her head on your shoulder, sighing deeply. “This is bad.” She muttered. “This is really, really bad.”

“Yes,” You said firmly, heart fluttering at her and Eris’s closeness to you. “But we can’t change the past, so now we just have to figure out how to move forward. Eris, how much power is needed to take down a High Lord?”

“A lot.” The Prince mumbled.

“No shit.” You snorted. “Between the three of us, do you think we have enough?”

“Two of us.” Eris corrected. “You’re taking no part in this.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You haven’t trained your powers,” He said firmly. “It’s too risky to have you anywhere near this when it goes down.”

You scoffed, furious. “So I’m just supposed to stand by while you two risk your lives killing a High Lord? No, not gonna happen.”

“Dammit, (Y/N)!” Nesta snapped, silencing the room. “We just got you back. We’re not losing you again.”

You went quiet, tears welling in your eyes. You hated feeling useless, shackled down by your inability to be like everyone else. But deep down you knew they were right. Frankly, you weren’t even sure what you could do with your powers, let alone how to wield them. All you’d done is accidentally explode a mountain cave, and you didn’t even know what you were doing.

The Archeron sister inhaled deeply. “Eris and I will take care of Beron, end of story. Now, when we were still in the House of Wind, you said you had more planned for the Night Court.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Although frankly the rest of it was just vague ideas, I wasn’t even sure we’d make it this far to be honest.”

“Ye of little faith.” Eris chuckled, patting your hand. “So, little fox, what else is in this master revenge plan of yours? Was burning down the Inner Circle’s houses not enough?”

“No.” Your voice was firm. “That was just the beginning. I want to make sure their entire court knows how horrible they are. I want them to lose all their power.”

“And how do you plan on that?” The male beneath you asked, still resting his head in your hand.

You took a deep breath. You hadn’t uttered a word of this part of your plan to anyone, even Nesta. It had always seemed too big, too far away to be realistic. But it was here. You’d made it this far. “The women in the Night Court who don’t live in Velaris have suffered for too long.” You began. “I want to help them, to show them that just because their High Lord doesn’t care about them doesn’t mean others don’t. When Beron is overthrown, I need things in Autumn to change, Eris. I want this to become a court that’s safe for women, where they won’t have to worry about being mutilated or sold off like livestock.

“We can bring the Valkyrie training program here. Teach women how to fight and defend themselves if that’s what they wish. Create a village for females who have been traumatised by males and want to live in peace. Like the Library in the House of Wind, but less isolated. Once word gets out, we offer sanctuary to any females suffering – from Night Court or any court. Once the females start leaving Night, the males will turn on each other. The entire court will crumble.”

The room was silent for a minute before Eris spoke. “My dear, changing the ways of this court will take time…”

You cut him off. “No. That’s Rhysand’s exact excuse. You will be High Lord, Eris. Your word is law, and you can write and rewrite them as you wish. Anyone who opposes you can face the consequences. Make an example of those who oppose the loudest.”

“But then he’d be just like Beron.” Nesta protested.

“Beron used his power to enforce laws of hate,” You countered. “To make people's lives worse. You can use it to make them better, even if it's at the cost of some of the uptight males.”

You heard Eris chuckle into your leg, his amber eyes glinting. You yanked on his hair, not missing the way his throat bobbed. “What’s so funny?” You demanded.

“You’re just so sexy when you’re plotting revenge and the downfall of an enemy court.” Eris purred, rubbing your thigh ever so slightly with his hand. Your skin tingled beneath his touch, and you felt yourself heat up at the contact. Nesta chuckled, her sweet breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine. With your mate behind you, her lips so close to your skin, and the silver tongued Autumn prince still kneeling in front of you, the room suddenly felt a lot warmer.

“Speaking of sexy and plotting revenge, there’s someone who I think could be of great use to this plan.” Eris continued.

Nesta frowned. “Who?”

Eris smirked, lifting his head and nodding towards the empty corner of the room. The darkness began to shift, familiar shadows curling to the side to reveal a dark set of leathers, accompanied by a pair of leathery wings and hazel eyes.

The Spymaster of the Night Court.

“What the fuck?” You practically yelled as Azriel stepped into the light. Nesta’s arm went in front of you protectively, her eyes smouldering.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Azriel said quietly, his scarred hands at his sides. “I’m working with Eris.”

“You… what?” You sputtered. Nesta was utterly still, like a lioness poised to strike at any second. While Azriel had refused to kill you and disobeyed Rhysand’s orders, you couldn’t forget how he grabbed you and put you in that cell. How you’d seen that dark side of the shadowsinger that everyone in Prythian feared.

“He and I began working together right before we rescued you.” Eris explained. “He told us where you were, and we began meeting in secret after that.”

“Why?” Your answers were limited to a few words, as you reeled with shock.

“Rhysand has been very shaken up by your escape,” Azriel spoke softly, trying to appear in the least threatening manner possible. “I wanted Eris to know if he was planning retaliation, so I’ve been reporting his movements.” The same mission he gave you to do on Tamlin.

“But… why? Why go through all of this for us?”

The shadowsinger shifted on his feet, swallowing thickly. “Because what I did… what I let happen… it was wrong. All of this was wrong, handled incredibly poorly on my family’s part. I know apologising will not mean anything, and it shouldn’t. I’ve done nothing to earn your trust, but I hope I can soon. I want to help you.” He glanced between you and Nesta. “Both of you.”

“You’re committing treason, Azriel.” Nesta said lowly. “Rhysand will kill you if he finds out.”

“He won’t find out unless I want him to.” Azriel said confidently. “And I can take care of myself.”

Eris piped up. “Azzy has been very useful to me. Rhysand thinks he’s spying on me, it’s quite ironic. We’re a fantastic pair if you ask me.”

The Illyrian rolled his eyes, but didn’t snap back like you had expected. Last you checked, the pair hated each other. Their allegiance was surprising, but opened up a whole other world of possibilities for getting into Night.

“I have something for you.” Azriel reached into his pocket, pulling out two neatly folded pieces of paper. “From your friends.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling Nesta do the same. You both missed Emerie and Gwyn terribly, and you found yourself plagued by guilt of leaving them behind. You grabbed one of the letters while Nesta grabbed the other, and began to read.

Nesta, (Y/N), Azriel told Gwyn and I everything. I am so sorry we couldn’t protect you, and it makes me sick to think about what Rhysand was doing to you, (Y/N). Things are going badly here – the training sessions have mostly been disbanded, Cassian is too unhinged right now to be around the priestesses. I think Rhysand is suspicious of us too, thinking we helped you somehow. I hope you’re both safe in Autumn with Eris. Azriel says we can hopefully visit soon, maybe we can move in with you guys haha. Thinking of you both, Emerie.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you looked over and saw Nesta’s doing the same. “Emerie said Cassian is….unhinged.” You said carefully, noting the female tense behind you. “What does that mean?”

Azriel’s hazel eyes shifted to Nesta. “There’s a lot on your plates right now, we don’t need to make it worse by discussing Cassian…”

“I would like to know.” Nesta said firmly, her voice monotone. You reached down and grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze.

Azriel took a breath before replying. “He’s angry. Murderous. He would never hurt the priestesses, but he’s surrounded by a cloud of rage that terrifies everyone around him. He’s picking fights in the war camps every day, beating asshole generals half to death to let off steam. None of us can get through to him, except Rhysand. I fear he will snap and fly to Autumn to try and take Nesta back, he’s convinced himself she’s being held here against her will.”

“He can’t do that.” You blurted out.

Eris scoffed. “He can try. My father would love that, actually. The brute would be breaking a ton of rules and would be forfeiting his life by doing so. We won’t let anything happen to you, Nesta.”

You went to speak, but Azriel quickly shushed you. The room went still as tendrils of shadows scurried back to the spymaster. “Someone’s coming.”

“Here?” You whispered, confused.

“Yes, it’s your fiancé.” Azriel hissed. “Nesta, Eris, come here.”

Without a word, your mate and the Autumn Prince scurried over to the spymaster. He held out his arms, and Eris snorted. “You want a hug right now, bat boy?”

“Shut up. My shadows can shield us. Quickly.”

Eris rolled his eyes, but stepped into Azriel’s arm. Nesta did the same, eyes wide with panic. Shadows began to engulf them as they blended into the darkness. Within seconds, they had vanished entirely just as the doorknob began to turn.

The door swung open harshly, revealing a tall male who was unmistakably a Vanserra. He had a stocky build, a wide face with glowing amber eyes that were too close together for your liking. His red hair was short, slicked back in the exact same way Beron’s was. He wore elaborate armour that reeked with the faint stench of blood. Your blood chilled as he let out a sickly smile that reminded you of a demon. A golden tooth glinted in the candlelight, illuminating a white scar through his lip that spanned across the lower half of his face.

“Well, if it isn’t my lovely bride to be.” His voice was like a snake – smooth and charming, yet unmistakably dangerous.

“Malgorm.” You said evenly, standing up. You backed up, trying to put more space between you and the imposing male in front of you. That only egged him on more, as he took another large step towards you.

“The one and only.” He rubbed his hands together, sizing you up as if you were his next meal.

“What are you doing here?” You fought to keep the tremor out of your voice.

He shrugged. “I came to inspect my wife, of course. To see what I’m working with.”

Inspect. His choice of words chilled you. He truly saw you as an object, like you were a shiny new toy he was going to decide if he liked or not. There was a hunger in his eyes that scared you, one that looked like it was a bottomless pit, never satisfied. “I take it you’re a virgin?” He continued casually.

You lied. “Yes.”

Malgorm hummed in approval, walking around to your side of the bed. You stood your ground, despite every instinct telling you to run for the hills. When he reached you, he grabbed the neckline of your dress and pulled it towards him, eyes unabashedly going to your bare chest beneath.

Disgusted, you slapped his hand away instinctively, not thinking of the consequences. Malgorm let out a low growl and grabbed you by the throat, slamming you into the wall. Your head screamed at the impact, but your throat was too restricted to let out a gasp. He was like a feral beast, breathing heavily in your face like a hound salivating before a piece of fresh meat. He leaned forward, dragging his crooked nose along your neck and inhaling deeply. You whimpered – not in arousal, but in fear. You wanted to kick, scream, anything, but you felt frozen.

And Malgorm knew it.

He chuckled, biting your ear hard enough to draw blood. You winced as the liquid trickled down your neck. “I’m going to have fun with you.” He purred in your bleeding ear before finally letting you go just as the edges of your vision went blurry.

