#He literally vanished OVER A YEAR AGO

[is-that-sand-in-my-waffles]

commander cody save me

commander cody

save me commander cody

[queers-gambit]

The Risk

part one: Match Made in Grey Haven

prompt: after your wedding, you and Elrond embark on your honeymoon touring Middle-earth. your company is attacked on the road by Orcs. help comes from an old friend.

pairing: Elrond x shy!female!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 7.1k+

note: internet researched Elven wedding customs, i don't want to hear it. keep the Elrond requests coming.

warnings: pre events of TROP, the "shyness" more so conveys as inexperience, romance, little bit of fluff, Gil-galad is a girl's girl, and Elven weddings! also cursing! violence! angst! character injury! Orcs! blood! literal hurt and comfort! emotions are hard! abrupt but happy ending, not edited, wonky brain went wonky, and intentionally misspelled words to indicate accent.

You spent a year and a half planning your wedding.

Due to your status amongst the Elves and their court, it was declared the event of the century and the High King himself demanded it be planned to the highest of exquisite detail. Granted, you and Elrond were content to marry in a quicker fashion, leaving it between family, but Gil-galad loved a good party and who were you to refuse your King?

So, you spent about 18 months (on and off) in Lindon, going over details and specifics with Gil-galad while Elrond did the King's actual work. You're positive Elrond was content to escape the wedding planning and honestly, you didn't mind as much as you feared you would because the King was opinionated, decently funny, and decisive. He spared no expense. He encouraged you to branch away from your usual humble taste. He wanted the whole of Elvendom to come together to celebrate. He wanted this occasion to be...his.

You had no objections.

You were honestly relieved someone else wanted to plan such an extraordinary event for you - but were beyond you ready to be married! Several times in the last several months, Elrond actually offered to elope - run away to the Gray Havens and marry before your beloved grandfather, Elrond's old master, Círdan - but the King was putting so much effort into your wedding, you didn't accept. It was nice, though, how mutually anxious Elrond appeared to be to marry you, too.

However, the past three moons, you've been absolutely inconsolable. Your wedding was only days away, Elrond had traveled to Eregion for "business" months ago, and Círdan had yet to arrive! You felt overwhelming panic consume your very being, becoming slightly more irritable as you couldn't help but feel (wrongfully) abandoned - should it not of been for your best mate, fellow Elleth, Bôril. She held your emotions in check, posed as buffer between you and emotional ruin, and was the voice of reason when your rationality vanished.

"What if something happened?" You worried during one of your late night, last minute sessions. "How would we know? What if - while traveling - something went awry?"

Gil-galad sighed gently, "Herald Elrond was sent with some of my most trusted warriors."

"Elrond is warrior enough by himself," Bôril smirked, "you worry for nothing - "

"I am supposed to get married in a matter of days and neither my grandfather nor my intended can be found. I think I have plenty to worry over!" Gil-galad and Bôril shared a knowing look while you wiped your face clear of frustrating fear. "I am not accustomed to not knowing. It's this unknown, the lack of answers that pushes me towards insanity."

"Well," Bôril smirked, her eyes casted towards the hall, "fear no longer, sweet friend, all your answers approach."

In confusion, you turned in the seat you had been slumped in, seeing Elrond and Círdan heading down the hall towards the room you were gathered in. With a gasp, you leapt from your chair and rushed into the causeway towards your dearest loved ones. "Thank the Valar! Elrond!" You gasped first, flinging yourself into his arms; which coiled around you tightly and lifted you, his face burying in your neck. "My love - where were you? What happened - why the delay?" Your voice cracked as your whispered, "You said you'd be only 6 weeks, you were gone twice that! I was so worried!"

"I'm so sorry for worrying you, my star," he whispered back; breath hot in your ear. "I'll explain it all," he promised, lowering you back to your feet to pull back only to instantly take your cheeks in his hands. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I promise, it was for a good reason," he told you softly, thumbs sweeping over the apples of your cheeks; then glancing over pointedly at your grandfather.

"And you!" You scolded playfully. "We expected you weeks ago! Yet you sent no word!"

"We were delayed," Círdan smirked, approaching you as Elrond released his hold; confirming they were together this time. "C'mere, sweet one," he chuckled, bringing you in for a tight embrace. After releasing, he gently tapped the button of your nose, "I am here now, ready to help where I can."

"Oh, please," you chuckled, taking a half-step closer to your betrothed, "there's nothing left to be done, our generous King has planned it all for us. I'm just relieved you are both safe."

Elrond smiled and wrapped his arm around your waist, bringing you in to place a sweet peck on your cheek. "Come," your fiancé encouraged, and when you reentered the planning chambers, you realized others had followed you in.

Evidently, Elrond had gone to Eregion on "business", yes, but it was personal. He had gifted you a ring to symbolize your engagement; modest, silver, simple, gorgeous, and so perfectly "Elrond" - but he wasn't satisfied with it, apparently. As per Elven customs, the engagement rings would be exchanged at the ceremony for wedding bands, and Elrond was determined to give you something extravagant - to prove his adoration. So, he went to Eregion and forged with the Greatest of the Elven Smiths, Lord Celebrimbor, a wedding ring he thought suitable for your finger. Círdan met them to aid in the creation of this gorgeous ring Elrond crafted - insisting you couldn't see it until the ceremony. The trio also crafted Elrond a matching wedding ring that would only accentuate yours; another show of his devotion to you.

Hence their collective delay. Lord Celebrimbor arrived with them, greeting you with mirth; truly excited and honored to have been involved with your wedding band creation.

You were just relieved everyone finally safe and gathered in Lindon. That night, you laid in bed with Elrond; deflated by relief, just staring at him, hand on his cheek, caressing his flesh. "Next time, send word if you're to be late," you requested in a whisper.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, "we were so focused, purely driven by creating something that you'll have forever - we lost track of so much time."

"How many rings did you make?"

"Too many. Though, Celebrimbor will have now options to gift others."

You both snickered, sighing with contentment. Then you whispered, "I fear I might owe a few people an apology..."

"Why? What happened?"

"I was... Operating on a short fuse while worried about you. Might've gotten a little snappy."

"You were rude?" He gasped comically. "I didn't know you even knew how to be."

"Hush," you breathed, leaning closer, "I was worried."

"But I'm here now," he promised, hand to your neck encouraging you to kiss him.

After that, the days passed in a breeze, as if a collective sigh of relief had been heaved by all of Lindon.

And then, the morning of your wedding finally arrived and it was like chaos struck. You never knew, but apparently, outside the chambers you used to prepare in, Gil-galad had everyone rushing around to perfect final details; prepare food, set tables, water and arrange flowers, retrieve whatever was requested by other guests. However, you were none the wiser (as he intended), being fretted over by all types of Elves who were impassioned to make you and your day as flawless as possible.

The High King ensured Elrond was taken care of, the young Herald quiet and seemingly concentrated on his thoughts; lips moving without words, repeating his vows to himself silently. Before it could've been questioned, Círdan arrived with a velveteen jewelry box; appearing ready for the day's events, as if awake for hours.

"Here," Círdan smiled, shooing away the attendants so he could sit beside Elrond, "this is for you, my boy."

"My Lord?" Elrond questioned softly, accepting the gift.

"It's customary."

"What is?" He wondered, opening the lid and revealing a gorgeous, glimmering broach. "Lord Círdan - "

"It's custom for the bride's mother to gift her new son-in-law a gem to be worn as a boastful show of the joining of two families," the craftsman explained. "This... This sapphire belonged to my daughter, and now, I'd like you to have it."

"I don't think I could accept - "

"It is customary," Gil-galad stepped in, seeing the refusal ready on Elrond's tongue.

So, Elrond swallowed his nerves and nodded to Círdan, "Thank you, my Lord. This stone is... Beyond words, surely, only it's previous owner could rival it's beauty."

The tears were bright in Círdan's eyes the rest of the day.

Due to the lack of conventional family, the ceremony was kept between only the High King Gil-galad as officiant and Círdan as witness. The King had designated a private overlook for your ceremony, standing at the cliffside under the golden glow of the Great Tree with Elrond in fine velvet tunics; gorgeous sapphire glittering on his chest, keeping his father's cloak in place as his own special tribute. Just as the sky turned heavenly, sun in position to set, Círdan began to lead you down the pathway - towards your forever.

Elrond choked on air, tears slowly filling his eyes.

You were draped in the finest of silks, a thin veil covering your face; hair in long ringlets, pinned back from your face in an elegant updo. It was like the Light of Valinor itself was shining through you, nearly blinding Elrond with sheer bliss. It was almost as if time slowed, nearly stilling completely; as if your form was moving in slow motion. Even under the sheer veil, Elrond could see your grin and suddenly, he couldn't hear, see, smell, feel anything but your love and light.

With a gentle sniffle, Elrond glanced at Gil-galad, who was beaming with pride already; his own growing, which nobody realized was even possible. Upon approach, Elrond instantly met you at the base of the stone stairs; watching Círdan give a watery smile while hugging you sweetly. He pulled back, gently lifted the veil to flip over your head, and sighed while caressing both cheeks.

In Sindarin, he whispered, "They'd be so proud of the woman you've become... And the man you're marrying. Just as I am."

Now, Elrond choked on his emotion.

"Thank you for everything," you managed to whisper, your grandfather sighing gently before guiding your hand from his into Elrond's. He joined Gil-galad on the platform, both watching proudly as Elrond was at a loss for words - only able to look you up and down.

Finally, he breathed in Sindarin, "Gorgeous."

Before the Elven High King and under your grandfather's loving eye, you and Elrond exchanged vows during sunset. It was intimate and private, either of you slipping your engagement rings off as Círdan presented your wedding bands. You gasped when you saw the ring Elrond crafted for the first time, looking at him with wide eyes, voice gentle as you asked, "You made this?"

"I did."

"For... Me?"

Elrond smiled, "Of course. A wife as beautiful as you deserves a ring that could only strive to embody your shine."

"Don't make me scold you for being so cheesy on our wedding day, my love, please," you giggled, Elrond chuckling while he took your hand to splay before him. He slid the ring onto your index finger, allowing you to do the same with his matching band. Neither of you were able to contain your glee when Gil-galad pronounced you officially as man and wife - Elrond all but lunging forward to hold your cheeks, swooping in to sear your lips with his kiss. You were just as excited, holding onto his biceps to keep him close; feeling warmth swell and burst in your chest as you realized... You were finally married.

After, at the feast Gil-galad had planned, the whole of Lindon was decorated and celebrating your union; hosts of food on long banquet tables, live bands entertaining the crowds, lanterns and candles glowing, conversation turning boisterous as Elves indulged on the castes of wine gifted or collected by the King.

Who, if you were wondering, was hosting the entire affair and having a splendid time as Bôril danced with Camnir - seemingly to Vorohil's chagrin, which Elrond pointed out to you first.

You were just happy to bask in your husband's glory; unable to believe he was yours, that you get to spend your life with him, that you were bound together. He seemed... Youthful in this setting; a young lad that was forced to grow up too quickly, finally able to appreciate the attention directed at him while gracefully accepting words of congratulations everywhere he turned. It was so simple, something decently mundane, but you found it impressive; the way Elrond could accept conversation from just anyone.

It simply intimidated you; content with your written letters and accounts, never truly needing to interact with people on this level. You were better, not quite as shy as before, but old habits die hard and overcoming social anxiety was a lifelong profession. Speaking of, your anxiety spiked from the sheer number of attendants, but Elrond was both sword and shield - intercepting people left and right, saving you from any "on the spot" moments.

The party went deep into the night, and while it was a fun time - complete with Bôril challenging the High King to a silly drinking game, Celebrimbor teaching the steps to an old dance, and Vorohil getting shot down by several Elleths - you were beyond exhausted. Perhaps you didn't hide it as well as you thought because Elrond slid into his empty seat and instantly leaned into your ear to ask, "All right, love?"

"Hmm? Yeah, 'course," you answered, setting the glass of First Age wine (a gift from Celebrimbor) aside to focus on him. Gently caressing his chin, you asked, "You all right?"

"Perfect, actually, just look at my wife," he mused, "though, you look tired, my star."

You hummed, "Can't fool you, can I?"

"It's my job now," he chuckled, letting you lean in gleefully to peck his lips. "How about we slip away? Hm?" He whispered softly, glancing around dramatically - like he was conducting a secret mission.

"Yes, please," you hissed, both snickering lightly. Like a couple of randy youths, you stood with the gifted First Age bottle, hands tangled together, 'sneaking' away to your rooms; thinking you were pulling it off, being so sneaky.

"Oh, bless their hearts, look. Look! I love those idiots," Bôril giggled to the King, "they're so obvious! Look at them go!"

"They're in loooove," Gil-galad teased, refilling his goblet.

"Guess they just can't wait to consummate their marriage, huh? Good for Elrond," Camnir snickered, freezing when Círdan's blank stare registered. "I-I'm so sorry, my Lord, I did not - I misspoke - I didn't think you, uh... I'm sorry."

Círdan just groaned lightly, his friend, Lord Celebrimbor, leaning over to top off his glass and encourage it closer to him; patting his shoulder in sympathy. Bôril and Gil-galad truly tried to hold back, but the scene was truly comical to witness and the two laughed so hard, they ended up leaning on each other and slumping in their chairs.

The party continued without you and Elrond, but it's safe to say, you were engaged in a party of your own.

"You've been quiet, love," you noted softly, one hand held tightly by Elrond's, the other holding your horse's reins; walking to give them a break on this leg of the journey. For weeks, you've been on the road together, touring Middle-earth as part of your honeymoon.

Never having been anywhere other than the Gray Havens and Lindon, you were like a new born fawn in the wilderness - but it was exhilarating to travel.

"Hmm?"

"You're pensive," you amended.

"I am simply in thought, my star, nothing of concern," Elrond assured.

"You're sullen."

"I don't mean to be," he sighed.

"What's troubling you?"

Elrond was quiet for a long moment, stepping carefully as neither of you noticed thick, dark clouds beginning to fill the sky. Finally, he admitted quietly, "We are not far from Khazad-dûm."

You hummed in understanding, then pondered while stepping around overgrown tree roots, "Remind me why we did not extend Prince Durin a wedding invitation?"

"We did," Elrond informed, sighing deeply, "he just... Did not respond..."

"That does not sound like him, based on your account."

"No, it was truly... Odd," Elrond admitted, "perhaps being why I feel strange being close to his kingdom now."

"Do you wish to visit?"

"We don't have the time - "

"We can make time, Elrond," you insisted, squeezing his hand with a grin. "And as far as anyone is concerned, the great Dwarven Kingdom of Khazad-dûm is part of Middle-earth, and therefor, part of our tour. I'd like to meet your friend, my sweet. Now, which direction?"

"We don't have time, starlight, we are expected by Lord - "

But Elrond came to a sudden halt, pulling you into his side as both your horses stamped and whinnied loudly; tossing their heads and snorting, the whites of the eyes flashing as ears flattened as they suddenly stopped in place. You flinched into your husband's side, the horses restless, guards circling around the pair of you quickly. Darkness descended.

"What is it?" You asked in concerned confusion.

"Something is amiss," Elrond rushed, looking confused and concentrated. "I-I do not know what, but the shadow has stretched. C'mere, mount up, my love, quickly, please."

"My Lord," Vorohil, one of your guards and a friend to your husband, directed his horse between yours while Elrond ensured you were safely seated, "there's a darkness to the path ahead, the horses - they are refusing to go forward. It grows darker, my Lord."

You had to reseat yourself as Elrond mounted; the horses backing away as there sounded a ghostly moan from the woods surrounding you.

"This darkness?" Elrond repeated, "Where did it come from? 'Tis midday - "

"Look around us!" Vorohil barked, Elrond sending him a sharp look before looking up - realizing there seemed to be a sort of dark cloud covering the sun, your path, and the woods surrounding you.

You gasped when there came a sudden, horrendous, guttural screech in an echo, making it impossible to locate the origin; and suddenly, a force bodied into your side. It knocked you from your horse, but due to the sudden nature of the attack, also took your beast down with you.

You were lucky your leg didn't shatter on impact.

You heard Elrond scream your name; body hitting the dirt and rolling a few feet before being halting by a boulder. Your sight cleared, evened out, gasping again and shoving yourself against the jagged rock in an attempt to create distance when you saw the horrid, gangly creature made of pure, tangible darkness - pure evil - muddy and growling while surging towards you with gnashing teeth.

A sword decapitated the creature before it could reach you, making you flinch at the show of violence. Your name was spoken in a rush, but you couldn't comprehend hearing words yet; staring at the dead creature, twitching from the severed nervous system at your feet - spewing black blood. Your eyes caught sight of it splattered up your skirt.

Boots hit the ground, a pair of hands caressing both your cheeks and making you gasp in panic. But Elrond's worried face was in front of yours, speaking soothingly in Sindarin, "Easy, easy, be calm, it's me, my love, it's just me. I'm so sorry, but we have to go - now, my love, please, get up for me, come with me - "

"My Lord!"

"Elrond!"

Elrond was forced to stand over you and use his bloody blade to defend you both; choking back tears as you realized this was an ambush by Orcs, creatures of pure hate; something Middle-earth thought extinct after not having been seen in an age. And you were defenseless.

"NO!" You gasped when a hand came around your throat, hoisting back into the boulder; holding you in place as two Orcs ravaged your body for anything of value they could've taken. When they tried taking your wedding ring, you fought back harder - struggling in their putrid arms, sobbing, trying to stave them off. "ELROND!" You begged, gagging when the hand around your throat constricted to close your airway.

"Just cut the bloody thing off!"

You whimpered when you were overpowered, hand flattened to the rock forcefully; fingers spread, the Orcs snarling as a dagger was brandished and stabbed directly into the boulder through your pointer finger.

"Y/N!" Vorohil was heard struggling, your cries muffled from the lack of air and tight hand. The gem-glittering belt you wore was yanked from your waist just as the Orc holding you hostage was ripped away, making the other react by stabbing your lung with his dagger between your ribs.

After Elrond killed the first Orc, he instantly engaged the second; only Vorohil catching sight of you freezing before slowly collapsing against the boulder and sliding down it. He noted the smear of blood you left on the rock before the blade protruding from your ribcage.

You were in shock. The pain was insurmountable, yet you felt nothing at the same time. Numb. Confused. Overwhelmed. Paralyzed.

The fighting lasted several long minutes after that, your dress now properly saturated as you knew enough survival skills to not pull the blade free of an injury; it acted as a plug to keep the blood from pouring OUT of your body. You were left on the ground, slumped, weakly holding your wound and feeling unable to react when an Orc leered closer to you.

Elrond's blade emerged from the Orc's chest and was yanked free, the body dropping to reveal your husband; bloodied, panting, caught off guard, but obviously fairing well enough. He was in the heat of the moment, battle turning his blood hot, eyes catching something glittering in the mud and only thinking how out of place it looked. When he blinked, Elrond realized it was your wedding ring - complete with your severed finger still in it.

Elrond snatched the digit from the mud, eyes raking over you, needing to do a double look when he realized the extent of your injuries. Your finger was lost but your ring was secured in your husband's belt.

"No," he whimpered, rushing forward and dropping his sword to take hold of your cheek; blood gently leaking from your nose at a slow but steady pace. "No, no, no, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, stay with me, stay awake for me," he begged, sniffling emotion as his other hand laid over yours around the dagger's handle, "just let me see, let me see the damage, my love, c'mon, I've got you. I need to see to help."

You were too weak to fight him anyways, letting his muddy hand pry yours away to reveal the weeping wound. His eyes widened, nodding as he assessed the situation; wanting to get you out of here, but the Orcs weren't yet vanquished.

In fact, Elrond was tackled off you by another Orc, crying out when the momentum yanked the dagger free. Ironic timing, perhaps, because an injured Orc was clawing at your legs; biting at your flesh; making you grit your teeth, pick up the dagger, and drive it into the Orc's eye. You were relieved when the creature stopped moving; adrenaline instantly draining and making you slump back once more.

You didn't notice when the Orcs were fully killed off until Elrond was propping you up again, sprayed in blood and mud, tears in his warm brown eyes. "No, my starlight, no, you have to stay awake, you must," he reminded, getting one arm around you, the other first laying to your openly bleeding wound, then shoving the dead Orc off your legs. Elrond cursed in Sindarin when he noted the bite marks, how dirty nails left deep streaks after clawing up your body. "Please, stay awake," he hissed, cradling you into his chest before calling out, "Vorohil!"

"My Lord!"

"We need to get her to a healer - where? Where?" He begged, sniffling as you were shifted into his arms and lifted; few surviving horses being wrangled in.

"I don't - I don't know - "

"You are the cartographer!" Elrond snapped, "Tell me where to take her, where are we closest - !?"

