#I forget about it for a little while and then I remember that like

[boowritess]

i love love love the headcanon of the 141 not having kids and babies and ewey.

i think that john price is still very relevant to that. kinda. i don't really seeing him having a pet honestly. unless you wanted one... sure... but nah y'know... he's old tired af. maybe a cat. probably definitely a cat.

but it's been you and john for as long as you can remember.

happy to be in each other's presence from morning to night, or simply just exist in a shared life that means you two don't have to always be around each other.

you could be shopping and he could be sleeping. he's outside tending to the stuff he had supposed to finish before he left deployment while you're reading on the couch inside. he's on a long deployment again, and you're at work.

plus the prospect of kids just never seemed to work into the schedule. "nah," john says to one of your friends, "can handle kids fine, but when i'm home, this old mans bones are good for sleep and not much else. i mean the breeding kink can get me goi-" john grunts when you elbow into his side.

"crude." you huff with an eyeroll.

"but true." he says into his beer as he takes a sip, eyes sparking with mischief.

your friend turns to you. "but doesn't it get lonely?" they asks. "wouldn't you want a little one running around?"

and well sometimes the days may be lonely for you when he's gone...

but that's become impossibly hard to focus on when your phone is being constantly blown up - not by price though. by the 141.

it's never really anything outrages or civil conversation. it's gaz asking which tie he should wear at an event because price said the black one but gaz doesn't really like the black one. then it's johnny sending you a video of him besting his previous time on a training course. though it doesn't stop there. ghost is messaging late nights for him but mid-day for you, asking about how to deal with insomnia. ghost is asking you because he knows you're awake and the others are asleep, he doesn't want to bother them.

you answer every single one, with so much care and attentiveness. you save every picture, every video and boost about their achievements to other people as if they were your own. however, people always assume you're talking about little kids not grown ass men.

yet on days when you're at home or you've come home from work. you're hardly surprised to find one of them had invited themselves into yours and johns home as if it was their own.

sometimes it's gaz crashed out on the couch who's in a desperate need of a shower but definitely needs sleep more.

or the sounds of soap in your fridge, raking around to find something to eat. "lass, ye out of cheese-" he ate the cheese. the whole newly bought block of it.

gaz and soap like to hover around you when they're home. whereas ghost helps price around the house.

but when it's just you and ghost, the oldest boy. it's quiet. there's no forced conversations but probably a few shitty jokes. it's you or him making food and the other doing the dishes. yet ghost opens up and the conversations turn into some of the most randomist, boyish, silly conversations.

when everyone's at home, it can actually be pretty hectic. so you go do the grocery shopping, but you take ghost along cause he's a little like you in regard for a need of quiet time.

oh and can't forget the days you go out by yourself only to come home with a few other things. socks for john - socks for all of them. you bought johnny a new pair of jeans and gaz a couple of shirts. and simon some more sweaters.

christmas, easter, new years - every single holiday is always hosted at yours and price. where everyone comes. farah, alex, laswell and her wife. rudy and alejandro making their way- then of course your boys...

and it's there where you've kinda realized.

you and john do have kids.

just in the form of grown men.

which both you and john don't seem to mind.

you end up shrugging your shoulders as you look at your friend, "honestly i have my hands full when they're all home. so... i'm good." you say with a hum, sipping from your own drink with a small smile as john just chuckles softly.

a/n: realized I never posted this. oh well. the no baby saga continues with john price. drink water be well ya'll xx

[nikki152006]

since we were kids | Bakugou X Reader

oneshot; (goes from angst -> fluff)

And there goes yet another day of Bakugou bullying Midoriya, your childhood friend. Of course Bakugou is your childhood friend too, but you sort of snapped it off with him when he started being the devil to Midoriya.

"You don't need to step in, (Name)-chan." Midoriya tells you, "I'll handle it. Kacchan's not that harsh... "

"What, do you need him to kill you for you to understant?" it hurts you to see Bakugou behave this way- the boy who once gloated to you about having a great quirk and being the strongest was now using it to hurt others.

"I need to buy a new notebook." Midoriya stops walking, "It won't take me long. Why don't you go ahead, I'll catch up later. I'll get a warm up run that way too."

You agree and Midoriya hurries off towards the closest stationary.

"Tch, how do I get into U.A. if I get caught doing this shit." an all too familiar voice sounds approaching towards the exit of an alleyway to the side.

Immediately, a frown settles on your face. 

It's been long since you've had a personal talk with Bakugou- you stopped communicating with him ever since he started being a bitch because it broke your heart to see him that way.

Remembering the old days only makes it worse because all that you've felt for him ever since the beginning doesn't seem to fade off- you're hurt by Bakugou's behaviour, yes, but you can't hate him.

But just for Izukkun's sake-

You've made your mind to confront him today.

After all, him telling Midoriya to jump off the roof was crossing the line.

Without another second of allowing worry or doubt to fill your brain, you hurry into the alleyway to come face to face with the ash-blond boy and his two lackeys following behind.

"Bakugou-san." you've been addressing him formally and crudely since a little while now.

"Whoa whoa," the lackeys behind Bakugou who were once your friends too now narrow their eyes in disgust, "looks like someone left her little frail bunny for a while."

"Tsubasa-san." your lips press, "What a pleasant way to initiate conversation after years. How mannered you were back when you were a kid, I wonder where that little boy went." your eyes roll over to Bakugou last second.

After all, your words are just as genuinely meant for him too.

"Let's talk, Bakugou-san."

He tilts his head, eyes dangerously focused into yours. Bakugou walks all the way up to you and towers you to intimidate you and although there's a part of you which somewhat fears what he's become, you know he wouldn't actually hurt you.

All these years of you stepping in when he bullies Midoriya and he's never once caused a scratch on you, though the same can't be said for Midoriya.

"What do you want, dumbass?" the sheer annoyance in his voice is enough of an indication for the other two boys to walk further away from the both of you and give Bakugou his space.

"I... need to talk to you." you avert your eyes to the side momentarily but then force yourself to look back in his eyes, "It's about Izukkun- " his eyes twitch, you jolt and immediately continue, "please, Bakugou-san."

"Fuck off." he almost turns on his heels to leave.

"Katsukkun... " you know he'll stop if you use the nickname you gave him years ago. For some wicked reason, it makes your eyes glassier- it's been years since you've let this out of your mouth.

Bakugou halts just as you think he would.

"Katsukkun, please. Stop the bullying, it's not his fault he's quirkless." there's a sad expression resting on your face now that you've retorted to using a sweet memory from the past to stop him, "He's human too, he can have dreams."

"You literally can't fucking forget your oh-so poor little bunny, huh?" Bakugou looks more annoyed than he's ever been at you, "Go bang your head against a wall or something, bitch."

Without another glance, he turns and walks off. And without a second delay, you turn to run home, eyes dripping down tears for someone you'd committed to never cry over again.

It hurts- that little boy who would smile like the Sun isn't there anymore and it hurts.

.

________________________________________________________

.

You walk into class all alone the next day- Midoriya has texted you asking you to go ahead because he will be late. Taking the opportunity, the girls call you over to join their morning gossip session.

"Hamiri-chan got her first kiss today." one of the girls excitedly tells you while Hamiri covers her face in embarrassment.

You're surprised she got it only now considering she happens to be the prettiest in the entire school. Compared to her, you look like that oddly half-painted crowd member from a nursery grade student's drawing.

Could it be... 

An odd thought enters your mind.

But Katukkun hasn't ever shown interest in her publicly. There's a chance it could be someone else... right?

But the thought doesn't leave your mind- the prettiest girl in school would obviously end up with the most popular and masculine boy, right?

Something churns in your gut and a weight rests on your chest.

"It was Kurotero-kun from the other class." Hamiri mumbles a moment later, "We've been hanging out at a park near our houses recently and well, it just happened."

A deep exhale of relief involuntarily escapes you.

"That's two girls in our class who have had their first kisses." one of the girls cheers, "Wait- that, considering you haven't yet had one, (L/n)-chan. We never asked you."

"Yeah." Hamiri turns to you, "Midoriya-kun looks like he'd explode if we asked you stuff like that."

You laugh but pause once your eyes fall into blood-red ones. It's only now that you notice that all the boys in class are sitting quietly and eavesdropping on the conversation, even Bakugou.

"(L/n)-chan's too bold and generous to lie." one of your friends butters you, "She's the greatest after all. So, (L/n)-chan," she traces her finger over your sleeve, "please tell me you've got a dramatic first kiss story to tell."

"Why," you snort, "did Hamiri-chan's story not fulfill your thirst for drama?"

"Nope." she shakes her head, "It was too sappy and too romantic." and Hamiri laughs at that, "You tell us something interesting, (L/n)-chan."

"Have you had a kiss yet?" Hamiri looks interested to know too. 

Apparently, the long silence before you reply with a "no, of course not" gives away the truth. Now you're really stressed about it.

"So someone literally wasted their time on you?" the class' female bully Hinaya steps forward, her voice sweet and sing-songed in front of the boys (Bakugou), "That's odd. Was it that or did you pay the guy to do it?"

"Hinaya-chan." your friend doesn't look happy with this.

"Oh," Hinaya's eyes widen, "you probably just kissed your hand thinking it's a boy, no? That's the only thing you can get after all." and some boys snicker.

Normally, you've always got something or the other to come back with but it just so happens that this is a particularly touchy subject- that shining boy you shared that kiss with is no longer there, he's been replaced by someone you don't recognize anymore.

"Y-Yeah... " your eyes get glassy, you try to play it off cool, "It was probably just a mistake.. "

"Oh my," Hinaya explains with her hands covering her mouth, voice turned into an annoying one she thinks is cute, "I'm so sorry, (L/n)-chan, but if you're accepting it to be a mistake, the guy would have probably wanted to die."

Your lips shut tight, eyebrows crinkled and an uncomfortable squeeze disturbing your chest.

"Aren't you going to reply, (L/n)-chan?" your friends don't understand why you haven't shut her up yet. It's too unusual of a behvaiour from you, "A-Are you crying?"

"N-No." but a tear is begging to roll down your eye. You turn back, hand raising to clean it off and just to save you at the right time, the door slams open and Midoriya slides inside yelling an "I'm late!"

He deflates in shame the moment he realizes the teacher isn't here yet and that he's made a fool of himself again.

.

You'd told Midoriya to head home without you because you needed some time alone and he was considerate enough to not question back. You're alone in the class now slowly packing your things to leave for home.

The sound of the classroom door opening makes you turn.

"Hey, (L/n)-chan." Hinaya walks in with her lips pulled inot a straight line. You hum in response.

"When did your first kiss happen?" she comes over and leans against your desk, "How old were you back then?"

You're not in the mood to have an argument or spoil your mood in any other way so you decide to give her what she wants and end this unwanted interaction quickly.

"We were like five?"

"Oh." there's an odd relief in her voice, "Well, just so you know, I'm gonna get a kiss by Katsuki-kun soon, I'll make sure of it. You can go on and enjoy your quirkless frail little bunny."

"Okay." you sling your bang over your shoulders.

She frowns, unhappy with your response, "You know, you should just jump off into a river or something. You're such an embarrassment."

"What will you accomplish by me doing that?" the headache she gives you is now splitting your head. You look away to at least not see that disgusting expression on her face.

"You tell me." she snaps, "Why the fuck was Katsuki-kun looking so smug when we were talking about your first kiss, huh?"

"What is he, your imaginary boyfriend?" you hate how she uses his first name, "And about that, Izukkun and Katsukkun," you put emphasis on the nickname, "both know who the first kiss was with."

"It was probably stupid." she eyes you head to toe, "Who'd like an ugly shithole like you anyways?"

"Neither would someone like a disgusting, smelly little bitch like you." Bakugou's voice from a little away from the both of you makes you jolt. You momentarily glance towards the door not having realized him coming in.

Bakugou has his hand in his pocket and his bag slung over his shoulder. His usual scowl rests on his face.

"What?" Hinaya's act is on again, "You're misjudging me, Katsuki-kun."

The next moment, Bakugou's hand in an inch away from his face, "You say my name one more time and I'll explode that empty head of yours."

You hate bullies and bullying but boy, you're loving this at the moment.

"But Katsu-" she realizes he's not joking around once there's sparks forming at his hands, "Bakugou-kun... I'm more closer to you than she is, right? And all she does the whole day is slut around that stupid Midoriya."

You sigh, "Calling me things like slut doesn't make you better than me, Hinaya-chan. You're the trash you are and I'm not. You know that too."

She frowns deep, "You're so full of yourself, (L/n)-chan, you're always using your smartass in front of Bakugou-kun. He wouldn't be impressed by that at all. You didn't even ask him if he was okay after the sludge incident yesterday."

Bakugou's expressions twitch uncomfortably at the mention of this incident you're unaware of.

"Sludge incident?" you look between the both of them.

"Hah." she folds her hands at her chest, "Search it up. I didn't need to go to some browser to know."

"You're gonna glorify stalking me now, eh?" a nerve in Bakugou's forehead twitches, "Sly little bitch, I'm gonna fucking end you someday."

While Hinaya protests and whines against Bakugou's hostility towards her, you're busy getting horrified on reading the article about the sludge incident.

"Katsukkun- " you begin, eyes widened in nothing but worry, "why didn't you tell me? Why didn't Izukkun tell me either- what the fuck?"

Bakugou doesn't reply, he only grabs your arm and drags you out of the classroom leaving Hinaya behind standing in shock to whatever he's said to her before you started to talk.

He continues to drag you all the way out of school into a small, secluded cafe thereby not allowing a word to leave your lips until the both of you are seated under warm yellow lights in a dark aesthetic interior of a surprisingly serene cafe.

"Don't bother me about it." he says, waving his hand in the air in front of you, "I've had enough fucking talks- that old hag wouldn't even shut up."

"Are you okay?"

"The fuck?" he looks annoyed, "You think something would happen to me because of some shitty villain?"

"No, I mean... it was still a villains attack, right? There's always some sort of minor PTSD or something of the sort." you know it's just that he's not willing to talk about it. The bags under his eyes give enough of how healthy his sleep has been the previous night.

"Stop fucking doubting me."

"I don't." you find yourself shifting closer to him, "I'm just worried... sorry if that's annoying you."

It's been some time since your words have been as soft to him. Honestly, you miss moments like these a lot- moments when it was just the two of you sitting in front of each other back when you were little and kept on talking.

This was the setting when he had once pulled your face closer to his and kissed you when you'd only been five. 

The response he had to this cheeky act was that his parents "did it all the time" and that they say one does it with the person they "love".