You fell to the floor, gasping for air as he turned to walk away. Your entire body trembled, and you felt like you were going to be sick.

“Until next time, my lovely.” Malgorm quipped before slamming the door behind him.

The second the male’s footsteps went out of earshot, the shadows in the corner quickly disappeared, Nesta and Eris shooting out from behind them like a rocket. Fury consumed Nesta’s features as she crouched down beside you and put a hand on your back. Her eyes glowed faintly as she spoke, and you noticed she was breathing heavily as if she had been struggling against something. “I’m going to fucking kill him.” She growled through her teeth.

Eris gently knelt on your other side and pulled a cloth from his pocket. He pressed it against your breathing ear while examining the forming bruises on your neck and the back of your head. It stung, but you barely felt it.

Azriel stepped forward, the disgust written clear as day on his face. “That’s who Beron is marrying you to?” He gaped, echoing your thoughts.

“Not if I can help it.” Nesta hissed, rubbing small circles on your back. “I don’t care what I have to do, I am not letting this marriage happen.”

“Neither am I,” Eris spoke cautiously, gently wiping the blood off your neck in soothing strokes. “But we have to be smart about this. We can’t just kill him randomly one afternoon, especially not before we deal with my father.”

You let out a sob, tears flowing down your cheeks. Nesta wiped them away with her sleeve, which only made you cry harder. Every time you thought you had escaped something bad, it only led to something worse. At this point, you were more scared of being held captive by Malgorm than Rhysand. At least you were pretty sure the High Lord of the Night Court wouldn’t rape you.

As Nesta comforted you and Eris tended to your wounds, you looked up at Azriel. You expected to see a look of disgust on his face at the sight of the three of you cuddled up together on the floor. Admittedly, you had no idea what to call whatever was going on between you all – you were mated to Nesta, who also had feelings for Eris, something you shared in common with her. Yet you felt no jealousy, no anger that your mate blushed whenever the male complimented her. You had assumed Azriel would find it strange, but there was no distaste on his features as he stared down at the three of you. There was something else behind his gaze, a mixture of regret, contentment, and something else you couldn’t place.

The shadowsinger’s deep voice filled the room, quieting your sobs. “I will help you get out of this marriage, (Y/N), if it’s the last thing I do. Whatever you need me to do, you only have to ask.”

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford @marigold-morelli @thesapphiclibrarian @nikovasbitch @chasing-autumns-chill @the-sweet-psycho @

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domiforpresident · 8 months ago

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Selfish lover

Riri willams x fem!black reader

Word count: 1.5k

Contains: cheating, crying, fluff

Dividers creds: @firefly-graphics

Summary: Riri’s heart is torn between you and shuri. She thinks that her love is shared equally which makes it ok, but you have had enough of being kept in the dark.

A/n: to the annon that requested this I love you sm because this was so fun to write

This is gonna be a 2/3 part fic so look forward to a part 2 very soon!!

Y/n’s POV:

Riri had been gone for a few weeks. Working on a project with Shuri in Wakanda. To your knowledge it was strictly business, Or at least that was the lie she told you. Her true intentions were to visit her girlfriend shuri. She didn’t mean to fall in love with her but she did. All whilst still loving you. For a while she was stuck. Confused on what to do with her new found feelings for the queen. Riri didn’t have the heart to tell you. She couldn’t bear the burden of breaking your heart. So instead she decided she would take on both of you as lovers. In her own sick and twisted mind giving both of you equal attention was justification for what she was doing.

You got suspicious at times when she would come home extra late. Not revealing where she came from. It was always “it’s top secret iron heart stuff, I would tell you if I could.” That excuse never really puts your doubts to rest. But you hated when your mind pondered the worst. So it would have to suffice.

There were other times where she would come home with scents lingering on her. Ones not familiar to your nose. Her excuse was “that’s a new cologne I’m trying my love”. Once again you would choose to believe her, just to put your uncertainty at bay.

Today Riri was coming home. Later than what she promised. This wasn’t out of the ordinary, but You became worried sick when the clock struck 12:00pm. Riri was well past being late. The silence in your room was uncomfortably loud, booming through your ears like a stereo. Your heavy breathing being the only thing that slightly drowned out this insufferable sound. Your cheeks were drowned in your tears. You kept rubbing them away hoping that they would stop. Though truthfully, you knew this wasn’t going to happen until your girlfriend came home.

*DING*

You flipped your phone up off your covers. Hoping that it was Riri. But to your dismay, she still hadn’t responded to your 30 missed calls. That’s when the thoughts of genuine fear started to kick in. What if a mission of hers had gone wrong, or worse? You decided to call Riri one more time. Still No response. Your heart was starting to collapse in your chest. Where was she at?

Riri’s pov:

Riri watched shuri intensely. The queens exposed biceps flexed with every bag she picked up. Riri always over-packed just so she could gawk at Shuri while she carried her bags to and from the ship. Shuri could’ve easily Gotten the dora milaje to complete this task. That is if she didn’t secretly love seeing Riri swoon over her.

“Are you going to keep staring at me or are you gonna answer my question?” Shuri chuckled.

Riri was so caught up in her own endeavors that she hadn’t realized Shuri was done gathering her things.

“I’m sorry Shuri, it’s just so hard to pay attention when my girlfriend looks this good” Riri responded. Eyes studying every part of Shuris body, stopping at her face.

Shuri took one large step closer to Riri. So now the front of their bodies would be pressed up against each other. Shuri tilted her head, a smirk adorning her face. “If you keep talking like that you won’t be going anywhere for a few more hours.”

Riri so badly wanted to give in to her wants. She so badly wanted to pounce onto Shuri right then and there. You would be ok right? It would only be a few more hours. Riri's mind started to slip to all the sinful things Shuri would do to her, and her to Shuri. But no, this wasn’t right. You would start to get suspicious and that could lead to Riri getting caught. Which she had never planned to happen. If Riri was lucky she could and would keep this up for years.

“I can’t Shuri, I would if I could” Riri sighed.

“You’re already late anyway, why not just stay one more day?” Shuri pouted, wrapping her arms around Riris waist.

“You know I got things to handle back home Shuri, I’ll miss you though” Riri pecked Shuri On the lips.

Shuri Leaned in to deepen the kiss “you don’t have to miss me when I’m right here Sthandwa sami.”

Their lips worked skillfully together, tongues intertwining. Riri wanted, no needed to stay like this forever. Her lips on Shuris was a match made in heaven. As Riri felt shuris hands creep up to her neck she knew to pull away. Or else she wouldn’t be able to escape Shuris embrace.

“Bye Shuri, I love you.” Riri waved as she stepped onto the ship.

“I love you too. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Shuri asked eagerly.

“I’m sure, love.”

….

After an hour of flying on the ship Riri caught a glimpse of the Chicago city lights. Quickly realizing she was home. Riri loved just sitting back and admiring How beautiful and familiar they felt. The nightlife in Chicago reminded her of home. They were her peace, and so were you.

You had always been Riris sense of peace and security. You were the only person she opened up to about Losing her dad and best friend. All the nights you held Riri while she cried were sealed in her mind. She couldn’t imagine being that vulnerable with anyone else. Not even shuri. You were the only person who knew how to nurture all her wounds that burned so deep for many years. When she was with you it seemed like she was immediately healed.

“We’ve reached your destination Riri” one of the dora milaje called out from the front of the ship.

This snapped Riri out of her thoughts. The ship door opened and she stepped out on the street. Her bags In hand. Riri inhaled deeply, drinking in the air she missed so much. To say Riri was Home Sick would be an understatement.

Y/n’s POV:

Abruptly you heard a knock at the door. Your head jolted up, wiping away the tears that slid down your face.

“Ma it’s me open up” Riri called out.

You ran to the door and looked through the peephole. Making sure that your ears didn’t deceive you. When you saw her a soft smile formed on your face. Thank god she was ok. Now that you knew she was well and alive. Your irritation started to kick in. Why couldn’t Riri text you and let you know she would be getting home late?

You moved your body back to open the door and let her in. She was dressed in a white tee and black sweatpants, Her curls out. She looked good but what was new. In her hands she carried pink carnations. Of course she would bring you your favorite flowers to make up for her absence.

“Flowers aren’t always gonna cut it, Riri.” You scoffed out at her.

“Damn I can’t get a hi? And since when am I Riri?” She said setting your flowers down on the table in your dorm room.

“Since you started ignoring my phone calls Riri.” You said with a look of irritation, Turning to fully face the smaller girl.

Once Riri saw your puffy bloodshot eyes, she rushed over to you. Placing her hand on your cheek. Wiping at the few tears that still sat on your face.

“Were you crying my love?” Riri asked with sincere concern coating her voice.

“Why would you care? You can’t even pick up the phone when I call you.” You looked off into the corner of your room. Not wanting to face her, and those big brown eyes. Those alone were enough to make you crack.

Riri turned your head back towards her. “I’m so sorry for however I made you feel, baby. I was working on a project and I couldn’t reach my phone. But that’s not an excuse.”

“Mhm it isn’t.” You responded.

She stretched out her neck to kiss you on the lips lightly. You leaned into her embrace.

“And I won’t ever do that to you again, Ok?” She said Still placing kisses on your lips. You gripped the back of her neck. Making the kiss deeper. How could you stay mad at her? Those soft brown lips were irresistible regardless of how upset you were.

“Does that mean we good now?”

You rolled your eyes “Oh shut up and come cuddle me to sleep.”

she tilted her head and scrunched her eyebrows Playfully “Don’t get too bold ma” she said, a grin on her face.

Riri listened though and the two of you fell asleep in one another's grasp. Your head was placed on her chest. The sound of her heart beating was a personally made lullaby for you. Making you sleep soundly for the rest of the night.

#mcu riri williams #black sapphic #lgbtq #riri is my wife #riri wiliams x reader #shuriri #riri x black!reader #shuri x riri #mcu fanfiction #ironheart #shuri udaku

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crownedghostprince · 10 months ago

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Thorin's Company x Heterochromia!Reader Headcanons

Thorin's Company x Heterochromia!Reader

Fandom: The Hobbit/LoTR

What if the dwarves met and loved (platonically or romantically) someone in Middle Earth who had a very unique condition where their eyes were coloured differently? In this world, heterochromia is incredibly rare with only a few known cases in the entire world so the dwarves are naturally curious about this.

And you get to see how your favourites might react in this Headcanon style fanfiction!