"My Lord," Vorohil sighed, "t-the closest civilization to these parts is-is Khazad-dûm - "

"Hurry!" He barked, situating you sideways on his horse before swiftly mounting; settling you into his chest with a secure hold. The others were left in the dirt as Elrond spurred his steed onward, knowing the way to the Great Dwarven Kingdom of Khazad-dûm.

Upon arriving at the gates, he was a frenzied mess. Elrond doesn't even remember the procession of events; he just knows his men showed up at his flank, he was holding your limp body, begging for aid, and someway, somehow, was then lead into the Kingdom's healing quarters.

"Elrond?" A voice questioned softly, a few nurses and healers checking over the remaining company as you were laid on a surgical table. "Is tha'... You?"

He looked over, eyes void, dead, still splattered in the blood and grime of his enemies. "Durin," Elrond whispered.

"What happened?" The Dwarf Prince asked carefully, taking a slow step forward.

"We... We were..." Elrond looked back at you, hating how many healers surrounded you, "We were attacked - just less than a league from here."

"I see. Who... Who attacked you?"

"A pack of Orcs," he whispered, stumbling back into a wall as his breathing turned ragged, "while we were on the road."

"She's not breathing!" It was announced, Elrond sliding to the floor as horror struck his face. Panic seized his heart, short circuited his brain.

"Elrond?" Durin worried, Disa rushing into the room after him. "Hey? Can yah hear me?" The ginger asked, hand to Elrond's shoulder. "Elrond? Elrond, can yah - "

"I need help! Hold here! She's bleeding!"

"I can't see the wound - cut the corset!"

" - the finger's been lost - "

"She's got bruising on her neck, help me save her windpipe!"

Elrond's breathing became erratic, knees pulling into his chest as his men stood firm in support. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, Durin asking his name again, then, "Who is she?"

"M-My wife - she's my wife, Durin, she's my wife - "

"Okay, okay, okay," Durin comforted, kneeling to the ground at Elrond's side; keeping themselves separate as Disa neared them slowly. Durin shot her a look, silently saying 'close enough', and she stopped - heart aching for the devastation on the Elf's face.

"What's this? An Elf!?" Another Dwarf was heard barking.

"We do not deny aid!" A different Healer Dwarf barked, quickly shedding your dress and revealing your wounds to the room; making a few avert their eyes and hiss as ebony poison had taken to the veins around the wound.

"Do what needs done!" Durin barked, "To save her life! Use any means necessary!"

"You heard your Prince!"

"C'mon," Disa encouraged the Elves, "we should let the Healers work, we do not want to get in their way."

"Is there... Somewhere we can wait, nearby?" Vorohil asked nervously, glancing at you, who was being fussed over as blood splattered onto the ground; wound raging, blood covering your side as they seemed to aggravate the wound in order to clean it of the infection. "What if they need us?" Vorohil whispered.

"We have somewhere close-by for yah's," Disa assured. "Durin?" She asked, "Perhaps Elrond would like t'wait with us?"

"We'll be along," he agreed, knowing Elrond was like a rock in that moment. Disa lead the others away, leaving Durin to sigh and take a seat beside Elrond; just watching the Healers at work. "So, uh, how long yeh been married?"

"We... We sent you, um, a, uh..."

"Oh, right, yeah, yeah, of course. So... Only a couple months, then?"

"Seems like no time at all."

Durin chuckled, "Nah, two months in? You's two are still in that blissful state."

"And when it ends?"

"Oh, yeh'll see, married life becomes all yah know." Durin sighed, hating himself but needing to ask, "What happened to her, Elrond?"

The Elf shook his head, the tears never ending; suffocating him. "The horses," he managed to choke out.

"What of 'em?"

Elrond gulped. "They picked up on it first - that's what I noticed. They didn't want to go down the path, then this sort of darkness came... It was quick... It happened so quick, Durin, I did not - I did not see nor hear them. We were unprepared."

"What else?" Durin was unusually soft.

Elrond shook his head, "I got her on her horse, something didn't feel right. I thought - I just thought to get her out of there, get to safety - you know?"

"Just in case?"

"Yes. But the darkness - it brought them, let them move in the daylight. They tackled her from her horse - I tried to get to her. I swear, Durin, I tried, but it was all so fast - I didn't even see her get hurt. I just found her like that, holding on. What kind of husband can't even defend his own wife? By the end... She was... She wasn't..."

Elrond melted into sobs, folding in on himself, Durin's frown deep and concerning. Despite his own feelings of malcontent towards his old friend, he reached out and let his arm wrap around Elrond's neck. This allowed the Elf to lean into the Dwarf's neck and absolutely lose his shit. Not like anyone heard him, though; the Healers all yelling over one another as they rushed around in an effort to pull the blackened poison from your body.

You don't remember much. Just pain.

Then you remember voices. They were all around you, yet hazy; like you were underwater.

You remember smells - like alcohol and disinfectant.

You remember warmth in your hand; a weight, a constant presence that you squeezed when you felt ready to open your eyes. The twilight had passed, you were awake, a soothing voice cooing and encouraging you back into reality. It was just hard to pull yourself out of the tarpit your mind was seemingly lost in.

Upon regaining consciousness, you were greeted by Elrond's tearful expression of relief. "My love," he spoke clearly, "can you hear me?" You nodded, trying to open your mouth, but he rushed, "No, no, do not - don't do that, don't try to talk. Save your strength, please. You're okay." You nodded again, watching his watery smile warble before dissolving into sobs. "I thought you wouldn't make it," he admitted through his emotional breakdown, hovering close to you if only to feel your warmth and be assured that blood still pumped freely through your body.

"I had reason to come back," you whispered, earning a stony look of reprimand before he sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

"Here, I have something for you," Elrond sniffled, reaching for his belt, "and I cannot keep it any longer." Your brows furrowed when your husband retrieved a bright gem, quickly realizing it was your wedding ring. Elrond saw your confusion, lifting your hand to place the ring on your pointer finger - making you lift the other, finding it bandaged with only four fingers. Your head snapped towards Elrond, but he begged, "Please, just rest, my star, you've been through enough - "

"What happened?" You demanded in a gravely voice.

"Do not - "

"Tell me."

Elrond sighed and situated himself at your side, careful not to jostle your form. "Well, first... We are in the Dwarven Kingdom of Khazad-dûm." He descended into the tale of how you lost your ring and obtained further injury, then rushed to get help, being reunited with Prince Durin, and ending on how you've been asleep for 'too long'.

You croaked, "I'd like to thank our hosts..."

"That can wait until you've rested longer. You've been unconscious for days."

"Then I've rested enough."

"I almost lost you," Elrond growled, "you will not move, not until you are cleared to do so. And I have the best authority to ensure you follow the rules."

You chuckled, "Oh?"

Elrond went to answer, but frowned in a panic when you started coughing from the dry prickle in your mouth and throat; quickly fetching the cup of water from the side stand. "Easy, my star, here, carefully, carefully," he whispered, holding the back of your neck, helping you sit up only slightly as to not irritate your abdomen, and tip the cup to your mouth to fill it with cold, fresh water.

"How's our patient doin' today, Elrond?" A voice asked cheerfully, "I'm tellin' yah, I can feel it, she'll be awake in no time, real soon, and then you'll actually sleep - "

"You have not slept!?" You asked sharply, looking to Elrond and noting the contradiction to his flesh; how pale he appeared with dark circles under his eyes, cheeks sunken.

Yes, Elves didn't need sleep like humans or Dwarves, but still, they needed some - and it was evident Elrond had none.

The Dwarf gasped and whirled around to spy you awake and conscious on the stony bed they had layered with fluff, furs, and blankets for your comfort. She dropped the tray of nutrients to another table, looking like she wanted to rush you. "You're awake!" She squealed.

"Disa - "

"DURIN!" She bellowed, hiking up her skirts and rushing from the room, "SHE'S AWKAE! DURIN! DUUURIN!"

You couldn't help the laughter that burst forth, wincing when your side seared in pain - making you choke on air. Elrond muttered to himself in Sindarin, finding a wet cloth and approaching your injury, carefully lifting the thin sheet covering you and peeling the bandage off. You heard Elrond hiss between his teeth, you trying to glance at the mark - but your husband would not let you. "Just stay still, my love," he whispered, "this won't take long, but it might sting - "

You grunted and whimpered when Elrond began soaking your wound; the cold water feeling nice in the hot infection, but making you squirm from discomfort. "Elrond," you begged, hand slapping to his wrist, "please."

"I know, but it needs cleaned - it won't hurt forever, my love."

"Oi," the Dwarf, Disa, snapped as she reentered the room, "get away from there, Elrond, go, go, go, shoo, let me through."

"Disa - "

"No," She now scolded Elrond, pushing him to stand straight and take the cloth from him, "your only job is to be a husband, not Healer - that's my job. You stand over there, hold her hand, and - DURIN!" She suddenly shouted towards the door, where a ginger Dwarf revealed himself sheepishly.

"Oh," you breathed in interest, trying to sit up a little, "Prince Durin, what an honor - "

"Oh, no, no, you don't, lassie, you lay back - just lay back."

"Listen to Disa, starlight," Elrond worried, both their hands reaching out to try to gently encourage you back down.

"It's customary to greet royalty on your feet - "

"Not in yer state, dearie," Disa comforted softly, patting your shoulder; Elrond gently caressing the top of your head. "Just rest - Durin will come to you," She shot her husband a look, who slowly entered the room.

"I just - I want to thank you, Prince Durin," you stuttered, wincing as Disa started tending to your wound again. "For saving me - or saving us, so I hear."

"Ah," Durin cleared his throat, nodding with pursed lips, "'twas nothing, uh, my Lady, we just... Couldn't say no to the state of things."

"Still. Thank you," you breathed. "And for your friendship to Elrond, it's been - "

"Starlight," Elrond quietly discouraged you with a small head shake, looking just as uncomfortable as the ruddy-faced Dwarf.

"What? What's wrong?" You asked, but neither man could meet your eyes. So, you looked to Disa, "What did I say?"

"Oh, you said nothin', dearie; 's just two stubborn mules refusin' to speak of the boulder in the room," she tisked with a small smirk.

"Do you think this boulder has to do with your absence from our wedding? I must admit, I allowed myself to feel excited, thinking we'd finally meet; and was entirely saddened by your lack of attendance."

"I know, sweetling, me too," she assured with a sigh, "but their boulder is truly suffocatin' - prevents them from speakin'."

"Oh-hhhh," you hitched the word to exaggerate, both your husbands stunned into silence by the quickly casual conversation, "so, like most men?"

"Mhm," she hummed sassily. "Friends for decades, Durin even considers Elrond a brother - "

" - So does Elrond - "

" - And yet, the fools cannot bear t'speak few words t'mend the bond! Oh, it's absolutely pigheaded!"

"What exactly needs mending?" You pondered softly. "I thought..." You looked over to see Elrond's head bowed, both hands resting in your single one; looking ashamed. "Elrond?" You asked, squeezing his hand.

"It's nothin' of note anymore, my Lady," Durin stepped in, making your suspicion grow, "just... A little, uh..."

"Distance," Elrond supplied finally, lifting his head and nodding, "our tension stems from a matter of distance."

"Hm," you noted, turning to Disa - who was already offering you a tired, pointed look. "What do you know of this boulder?"

"Oh, aye, it's distance," she nodded, frowning, "some... 20 years of it? Or just about."

"Has it been only 20?" Elrond questioned softly, looking earnestly to his friend; who stiffly looked away, but you saw the cracks in the ginger's foundation.

"'Only'?" You repeated, Disa sending her husband a look. "Prince Durin, my Princess, you must forgive my husband - he can forget how... Long life is. 20 years is a mere blink to an Elf, but to the other races, Elrond, it's a lifetime."

"I did not mean to offend," Elrond told you.

"I know, love, but you speak to the wrong person - I am not the one who deserves to hear your apologies," you said, pointing at Durin with your wedding ring firmly in place.

Elrond agreed and turned to his friend, admitting, "I'm sorry for the offense I've caused. I did not realize so much time had passed." Durin scoffed, Disa growling his name. "Is there more I've done? I do not understand, I have missed my friend - "

"Missed!? Yah missed my weddin'!" Durin snarled in a shout, your head resting on the pillow under your head and deflating in pain as Disa worked to fix one of the stitches.

"You missed ours - "

"And the birth of my children! Two of 'em!" Durin tacked on. "You cannot barge into my mountain and demand I welcome you with open arms! You cannot claim that which you discarded! I did yah this favor because of the obvious threat to life, and I comforted you in the wake of yer wife's injury! I ignored my own woes and bygones because that was the decent thing t'do! I mean," he chuckled without humor, "even when yeh wrong me and refuse to even take ownership - accountability - for yer wrongdoings, I still comfort yah!"

"'Discarded'? 'Refuse to take'..." Elrond repeated, "Durin, I - "

"It's as yer wife said!" Durin growled, "20 years might be the blink of an eye to an Elf... But I've lived an entire life in that time!" Emotion caked Durin's tone. "A life you missed! So, yeah, yeh know what? We missed yer weddin', yeah... But you've missed the past 20 years..." There came an awkward sort of silence, the group stewing in their tension. The Dwarven Prince scoffed a couple times as Elrond processed his words, asking with attitude, "So what do yah have t'say to that... 'Friend'?"

You smirked gently as Elrond did not respond, instead slowly approaching his friend as if a skittish, injured deer. Slowly, in a fluid movement, Elrond laid his hand to Durin's shoulder, squeezing as he spoke with sincerity, "Congratulations." Disa laid her hand in your bandaged one, both smiling as she paused her cleaning session to watch and listen. "On your wife, your children," Elrond elaborated. He slowly retracted his hand, "And thank you for your help, the aid that saved my wife's life. Thank you for comforting me, too; I hope you can come to forgive me."

You cleared your throat, the two turning to find their wives watching them smugly. "I think you might owe someone else an apology, my love," you whispered.

"Disa - "

"Don't even," she beamed, "yer already forgiven."

"Ah, don't let him off easy," Durin grumbled.

"His wife almost died in front of him, I think that's reparation enough."

Durin paused for a long moment, then nodded, "Yeah, all right, fair enough."

"Now," Disa announced, standing, "I think the Lady's wound is as good as it'll get for now - it's up to you for the rest of the healing," she patted your shoulder.

"On the morrow, we shall - "

"Oh, no, you mistake me," Disa smirked to Elrond, "there's no leavin' yet. She's not ready - she can't sit on a horse, one awkward bump on the road and she'll pop a stitch, start bleeding, risk worse infection - "

"How long?" Elrond worried, magnetized to your side again with one hand in yours, the other caressing the top of your head to stroke your hair in calming motions.

"Just a few days, until the stitches come out," Disa assured. "Yeh'll stay with us!"

"No, they will not," Durin argued.

"They're staying."

"They're leaving."

"They're staying!" Disa scolded her husband, who huffed and shook his head before pacing in a circle. "Now, yeh wanna try t'move around a bit, love?"

"Please," you begged, "losing my mind just sittin' here."

"All right, just be careful - your legs took a beatin', too. Them buggers got you good with their teeth - easy, easy, there's a good girl." Once on your feet and both hands in Disa's, she distracted you from the pain by asking, "So, go on, lass, tell us 'bout yer weddin', hmm?"

You chuckled, stumbling a little into her arms before rightening yourself while answering, "Oh, it was lovely. 'M pretty sure my best friend hooked up with the High King, too."

"No!"

"I know! I knew the King wanted the party of the century, but there's other ways to achieve such status."

Durin snickered, thinking Elrond looked like he was going to have a stroke as Disa helped guide you around the room to earn your bearings. Behind you, Durin's hand held Elrond's shoulder to keep him in place; letting Disa assist you as the two men appreciated the obvious relationship blooming before them.

And years from now, when your daughter rescued the Ring Bearing Hobbit, Frodo Baggins, your husband would heal him; a direct result after nearly losing your life that caused him to study the art.

part one: Match Made in Grey Haven

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[ivymarquis]

Happiness is a Butterfly

It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.

This is what I vanished to work on lol

Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao

The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave. 

Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.

She can barely bring herself to look at him. 

In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger. 

She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either. 

Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.

He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.

She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.

He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.

As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”

This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”

It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.

Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”

“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.

“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.

“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”

She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.

Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.

Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.

Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.

“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”

He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.

“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”

She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.

Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.

They’re adults. They can handle this.

Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.

The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.

If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.

Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.

She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.

Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?

Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.

Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back. 

What did he tell them?

Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.

She doesn’t even need to look at the notification. 

John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy. 

The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it. 

He can however put money in it.

He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.

She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face. 

Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children. 

It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine. 

Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access. 

She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.

“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore. 

“What are you doing?”

There’s a brief pause.

“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further. 

“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”

John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it. 

“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly. 

“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”

She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his. 

“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”

“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”

He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”

He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.

John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves. 

“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”

The something coils tighter in her gut. 

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore. 

“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”

She can’t very well tell him no now can she?

The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children. 

Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt. 

She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to. 

It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name. 

The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air. 

“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).

Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.

“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.

John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”

Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”

Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.

Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.

She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”

Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.

Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?

“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.

“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”

“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”

The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.

“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”

“Could have called me.”

“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.

“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”

It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.

“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”

John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.

That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.

“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate. 

“John-”

“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.

There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her. 

There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities. 

And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home. 

Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss. 

(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)

There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.

She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.

Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John. 

It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.

“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.

“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?

Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her. 

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely. 

“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”

She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd. 

John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake. 

“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-

One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.

“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.

“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife. 

John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.

She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.

She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John. 

He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress. 

“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her. 

It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong. 

There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night. 

“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.

“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has. 

Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.

“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden. 

John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.

“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan. 

Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed. 

Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.

“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed. 

God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.

Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.

“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming. 

“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.

“I believe you,” he assures her. 

She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.

Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.

“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits. 

He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.

John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.

“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.

He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.

“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.

“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.

“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.

There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.

So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.

She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”

It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.

Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.

Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?

She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.

In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.

Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.

“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”

He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”

Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.

He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.

She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.

His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.

“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”

She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.

“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.

“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.” 

She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.

“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”

It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally-  and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.

Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.

She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.

“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.

Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.

It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.

But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.

Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.

As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.

Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.

“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.

He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.

Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.

“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.

He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”

She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.

John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.

She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance. 

“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.

“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.

“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.

His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.

It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.

“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.

“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.

If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.

“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”

Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”

His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.

She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.

“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.

“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.

Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”

“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.

“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.

“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.

“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down. 

“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion. 

John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).

Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.

For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.

It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.

They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.

“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.

“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”

He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”

She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.

When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.

She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest. 

It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.

The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control. 

For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.

The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.

“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.

Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.

“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.

Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.

The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.

“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.

She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.

“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.

“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.

She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.

“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.

He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.

And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.

“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.

Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.

Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.

It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.

“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.

“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.

“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”

“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”

She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.

Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.

“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”

And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.

Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.

(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)

The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.

By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.

John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted. 

Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children. 

Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her. 

Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely. 

Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.

“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules. 

She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-

Anyway.)

“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”

It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).

Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions. 

The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.

She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.

The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.

“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”

It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it. 

“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”

Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.

Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down. 

At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.

“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.

There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).

Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.

“So now what do we do?” she asks.

John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.

They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.

“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”

“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.

After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.

Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.

“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”

“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”

The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?” 

He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.

She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”

The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.

“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.

And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.

Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.

“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”

The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”

“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”

For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.

Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.

The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.

“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.

“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.

It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.

Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.

Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.

Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?

John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.

The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.

No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.

At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.

The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.

A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.

John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.

When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.

She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.

They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.

There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.

Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.

She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.

When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.

She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.

The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.

“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.

“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.

“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)

“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.

Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.

Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡

[c0smoshit]

hi! i have a request (obviosuly you can choose to do it or not, im not forcing you ^^) with a cloud x fem reader story.

y/n and cloud were togheter for a year now, and cloud returns home after a long time (1 month) and he was really clingy because he missed y/n so much but he was kinda shy doing all these things and let this side of him go out that much. (i'll leave to you adding details or something to the story) basically just a cute fluff story with shy kisses,cuddles and things like that :3

bye and thank you! i LITERALLY LOVE your story "Shy Kisses", and i love the way you write! i would be happy if you did this story for me❤️

Far Road ミ★

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud Strife/Reader ⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ fluff!! ⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ last fic of the year and it had to be a Cloud one, hope you enjoy it and thanks for this adorable request!! ⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 2.233

A knock at your door kept you from washing your dishes.

God how you missed him.

Everytime someone knocked, you would run to the door, only to be dissapointed with a plain looking hair and eyes, not your spiky blonde hair mixed with some astonishing mako infused eyes.

It had been such long, lonely and cold nights without his arms warming you up from under the bed, his body so close to you, you could feel his own heartbeat.

You even tried to replace him with some big chocobo plushie he had gifted you a few months ago.

And although they might look alike, no big, fluffy chick could replace your grumpy one.

"I'm coming"

You announced, the glint of hope on your eyes completely vanished now as you placed your plate down the sink. Drying your hands on a towel, you began walking towards the door.