Sweetest and cutest confession ever.

It's just too sad that the little boy who said that all to you has turned into the gruff, rude bully sitting in front of you.

Bakugou orders a specific ice cream combination the both of you would eat when you were younger. He doesn't once lift his gaze to look at you after that.

Now, you're left to wonder whether he actually remembered or whether his taste hasn't changed in some nine years.

"About what I had to talk about," he starts suddenly, "about all that happened in class today.. " he is cut off by you mid sentence.

"I know, I know." you heart droops, "I won't ever let anyone ever know that you've had an unfortunate kiss with me. It's alright, you're secret is secured with me, Katsukkun."

He blinks, "What's so fucking unfortunate about it?"

"Huh?"

"What's so fucking unfortunate about it? When I become the number one hero, there's going to be lines of girls wishing to get kisses. Why do you think it's unfortunate, then?"

Your lips open, then close. You stare at him for a moment, "I mean, it's unfortunate for you, right? You were too young to think properly at that time and ended up doing something intimate with someone you didn't actually like."

When Bakugou turns to you, his eyes reflect a certain determination- it's as if what he is thinking at the moment is something he has pondered upon for years and years already.

There isn't even a frown on his pretty face, he only looks concentrated. 

When he opens his mouth, words you'd never expect him to say fall out, "Why? Why did you choose him over me?"

"Who?" but you already know who he is talking about. You swallow, "I chose Izukkun over you?"

He doesn't reply but the look in his eyes gives you all the answers you need.

"I didn't choose him over you," tears form in your eyes, "he's been like a brother to me ever since we were little. It's you, Katsukkun, you're the one who chose to behave like a fucking bitch with him and expect everything to be normal with me after that."

Bakugou looks surprised at that although you feel there couldn't be anything more obvious that this. 

"So you don't like him?"

"He's my friend, of course I do."

"Like, the like like him, dumbass." Bakugou frowns.

"No." you rubs your eyes to wipe off the tears, "I don't like him romantically if that's what you're asking."

"Hah." he doesn't look convinced, "All you do is fuck around with him all day and I'm supposed to feel he isn't anything."

"He's like a brother." you're not liking the way there is a percentage of disbelief in his eyes, "And besides, this all shouldn't really be mattering to you."

"Why not?"

You blink, "Why would it?"

Bakugou's head turns away, his eyebrows raising in what seems to you to be frustration. He pauses for a little, eyes flickering around as though looking for the right words to say, then turns back to you.

"Why wouldn't it?"

Wow, genius. You take all the time of the world just to reply with that?

You choose to keep your thoughts to yourself, however, "Why should it?"

"Why shouldn't it?"

"Why would it?" your tone rises the slightest bit. You don't like this game of questions at all, you don't understand what he's trying to get at.

"I don't know, you tell me." he snaps, "You tell me why it would bother me."

"There's no reason for you to." you frown, "You chose to be the guy who bullies his childhood friends, Katsukkun. There's no reason for you to be bothered if I protect my friend from a bully."

Bakugou inhales and exhales deeply, his eyes rolling over to the side and back leaning into the chair. A few moments of silence pass before he turns back to you.

"Do you really not know or are you just acting?"

"Huh?" 

He shifts and straightens to lean forward, "Okay, listen. I'll say this once... " Bakugou inhales deep, "It... wasn't a mistake."

You blink.

"The kiss." he clears his throat, "I... really liked you back then. We were young and whatever but... it was genuine, okay?"

"How genuine can five year olds kissing be?" the words leave your mouth way too quick, "I mean, we should have been doing something like that at such a young age in the first place."

"We were pretty young." Bakugou's lips tighten, "But that doesn't fucking mean it couldn't have been true."

"Are you sure you liked me back then?" it's bittersweet to know he once had feelings for you.

Bakugou is quiet for a moment. When he opens his mouth again, his eyes are dead focused into yours, "I still do. I have.. e-ever since we were kids."

A spark runs down your body, jaw dropping and eyes widening at him.

"Y-You what?"

He inhales loudly and turns away, "I still like you... I don't like it when you're around that damned Deku the whole day. You're not supposed to be with that loser."

"You like me?" your voice is barely a whisper, "What.. no- wait.. what the- wow. What the fuck, wow."

"You like that?" his eyebrows raise at the floods of red filling into your cheeks, "Are you– what the fuck are you crying for?"

You haven't realized the tears in your eyes until now, "Wh-What... no. I'm not crying.. I'm.." a small cough escapes your lips, "uhm.. so..."

"Mhm?" Bakugou is waiting for the response although he doesn't make it too obvious.

"I... really miss you everyday, Katsukkun." you end up saying, "I miss what you used to be, I can't take the idea of you becoming a bully or a mean person. It hurts."

"What?"

"It hurts so fucking much because I... " you swallow and wipe your tears, "I really like you too. But... I-I can't.."

"Because of him?" his teeth grit, "That Deku–"

"Because you kept on saying you'd be a hero but all you are is a thug, Katsukkun." you snap. A tear rolls down your cheek, "Because it's you whose wrong not him. I can't love a guy who bullies. Feelings for you make me guilty."

Bakugou blinks, "Love?"

"Well what do you expect?" you hysterically laugh it out amidst the tears then swallow, "Other than this one thing, you're great."

"You love me?"

"I do." you nod, hands wiping down your tears, "I really fucking do."

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you while you clean your face and try to calm down. It's too odd for you to be crying this way while accepting your feelings for him especially when the both of you are sitting in a restaurant.

"If... " Bakugou is staring at the ground, "If I ignore him... " he turns to you, " w-would you give me a chance?"

You blink, "A-A chance?"

"To be with you?" he straightens, "To be together?"

Something blooms in your chest, "I... " there's nothing you could ever have wanted more, "Yeah. I'd... love that."

"Great." Bakugou falls back into the chair.

You pause, "But that does mean now bullying him or anyone when I'm around. And I don't want any drama."

"Hah." his eyebrows raise, "You're the one who'd be causing the drama, okay? I don't care about stupid drama."

A small tug makes your lips stretch to a smile, "If you be bitch, I'll dump you Katsukkun."

"Well I'll dump you before that." he snaps.

"Oh, so you want to dump me?" you dramatically clutch your heart and pick your thinks up, "I should be leaving then, no?"

"Oi." he grabs your hand and pulls you down, "Stop it. And there you are proving what I'm saying, dramatic, stupid little girl."

"Says the guy who is serious about the girl he kissed when was five." you giggle.

Bakugou frowns, his ears now visibly getting redder, "Says the girl who's in love with me."

[littlest-bugz]

The Collective You

[one system's brief advice about accepting the idea of the collective you]

One of the best pieces of system advice started from a tumblr post and was elaborated by my DID specialist. I can't find the original tumblr post that started it, so I'm making a little post of my own <3 Share the knowledge. and also hope that someone can link the original post lol.

When I was REALLY going through it™ with my first diagnosis w/ DID, and a lack of integration, all of my alters felt like separate individuals, some of us feeling as distanced as a coworker or a stranger altogether. We were just getting a grasp on internal communication between all of our subsystems, and it was rough. We felt so entirely differentiated that we were our own people trapped in one body. While I don't really care about what language you use, all alters in CDDs are a part of one person [there's only one body and brain]- the collective you.

So obvs, I'm scrolling tumblr like the chronically online doomscroller that I am, and I see this post that goes along the line of not knowing who you are, but knowing you are 'you', regardless of who you are [referring to alters]. And it said something like "we're all me enough to pick up our meds"- something like that. iirc it was a half light hearted, half advice post, but that was really good advice for me. I kind of internalized it after I processed it in therapy. It's actually why I have started to love parts language lately tbh.

After further processing this idea in therapy, Identity Confusion stopped mattering in the grand scheme of things. I focused less on worrying about who I was, and just focused on the fact that I'm me. Just like the post I saw- We are all me. The example of all being me enough to pick up my medications just applied, like, everywhere. Even when it came down to the smallest things- with coping with other symptoms too.

Oh? I don't like coffee right now? I guess I should switch to something else. [differentiated alters]

Oh? I have barely any drawing skills right now? Okay, really sucks but I can work on something else and come back to it later. [skill variance between alters]

Oh? I have to go to a doctor's appointment? I know I'll forget that- Gotta write a list, and put it up on the board so I remember. [day to day amnesia]

You know what happened? My dissociation got better! Not immediately or entirely, obviously, and my memory [re amnesia] still sucks, but that's part of the disorder- plus other disorders that I have. This idea of the collective you is something that I think is really beneficial to all CDD systems, especially during the mid to later stages of recovery.

I, admittedly, credit most of my healing to conversations I have had with my DID specialist. Especially since, without her, I wouldn't have been able to process this idea of the collective me further, but the conversation wouldn't have been started if I hadn't seen that post on tumblr. This was a budding concept with us due to the separation we had. It helped with integration. GRANTED... Not every alter got the memo, obviously, but It's something that I'm still working on. Of course, being me comes with the prerequisite that I am a person with DID, and that I am made up of multiple parts.

Now for the piece of advice I got from my therapist- Though it requires a certain level of knowledge of your own system, such as a list of alters and some identifying info [fav drinks, fav colors, those type of things]. Look at the list of your alters wherever it may be. Just whatever you use for logging your system members. Look for the commonalities between alters. There will be at least some commonalities.

For example; A good 45% of us like bunnies, 45% like cats, and 10% have a liking for other kinds of animals. Using this information, I can pretty much deduce that 1. the collective me loves animals and 2. the collective me likes cats and bunnies especially.

Another example; I looked through our simplyplural, which has a favorite color thing [in ours at least]. By looking through the list, I figured out 1. wow I like literally all colors- my fav color is rainbows and 2. I especially like pink and light blue.

More examples; the list.. THE LIST... I looked through it and saw that a good 90% of us like MONSTER ENERGY DRINKS- of varying flavors, but the common denominator was Ultra Strawberry Dreams, but all of us like [or tolerate] water as a preferred drink. From there I can come to the conclusion that I prefer water over anything else and that I have a problem with monster [being light hearted but I genuinely do].

I hope you get the idea I'm going for. I used this process for nearly every aspect of our collective identity, though some had to genuinely be voted on, such as our LGBTQIA+ labels [offline, we just call ourself queer, but that's.. aside the point LMAO].

Obviously, there are going to be outliers- Having DID comes with the fun [/s] aspect of alters being differentiated from each other in some capacity. Example for the monster energy one- We have a handful of alters that HATE energy drinks- even just fizzy drinks in general. There's one guy who will only drink Black Coffee and water- nothing else. He's the guy who is always hiding away our monsters in the way back of the fridge, but guess what!! He's me!! The part of me that doesn't want me to ruin my health over energy drinks. The part of me that knows I deserve better than my unhealthy habits.

Getting to know the collective you is just like learning about your system! It is not inherently different than figuring out what an alters dislikes or likes are. The idea of The Collective You shouldn't feel scary or anxiety inducing- if it is, you may want to confront those feelings with a therapist if you have access to one. Every CDD system is the collective [or, well, system] of one fragmented individual- That is a studied and objective fact. I wanted to give advice from one recovering system to another.

No, this will not work for everyone, every system is different, but I'm hoping this post finds the right audience in knowing that it's worth a shot to try this!

[elronds-meleth-nin]

A Brush With...Kindness?

This idea came up in a discussion with @bigblissandlove1, so credit to you, my dear friend!! Thank you for being okay with me writing it! ILYSM! Thank you for screaming over both versions of Adar with meeee 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 Also holy shit, this was supposed to be like...2000 words and ended up as almost 12000. 💀

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mentions of violence (not discussed in detail), blood, bloodplay, threats, knives, swords, Adar in the winter, both soft!Adar and stabby!Adar, interspecies sex, Uruk/Human sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), angst, much yearning, nudity, I feel like I'm forgetting something but I have no idea what because holy fuck this is almost 12000 words.

~*~

I knew his face from the moment he and his Uruks flooded into our village. Pillaging and looting where they could, murdering those who fought, the Uruks caused havoc. He strode in with them, looking as serene as the Elf I'd mistaken him for when I was a child.

How lucky I'd been that he'd chosen peace all those years ago. My father was a trader who traveled between Lindon, Eregion, and several villages inhabited by Men. Between the last of those villages and the borders of Eregion, we'd stopped to make camp for the night.

While my father set up our tent and tended to the horse, he asked me to gather some small sticks for the fire. I set off to do so, but in my quest for kindling, I ended up farther away from him than I'd intended with an armload of sticks large enough to make me stagger. Just as I'd begun to turn back, there was a small rustling from behind a bush a few feet away. I turned just in time to see a figure rising to his feet.

Tall, intimidating, covered in dark, aging armor, with scars on his face stood an Ellon. I let out a small, childish sigh of relief. I'd been afraid it might be a bear or an Orc or something fearsome, but it occurred to me that the presence of an Elf must mean that we were close to Eregion.

"You should not wander alone, little one. There are Uruks lurking in this forest," he said, and I noted that he sounded strange. Most Elves had voices that flowed like silvery musical notes, but his was raspy and low, as if he'd screamed for so long that he'd hurt his throat. Maybe he was a soldier, I'd thought. After all, they shout orders all the time.

"I'm not alone," I said lifting my chin as proudly as only a child could. "My father is not far from here."

He did not look convinced, yet still he offered me a smile.

"Perhaps, then, my lady, I could help you with your load?" He asked, and as I'd never been called 'my lady' before, I was not eager to disabuse him of the notion. He relieved me of my bundle of sticks, and together we began to walk back toward the camp my father had set up. After a few moments of comfortable quiet, I posed a question.

"What is an Uruk? I've never heard of one before. The word sounds sort of like 'Orc' if you say it too quickly..." I mused, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Vaguely, I wondered if his scars hurt him, but I did not think it polite to ask. At ten years old, my father had taught me manners enough to know that if a person wanted to talk about something like that, they should be the ones to bring it up.

"An Uruk is the correct name for an Orc," the Ellon said. "The words became...confused long ago. Not many remember their real name."

Oh. Well, that made sense.

"There are two people who know, now," I said smiling up at him, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"That is kind of you, my lady, but you must not use that name around the Elves. They do not take kindly to having their mistakes paraded before them," he said, and that confused me.

"But...you are–"

The crunching steps of heavy boots in the underbrush startled me, but instead of an Uruk appearing from the trees, it was just my father.