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): Minor mentions of bullying and reader's family members dying in certain headcanons. Nothing graphic. <3

Note: Please note I will be changing reader's heterochromia for each dwarf's headcanon to make the writing very different. I hope that's okay. This is because this is mostly a crack-fic <3

I will also sometimes specify when reader is a woman, or has feminine characteristics/pronouns are used or mentioned, I hope that is also okay. Enjoy! :)

Word Count: 13,401 (roughly lol)

[Second Person Perspective]

(Apologies for the image. I was going to post an image of Thorin's Company here, but then I realized you might not have seen a picture of a bunny today. This adorable bunny image was originally posted by "Heidi's Cottage" on tumblr! Please show them some love!!)

♡

Thorin: (Romantic): (Dark Blue eyes with Brown around one's center)

♡ Your eyes are a little harder for Thorin to notice at first.

♡ The dark colours of your eyes and Thorin being too embarrassed to make eye-contact with you when you first met are the reasons it took him a week to notice your unique eyes.

♡ You had first met at Bilbo's house in the Shire where the candlelight bounced off the blue of your eyes when Thorin glanced over at you.

♡ You pretended to not notice him stealing glances as you listened to the gathering.

♡ So, after a week of Thorin being protective, sweet and considerate towards you, he finally noticed your eyes.

♡ It was a beautiful sunny morning and Thorin was allowing the company a few more minutes to brush and re-braid their hair.

♡ You decided to take care of your own hair and absentmindedly admired the clouds as they drifted by from above.

♡ Thorin joined you under the warm sun and made some small conversation about the journey, how rough it would be...mostly making sure you're prepared mentally.

♡ But his breath caught in his throat when you turned to meet his eyes.

♡ He always thought you shared the exact same eye colour, albeit your eyes being a much darker blue, but today he was proven wrong as his eyes drifted to the eye with the brown ring around the pupil.

♡ In the sunlight this brown colour was very distinguished and even looked slightly like caramel.

♡ He was so stunned by the beautiful design adorning your eye he didn't speak for another minute.

♡ When you finally asked if everything was alright, he slowly nodded and spoke.

♡ "In all my years I've never witnessed such beauty. Like a rare gemstone whose colours are only truly seen once under the sunlight."

♡ Please his compliments are so cute and sweet. And creative!

♡ "It's as if your eye wrapped itself in a warm autumn blanket before the cold blue winter covered it with its' icy snow."

♡ He loves your eyes even more now.

♡ They're a sight he cherishes every day.

♡ Sometimes when he can't see the brown around your pupil, he'll gently move you into the sunlight, or bring a candle between you two so he can watch the colour light up and glow.

♡ He made you a dagger with a beautiful wooden design around one of the two sapphires that adorned the handle.

♡ "I wanted to capture your eyes in this dagger for future generations to witness and admire." He smiled as he gave you his gift.

♡ There were also intricate words in Khuzdul that you now knew read, "The eyes of My Beloved."

♡ This sweet hopeless romantic makes sure you never feel embarrassed about your eyes and also stops anyone who might even joke about them. To him they're something to celebrate. Not to mock. <3

~~~

Fili: (Romantic): (Light Blue and Dark Green eyes) ((This is gonna be long, sorry lol))

♡ Your eyes are very noticeable when people first meet you.

♡ Your light blue eye stands out the most and draws people to your eyes when they first meet you, thus leading them to immediately notice the dark green colour of your other eye.

♡ When I say dark green, it's not that dark, it's simply a very strong and rich green colour.

♡ However this was not the case when you first met the dwarves during a fight against some orcs as the group ran towards Rivendell - your home.

♡ You were waiting for Gandalf's arrival when you and the other elves heard orcs just in the distance.

♡ You all saddled up and you rode alongside Lord Elrond as you all charged into battle, firing your arrows and drawing them away from Rivendell's secret entrance.

♡ You rode your horse past the entrance to the secret tunnel to make sure the orc that fell in was definitely dead and you noticed a group of dwarves, alongside Gandalf, just hidden inside.

♡ Your hair covered your eyes and the light being directly behind you made you appear more like an apparition to the dwarves rather than an actual, physical being.

♡ Thus you quickly turned away, allowing them to finish their journey to Rivendell alone as dwarves and elves typically do not get along.

♡ Once you had made it back to Rivendell, circling the dwarves and feeling unsure of their intentions, you noticed a beautiful blond dwarf in the group.

♡ He stood out from the rest of the group, the sunlight bouncing off of his hair and causing it to practically glow under its' light.

♡ You dismounted after Lord Elrond and greeted Mithrandir (Gandalf) before turning to the group.

♡ Your excellent hearing picked up on all of the stunned, but soft, gasps that flooded the group upon seeing your unique eye colours.

♡ You were simply amused by their reactions. Afterall, your eyes were a rare sight to behold.

♡ Quiet, polite whispers started to circle the group before Thorin and Lord Elrond greeted each other.

♡ "Are those her real eye colours?"

♡ "Of course, Ori, hush."

♡ "Whoa~"

♡ "Did you see his eyes, Fili?" That was a brunett dwarf with scruff talking to the blond.

♡ You simply gave the group a curt nod and avoided the blond's eye-contact before following Lindir up the steps so you could clean up and change out of your armour.

♡ The thoughts circled through your head. But specifically the name of the beautifully handsome blond dwarf...'Fili'. His name rolled through your head over and over again like a bouncy melody that never leaves your thoughts.

♡ Eventually, whilst playing your small harp you noticed heavy footsteps walking up the stairs towards you. You opened your eyes and continued to play your favourite melody as the birds in the trees above you sang along.

♡ As you expected, one of the dwarves walked up the steps and stopped at the top. But unexpectedly, it was the blond, Fili. You greeted each other with a smile and he approached you nervously.

♡ "I like your eyes. It's like the Gods couldn't choose if sapphires or emeralds would suit you better, so they gave you both." He smiled dreamily.

♡ Damnnnn he got that 'Line of Durin' rizzzz. (I'm sorry).

♡ (I'm still sorry about before) ♡ (please accept my apologies....) ♡ (I will give you cookies)

♡ And this is where your sweet romance blossomed and continued to bloom for many years.

♡ "Thank-you. I like your hair. It glows like fire under the sun's light. It's stunning." You smiled back, taking a break from your music to flirt with the sweet dwarf.

♡ He brings you green zennia (associated with lasting affection) and bluebell flowers (associated with everlasting love).

♡ When he found out what your favourite animal was he immediately made you a courting gift. A necklace with the animal as the main piece with a sapphire and emerald for each eye. Matching your eyes perfectly.

♡ You happily showed him your own courting gift. "We were thinking the same thing!" You laughed as you gave him the painting you'd made of him.

♡ It was hyper-realistic and you could see every strand of hair and even the eyelashes adorning his blue eyes on it. It was also textured so he could feel the grooves and bumps as he brushed his fingers across it.

♡ He loved it and you two had the best courtship ever.

♡ You courted for a couple years before marrying and life had never been better for the both of you.

♡ "Your eyes are enchanting. Like the forest meets the ocean. And they marry." He grins, sliding across a small box with rings and hair beads.

♡ "Oh? Is this your way of implying something?" You smile back, sliding over your own small box.

♡ "You gotta stop thinking the same thing I'm thinking. At this rate we're gonna have two celebratory weddings." He laughs.

♡ "Y'know, I see nothing wrong with that."

♡ Y'all are so cute, please have a nice two weddings.

♡ He loves making you laugh and smile - watching your eyes light up with joy. You make him so happy every single day.

~~~

Kili: (Romantic): (Dark Brown and Blue eyes) ((This is gonna be long, sorry lol))

♡ When you started travelling with the company, you had fallen from the modern world into Middle Earth with your sunglasses.

♡ And damn was the sunlight bright! So you almost always wear your sunglasses unless it's night and you're sleeping.

♡ So no one usually sees your eye colours and when they do, it's more just a glance of your blue eye.

♡ Then, one day Thorin decides to set up camp earlier than usual allowing everyone time to relax in the sunlight and watch the sunset as you all ate Bombur's delicious cooking.

♡ You spent all your time during the journey cracking jokes and trading stories with everyone. But you mostly hung out with Fili and Kili, having fun riding alongside them and dancing in the rainy nights.

♡ It was a lot of fun to be with this group. And this day was no different as you sat beside the brothers and joked around.

♡ Once the sun had set enough and the sky started to change colour you took your sunglasses off to admire the colours without the soft orange tint you were used to.

♡ Fili - being an excellent wingman for his brother and best friend - left you both for a few minutes to help Bombur clean up the dishes and find more firewood with Bilbo.

♡ You smiled and dragged your eyes away from the sunset to see Kili's reaction and found him already staring back at you with the softest brown eyes you've ever seen.

♡ A moment passed between you two as you both admired each other's eyes before chuckling and awkwardly turning back to look at the sunset.

♡ "Your eyes are beautiful. I've never seen anything like them. Everyone's eyes are usually very similar...but yours are different. I like them" He grinned. You watched as his face and ears grew red.

♡ "You're so cute. Thank-you, darling."

♡ He brings you blue flowers that have bits of brown on them. Whether from decay, dirt, mud or just the colouration. (is that a word?) But either way he loves bringing you flowers.

♡ Especially your favourite flowers. He'll bring you those whenever you pass them on your journey.

♡ You both play silly games to pass the time where you basically say what you like about the other, or try and guess their favourite thing, etc.

♡ He doesn't draw too much attention to your eyes, because he doesn't know if it's a sensitive topic or something you're uncomfortable with.

♡ But he definitely encourages you to wear your sunglasses less often when you're comfortable with it. Especially when it's just the two of you together.

♡ After reclaiming Erebor he'll sometimes surround you with candles until he can't fit anymore in the circle around you. Just so he can see you lit up under the candlelight.

♡ He's cute.

♡ Definitely brings you clothes with brown and blue mixed together in beautiful patterns that dance down the fabric and across the threads.

♡ He loves seeing you dance, loving how your eyes light up with excitement and joy. Sparkling towards him like gemstones under moonlight.

♡ Once you learned Khuzdul, he confidently made you a dwarvish bead as a gift with the words "my darling river" written on them very finely.

♡ You wear it all the time and only take it out to brush your hair when he's there. But typically only he can take it out to brush your hair and then braid it back in.

♡ He adores you and sees your eyes as just another reason to love you.

♡ Kili loves your sense of humour, your fun facts, all your little quirks and habits, etc.

♡ But surprisingly, he loves your hair more than anything else.