. . .

"Please don't be out there for too long"

Your words caused a crack inside his chest, when he had finally became comfortable with you, with your home, your smell. He had to help his friends once again.

He hadn't even stepped outside the door on that quiet, dark twilight he already was missing you so much. He couldn't bear the fact that he was going to be without you for such a long time, what if something happened to you?

He wouldn't be able to protect you and he did not want to go over that feeling again.

Your shivering hands held your door as your blanket was still wrapped around you, too cold not to hold it close against your body. He hated seeing you shivering, you should be heading back to the bed with him, you even didn't have to work next day so he could've stayed with you.

You also were supposed to be sleeping, it was definitely too early for your puffy eyes to be staring at his own ones in such a melancholic way. He felt guilty, your poor, tired body had been awaken by him shuffling around the appartment, soon coming to see him depart.

"I'll be back soon, promise"

He whispered into the thin air before wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you close to his chest for the last time before a long while. Getting a whiff of your syrupy shampoo, memorizing it's smell.

But on top of it all, he hated saying goodbye after all the times he hadn't got the proper time to verbalize it.

. . .

Opening it up you didn't even see the face of the person that was standing in front of you at first, your eyes peeking at your kitchen for a brief moment to see if you has closed the sink. But when you took a glance at the very man that was standing in front of you, you almost fell down.

Eyes wide as you recognized his almost hollow scent, you quickly searched his eyes, hoping that they had been exposed to a, now familiar, substance.

"Hey"

Oh god.

It was really him.

His eyes quickly closed tight as your arms suddenly enveloped his neck like a scarf, a homemade one. You smelled good, really good. He had been craving that sweet aroma of yours, how it would linger on his pillows for a while after you had gotten off the bed.

And your soft skin finally embracing his own one, tender as he had imagined so many nights out there without you. Your nose hitting his shirt in such a perfect way as you pressed closer into his chest, your short breaths and your tight squeezes against him.

He finally was home.

He got so deep into his thoughts he didn't notice you dragging him into your home, back to the place you had both shared everything. Your socks dragging along his boots as you happily guided him to the living room, not once spliting appart.

"Can't believe you're finally back"

He huffed, rubbing your right arm soothingly as you both sat on the sofa, getting lost in the softness of the couch, you really had done a great job in choosing the pillows.

. . .

"Hey"

He said with half a chuckle as your hands worked on his belt, eager to get inside the bathtub you had made with so much love for both of you.

He first sat down, letting you do the same as you rested in front of him, a relieved sigh coming from your mouth as you leant your head back slightly, careful not to soak your hair up with the blueberry foam.

Both of you getting lost in the feeling of the lukewarm water, a bit too cold for your liking but you knew he liked it just this way. When he opened his eyes briefly he saw you already smiling like a dork at him, almost seeing hearts in your eyes.

"You really did miss me huh?"

You chuckled, of course you had, buying groceries without him by your side and his nonexisent advices over which fruit would taste better or the clothes that would fit you the best.

His afternoon dates of offering you rides around Midgar, the warm afternoon breeze vanishing through your hair as you stared at the dying sun, mind in blank and finally at peace. Listening to the loud roar of the engine, you would always place your hands underneath his jacket, trying to keep them warm as your cheek pressed against his back.

Your homemade meals, god he missed them, nothing could even come closer to the taste of your food, your own personal chocolate smiling faces on your desserts whenever you had the chance.

"Mmmhm"

You nodded in agreement before getting outside the tub, at first he would've asked you where were you going but the feeling of your hands on his wet hair and the smell of his shampoo quickly shut him up.

"Missed you so so much"

You said in a soft tone, rubbing the liquid on his scalp, slowly massaging it around his golden strands, careful not to make knots.

He was in heaven right now.

He desired to wash himself up on his bath once again, the strong scent of his few soaps and some deserved intimacy. But your hands working on his hair was definitely something else.

"Feels good?"

A nod slowly answered your question, smiling as you admired his state: tightly closed eyes, limbs falling over the bath and the sluggish pace of his chest.

You continued rubbing his scalp, your movements soon growing more and more tender and sweet. You had missed him so much you wanted to express your feelings through your touch, your honeyed words and maybe a tasty meal.

When you had finished cleaning up his hair, you motioned him to wash the soap off with some water, giggling as you saw him sliding down the tub, shaking a bit his head under the water. You finally got up, knees feeling slightly numb as you stretched yourself, slowly getting inside the tub again with him.

But this time you had layed on top of him, his eyes shooting wide as he took in the feeling of your body, too blissed out to even notice you getting back up. But he soon wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to his chest as he spread his legs, letting you rest in between them.

There wasn't anything sexual about this, the feeling of your wet skin touching his underneath the water didn't make him feel aroused.

It made him feel loved, warm.

The way your cheek would brush into his before your head lowered down below his chin, your red face thanks to the closiness and the temperature of the room. It was all too much for him to handle so he opted to just admire you as you closed your eyes with a sigh on top of him.

He had his arms wrapped around your waist, sitting upright before his limbs decided to copy your own, relaxing and softening under your body.

Oh how he wishes to do this every day, to hold you until his last breath.

The feeling of your skin wouldn't go away even if the tried to file it down his own skin.

He kissed your forehead, and after you were both satisfied and soaked up enough until your fingers were all wrinkled up. You kissed him on the lips slowly, smiling like a dork and laughing lowly, your breath hitting his mouth as you whispered.

"I love you"

"I'm here with you now"

His deep voice made you giggle like a little girl, you loved his low tone, the first thing you would hear in the mornings and the last thing you would hear before falling asleep. For things like that you loved his quiet self, after a long while of not talking, his voice would naturally lower some tones.

. . .

Wrapped with a towel you looked at him, his hair all ruffled and soaked up just as his body. His towel hung lowly on his hips and you couldn't help but admire your boyfriend's chiseled physique.

How did you get so lucky??

Your mind always gets back to that question, he wasn't only caring, honest and cute but he was ripped off too?!?

And his absolutely angelic face, his gorgerous eyes and his small and cute nose were too much for you to handle. Since the day you had first seen him, you had always thought that his absolutely adorable features didn't match his body. He was just too cute to be that buff!

"Seen enough already?"

He asked with a hidden smirk, he also loved the way you drooled over him, teasing you just to see your blushy cheeks as you had been caught. But he couln't really laugh that loud because, hell, you looked absolutely astonishing too.

"Nah, not yet"

You teased back, walking until you met him as you wrapped your arms around his back, pecking his shoulder as you heard his breath hitching, earning a sly smirk from you.

But as much as you wanted to tease him further, the roles were quickly exchanged as he picked you up suddenly, throwing you over his shoulder as he started to walk off the steamy bathroom. He often did this, picking you up or manhandling you around, trying to avoid your teasing kisses or touches. And you should be already accustomed to it, but you couldn't help the yelp escaping from your lips.

He was the one smirking now.

Playfully kicking his back you told him to put you down, laughing as you felt his shoulder poking your stomach through your towel, your hair fell down and your face was starting to heat up again thanks to your blood travelling downwards.

But soon your giggles were cut off as you landed on the bed, jumping off slightly as you stared at him with fake disbelief.

"Did you loose your maners on that trip?"

You said as you stared at him, resting on your elbows, his back was facing you as he searched some clothes on your closet. His back moved swiftly as his muscles flexed under his skin, huffing out he answered.

"Maybe"

You laid your head on the bed, closing your eyes as you breathed out, taking all the space with your extremities. The bed felt extra-soft today and the lavender scent you always sprayed on on top of the mattress seemed to have became stronger.

"But maybe you shouldn't tease me like that"

You almost didn't pick up his words but your pride was much more bigger than just accepting them, so you sat upright, looking at the oversized shirt he was holding on his arms.

"Oh, you love it"

You said in a ludic tone, quickly taking away the piece of clothing as you smiled mischeviously.

"Hey, that was my shirt"

You dropped your towel before putting on the shirt, smelling it like crazy before your head poked out of it. He naturally retrieved his eyes from your back, as if he didn't see you naked just a few minutes ago.

"Well, it smelt too good for you to wear it"

He huffed out, reaching out to grab another shirt before placing it over himself finally and he actually noticed it smelling a bit too much like him. Did you spray his perfume over it?

Well, he couldn't blame you, he was the first one to take a long breath of your hair the moment you hugged him. Press his face on your pillow as he woke up, hell he did even smell your shirts once in a while.

"mmmhmm"

You mumbled, sighing out for a long while as you finally nuzzled into his neck once again. You had really, really missed his arms around you, well, his everything around you. From his soft skin to his steady heartbeat, soothing you slowly into nirvana.

"I love you"

You lifted your head just so you could kiss him once again, lips you couldn't understand how they were perfectly hydrated always. And it wasn't an exception tonight, moving slowly against yours as his hot breath hit your cheeks.

But you felt yourself slowly falling asleep on him, so he took your face off him, pecking your cheek before his right hand guided you back to his neck. His hand then lifted the mattress, carefully covering both of your entwined bodies.

[bones4thecats]

Could I please request of blot boys reaction to their sibling(the reader) was taken by stxy instead of them? The resion could be that the reader has magic samiler to blot?

You can ignore this if its a bother, have a nice day!

When Their Sibling Gets Taken By STYX

Type of Writing: Request Character: Azul Ashengrotto, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, and Leona Kingscholar Name: When Their Sibling Gets Taken By STYX Requester: @firewolf6783

A/N: By far one of my favorite pieces. This was so much fun to write, so I hope you enjoyed this! Peace :p

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐙 Azul is a fairly protective sibling in general, so when Jade and Floyd came up to him and said that they couldn't find his sibling around Night Raven College, he immediately went to the prefect to find out where you were

🐙 Hearing that you were taken from the grounds by a supposed student, Azul appointed the tweels to go with Rook, Yuu, and Grim in order to find you and get you back to Octavinelle

🐙 When he received the news that you were going to be returned soon, he was relieved, especially after seeing a photo of you and the tweels safe and sound

🐙 Your brother had bee-lined to the entrance of the college, he had stood there and shuffled on his feet, his mind full of what ifs

🐙 Like he literally rants to himself in his mind;

What if they were injured but I couldn't see it?! What happened to them?! Why were they even kidnapped?! What if I got there before?! Why would someone ever try harming them?!

🐙 This guy is literally making up scenario after scenario while waiting for you and the tweels to reappear

🐙 Once he heard the sound of you yelling and Floyd laughing, he jumped back out of his head and looked up from his phone. And he was happy to see Floyd giving you a piggyback ride as you held tightly onto him while he ran

" Azul! Lookie, we found Baby Octopus! "

🐙 Your eyebrows furrowing in agitation at the nickname made Azul chuckle as he walked up to you guys, motioning for Floyd to put you down

🐙 He was super happy that you were back, and while you did have some side-effects from being stuck in S.T.YX., he just smiled and brushed his fingers over the small scales on your arms

" I've seen you look far worse, little sibling. " " Yeah! Like when you accidentally sprayed ink all over yourself when we scared you all those years ago! " " Shut the hell up, Floyd! "

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🐍 Was he peeved when he received news that you were missing? Absolutely.

🐍 At first, Jamil believed that someone was there to kidnap Kalim but ended up accidentally getting the identities mixed and kidnapped you instead

🐍 Once he heard about it, he had ordered everyone he knew to search for you, and hearing that other members of the College had gone missing as well, only made him worry even more

🐍 Was something else going on? If someone was just after Kalim, why would there be other students missing?

🐍 Much like Azul, Jamil begins to panic on what happened to you, making many different accusations and scenarios up in his mind on what had happened to you and where in Twisted Wonderland you would be

🐍 It was when he was just about to go overboard and possibly overblot again that he got a call from Kalim, stating that you were found and only had a few changes, but they weren't bad

🐍 That made his worries all vanish, and it also made the rest of Scarabia whip their foreheads of sweat, they were scared their vice-housewarden was about to go and hypnotize them again

🐍 Jamil immediately after hanging up with Kalim began to sprint down the corridor and through Scarabia's mirror, bolting straight for the mirror chamber, and when he saw you weren't there, he ran right to the entrance of the school

🐍 Which was where he saw you and Kalim hugging, you just trying to comfort him from crying so much

" Hey brother! " " Sweet Sevens, thank the world that you're safe. Kalim said you had no injuries that were major, right? You better not be hiding any of them from me, or I swear to- " " I'm really fine, Jamil. Just I little tired is all. "

🐍 That was when he noticed that Kalim was messing with something behind you, and when he looked back and saw that you had a small snake tail with a rattle, his eyes widened and he looked so confused

" Long story... " " Then you better start telling me now. "

🐍 Yeah, once you told him about everything that happened with S.T.Y.X. it's needless to say that he became a mama-bear whenever Idia came around

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

👑 Oh was he beyond upset

👑 Vil was looking everywhere in Pomefiore for you, so when he couldn't seem to locate you, even using your tracking system you both installed on your phones for safety, he got really mad

👑 He tried to asked Rook to go around and look for you, and that was when he noticed that his phone was pinging all the way over to where the Isle of Woe was supposedly located, and he started to get beyond worried

👑 Vil decided to try calling Yuu, who he knew you were close too. But, when they didn't call him back or give him a message, everyone noticed how it was affecting him

👑 It was so bad that the teachers gave him time off class because of how worried he was

👑 He wasn't even coming out of his room for anything, not even gifting a reaction when someone mentioned Neige being there (obviously lying, but still)

👑 By the time he received Rook's message of finding you and the others that were kidnapped, Vil was dead asleep, his room in quite a lot of disarray

👑 When he heard the sound of his door being knocked on, Vil woke up death-fully silent, he wrapped himself in a robe and hide his face behind the hood of the fluffy clothing

" (R/N), I don't care if- " " Hey Lover-Boy... WOAH. I can tell you missed me! " " Y/N?... " " Where in the name of the Great Seven were you?! You had been losing my mind! Do you know how worried I was?! " " ... ah damn... "

👑 Now you have to deal with your brother's scoldings. But, when he eventually saw the small burns from some technologies from S.T.Y.X. on you, he just smirked and complimented you

👑 And that got Epel googling on how much grief can affect someone's personality while Rook just laughs and talks about how sweet of a brother the housewarden is

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄��⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

🦁 As the last-born of your royal family everyone saw potential in you from the very beginning of your life

🦁 You were put on a very high pedestal, but, you were still held in a lower degree than your oldest brother Falena Kingscholar, so you and your second-oldest brother, Leona Kingscholar, and you bonded like nobody's business

🦁 It was because of your closeness that Leona was getting worried

🦁 The last time he had seen you was when you went with your friend Jack to class, so when Leona went and asked the wolf-beastman about your whereabouts and he only said he thought you went back to your dorm, he got upset

🦁 Your brother immediately grabbed his phone and messaged Ruggie, ordering him to put everything aside and issue a warning around the school; one that you were missing

🦁 That was how he found out about other students going missing, and when he learned that the magicless prefect and their cat was gone, he got angry

🦁 Was this some kind of devilish plan of theirs?!

🦁 During your time missing, he tried keeping it only known to the school, he doesn't need his and yours brother and his family to get the royal guard engaged in this, he could handle it himself

🦁 When you finally called him, Leona was curled up in his bed, contemplating ideas on where you could be

🦁 Hearing the familiar sound of your ringtone, Leona lunged for his device, holding it up to his ear to hear the sound of your voice

" Ah, Roi des Lions! Do not worry, I have old Princesse des Bêtes here with me, they're safe and sound. " " Where the hell are they you prick?! " " We're on our way back to the school, we should be back at around six heures et demie. See you then! " " Why you- DAMN IT! "

🦁 Leona stood outside the school awaiting your arrival. And while he was there with Ruggie, he gritted his teeth, allowing a bare minimum of his fangs to show

🦁 When he finally caught sight of you and saw that you had a small amount of fur along your body, he just sighed, holding you close before picking you up and dragging you to Savanaclaw

" Y'know, for someone who's supposed to be the blessed child, you really find ways to get into trouble. " " I guess that's why I'm your sibling, huh? " " Fuck you. " " Love you too, brother! "

[wannabespiderman]

Man vs machine

Hello! This is my first fanfic written in English so I'm slightly nervous to post this but I couldn't get this idea out of my head so... I hope you enjoy :)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Just an old man confused about modern technology.

.

.

.

You were walking past the living room door when a discontented grunt caught your attention. You took two steps back to crane your neck past the half-closed door. Bucky was sitting on the sofa, leaning over the living room table, which looked like a toddler’s table compared to him, his face illuminated by the bright screen of his new laptop that you’ve bought him not too long ago. His eyebrows were tightly knit together when he mumbled a quiet curse. You turned around, a curious expression on your face as you walked through the door.

"You okay, baby?" you asked and promptly sat down next to him. Bucky gave you an inscrutable look before turning his eyes back to the screen. “Where the hell do I find my emails?” he asked in frustration. A sudden laugh escaped you. You should have realized that a 106 year old man who had little to do with electronics would have some trouble with a laptop. Bucky gave you a displeased look with a slight, unconcious pout appearing on his face. “Click on the internet icon.” You spoke softly, willing to help. Bucky’s brow furrowed. “I don’t need the internet, I need my emails.” You stayed silent for a moment, slightly baffled by his words. Just last week you took the effort to set up a Google account with him and you were pretty sure he had paid attention then. “Bucky.” You said an amused huff escaping you. “Your e-mail is connected to the Internet. Just click on the icon.” Bucky clicked his tongue in annoyance to cover his slight embarrassment and went back to staring at the desktop. He was definitely taking his time, and at one point you doubted he knew what an icon was. “Need any help?” you asked as kindly as you could, though the sight of Bucky squinting his eyes like a real old man made your voice sound rather amused. With an exhausted sigh, Bucky leaned back against the seat back and rubbed his face, his shoulders visibly slumping. “You do it.”

You snort, but immediately apologize after he gives you an exceptionally grumpy look. “You can do it.” You said encouragingly, giving him a small smile. Bucky rolled his eyes, but relented and bent over the laptop again. You shuffled closer to it so you could see the screen properly, and the little orange and blue Firefox icon literally jumped out at you. You pointed your finger at it and looked at it again. “Just click on this one.”

You tried to be patient with him, really, and actually he did exactly what you said, but you couldn’t hold back the little sigh that left your mouth as he moved the cursor over the Firefox icon and clicked. Once. “Okay.” You mumbled, rubbing your eye. Apparently, you needed to be more specific. "This time you click twice." Another brief but piercing look from Bucky before he actually double-clicked and the browser opened. You sent a quick thank you to the heavens before instructing him to type the url into the search tab and cringed silently when he started typing with both of his pointer fingers. Right this second you decided to teach him how to properly type with all ten of his fingers later. A few more instructions later, probably a little more than usually necessary, he reached the Google log-in site.

“I assume you can handle the rest?” It was supposed to be a statement but your voice shifted into a question at the end.

He hummed quietly in affirmation, though his brow was still furrowed as if this whole thing was incredibly complicated which, to be honest… it probably was for him. You pressed your lips together, a slight sting of guilt coursing through you, your previous amusement and frustration about his hardship completely vanishing. One second you were quietly sat next to him and the other you had your arms wrapped around his bicep and your head leaning on his shoulder. “I’m sorry about laughing earlier.” You whispered, almost too quiet for him to understand if he weren’t a Super-Soldier and had enhanced hearing. “I know it’s new for you.” Bucky tried to shrug it off but you saw how his eyes softened when he tilted his head to look down at you. A sudden, quiet chuckle escaped him, making you quirk an eyebrow in curiosity.

“You’d think, as a Cyborg, I’d be better at this.”

[tsxkkis]

# tooru oikawa - my girl

a/n = began writing this one while bored at the beach (i literally can't swim and dislike tanning so what's there for me to do) i just hope it's not out of character or smthing T-T

summary = you go to the beach with aoba johsai, only to be found in a rather uncomfortable situation. but don't you worry, oikawa is there.

warnings = mentions of some guys being lowkey creepy, nothing else i think.

oikawa noticed that something was wrong.

going to the seaside with the entire aoba johsai volleyball team was supposed to be a fun way to say goodbye to their third years, officially closing the chapter of high school volleyball in their lives. everyone agreed to it, the brown-haired captain proud of himself for coming up with the idea. all of them were surely having fun, right?

he slowly left the water, ignoring the hungry stares from girls next to him as he started looking around, his eyes eagerly trying to find every single person who was able to attend the trip.

most of the guys, including kyoutani, matsukawa, and hanamaki, decided to join some people in a match of beach volleyball, oikawa chuckling under his breath as he saw them clearly crushing their opponents in the game. it took a quick glance behind him to notice yahaba, watari, and kindaichi in the water, the first year fighting for his life as the other two tried to drown him for fun. kunimi was, as per usual, sitting and making sure no one's things got stolen. it seemed as if everyone was in their place.

until he realized that you were nowhere to be seen.

oikawa tried not to panic, although it was clear from his behavior that he wasn't doing that great of a job at it. his eyes hurriedly scanned every possible corner, carefully looking through the crowds of people, hoping and praying that he would find you in one of them, that you weren't captured or something.

but the moment his eyes met yours, he wasn't relieved at all.

you stood by the bar, arms crossed over your chest as you, once again, tried to politely walk past two guys who in an almost demanding tone asked you for your number around ten minutes ago. since then, they've been bothering you without an end; stepping into your personal space, their hands trying to gently brush against your body, cheeky smiles on their faces as they tried every method possible to, get your social media accounts, number, anything. you tried to ignore them as much as you could, brushing their attempts off with the nicest face you could muster up to make, taking small steps from time to time as you headed towards the exit.

much to your disappointment, though, they seemed to understand exactly what your plan was, cornering you in a way that made you unable to escape from them. as you were trying to think of a way to get away as fast as you could, you suddenly saw a pair of hands gently tapping on arms of both guys.