"There you are! I told you not to go too far," he said striding up to me and wrapping me in his arms. He placed a kiss atop my head and only then did he turn his gaze upon my companion. Straightening, he glared suspiciously at my new friend. "Who are you? I've never seen Elvish armor quite like that."

His tone was less than kind, and, remembering my manners, I spoke up on my friend's behalf.

"Be nice, papa! He was helping me," I said. My new friend shifted the bundle of sticks to one arm, and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head in a respectful bow.

"I intended her no harm, sir. There are many perils in this part of the forest and I wished to ensure she would not encounter danger," he explained. "Besides, a bundle this large was certainly more than a lady of her status should have to bear."

He offered me an exaggerated, deferential bow that drew a giggle from my lips. After a mere moment's hesitation, my father invited him to our camp to keep warm, since the woods grew quite cold at night. Looking back, it was obvious that he was incredibly patient with my childish questions as the three of us settled in to pass the night. Our evening meal stretched easily between three mouths, even though our new friend said that he did not wish to diminish our supply of food. We could not simply let him starve.

I woke in the middle of the night to low, whispered voices at the treeline. Carefully, I peeked through the flaps of my tent and saw two shadowed figures around the flickers of a small lamp. One stood tall, and the other hunched over.

With my father still slumbering soundly in his bedroll, I made a decision of which he surely would have disapproved. As quietly as I could, I slipped out, sneaking through the shadows of the trees until I could just make out the face of the taller person in the lamplight.

Our Ellon friend? What was he doing out here? Shifting slightly, I caught sight of the second person and–

I nearly tripped over myself to get back to my tent. He'd been speaking in a strange rasping, mean-sounding language to an Orc - or, an Uruk, as he'd called them.

I wasn't frightened of him, despite what I'd seen. Curiosity still reigned in my mind, but I still did not relish the thought of being caught eavesdropping. The next morning, I rose quite early, only to find that our guest was already gone.

"Don't look so distressed, love," my father called from his seat beside the fire. "He left this for you along with his apologies for leaving before you woke. He said his children needed him."

He held out a small piece of dark metal. It had clearly come from his armor. Carved within it was a set of stars, inlaid with some other tarnished metal.

"He said it was the symbol of the Noldorin Kings. He thought you might appreciate it and that it might serve to remind you of the conversation the two of you had," my father explained, though he looked a bit puzzled. "What conversation did he mean, if I may ask?"

As I looked at the small metal piece, it occurred to me that if he had not told my father, then perhaps there was a reason. My father might react poorly to the word 'Uruk' like our friend said the Elves would, simply because he worked so closely with them.

"He said it was dangerous to walk alone," I said, and though it wasn't a lie, it was not the whole truth, either. I'd never had reason to lie to my father before, and I hoped I would never need to again.

That night after we rode into Eregion and settled into our chambers, by candlelight I found the second symbol. Carved onto the back of the item he'd given me, there was what looked like a three-pronged shape. A tool perhaps? A maker's mark?

I wouldn't see that shape again until many years later when Lord Adar took our village. The armor piece which I'd turned into a necklace years before hung around my neck, almost burning beneath the bodice of my dress even as I averted my eyes from our new lord's.

When the morning came, we were all herded into a line leading to the steps of the tavern from which Adar was currently ruling over us. Those who refused to swear loyalty to him were summarily killed by the Uruks guarding us. When my own turn came, I dropped to my knees as all those before me had done.

Strangely, though, even as I looked up at him, I still couldn't find it within me to be afraid of him. Of death? Naturally, I was frightened, but I could not muster the same feeling regarding the Uruk lord. His eyes met mine, and his lips parted as if he recognized me.

An old man grasped my hair roughly, forcing my head down into a more subservient position.

"Do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks?" He asked, but before I could answer either way, his tight grasp on my hair was suddenly released. "M-My lord?"

"She has already sworn for me," Adar rasped above me, and I tried not to look confused as he urged me to my feet. He reached toward me, and to my astonishment, his fingertips brushed against the pendant that had come loose from beneath the top of my dress. The one he'd given me years ago. The back with the three-pronged carving was visible because the chain had twisted. "She already wears my mark. You will not brand her, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the grumpy old man said, but I could look nowhere save into the same green eyes I'd seen all those years before. I couldn't help but think about how beautiful they were.

"I shall see to the rest tomorrow, Waldreg. See that they're fed and have a place to sleep," Adar ordered. Grasping my elbow, the Lord Father of the Uruks led me away from the crowd. Once we were safely inside one of the ruined buildings, he clasped my upper arms and looked into my eyes. "I thought I told you it was dangerous to wander alone, my lady."

His voice was infinitely gentler than it had been before.

"I'm not alone," I whispered, "Not when I have you."

Looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and something far too soft to be on an Uruk Lord's face, he stepped closer and carefully rested his forehead against mine. The scent of smoke and metal, earth and wood oils surrounded me, and I recognized the scent, faint though it had been, from that day in the woods.

He muttered something in the low, guttural language that the Uruks used, and though I had no idea what he'd said, the sound of it sent my heart racing in my chest.

"I thought I'd never see you again," I admitted in a whisper, and he let out a slow, almost sad sigh.

"I had hoped that you would never have need to," Adar murmured in return. When he spoke again, he sounded almost resigned. "If you wish to leave, I can arrange safe passage for you."

I considered the possibility for a moment. My mother and father were living peacefully in Eregion, thanks to the kindness bestowed upon them by Lord Celebrimbor. I could certainly go there, but...was that what I wanted?

"And...if I wanted to stay?"

Pulling his head back just far enough to look into my eyes, Adar seemed as though he both was and was not surprised at my question.

"You would be allowed to do so, of course, but you must understand that this would be a hard life," he stated. "I cannot offer you any luxuries, not like those found in Elven territory. Mordor is new. We have very little. We have not even completed the construction of our own homes yet. Is that truly the life you want? Barely getting by on scraps of food, sleeping in the ruins of an old building?"

"I can bear it," I reassured him, and he seemed to consider my words as his fingertips once again traced the chain of my necklace.

"I will not make you swear your loyalty, my lady, but I would like your word that if at any point you feel as though this life is intolerable or overwhelming, you will tell me," he murmured as his eyes met mine again. "I would not see your light dimmed by such a place as this."

Gently, I laid my hands over his.

"You have my word, my lord," I murmured, and he nodded his head slowly.

"Then, welcome to Mordor, híril vuin."

--

She'd been different since the day they met. Oh, she was likely an average member of her species, but Adar had little personal experience with Humans beyond the occasional interaction. Her openness when she was a child had been endearing, especially since she hadn't thought him frightening or hideous. She'd accepted him as he was without question - even going so far as to protect him from her father's suspicion.

After she'd caught him speaking with Glûg in the middle of the night, ordering his children to leave her and her father be in Black Speech, however, Adar had thought that she'd have told her father what she'd seen...that he would be met with an arrow to the chest upon his return to their camp. Instead, she'd managed to sneak back unnoticed, and he'd taken his leave before she awakened.

Never did he think that one day as a grown woman - a lady - she would be forced to kneel at his feet. Not even with the threat of death looming over her was she afraid of him.

He'd never wanted her fear. When she was a child, he'd savored her curiosity, and now, as an adult, he found that he relished her gentleness and her acceptance. She'd been courteous to all of his children whom she'd encountered, even if such behavior earned scorn from the other Humans in their encampment. She never cowered. She never diminished herself to fit into the dull little boxes that the others of her species so consistently tried to force upon her. She was unique.

And Adar found himself growing ever more intrigued by her.

The winter wind whipped clothing, biting the skin and sinking bone-deep. Like most discomfort, Adar was used to it. He knew every survival method - one did not live for thousands of years without picking up a few helpful practices. His children had followed his example, but it was a bit harder for the Humans among them to find comfort.

Truly, though, the only one he cared about was his lady...his brave, determined lady. He remembered her looking up at him the better part of a year ago when she was forced to the ground before him. Curiosity and recognition was as obvious in her expression as the points on an Elf's ears.

Even after he'd taken their village, she hadn't hated him. She hadn't denied having sworn for him, even though that had been a lie he concocted to keep her safe and unblemished.

Seeing that remnant of his armor hanging from a chain around her neck had inspired more pride and awe in him than he'd felt in an Age. Adar had assumed that even if her father had given it to her, it was so small and insignificant that she wouldn't have bothered to keep track of it. But for her to have turned it into a necklace... The thought still sparked a wave of warmth in the Uruk's heart.

Had their encounter truly been that memorable to her?

As the bitter winter held the camp in its grip, residents and all, Adar walked amongst his children and sworn Human villagers alike, noting those things which were needed most. He turned a corner between rows of tents and half-built houses and paused at the sight of his lady and Glûg discussing the babe in the Uruk's arms. After a few moments, his lady let out a small laugh, and Glûg let out a rasping chuckle before departing with a small bow.

Before he could behave as if he'd been doing anything - anything at all - besides watching them, she turned and Adar's eyes met hers. Approaching without hesitation, she curtsied and greeted him with her customary 'good day, my lord.'

Dropping into his own low bow, Adar offered her his arm.

"Walk with me, if you would, my lady," he murmured, and she looped her arm with his. "How would you characterize the mood amongst your people here?"

They walked a few steps, she considering he answer, and he marveling at how easily they fit together. Having her at his side felt natural, as if that was where she was always meant to be.

"They are under strain, because of the winter temperatures. Perhaps they are a bit more frightened than usual, but nothing too serious," she replied. "They seem to have settled into their new routine along with your children quite well, considering the circumstances."

"And what of your own circumstances? What can I do to ease your burden?" He asked as they reached the door of her shelter.

"I can think of nothing, my lord." Adar did not believe that, but he did not contradict her, choosing instead to accept her invitation inside.

"Allow me at least," he said as he stepped inside, "to check your supplies. Firewood and the like."

"Of course," she murmured, waving him inside. One of the other ladies who shared her living space had already lit a fire in grate, and as soon as they saw Lord Adar walk inside, they quickly found other places to be.

Pretending to take a cursory view around the room, Adar slyly watched his lady move around, tidying up, even though the messes had clearly been created by the others. That he did not like, but that was a problem for a later date.

"Are you certain there is nothing I can do to improve your situation?" He asked, and she flashed him a smile bright enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Nothing, whatsoever. I'm quite comfortable here," she said walking to stand with him beside the fire. He took a long, selfish moment to indulge his desire to study her face. When his desire to reach out and touch her grew so strong that he felt he might snap, he drew and released a deep breath.

"Thank you for your indulgence, my lady. I shall leave you in peace."

Adar gave her a small bow before making his way toward the door.

"Oh, wait! Please, my lord," she called, and he turned to face her. She pulled a length of cloth from a bundle, hurrying over to him.

A familiar sense of dread curled in his abdomen. He'd been betrayed before in moments of weakness - seeing her this evening was certainly a weakness. The cloth would make a suitable garrote for a person of her size to use. Steeling himself as she approached, he realized that, though he wouldn't be surprised, her betrayal would hurt more than any other had.

He met her eyes with his as she stood on the tips of her toes to wrap the cloth around his neck...but the constriction he'd been expecting never came. Instead, she tied it carefully, tucking the ends into his armor so they wouldn't flap around in the wind.

Adar's gauntlet-covered fist relaxed as his defensiveness was replaced with confusion. He was certain that he must look as utterly befuddled as he felt, but the little smile that settled upon her lips as she examined her handiwork stole his breath.

"There. That should keep you a little warmer, at least. We cannot have the Lord of Mordor freezing, now can we?" She asked when her fingers finally fell away from the chestplate of his armor. Adar found speech difficult for a long moment. She cared for his comfort?

How was one supposed to tell someone that they'd expected death's shadow only to find kindness instead? How could he possibly explain to someone like her that at the sight of a simple makeshift scarf, he'd coiled himself as tightly as a warrior preparing to be struck without a shield or sword to defend himself? She was so considerate that she would blame herself for unsettling him, he had no doubt.

No, to say nothing would be better. Perhaps...perhaps later.

Lifting her hands gently in his own, he laid soft kisses upon her knuckles. He dared not look away. Not now. This moment was crucial - whether for just him or for them both, he knew not.

"Thank you, dear lady," he breathed, and as his eyes searched hers, he saw what he normally did in her: warmth. However, this time he saw more. There was warmth, yes, but there was also gentleness, protectiveness, and a sort of satisfaction about him not tearing the scarf from his throat - he would never do such a thing. Not when it was from her.

When he finally stepped outside once more, the wind was unable to sink its frozen teeth into his neck. The fabric, worn and discolored with age, was soft, caressing his scarred skin just as he imagined her fingers would if she ever deigned to lower herself and take him as her lover.

Her generosity made him only that much more determined to find some way to make life easier for her. For nearly a week, he was kept too busy to give the matter any serious consideration, but he did have an idea.

While she was occupied, Adar slipped into her shelter. He wished to find a way to repay her for her kindness, thus his goal was to find one of her unfulfilled needs and provide for her. He was already able to ensure that she received enough food and water, and she deserved more than he could ever give her, but he was willing to try.

After a few moments of searching, he noticed the blanket in her little sleeping area. It was thin, full of holes, and practically falling apart. It was the only one he could see.

His heart clenched in his chest. She must be nearly frozen during the night, yet she had still seen fit to give him her scarf? The growing dampness of tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away. How had she made it through the winter?

At least he could fix this for her.

Picking up the tattered blanket, he strode across the camp to find a replacement. Laying it atop a pile with other bits of cloth that needed to be repurposed, he found a stack of extra blankets. He'd already ensured that all of his children had enough to keep them warm, so one extra would not be missed.

He hastened back to her shelter, closing the door nearly silently behind him, but he quickly realized that he was not alone.

"My lord?" She called from her place beside the cold hearth. She was trying to light a fire with trembling hands. Walking over to her, Adar tucked the blanket beneath his arm and gently coaxed the flint and steel from her cold fingers.

Kneeling briefly, he struck the flint and steel once, twice, and carefully encouraged the flame to grow until a warm glow illuminated the room. When he stood again, he grasped her hands and rubbed them between his palms. He would not be content to leave her until he was certain that she would not freeze in the night.

She looked up at him in wordless wonder, and he knew for certain that his own expression had to be similar.

"Thank you, my lord," she said in barely a whisper, and in reply, he unfolded the blanket he'd brought. Though it was not nearly as soft as someone like her deserved, he knew it would hold the heat much better than her old one. Adar draped it around her shoulders, and, sweet trusting thing that she was, she made no protest about his proximity, nor did she flinch when the backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek.