♡ He loves when you style it in a new, or fun way. He also loves when you dye it and will offer to help you dye your hair.

♡ Once you even dyed some bronze highlights through his hair that shone like copper in the sunlight.

~~~

Dwalin: (Romantic): (Dark Brown and Light Hazel eyes) ((This is gonna be long, sorry lol))

♡ Dwalin and the Company were fighting orcs and running for their lives, following Gandalf to safety when you jumped in from out of nowhere to help them fight the orcs.

♡ You used your incredible arcobatic skills and daggers to take down the orcs and wargs with the dwarves' and wizard's aid.

♡ After the fight, you turned to the group with a big smile, specifically greeting Gandalf.

♡ After bowing for Thorin and the group and introducing yourself, Gandalf encouraged you to join them over a nice dinner.

♡ You were only planning on staying until they found camp, enjoy dinner with them and then be back on your own way - aimlessly wandering the beautiful land.

♡ But Gandalf's offer was hard to decline, especially after you'd met the incredibly cool dwarf, Dwalin.

♡ His scars probably had awesome stories to tell and you were curious to hear them.

♡ You loved his style, the cool and cold exterior he had with a constant frown. But you saw his eyes clearly had a different story to tell.

♡ You decided in the morning you'd accept Gandalf's kind invite and would fight for the dwarves to take their home back. "I'd be honoured to fight alongside you all."

♡ "Here you go, lad. Just sign this paper and we'll proceed." Balin smiled, handing you the paper. You thanked him, signed it after a quick read and finished packing up the camp. You were on your way on another strange adventure with this equally strange wizard.

♡ But at least you had someone to talk to.

♡ You were kind to everyone, but especially went out of your way to talk to Dwalin, even if it was just small acknowledgements and 'are you okay?'s. That's all you needed, honestly.

♡ It took a while, but you saw him quietly warming up to you which showed mostly during a fight. You were a bit further away from the group than you had intended to be when Dwalin suddenly appeared by your side and helped you take down the group of orcs surrounding you.

♡ You both nodded and returned to the group, not saying much else until the rest of the orcs had run off or died. "Thank-you."

♡ "It's fine, lad." He simply nodded and walked by your side.

♡ After reclaiming Erebor and the battle (in which Thorin, Kili and Fili lived) you and Dwalin talked for hours whilst recovering. Not only were your temporary beds just across from each other, but you both were given some books to read until your bones healed.

♡ But you couldn't read Khuzdul, so you asked Dwalin to read them to you. He seemed hesitant but after a couple awkward hours of silence and boredom, he finally read the books.

♡ He read sentences in Khuzdul first, then translated them to English before continuing to the next.

♡ You didn't mind. In fact, hearing him talk in Khuzdul was fascinating to hear as his accent got thicker and his voice was louder. A contrast to the quieter English he'd then speak to you after.

♡ It took months and months before you both began to court and even then he hardly ever complimented you.

♡ It took a candlelight dinner, a walk through the forest outside of Erebor under the moonlight and you constantly complimenting him until he was brave enough to return your affections.

♡ "Your eyes are stunning. They glow like fire under the light." He smiled, turning away to look at the trees.

♡ He's surprisingly awkward and shy for someone so tough and cool. He's not sure how to compliment you, or court you.

♡ But he always knows what you might like gift wise. He'll bring you daggers, belts and once even a water-proof cowl from Dale for your travels.

♡ All the gifts he brings you perfectly compliment your eyes. Browns, oranges, soft yellows and simple beige outfits.

♡ Every time he leaves Erebor, he'll return with rocks, accessories and hats as simple little gifts he got for you.

♡ He cares a lot about you and always make sure any injuries you have are immediately tended to, even if you brush them off as simple scratches.

♡ He brings you food and water if you've just returned from a journey and want to go straight to bed. And when Thorin allows him, he'll journey with you.

♡ He loves to dance with you, especially under the sunlight in an open field of flowers. The colours and light cause your eyes to twinkle brightly and he loves it.

♡ The brown turning to caramel, the hazel shining in an almost green colour under the sunlight and blue under the moonlight.

♡ He loves to bring you new shades of clothing to see what colour your hazel eye will look most like when you wear it.

♡ Sometimes you'll wear blue and your hazel eye will look similar, but other times you'll wear red and the hazel in your eyes turns almost brown.

♡ Your eyes are a fascinating sight for him watch.

♡ He even writes down little notes about how your hazel eye changes around each colour.

♡ Even though the colour is also based on lighting, mood and other factors, you don't mention that. It's nice to just listen to him mutter and write little notes about your eyes each night.

~~~

Bofur: (Romantic): (Dark Hazel and Silver eyes)

♡ Your eyes are incredibly hard to miss.

♡ Bofur noticed them immediately when you first met in the ruins of Dale after the battle for Erebor. You had come from Laketown alongside everyone else and had quickly learned how to defend yourself and fight against orcs during the battle.

♡ He was walking around the ruins of Dale to help check on everyone and bring to them the healers and you were ushering children back to their parents and helping people dig themselves out of rubble when you two stumbled across each other.

♡ Both of you were scratched up, bruised and tired. But despite all that, you were both awestruck by the other's beauty.

♡ His shining armour, fluffy hat, twinkling eyes and the soft smile that grew wider when you greeted him. Gosh, you were nervous just talking to him.

♡ Your glowing hair, soft skin, dumbfounded look and distinctive eye colours. How could he not smile upon seeing you?

♡ He thought you looked stunning.

♡ After that day, you both hung out a lot. Whether in Dale or Erebor, you'd both just aimlessly walk for hours laughing at each other's jokes. You'd eat dinner together. Sometimes with the Company and other times with your friend group.

♡ He didn't shy away from complimenting you before you were even courting.

♡ "The silver glows like a diamond under the moonlight. What an amazing discovery...to see a gemstone this far above the ground." He smiled.

♡ "Such a beautiful mixture of green and brown and blue. Like a river flowing through a pine forest. Its' beauty is truly unmatched by any forest I've seen."

♡ Don't let the Ents overhear Bofur! He's so sweet!!

♡ So you best believe, his compliments only increased tenfold after you began courting.

♡ "Ghivashel, you look stunning this morning." (Translation: Treasure of all treasures).

♡ "Do you need help with that, mizimel?" (Translation: Jewel of all jewels).

♡ He loves making dolls with mismatched eyes now. He specifically made one for you though. Matching the hazel and silver of your eyes. For the hazel eye he used a zircon gemstone and the silver eye was a diamond.

♡ The beautiful doll had a lovely dress and hair that also matched yours. With your permission, he cut some of your hair and sewed it into the doll's head. The doll sits right beside your bed at all times and sometimes you even cuddle it to help you sleep.

♡ He spends hours asking you to sing and read to him whilst he lays down beside you or on your lap. Loving the way your eyes light up when you reach your favourite parts. Or when you're particularly proud of how you read, or sung, a part.

♡ Some nights it's just you and Bofur sitting under a tree, leaning against its trunk whilst listening to the world around you.

♡ You cherish the quiet moments you get to spend with Bofur, as sometimes you can't spend time together when you're both so busy with work.

♡ So, you both just enjoy each other's presences when you can. Resting together, falling asleep in soft grass and waking up to a bright sun above the hills, surrounding you both with its' glow.

♡ Beautiful morning, after beautiful morning. Time passed for months, seasons, and years. Until you both decided to marry. :)

~~~

Balin: (Platonic): (Light Blue and Dark Blue) ((This is gonna be long, sorry lol))

♡ Growing up was a struggle for you as your father had died fighting for Moria alongside Thorin Oakenshield.

♡ But Balin had noticed you when you were just a child; a young Dwarf watching the warriors return from Moria's battle.

♡ You watched as they praised Thorin Oakenshield and called him 'King' and 'Future King' depending on the dwarves.

♡ But still you searched for your father. More interested in hearing how the battle went from him.

♡ And when you couldn't find your father, you began to cry. A hand was gently placed on your shoulder so you looked up and there Balin was. Looking down at you with sad eyes.

♡ You hugged him immediately and began talking incoherently - asking for your father, where he was and why he hadn't returned.

♡ Balin took you under his wing after that day and to his astonishment, he watched as you grew up and your eyes slowly changed colour.

♡ Eyes can sometimes take years before they reach their permanent colour and that was how it was for you.

♡ By the time you were 7 years old, your eyes changed into totally opposite blue colours: one light blue like a topaz and the other very dark like the ocean.

♡ Balin raised you as best he could with help from Thorin and Dwalin. You also became good friends with Thorin's nephews, Fili and Kili.

♡ None of the dwarves ever ostracized you for your heterochromia, but instead they really adored you.

♡ Balin and you always travelled to the markets together. You were always helping him when he was tinkering with toys, practicing with a sword (you'd have a small wooden sword) and you both also tended to a garden together.

♡ Growing Coneflowers in the garden as they are very hardy flowers that can grow despite bad soil and drought. Hence growing them in a mostly dry, stone-y environment was a piece of cake.

♡ He could never resist your puppy-dog eyes when you wanted to travel with him. The light from the sun made your eyes sparkle and he didn't ever want you to cry or feel left alone.

♡ If he couldn't take you somewhere with him, Dwalin was fine with watching over you and letting you learn a bit of simpler smithing. He'd show you how necklaces were made and even some rings.

♡ If you ever grew self-conscious of your eyes, Balin would write and read to you stories of fantasy creatures with different coloured eyes.

♡ Somethings like... "Juniper didn't know why the others would play without him. He didn't know what made him different from the rest. He sat by the river one day and listened to all the different birds. Their different songs and colours. When suddenly, he realized something! He was different! But not on the outside!...

...Juniper ran to his mother very excitedly! He happily declared to her, 'I'm going to become the best fairy dancer one day!' and she smiled with joy, 'Of course you will be! And I'll be there to watch your every performance!' It was on this day Juniper decided his eyes were not the reason others did not play with him. It was because they didn't know who he was on the inside, and he was going to show them who he was! And he would dance with them at every celebration! He'd perform each move perfectly and smile the whole time. He'd show the world who he was and shine brightly for all to see."

♡ And many more stories similar to that, but perhaps a few pages longer...or a few chapters longer. :)

♡ You had many books of these fantasy stories handwritten by Balin by the time you were a teenager. And you re-read them all the time.

♡ He'd say "Child, never feel different because of your eyes. Know you're different because of your heart. Because of what you'll do with your life when you grow up. Know you're going to do amazing things in your life."