"she's a beautiful one, isn't she?" hearing and seeing oikawa made you let out a breath of relief, one you didn't even know you were holding in until now. he got between the two guys, his hands immediately creeping around your waist, your eyes widening in surprise at his actions.

"too bad for you boys, she's mine."

his next actions shocked you even more, his face suddenly mere inches away from yours as his lips crashed into yours, his hands squeezing your waist gently as your back fell against the wall behind you. you melted into the kiss instinctively, lips moving swiftly against his as one of your hands traveled to his back. you smiled into the kiss, noticing in the corner of your eye that the two guys from before left you alone, frowns on their faces as they walked away.

as both of you pulled away from the kiss, heavy breathing being the only thing disrupting the silence between you, you couldn't help but notice the glint of worry in oikawa's eyes, giving you a concerned look.

"they didn't do anything to you, right?" his voice was unusually soft, his daily demeanor completely vanishing, just as if you were presented with a completely different side of oikawa. you shook your head in response, seeing the boy let out a sigh of relief, a genuine smile gracing his face. "thank god. i wouldn't forgive myself if my girl got hurt."

my girl.

his... girl?

you could feel the burning feeling rushing to your cheeks, giving the setter a puzzled look as you tried your best to use your hair as a cover-up. oikawa chuckled, his hand awkwardly scratching his neck.

"well, not my girl technically." he came back to his usual, flirty demeanor, face leaning in next to your ear. "but i definitely wouldn't complain if you were."

he couldn't get his eyes off of you for even a spare second, taking in every small reaction to his words, scanning the features on your face as you silently put the pieces together. suddenly, a lot of previous situations that you and the rest of the team were confused about made sense.

how oikawa rejected the prettiest model who asked him out after his game a few weeks prior, how his usual flirty demeanor seemed to calm down a bit, remarks of this sort only being thrown around and to the volleyball team and you. how he didn't gush over every girl who tried flirting with him, ignoring their attempts more and more. it was unusual for oikawa to act like this, but no one knew how to approach that topic in a conversation with him.

right now, you didn't have to.

"that's why you rejected that one model after the game?" you mumbled, eyes looking up at oikawa, his hair still damp as little droplets of water fell from his hair. the boy gave you a nod in response, a smile not leaving his face.

"and every girl prior to that. and after that, too." his eyes lowered to your lips for just a second, an action that you didn't leave unnoticed. "i only had my eyes on you, sweetheart. but you never quite caught the hint."

"you flirt with iwaizumi more than with me, tooru." you pointed out, a laugh escaping your lips as the brown-haired boy didn't even try to deny it, trying your best to ignore how your cheeks went even more red at the nickname that slipped from his lips.

"i wanted to ask you out properly later today." he admitted, eyes locked with yours, an awkward laugh leaving his lips. "i guess the universe was fed up with me postponing it all the time."

you giggled at his response, hand coming up to pat his shoulder as you went past him.

"i'm waiting for the proper question, then." you said quietly, just enough for oikawa to hear.

"because for your information, my answer will always be yes."

taglist: @ox1-lovesick @moonswolfie @wyrcan

[ghost-bxrd]

Now stuck thinking about Dragon Batfam…

Imagine if Baby Dragons are all basically traffic light coloured, called Robins – maybe because of the way they fly or something.

Once they mature and change colour to their adult forms, they are given their individual names in a kind of coming-of-age ceremony.

Ideally this is done together for the dragon and the rider, the child bonding with the dragon from the time it emerges from the egg. But sometimes the eggs hatch late and the dragon is younger than the rider.

Or, more rarely, someone manages to claim an older dragon whose rider died.

Riders and dragons forming a psychic bond so that the rider is part dragon and the dragon part human in their souls and minds. So sometimes Riders – at least when in flight – having their dragons’ names being used synonymously with theirs…

Dick’s Nightwing, Bruce’s Bat…

Jason returns on the monstrous dragon Red Hood that is rumoured to have once belonged to the mad tyrant Rider who vanished mysteriously ages ago… Good reason to suspect the monster dragon is influencing the prince in his rampage against his family…

Plot Twist: Red truly is (or more like was) that tyrant’s dragon! Jason (or someone else) finally managed to kill him, and when he went to take care of the beast he surprise-bonded with the older dragon.

The dragon is aggressive, volatile, but it’s also the most over-protective thing ever. After years of being mistreated by the tyrant, Jason is the best thing that ever happened to Red. The best thing to ever happen to each other, actually.

—> Jason is lowkey adopted by a colossal dragon that would literally burn armies for Jay’s soft nose scratches. And in turn, Jason has better control over Red than the tyrant ever did.

Just—- dragon ride things 🥺💚

[brain-rot-central]

Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 4

A/N: Confrontation time. Here we go, y'all. I'm tagging this as borderline non-con for the ending. It steps into some murky territory that some may feel uncomfortable with. But hey, we're dealing with AA, after all. I'll also be linking a post reference within the text here; please click the link when you see it! It'll help you visualize a certain part. 🌝 Thank you all for the support thus far! I hope you enjoy reading ❤️

Rating: Explicit Word count: 7.7k Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (named) Warnings: 18+, non-con (somewhat; literally touches the border of it), absolutely dubcon, mentions of pregnancy, mention of virginity loss, loss of innocence, manipulative behaviors, toxic relationship, discussions of death and murder, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, PiV sex, PiV sex while pregnant, blood drinking, mother-fuckin' vampire sex boiiiiiiiiii (sorry these tags are way too serious and I am not)

Summary: Tav arrives at the Crimson Palace, poised for a confrontation with Astarion. A delicate dance ensues.

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Next Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust as she enters, but once they do, the sight before her nearly robs her of all speech and reason.

Illuminated by candelabras, Tav gasps in awe at the renovations to the interior of the manor. The once drab and outdated decor has been ripped out, heart and soul, and replaced with… white. So much white.

White walls, white marble flooring with golden accents, tall white marble columns. A generous crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, Tav looking up. Her vision comes down to settle on the plush red carpet lining the foyer, stretching through the hall and into the ballroom. The reflection of the candlelight shimmers along the marble floors. A sunset on the water… Tav notes offhandedly to herself. 

A commemoration to their moment of triumph over the Absolute.

They all stood atop the dock watching the sun set over the horizon, sunlight glinting off the sea. The moment the tadpole vanished, Astarion became free. Truly and completely free. 

A life regained, a future unwritten. 

Reborn anew.

As she continues to drink in the new additions to the palace, Tav sees a figure approach from the corner of her eye. She turns her head to observe an older human woman making her way down the carpet, a smile set upon her slightly wrinkled face.

“Good evening, young miss,” the woman greets with a short bow. “Have you come to ask for an audience with Lord Ancunín?”

Tav remains silent for a moment as she quickly gives the woman a glance over. Gray hair with a time-worn face, albeit one that still shows the beauty she once beheld. She wears a simple long black dress with long sleeves, a white apron tied around her waist. Her shoes are black with a big metal buckle adorning the top of each. “I beg pardon for my current appearance,” the woman offers, giving the apron a quick pat down. “It isn’t often we have visitors this time in the evening.”

“No…” Tav begins, voice trailing off as she regroups her thoughts. “Not an audience, no. I’m…” Her chest thumps as she ponders their relationship. “...A friend of Astarion's. Is he home?”

“The young Master is in, yes; though I'm afraid he's currently occupied.” As if sensing Tav’s disappointment, the woman questions, “May I ask who you are?”

Tav nods her head respectfully. “I'm Tav.” The woman quirks a questioning brow. “Tavaria,” she adds quickly. “I was a traveling companion to Astarion over a year ago.” 

And much more…

A spark shoots across the woman's vision and Tav recoils backward, readying herself. 

“Ah!” the woman exclaims joyfully, “Lady Tavaria!” The woman bows earnestly. “Lord Ancunín extends his warmest greetings to you. Welcome to the Crimson Palace.”

With a smile, Tav softens her stance. She bows in return. “Thank you. It's… definitely different than before,” she comments while looking around the room.

“Ah, yes,” the woman agrees, “Master Astarion has renovated the manor to his distinct liking after the untimely passing of its prior occupant.”

“I see,” Tav states with a laugh. “This is all… very Astarion.” Elegant and refined.

All for show. 

Continuing her observation of the room, a painting hanging on the middle wall catches Tav's eyes. She walks toward the painting, stopping just in front of it.

It's a black and white piece, looking to have been drawn in charcoal, depicting a man and woman sharing an intimate embrace. Both are naked, the woman's face obscured by her pose as she bows her back while offering her throat to the man. His head rests within her neck, his long black hair flowing down his back. The accompanying piece focuses solely on the man. The lustful look demonstrated in the man's half-lidded eyes as he looks up from the woman's throat has Tav shaking where she stands. 

She's seen that look before. Not unlike how Astarion has looked at her.

The servant woman smiles, still standing in the same spot, clasping her hands together. “You must be exhausted, dearie,” she says, cutting through the silence. “Shall I direct you to your chambers?”

Tav blinks rapidly and turns her head to the woman. “I’m sorry, but did you say ‘my chambers?’” She shakes her head with a short laugh. “I don't live here.”

“But of course, my lady,” offers the servant. “Master Astarion has asked that we offer it as an option should you ever visit the manor.” She nods her head with another beatific smile. “There is no obligation. It is simply a kind gesture.” She bows, courteously, “My apologies for any offense I may have given, Lady Tavaria.”

Tav nods briefly, turning away from the woman as her mind races. He made me a bloody bedroom? She lifts her head and once again finds the picture on the wall. A chill travels up her neck as she locks eyes with the intense gaze of the man in the painting. Her breath hitches.

“Do you know when Astarion will be available?” Tav asks hurriedly, looking toward the woman.

The servant shakes her head. “I'm afraid I do not, though I can set you up in the study while you wait?” Smiling again, the woman walks across the room to a set of double doors on the far right. She opens them wide and gestures to Tav, welcoming her to enter.

Clutching her satchel, Tav walks through the threshold and into the office. It's rather standard when compared to the rest of the manor; dark green carpeting and wood panel walls. Multiple bookcases that are carved into the walls, holding a plethora of tomes. A couple glass display cases are near the large window on the far side of the room. The evening sunlight pours in from the wide window and onto the chaise lounge adjacent to it; a relaxing spot for one who wishes to bask in the sun. 

The solid, dark wooden desk across from the double doors has a number of loose papers strewn about the top. An ornate wooden chair sits behind the desk, purple velvet upholstery with golden Damask patterns lining the back and seat. Two simple royal blue armchairs sit before the desk, signaling the office’s likely use for business gatherings.

“Please, make yourself at home,” the older woman says from behind as she enters the room. She walks over to the desk and gathers the documents into a single pile. “Would you care for something to drink, my lady? I'd be happy to bring you something after informing Lord Ancunín of your presence.”

Tav turns her head in acknowledgement of the older woman. “I'm quite well, thank you.” She furrows her brow. “Though, I didn't catch your name before.”

The woman freezes momentarily before bringing her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaims in embarrassment, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “Where are my manners today?” She quickly bows. “Magdalena, my lady. A true pleasure to make your acquaintance. My sincerest apologies.”

“It’s quite alright, Magdalena. No harm done,” Tav says with a calming wave of her hand. She walks toward the grand window and turns to face the older woman again. “Thank you for your hospitality thus far. I’ll settle myself in.”

With a nod of her head, Magdalena begins to exit the study. “Of course, Lady Tavaria. I’ll inform Master Astarion of your presence at once.” The doors close behind her with a soft click, and suddenly, Tav is alone.

She removes the satchel from around her chest, depositing the bag onto the chaise lounge. Her hat and scarf are next to join as she shakes out her hair. Tav tries to look through the frosted glass window without success. The opacity is too intense to make out anything more than muddled blobs. Turning around, she begins to walk the perimeter of the room, stopping in front of a large glass display case with a large book resting within. The cover of the book is adorned with skin, stitched into the pattern of a screaming face. An amethyst jewel sits within the face’s open mouth. Tav recalls the long nights and early mornings Astarion spent reasoning with this book until finally uncovering its secrets.

The Necromancy of Thay. 

Of course he kept it.

She continues on, noting each small trinket that sits within the shelves of the grand bookcases. Slipping her hands behind her back, Tav peers over the wooden desk and observes the pile of documents on top. She pops her head up to briefly scan the room. Satisfied that she has clear advantage, she takes a hand to swipe over the letters.

There are various invitations to grand balls in distant kingdoms, letters of gratitude from high nobles, bills of sale… Tav’s eyes widen as she spots a familiar name amongst the many signatures.

With deepest admiration, Araj Oblodra

Tav reaches over and picks up the letter off the desk, holding it steady with both hands as she skims through the contents. From what she gathers, it sounds as if Araj has learned of Astarion’s new circumstances. She’s highly apologetic for her past behavior and would very much like an opportunity to show her sincerest gratitude. The letter goes on further to imply that they take the chance to get to know one another better, and perhaps they can even become  allies. 

Tav scoffs as she places the piece of paper back down on the desk. 

She resumes her roaming when she settles on a small jewelry case on the top left of the desk. Walking around the edge, Tav fixates on the case, a startled gasp slips past her lips as she recognizes the jewelry within.

Resting atop a red velvet cushion lay a golden ring with a turquoise stone in its center. One half of a matching set of rings she had found during their journey through the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Tav was in possession of both rings for quite some time, going back and forth with herself about whether giving him one half would be too much. 

She’d grown to like him; really-really like him, but she’d no idea if he felt the same. It wasn’t until the night of Astarion’s confession that Tav made her decision. Feeling the tension within his body as she wrapped her arms around his waist, yet fighting through his hesitation to return her embrace. It was enough to convince her that he truly did want to give them a try. 

She presented the ring to him the following morning as they packed up camp.

“...A bit soon for a proposal, no?” quips Astarion, expression smug.

Tav stands before him. A ring with a golden aura lays within the palm of her hand, held out in silent offer. “N-no!” she stammers, the ghost of a blush tinting her cheeks. She averts her gaze as she says, “It's an enchanted ring.”

Astarion raises an eyebrow in question. “I can see that quite clearly, dear. But what does it do?”

Turning to look at him under her eyes, Tav replies shyly, “...It allows me to cast a special protection spell on you.” Her cheeks burn hot, her skin beginning to prickle.

His eyes darken as he leans forward. “Oh,” Astarion teases, voice velvet, “you wish to be my Knight?” He begins to move into her, hovering his lips just above hers. “You want to save a poor, innocent maiden such as I,” he coos. “Is that it, darling?”

They spent the majority of the following night rutting feverishly against one another, sharing a mutual need to scrub their underclothes in the river the morning after. From that point forward, each wore their respective ring around the fourth finger of the left hand.

Commotion outside the office brings Tav back to the present. She hears the voice of a woman, though not of the servant from earlier. Tav sneaks closer toward the doors, placing her ear to the wood to hopefully catch some of the conversation.

Still muffled, she thinks with a scowl. Drawing a deep breath in, Tav makes a quick split decision and grabs hold of the doorknob, twisting it gently. She feels the lock unlatch and pulls the door open just enough to allow for a small sliver of visibility. Tav strains against the door as she tries to find a better angle. 

A tall elven woman with long blonde hair stands in the foyer exchanging words with Magdalena. Dressed in professional attire, she hands the maid a business card as they exchange pleasantries. Tav catches the woman's head beginning to turn toward the direction of the office and Tav quickly steps out of sight, holding her breath, heart flying within her chest. A few moments pass without incident before Tav slowly inches toward the crack in the door. She finds Magdalena bowing as the elf takes her leave of the manor.

There isn't much time to ponder who this mysterious woman is – the sound of footsteps marching along marble flooring fills the air. 

“Good evening, Master,” greets Magdalena, kneeling in a curtsy.

“Good evening, my dear.” A man's voice, deep and smooth. Perfectly poised. Her stomach lurches; she knows that voice.

Tav holds her breath as talk continues just beyond the door. She quickly scans the room to determine which is closer – the blue armchair sitting before the desk, or the chaise lounge near the window. 

As the man's footsteps draw closer to the door Tav bolts for the armchair, sitting promptly. She adjusts herself to appear as if she's been waiting patiently for his arrival all this time. 

“Odd that the door is already open,” Tav hears the man comment from just beyond the door. 

Shit. 

A flash of embarrassing heat crawls up her neck. Magdalena mutters something to Astarion under her breath, but it's too quiet for Tav to make out. The doors suddenly swing open and Tav remains still, trying desperately to settle the overactive current that is her nerves.

She smells him first before she sees him – the signature scent of rosemary, bergamot and brandy encompassing the quaint office. “Thank you, Magdalena. Now, please, carry on,” he says smoothly. 

Tav hears the man begin to approach from behind, placing the palms of his hands atop her shoulders. “I’m sure you've done a fine job at making our Lady feel welcome, hmm?” He squeezes her shoulders, Tav flinching beneath his grasp.

Tav tries desperately to resist the urge to look at him. When she closes her eyes she envisions the sharpness of his jaw behind her mind's eye, coupled with the smell of his cologne that’s currently assaulting her senses – she simply cannot look at him. If she does, she's going to fall.

She'll forget about the murders. Forget how angry she is that he dared come to her in a state of blood-crazed lust. That she carries a child he knows nothing about, that he can never know anything about.

If she looks at his face, so perfectly sculpted by the Gods themselves, she's going to forget every reason as to why she should stay far, far away from this man. Longing for nothing more than to fall into his arms for the rest of eternity.

“Y-yes,” Tav replies, nervously. “You've been ever so kind, Magdalena. Thank you.” Finally, she turns, eyes meeting with the servant woman. Tav feels the pale elf's searing gaze upon her skin as she deliberately looks past him, the hands on her shoulders relaxing.

“Wonderful,” he sings with a wave of his hand. “Now leave us, Magdalena.” He walks around Tav, coming to lean against the lip of the office desk. “The Lady and I have much to discuss,” he purrs, leaning over as he places a hand upon her jaw. Slowly he tilts her face upright, staring directly into her eyes. “Isn't that right, love?”

Within an instant, she feels faint. An unsettling warmth begins to spread. “Yes, Astarion,” Tav murmurs softly as his fingers slip down her neck. Her eyes flutter closed as the hand inevitably falls free of her. Astarion slowly leans back and upright, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. He breaks eye contact to focus on Magdalena.

The servant woman bows, closing the doors behind her with an audible ‘thud’ as she takes her leave. The room is silent then. Tav’s heart pounds in her ears as she stares beyond Astarion again, focusing on the ring box at the corner of the desk. She only realizes how rapidly she's breathing as the sound reaches her ears.

“Are you alright, dear?” Astarion’s smooth voice cuts through. “You look as though you've seen a ghost.”

Raising her head, Tav meets his eyes. He stands before her, concern written across his features. For a split second, Tav sees him – the dashing rogue she fell in love with.

The way Astarion is knitting his brow, wide glassy eyes studying her. It's all very much like him. 

“I’m fine,” she forces out, swallowing hard.

“Did Magdalena offend you?” Astarion asks urgently.

Tav shakes her head. “No, she truly has been pleasant.”

He leans over her again. Astarion drags a finger delicately up the side of her cheek. “Then why do you cry?”

Immediately Tav raises a hand to her opposite cheek. Moisture coats her fingertips as she finds a stray tear rolling down her cheek. She’s unsure when or why she’s begun to weep, wiping the tear away with the back of her hand. Tav pulls herself out of Astarion’s touch with a slight groan.

“I-I’m fine, really,” she insists. “I… came to see you.”

The vampire's expression softens as he tilts his head. “I haven't come to you in some time,” Astarion says, walking toward a carafe of wine sitting atop a metal cart near the window. “I apologize for that.” He speaks over his shoulder, pouring the wine out into a glass. He gestures with the carafe briefly to Tav; she shakes her head. “Although, I can't say I anticipated you showing up here.” Placing the carafe back down on the cart, Astarion turns, lips pulling into a smirk as he brings the wine glass to his lips. “Is it true then, what they say? Has absence made your heart grow fonder?”