She looked from him, to the blanket, and back again. Without warning, she sprang forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, but where he usually expected the bite of a dagger after such an impact, he found only comfort. He realized that she...was embracing him.

He looked down at her, only to find his nose now buried in her hair. Her scent! He'd smelled it before, but to have her this close...it was intoxicating. Carefully bracing his hands on her waist, he leaned down a little farther. The tip of his nose brushed against her warm neck, and he could almost smell her pulse racing beneath her skin.

His nose must've been cold, for that small movement was enough to startle her into leaping back. His fëa, dark and fractured as it was, wept at the loss of her, even though she'd only been in contact with him for a moment.

It had been so long since he'd been held like that.

Alarm settled into her expression and she began stammering apologies. Her new blanket slipped from one shoulder, and without a word, Adar stepped toward her and pulled it back into place.

Her voice dropped away as she realized what he was doing. His hands laid lightly upon her shoulders, sliding slowly upward until he was able to cup cup her cheeks carefully between his scarred fingers. Her eyes, now wide with wonder rather than fear, looked up at him.

"You have done nothing which warrants an apology, my lady," Adar murmured giving her small smile. She was so beautiful, so fragile compared to him. He would risk no injury coming to her. Not even the discomfort of the abating cold; slowly, their breaths became less visible as the fire grew in the hearth. "Why did you not tell me about the state of your blanket?"

"I did not wish to trouble you, my lord," she answered sheepishly. "I had already requested a replacement from the head of the Men in our section, but I was told I'd have to speak with Waldreg. Given my previous encounters with him, I...decided that the cold was preferable."

Disquiet twisted within him. Waldreg was distasteful enough without having caused his lady trouble. He was quite certain he'd tear the little worm of a Man limb from limb with a grin on his lips if he dared harm his lady.

Adar would have to speak with him about that.

"Has he mistreated you?" He tried to keep his tone as steady as possible, but a slight edge still managed to creep in.

"He expressed a few less than polite sentiments, but no more. It is not a crime for him to dislike me, my lord," she said, but her attempt to calm his ire only made him angrier on her behalf. Would she not express her anger even at someone as wretched and cruel as Waldreg?

"In future, come directly to me. You need not be afraid. I would be pleased to assist you, my lady," he promised, and his heart stuttered as she nodded her head.

As soon as he left her shelter, he sought Waldreg. The miserable little rat had much to answer for.

--

As the winter winds began to wane, I found myself increasingly glad of Lord Adar's kindness. Not shivering through the night was a pleasant change. I'd thought that after our conversation he seemed rather tense, but thus far I had seen no results.

However, as I returned from harvesting a small bunch of mushrooms for the soup that night, a vicelike grip clamped around my arm, tugging me off balance and dragging me into the small, dark alleyway between two repurposed buildings.

A hand covered my mouth just as a knifepoint pressed cold and unyielding against my racing pulse.

"You vicious little bitch," a familiar voice snarled against my ear. "What lies did you tell him? How did you make him hate me?"

I whimpered in fear but dared not move for fear of the sharp steel at my throat.

"'You will not treat my children or those pledged to me with disrespect,' he said. He's had me shoveling shit in the kennels for weeks, and word around camp is that he only came to me after speaking with you!" Waldreg sounded furious, and, indeed, I could detect the lingering scent of the wargs' leavings clinging to my attacker and his clothing. The more agitated he grew, the more his hands shook. Pain pricked my skin, and a hot red tear trickled down my neck staining the neckline of my dress. "What'd you do? Lift your skirt for him? Whisper in those ragged little ears of his? Give me one good reason I shouldn't gut you here and feed you to the wargs."

I began struggling in earnest, but his anger kept his grip tight. Still his hand covered my mouth, preventing any attempts at speech. A cruel laugh trickled across my ears, and he dragged his knife downwards until it rested directly above my heart.

"I thought not." I tried to cringe away, but that accomplished nothing save fueling the cruel old bastard's amusement as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Say goodnight!"

Instead of the bite of a blade, however, I was abruptly released. A gurgling sound came from behind me, and when I turned, I saw Lord Adar's gauntlet-covered hand lifting Waldreg off the ground by his throat. The cold glare on the Uruk's face revealed not a single mite of mercy for the Man thrashing in his grasp.

"My lady, go inside. I will join you in a moment," Adar called, and after a single shocked blink, I rushed off to do as he'd ordered. My basket lay in the mud, entirely forgotten amongst the chaos. A small crowd of Uruks had gathered around to witness Waldreg's demise and jeer at him, but I couldn't stay.

As terrible as he was, I didn't want to. Trembling, I closed the door after myself and stumbled toward my sleeping space. Quickly wrapping the blanket Adar had given me around my shoulders, I tried to steady my breathing instead of listening to the commotion outside.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when the crowd fell silent and the door finally opened. Terrified that Waldreg had somehow survived and was coming to seek his revenge, I backed into the corner beside the hearth and tried to stay as small as possible.

I had no weapons with which to fight. Hiding would be my only chance to survive, especially if Adar had not been able to stop him.

--

"My lady?" Adar's voice called gently into the space, though he saw no sign of her. He spotted a small movement from the far side of the hearth. Why was she hiding? Her eyes were wide and fearful, even as he approached.

Suddenly her assertion about Waldreg expressing 'a few less than polite sentiments, but no more' felt grossly incorrect. If she was this frightened, he must've threatened her.

Adar hoped that she heard him screaming his apologies before his death.

Or...could it be that he'd finally managed to frighten her with his cruelty? That thought sent a bolt of icy dread through him.

Dropping silently to his knees beside her, he unclipped his gauntlet and dropped it beside him. He wouldn't dare touch her while wearing it after it had touched that scum, not without cleaning it first. He offered her his hand, afterwards, and she accepted it without hesitation.

She needed no coaxing to come to him, shuffling over and resting before him on her knees with her blanket still around her shoulders.

"You need not fear, my lady. He will haunt your steps no more," he murmured, and the relieved little sniffle that escaped her had Adar moving closer and gently brushing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

His skin was rough, but he was careful. He didn't want to hurt her, or for her to fear him. She had every right to after she'd seen him lifting Waldreg off the ground in the midst of his rage. He certainly would not blame her, but he did not want that. If ever she shrank away from him as she'd tried to do from that contemptible worm earlier, he thought his heart may shatter irreparably.

So, with the most soothing tone he could muster - one he'd not used in over an Age - he placed a gentle kiss upon her brow and spoke.

"You are safe with me, híril vuin. None shall raise a hand to you again." Carefully, he pulled the edge of the blanket away just far enough to see the small trail of dried blood from where she'd been cut. Regret was as foul upon his tongue as bile.

He should have found them sooner. Moving away only long enough to fetch a pitcher of water and a cloth, Adar sat close to her upon his return. He began to wipe her skin clean in slow, careful strokes, murmuring quiet, earnest praise for how brave she'd been and for trusting him to help her.

She rested her cheek upon his shoulder as he set the cloth aside, prompting him instinctively to wrap his arms around her and brace his chin atop her head.

"Thank you, my lord," she breathed, and he was acutely aware of his own heart racing in his chest. Could she hear its rhythm even with the chestplate of his armor in the way?

As he began to tell her that he'd done no more than his duty, the door to her shelter opened, revealing the three other ladies who shared the small space with her. Adar grated at the interruption, despite their low curtsies as soon as they caught sight of him holding his lady in his arms.

"Sleep elsewhere tonight," he ordered them, and once they'd departed, he let out a tense breath. Speaking then to his lady, he softened his tone once more. "Tomorrow, I shall have you moved to chambers befitting one of your station."

She blinked beautifully up at him, dampness clinging to her lashes like dewdrops in the early morn.

"'My station,' my lord?"

A slow smile stretched his lips.

"Indeed. If you are to serve at the right hand of the Lord of Mordor, you cannot be seen huddling in the corner of a ruined shack."

Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted in a near-silent gasp.

"A-At your right hand?"

He nodded his head in confirmation.

"Assuming that such a thought appeals to you, of course," he said, but the smile that lit up her face told him all that he needed to know about her enthusiasm.

--

The next morning, I awoke wrapped in Lord Adar's arms and the blanket he'd given me. I should've felt embarrassment, but I could muster no more than a groggy sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

As soon as we managed to peel ourselves from the ground, we gathered my meager possessions, and Adar led me to the tavern. He had ruled from there since day one, but I hadn't been aware until that moment that he'd been living there as well. I supposed that his choice made sense. The upper level was where the owner used to live, having the benefit of a bedroom and a small bathing room complete with a claw-foot tub.

"Unless you object, we shall be sharing the bedroom," he explained as we climbed the creaky wooden staircase. "I'm afraid that there was little more than a musty mattress here to begin with, so I'll have a second bedroll brought up today. If there is anything you require once you have settled in, please do not hesitate to tell me."

"Thank you, my lord," I replied, and as I set myself up on one side of the room directly across from his own sleeping area, one of his children called him away to handle a conflict on the other side of the camp.

Late that night, I walked into the small communal area where Lord Adar sat by the fire, gazing into its depths as if it held the answers to all of his questions. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, I began to move away, but a quiet call of my name in that deliciously raspy voice of his froze me in place.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lady?" He called, and I turned to find his gaze already fixed on me.

"Yes, my lord," I murmured, "thank you for allowing me to stay here."

"The pleasure is mine. Come, warm yourself by the fire," he offered, and I dropped to my knees on the furs beside him. We sat in companionable silence for a while with only the crackling of the fire in the grate reaching our ears. "Something troubles you, does it not?"

I nodded my head and he tilted his head beside me.

"Tell me." Despite his soft tone, the command made me bite my lip.

"I...My lord, given the new position with which you have honored me, I believe it..." I stumbled over the words, eventually taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Would it not be inappropriate for me to continue in this particular role without having sworn my loyalty to you?"

The question came out in a breathless rush, but Adar either did not notice over the hissing of the fire or he was too polite to comment upon it.

"So far as all the others are concerned, you did so before we ever took your village." His eyes skimmed the length of my face as he spoke. "As you will recall, I promised you that I would not force you to do so."

"And you have kept to your word," I began. "I have not felt coerced. I offer my loyalty to you freely."

Adar sat up straighter and drew in a sharp breath.

"You only need do so if you truly wish for us to be bound," he said placing his hand softly atop mine where it rested amongst the furs. His eyes searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was serious.

"I'm certain, my lord," I said, and he, apparently finding what he was looking for, gave a solemn nod of his head.

"Very well. As with your kin, Black Speech is not a language known to you, thus I will not require your vow in that tongue," he murmured, and I couldn't stop the question that fell from my lips.

"Would it be possible to learn at some point?"

Adar smiled, a mix of pride and surprise playing across his features in the glowing, flickering light of the fire.

"I shall teach you personally, híril vuin," he promised, and his expression became more serious. "Have you ever sworn loyalty to another?"

"No, my lord."

"Do you recall the words being spoken during the oaths of fealty given by your people?"

"Yes, my lord." I bowed my head, intending to show my respect in that manner, but warm, gentle fingers grasped my chin and lifted my head back up. Adar's gaze met my own, and unless the firelight was deceiving me, I saw a soft sort of affection swimming in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Before all else, I wish you to swear that you will never bow to me unless I explicitly give you the order to do so," he rasped as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

"I swear it, my lord. I will not bow to you unless you give me the order to do so." Having extracted that promise, he seemed satisfied to allow me to continue as I had been. His fingers fell away from my chin only to grasp my own and lay them atop his chest where beneath his heart lay beating. "I hereby swear my allegiance to you, Adar, Lord-Father of the Uruks, founder of the land of Mordor...and protector of mortal children silly enough to wander the forest alone. This I pledge from until the last breath leaves my body."

Adar listened with something akin to wonder in his eyes, and when I finished, his eyes strayed down to my lips. But...something seemed off.

"Is...something amiss, my lord? I could always use different words, if you prefer...?"

He shook his head quietly.

"There was no fault in your diction."

"Then...what troubles you?" I asked, unconsciously repeating his own words from earlier. He shifted before me, as if he was bothered by what he was about to say. Regretful, perhaps?

"An oath means little on its own," Adar murmured unsheathing a small knife that he'd apparently concealed upon his person. "Only blood can bind."

Whose blood did he mean? Did he want me to use it on myself? Did he wish to use it on me? Or did he want me to use it on us both?

An idea struck me, and I grasped my necklace in the palm of my left hand. Carefully, I set his knife aside, guiding his gauntlet-covered hand over mine. Looking into his eyes, I felt the unyielding metal dig into the soft skin of my hand. Without warning, I squeezed his hand, which in turn forced the sharp, ancient metal deep enough into my skin to draw blood. As comprehension dawned in his eyes, his pupils dilated, and something resembling hunger turned his gaze into a blazing flame boring into me.

His hand released mine long enough for the pendant to fall from my grasp, and when he turned my palm upwards, twin gashes welled with blood. Swallowing heavily, Adar lifted my hand, and as his lips met crimson, his eyes sought mine.

A gasp tumbled from my throat as his tongue lapped slowly at my skin, just barely grazing the inner edges of the two weeping cuts. It stung, of course, but the pain combined with such a ravenous stare from the Uruk lord sent a wave of heat rushing between my legs.

A breathy, wanton whimper escaped me, and in a blink, I found myself on my back atop the furs with my lord straddling my hips. He pressed my bleeding palm against his cheek, and, bracing his free hand on the floor beside my head, Adar placed a line of fiery kisses along the column of my throat from hollow to chin with his blood-drenched lips.

I'd wanted him to look at me like this, to touch me and desire me like this, from the moment we were reunited, and now that he was, it was as though my very soul had been lit aflame. I wanted everything he wished to give me, and then some.

Before his mouth had the chance to claim mine, however, there was a rough knock on the door. Adar pulled back a few inches, and we stared into each other's eyes, panting together as reality sank back in and a second knock sounded.

"I think you ought to retire for the night, my lady," he rasped laying a final kiss upon my palm before getting to his feet. My blood was a dark red streak upon his face, but he seemed not to care. He called for whoever was at the door to wait a moment, taking the time to help me to my feet and bidding me goodnight before seeing to our caller. His lips were still the deep red shade of the life flowing through my mortal veins.

I hurried up the stairs to our shared sleeping space before I could see who'd interrupted us. With a quick glance into the cracked fragment of a mirror stowed in the corner of the room, I saw a sloppy, red trail where Adar's lips had been.

I didn't bother to clean it off before I crawled into my bedroll, choosing instead to slip my fingers beneath my smallclothes as I recalled the feeling of him doing as he wished with me. With a broken, muffled whine of his name against my blanket, I found completion, but a part of me wondered how much more satisfying it would have been had his fingers been in place of mine.