~~~

Bifur: (Platonic): (Light Brown with half of one eye being Light Green) ((This is gonna be long, sorry lol))

♡ You grew up in Earth with a cat companion that had the same colour eyes as you.

♡ Her name was Delta and she was a calico that followed you everywhere and slept with you in bed every night.

♡ Unfortunately for Delta, this meant she fell into Middle Earth with you when a portal suddenly appeared below you on one of your walks in the garden.

♡ You both fell super fast and you gripped Delta tightly against your chest - braced for impact.

♡ But the impact was softer than you thought it would be. Slowly you opened your eyes and looked around you.

♡ Realizing you had fallen directly onto a bush and a large portal above you, far up in the sky, closed.

♡ 'Oh dear...' you thought, 'Mum's not going to be happy about this.'

♡ To be fair, for an eleven-year-old, magic portals were the least of your concern and instead: 'when mum finds out I'm going to be grounded,' was currently more concerning to you.

♡ Delta - being very cuddly - allowed you to pick her up and carry her around once you brushed some dirt off yourself.

♡ You wandered. You were very lost by the time the sun was falling behind the hills that lay far past the forest you were trapped in.

♡ It was only just getting dark when a group of horses and people travelled down the road towards you and Delta.

♡ You watched as they came to a stop. A tall wizard-looking man with grey hair and beard was at the front of the group and he looked at you with very soft and kind eyes.

♡ Delta hissed at the sudden people, so you took a couple steps back and tensed to run.

♡ But the wizard spoke to the others and decided to set up camp and stop for the night. He hopped off his horse and walked towards you, switching a staff from one hand to the other as he approached before he crouched down, leaning on the staff for support to meet your height.

♡ "Hello." He greeted warmly.

♡ "Hello..." You greeted less confidently. And that's how you found yourself in the world of Middle Earth, meeting a group of dwarves, a hobbit and a wizard.

♡ They took great care of you and as you were too shy to speak, Bifur especially took to caring for you. He picked up on your non-verbal communication a lot faster than the others did and helped you climb onto the horses every morning.

♡ He helped you down every evening and made sure you were given food first every dinner and breakfast. He even made sure there were on-the-road snacks just for you to have lunch.

♡ Bifur never pushed boundaries or made you feel uncomfortable or unsafe. Quite the opposite actually, you felt safer with him rather than anyone else. Perhaps it was because he didn't expect you to talk, or respond.

♡ Nor did he ever push you to verbally communicate when you were still feeling too shy or scared.

♡ Although in our eyes the dwarves are incredibly friendly and kind and not very intimidating - save Dwalin - to an eleven-year-old, they were quite the scary, loud and unpredictable bunch.

♡ Laughing loudly quite suddenly, or grabbing food quite quickly and talking and singing all the time. You found you couldn't guess what they'd do next, but you also grew to love that chaos about them.

♡ Bifur was actually the first to pet Delta when you joined the Company on their adventure. He pet her to reassure you that you were both safe with the group.

♡ And yes, that worked perfectly. You stuck with them the whole journey and whilst they took extra care in keeping you safe, secure and out of danger, you still had to do a fair bit of running to keep up.

♡ Especially after you lost the ponies to the goblins. The Company was tempted to leave you with the Elves of Rivendell but Thorin immediately denied the idea and made sure you travelled with them.

♡ Lord Elrond had been very kind to you though and gave you paper and ink to draw with. You spent hours in Rivendell drawing flowers for the Company and showing them off proudly at night.

♡ They were very impressed and encouraging.

♡ But back to Bifur and you!

♡ At night when you were first adjusting to the new environment, you became terrified by the lack of light and began to cry, holding onto Delta for comfort. Bifur took notice immediately having been on first watch.

♡ He quietly called you over and came to get you. He then let you sit beside him as he watched over the camp and told you silly little stories via charades and shadow puppets. He used what was left of the fire's light for the shadow puppets.

♡ You became calmer and happier as the stories progressed and eventually you had drifted to sleep. You felt safe and you had a purring cat on your lap, so why wouldn't you feel safe?

♡ Bifur made sure you were supported and had a pillow to sleep on, letting you use his. He gave you a couple back pats as you drifted off until finally you were asleep and no longer crying.

♡ He went back to watch and kept an eye on you in case you had nightmares, but you slept just fine.

♡ As you may have noticed, the Company hasn't had much to remark about your unique eye colour.

♡ This is because your eyes a slightly harder to notice a difference in. The brown is very bright and the green is a soft shade that almost perfectly blends with the brown half of your eye.

♡ This perfect blend of colours made it harder for them to notice that the colours were different on your smaller eyes that you often avoided meeting people's gazes with.

♡ But they noticed it almost right away on Delta and thought she looked adorable.

♡ Bifur thought she was quite a lucky little kitty to be loved by someone so kind despite her unique eyes. Then one day you spoke up as they compliment Delta's eyes and asked about them.

♡ "Yeah, I was really excited when we found her. My mother said it was a big coincidence that we found a cat with the same coloured eyes as me." You softly laughed, petting Delta with a smile.

♡ The Company was quite for a while before Bifur finally made them ask you more about it.

♡ "What do you mean, child?"

♡ So you showed them. "I thought my eyes were very noticeable." You giggled, letting the light enhance the colours.

♡ Overall, your eyes are less noticeable, but Bifur made sure you knew that your eyes changed nothing about you. You were more than your outward appearance.

♡ But also, this is Bifur we're talking about. He brushes things off very fast when it doesn't seem that important.

♡ If you ever feel insecure? He'll grab a translator (Bofur) and make sure you know that your eyes will never change how others see you. Especially when your eyes are so pretty.

♡ He's great, but in a quiet way. He brings no attention to your eyes, mostly not noticing anything different regardless and only talks about them when you do. Like I said, he'd never push you to talk about stuff you don't want to.

♡ Bifur simply wants to make sure you survive in this new world and grow up just fine.

~~~

Ori: (Platonic): (Yellow and Grey)

♡ Ori was excited to travel with his friends and family and to go on such a daring adventure across Middle Earth to retake the mountain of Erebor.

♡ He was especially excited to join his family in some food at an apparently "very welcoming hobbit"s home.

♡ So when the Company showed up at Bilbo's home unannounced and without much more knowledge from the Wizard on who exactly this hobbit was, they were very surprised to find a young adult hobbit living with the older hobbit.

♡ About Ori's age, roughly 18 or so if you convert their ages to human years.

♡ Ori was excited to meet someone else his age, aside from Fili and Kili who were slightly older. So you can imagine everyone's surprise when they see her eyes in the bright candlelight.

♡ Now they've seen grey eyes, especially on older dwarves. This wasn't an uncommon eye colour at all.

♡ But yellow? Yellow eyes? And grey? Both? At the same time, but in a different eye each?

♡ That was certainly new.

♡ You didn't mind all their questions at first. Until they asked how it happened to which you had no clue. You didn't understand genetics, or biology and how could you? You were a simple florist who designed bouquets for any occasion a hobbit asked for.

♡ Anniversary? Roses, carnations and peonies. Birthday? Dahlias, orchids and chrysanthemums. Apology? Tulips, daffodils and lilies of the valley.

♡ But biology? All you could think of in your head was sunflowers and azalea for yellow; and low ho silver iris and edelweiss flowers for grey.

♡ But that was your brain designing a bouquet after your eye colours. Not the knowledge of how your eye colours came to be.

♡ Young Ori was especially fascinated by your eyes. How the grey would turn into an almost soft, pastel yellow in the candlelight and your yellow eye would glow like embers from a fire.

♡ When you were allowed to travel with the group, Ori watched as your grey eye glowed silver in the moonlight and the yellow glowed like a soft gold.

♡ You and Ori got along greatly and had lots of fun just talking about flowers and art. Ori would show you his sketches and they were so good you could pick out each individual flower he drew without needing to see his references.

♡ You were thankful he never judged you for your eyes. He was probably the first friend you had that didn't immediately judge you for looking a little different or 'weird' as others would say.

♡ He was super sweet and he even drew your eyes as best he could when sketching. You were more than happy to model for him as the sound of his sketching helped lull you into a cozy sleep late at night.

♡ This especially helped as the climate got colder and the floor harder to rest on. He can also read.

♡ So he'd sometimes read a book very quietly to you as you both huddled around the fire. You didn't understand the written dwarvish in front of you, but Ori was careful with his translations and the stories were very interesting.

♡ He said he only brought a couple of copies of books from back home, that way it wouldn't matter if he lost these books, he'd still have the originals. (In case you were worried).

♡ The stories of birds, dwarves, dragons and grand adventures kept your interest whilst sending you off to sleep. You dreamt about these grand stories. No wonder they were Ori's favourites.

♡ He was so sweet and always complimented your eyes. So you always complimented his eyes back. It was like having a brother. Similar to how Bilbo was almost like a father to you since he took you in eight years ago.

♡ You were a lost hobbit from a small hobbit town that was quite a while away from the Shire. Your parents died of disease and you were terrified of being next.

♡ But Bilbo properly nursed you back to good health and helped you through the grief and acceptance.

♡ And now here you were. Standing strong and with new friends, watching your 'father' flirt terribly with the leader of the group, Thorin.

♡ It was pretty funny and you and Ori got to joke about it lots when the other's wouldn't hear.

♡ Ori never once purposefully draws attention to you or your eyes, but he'll always be there if you speak up or someone else does.

♡ Like a protective older brother. He learned a lot from Dori.

~~~

Dori: (Platonic): (Silver and Dark Brown) ((This is gonna be long, sorry lol))

♡ When you were born, like most babies, you had very blue eyes. Just like your parents.

♡ But as you grew older, your parents watched with worry as your eyes changed. One eye getting lighter and lighter every day as the other became darker and darker.

♡ Your parents tried not to be too worried. After all, a local doctor said it was natural for children's eyes to change colour some weeks, and even years, after birth.

♡ But by the time you were 5 years old, one eye was completely silver and the other was a very dark brown. Your parents did their best to help you feel normal and to always comfort you after other children's strange or mean comments.

♡ Despite all that though, sometimes you wished you had an older sibling that could be by your side growing up. Someone to play games with, read books with, bake food with, etc. The other children were scared because your eyes made you 'different'.

♡ So they avoided you for many years. By the time you were an adult, you felt very insecure and styled your hair to fall over your silver eye as, 'brown is more common', children kept saying.