Tav stands and turns to Astarion, giving him a full glance over. He wears a simple white dress shirt, the top few buttons undone revealing glimpses of his sculpted chest. His trousers are something she’s unfamiliar with – a type of woven cotton in a particular vertical design, and dyed blue. Indigo blue. He's wearing a black belt, threaded into loops within the pants around his hips. Tav imagines there's a fastener under the belt buckle, but also something else to help secure the garment. Something metal running down the front seam of the pants. Her eyes finish their course down his legs to find a simple pair of polished black loafers.

“...I'll take that as a yes,” Astarion comments with a quirk of his brow. He returns from across the room to once again take his place leaning against the desk in front of Tav, setting the wine glass down.

“N-no,” Tav blurts out, “I mean yes, but…” She feels the warmth of embarrassment crawl up her neck, nipping along her skin as it floods her face. 

A hand rises to move her hair gently aside. Astarion leans forward and dips his head into the crook of her neck, planting chaste kisses along the tender flesh. “I missed you,” he whispers into her skin. Hot puffs of breath spread over her neck and Tav shudders. Almost instinctively, she raises her head to allow Astarion better access to her throat; her eyes flutter closed. His hand in her hair winds around the back of her head, gently guiding Tav’s head further to the side before falling to her hip. 

Tav gasps as Astarion pulls their bodies flush against one another. His arousal has yet to awaken, though she can still feel the outline of him against her core. She groans as he rolls her hips into her again and again; slow, languid thrusts that have bolts of pleasure shooting up from between her thighs and spreading like wildfire through her body.

“Astarion…” Tav protests weakly, raising a hand to cover Astarion's on her hip. “I didn't come here for this.”

He purrs into her throat, gently nipping and teasing the skin around her scars with blunted teeth. “Oh, no? Are you sure?” Astarion pulls her into him again while imitating a piercing bite into her neck.

She moans, louder than she means to, finally feeling the rigidness of his cock firmly against her sex. Her head falls against his shoulder as he continues rolling his hips against her, hardly noticing Astarion moving his hand from her hip to her lower back. A spark of panic zaps through her addled mind as she realizes where this is heading.

“Y-yes, I'm sure,” she insists, somehow managing to pull herself out of Astarion's embrace. The room spins around her as she turns to face him. “There's something I wanted to discuss with you,” she says breathlessly, vision finally starting to clear.

His expression falls, replaced by smug dissatisfaction. “You came halfway across the city… just to talk?” asks Astarion, narrowing his eyes.

Tav nods her head in agreement. “Yes, it's something rather important.”

Astarion groans low in his throat, grabbing the glass of wine off the desk and walking toward the office window. He brings the crimson liquid to his lips and takes a strong sip. “You could have sent a damned pigeon, if that's all you wanted,” he snides over his shoulder.

“Not about this.” Tav feels her throat run dry as she speaks. Her lust has settled for now, replaced by the live wire of anticipation.

“About what?” Astarion growls defensively. He spins around, entire body leaning into his words. Like an animal being cornered.

Tav flinches reflexively. It’s rare that Astarion ever raises his voice to her, even during disagreements. She swallows, hardening her resolve. “Don’t use that tone with me.”

Astarion hisses through clenched teeth, taking another long drink from his wine glass. His face softens. “I'm sorry, love, but I'm having a very rough time ascertaining what could ever be so important that you felt the need to bring yourself here,” he gestures wildly to the floor below him, “to me, just to talk?”

She doesn't respond.

The tension eases from his form as he studies Tav, clearly shaken by his display. He sucks his teeth in defeat. “Oh, for the love of Shar’s cunt, fine,” he groans. “If you're going to look at me like that, then fine, I'll bite.” He comes to rest on the chaise lounge near the window, knees spread wide, his forearms resting over the tops of his thighs. “So, what can I do for you, my friend?”

Tav winces, looking down at her hands as she fidgets her fingers. He's being heavily sarcastic, though at least it's an invitation to continue. “...There was an article recently in the Gazette,” she begins, voice quivering. “That spoke of a murder within the sewers.”

Astarion scoffs. “Unsurprising for those cesspits, but do carry on.”

Her eyes shift momentarily to his face before falling back to the floor. “It's reported that there were five victims in total. Three had their throats slashed, while the other two…” her voice trails off as her throat tightens. Tav tries to swallow, but nothing goes down. Panic rises within her, adrenaline building.

“The other two what, dear?” Astarion's voice is dark, firm. He stands from his place on the lounge, walking slowly over to Tav. He stands before her, brows pulled together, his eyes cast down upon her face. A hand comes up to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me,” he demands.

She gasps, Tav finally saying with some hesitation, “They had fang marks… embedded in their throats. Resembling the scars I bear.” She blinks. “The ones you gave me,” she adds, quietly.

His eyes darken with malice as his face contorts. His grip on her chin tightens, forcibly lifting her head to the side to observe her branding. Astarion pulls in a full breath as he looks over her neck, mouth dropping open in an exasperated exhale.

“...Do you know anything about this?” Tav chokes out, eyelashes fluttering rapidly.

“And why would I know anything about that, hmm?” Astarion lowers his head into the crook of her neck, panting heavily against her skin. Tav shakes from their proximity. He then drags his lips up the side of her face, resting them against her ear. “I'm not the only monster lurking in the shadows,” he whispers.

The hand on her chin falls to her hip, guiding her gently toward the lip of the desk. “I know how you think of me, darling.” Tav sucks in a sharp breath as her backside bumps into the wood. “That I’m the big bad wolf coming to steal you away in the night.” Astarion buries his nose within her hair, inhaling deeply as he pulls their bodies flush together again.

“A-answer the question, Astarion,” Tav insists, her head beginning to cloud.

“Oh, but wouldn't you rather hear what I miss most about you, Tavaria?” he growls into her ear. “What memories play incessantly again and again in my mind?” Astarion grinds himself against her center again, coaxing a suggestive moan out of Tav. Her arms rise to encircle his neck, her resolve beginning to shatter.

“A-Astarion,” Tav whines desperately. “D-don’t…”

He drops his head to rest their foreheads together, lips practically touching. “I miss how you’d writhe in my lap as I'd drink from you,” Astarion confesses. He pulls at her bottom lip, suckling the flesh between his. “The way you flutter around my cock when you fall off the edge for me.” He kisses her more thoroughly this time, groaning softly into her mouth as Tav’s jaw slackens. “But, do you know what I miss above all else?” suggests Astarion, pulling back. He dips his head again into the nape of her neck, a hand rising to gently hold the opposite side of her face. 

Tav grasps at the linen of his dress shirt, bunching the fabric within the palms of her hands. She's now rocking her hips in rhythm with his, a smoldering fire now roaring to life deep within her belly. Her body calls for him, and Tav wonders briefly if he can hear it.

The crazed beating of her heart? The lone song it sings only for him? The proof of their union that grows within?

“Your blood,” Astarion speaks against her skin. Suddenly he places his mouth over her scars and sucks voraciously, like a man starved. Tav moans, buckling at the knees momentarily. She grabs at his hair, threading her fingers deep against their roots for leverage. “Gods, there's nothing quite like the vintage of your blood,” he continues as he unlatches from her throat. The delicacy of her skin has given way to a mauve bloom; he smiles as he pulls away.

She shakes beneath him. If it weren't for the desk behind her, Tav would certainly collapse. He's trying to seduce her. Fuck her into submission – make her crave him so that she's more pliable, in whichever way he desires. These are his classic manipulation tactics, not unlike their humble beginnings.

“I know w-what you're doing, Astarion,” Tav says. “Don’t toy with me.”

He laughs – a quick condescending sound breaking free from his lips. “Oh, darling, you've been toying with me for months now. I'm very aware,” Astarion says with a smirk. He cranes his head. “Our dance is always the same – we fight, we kiss, and then I make the sweetest love to you as you weave your fingers between the very threading of my soul, ripping my heart free of my chest,” he adds with a sneer, pounding a fist over his heart. 

Astarion pauses for a brief moment to stare at her. He pulls in a quick breath and his face softens. “And I let you, every time.” Tav gasps as the hand holding her face slides to her chin, fingers tracing the outline of her lips. “But you?” he continues, gesturing to a shelf on the wall behind them with a nod of his head, “You keep yours high on a shelf, completely out of reach. No matter how I clamor for it.”

Astarion releases her, hands entirely off her being as he steps back. “I lay myself bare for you every time. But you refuse to see it. Refuse to see me, beyond the glitz and glamor.” He knits his brow again, and Tav swears she sees a hint of moisture gather at the edges of his eyes. “Yet, I say nothing, because this is the only way you allow me to have you. And I’d rather have some of you than nothing at all.” 

Silence blankets them both. 

Has she been unfair to him? Cruel? Has she so sorely misjudged who he’s become? Tav shifts her gaze down to the floor as the questions mount. Maybe he isn’t this grand demon she’s characterized him to be. His talk of power and control after the ritual – perhaps it was a rush of emotions? The first taste of freedom after so many years of indentured servitude? He seems more settled now, not in so much of a rush to bend the entire city to his will.

Perhaps… she was wrong?

“So, may we skip straight to the finale?” says Astarion, distracting her from her thoughts, “Because I’m not quite sure how much more of this I can take.”

Her mouth hangs open, too stunned to speak. Tav looks up; she meets his eyes.

Maniacal laughter as he bathes in a glowing red aura of 7000 souls extinguished.

His face when the ritual was complete. The way he roared. How he laughed.

No, she's not wrong for mistrusting him. He's worse than a devil themselves.

They stare into one another's eyes, the tension swirling about the room thickening. Tav blinks; he still hasn't answered her question. 

“You still haven't answered my question, Astarion.”

She stands firm.

He scoffs, turning his head toward the grand window. Astarion runs a hand over his face; he bites the top of a finger. “No,” he answers sternly, dropping the hand from his mouth. “I don't take particular interest in what happens within the bowels of this city.” He glances down at the fingernails of his closed fist, rubbing them across the front of his shirt. “My days of being a sewer rat are long gone, my dear.”

Tav winces. She's not entirely yet convinced. “Are you sure?”

Slowly, Astarion returns his attention to her. “Yes,” he growls low in this throat, “I am sure.” He tilts his head to the side as he lifts his brow. “Satisfied?”

Briefly she narrows her eyes, studying his face. Something about this… she's seen it before. He's pulled his face into an all-too-perfect expression. Not a muscle out of place.

“Yes, thank you,” she answers. Tav watches his liar’s mask slide off, replaced by a smug expression. He’s truly convinced he has her fooled.

How could she have ever loved such a horrid creature?

“Excellent,” Astarion hums as he clasps his hands. “Shall we return to more pressing matters?” His hands raise to caress the soft edges of her hips. He drops his face to her forehead, planting a soft, lingering kiss. Gently he rocks them together again.

He's turning this into his playground. His bargaining chip.

Sex. Lies. Manipulation.

He falls back on them every time. Seals every deal with the proposition of ‘a little death;’ wielding his body like a finely sharpened tool. In her case, if she doesn't play her cards carefully, Tav could very well be staring face to face with actual death. 

“Of course,” she sings to him. “I wouldn't be truthful if I said I hadn't been thinking of this.” She smiles softly to him, in just the way she knows he likes – a smile that reaches her eyes. It's her turn to start dealing her hand.

And just as expected, Astarion folds.

Hands reach behind her knees, Astarion lifting her up and onto the top of the desk. Their kiss is hurried as he slots himself between her splayed thighs, his tongue entwining itself around hers. Astarion's hands travel up again, one landing on her waist while the other palms at a clothed breast. Tav arches her back, pushing her chest into his touch. She sighs as he continues massaging the tender mound, mewling into his mouth as he pulls teasingly at her nipple. Breaking the kiss, she rests her forehead against the bridge of his nose. Her chest heaves as she tries to regain her breath.

Astarion releases her breast and slides his hand up to push the strap of her dress off her shoulder. “Lay down,” he commands with a whisper. Tav hesitates at first, but then moves slowly. She gently lays back onto the surface of the desk; the wood is cold against her exposed skin, sending a chill through her. Astarion leans forward, planting open-mouthed kisses to her neck and the newly exposed area of her shoulder. He travels down, suckling softly at the swell of her breast. She writhes beneath his touch as his hair tickles her chest.

“Ai armiel telere maenen hir,” says Astarion, kissing down the expanse of her abdomen. Tav grasps at silver locks, threading her fingers through Astarion’s hair as he begins hiking up her dress.

“You’ve said that to me before,” she pants heavily while stealing a look between her legs. An involuntary twitch ripples through her as he kisses the inside of her thigh. Tav feels him smirk into her skin.

“And still you’ve yet to seek out its meaning,” comes his prompt response. Astarion hooks his fingers into the hem of her undergarments, Tav lifting her hips enough for him to slide the fabric down her legs. They hang off one ankle as he resumes lavishing attention to her.

She arches off the desk as he kisses her mound, dipping his head momentarily to swipe his tongue teasingly up her slit. “W-uh, what d-does it mean?” she questions in a moan.

Astarion hums as he kneels before her spread legs. “You'll just have to find out for yourself,” he teases. Holding her legs open, he runs the flat of his tongue up her center, stopping to lavish her sensitive bud. He wraps his lips around her clit, suckling gently as he brings a hand to her entrance.

“What are you-” Tav exclaims, clearly panicked. Two of his fingers prod over her entrance, Astarion lightly teasing the tips in and out. Their eyes connect and he finally breaches forward, his eyes now rolling back into his skull as he continues lapping at her cunt. He curls his fingers, jerking his hand back and forth to pass over the intimate spot within. Tav’s vision begins to fill with searing white heat, her body writhing under him. He's bringing her closer and closer to release, and fast. More quickly than ever before.

“Gods, you taste even better than I remember,” he moans softly, adding fuel to the ever-mounting fire within her belly. Astarion kisses her opposite thigh, continuing the assault with his fingers. “Thiramen,” he says softly, sensing her proximity to the precipice.

The fucking Elvish. He surely hasn't forgotten the effect it has on her.

“D-don’t… not fair…” Tav whines, looking down between her legs as she runs her hands through Astarion's hair. Her thighs quake, the coil in her lower belly winding tighter and tighter as it threatens to snap.

Astarion meets her gaze, tongue once again passing over her swollen clit. “Thiramen eath’she,” he says. “Let shan nesh tel’quiet, thiramen...”

Astarion curls his finger with just the right amount of finesse and suddenly Tav’s body ceases. She cries out, loud and wanton, her release spilling into the palm of his hand. Astarion smirks and continues passing his fingers over her spot, coaxing her through the intensity of her pleasure. Tav pulls her knees together and finally rolls away from his touch, too overstimulated to take any more. Her chest heaves as aftershocks of her release rock through her.

The vampire smiles as he stands up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He begins undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. Opening her legs again, he leans over her. Tav’s face is flushed red, her eyes still closed as her mouth hangs open. He makes a quick mental note of her current state to call upon for later use. “So beautiful,” Astarion comments, snaking a hand down to the button of his trousers. With the deftness expected of a skilled rogue, he pops open the button and loosens the fastener. 

Tav finally comes to, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. “Astarion…” she breathes, raking her nails over his bare chest. Looking between their bodies, she follows his hand as he reaches within the waistband of his underclothes, pulling them down his thighs. His cock springs free and Tav gasps. Pre-fluid gathers at the tip of him and her eyes flutter upward to meet his again, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

“I'll stop, if you want,” Astarion whispers through kiss-swollen lips. Guiding his length to rest against her sex, he groans softly, resting his head against her forehead. Involuntarily twitches of his hips have his shaft sliding deliciously through her arousal. Both pull in a sharp breath when the head of his cock catches at her entrance, Tav’s body arching off the desk at the sensation.

Shaky hands rise to hold either side of his face, and Tav notices for the first time that evening how warm it is. A soft blush sits high on his face, across the tops of his cheeks. Astarion turns his head into her palm, planting gentle kisses. Any reservations begin to melt away at the gesture. “No,” she breathes, “it's fine. I want this.” Tav runs her thumb back and forth over his cheek. “Even if only for a little while.”

He nods, completely silent, then guides himself along her core. Her hands tangle within moonlit locks as he breeches her entrance. Her sudden pleasured moan is swallowed in a kiss, Astarion groaning out is own into her mouth as his length slips deeper, deeper, until he hits her end. Tav tastes the remnants of her release on his tongue; a bitter sweetness that tickles the back of her throat. An involuntary clenching of her walls around his cock as his tip kisses the end of her tunnel has Astarion moaning again, breaking their kiss. He buries his head within the crook of her neck, resting there for a brief moment as he bottoms out.

They lay still, Tav pressing a heated cheek to the side of his face. Inhaling deeply, she crosses her legs over the small of his back and pulls him impossibly closer. Astarion adjusts the angle of his hips and she gasps as the head of his cock pushes against her cervix again, slightly arching into his embrace. Gently he begins to rock his hips – short, teasing thrusts to test her readiness. He lavishes attention to her neck with languid kisses, suckling at the delicate skin.

This is… passionate. Intimate, Tav realizes. The words he cannot say aloud, that he's too afraid to say aloud, he'll express through this.

This is her Astarion. The man she fell in love with over a year ago. Here, like this, is him. Tav turns her face to plant reassuring kisses against his temple. “You can move, Astarion,” she tells him.

He doesn't lift his face, but she feels how he breathes against her skin. A hand comes up to thread within her hair, the other landing on her hip. He’s silent as he begins to move – pulling out before slowly plunging back in. They stay like this for a bit, Astarion rocking his hips into her core with added fevor. He glides smoothly as her arousal grows, Tav falling easily into their shared rhythm.

“Tav?”

She opens her eyes, unaware of having closed them. “Mmm?” she groans softly, mouth falling open in a silent gasp as he adjusts his angle.

“Do you trust me?”

It takes a moment, but she’s sure she hears a sort of sternness in his voice. Tav peels her head back to meet his eyes. They're wild – dark crimson pools that threaten to swallow her whole. Astarion breathes heavily through his nose, eyes cast down as he awaits an answer.

She opens her mouth to speak but the words catch in her throat. With a wandering eye she finds the ring laying next to her on the corner of the desk. Light gleams on the gold band, reflecting off the glass of encasement.

He kept the ring, she argues to herself. He kept his half of the rings.

Were he so terrible, would he have done that?

“I do,” Tav answers nervously, blinking rapidly.

“May I ask a favor?”

Astarion stills his movements. He holds himself up by his elbows, but not before guiding Tav to lay flat on the surface of the desk. She nods her head slowly as she looks up to him, inviting him to continue.

In an instant, her stomach twists. 

He smiles.

“It's been so long since I've supped of you, darling,” Astarion says, voice smooth as velvet. “Would you be ever so kind to grant me another taste?”

A chill runs up her spine. The room is cold, suddenly so very cold. She's ripped violently from the benevolent illusion of the moment, finding herself face to face with the very creature of tales long past. 

The innocent maidens. 

They always come for the innocent maidens.

She was nowhere near innocent – not for many years. But a maiden? Yes, of this she was sure.

She never did tell Astarion, but he was her first as much as she was his. Her mind may have still been fractured, but somehow she had certainty of that one fact. The moment he breached her maidenhead was the beginning of everything. Bit by bit he carved out pieces of her. Took them, stole them for himself. More and more she gave, all in an effort to appease his ever-growing lust for power and control.

Astarion is, and was, a rolling thunderstorm – lightning fit to strike for no reason other than he can.

And now he's asking, again, for more.

An overwhelming urge to cry is building within her, but she won't. She chose this. To be here, with him. Like this. The consequences of her actions playing out in real time. 

Her stomach twists again and she winces in pain. She understands his craving for blood well. The pregnancy has been kicking up old feelings; she believed them to be settled after the rejection of her Father. Can she really deny him his hunger?

Tav lifts her face to meet his gaze. Astarion is looking down at her with a blank expression. He silently awaits her answer.

“...D-do not turn me, Astarion,” comes her shaky response.

A deep rumble travels up his chest as he twists his face into a foreboding smile. “Of course not, my love,” he purrs, like a cat that finally got the cream. His hand twists within Tav’s hair, guiding her head upward to expose the long column of her throat. His eyes find her scars again and he sucks in a sharp breath, involuntarily jerking his hips into her core. Astarion’s arousal has flagged, though the promise of her blood has him twitching back to life.

Tav groans as she feels him swell within her, hooking her legs back around the small of his waist. Tears threaten at the corners of her eyes as she feels his gaze upon her. “Be gentle, please,” she pleads. Trembling hands rise to hold his shoulders as he moves into position, his mouth hovering above her neck.