--

The next fortnight felt as though it was a specialized form of torture. Adar seemed to be called away by a never-ending series of problems that required solutions. Often his day began earlier than I awoke and ended long after I'd retired to bed. Ensuring I'd completed every task he'd left for me was the least I could do considering how busy his own position kept him.

Occasionally, we did still manage to sneak a meal or a short conversation with one another, but we had yet to discuss what had happened the night I pledged myself to him. Almost every night, the memory of the hunger in his eyes drove me to desperation, haunting my dreams and forcing me to muffle my cries as I tended to my own burning desire.

One of the few times he returned before I fell asleep, I'd just whimpered his name into my pillow. As he ascended the staircase, I heard his footsteps, and I tried to muffle my shame as it was too late to stop entirely. The fear of discovery lanced through me as I heard he approached the door. I tried to steady my breathing, and hoped that in the low lighting, he would not notice how disheveled I looked.

Either I was successful, or he was in a sadistic mood, because he sidled over to his own bedroll and began stripping down. I'd seen him without the armor before, but when he shucked off his upper garments, the sight of his scarred, toned torso was enough to make me bite my tongue to stifle a gasp.

The outline of his masculinity in his trousers as he laid his clothing in a neat pile sent a fresh wave of wetness soaking my inner thighs. Oh, how was I meant to sleep after seeing...that?

Adar laid down, and just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, his voice broke through the silence.

"Sweet dreams, my lady." I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

Oh. My cheeks burned at the realization that he'd likely heard me.

"...Good night, my lord," I murmured, hating how shaky I sounded.

--

Spring changed very few things in Mordor, save the temperatures, yet with each passing day, Adar's lady seemed to smile just a little wider.

He wanted to give her more reasons to do so, however. It was not enough that they had been living in close quarters since that night in her shelter. It was not enough that he'd made her smile and laugh before. Adar needed to do it again.

But more than that, he needed to hear those things which it was not at all civilized to consider. It was not enough that he had tasted her blood and her skin and her racing pulse. He'd heard her make beautiful, pleasure-filled sounds when she thought he was out of earshot or asleep. But it was never enough. He needed to hear her moan his name, to see her arch her back beneath him in the throes of ecstasy. He needed her.

Teasing her had been as much a torture for him as it likely was for her. Adar had become addicted to pain in one form or another over the millennia, and the mental strain of denying himself the pleasure of her touch was not unfamiliar, but it was forcing him to a breaking point, nonetheless. He knew that he would likely snap as he had when she'd sworn him her loyalty. That rush had been like a dam releasing an unstoppable flood, his hunger turning him into a ravenous beast.

She hadn't minded, as he thought she might. She'd enjoyed it. The sight of her lying beneath him panting as her blood practically dripped from his lips made him achingly hard each time he dwelled upon the memory for too long.

Still, she deserved better. Better than him, better than a moment of animalistic need. He found himself wondering about how best to give her all of himself.

Adar supposed that was how he'd ended up in the doorway of the small bathing room. The claw-footed tub was filled with steaming water as he'd ordered, and relaxing within it was his lady. She'd deserved a moment of peace after having completed every single task he'd given her with such dedication. It was a small reward, hardly as much as she deserved, but at the moment, it was all he could give.

He tried not to allow his gaze to drop beneath the water's surface, but his restraint was weak after the last two weeks of self-imposed denial. Truly, he intended merely to check that she was well, but the temptation of seeing her soft skin dripping with hot water was too great. The Lord of Mordor lingered in the doorway just long enough to feel his lower garments grow tight, and for her eyes to meet his as his lust clawed at his restraint.

As a moth drawn to a flame, he found himself walking slowly into the room, summoned by her curious gaze. The hot water reached her collarbones, and Adar felt the urge rising within him to claim her.

He knelt beside the tub, his face mere inches from her own, and removed his armor, gauntlet and all. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and dipped a washcloth into the hot water. The back of his hand brushed against the swell of her breast, and they both let out quiet gasps.

Still, Adar refused to look down into the depths of the sage blossom oil scented water. Wringing the washcloth out until it was just wet enough him to clean his face, he began to do so, only for his lady to take it from his hands. With her breasts pressed up against the side of the tub, her soft, gentle fingers held his head in place as she gently wiped away the grime.

Without a word, he turned his head and kissed her palm where twin scars were already forming. Adar would've preferred that she spill his own blood - that was what he'd originally intended - but since she'd chosen that pain, the least he could do was show the proper amount of reverence for her actions.

"Is there anything you need, Adar?" Her voice was shaky and breathless as it so often was when he caught her off-guard.

"No. This night is for you. Relax as long as you wish," he murmured, but as he stood to leave her in peace, he noted that she tried valiantly to hide her disappointment. Without turning back - if he did, he might do something impulsive - he called over his shoulder, "Patience, my lady, and you shall have all that you desire."

His hardness did not abate until long after they'd settled into their bedrolls and her breathing had evened out in the serenity of sleep.

Adar could not wait much longer. Her sweetness was as a siren's call to him.

Thus, his plan began to form. Once the spring was fully upon them, he approached her as he often did for conversation.

"My lady, I wonder if you might spare me a moment of your time?" He asked, and she smiled joyfully up at him - truly, that should not have made his heart stutter the way it did.

"Of course, my lord. You may have as much of my time as you desire," she replied, and oh, she had no idea what she was offering!

"Do you enjoy riding horses?"

She tilted her head curiously, but the way her smile widened had him mentally congratulating himself for selecting this particular tactic.

"I do, though, it has been quite some time since I've had the opportunity."

"Come," he urged offering her his hand. She didn't hesitate to take it. The feeling of her touch would be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. Drawing her close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I intend to steal you away."

Her lips parted in surprise, and just as he was about to apologize for his forthrightness, she squeezed his fingers in hers.

"I could not hope to be stolen by any more worthy." His breath hitched in his chest, and he tamped down the temptation to skip his plan entirely and take her atop his own sleeping furs. No. He'd been alive since before the waking of the world. He could wait a little longer.

"Then, maybe I should play the part...?" Adar suggested with a mischievous smirk. Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her by the waist, tossed her over his shoulder - an action which tugged a surprised shriek from her lips - and carried her to his horse that way.

"My lord!"

"My lady!" He called back in answer as he felt her gentle, mortal hands lay across the back of his armor. Surely she knew he would never drop her?

Soon, he placed her atop his mount, and she giggled breathlessly at the situation. Her mussed hair and bright eyes lit a spark within his heart, and lower, not that he would admit it to any save her. Swinging up easily, he settled in behind her, grasping the horse's reins in one hand and bracing the other over the softness of her diaphragm. As close as they were, he was in the perfect position to whisper in her ear.

"Fear not, my lady," he breathed, "you shan't fall."

One of her hands covered his, and he urged their horse forward. For nearly two hours they rode, crossing from ashen, desolate terrain into the gentle rolling grasses of the land beyond Mordor's fiery shadow.

The rhythmic roll of her hips against his became almost hypnotic. The Lord of Mordor he might be, but his restraint was still utterly devastated by her. They dismounted when they reached a meadow peppered with small saplings.

Tying their horse's reins to a sturdy one, Adar offered his lady his hand. The sun was just beginning to glow a gentle orange. It would set soon, and he greatly desired to see his lady bathed in starlight.

"It is no secret that I favor you, my lady," Adar began as they wandered leisurely amongst the blooming flowers, and that was the closest he'd ever come to an admission...to a confession of that nature. "Even the Uruks farthest from the center of our camp know that I...that you are under my protection."

"Indeed. I would say that is true," she agreed, clearly not certain at what point he was driving with his rambling. "I am honored beyond words to have your favor and protection, my lord–"

"Adar. Here - anywhere away from prying eyes and unwelcome ears - you may call me Adar," he corrected gently, and her fingers squeezed his in gratitude. "I brought you here today, because I wish to ask for your counsel."

"You shall always have it, Adar," she assured, "though, I am not certain what advice I could provide that would be wiser than your own. I have very little experience with war and strategy."

He stopped walking and turned to face her - a mistake, because she was almost ethereally encompassed by the warmth of the sunset. He swallowed heavily to recover his voice.

"It is not war about which I require your thoughts," he began, bringing her hand to his ruined lips. "I have lived in shadow for so long, yet recently I have found myself prey to a feeling which I have not experienced in many Ages."

She tilted her head curiously.

"What might that be?"

Adar reached gently toward her with his free hand, cupping her cheek.

"Love," he rasped, looking into her eyes, hoping she would catch the meaning within his words. Admitting that a horrid creature like him had fallen head over heels for a beautiful being like her was tantamount to sacrilege. Yet...in several instances, he believed that he'd seen his own affection reflected in her eyes. Indeed, the moans he'd heard from her would seem to indicate that she desired him.

But it was too much to hope that she could love him. He was certain she desired him, but...love? Could a Human woman truly love an Uruk when the rest of her kind looked down on them in scorn and disgust? Had he been a fool to bring her here?

She stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes–

Her expression stole his breath. He had not hung the stars in the sky, nor had he wrought treasures like the Silmarils. He had not created even a single thing of beauty. All he'd done was try to give his children a home.

And yet...she looked at him as though he was more worthy of praise than the most virtuous of kings, the most honorable of knights, and the most devoted of husbands. Could it be possible?

Could she...?

"I am afraid that I have little experience with love, Adar, but I will help if I can." As afraid as he might be of losing her, he must speak now or lose her forever.

"In your opinion, who is worthy of love?" He asked, and she let out a small huff of laughter, as if the question was a foolish one. "Have I said something amusing?"

"A bit," she admitted, but she was quick to place her free hand over his heart, "but not in the way you might think. Everyone is worthy of love, even - and, perhaps, most especially - the Lord-Father of the Uruks."

Was he truly so transparent that she could see his fears so easily? Or had she managed to worm her way so far into his heart without his knowledge that it was already a bosom companion to her own?

"...And you have it." His eyes snapped back up to hers - when had he looked away? His hunger and adoration for her rose up in a great wave, consuming him from the inside as he wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and drew her into a passionate kiss.

He'd dreamed of having her pressed up against him, of drinking her pleasure from her lips.

She moaned into Adar's mouth, and he was struck by the realization that she was so much better than any phantom images that his imagination could conjure. He dragged his lips and teeth to the corner of her jaw, and spoke in a hoarse, rasping whisper.

"I need you as I need air, meleth-nin." He grasped her waist as her arms drew him ever closer. "You steal my breath, yet without you I cannot breathe. Have mercy....Have mercy upon your most devoted servant..."

As the orange sky bled pink, his lips trailed down her neck, savoring those places which had driven him to the edge of madness when he sampled her before the fire. His name escaped her lips on the back of a desperate whine.

"What do you need? Tell me," Adar breathed, and she tilted her head to offer him more of her neck.

"Take me, touch me, please! I'll be good, so good, only for you," she begged, and the sound went straight to the stiffening length between his legs. He would love nothing more than to have her beg for him all night, but this time she would have no need to. Tonight, the beginning of their time as one, he would fulfill her every desire with a minimum of teasing. He'd done too much of that of late.

Her fingers dove into his hair, and a moan poured from his throat, rumbling against her pretty skin.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to be a good girl for me?" She released a varied stream of yeses and pleas for him to do as he wished with her, and he acceded to her request with a kiss, quelling any doubt she may have had that he would do this for her. He would do anything for her, even unto the destruction of Middle Earth. "Do you wish to be mine?"

"Yes!" Her answer was akin to a desperate sob, and he wasted no time, immediately indulging her.

Tugging his cloak from his armor, Adar spread it over the grass. He would not have her dress covered in stains, nor grass blades stuck to her skin. The cloth created a sharp contrast - an onyx patch amidst a sea of pinks, purples, reds, and yellows - the dark to the meadow's light, just as she was the light to his darkness. She completed him, enthralled him, drove him mad, and tonight he would show her just how much.

She went for the ties fastening her dress, but he caught her hands in his and took over. She was a gift more precious than anything which the Valar could bestow upon their servants, and he would unwrap her accordingly.

As the laces binding the back of her dress fell away one at a time, Adar explored his lover's mouth with all the tenderness and gentleness that his cruel, twisted body could muster. He hadn't even realized that her tricky little fingers had begun to fiddle with his armor until his breastplate fell away.

In a flurry of discarded garments, they were each revealed to the other in all their beauty and all their flaws. Their shared vulnerability stilled their hands for an anxious moment, but only for a moment.

Adar's breath hitched in his chest when the soft lips he'd tasted mere seconds before connected with the scarred flesh over his heart. He'd expected pity, fear, regret - not reverence. Instead, as she looked up at him, he saw nothing but sincerity in her expression.

"You are gorgeous," she said, as though she could not tell that he had but one part of his body which was untouched by scars.

...As though she meant it. He realized with a sharp intake of breath that she did. She grasped his hands and they sank onto his cloak together, she on her back and he kneeling between her legs. His interest jutted toward her, but he could not find it within himself to be ashamed, not when he was with her. Not when a piece of his armor hung on a chain around her neck, resting comfortably above her breast.

"There is no beauty finer in this world than yours."

Spread nude before him over his cloak, Adar's lady looked up at him with an adoration he had not believed possible. Not when directed at an Uruk such as he. His lips met hers once more, but this time, he forced himself to be much more controlled. He wanted her, yes, but he also wanted her to know that she had his love.

Kissing his way steadily down her body, the Lord-Father of the Uruks had no doubt that he must look as hungry for her as he felt. Practically feral with pent-up desire, he needed her writhing on his tongue. His hands trembled with the effort it took to slow his movements, to take his time.

Abruptly, as his eyes met hers from between her legs, he realized that she very much had the capacity to destroy him. With a single declaration of hatred or a look of disgust, she could easily take his stone heart and pulverize it into powder.

How easily could she shred beyond repair what little remained of his soul!

Not even Morgoth had been able to do that. This mortal woman, this sweet, brave lady had no idea of the power that she possessed. The smart thing to do - the strategically wise path - would have been to kill her then and there while she lay vulnerable and trusting before him, begging for one more touch, one more kiss, one more moan, one more scrap of his attention.

Instead, he picked up his discarded gauntlet and slid her much smaller hand inside it. The clasps were quick work, and though she looked confused at first, once he lifted her thighs over his shoulders and guided her hand to his hair, understanding dawned in her eyes. She understood. He wanted her to feel powerful. She was his equal and she deserved to know it.