♡ During your first ever adventure outside of your small human village, you discovered a wandering grey wizard who took great interest in your clothing. You were wonderful at sewing and embroidery and he loved seeing all the intricate flowers, dragons and designs you had done on your clothing.

♡ He was especially surprised to find out you even sewed all your clothing yourself. He invited you to join him and the elves of Rivendell, of whom he was on his way to surprise with a visit. "They are very skilled with the fine arts such as embroidery and could teach you anything you wished to know about the art." He promised with a mysterious glint in his eyes.

♡ You ignored the thought at the back of your mind that wondered what he was planning and instead accepted his offer immediately. And he was right. Lord Elrond was very welcoming and taught you a great deal about sewing and embroidery. He even offered for you to visit as often as you liked between your future travels and you excitedly accepted.

♡ (Now the moment you've all been waiting for)

♡ One day after you had returned to Rivendell, a group of Dwarves and a hobbit showed up alongside a familiar wizard. You noticed them when they walked up the steps into Rivendell, following Lord Elrond who gave you a curt nod.

♡ You smiled and waved back, still holding a stunning Elven dress in your hands that you'd been embroidering. The elves had helped you to make it for special occasions if you ever wanted to join their celebrations in proper Elvish attired.

♡ Despite friendly nods from the hobbit and wizard, the Dwarves didn't really acknowledge you all that much - aside from glances to see if you were elf or human.

♡ But during a dinner with the elves and guests, they got to know you a bit more. Especially when you laughed and cheered to their songs and dances.

♡ You couldn't possibly be all that bad if you liked their music.

♡ They were there for weeks and during that time you slowly got to know them. An older dwarf, who was the eldest of his brothers, would especially spend time talking with you after you shared interest in wine.

♡ Every time you tried a new wine with him, he'd make sure to tell you all the cool details and facts about where and how it was grown, as well as how long it was left, why it should be left for however long, etc.

♡ You can now predict how long a wine should be left for based on how it was made. You also can sort of tell how aged a wine is by its taste. Not really, but you try and Dori gives you extra credit for that.

♡ His own brothers sympathize with the random wine and grapevine knowledge you'll be left knowing for the rest of your life. They too were subjected to hours of drunk Dori's stories and trivia.

♡ But the family was fun to hangout with - especially when they were completely drunk - so you didn't mind all that much.

♡ One day whilst you were drinking, Ori suddenly spoke up and asked, "Excuse me, (Y/N), but why does your hair cover one of your eyes? Doesn't that just make it harder to see?"

♡ "Aw, leave them alone, Ori." Bofur spoke up from the corner, smoking. "I think it's a cute style, (Y/N)." He gave a quick thumbs up.

♡ You returned it with a smile. "Nah, I don't mind the question." You chuckled, replying simply, "It is a bit hard to see with, but it doesn't affect my sight that much."

♡ You didn't feel comfortable telling anyone about your eye colour at that point. But Dori somehow sensed that something was a little off with your reply. He didn't pry, but he used his exquisite big brother skills to deduce a perfect solution to your current discomfort.

♡ Cheese.

♡ Therefore, Dori discreetly elbowed your arm and like a proper 'Wine Aunt' that visits every Christmas, he snuck you a little gift - a piece of cheese - when no one was looking and gave you a little nod of encouragement.

♡ "Thanks, Dori." You whispered when everyone was singing loudly and distracted.

♡ "No worries, kid." He grinned.

♡ Months went by, then years after they took back Erebor from Smaug. And you remained good friends with the Company and Bilbo. It was this winter you had decided to visit, your big brother figure Dori.

♡ During the time they were adventuring you opened up to Lord Elrond about your eye colours and he helped you feel more confident and comfortable with your appearance.

♡ It was the small things. Like the elves helping you change your hairstyle ever so slightly to show both your eyes and to frame your face better. Silver jewelry and beautiful leather clothes, boots and gauntlets.

♡ But all they did helped you so much, you'd almost forgotten there was anything different about you to begin with.

♡ So when you visited the dwarves, it's safe to say that jaws dropped.

♡ After all, heterochromia is one thing. SILVER heterochromia is another. Your eyes matched the fallen snow. The silver jewelry that adorned your ears as gifts from the kind elves. The silver moonlight that shone behind you when you entered the mountain.

♡ Bofur and Nori couldn't stop complimenting how beautiful it was and Ori desperately wanted to draw you. He'd never seen someone with two, beautiful eye colours and he wanted to remember the incredible sight.

♡ Dori basically became a temporary bodyguard by making sure no one was asking weird questions, or crossing your boundaries. He made sure to take you to a nice, quiet corner for some wine if you got overwhelmed by the attention.

♡ Your first night there was chaotic, but Dori had your back.

♡ He wasn't about to let anyone upset you. The group really helped you feel comfortable and confident. Adults being curious about such a phenomenon is very different to growing up with adults that feared the change.

♡ One day, Dori surprised you with a jeweled dagger the company had gotten together to make for you. "So you can stab anyone who insults you." Said Dori.

♡ "So you may defend yourself from danger, orcs, goblins or bandits." Corrected Thorin.

♡ "Or so you can look like a cool warrior facing off against wild beasts when hunting." Encouraged Ori.

♡ "Alright, alright. But it's also for stabbing." Dori huffed.

♡ "Guys, thank-you all so much for this." You smiled gratefully. The dagger was adorned with two jewels. A smokey quartz and a crystal. It matched your eyes.

♡ "It was Dori's idea." Balin grinned, throwing Dori under the river with his callout.

♡ "Well. Any decent person should carry a proper weapon of high quality. You see, higher quality daggers made by dwarves have a much better chance at actually piercing through veins and arteries with one cut and swing rather than the duller man-made blades that you sort of have to saw into an enemy's skin to pierce it deep enough to cause any proper damage...and of course that means the enemies will find their tough skin to be no match to the stronger, well smithed metal of dwarven craftmanship." Dori ranted in defense. Rambling a little, but you didn't mind.

♡ "Fascinating." You listened with awe.

♡ "You didn't catch half of that, did you?" Balin raised an eyebrow, watching you with a knowing-look.

♡ "Well, I understood half of it." You grinned honestly.

♡ "Ah, well allow me to explain slower." Dori cleared his throat and began with an added distant groan from Nori who'd heard all this several times growing up with his big brother.