Astarion peppers the underside of her jaw with kisses as he trails down her neck. “I would never dream of being anything but,” he speaks into her skin. He swipes his tongue over her mark, his mark, enclosing his mouth over the spot and suckling lightly. “You'll barely feel a thing.”

She could stop this. She should stop this. But instead, she lies in wait, bracing herself for the icy sting of his fangs piercing her flesh. Tav feels the points of his teeth press into her neck; she screws her eyes shut as they sink in, hands flying to the top of his head. She groans, gripping handfuls of silver hair. 

He's right – the pain is only momentary, replaced by a familiar, comforting warmth. Astarion sucks in earnest, mouthfuls of her blood rushing down his throat. With his cock fully replenished, Astarion resumes a steady rhythm, thrusting in time with each pull of blood into his mouth. He groans against her skin.

He desires this, he desires me, Tav reassures herself. The edges of her vision are beginning to darken; a telltale sign that she's reaching her limit. “Astarion,” she says meekly, trying to alert him of her condition.

Yet, he continues to drink.

She pants against his forehead as she tries desperately to break free of his hold. Her strength is quickly fading, more of her vision fading with each pull of her blood into his mouth. Still his thrusts continue; a numbness starts to spread from her core throughout her limbs.

“Astarion…” Tav calls again, voice barely above a whisper.

The ceiling is the last thing she sees before she closes her eyes. Even behind her closed lids the room spins. One hand slips from the top of Astarion's head and onto the table, followed shortly by the other.

As she slips closer and closer into unconsciousness, Tav makes peace with the fact that she chose this. She knew this was a possibility. She knew he desired this, and she gave it to him. Willing.

He outplayed her.

A single thought races across her mind before she fades, of the artwork in the foyer.

The vampire bites the woman he desires.

Finally, Tav succumbs to the dark. 

Astarion continues to drink.

----------------------------------

A/N: PHEW. Well. The art I referenced above I believe is a scene from a manga called "Blood Sucker," but I couldn't find an actual panel depicting the image above, even with reverse image searching. If anyone can find the actual reference, please feel free to inform me and I'll adjust the link. Translations for the Elvish are as followed: Ai armiel telere maenen hir - "You hold my heart forever" Thiramen - "I love you/my love" when referring to soulmates Thiramen eath’she - "I love you forever," again, in the context of soulmates Let shan nesh tel’quiet, thiramen - "Let go for me, my love," Sources are here & here

Hope you had fun reading!!

[redshoes-blues]

Emotional Time Travel: How Will Byers Controls Time in the Upside Down

"We are all time travellers, if you think about it."

Buckle up, everybody, this is gonna be a long one! :)

Over a year ago I wrote an analysis on the references to clocks throughout Stranger Things, and looked at how this connects to the show's specific form of time travel. This post is a bit of a redo of that original analysis, but this time I'm focusing on the idea that emotions have the power to alter the movement of time. And not only this, but Will Byers specifically has the power to control time in the Upside Down.

From the clock symbolism throughout the show to the time travel references, it’s clear that S5 is going to delve fully into the way the Upside Down operates; more specifically, I suspect we'll finally get answers to the question raised last season—why is the UD stuck on the day Will vanished?

I have some ideas on how that might work, and it has to do with emotions, which are described in ST as a way to time travel, as El says it best herself in the opening of S4: "We are all time travellers, if you think about it."

[CW: this will delve into the various forms of trauma and abuse faced by Vecna's targets in the show]

The Vanishing of Will Byers: Time Travel and Dimension X

First of all, let's deal with the obvious. The Upside Down, aka Dimension X, is a dimension that is stuck in the past. This is tied directly to Will Byers, given that it exists perpetually as the date he vanished. Therefore, entering the Upside Down is a form of interdimensional time travel.

To me, this could work in one of three ways, although a combination of these factors could also be at play here.

First, the UD could be a fixed point in time. A place where time doesn't work. It acts as a set piece, where characters can move around and exist within, but otherwise, it remains the same. In this case, it is quite literally frozen from the moment Will is taken. However, there are some things in the UD that do change. The weather, for example. Or vines that move and grow. So it's really hard to say how the fixedness would work. Perhaps, if this is the case, time is fixed and frozen, even non-existent, but space isn’t.

Second, is the idea that the Upside Down exists as a time loop. How long the loop would be, we don't know for sure. All we know is that the UD is stuck, somehow, on November 6, 1983. Maybe the loop is a single day long. Maybe it goes on for the entire duration of Will being missing. Either way, the time loop is certainly a plausible theory for how time operates in the UD.

Another important thing to consider is S5's use of A Wrinkle in Time as a source for inspiration, which brings me to the third way that time could operate in the Upside Down. Now, it has been awhile since I read AWIT, but there's an important concept in that novel called a tesseract. This is basically a way of travelling through time and space, to a fourth dimension. Looking at ST, this seems like a likely culprit for what's going on with the UD, which would be a sort of fourth dimension in this case. Vecna as much as says the UD is a fourth dimension himself:

"I became an explorer. An explorer of a realm unspoiled by mankind. I saw so many things, and one day, I found the most extraordinary thing of all."

But Vecna isn’t the only one to explicitly refer to the Upside Down as another dimension/realm. The government call it “Dimension X,” and the Party refer to it as the “Shadow Realm” pretty early on, an analogy to D&D’s location of the same name.

Now, I went googling for a description of the Shadow Realm, and I found this one that is very telling: “The Shadow realm is a realm caught between the realms of the living and the dead, a place where the boundaries of time and reality blur.” [link to article]

Looking at the UD, this absolutely makes sense as the location of choice that the Party (aka, the writers) chose to compare it to. As we’ve discussed, time does blur in the UD, and things don’t always happen as they would in Hawkins (there are strange storms, cosmic horror style monsters, etc.). Perhaps, in this realm, time itself doesn't even exist in a way that makes sense to us.

Now, going back to Vecna, we see that this sort of fourth dimension where time doesn’t exist as it should is exactly what he wishes to achieve.

On his motivations, Henry Creel says this: "Seconds. Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. Years. Decades. Each life a faded lesser copy of the one before. Wake up. Eat. Work. Sleep. Reproduce. And die."

Clearly, he feels burdened by the limitations of how time functions in the real-world. This is why, he explains, "I became an explorer."

Now, the Upside Down we see him enter is very different from the one that Will is taken to, and the one we see from S1 onwards. There are two people we know that may be responsible for this change in appearance. Either Vecna shaped the world to his liking, or Will did.

Maybe it's a both/and situation. After all, we know Vecna has powers and has been communicating with the Mind Flayer (who seems to be a sort of eldritch/cosmic god/force of the UD) for years. However, it is Will's vanishing that shapes the "time" of the Upside Down.

Will vanished on November 6, 1983, which is the same day that the UD is stuck on. This means that the Upside Down is inexplicably tied to him. Why it's tied to him is hard to say. He's the first kid Vecna kidnapped, and it is very interesting that he didn't just kill Will like he does his other victims: there's something different about Will.

I'll get into that later, but for now, what does this mean for Hawkins, where the UD is beginning to leak out of the gates?

As I mentioned previously, it's clear that one of Vecna's goals is to create a world that is "unburdened" by time's constraints. As the gates open up, we see a clock turning backwards (see: gif above), which may represent how time is slowing down or ceasing to exist the same way it always has.

If we want to get metaphorical about how time functions in Hawkins vs. the Upside Down and Vecna's mind lair, just look at the first sign of someone's Vecna vision, which is represented by a chime of the Creel house clock. For Vecna's targets, time is literally running out. Not only because they're about to die in Hawkins, but because they're about to enter a dimension where the passage of time does not exist.

"We Are All Time Travellers": Emotions Alter Time

Let's back things up a little bit.

Last spring, I was rewatching S4 to look for any references to time travel (turns out there's a lot of them when you go looking for them). It didn't take long for me to get a reference. In fact, there's one in El's opening monologue, as part of her letter to Mike.

"Dear Mike. Today is day 185. Feels more like ten years. Joyce says time is funny like that. Emotions can make it speed up or slow down. We are all time travellers, if you think about it. For example, this week is going very fast because I am so busy..."

In one sense, El's line here is describing how time can literally feel fast or slow depending on how we feel. For example, if we're busy and happy, time often goes by fast, but it we're upset, time can feel slow. Of course, I believe this line also has a deeper meaning that foreshadows what we later learn about the Upside Down being tied to Will’s vanishing.

It's no coincidence that in the season whose villain is represented by clocks, who is tied to a dimension where time is wonky, and who feels burdened by the existence of time, this opening scene mentions time travel directly. It's also important that El says this line. She's the one who opened the gate in the very first scene of the season, after all. She's also the one who goes through the NINA program, which is essentially sending her back into time (through her memories) to access her powers again. Isn’t it interesting that revisiting her traumatic experiences is what restores her powers?

If we take what El says literally, emotions actually have the power to speed up or slow down time, and not just our perception of it, depending on which emotions are felt. This bit about emotions is vital. As we know, the UD is shaped around Will's vanishing, which is a traumatic experience that he continues to deal with for years after it has occurred.

Now, this begs the question: did time in the UD slow down because Will left an emotional imprint on the landscape via his childhood trauma?

Again, it isn't a coincidence that Will's vanishing is the day that the Upside Down is stuck on. The "demogorgon"—which is pretty obviously going to be revealed to be Vecna—took Will into this fourth dimension, traumatizing him in the process.

All of Vecna's victims in the 80s timeline are also victims of trauma and/or abuse in their childhoods. Chrissy and Patrick have an abusive parent, and Fred has trauma from the car accident. Max has mental health issues and a complicated family life that we see in detail—an abusive brother whose death she blames herself for, suicidal ideation, a dad who isn't in the picture, a mom who becomes an alcoholic, and that's not to mention the inherent traumatizing circumstance of living in poverty. Will is also implied to have been abused by Lonnie, who called him homophobic slurs and turned into an awful deadbeat who doesn’t accept that his son doesn’t follow traditional masculine gender norms; he's also bullied at school for being different.

Each of these victims of abuse and/or trauma are all targets by Vecna. They have that in common. And we know that Vecna is targeting these kids on purpose because we see him sifting through his mind lair to select his next candidate. How does he do this? By looking at these kids' experiences and selecting someone vulnerable.

After Patrick is killed, Lucas and Max say as much when they discuss Vecna's motivations. To them, to be hurt us to be haunted:

Lucas: "It's like everyone Vecna targets has something in their life...something that's—"

Max: "Hurting them. Haunting them."

With this in mind, it begins to look as if Vecna is using the trauma and hurt of these kids because their emotions are strong enough to create gates, and therefore to alter—or even slow down—time.

Interestingly, the psionic powers of the lab kids seem to be impacted by their emotions as well.

Dr. Brenner tells the kids in the NINA memory to not use their emotions, but it’s One’s advice to El—to focus on something that makes her angry and sad—that helps her win the battle against Two. Brenner is so angry at One’s interference here that he tortures him for it. We know that Henry Creel was the original kid with telepathic powers who was experimented on. Somehow, Dr. Brenner learned to develop powers in these other kids, but it’s Henry/One who first received his powers from the Mind Flayer. Even as a kid, he understands that channeling negative feelings makes his powers grow stronger.

Before we look at why I believe Will is the only one truly capable of restoring the Upside Down to the way it was before, aka Dimension X, I want to dive a little bit deeper into Vecna’s targets themselves.

The Trauma of Vecna's Targets

There isn't a single main character in this show who isn't traumatized, hurting, haunted, or a victim of various societal pressures and/or forms of oppression. This isn't an accident. These themes are built into the show on purpose. Sometimes they aren't handled as well as they could or should be, but they're certainly present.

When we look at Vecna's victims, the reason they were his "perfect" targets is because of their vulnerability.

Lucas suspected Patrick was dealing with abuse at home, but Patrick never talked about it with anyone. Same with Fred's guilt about the hit-and-run. He's terrified of the idea that he'll be found out, so he never tells anyone about his visions. In the case of Chrissy, her own boyfriend has no idea about what she's going through, and she turns to drugs for an escape from her pain. If Max hadn't confided in her friends about her visions, equipped with her knowledge of Vecna and the Upside Down, then she would have had the same fate as them.

So, not only are Vecna's victims people who have something in their life that is hurting or haunting them (trauma, abuse, mental health issues, etc.), but they are also actively repressing these emotions. With this, I think the writers are trying to say that opening up about what you're going through with other people who care about you is vital to your survival and well-being.

Healing from trauma requires you to confront the emotions and/or experiences many people would rather suppress. I think El is a good case study for this. She is very clearly a traumatized character who is a victim of child abuse. Much of it is stuff she doesn’t actively remember, because she has repressed it, as we see in the NINA project. But despite her repression, the trauma, those memories, are still with her. She believes she's a monster, and she carries this guilt around with her for years. But El is also very resilient.

In fact, she confronts her trauma head-on in the NINA project. She relives her abusive childhood, the bullying she experienced, and the massacre, and she comes out of it a stronger person—even though she doesn't beat Vecna this time around, because she’ll require the help of someone else who is deeply tied to the UD if she wants to beat him.

Looking back at what Henry Creel knew from a young age, that his pain and experiences could be a source of his power, it becomes clear why he’s killing all of these traumatized kids. He’s doing so to harness the power in those experiences, perhaps because their emotions will affect the UD and cause time to slow down.

However, when El talks about emotions as a way to time travel in the beginning of S4, she isn’t just referring to negative emotions like boredom or sadness, etc. She also refers to positive emotions which make time move faster. If Vecna used his targets’ trauma to slow down time—originating with Will’s arrival in the UD—then maybe it is positive emotions, like love, acceptance, and healing, that will undo the changes Vecna has made in the UD.

Will The Wise: Why Will Byers is the Antidote

Will's connections to the UD are my main reason for believing he is the key to defeating Vecna. It began with Will, and it will end with him, too.

This is also supported in the text.

D&D always forms a direct analogy to the events that happen in any given season of Stranger Things, and it's through the lens of D&D that the Party describe the happenings in the Upside Down. For example, Will rolls a 7 in the first episode of the show, and tells Mike that "it [the demogorgon] got me." Later, the creature we're told is a demogorgon does get Will.

So, that's why the D&D campaign run by Eddie in S4 is very interesting, as it serves as foreshadowing for the rest of the season. An 11 is rolled first. This is a miss. It isn't until Erica—who is an unlikely hero in this campaign—rolls a 20 that Vecna is defeated.

It's crazy foreshadowing that an 11 is rolled, which isn't enough to defeat Vecna, in the season where Eleven is not able to defeat Vecna on her own, despite her powers being stronger than they've ever been. That's because power isn't the only thing at play, here. And we don't know yet who will be the Erica in this story, the underdog who will swoop in and join the fight, being the unlikely hero to defeat Vecna, but I think the missing piece will be Will.

It's like Dustin said in reference to his drawing skills (interesting, because when Will drew to solve the puzzle before, it was directly related to his connection to the Upside Down): "we need Will."

This brings me back to the main point of this analysis. If emotions alter time—with traumatic memories causing time to slow down, and causing Vecna to gain power—and if the Upside Down is shaped around Will's trauma, then confronting Will's trauma is crucial to Vecna's defeat.

Everything goes back to Will. To the moment he entered the UD on November 6, 1983. The very day the Upside Down is frozen on is the same day that Will's trauma began. By experiencing his trauma and imprinting those emotions onto the dimension, did Will quite literally grind time to a halt in the UD?

I certainly think so. And we've already seen a little bit of how positive memories can be used to fight against Vecna. Music is shown to carry positive memories and emotions, almost forming a shield around a person, as was the case for Max and Will, who were able to fight back through the power of music. If we take this a step further, it makes sense that healing from his Upside Down trauma, would work as a sort of antidote to Vecna, who feeds off of people's trauma. He only targets people, haunts them, if they are hurting. Heal the hurt, and he has no use for you any longer.

Functionally, this could work a number of ways. I think it could work by Will re-entering the UD and bringing positive emotions with him. Maybe the UD would reshape itself again, this time in a more positive way, removing the "rot" that has existed there since Will first entered. After all, Dimension X does not appear to be inherently evil like the Upside Down, it’s only when it begins to shape around trauma that it changes and rots.

Some Final Thoughts

If we consider that it was Vecna who took Will, then it’s clear that Vecna's goal isn't to kill Will. In fact, in S2, Dr. Owens asks Will if the evil wants to kill him, to which Will responds that the Mind Flayer wants to kill "everyone else."

Why? Because Will has powers that Vecna wishes to exploit for his plan. Because, by keeping Will and his strong connection to the Upside Down alive, he caused the Mind Flayer to enter Will, giving him the ability to feel what it feels—and later, in S4, to feel what Vecna feels.

My speculation, given all of the similarities between Will and Henry Creel, is that Vecna hopes Will will come to see his view as the correct one. He recognizes that Will is treated differently, that he’s an outsider, and he wants to exploit this to have Will join his side. Like the Emperor to Anakin, and later Luke, Vecna doesn’t actually care about Will: he’s manipulating his emotions to access his power. He didn’t keep him alive out of the goodness of his heart. He kept him alive because he knows that Will’s emotions have the power to alter time in the UD.

Killing Will simply wouldn’t serve his purpose of using his trauma to keep the UD stuck in time, grinding it to a halt.

Because, if Will’s emotions have the power to imprint on the Upside Down to the degree that he shapes the way an entire dimension appears and operates, everything begins to make sense. That’s why Vecna kept him alive: to continue his plan of removing the burden of time from the world. That’s why the UD is shaped around him. And that’s why Eleven could not defeat Vecna on her own.

Will controls time in the Upside Down. He shapes it through his emotions and experiences. His fear and trauma slowed down the movement of time, so, if Vecna is to be defeated, it only seems plausible that healing from his trauma, learning that he is loved and accepted for who he is—that he’s not a mistake—will have the opposite impact. By doing so, time will speed back up in Dimension X, healing it in the process.

In the end, everything began with Will. It was his vanishing that kicked off the story we’ve followed for what’ll be five seasons. And it’ll be him that brings an end to everything, as well.

Author’s Note

Thank you to everyone who stuck around and read this whopper of a theory/analysis! Writing it has been a long (but very fun) process. I started writing this about three weeks ago, as a rewrite of my old clock theory with more of a focus on how I think the UD functions, but then it grew into a beast of its own. I just couldn’t help it! When I get a meta idea about Will in my head, I can’t not write thousands of words about it lmao.

That said, I always love to read other people’s thoughts on these theories—it’s truly the best part of our little community on here. So please, feel free to add onto this if you have any ideas! :)

—Em

[bumblebriez]

Love Stricken (PT.2)

(Gojo Satoru x Chubby!Fem!Reader)

(PT.1)

⚠️⚠️⚠️: Swearing, Road head, Gojo swooooning, wrote this instead of sleeping.

Never in a million years would you think, you'd catch the eyes of a certain jujutsu sorcerer but you did and with that came alot of consequences. That you would eventually find out the hard way.

Your parents vanished a good couple of years ago with no knowledge of why and where, leaving you; the eldest, to care and provide for your younger siblings. Being responsible and forgetting about the life you used to live, you felt lost. Struggling a lot with your self worth.

Your best friend took it upon herself to finally get you to live your life a little more by taking you out on the town for a night.

But you found that night was the start of your downfall.

If the ending feels a bit rushed, it's because it is. I tried with this one but ya girl decided to not sleep and write instead. Mind the mistakes. <3

********

GIF by saewrq

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You stirred awake to a throbbing, deep in your core and an arm curled around your very naked stomach. You tensed a little, having forgotten how you got in this situation.

Last night flashed in your mind, reminding you of the activities you participated in. A deep blush formed on your face, remembering everything far too well.

The arm belonged to Satoru Gojo, the man who had completely fucked the life out of you. The ache he gave you, the unspoken promise, you'd have trouble walking the next day.

You'd half expected for him to throw you out on your ass after he was done with you but that wasn't the case at all. He was very good at aftercare, specifically the cuddling after a long night of sex.

He cleaned you up good, making sure you had gone to the bathroom and cleaned up all of his cum that was quite literally leaking out of you.

It felt very intimate. Not what you expected for a one night stand.

But honestly, you did not mind in the slightest. It was lovely and genuinely made you feel good. He treated you like a goddess. He treated you like he was a man, you would only read about.

But sadly this was where the fantasy was about to end, your next course of action..

How were you going to get out of Satoru's grip without waking him up?

You bit your lip as you moved your hand gently to grab his, grabbing a hold and moving it slowly to rest on your thigh.

Baby steps. One thing at a time. You thought.

You cringed a little as he stirred behind you, scared you might have ruined everything.

But atlas, he didn't wake.

He did happen to flip on his back though.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief as you slowly moved the covers off you, scooting carefully to the edge, pausing when you felt the man stir once again.

When you got the green light, you move to sit up; your feet dangling over the edge of his super king sized bed.