Even with sharp, unyielding metal covering her fingertips, they scraped so gently over his scalp as lost himself in the flood between her thighs. She moaned and whimpered, squirming in his hold, but through it all, she never once hurt him.

Adar knew that she wouldn't. Even as she cried out his name for all the world to hear, drenching his tongue and chin, her grip in his hair was careful. Her thighs tensed in his grasp, squeezing his head in an intoxicating vice. Groaning and snarling against her sensitive folds, he couldn't bring himself to pull away until she was shaking in the midst of over-sensitivity.

"Adar, please," she breathed as he moved up her body. Hunger raged and burned in his eyes - he could deny himself no longer. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them easily above her head as he claimed her lips. His tongue delved into the softness of her mouth, taking with it the lingering taste of her.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him close enough for his tip to catch on her entrance. With synchronized groans, he pressed inside of her, joining their bodies together as one.

Profane language not meant for the ears of such a creature as her spilled from his throat in a guttural stream of Black Speech. Dipping his head, Adar moaned against her breast and surged forward, drawing a sinful mewl from deep within her throat.

"You have me. You take me so well," he praised in a raspy whisper, nibbling at her earlobe as he thrust into her slowly. Gradually, she stripped him of his sense and control, tugging from within him a steady flow of praise and filth in Elvish and Black Speech - promises to treasure her for the rest of his days, to protect her, and to draw from her so many screams each night that all of Mordor would be unable to deny his claim over her.

When she managed to roll her hips beneath him to meet his thrusts, begging him to use her, to ruin her, what could he do but grant his lady's wish?

In a quick movement, he'd repositioned them both so that she was astride his hips. Pulling her arms behind her back and tugging slightly so that her chest was pushed toward him, Adar looked into her eyes.

"If you wish your lord to use you, then move those hips," he ordered. Leaning in, he brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and whispered a bit more gently to her. "Ride me, meleth. Show me that I have you."

She obeyed him instantly, finding a steady rhythm which, aided by his fingers toying with her clit, would have her tipping over the edge in mere moments. Indeed, her hips soon stuttered, and he gripped the back of her neck, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Do not look away. Look at the pleasure I can give you," he commanded, and as she nodded frantically, beginning to fall apart, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Yes, look upon the Uruk who loves you."

At that she sobbed and collided firmly with her orgasm. She fluttered around his length, calling his name in lovelorn stutters and gasps.

Who needed Valinor when she was its very embodiment?

He released her wrists, and she threw her arms around his neck, claiming his lips with her own. His hands slid down her back, landing squarely on her hips. Holding her steady, Adar thrust up into her, making her yelp in surprise. He needed very little now; he was close.

"Where do you wish me?" Adar breathed against her lips, and he could feel the heat burning her cheeks.

"Inside," she answered hiding her face against his neck, and he moaned against her shoulder. Her name tore from him in an almost pained whine as he spilled within her. He clutched her to him so tightly that he'd undoubtedly left bruises in his wake, but he would kiss them all in apology when they'd caught their breath.

Neither seemed eager to release the other, so in their embraced they remained exploring one another with gentle fingers and loving lips until long after the moon had risen and stars had winked their way into the sky. When he dared to lean back far enough to look into her eyes, Adar was met with love bathed in glittering starlight.

He wondered if he'd hurt her, but the smile stretching her lips said otherwise. The armor piece that she'd made into a necklace still rested upon the smooth expanse of her chest - a perfect accompaniment to his gauntlet upon her arm.

The ride back to camp seemed too short by far, but their bedrolls - which would soon be joined into one - called out to them so sweetly. Adar was used to the bows and deference he received from his children, but he knew in his heart that his decision had been right when upon their return he heard the Uruks repeating a particular phrase as they passed.

His lover had heard part of it before, but now there were a few more words to it.

"What is that they keep saying?" She whispered the question to him, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling proudly. "It sounds familiar, but different."

"'Tis Black Speech. They are saying 'make way for the Lord and Lady of Mordor,'" he answered kissing her temple as they approached their home.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

[shitsndgiggs]

Can you make a fic of kenan forgetting about his girlfriend birthday while he hangs out with his friends and one of the friends remind him that and he directly leaves and goes to reader?

Also I missed your fics sm 😭🤍

MAKING IT UP TO YOU - KENAN YILDIZ

Kenan forgetting your birthday

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The day had started like any other—Kenan left early for training, followed by plans to hang out with his friends.

I didn’t expect anything grand or flashy for my birthday, but a small text, a “Happy Birthday, babe,” would’ve been nice. Instead, I spent the morning checking my phone, only to be met with silence.

By afternoon, I’d resigned myself to the fact that Kenan had forgotten. A lump formed in my throat, but I brushed it aside, convincing myself not to let it get to me.

He’s busy, I told myself. Maybe he’d planned a surprise for later. But as the hours ticked by, any hopes of a surprise dwindled.

Meanwhile, Kenan was hanging out with his friends, completely oblivious to the date. They were sitting at a café, laughing and chatting, when one of his friends, casually asked, "Hey, aren’t you doing anything for Y/N’s birthday today?"

Kenan blinked, the words slowly sinking in like a punch to the gut. His face dropped, eyes wide with realization. “Her… birthday?” he muttered, panic instantly rising in his chest.

His friend raised an eyebrow, sipping his drink. “You didn’t forget, did you?”

Kenan shot up from his seat, the chair screeching against the floor. "Oh, shit. I completely forgot!" He grabbed his jacket, fumbling with his phone.

“How could I forget?” His voice was frantic now, tinged with guilt as he gathered his things in a hurry. “I gotta go—like, right now.”

He bolted out the door, his heart pounding. How had he managed to forget something so important? The guilt gnawed at him as he quickly dialed a florist, hoping to salvage what was left of the day. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy—he’d messed up, big time.

Back at the apartment, I sat on the couch, scrolling through my phone with a heavy heart. Messages from friends and family had poured in all day, wishing me a happy birthday.

But the one message I wanted more than anything? Still nothing. I sighed, tossing my phone aside and pulling a blanket around me.

Just then, the door flew open with a loud bang, and Kenan stumbled in, out of breath, holding a large bouquet of flowers that looked like they were grabbed in a rush. He was panting, his hair messy from running.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, voice high-pitched with desperation.

I looked up from the couch, raising an eyebrow. “Kenan…”

“Babe, I—oh God, I’m so sorry. I messed up. I’m an idiot,” he blurted out, stumbling over his words as he rushed toward me, thrusting the flowers into my hands. “Happy birthday!”

I stared at him, trying to suppress the hurt. “You forgot,” I said softly, feeling the sting of those words as I said them aloud.

His face fell even more, if that was possible. “I know. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know how I could’ve been so stupid. I was with the guys and—" He stopped himself, taking a deep breath, and crouched down in front of me, his hands gently grabbing mine. “I don’t have any excuses. I should’ve remembered.”

I let out a small sigh, looking at the bouquet in my lap. “You didn’t even text me, Kenan. I waited all day.”

The guilt on his face deepened. “I know, and I’m the worst for it. I swear, I’ll spend the rest of the day making it up to you. The rest of the year, even,” he added, a desperate edge to his voice. “Just don’t be mad. Please.”

I couldn’t help it—his panicked, puppy-like expression broke through my walls just a little. But I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “The rest of the year?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That’s a long time.”

He nodded vigorously. “Yes! The rest of the year, and the next one too. I’ll start right now,” he said, grabbing his wallet from his pocket and handing me his card. “Here, take this. Go buy whatever you want.”

I blinked at him. “You’re bribing me now?”

He looked even more panicked, scrambling to explain. “No, no, it’s not like that! I just… I just want you to be happy. Please, tell me how to fix this.”

I looked at his face, the guilt and sincerity so clear in his eyes, and despite the frustration, I felt my heart soften. “You really feel bad, huh?”

“More than you know,” he said quietly, his eyes pleading. “I love you, and I’m so sorry I made you feel like I forgot. You mean everything to me.”

I sighed, setting the flowers aside and tugging him closer by his jacket. “Fine. But this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

He grinned, relief flooding his face. “Fair enough.”

I smiled a little, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re panicking.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his lap, burying his face in my neck. “You’re not allowed to leave me alone with the guys ever again. Apparently, I lose my brain.”

“Apparently,” I teased, running my fingers through his hair.

“Let me take you out, okay? Anywhere you want to go. I’ll give you the birthday you deserve,” he mumbled against my skin, his voice still tinged with guilt.

I pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. “You better,” I said softly. “And for the record… I love you too.”

His face lit up with a relieved smile, and he pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “I swear, I’ll make this the best night ever.”

“Kenan,” I smirked, looking at the mess he had made in his rush to get here. “It better be, or I’m using that card to buy a lot of shoes.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Deal.”

[itneverendshere]

Bartender reader :) reader and Rafe get in a fight and it’s a big one (while they are living together) and reader needs some space and decides to sleep on the couch/guest bedroom but Rafe completely forgets about the fight once he realizes what she’s doing and puts his foot down “you can be mad but you’re still sleeping in this bed” kinda deal?

i feel like their fights never last bc they can't be away from each other that long and bc they're just too disgustingly in love🙂‍↔️ thank you for the request!🤎

i would never do you wrong- r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe) wanrnings: a little angst at first, but happy ending obviously.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands gripping your phone a little too tight. The conversation you had been having for the past hour felt like running headfirst into a brick wall—no, arguing with a brick wall.

“I don’t see why this is such a big deal,” Rafe groaned, like a toddler, running a hand through his messy hair. “You’ve been working nonstop. You deserve a break.”

“A break?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Baby, I just got promoted. I can’t take time off like that.”

“You’re acting like this job will disappear if you take a week off. I’ve already planned the trip, I’ve already talked to Ward. You don’t even have to worry about money—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut him off, standing now, your body vibrating with frustration. “You don’t get it! This promotion means everything to me. I worked my ass off for it. And now you’re telling me to throw that away for a vacation?

“I’m not telling you to throw anything away, baby. God, you make it sound like I’m asking you to quit.” Rafe crossed his arms, his brow furrowed, and looked at you like you were the unreasonable one, like you'd just insulted him. “It’s just one week. We can afford to relax.”

“Yeah and what about the wedding? If we’re gonna pay for it, we gotta save up.”

He let out an incredulous laugh, his head shaking like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You do remember I’m rich, right?”

You blinked, stunned. “Seriously? That’s your solution? Just throw money at it?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “That’s not what I meant. I can pay for the wedding,” he interrupted, stopping in his tracks. “You’re forgetting I have more than enough money to take care of both of us.”

You closed your eyes for a second, breathing deeply. “I don’t want you to pay for it all.” You were pacing now, “It sounds like you think we can just forget about budgeting and responsibilities because you’ve got a trust fund.”

Rafe threw his hands up, exasperated. “I’m just saying we can afford to take some time for ourselves. You don’t need to stress over every little thing.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning sharply to face him. “I’m not ‘stressing over every little thing,’ Rafe. I’m being realistic. We have a wedding to plan. We’ve got bills. I’ve got my career to think about. And no, I don’t want your dad’s money involved in any of that.”

“We have an entire year to save up,” He stared at you, a steely glint in his eyes. “So what? You’re just gonna run yourself into the ground? Burn out completely?” 

Your jaw clenched as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’m doing what I need to do. I’ve always done that.”

“And I’ve always been here to help you. But it’s like you don’t even want it.”

“That’s not what this is about,” you argued, stepping closer to him now. “I don’t want to be dependent on that money. I don’t want us to start our marriage with me feeling like I’m just along for the ride.”

Rafe’s face hardened, his lips pressing into a thin, flat line. “So what? You think I’m trying to make you feel small? Like you can’t handle your shit?”

“No. I just want to build something with you. With you, Rafe, not because of Ward’s money.”

He looked away as he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, the muscle moving under his skin as he swallowed whatever hot-headed thing you knew he felt like saying. Then, with a frustrated exhale, he said, “It’s not like I wanted to rely on him either. But I’m trying to make things easier for us.”

“And I appreciate that, I do.” You sighed, taking a breath. “But this promotion... it’s my chance to prove myself. I want to know that I earned everything we have. Not that it came from someone else’s checkbook.”

Rafe’s eyes moved to yours, and you could see the tension still there. He slowly let out a long breath. The air hissed softly between his teeth as his chest fell, shoulders sagging “You’re so fucking stubborn.”

“I learned from the best,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

He let out a bitter chuckle, it didn’t hold any joy. “I’m not trying to control everything. I just want to make sure we have time for us before everything else gets in the way.”

You nodded, “I know. But you can’t just expect me to drop everything and go on vacation because you’ve already decided it.”

“I thought you’d want to spend time with me,” he argued, “I’m trying to make time for us, and you’re treating it like it’s a problem.”

You sighed for what it felt like the millionth time that night, rubbing your temples. “It’s not that, baby. I want to be with you. You know that. But I can’t ignore everything else that’s going on.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to find the right thing to say. Finally, he muttered, “Fine. If you don’t want to take the time off, then don’t.”

You blinked at him, taken aback. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re making it seem like I’m asking for something ridiculous.”

You scoffed, frustration taking over again.

“Because to me, it is ridiculous! You don’t get it. You don’t have to think about whether you can afford to take time off, but I do. You’ve never had to think about that stuff.”

His face tightened, jaw clenching as he stared at you like he was trying to stay calm. “And that’s why I’m telling you, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ve got us covered. You’re acting like I’m trying to sabotage your career.”

“You’re not listening to me! This promotion isn’t just a paycheck, it’s everything I’ve worked for. I’ve spent years proving I’m good enough, and now you’re asking me to step back like it’s no big deal.”

Rafe crossed his arms, his posture stiff, defensive. “I’m asking for one week. One. Fucking. Week. You act like the world’s gonna end if you take some time for yourself.”

“Because for me, it doesn’t stop! You don’t understand what it’s like—”

He cut you off again, you hated when he did it. “Don’t. Don’t stand there and tell me I don’t understand. You think I don’t get what it’s like to have shit on the line? I’ve been under pressure my whole life.”

You flinched at his words, your eyes narrowing. “This is different. I’ve always had to make sure I could take care of myself.”

His laugh was bitter, almost sarcastic. “Is that what you think this is? You’re my fiancé.”

You frowned, feeling the hurt in his words, but you couldn’t let it go. “I just don’t want to feel like I’m in your shadow, like I’m always gonna be ‘Rafe’s wife’ instead of my own person.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. “It’s not like that. You know it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Because every time we talk about this, you make it sound like money is the solution to everything. Like we can just throw cash at our problems and they’ll disappear.”