♡ It was worth listening to Dori's explanations, facts and stories though. He was well-spoken, explained anything you missed and clarified anything you didn't understand. Like a big brother you had always wanted to be there for you.

~~~

Nori: (Romantic): (Orange and Dark Blue) ((This is gonna be very long, sorry lol))

♡ "If you let me sail, we'd be there by now." You huffed as Bard sailed the boat to the shores where the wine barrels wash up (after the Wood Elves let them out of the cellar of the Woodland Realm).

♡ Bard and you grew up together. You first met each other when your parents had decided to fish in the same spot out of Laketown and he pointed at you confidently saying, "You're weird."

♡ Other than the fish you were wearing on your head for a hat, you had no clue what would cause him to say such a thing to you.

♡ 'It must be because my eyes are two different colours!' You finally decided. After all, most other kids didn't like you for that reason. Apparently orange eyes were strange - especially when your other eye is a strikingly dark blue in comparison.

♡ "You're weird too!" You finally declared back.

♡ "At least I'm not wearing a fish for a hat." He rolled his eyes.

♡ "How dare you insult Saltwater the Third!"

♡ "What? Did you eat the other two?"

♡ "Daddd!!!!!" And that's how you two met as children.

♡ Don't worry, you still had a fish hat and you wore it all the time. The current one you had is Saltwater the Forty-Seventh if you were curious.

♡ Back to the present moment you two were in, he simply responded logically, "If you sailed us, the boat would be on the shore and the wine barrels would be in the water."

♡ "I don't see a problem with that. We could surf the barrels back to town."

♡ "Alright, (Y/N). You win. If you can surf a wine barrel all the way back to town, I'll let you drive the boat next time." Bard bet with a grin.

♡ "Deal. I'll be seeing you in town, later." You smugly smiled back.

♡ "Yeah. Tomorrow." Bard laughed. You couldn't help but laugh with him as the boat came to a stop along the shore. "Alright, let's go find those barrels." He sighed, hoping down and tying the boat to a makeshift post.

♡ You scouted ahead as he tied the ship up and saw the barrels further down the shoreline than usual. This isn't too odd considering the river's currents can be unpredictable. But it was the start to a very different day.

♡ The barrels were further up the shore - at a very rocky point - which meant you now had to climb up the rocky hill to go around a bunch of trees hanging at the edge of a cliff above the water to get to the opposite shore.

♡ You were halfway up when you thought about calling to Bard to let him know about the barrels when you heard water sloshing, footsteps and hushed voices nearby.

♡ There was no way it was Bard so you crouched down and watched a young dwarf with brown hair walk to the edge of the cliff not too far from you and sit down.

♡ He was emptying his boots of a lot of water right beside one of the barrels that you had first spotted from a distance.

♡ Upon closer inspection down below beside said barrel was another dwarf, a bit bigger with very grey hair that matched the rocks and a light coloured tunic that looked like dirt. Or was just very dirty. Either way he was basically camouflaged until you looked more carefully.

♡ 'Okay, so two dwarves near the barrels that elves use. I'm sure that's just a strange coincidence and they're just travellers.' You thought to yourself. Bard was only just climbing up the hill to join you so you decided to sneak around and spotted more dwarves that were seated behind boulders.

♡ 'Never mind, that's a lot more than two.' You mentally groaned. You snuck back to Bard just as he made it to the top of the hill. You pointed at the dwarves and used charades to count out 'thirteen' to Bard. His mouth gaped open and with a roll of his eyes he grabbed his bow from his back.

♡ 'Seriously?' You mouthed gobsmacked his first instinct was to shoot and ask questions later.

♡ 'There's more of them than of us.' He mouthed back whilst drawing his arrow back and aiming at the younger dwarf.

♡ 'So what? You're just going to shoot them?' You glared. He met your gaze again.

♡ 'It's not going to kill them.' He argued.

♡ 'I don't think that's the point here.' You finished and he reluctantly relaxed his drawstring.

♡ 'Fine. Just let me intimidate them.' He finally mouthed to you as the young dwarf was emptying out his other shoe now. He sneaked past you, drew back his drawstring once more and stood up to be clearly seen. The young dwarf froze in place and slowly turned around to look up at Bard. You decided to just watch from a distance, only having the skill to fight with a dagger for self-defense.

♡ He must've had all the dwarves' attention by now, still aiming his arrow at the same poor young dwarf. Bard's attention then shifted to the other dwarf who quickly stood up and grabbed a large branch - prepared to defend everyone.

♡ Bard then took his shot, the arrow whizzing straight into the branch's wood. Another dwarf in the distance, this one looking younger, picked up a rock and went to hurl it to Bard - but Bard was quicker and he shot the stone out of the dwarf's hand with another arrow. "Do it again, and you're dead." Bard threatened with another arrow drawn back.

♡ "Excuse me, but - uhm, you're from Laketown?" A new voice spoke up. You watched as an older, white-haired dwarf stepped forwards with his arms up in surrender whilst he cautiously approached Bard. "If I'm not mistaken?" Bard shifted and pointed his arrow whilst letting him continue talking. "That...barge over there." The older dwarf points to our ship which could be seen, but they had only just noticed in the distance. "It wouldn't be available for hire, by any chance?"

♡ "There's a chance." Bard unnotched his arrow and put it back in his quiver, swinging the bow back around his arm before stepping down the rocks as carefully as he could. "But it's unlikely. We're only here for these barrels."

♡ "We..?" The older dwarf was cut off when Bard waved you over and you helped him to start moving the barrels up the cliff to the ship. "Oh.."

♡ "Do you need help with that, lass?" A different brunet dwarf asked, approaching you and Bard carefully.

♡ You and Bard shared a brief glance, calculating how much sooner you could have dinner with a little help and finally you nodded. "Yes, please. Thank-you."

♡ And that long introduction, chat, is how you first met Nori.

♡ You, like Bard, were very skeptical of the dwarves and only helped them with the promise of pay. Double pay meant you and Bard could easily half it and you wouldn't be totally sacrificing all your pay to your pet cat. Which in turn meant you could buy yourself food!

♡ (Yes, you have a cat and yes he is your first priority. He's the best mouse-catcher in Laketown. He's the sole reason mice have been less of a problem and don't get into the winter food storage sheds anymore.)

♡ Nori thought you were odd to say the least. You wore a fish on your head, had completely different coloured eyes and talked like you were either high, or drunk, 24/7.

♡ You almost didn't have anything more to do with the dwarves after that fateful day, but Nori saw you struggle and stole some food before he went to the mountains and lemme tell you. After nearly 9 hours since your last meal, that little gift of stolen food was like a marriage proposal.

♡ In the Battle against the orcs there was no way you were just going to sit in a building uselessly with a bunch of other women. You grabbed a sword, petted your cat and charged a bunch of orcs, slicing as quickly as you could to deflect and kill them.

♡ During the chaos of everything, you bumped into Nori. Although you had no clue how he and you and ended up fighting near each other, you stood strong and watched each other's backs as orc after orc charged you.

♡ The battle felt never ending and you could've sworn a tinge of pink had lit up the sky and clouds whilst you fought for your survival. The sun was setting and you were still fighting.

♡ Once the battle was one and the injured were healed and Thorin paid people what they were owed, Nori and you sat down together near a dying campfire. You had gotten along since the battle.

♡ He would crack so many jokes it was great! He also liked your jokes. Your favourite thing about his jokes was: they were never about your appearance, or eyes or the fish hat you wore. He would joke about anything!

♡ From teasing his own siblings to laughing at how silly the Elves looked - being all serious. But he showed nothing but adoration for your eyes.

♡ Months passed and Dale was rebuilt. You and Bard had moved into Dale with Bard's children. Nori visited often. You two went fishing, shopping, hiking and scouting together.

♡ Eventually, he started to court you. His antics were amusing. Watching how dwarves court was quite amusing to a human. Nori would steal you items to show his quick fingers, stealth and skills. He'd steal you things he knew you liked.

♡ He squared up against almost any possible rival and even attempted to square up against Bard to win your approval. But Bard denied him and sent him to shop some wood instead.

♡ He didn't need to go the extra mile though. You felt the same for the sneak-thief. He was kind and funny and considerate. What woman wouldn't fall for him? Once you could finally sit him down for a meal, you expressed your feelings for him.

♡ The next day he made a courting braid and asked to braid it into your hair. You gladly accepted and allowed him to gently brush, wash and dry your hair over the next few hours. After the braid was in, you asked if you could do the same.

♡ And so the two of you spent the next few hours together once again, but this time as you brushed, washed and helped re-tie Nori's hair. It was probably the most memorable day you had in a while and you have always cherished the memory ever since.

♡ One day, when you were feeling just a little self-conscious, you asked how Nori felt about you looking different. Being a human surrounded by dwarves more often now...having two different coloured eyes...adults talking about you behind your back despite children adoring your cool fish hat.

♡ It had all just started to get to you and you didn't know how to handle it.

♡ "Darling, you're perfect to me. I don't care if you have blue hair or pink skin. You being human doesn't change how I feel about you...and neither do your eyes." Nori spoke softly.

♡ "Your eyes are like a sunset that meets the ocean. I've fallen in love with those stunning colours of yours." Nori placed his hand against your cheek and rubbed circles with his thumb as you leaned into his touch. Tears were threatening to spill out of your eyes.

♡ "Never change. For anyone. Please...keep being yourself...even if it's just for me. I love you." Nori pulled you into a soft embrace and let you cry out your feelings for as long as you needed. He meant every word he spoke and wanted desperately to show you in some way.

♡ The next day you woke up to a full breakfast-in-bed meal of all your favourite foods and even a nice hot drink for the cold morning. Nori brought you dark blue flowers with orange centers and orange flowers with dark blue ribbows tying them together. He loved your eyes and he really meant it.

♡ He even brought you a hat stand so you wouldn't lose your fish hats. (You had a slight habit of losing them).

♡ He was sweet and thoughtful when he needed to be. <3

~~~

Oin: (Platonic): (Grey and Light Green)

♡ When most people fall into a fictional world, usually it's their favourite. Most of the time, they're minding their own business and not working a 14-hour hospital shift.

♡ Unfortunately, you didn't conform to the norms of society very often and just had to fall through a magic portal as you finally finished clocking off for the night day. Because it was 4am when you finished work.

♡ So you can imagine the company's surprise when a mysterious figure falls from a strange portal in the sky. And when they get closer the stranger is fully decked out in weird blue clothing (scrubs), with their somewhat short hair neatly out of their face and very worn-through shoes.

♡ As if the person did hours and hours of walking in the same shoes every day.

♡ Which you did do.

♡ You're very lucky Gandalf is a super kind person to bring you with them to camp for the night and to look after you, because when you hit the ground it didn't matter that the fall hadn't knocked you out from the impact.

♡ The minute you were laying down in soft grass with the warm sun shining down on you, you were out like a light. You could've slept through a hurricane, tornado siren and nuclear explosion.

♡ Nothing the company did to make sure you were alive and okay the next day, woke you. All they could do was leave you to Gandalf's care as he carefully rode onward whilst making sure you didn't fall off. And hope you didn't hit your head.

♡ When you did finally wake up, you were hungry as fuck.

♡ You ate any food Bombur made and had three serves of dinner. The company was respectful, but cautious of you. They didn't really trust you until you helped treat Ori and Bombur's cooking burns with cold, creek water and some of Oin's herbs.

♡ After they realized you were a doctor they had so many questions. You happily answered any of their medical questions about the body, brain, organs and anything else.

♡ One of the questions they had was regarding your two different eye colours. "How did that happen?" "Does it just happen, or does an accident cause it?" "Is that an injury?" "Does it hurt?" "Is it annoying?"

♡ You patiently answered each question. "I was born with this. One of my eyes slowly darkened until it stopped at this light green and my other grew lighter in colour each day until it was fully grey." "It can be caused by injury, or an accident. Specifically if the accident or injury involves the eye. If the eye is damaged it may lose some melanin - the colouring - and thus change to a lighter colour. But that is not the case for my eyes."

♡ "No, it doesn't hurt. It feels the same to me as your eyes feel for you. I can see perfectly clear and it causes no issues. It isn't annoying, I'm already used to it when I look into mirrors or my water's reflection."

♡ The younger dwarves were especially in awe of your eyes. Despite the whole group growing to like you and come to you for medical aide, Oin especially took a liking to you. He was fascinated by such a young person knowing so much about medicine.

♡ He took you under his wing in this world and taught you all about the different herbs, mushrooms, medieval medicines and other treatments or small surgeries they were capable of performing.

♡ You absorbed all the information quite quickly like a sponge which further impressed the older healer.

♡ When Oin was sleeping early at night, or just resting in general, you would take over as the go-to-medic for the dwarves when they got a small injury, felt sick, or need medicine - like for sleeping better.

♡ You would also make them cups of tea, maybe a nice soup if most of the company caught a cold from icy, freezing rivers that they swam through.

♡ Even though the group wasn't sure about you at first, they really came to appreciate you in their times of need. Especially after the battle for Erebor. If it wasn't for your expert medical knowledge and quick fighting and thinking; Fili, Kili and Thorin (respectively) would've died from their terrible wounds.

♡ They had fought recklessly - though that was mostly Thorin's fault for being foolish - but thanks to your knowledge on healing and stitching, the three recovered quickly and in just a couple weeks they were back up on their feet.

♡ You kept a close eye on them; making sure they weren't going to overwork themselves. After the battle and aftermath cleanup was all sorted, Thorin took over the Throne and ruled as King Under the Mountain. He officially made you Oin's assistant and you basically became a 'royal healer'.

♡ Despite the official title, you decided to help anyone who was in need. Especially young children. The children were always fascinated by your eyes. They thought the colours were incredible.

♡ It was so heartwarming when they'd come back just to give you a drawing they did of you. You decided to set up a picture wall to hang all the lovely drawings. Anytime you felt scared, or were sick, you'd look up at the wall and remember how sweet and brave those kids were.