Your eyes scoured the room, looking for your belongings. You couldn't spot them anywhere. They must be lying by the front door since you mostly likely threw them down; when you and Satoru were quite literally attacking each other.

Just as you were getting the courage to stand on your wobbly feet, you fail to realise; that you did in fact wake the sleeping prince.

Satoru sat up slowly, a drowsy smirk on his lips as he rested against the headboard, placing his hands behind his head; admiring the view of your naked back.

"You're not thinking of skipping out on breakfast, are you?" You jump slightly at the sudden voice from behind you. He sounded husky and hoarse. His voice was attractive before but now.. you'd love to hear that every morning.

"Uhh. Potentially." Your own voice sounded hoarse from the long night of basically screaming your lungs out.

Satoru made a tsk tsk noise before pushing himself from the headboard, moving closer to you. Ghosting a finger down your spine, sending shivers through your body.

"I'm hurt sweetheart. Why are you in such a hurry?" He questioned, leaning forward to place sweet pecks along your shoulder.

"I thought you might've liked that I was gone before you woke up."

"What? No. Matter of fact, I would've been positively sad." You snickered a little as he crawled up your back, resting his chin on your shoulder, head tilted to look upon your face. His hands wrapping around you, holding you in place.

"Is that so?"

"Mmhmm. I think I might've even been depressed for a week." He hummed, pulling you back towards him.

"A week! That's insane. I must be a lucky girl." You teased. You didn't exactly know what to expect, you still didn't know how to take him. To you, Satoru was out of your league but here he was, smooching all over you; acting bummed out if you had left without any explanation.

"I'd like to think, I'm the lucky one here." You twisted your head to look at him, seeing the cheeky grin on his face, made your own one appear. He was giving you little shit vibes.

"Oh really? That's a bit of a hot take."

"Yes, I'd like to think so." His tone was seductive, reminding you of last night's festivities. He was the start of an addiction that you were scared you could never get rid of. You just continue to stare at his gorgeous features with a sweet smile.

"So how about that breakfast? That you oh so nearly missed out on?"

Though it took some trial and errors, Satoru managed to actually let you go to do what he suggested. Not before throwing you a top of his that you hesitated to accept and a cheeky comment.

"I would offer you some shorts but honestly, I'd love to see your ass."

You somewhat appreciated the offer but realistically, you didn't think you could fit your wide hips past the waistband. The shirt wasn't exactly big for you but it was loose enough to feel comfortable wearing.

It might be from his broad shoulders that it genuinely fit nicely on you. It didn't exactly hang off your shoulders but it didn't tighten around your stomach.

You spot your arch nemesis from the opposite side of the room that you failed to miss earlier.

The mirror.

The one that showed you all and harshly told you the truth.

You find yourself wondering over to it, staring at your reflection. Your reflection staring right back.

Your hand brushed along your thigh, travelling up and pulling Satoru's shirt, showing the bruising he had left in his wake. You did not mind whatsoever, you found it almost attractive.

But what you didn't like is what really caught your eye, the fading of stretch marks that were spread over your stomach. You were grateful that you had no new ones but the remaining remnants were still bad enough.

Your eyes fluttered closed, inhaling deeply. Prying yourself away from.. yourself. You didn't need to be bring yourself down right now. You wanted to stay and feel content. At least for now.

You wonder out of the bedroom, immediately being meet with an open floor plan, Satoru's back was facing from you as he worked at his sizzling pan. A tasty aroma floated through the air, delighting your nostrils.

All the furniture was white and black, an almost expected aesthetic.

But it did bring a little snicker out of you. Oh hell would it be a nightmare with little hands. Your kids would definitely leave their marks.

"Now. I'm well aware I'm hilarious but I haven't exactly made a joke yet." Satoru smiled turning to look back causing you to playfully roll your eyes at the grown man.

"Who says I'm laughing at you." He properly turned to face you; frying pan in hand. You made your way around the island, watching as he dishes up a simple breakfast; eggs, toast and bacon. You weren't complaining. It looked yummy.

Gojo decided to ignore your comment, instead sending a small smirk your way. His eyes looked you up and down, taking in your figure. The daylight shining on you, showing you off much better than being in the dark. There was something about seeing you in his shirt that just really got him going. It definitely showed off your curves and the fact you had nothing on underneath, no panties; what was stopping him from bending you over the counter and fucking you senseless. Again.

You were more than his type. There was nothing better than something hold on to. Your hips were absolutely perfect, not to mention that big ass you had. There was absolutely nothing wrong with a woman with large curves in his eyes.

"You're staring." You stated as you leaned against the kitchen counter, staring up at the tall blue eyed man.

"Am I? Is that a crime?" You shook your head, laughing lightly at the silly face he pulled. Satoru sat the pan on the bench before reaching for you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I mean.. it can be considered harassment." You teased as you cupped his elbow, allowing him to pull you closer.

"You should make an exception for me, you just look so good in my shirt." He moved to cage you against the counter, hands placed on either side of you. His face in close proximity. As much as you wanted to indulge even further, you knew you couldn't. This was suppose to be a hook up and you needed to get home. Considering it was a weekend, you knew your siblings would still be asleep and the last thing you needed was for them to see you in such a state.

You pressed a hand on Gojo's chest, pushing him back softly, a gentle but sad smile on your lips, causing the grown man to pout.

"I can't stay. I really need to get home." You whispered, patting his chest softly. You avoided his eyes, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by nervousness. You didn't know how he would react at you rejecting his advances. You were expecting the worse.

Satoru stepped back, a low whine slipping from his lips "Ahh right. I suppose, I shouldn't hold you here against your will.." You watched him continue to pout, expecting a whole different reaction but he continues to surprise you.

"Even though I did make you breakfast.." his foot kicked lightly at the linoleum, his body swaying along. Even though you knew what he was trying to do, it was different. There was no ill intent behind his words, no obligation to. No forcefulness.

"Are you trying to guilt trip me?" You teased placing a hand on your hip, tweaking an eyebrow at him.

"Is it working?" You slowly shake your head, a smirk resting on your lips.

"Ugh fine. Next time."

Your eyes widen at his confession. Next time? Gojo wanted to see you again? And here you thought, he felt the same way. Maybe being excited to get you out.

"What? is there something on my face?" He questioned while pointing at finger at his features.

You didn't know how to feel honestly. Inside, you definitely knew you wanted to see him again, wanting to actually get to know him beyond the sheets but realistically you didn't know if it was a good idea. Yeah he made you feel REALLLLY good, made you feel comfortable with yourself for the night but in the back of your mind, it felt sort of forced and you didn't know if it was just your head playing tricks on you.

What would happen if you fell for it and he completely turned around and said the same exact things, you heard with previous partners.

You'd honestly prefer ghosting.

"You want to see me again?" Your voice was small, nearing a whisper. His fingers lightly brushed across your chin, pushing some of your baby hairs behind your ear; with a tender smile.

"Most definitely." Your heart fluttered at his words but couldn't get rid of the fear, the trauma that plagued it.

Satoru was far from stupid, he could sense your hesitation from a mile away. One of the benefits from having six eyes. He couldn't truly understand why.

Why would you hesitate to accept further advancements from someone like Gojo. It intrigued him.

From since he was a teenager, he was used to woman literally throwing themselves at him and he would've definitely indulged in it. Throughout the years, throughout everything that had happened, he lost interest. Being a constant target and dealing with all types of curses, will do that to you.

The one night, where he took his students advice to genuinely have a night to himself, he found you.

It was like you were a breath of fresh air that he needed to inhale.

A drug that would nullify his senses and forget about the world around him.

He wasn't going to let you go, he just had to have you.

And he was cocky enough to know he would.

After eating breakfast together, you were gathering your belongings, trying to decide whether to put your club clothes back on.

Gojo was not having it.

"No no no. Just take them." Satoru was forcefully trying to push a pair of black sweatpants into your hands, determined to keep you in his clothes.

"Gojo. I can't steal your clothes." You muttered, pushing his hands away. This was what you were afraid of. The last thing you need is an awkward conversation about how you cannot fit his sweats.

"I don't mind at all. I MEAN I wouldn't mind seeing you in that little sexy skimpy dress again but I think it'll be even more sexier, seeing you in my clothes." This man will most likely be the death of you.

The rounds continued, you pushed his hands away and he'd push them right back.

"Fine! Fine! I'll wear them!" You exclaimed; getting fed up, snatching them from his grip. Expecting to prove this man wrong.

"He he he he." The man child giggled, choosing to ignore the annoyed look on your beautiful face.

Hiding your face behind your hair that flowed, you lean down to shove your legs through the holes of the pants, shimming them up.

To your surprise, they did in fact fit. Not exactly baggy but not tight either.

Tch. Stupid man. You thought.

"Perfect. Now, should we get going?" You quirked an eyebrow at him, his words leaving you confused. What did he mean by we?

Since your phone was flat, it was out of the question to ring anyone to come and get you. So you were actually expecting to just catch a bus home, only coming up with the plan now. You hadn't really taken in much thought on how you were going to get to the other side of town.

At least the walk of shame wouldn't be too prominent.

"Don't give me that look, Princess. I'm taking you. No objections." You huffed at the new nickname; blushing deeply. Having no more energy to continue fighting with this man, you gave a simple nod, shooting him a lazy smile.

**

You found yourself playing with Gojo's fingers once again as his hand rested on your thigh, his other hand preoccupied on the steering wheel.

You won't lie, you did somewhat miss intimate moments like these. It was somewhat relaxing.

There was something about Satoru's hands that made you feel warm inside. They felt calm. Steady.

But what surprised you the most about them, was the fact they weren't as soft as you thought they would've been. They were slightly rough to the touch, calloused but yet smooth.

You'd like to think hands told a story. Showing years of experience. Telling you exactly who the person could be. Satoru clearly has worked his ass off to get to where he is and in given time, he'll tell you about it.

You've managed to accept the fact that Gojo wasn't going down without a fight. He was a determined man. Seeming to know exactly what he wants and it's evidently he gets it.

But you weren't going to back down. If he wanted you as much as he says he does. He was going to work for it. You'd make sure.

"Why do you wear sunglasses? I mean the sun isn't exactly present?" Your mouth spoke before you could think as you glazed upon his attractive side profile. It was oddly strange to you. I mean, he was wearing them in the middle of a nightclub.. at night.

Gojo let out a light chuckle "My eyes are quite sensitive."

You had no reason to not believe him but something deep down was telling you that wasn't exactly it, you weren't going to integrate. You'd take his word for it.

It made sense to you somewhat, his eyes were abnormal. You've never seen such gorgeous irises before.

"Do you suffer from Photophobia?" You asked with genuine interest.

"Something like that."

You felt him squeeze your thigh, slightly. Your mind immediately start to stir with dirty thoughts, having an overwhelming feeling to feel his fingers on you again. You were slowly beginning to regret turning him down.

You chewed on your bottom lip as your eyes traveled down to his crotch. Your mouth started to salivate and his hand on your thigh was not helping. It was still a fair amount to get to your little home.

Maybe you could give him something to pay him back for his troubles.

"Satoru."

"Hmm?" He flicked his eyes to the side briefly, awaiting what he was presuming was another question.

"Can I give you head?" He nearly choked on air but kept his composure. Before a wide smile appeared. No. He was the lucky one.

After seeing his reaction, you didn't wait for a worded response, your hands already made their way over to work at his sweats.

He shifted in his seat slightly, removing his hand from your thigh and wrapping it around your seat; placed on the opposite side of the headrest.

His semi hard cock sprung free, a hiss slipping past his lips as the cold air touched his long appendage.

You didn't waste any time, wrapping your fingers around, slowly jerking him. You were in a trance, basically drooling at the site of his pink tip.

Satoru sighed lowly, trying to keep his eyes fixated on the road. His free hand moving from the seat to caress the back of your head, guiding you down.

Once your face was where it needed to be, your lips pressed a soft kiss to his tip, drawing a low whine from Satoru.

You layered small kisses down his shaft slowly and once at the bottom, you licked back up before wrapping your lips around his cock. You moved at a slow pace, bobbing your head up and down, tongue twirling around his tip.

Satoru's fingers made their way into your hair, pulling lightly at your roots. Your mouth is amazing. So warm and comforting. He tried his hardest to not buck his hips into your mouth.

"Fuck. You're teasing me." He groaned as he quickly looked down at you and back up to the road. Trying to ignore the urge to make you gag on him. His grip on the steering wheel tighten; knuckles turning white.

Your hand sat firmly at the base of his shaft, picking up your pace, taking more of his delicious cock. You pushed yourself further down until you felt the resistance of him hitting the back of your throat, causing you to pull him out of your mouth with a pop, allowing you to release the breath you were holding. Your hand resumed jerking him off.

"So impatient." You mumble licking your lips before shoving his cock back in your mouth.

"Fuck.." Gojo moaned loudly, pushing your head down slightly, listening to the sound of you slurping him up.

His hold on your hair tighten, tugging softly, pulling a moan from your full mouth. You were bobbing your head faster, sucking harder.

"That's it.." Gojo scooped your hair up that threaten to fall in your way with his spare hand. You continued to take more of his girth, his tip hitting your uvula. You moaned against him as he slowly started to rock his hips into your mouth, at a slow pace.

All you could think about was his cum shooting down your throat, the thought alone was enough to rub your thighs together to repel the growing ache.

Satoru's eyes looked upon you, watching your head bob away, relishing in the wet noises that were being produced by that pleasing mouth.

Quickly looking back up to the road, his head pressed back against the headrest as he felt himself approaching nirvana. His thrusts became sloppier, more desperate as you took him like the good girl you were.

"What a perfect mouth. You are doing so well."

You allowed Gojo to rut into your mouth without missing a beat at the back of your throat, he was close and you couldn't wait to swallow him whole.

Gojo let out a guttural growl as his hips thrusted a little bit harder. Your eyes rolling to the back of their sockets as you felt his hot cum shoot down your throat. You eagerly lapped him up.

You sat up back in your seat, wiping at the corners of your mouth, your lips were swollen and stinging with all kinds of sensations. You smirked at the panting mess of the man, a seductive and dazed look resting on your features.

"You keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna have to pull over and fuck you silly." He didn't even look at you to notice your face.

Of course he didn't need to, he was Satoru Gojo after all...

"I don't think you understand how much I really want too right now." He teased, his eyes flicking over to you.

You reach forward and shove his cheek to force him to look back on the road "We can't. I need to get home." Gojo whined dramatically.

"You can't just get away with that. Please give me 5 minutes." He pleaded desperately.

"No Satoru!" You giggled loudly, making Gojo's smile only grow wider.

"Please. It'll be quick." You continued to laugh at his desperation. Your head shook in disbelief.

"Watch the road Gojo!"

**

Your palms started to get sweaty as Gojo pulled up to your street. You started to feel a bit anxious, you were slightly freaking yourself out at the thought that maybe Satoru would completely change his mind when he saw where you lived.

You couldn't help it, you've obviously seen where he lives, that he does really well for himself, what is going to happened when he sees that you actually come from a lower class household...

Would he even care?

"Which one doll?"

"On the left, the little blue one." Your voice was small as you pointed towards your childhood home. You exhaled a breath when you saw Rast's car was still in the driveway.

Gojo pulled up to the curb, putting the car into park; turning to face you with a slight furrow of his eyebrows.

That small action was enough to put you on the edge, all of a sudden you wanted to get out of the car and never look back. You slowly reached for the handle before Satoru pulled out a little piece of paper; waving it in your face.

"I hope you call me. I wasn't lying about wanting to see you again." Satoru grinned at you with a slight tilt of his head. All of those unwanted thought flushed away as your fingers went to grab the small piece before he pulled his hand away.

You huffed as his grin turned cheeky, his eyes falling to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"You're not gonna leave me hanging, are you?" You playfully rolled your eyes, grabbing his collar with your fist, tugging him forward.

"You play too much." You whispered before capturing his lips with yours, his hand caresses your cheek; deepening the kiss. It was happening again that feeling, the way your lips moulded together just felt right and it drew you in more.

Your fingers fly through the air, grabbing the piece of paper that was in his other hand, snatching it gracefully before detaching your lips from his; denying anymore advances.

He sat back in the drivers seat, his lips slightly red and swollen, smirking. "Damn."

Gojo was speechless, for once in his life. All that was going through his mind, was the next time he was going to see you. He will be counting down the days. He was already craving his next fix.

You take your chance and push open the door, stepping out of the car; closing the door behind you softly.

"What? No kiss goodbye?" You leaned down to poke your head through the window, staring at his playful pout.

"I just kissed you!"

"Yeah that wasn't a goodbye." He protested, leaning forward to get closer to you; hand resting where you were just sitting.

"Goodbye Satoru." You leaned your hand in to brush against his fingers before pushing yourself away from the car. You weren't going to give in. He needed to work for it.

Even if that means you were going to play hard to get.

As you started your walk to your front door, you heard the white hair man call out from behind you.

"You and that ass of yours, better call me!"

Satoru couldn't hold it in, watching as you waltzed away with a sway of your large hips, your ass on full display in those sweats of his. You were a tease.

And you were definitely going to regret it.

"If you're lucky!" You called back with a wave of your hand, not bothering to turn around, hiding your bright grin and red cheeks.

He really was going to be the death of you.

**

You push open your front door, walking inside and tossing your heels and bag on the ground.

"Um. Whose Matte Black Dodge Challenger Hellcat is that?" You rounded the corner to the living room, spotting Rast peeking behind the curtain; eyes glued out the window.

"Your love for cars is.. something else." You sighed, resting your hands on your aching hips.

"Damn bitch. He did a number on you.... Good night?" Zariah giggled as she looked up from her phone, a wide grin resting on her features. You couldn't hold in the uncontrollable smile that was forcing itself onto your lips.

"You could say that."

After being forced down on the couch, you proceeded to tell them about your night. Leaving out the intense parts, which you will mostly tell Zariah later.

You couldn't help your cheeks when they started to flush with heat, covering it up with an awkward laugh as you were trying to explain, though it was very tame compared to what actually happened.

Zariah was giggling like a little girl and Rast basically sat there with his fingers in his ears.

"Blah blah blah! I don't wanna hear anymore!" Both of the girls snickered at the blonde man.

"What all I said was, I gave him-"

"STOP! I regret my decision!" You burst out laughing at the light blush on his cheeks, Zariah just rolled her eyes at her boyfriend.

"I don't know why you're freaking out so much, you quite literally tell me when you are fuck-" Rast quickly covered her mouth, his blue eyes penetrating her own, causing the girl to chuckle into his hands.

Your shoulders shake as you let out a hearty chuckle before gripping the arm of the couch and pushing yourself up.

"I'm gonna have a shower before the little snots wake up." Zariah quickly stood up, her hand shot above her in the air.

"I'm coming too!"

You filled Zariah in on the juicy details that you purposely left out, she was beyond shocked and also happy, which is why now you are in this predicament.

"What do you mean you don't know! He's clearly very interested and you want to pass it up?" You dried your hair with your towel, aggressively.

"I don't know what I want. It just seems too good to be true." You mumbled as you dug through your drawers for a fresh pair of panties.

"He's out of my league."

"Tch. We are not doing this. You're fucking gorgeous. Call him. I repeat, don't leave him hanging for too long." Your best friend scoffed, shoving your phone into your hands before exiting your room; leaving you with yourself.

What were you going to do?

What did you want?

The rest of the day was a blur to you, the lack of sleep was really catching up with you.

Zariah and Rast ended up going home not too long ago, leaving you in the kitchen, staring down at the small piece of paper; that sat nicely on the counter.

You sighed deeply, resting your chin on your palm.

Why do you feel nervous?

Your stomach was churning, your head was throbbing and your eyes were teary; ready to have a nap.

Your fingers tapped against the counter, vigorously; drumming a beat.

Bitting your bottom lip, you grab your phone and punch the number Satoru gave you, hesitantly putting it to your ear.

As you heard the ring, you peeked through the kitchen door, eyes setting on your little sister; who was happily watching her movie.

Your breathing hitched as you heard the line pick up, hearing his voice again.

"Yo."

"Hi. Satoru."

There was a slight pause, making you even more nervous.

"Who's this?"

You couldn't believe your ears, almost feeling irritated. Nearly falling for it once again.

...

"Are you serious?"

Before you could lose your mind and go off, there was hearty laughter on the other end.

"I'm only joking doll. I was wondering when you were going to call." You face palmed aggressively, feeling slightly annoyed.

"You're lucky I even did." You spoke before you could think, slight irritation in your tone. You immediately regretted it.

But he only chuckled at your response "I must be very lucky then."

You smiled slightly, thankful he didn't take it the way you intended.

"So.. why did you want me to call you?" You had a slight teasing tone to your voice.

"Hmm. Maybe so I could take you out. Get to know you a little. Have some fun." You blushed lightly at his words.