He stopped pacing, turning to face you, his expression darkening. “Because it fucking helps, okay?”

You pinched your eyes closed, “I’m just trying to make sure I don’t lose myself in all of this.”

He let out a harsh breath, his shoulders tense. “Lose yourself? You think I’m trying to take that from you?”

“No,” you whispered, wiping at your eyes. “But it feels like you don’t get why this is so important to me.”

“Are you serious right now?” he cut you off. “You know what, do whatever you want. I’ll just cancel the trip.”

“Rafe—”

“Forget it,” he said, already turning away, heading for the door. “Goodnight.”

He didn't even slam the door.

You sat down on the bed, your head in your hands, trying to calm down. You glance at your phone, thinking about texting him, apologizing maybe. But you weren’t ready for that yet. You needed space. You needed to breathe. You needed to get out of your own head, even just for a little while. You couldn’t stand being in the same room after that argument.

Without thinking much more about it, you grabbed your pillow and the spare blanket from the closet, making your way toward the guest bedroom. The bed in there wasn’t as comfortable or as big, but it would give you the distance you needed for the time being. You were pulling back the covers when you heard the door creak open. You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. 

He couldn't stay away longer than five minutes.

“Really?” His voice was low, almost disbelieving. “You’re gonna sleep in here?”

You stayed facing the bed, not turning to look at him. “I can’t do this right now.”

There was a pause, and then you heard him step closer. “No. That’s not how we’re doing this.”

You frowned, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can be pissed at me. You can need space, fine. But you’re not sleeping in here.” His voice was firm, and when you finally turned to look at him, his blue eyes were locked on yours, unwavering.

“Rafe—”

“I’m serious, baby." He moved closer, gently pulling the blanket from your hands. “You’re mad. I get it. But you’re still sleeping in our bed.”

You shook your head, trying to push the blanket back toward him. “I just—”

“No.” His voice softened, but he was still insistent. “I’m not letting you run away from me. We’ll deal with it. But we’re not doing this. You’re not sleeping alone.”

You looked at him and saw the same tiredness, the same frustration, in his face. He held your gaze for a moment longer before reaching out, and taking your hand in his.

“Come on. You belong in our bed.”

There was no fight left in you as you let him pull you back down the hall, back into the warmth of your shared space. As you settled beside him, Rafe reached over, his hand finding yours under the blankets, he traced small, absent patterns on the back of your hand, like you weren’t fighting just ten minutes ago.

He sighed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I already know you’re capable of handling anything.”

“It’s not about proving it to you,” you admitted, “It’s about proving it to myself. I need to know that no matter what happens—good or bad—I’ve earned it. That I deserve it.”

Rafe was quiet for a couple seconds, his eyes stuck on the ceiling. Then, his grip on your hand tightened slightly,  “I hate this,” he muttered finally.

You turned your head to look at him, “Hate what?”

“This.” He gestured between the two of you with his free hand. “Fighting like this. Making you feel like I’m pulling you in two different directions. Like you have to choose.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You’re not making me choose. I just, I want to build something for myself.”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “You think I don’t get that? You think I’m just some spoiled asshole who’s never had to work for anything?” He rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you more directly. “But I do get it. That’s why I’m trying so hard to be what you need me to be.”

Your heart twisted at the look on his face. He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face.

“Every time I look at you,” he murmured, his gaze softening, “I see everything you’ve done to get here. Everything you’ve pushed through. And it kills me, because I feel like I’ve just been dead weight. You spent months holding me together when I was falling apart. I could barely get out of bed some days baby, and you were there, making sure I was eating, making sure I was taking my meds, making sure I didn’t—I know how much you gave up for me.”

“Baby, stop,” you mumbled, the hurt in your chest almost unbearable. It hadn't been easy, but you didn't regret a single thing, wouldn't change anything. You'd do it all over again if you had to.

“No.” His voice was firm, “I hate that I put you through that. That I made you carry all that weight when you should’ve been focusing on yourself, your career. Hell, I wasn’t even there for you when you got promoted, because I was too busy trying to keep my shit together. And now I want to make up for that.”

You reached up, cupping his cheek, feeling the way his jaw unclenched under your touch. “You don’t have to make up for anything. You were going through something, and I wanted to be there for you.”

“I know you did,” he said softly, “But that’s why I’m doing this. I’m trying to be the guy you deserve—the guy who makes things easier for you, who makes you feel like you can breathe again.” He shook his head, teasing just a little, “But every time I try, it feels like I’m just reminding you of all the ways I’ve let you down.”

You blinked back the sudden tears. “You haven’t let me down. I need to find a balance. Between us and—” You gestured vaguely around you, trying to explain everything you were feeling. “And everything else.”

“I get that,” he murmured, leaning in closer until his forehead rested against yours. “But I also need you to let me in. Let me help you. Not because I want to throw money at it, but because I love you, and I want to see you happy. Not burnt out and exhausted.”

His voice broke a little on the last word, and you felt your initial stubbornness crumbling. “I know,” You squeezed your eyes shut, “I know. I just don’t want to lose everything I’ve been working for. I don’t want to get so wrapped up in us that I forget who I am outside of this.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his fingers brushing along your jaw. “You’re not going to lose yourself, okay? Not with me. You’re always going to be you. Even when you’re stressed and stubborn and driving me up the wall.” His lips quirked in a small, sad smile. “I’ll still be here. I just want to have a little time with you before life pulls us in a million directions again.”

You leaned into him, pressing your face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his chin resting on top of your head. It wasn’t that you didn’t want his help. You just needed to do this one thing for youself. You moved closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered earnestly, “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I don’t want to spend time with you. I do. It’s just hard to balance everything.”

You didn’t want to fight anymore. You wanted to figure it out. You wanted to compromise, because that's what you two always did.

“I’ll take the time off,” You felt him move beside you, his eyes on you now, curious but cautious. “But… I need a little time. Can we plan the trip for a couple of months from now? Once things settle down with work?”

He pulled back just enough to look down at you, his eyes searching your face. “You’d do that?”

You nodded, lifting your head. “I know I’ve been all over the place about this, but I get that we need time together. I just can’t drop everything right now. But in two months, I’ll be ready. We can go wherever you want.”

A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He shifted onto his side, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You mean it?”

“I mean it,” you said, smiling back at him. “We’ll go. No work emails, no distractions. Just us.”

He let out a breath he’d been holding, his fingers tracing along your jaw. “Two months, huh?”

You looked up at him, rolling your eyes lightly. “Yes, two months. And I’m going to hold that ‘no work emails’ rule, for you too.”

He chuckled, his lips curving into a genuine smile this time. “I figured.”

You swat at his chest lightly. “I’m serious. I want this trip to be for us. I need it to be something that we’re both looking forward to—not just you dragging me away because you think I’m overworking.”

“I know. I promise when we do go, it’ll be perfect. Wherever you want. No distractions.”

“Good,” you whispered, resting your head back on his shoulder. You listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. This was the peace after the storm, the moment when everything felt like it was falling into place again.

Rafe’s hand gently traced patterns on your arm, and he pressed a soft kiss to your head, “I’m proud of you. For everything. The promotion, the way you’ve been handling all of this. I’m proud to call you mine.”

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you, baby,” you murmured. “That means more to me than you know.”

He smiled, “Just don’t ever think you have to choose between me and your dreams, okay? I want you to have it all. I want us to have it all.”

You nodded, the last of your resistance melting away. “I know. And I want us to have it all, too. Together.”

His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer, “Good,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “’Cause I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”

[exhuastedpigeon]

Maybe I relate a little too much to Eddie because I'm also an eldest child in a Catholic family who was forced to grow up too quickly because my dad traveled 2-3 nights a week for work from the time I was 9 until, well he still does, but my god Eddie Diaz is my favourite guy.

He tried to drive his mom to the hospital when she went into labour because he was supposed to take care of her while she was nine months pregnant and his dad was out of town but he crashed the truck! They told it like a funny family story and Helena passive aggressively teased him by saying 'I thought he'd call someone not try to drive me himself!' as if they haven't been asking him to "drive" already. His parents had already put so much responsibility on him and so many expectations that his first thought wasn't to call for help, it was to do it himself. Because asking for help made him "weak". Because he needed to "be a man".

He got his first girlfriend pregnant and did what his parents wanted him to - he married her and he provided for her and his son. He just did it by following in his dad's footsteps and did that by running away. And then they threw it in his face and said Chris should stay with them because he needs stability and he barely knew Eddie because Eddie worked so much. Helena never would have said that to or about Ramon, but she said it about the son she turned into a mini parent to help her while she was raising her kids even though he was one of those kids.

His wife died and they tried to use that against him to make him move back to Texas even though he had put down roots in California. He built a good life for himself and his son without any of their help and because it wasn't the life they wanted for them, it wasn't the right life.

The second they had the chance to have Chris come stay with them they jumped at it. They will always view Eddie as the 10 year old boy who crashed the truck and not as the man he's grown into. He's learned how to ask for help and has built a family who offers help freely, without strings or guilt attached to it, but to him he's 10 years old and he's making a mess of things.

Ten years old is still a child. It's years away from being a legal adult. It's supposed to be an age where you make mistakes and learn who you are while having the safety net of your parents to help pick you up when you fall.

He was ten years old and he crashed a truck and they tease him about it still because they genuinely don't realize what growing up the way he did did to him. They (mostly Helena at this point) don't understand how they contributed to Eddie's pain. They don't see any of it because to them it wasn't important, they barely remember it. But he does. He remembers all of it.

"The axe forgets; the tree remembers"

[secretlyobito]

Arranged marriage! Itachi x reader

Itachi must fix the damage he caused

Contains: teeny tiny bit of angst that turned into a lot, fluff, nicer Itachi, hurt to comfort, mentions of itachi's illness.

Part 2 to this

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

What was that incessant pain? Y/N groans as she awakes from her slumber groggily. Her hands fly to the aching spot, her neck, which was strained from sleeping in such an odd position. Why exactly am I sleeping on the floor she thought but grimaces soon after, as she remembers what happened. She had fallen asleep crying, all thanks to Itachi.

She scowls as she remembers his cruel words and the awful sensation of the genjustsu he had trapped her in, what exactly did she do to deserve that? All that just because she tried to make their relationship civil. She hisses in pain as she gets up from her spot on the floor, her sore limbs cracking and groaning in protest. She could feel the stinging sensation of dried tears on her cheeks and the inevitable puffiness of her face. Above all she felt this immense sadness, she thought he would at least come in to check on her or apologise but he didn't, what a jerk.

The shuffling in the bedroom alerts Itachi that she's awake. He planned to go in earlier but decided against it after hearing how hard she she was crying, the last thing she needed was to see his face. Now however, he had no more excuses to not apologise. He slowly approaches the bedroom, his heart thumping in his chest. What if she tells her grandfather about this? What if Hiruzen decides to cancel their deal and go ahead with the execution of the Uchiha because of this? He couldn't believe he let his emotions get the best of him like this, the Uchiha could be dead by tonight thanks to him.

Knock knock. He knows twice on the door, his mind still racing with thoughts. He needed to make her forget about this whole thing one way or the other, the future of the clan, of his little brother depended on it.

Knock knock. Perhaps he should just be friendly with her, that was what she wanted after all. Maybe if he gave her what she wanted then she wouldn't tell on him. Itachi cringed at his internal monologue, he really let things spin out of control. He felt like he was eight years old again, trying to convince sasuke not to tell on him to their parents by bribing him with attention and piggyback rides. Humiliating

Knock kno- The door swings open revealing an angry Y/N, her eyes were puffy and red, her cheeks stained with dry tears. Itachi's heart sinks at the sight and he doesn't even know why. He absolutely did not want to take it this far, he hadn't meant to hurt her like this. "Y/N..."

She stares at him, as if trying to convey her emotions with her eyes, her eyes that were filled with pain and resentment, towards him. He slowly backs her into the room, shutting the door behind them. He hesitantly grabs her hand and leads her over to the bed, sitting her down gently. He can sense the hesitation in her, it's almost as if she's scared of him now, he sighs, he really messed up.

"I am sorry Y/N. My actions were....unbecoming of someone of my status, much less as your husband". She keeps her head turned a way from him petutantly, he was joking if he thought that was all it was going to take to obtain her forgiveness. She fake sniffles, deciding to punish him, hoping to give him 1/10th of the torment he put her through.

Itachi panicks as he hears her sniffle, before he can stop himself his hand are moving to wipe her 'tears'. They both stare at each other in shock at itachi's very unusual display of affection, he quickly withdraws his hands, clearing his throat as he tries to dispel the now akward atmosphere. "I understand the severity of what I did and while I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn it" he has to force the words out of his throat, reminding himself he was doing this for his clan's sake.

She looks at him in skepticism, not believing a damn word he's saying. She wasn't stupid, she knew he was only apologising because he didn't want her to tell on him. Her chest twisted as she took in the fact that he didn't even value her emotions, she sighs as she turns further away from him, she wished he would just get out.

The next few moments were like slow motion, one minute she was getting ready to tell him to leave, the next minute she felt him wrap his arms around her. What. The. Heck. She blinked rapidly in surprise as she did a double take, Itachi was indeed hugging her! And....she couldn't say it felt bad. Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe it was the emotional trauma but she let herself relax into him. He was warm and smelt like a rainy day.

Itachi let out a breath as he felt her relax into his touch, he knew he had to show her he was sorry not just say it. It felt strange, all his instincts were screaming at him not to do this, he knew he had started to fall down a bottomless hole, surely he couldn't be falling for her. But would that be so wrong? His whole life he had trained himself like a machine, deliberately preventing himself from getting attached to anyone because the truth was, he couldn't. His health put a ticking time bomb on his life and he knew it was only a matter of time before he would succumb to sickness. He couldn't do this to her, he couldn't let her fall in love with him and then leave her but despite the storm raging in his mind, he felt himself pulling her closer. He held her tight as he breathed in the scent of her hair, he felt all his defenses crumbling and for once, he decided to let it happen. He would let himself this one selfish thing before he eventually met his demise, he would let himself love.

Months go by and true to his resolution, Itachi let himself grow closer to Y/N. They grew accustomed to each other's company, slept in the same bed and even called eachother pet names, Itachi's favourite for her being 'flower'.

Yet deep in his heart, he knew this was wrong. He knew he was doing a terrible thing, letting her love him knowing he could die at any moment, he shook his head trying to clear his thoughts as he waited on the living couch. The sky outside was painted beautifully with hues of orange and pink as the sun set. It was 6:28pm, much longer than when she was supposed to be home from work.