♡ Oin made sure you never overworked, got proper sleep and meals and he also taught you dwarven sign language so you could treat deaf and hard of hearing patients like Oin, or Bifur.

~~~

Bombur: (Romantic): (Dark Brown with Yellow around one eyes' center)

♡ You were a great cook and fighter. When the spiders of Mirkwood became a massive problem, you were put onto a patrol team that did two rounds around the borders of the forest each day.

♡ After that, you worked hard to make lunch and dinner with the other chefs and cooks. Great feasts for celebrations and small feasts to sing songs around fires with.

♡ So one day when you were preparing a great feast for another fun celebration, a border patrol lead by the Prince of Mirkwood arrived with a large group of dwarves who had been found wandering aimlessly off the path.

♡ You didn't think much of it until they escaped and caused great havoc with their unorthodox exit out of Mirkwood: riding in empty wine barrels out of the backdoor from palace, exiting through the back gate.

♡ Orcs then attacked the dwarves and elves whilst the elves attempted to keep the dwarves from escaping further and the orcs from causing more damage. You watched all this from a distance, killing off the few orcs that attempted to get inside the building.

♡ You couldn't keep track of how much time passed after that, but soon an army of elves were called to arms by the King. Everyone gathered in their armour, grabbing their weapons and standing out the door waiting for further instructions.

♡ You had joined the army, ready to fight against the dwarves that had recently reconquered Erebor. It was for the simple matter of helping the Laketown people who had called for aide since the dragon attack burned down their town.

♡ There were carts of supplies you would all bring to the people who were currently taking refuge in Dale.

♡ The walk to Dale with all the supplies took quite a little while, but when you arrived and saw all the wounded, sick and how desperate everyone was for food - the trip was worth it. Once the King talked with the head of the group and figured out what had happened, he then handed out the supplies.

♡ All the elves got to work: helping the injured and sick with their knowledge of medicine, handing out food, blankets, water and more. You got to work cooking up a massive pot of soup with vegetables and some meat for everyone to have a serving of, as was requested of you.

♡ That was the main reason you were there helping. Your aide in battle was secondary, helping the people was your primary mission.

♡ When the battle began, you did your best to fight off the orc invasion in Dale. There was no reason for you to be fighting up front at the front gate of Erebor when there was a serious battle just at your own feet.

♡ Defending children and the elderly during all the chaos was the most difficult part of the battle. You had to make sure that, whilst they fought and laid finishing blows, they were not hit unaware by orcish archers.

♡ Once the battle was won and the war was over, it was time to help with the aftermath. Burying the dead, tending to the injured, cooking up pots of soup, or stew, for everyone and handing out bread, water and other necessary materials or foods for people to sustain themselves.

♡ The dwarves were allies at this point and did their best to right their wrongs. There was an especially friendly dwarf who came up beside you one evening with more vegetables and meat - exactly what you requested from the dwarves for the next meal - and he even helped you cook it all up.

♡ He knew some herbs that you had never seen before and you taught him some elvish cooking that made food taste more tender and juicy - it was wine, but don't tell the kids.

♡ Over time you got to know your new fellow chef, 'Bombur'. You two spent the next couple weeks cooking food for the hungry masses until everyone had food supplies and shelter to stay at in Dale. Repairs to houses took a while, but once most of the major houses were done for food storage and temporary shelter, you were relieved of duty.

♡ Despite that, whilst the King finished up his business with the dwarven king, Thorin, you continued to hang out with Bombur. Sitting around campfires, cooking smaller meals together, trading jokes, stories, adventures and tales. You grew quite fond of the dwarf.

♡ When it came time for you to return to the palace with the King Thranduil, you promised to write to Bombur and he promised the same.

♡ And you both kept your words.

♡ You sent letters back and forth for many months and occasionally visited the dwarf for special celebrations where he asked for your aide in cooking - an excuse to spend an evening with you.

♡ Many years later, after five full years of courting each other, you both got married and lived together in Erebor. The King Thranduil did not mind your choice in love and wished you luck on your journey.

♡ The King Thorin accepted you fully as another good chef in the kingdom and made sure a feast was prepared for your wedding so you and Bombur could relax and simply enjoy the day together.

♡ Another couple years passed. You were all sitting at a table enjoying a couple beers when Bofur spoke up, teasing Bombur. "Still can't believe you managed to find and romance such a beautiful lady, Bombur. I mean, her unique eye colours," He gestured to your central heterochromia, "...her stunning hair, glowing skin, incredible cooking, gosh Bombur, you're so lucky. I hope I find a pretty wife soon too.." He sighed, taking another swig of his fifth beer.

♡ The alcohol must've been hitting him, so you merely comforted the tired dwarf. "I'm sure there's someone out there waiting for you too, Bofur." You chuckled. "Right, Bombur?"

♡ Bombur was staring at you intensely when you turned to him.

♡ "Bombur?" You tried again, waving a hand in front of his face. "Erebor to Bombur, attention Bombur." You teased. He leaned in closer and you were expecting a kiss, but he hesitated and maintained strict eye-contact.

♡ "Your eyes are slightly different colours!!" He announced excitedly. There was a moment of surprise and silence until the whole table was roaring with laughter.

♡ "You only just now noticed?? We've been married two years!! Courted for five years!! Knew each other for many years before that, how did you not see this?" You gasped.

♡ "I never really took a good look at that...I assumed it was the same in both eyes...I thought it was candlelight most days." He admitted quietly. His whole face was red at this point, so you pinched his cheeks and gave him a quick kiss.

♡ "Darling, I love you! But for Mahal's sake, dear..."

♡ "I know...I'm sorry, love." He shyly offered you his food as an apology and sign of love.

♡ How he didn't notice for all those years remained a damn mystery in your mind. But that was okay, because he was a bit silly, but very sweet.

~~~

Gloin: (Platonic): (Orange and Black)

♡ When you were just a young dwarf, you got separated from your family and lost in a busy marketplace.

♡ Your parents went to look at jewelry whilst you looked at some well made toys and trinkets for children. By the time you were finished looking around...it was too late. You had completely forgotten where they said they were going to be.

♡ You started running around, ducking under people's bags and trays, darting between people and dodging their legs and arms.

♡ Whether it was by fate, luck or chance, when you started to give up your search; sitting down on a stone bench crying, Gloin walked past and noticed your small presence.

♡ He set his groceries down and sat beside you. "What's the matter, lad?" He asked softly, rubbing your back as you desperately tried to sob out coherent words.

♡ But Gloin had a child already and didn't have to spend too long decoding your gibberish to understand you lost your parents and were all alone in distress.

♡ "Aw, that's alright, laddie. Come along, I'll help you find your parents. Hold my hand so you don't get lost and let's go have a look, okay? I'm sure they're looking for you too." He gave you a soft smile and led you back into the centre of the bustling marketplace.

♡ He was correct - your parents had been worried sick looking for you. You apologized and hugged them. They were so relieved and grateful they invited Gloin, his wife and child all to dinner that evening and Gloin happily accepted.

♡ They shared their home address with him and let you two say goodbye before they headed home. You had such a big day, you needed a bath and snack before dinner.

♡ After that fateful day, Gloin and his family had remained good friends with your family and you would play with Gimli quite often. Hide and Seek, I Spy, Tag, you name it - y'all played it.

♡ Gloin would join in too with your own father! It was so much fun running around and squealing when they jumped out from the shadows with a "Boo!"

♡ Gloin was basically an Uncle figure to you. Constant visits, birthday celebrations and presents, babysitting you and Gimli when your parents went on a date night.

♡ And the same with your parents babysitting Gimli so Gloin could treat his love to a nice date night!

♡ When you became a teenager and started an apprenticeship in smithing, you slowly became self-conscious of your eye colours. This was an unusual feeling. Doubt? But also guilt perhaps?

♡ Like a spiraling feeling in your stomach...like your eye colours made you different. Made you stand out...and you felt guilty for it.

♡ You couldn't figure out what was wrong. What went wrong. Spending so many years feeling accepted by Gloin, your family, his family - especially Gimli. None of them even mentioned your heterochromia.

♡ They didn't point it out as if it was a major characteristic of yours, a defining feature, or trait. They always pointed out your creativity, your energetic and bubbly personality.

♡ But since starting the apprenticeship and working alongside other apprentices - they started pointing out how strange, or "different" or "weird" your eyes looked.

♡ These thoughts and confusing feelings kept you up at night. But you didn't dare mention it to anyone. This was a new and strange feeling that you still couldn't put into words.

♡ It felt a little silly that you felt guilty for something you were naturally born with. You couldn't explain how strange that feeling was.

♡ There must've been a noticeable change in your demeanor, however, as everyone started being extra doting and sweeter to you at home.

♡ This went on for months until one day you were sitting outside with Gloin and he asked how you had been feeling recently. "Since starting the apprenticeship." And that's when you broke down into tears.

♡ That small, slightly concerned, question was the final blow to your constant turmoil.

♡ "Aw, lad. I thought you looked a little down recently. Come here, it's okay...shhh...it's all going to be alright, laddie." Gloin hushed, rubbing circles on your back whilst hugging you.

♡ Once you had let out all your pent up emotions, you felt like you could explain how you felt to him. You told him how the other apprentices' comments had been making you feel.

♡ How you felt guilty, doubtful, unconfident, different...the list went on. Gloin didn't interrupt you the entire time you spoke. He simply listened and occasionally nodded. Until you had let all your thoughts out.

♡ You felt embarrassed for breaking down so fast, but Gloin spoke up. "I'm sorry you've been feeling like this for so long, lad." He sighed. "Maybe your eyes are different colours. And maybe you stand out a bit because of that...but that doesn't outshine the rest of you."

♡ "Y'know, everyone starts to feel like that when life gets strange, or difficult. And that's okay. What you've got to remember is the talents you possess. Your skill at crafting things, is who you truly are. The person you want to be - aspire to be! That's who you are. Your appearance will change with time. You might start to go blind...your hair will turn white, but what truly matters is what you do until then."

♡ "If you take their unthoughtful comments to heart, you might miss what's right in front of you by dwelling on how 'different' you feel. Focus on the present, laddie. Focus on this apprenticeship and show those apprentices what true skill and talent looks like! And when you show 'em up and prove their comments useless...well, I hope to be there...standing behind you - watching you shine."

♡ Gloin gave you a big bear hug and ruffled your hair a bit. "Alright, kid." He stood up with a grin. "All these feelings are exhausting and you must be hungry by now. After all, you're still growing." He chuckled and helped you to your feet.

♡ "Let's go get some dinner." The talk you had with him had really helped. You took his advice and ignored what other's said, unless it was advice or about your creations. You were passionate about your creations.

♡ You learned to make lots of different things. From swords and maces, to necklaces and rings. Eventually, you aced the apprenticeship and continued to work at the forge shop - selling your creations and accepting new challenges everyday.

♡ And if you ever had another bad day like that again...Gloin was right there for you - making sure you got back up to your feet and never gave up your passions and dreams.

♡ You were forever glad to Mahal for such an amazing friend.

~~~ The End ~~~

#the hobbit #x reader #thorin's company #fanfiction #heterochromia reader #fluff #headcanons

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