"I think this is a bit backwards." You pointed out, a smirk resting on your lips, your back going to lean against the counter.

"Eh. Now we don't have to feel guilty about fucking on the first date." Your mouth hung agape, quickly closing it before you caught flies.

Before you could even get another word out; express your opinion on the matter.

"Gojo Sensei!"

You heard from the other side in the background; needing to pull the phone away from your ear at the screeching.

"Gotta go! Talk to you later beautiful." His farewell was quick, not willing to wait around for another moment. As the called ended, you just stared at your phone with a dumbfounded expression.

Did you hear that right? Is Gojo a teacher?

You wouldn't have guessed that would be his occupation. To be honest, you don't know what you would've guessed..

"Sidda?" Your eyes fall upon the six year old that was pulling at your shirt.

"What would you like little girl?" You ask with a forced smile, lowering to her level.

"I'm hungry.."

[qprpbj]

ik u posted ab this like a million and one years ago but ur pb&j runaway au literally haunts me. like literally stare up at my ceiling at night thinking about how fcking upset soda and darry would be haunts me. so i must know how do u think that went down 😣 like who brought up running away who actually brought it up as a Serious Thing They Could Do was it impulsive or heavily premeditated did they have a very solid plan HOW DO THE GANG REACT TO ITTTT omg this au haunts me SO BAD u have no idea 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ in my head i envisioned it as like they have a plan and a set day but then darry does smth that Really pisses pony off and he’s like “johnny 😐😐 idc we were meant to go in two weeks we’re going NOW i fcking #hate my brother” SO I NEED TO KNOW HOW U ENVISIONED IT i’m dying dead no matter what btw i love ur mind about the outsiders

stop bc i thought i elaborated more on that but when i scrolled down my account i literally made one half assed post and that IT oh that is so insane. i literally think about them on the daily though it’s not even funnyyyy so this ask made me so happy 🙇🙇 (just so you know these are basically all just messages of mine copy pasted from chats with @girlishwhimsies bc i’m too lazy to write it all out in diff words and bc the lore for this au still EATSSSS but id be SOOO happy to elaborate more on anything :D)

- i’m imagining some universe where like. the slap and everything never happens but that also means pony never really has a reason to bond with darrel so it just stays tense and weird for years and eventually he’s like. 16/17 and johnnys 18/19 and everything’s just gotten worse and both of them are so tired of their lives here. pony sees some obscure movie at the theatre and/or reads a new age book that’s set in new york about queerness in some way (idk what movie and/or book. will have to research) a la i’ve seen it in the movies and in the books i’ve read, this place is real, it’s not just in my head btw. and pony brings this to johnny and excitedly tells him this plan he has to just. up and run away to new york. he can drop out and change his name and get new ids (it was the 60s tbf) and say he’s a year or two older and he’ll get a job too with johnny. that they don’t have to just dream about being far away from tulsa, so to speak, they can just. do it. the only thing stopping them is themselves and their fears

-pony going to the library and stealing maps and checking out like 10 books about travelling and saving money and about new york and. maybe one or two he hides about queerness

-them asking dally what new york is like and dally getting all pissed but not thinking much of it. then suddenly they’re vanished with all their belongings overnight and dally knows Exactly where they’d have gone. the gang has to follow them but they never catch up

-dally shooting up in bed one night like a week later at like 3am rushing over to the brothers house all i know where they are. they asked me about. about new york the other day. oh my fucking god and darrel’s all just??? new y— NEW YORK?? what the hell did you SAY TO THEM??

-frankly i think they’d wanna go and look after them but they’re poor and darry has a job so. they just put out missing persons requests and have no choice but to call it a day. darry feels guilty but they were never that close but. but soda??? soda knowing pony ran away from him??

-i think pony would leave some cryptic message in a copy of gone with the wind (ironic) addressed to soda in the cover before he leaves but soda literally doesn’t read so he probably doesn’t find it it for ages. something about how you were the only thing keeping me alive in tulsa but i gotta go be my own person now, get away from all of this shit

-darry turns what remains of pony’s room upside down inside out looking for anything but. there’s absolutely nothing left for him

-pony sends a letter back to soda a couple months later all were safe and sound in new york and we really miss you, sodapop, every day. tell dally new york ain’t as bad as he thought…he oughta give it another shot someday. maybe you too, soda. tulsa ain’t home to people like us, soda, you’ve gotta understand why we had to leave

-he sends his first letter without a return address yet bc he’s not ready for soda to know where he is but the next one!!!

-by then it’s been like six months and pony’s hair is bleach blond (smiles) and he looks healthy for maybe the first time really ever. pony sheepishly coming out from behind his friend in some goofy totally-not-pony outfit (bc he’s fallen in loveeee with fashion. btw.) and soda hugs him so fucking tight he swears he stops breathing for a minute

-you know…darry’s been real choked up since you left. you know he…he gets it, right? he’s like you. n’he’s real torn up you left when he couldn’t, honey.

-maybe you…could bring him here, too. there’s family here for him if..he wants it. he’s just gotta get brave like i did.

[lex-the-flex]

Here With Me

Luke Skywalker x reader

Summary: Acting on instinct, Luke Skywalker has to let go of control, even if it means saving someone he loves.

Word Count: 970

Warning(s): HEAVY ANGST, descriptions of torture, injuries, and mentions of the Dark Side, Luke unleashing literal hell + tampering with pure rage, action and violence, (only the destruction of Dark Troopers) MEGA FLUFF, Luke being a dutiful Jedi Master, and love is powerful than the Dark Side.

A/N: Got this idea from @winterinspace and I LOVE IT! I can totally see Luke doing this for anyone he cares about. Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

Tears formed in your eyes as you let out a scream like no other. Your vocal cords strained from the effort while the rest of your body went numb to the pain. Your face remained drenched in sweat and the lingering taste of iron coated your tongue.

Even through gritted teeth, you refused to give the Empire what they wanted. You wouldn't spill the information on where you last saw Luke Skywalker -- or where he was going.

To the Dark Troopers, you were just toying with them, allowing them to make a fool of themselves. However, you truly didn't know where Luke was. One night he suddenly vanished from the Rebellion without any warning and you were put on the front line, much to Leia's dismay.

"Alright, R2. I'm here." He informed the droid.

Waking from the quick meditative nap, Luke's eyes adjusted to the vast darkness of space, praying that the compass' intention was true. Otherwise, he'd lose you forever.

On the X-Wing's computer, the coordinates for the suspected planet appeared, and they only made Luke's demeanor remain the same: get you and get out, no matter the cost.

Descending through the planet's atmosphere, a distinct series of embers began to light up beneath Luke's icy blue eyes, fueling the man with a strong fury. Jumping down from the ship's ladder, he hit the ground with such a strong force, it caused the ground to crack below him.

Unzipping the orange jumpsuit, his raven-like robes escaped from the plastic zipper, revealing his Mastery to no one but the mountainside. Unsheathing the dark cloak from the storage shelf, the piece of

fabric flowed in the cool breeze once Luke draped it over his shoulders. Unhooking the silver and gold lightsaber at his hip, Luke headed down the mountain with a single command.

"Stay here, R2. I'll be right back." 

****

The facility's nature surrounded the halls with an eerie silence, it nearly caught Luke off guard. He expected to have gone through at least a great majority of the base with half of its inhabitants on the floor. Quietly shaking those thoughts from his head, Luke knew he couldn’t go that route; to the Dark Side. As did his Father all those years ago. But now, he had no choice. 

Ducking in a hidden alcove, Luke patiently sat against the wall. Stalling his breathing, he focused with the Force, surrendering to its blissfulness in a daze.

In and out.

Concentrating, his dark brow fluttered and scrunched together just as the vision of you filled the darkness behind his eyelids. You were all alone in a cell, shaking from the pain with cuts and bruises all over your exposed skin. Barely hugging your legs, your head sat on your cut up knees, hoping to find some solace in this place.

'You are not alone in this fight, Y/N. I'm here for you.'

Lifting your head to his declaration, your eyes welled with tears at the sight of two Dark Troopers standing at the cell's door.

'Luke, no...'

"No, please don't--" You pleaded, but it was too late.

Suddenly, a painful scream left the pits of your lungs once a taser was shoved into your side. Luke unconsciously balled his fists together, remembering a similar pain he left, where the Emperor himself left the young man hideously scarred. The pain you endured mirrored his own and Luke swore never again.

Opening his eyes to the empty hallway, his once calm and passionate soul-piercing eyes shifted within seconds. While they remained blue, all he saw was red. Something buried deep inside his chest, his heart had finally snapped.

And everyone in this facility had to pay.

Rounding the corner to the prison block, Luke ignited his green plasma blade, not even caring who was on the other side. HIs anger rose up in an untamed fury whilst a wave of adrenaline coursed through his veins. The two droids rounded you up by the wrists and drug you to the middle of prison, ready to strike again.

Luke marched through the hallway with heavy steps, instantly blocking the rain of blaster fire that was impending down on him. Working his way past each of the Troopers, Luke pulled, shoved, and deflected every single shot, punch, and kick that would slow him down. With each defeated sound and whimper that left your chapped lips was more than enough to fuel his angry attacks.

Moving swiftly down the hall, Luke slammed his lightsaber down on the remaining Dark Trooper who laid on the floor. Hitting the cold and dark metal again and again, the hot plasma beam cut through the machine like butter, making a cold and heartbreaking memory creep into the back of his mind.

'You will not take her from me!'

Entering the main section of the prison, Luke was greeted with the sight of the two Troopers repeatedly pounding their mechanical hands and butt ends of their blasters into your broken skin. Then, in a flash, the pain stopped, and you were greeted by the sight of the Dark Troopers crunched into tiny pieces on the floor.

Gazing up at Luke, his breath remained as frigid gasps once he realized what he had done. Seeing the utter fear in your e/c eyes brought him back to the world, making him understand that he tampered with the Dark Side. His fury and rage fueled him like no other, allowing him to part his enemies like the ocean. And you were his saving grace.

Feeling tears well up in his eyes, he calmly walked over to you, and gently picked you up without a word. Silently carrying your sore and nearly broken body, Luke's heart began to heal and mend itself back together, leaving behind an unspoken wake of destruction in his path.

taglist ~

@dreamliners

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@dailydragon08

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@sonofthedunes

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@bsxcrxts

@maybe-if-youd-listen

@shions-new-blog-of-stuff

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, flighty!reader, reader works in forensics, prohero!katsuki, aged up (around mid 20s)

a/n. this was fun to write lmao. this is definitely not self-indulgent :0 again, would surely appreciate reblogs and comments <3

You’re a runner.

And no, not in the dystopian, getting-out-of-a-manmade-maze sense.

You run from feelings.

And that happens to include the kind when someone gets a little bit too close for comfort.

But you also do run in the literal sense.

In fact, you just did.

Panting, you round the next corner of your office building’s hallway, what was once a sprint (at least, the type that was possible in a crowded skyscraper in Tokyō) now faltering into a light jog.

Huffing, you chance a peek behind your shoulder, a sigh wracking your body when you conclude that the man of the hour is finally out of sight.

“What’s up with you?”

The man’s red-headed best friend quirks an amused eyebrow at you when you halt at the sound, startled.

He slows down in his steps as he appraises the mess that you currently are; from the looks of it, he’s heading in the direction you’re desperately trying to run away from, and for a split second, you’re half your mind to drag him with you to the elevator and vanish before the man could spot the both of you.

Why the fuck are you acting like this?

“I—Was just wanting to—” At this point, you’re severely out of breath. And you’d chalk it up to the physical exertion you definitely aren’t used to, but you know it’s more than that.

The warmth of your cheeks seems to suggest that, too.

“Hold up.”

You look up at Kirishima, one hand still on your hip to help keep you upright despite the exhaustion.

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting with Bakubro?”

Even just the mention of his name triggers your fight-or-flight response.

It also happens to send a flood of longing right through you.

“Yeah,” you rasp, before checking over your shoulder again. Coast: still clear.

“What are you—” Kirishima starts, eyebrows pinched in confusion, before what looks like realization and amusement flash across his features.

“Did he—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off before he could say it.

Apparently, being confessed to out of the blue by the man you’ve been in love with for a year cuts your sentence-formation capabilities to not more than one worded ones at a time.

Just as you expected, worry dances its way across Kirishima’s face.

“Are you running away from him?”

You choke on your spit.

“Hey, easy, Y/N,” Kirishima says while awkwardly rubbing your back as you cough your lungs out.

You stand upright when you finally gather your bearings, ready to explain, or attempt to explain to Kirishima (but more to yourself) why you just fled the meeting room where you and Bakugou were discussing the forensics of his new case.

It’s not like you didn’t see it coming.

The feelings, not the outright confession.

Midoriya, Kirishima, and his other friends have made it pretty obvious with their background teasing that the emotionally constipated blonde has taken a particular interest in you.

(Background because the aforementioned blonde would indubitably kill them if he found out they were teasing you, let alone about him.)

You just couldn’t bring yourself to believe it and hell—start to hope—until a while ago, when the Bakugou Katsuki himself slammed his fist on the table, spitting out the three words you’ve been dreaming to hear from him since you first worked on that gory ass mission together.

Well, four. If you count the curse slotted among the ‘I like you’.

But as it turns out, the reality of it all—Bakugou’s vulnerability, mutual feelings, and possibly dating a Pro Hero—scared you.

And so you ran.

And you were about to confess all this to poor Kirishima when a booming voice echoes through the hallway, effectively triggering your (definitely) flight response once more.

At that, you bolt to the elevators, leaving behind a speechless Kirishima.

Luckily for you, Bakugou has always been good at chasing what he wants.

[syoish-aot]

"I Found You" - Reader/Eren reverse isekai - PART 3

word count: 1022, still rated T [updated June 27]

<- PART 2 | PART 4 ->

*********

“Eren’s acting weird today.” You tell Jean, an hour later and shortly after arriving at the restaurant. It was the soft opening of Niccolo’s bar, and he’d invited all of his friends to try out the menu and get day drunk.

To all of your friends, it seemed like the perfect way to spend a Saturday.

The bar was right in the middle of downtown, split into two levels with a more fancy dining area and a patio upstairs, and the casual bar in the lower level. Niccolo had been working for years to open it, and everyone was beyond excited that his dream had finally come true.

You wished you were more in the mood to celebrate. Unfortunately, all you could do was run your weird morning through your head as you thought about Eren.

About how he was being so… well--....

“He’s always weird.” Jean dismisses your comment with the casual wave of his hand as he takes another sip of his beer from where you’re both standing, leaning against the bar as you look out at the restaurant.

“I’m being serious.” You reply.

“So am I.” Jean shrugs.

When you don’t reply to the obvious ribbing from your friend (something that would normally get you caught up in at least five minutes of back-and-forth banter), he looks over at you. Jean clears his throat. “What happened?” He asks.

“I think he had another nightmare that really fucked him up he-” you sigh, “he totally forgot about today and the whole drive here he was just staring out the window, not saying a single thing. He’s been raving about the restaurant opening for months and now it’s like he completely forgot it was even happening. It’s just-... It’s reminding me of third year, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

You begin fiddling with the sleeve of your dress. “Remember that morning he had just... disappeared.”

It was back when most of your friend group was still in university. Back then, Eren and Armin were sharing a dorm and one night Eren vanished. All day, no one knew where he was. He’d left his phone, keys, and wallet at home and hadn’t told anyone he was going somewhere. He’d missed class, practice, and the plans the two of you had made to meet up for lunch.

You were ready to put in a missing persons report when that evening he just-… came back.

Around 7pm, he walked back into his dorm acting completely normally. He said he needed some time away from everyone and think about something, but as he said it he had this look in his eyes. A look that… you weren’t sure what to make of.

The same look he’d had only a few hours ago; after he released you from where he’d pinned you to your bed.

“Yeah...” Jean agreed as he swirled his drink in his glass and stared down at it in deep concentration.

“It’s just reminding me of that.” You say. “All morning he was so stiff and awkward. He said it was just a bad dream messing with his head but he-... he didn’t know who I was, Jean. He knew who Armin was though. And you. Sasha, Connie, Reiner, Annie, Mikasa, Marco, Ymir- literally everyone but me and I-”

Then Jean starts choking on his drink.

“Jean!” You exclaim as you move the drink from his hold and place it on the bar, patting his back with your other hand.

“It’s-” he manages before another cough, “It’s nothing!” Jean coughs again. “b-bye” He status as he pushes away from the bar, still trying to clear his throat. “Armin-”

You’re left there, alone at the table with only Jean’s beer for company. Completely confused as you watch him push through your group of friends in search of Armin.

You’re somehow left even more confused than ever.

And as you glance across the restaurant, Eren is nowhere to be seen.

***

Armin looked different than he had before.

Sure, he still had the same blonde hair and wide blue eyes; but the way he was looking at Eren reminded him of the little boy in Shiganshina, wishfully rattling off facts about the outside world.

There was life to him, Eren realized in an instant.

There was life.

“Eren,” Armin laughed. “You really are spacey today.”

“Sorry…” Eren mumbled, unable to look away from his best friend as he recalled the last time he’d seen him: when they’d sat together in a pool of blood and Armin had held him tightly, crying about how they were both irredeemable monsters.

“What’s that look for?” Armin asked him with another laugh.

“You’re… You’re here.” Is all Eren can manage to say. 

“Oh no.” Armin sighs. “Did you already get to the champagne? It’s barely even two in the afternoo-”

“Where’s Mikasa?” Eren suddenly asks. He hadn’t seen her yet.

He had seen plenty of other people he knew, which made him do a double take as he entered the restaurant and everyone greeted him like nothing was wrong.

Like hadn’t recently killed 80% of humanity and led to the deaths of plenty of the people in the large restaurant.

Like he was meant to just be here and some-... some party or something.

Honestly Eren wasn’t sure what the event was; but that wasn’t important, what was important was finding Mikasa. 

“Eren are you feeling alright?” Armin asks, pulling Eren out of his thoughts.

“Where are we, Armin?” He asks bluntly.

“Um… fourth and center street?”

“No. I mean-...” Eren looks away from the restaurant and back at Armin. He has to know what’s going on, right? “We said we’d-... you and I promised. We promised we’d meet in hell. Is that where we are? Are we... Armin, are we in hell?”

Armin’s eyes widened as the playful twinkle of life that had been in them before completely vanished. “Eren you-”

“Armin!” Suddenly Jean was at their sides, he grabbed Armin by the shoulders and shook him. “It’s Eren he’s- he’s-”

Armin finished the sentence for him as both of their eyes fell to their friend:

“Eren’s awake.”

[anonymous-dentist]

Okay, so read this one-shot for context, but:

So Cellbit is a retired supervillain. Once upon a time, he was one of the most dangerous villains in Q City: Enigma- a dude so dangerous that the Federation of Heroes is still trying to find him.

See, Enigma was one of the first people to be born with an ability, and it was a fucking dangerous one. 'Cause he could make people scared. That is to say, he could control people's fear. He could sense their fear, he could amplify it, he could nullify it, he could find out exactly what they were scared of and use it to literally scare them to death and walk away with their wallets and the keys to their car.

But then Cellbit got arrested for a murder three years ago. One of the Federation's lower-ranked heroes attacked him as a civilian, and he killed them out of self defense. So Cellbit was sent to prison as himself, and Enigma seemingly vanished out of nowhere, never to be seen again.

(The Federation would like to offer a $500,000 reward for any information on Enigma's identity or his whereabouts. Please notify the nearest Federation office if you have any information.)

But then he got out of prison and now he's working as an "abilityless" reporter trying to support himself and his family- because somehow his friends all managed to acquire a kid while he was in prison. He's given up on his whole villain thing because, really, that was just his edgy phase. He's over that now.

...But he's also working to try and take down the Federation because it's corrupt and it's evil and it's literally running Q City like a dictatorship despite there being a fucking mayor and he wants it gone.

The problem with that is that he's alone in this. The Federation has every single one of the city's heroes on its payroll, and it sponsors the majority of the city's vigilantes. That leaves villains, who Cellbit is trying to avoid, and it leaves-

Spider-Man. He's one of the few vigilantes left not directly working for the Federation. He's a mystery. Nobody knows who he is, nobody knows why he's a vigilante or where he got his powers from, and- most importantly for Cellbit- nobody knows why Spider-Man has seemingly suddenly started sabotaging Federation operations. He's one big failed Federation mission away from being put on the city's official villain registry, and Cellbit wants him.

So he's going to find Spider-Man. He's going to explain his plans, and he's going to ask for his help, and the Federation will die, and it'll be beautiful.

...Speaking of beautiful, Cellbit is liking civilian life. He's got this new friend, Roier, an employee at a taqueria near the Federation's city hq. He might be buddies with a bunch of Federation employees, but that's fine. He's cute. He's a Spider-Man fanboy, he's a psych student at the local university, he's funny.

(And isn't this all convenient for both of them?)