On a normal day, Itachi wouldn't even be home by this time but since he had no missions today, he decided to relax. His relaxation was cut short however, when he realized his wife wasn't back home the time she was supposed to be. Y/N was never really late on the days he was home, she was always home by 5 or a few minutes after. He was starting to get worried, was she ok? Did something happen?.

His thoughts were cut short as she pushed through the living room door "Hi Tachi, sorry I'm home late" she greets with a tight smile. Itachi was up on his feet immediately, something was wrong, her hair was disheveled and she looked shaken, not to mention that fake smile she just tried to fool him with. "flower, what happened?"

Her eyes widen as she hears his question, she shakes her head as she tries to push past him, "nothing I'm fine" Itachi blocks her path as he observes her with worry, he squints as he notices her hiding her left arm behind her back. "What are you doing? What happend to your hand" he asks trying to grab her hand, his eyes widen in shock as she jerks it back almost immediately, stumbling away from him. "N-nothing! I already told you" Itachi frowns as he watches her lie and move away from him "No more games Y/N let me see your hand" "It's fine Tachi, really!".

He scoffs as he approaches her slowly, determined to find out what's wrong with her. "I said I'm fine" she argues bringing her right hand to his chest to shove him away but Itachi uses the opening to grab the hand on his chest and yank her forward. She yelps as she stumbles into him, instinctively bringing out her left hand to balance herself. Itachi sees this and finally grabs the hand she had been hiding, bringing it up to his face to inspect it.

His eyes widen as he takes in the hand, her knuckles are busted, blood caking the skin. Her usually smooth skin is littered with cut and bruises. "What the hell Y/N! What is this??" "I-I fell" "cut the bullshit! Tell me what happened now damnit!" Itachi pleads, his chest tightening as he takes in her injured fist "please...."

She sighs as she takes in the distraught look on his face, she hated when he worried about her.

"My boss came in to work drunk today..." she starts, Itachi nods listening intently as he cradles her bruised fist in his larger one, gently caressing the flesh. "He started making a scene and yelling at eveyone, we had no idea what to do and we couldn't exactly call the police on him. Then he approached me.....he started telling me I was the worst worker here and that i was only in my position because of ji-chan. He called me names too, then he...." she stops her face contorting in discomfort.

"Then he what?" Itachi urges, moving his hand to rub her shoulder comfortignly. She takes a deep breath "......Then he touched me".

"..............."

".............."

"..........he did what?"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ya'll this was supposed to be fluff but the spirit of angst possessed me and I started writing about Itachi's illness 😭 guess this story's not gonna have a happy ending. Also just so you know, Itachi's gonna beat a bitch up in part 3, leave a like or reblog if you enjoyed!♡

[chimindity]

Taking a nap on brother!rafe ; that would be so confortable to lay on his chest :(( I got this idea from my angel @marvelfanfics1 ♡ Warning | reader is a toddler. A/N | Rafe icon by @marvelfanfics1

Rafe has been spinning around as he is on a call with Barry, arguing about something you shouldn't hear about. You glance at him from time to time as you play with your Calico critters. -"No shit, man, you don't get it," you hear him huff. A pout appears on your face as you look up at him, afraid he might be angry at you.

You have always been empathy, and even though you don't understand why your brother is angry, you feel your heart shrank as he lets out a sigh of annoyance before sprawling himself on the sofa.

You sit up on your knees, watching him massage his temples while swearing under his breath, you don't know if you shouldn't pay him attention or keeping him company, you slowly stand up and walk to him. -"What do you want? Go play outside, sis," he motions you to move away as you stand in front of him.

-"I said move," he huffs, running his fingers through his hair, the tone of his voice causes you to fidget nervously with the hem of your dress, you shake your head and thump your feet against the floor.

He glances up at you when you don't budge, -"What do you want?" He sits up on the sofa trying his best to not let his anger out on you, you slowly raise your hand and point out his chest, a confused look quickly appears on his face, he raises his eyebrows in confusion, -"Speak up, and get to the point already, I don't have all day" he huffs, beginning to lose his patience.

-"Can I sleep on you, Rafey?" You mumble, swinging your arms nervously afraid he would tell you to get out. He stares at you, not really sure how to respond, but the sight of your small figure standing in front of him asking to be cuddled to sleep warms his heart, and suddenly the amount of anger in his heart is decreasing.

He thinks a few seconds before eventually answers you, -"uh, yeah f'course c'mere" he opens his arms wide indicating you to come to him. A wide smile lights up your face as you sprawl yourself on him, curling yourself on his chest. He feels like his heart could explode at any moment, and suddenly he doesn't even remember why he was angry in the first place. -"Am I comfortable enough for you to take a nap on me?" He chuckles as he steadies you on top of him.

You hum, feeling his warmth radiating from his arms. You begin to fidget with the button of his collar as he draws patterns on your back with his fingers. -"Why did you get angry? Did I do something bad?" You ask, struggling to keep your eyes open as you feel your eyelids becoming heavier. -"No, of course not— just, just don't mind it, kid k'ay? It's grown-up problems" He reassures you by leaving a quick kiss on top of your head.

-"But I'm a grown-up; I can help you, Rafey." You raise your head from his chest to look at him. A smirk appears on his face as he gently pulls you back onto his chest. -"It's not your job to do that, sweetheart. Now, why don't you rest a little, huh? I bet that pretty mind of yours is exhausted." He tsks at you and continues rubbing your back, causing you to doze off on him.

The thoughts in his mind are gone, completely forgetting about the problem with Barry earlier. He feels your heartbeat against his chest as he hears you softly snoring, your fists tightly clenching his shirt.

Taglist

@marvelfanfics1 @nemesyaaa @mrvlxgrl @wearemadeofstardust0 @mylettterstoyou @jjsfavgirl @jjssurferbaby

[azrielgreen]

random question, but why Nebraska? I live in the US and often forget Nebraska even exists, but you happen to have two stories set there. Do you have a connection to Nebraska, or did you just choose a state at random in the middle of the country? Or do you find something poetic about the expansive nothingness of the Cornhusker state?

just curious.

So, it's really strange but Nebraska holds a deep emotional meaning in my heart that involves Ethel Cain, Billy Hargrove and 'Rooms'. Apologies for the little ramble ahead, but for those who enjoy such things, gather round.

When I first started writing Rooms, I was experiencing a lot of burnout, very much questioning myself as a writer and also recovering still from a near death experience. I had made a new friend who became such an important and beautiful part of my life, and it was in this time of loss, self-doubt and awakening that I felt comfortable enough to share with my new friend that I loved the character Billy Hargrove. This sounds so stupid even as I'm writing it now, but I had been made to feel that liking him was this extremely taboo thing and that I should be ashamed of it. Even a former friend I thought I was close with often made me feel terrible for liking him. My new friend was not like that. We talked for hours and hours about the things we liked, and I felt brave enough to admit that of all the characters, every single one, in ST, Billy is my favourite. My friend was kind and open and supportive and it was here, around this time that we started writing a story together that would later become Prism and coming up with all these incredible ideas and perspectives I had never considered. Although people credit me with much of Prism Eddie's creation and expansion, always remember it is @thorniest-rose who invented him.

This is when I wrote Rooms.

This is also the time I discovered Ethel fucking Cain.

A House in Nebraska and Sun Bleached Flies altered my DNA and I listened to them both back to back on a loop while writing Rooms. It became something so meaningful and personal and beautiful, and all three are tangled up together. Inextricable connections between these things I love so much and at the heart of it all, is Nebraska. I've never been to Nebraska, but I imagine it to be exactly as you said. The great, vast nothingness, the absence of any significant pull to visit or tour there. It's sort of branded into me, the line about 'I'm still praying for that house in Nebraska, by the highway on the edge of town,' and it's all tangled up with Billy Hargrove and the possibilities of an abused kid making good, coming through the other side, learning and growing. Longing for this quiet, no man's land of blue skies and endless horizon. I would often dream of such things myself. Just a house. Somewhere I was safe. And I wrote all this at a time when I met someone I came to love and care about so much in mutual support and kindness, and it's why Rooms is gifted to her.

Opening yourself up to new things is such a beautiful and important phenomenon, especially when you're grieving or recovering. Rooms to me is a touchstone of reassurance that I can write whatever the fuck I want and anyone who tries to tell me different is not my friend. Nebraska has become an almost nebulous place in my mind and heart, to the point I get excited when I hear anyone even mention it in passing. I think we put meaning where we need to, anthropomorphising and humanising and telling stories to get through the hard parts of life. Nebraska is the core of that for me. Synonymous with self-acceptance, growth, positive change, releasing what doesn't serve, embracing who you are, saying fuck you to those who would police your joy and creating whatever the fuck you want without needing it to be liked, but also this deeply sad part of myself that acknowledges what I went through as a child and what I experienced at the hands of people who were supposed to take care of me. I have at this point in my life lost a huge amount of my childhood memories all the way up to my late twenties. Nebraska is the long distance friend I never had, the moon watching over me, the place I go to in my mind to make it all go quiet and calm. I feel like I've written this huge story around a place I've never been to and for some reason, it just stuck hard.

Like many British kids growing up watching America on our screens, I always wanted to live there and although I'm now glad I don't, I'll always be in love with the country and all her patchwork quilt states, these weird little lands sewn together that are so different, almost like a world unto itself. I never choose a state randomly, but Nebraska is laden with meaning and woven with feeling, all of which I'm sure seems massively unearned as I'm just another person who grew up in a rainy country, longing for blue skies, with a tendency to love abandoned things.

Thank you for asking.

All my love, Az

💜💜💜

[coconinonankoweap]

.

[journey-to-the-attic]

Am I going crazy or is the start of Chapter 10 different now??! I swear I don't remember that opening scene with the royals???

aha! yeah, i wanted to modify it a little to fit into the more evolved vision i have of mephisto's backstory now - also previously the opening sequence 'dream/flashback' was just kinda There, but in editing i decided to try integrating it in a bit more in the form of a vision ik actually experiences, which i needed to then put into context by adding that scene

i've been going back to edit chapters more recently! initially this was because i wanted to get back to that wattpad port, which is smooth sailing mostly apart from when i have to format the text conversations, because wattpad's editor is absolutely shit at dealing with alignments?? i've half a mind to give up on it to be completely honest

also also you might notice that i've gone back and put the actual chat stickers into the text conversations, which was just a little extra detail for me hehe

[philosophiums]

If the sky falls down right now, you're the one that I'll worship...

[itsagrimm]

Leida Mothma and the struggle for identity

Mon Mothma says about her daughter Leida practicing traditions: "It's weird. It's stronger here than it is at home." And I can't stop thinking about Leida Mothma and her portrayal as a very privileged yet uprooted kid with a migrant background being unusually traditional.

Growing up away from the culture and the people she is supposed to be part of, is challenging and confusing. It is hard to find identity as a teenage migrant, culture and personal access to her people's traditions when removed from it. And it is not surprising that Leida seeks out the most overt and uncomplicated access she can find to her culture and heritage, even if those are conservative and regressive. Those practices are a lifeline for her, simply because she has or knows of no other options.

As someone with a fairly similar background IRL I sympathise deeply with her character. It is a failure of the society she lives in to include her as she is in a way, that would not drive her into dogmatic traditionalism for identity. And it is worryingly normal for kids to feel like they have to hyper-conform in one way or another to have access to their migrant families background or the societal expectations of the place they live in now. It's as if we still haven't figured out how to be inclusive of those we don't understand. And the most vulnerable are the collateral of that.

[sonicattos]

encouraging my followers that archie sonic is good, actually if you have a big enough brain to enjoy it. (ghost voice) ooooo… you willl read archieeeee….. you wiiilll enjoy iiiiitttt… ooooooooo……..

[doctorweebmd]

so there's this post floating around about like, feeling like an outsider even in a group of outsiders and i almost reblogged it being like

'aha i do that'

except. like. i know exactly why that happens, and its 100% my fault

i just have trouble maintaining relationships because i'm a poor communicator. that's been the case since high school. i dont really initiate conversations or remember to text or call people. its not from a place of indifference or anything like that - i'm sincerely an 'out of sight out of mind' kind of person.

i can not talk to and not see someone for months or years but my feelings for them don't change. it doesn't bother me if people dont check in on me or don't hang out with me or don't text me. i still like them. unfortunately that is not how 99% of the population communicates. people (rightfully) assume that when someone doesn't initiate conversation or hang-outs or doesn't check in on you, that they don't care about you. for me, thats not the case at all. like if i like you and consider you my friend, you are ALWAYS my friend. i would do anything for you and would be more than happy to talk/see each other/support you/etc. its just the day-to-day communication that i really struggle with. but thats how most relationships form - regular, consistent communication.

i've gone through periods of extreme guilt for this where i sincerely try, and make new friends, and re-connect with texting and phone calls and hanging out more often but inevitably something happens, i get busy or i forget and suddenly all this time passes and people think i dont care anymore. unfortunately that's not the case whatsoever - time is kind of abstract to me and i dont understand that while my feelings don't change, others feel more distant or abandoned.

and i've really hurt people in my life like that. friends that i've known for many years from high school/college are a LITTLE more forgiving because they know i'm just 'like that' but still. it does hurt people. like i haven't spoken to my dad in probably at least a year - not because i dont love him, but because of that same reason. he doesn't reach out and i forget and it just steamrolls because he gets hurt, doesn't reach out because he thinks i'm intentionally 'ignoring' him, and i continue to forget, and its just this viscous cycle. i haven't talked to my grandparents in months. my mom knows better and texts me every week or so, but it still hurts her that she has to reach out so regularly. she also plays these games where she sees how 'long' it takes for me to remember to reach out. a lot of people in my life have done that. its like i'm being tested on something without ever being told its a standard test, ya know? i'm always destined to fail it because i dont know how long is too long. at which point will the time and distance be unacceptable? i still dont know the answer.

and i think it makes me come off as a really heartless and callous person. its made me kind of keep people at arms-length because i know i'm not capable of being a part of most people's lives. i have perfectly normal and pleasant relationships with my coworkers and all that, but i'm generally not close with them. and i can see the confusion, because we hang out and i'm pretty normal or whatever and we have fun and then they don't hear from me for months and they're like 'uhhhh.... okay? so i guess you don't like me?'

i do. i just have different relationship maintenance standards than others i guess. so i just overall avoid being around others just because i know i'll disappoint them. it is what it is but it really is sad, in a way.