#do that too maybe? or I wouldn’t be able to?

[helen-with-an-a]

Not Fair

So this is something that has been in my head for a while and I needed to get it out. Would anyone be after a part 2 (maybe a smutty pt 2? I hope you enjoy it <3<3<3

Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: It's been a long time since Lena has been able to do anything with you and she's fairly sure your teasing her.

Word Count: 3.8k

TW: Suggestiveness

It had been two months since Lena’s injury. Two months of painful rehab and sleepless nights. Every day was a battle, each movement a reminder of her limitations. She could still feel the ache in her bones, the stiffness in her muscles, and it was a constant reminder of her struggle.

It was a blessing and a curse that it had happened during the summer. A blessing that now she had no excuse not to sit out in the sunshine with you and absorb the last of the golden rays. A blessing that you had uninterrupted time to spend with each other. A blessing that you were granted privacy that the regular football season wouldn’t have offered. It was a blessing that she often found you lounging around the house in her jersey, and only her jersey or her shorts and a bra – claiming that it was far too hot for anything so mundane as clothes.

It was a curse because she couldn’t do anything about it.

Your sex life prior to her injury had been nothing less than perfect. Quickies in the shower after training. Long nights where you relished in each other’s arms. Spontaneous adventures fuelled by passion and mutual desire, leaving you both breathless and content. Every touch, every kiss, had always been electric, a testament to the deep connection you shared.

But now, with Lena’s injury and the limitations it imposed, everything had changed. The spontaneous passion was replaced by tender, careful moments that highlighted the gap between what you once had and what you could manage now. To put it lightly, Lena was horny. Really, really horny. And she was convinced that you were doing it on purpose.

The way you worked out in the garden, your skin glistening with sweat as you finished up your movements. The way you carelessly let ice cream drip down onto your chest as it melted, a soft giggle and quiet "oops" leaving your lips as you wiped it up. You seemed to revel in the freedom of your less-than-dressed state, and Lena was left to watch, her frustration mingling with an undeniable sense of longing.

She was lying on the couch, her leg dutifully resting out in front of her, the ugly brace she still had to wear discarded on the coffee table. You were busying yourself with tidying up dinner. The soft hum of the dishwasher filled the room as you wiped down the counter, organising stray utensils and putting away leftovers. Every so often, you glanced at her, noting the way her gaze followed your every move.

“Y’know, if you’re tired, we can head to bed,” you called over your shoulder, trying to keep your voice light.

“’M definitely not tired,” she said lowly, her voice holding that note that had your skin tingling.

You turned to face her, catching the faint glimmer of amusement in her eyes despite her attempt at nonchalance. The room was bathed in the soft, warm glow of the overhead light, casting gentle shadows that danced across the walls.

“Okay, baby. Whatever you say.” you said with a teasing smile as you finished wiping down the counter. You dried your hands on a towel and moved closer to her. She shifted slightly on the couch, letting you have some space to lie down next to her.

You stared inquisitively at the space, biting your lip in a way that was making Lena crazy. She studied you as you looked at the gap she had created, your gaze shifting between the empty area and her body. Your concentration was evident, and Lena couldn’t help but be mesmerised by the sight before her.

You weren’t wearing much – an oversized white top that flowed around your frame like a soft, airy cloud, leaving your legs and arms exposed. The fabric was so loose that it accentuated the curves of your body in a way that was both casual and tantalising. Your hair, still loose and tousled from the day's activities, framed your face in wild, inviting waves that added to your effortlessly sexy appearance. The dishevelled look only seemed to enhance your natural allure, making you look both unbothered and irresistibly attractive.

Lena's eyes traced the contours of your silhouette, admiring how the top hung off one shoulder just so, and how the hemline brushed against your thighs with every subtle shift of your weight. The way you bit your lip, deep in thought, drove her to the edge of her composure. It was a habit of yours – an unconscious gesture that somehow managed to be both endearing and intensely alluring.

“As much as I appreciate the space,” you said with a playful grin, “I think I’ll take my seat riiiiight here.”

You eased yourself down gracefully onto the couch, positioning yourself carefully so that your legs draped casually over Lena’s lap. The motion was deliberate, a blend of relaxation and intimacy that spoke volumes without needing words. Your choice of seating was both affectionate and teasing, a clear declaration of your closeness and comfort with each other.

Your legs, bare and smooth, rested lightly on her lap, the contact warm and reassuring. Lena could feel the gentle weight of your limbs, the subtle shift in her own body as she adjusted to accommodate you. The way you positioned yourself was intimate, an unspoken message of your need to be close, to maintain a physical connection despite the changes in your lives.

Your fingers began to move instinctively, brushing through Lena’s hair with a tenderness that was both soothing and affectionate. You let your touch wander through the soft strands, fingers tangling gently with her curls as if trying to memorise their texture. The motion was slow and deliberate, a quiet act of love and attention that contrasted sharply with the playful tone of your earlier words.

Lena closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to fully appreciate the sensation of your touch. The rhythmic stroking of your fingers through her hair was calming, almost hypnotic. It was as if you were weaving a tapestry of comfort and connection, stitching together the spaces between you with each gentle caress.

The room seemed to quiet around you, the only sounds being the soft rustling of your movements and the occasional hum of contentment from Lena. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, a cocoon of warmth and affection that enveloped you both.

As you continued to play with her hair, your touch grew more exploratory, tracing gentle patterns on her scalp. Each stroke was imbued with care and love, a silent promise of your enduring connection. Lena’s senses were fully attuned to you, her body relaxing further into the couch as she savoured the tenderness of your gestures.

The way you looked at her, with a mixture of affection and mischief, made Lena’s heart flutter. Your eyes, bright and full of a playful gleam, held her gaze with an intensity that was both captivating and disarming. There was a tenderness in your expression, tempered with just the right amount of teasing, that sent a shiver of warmth down her spine.

“Too far away,” Lena managed to breathe out, her voice barely above a whisper, as she shifted slightly in her seat. The words were an admission of her longing for closeness, a subtle plea for more of your comforting presence.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you replied, your voice soft and laden with sincerity. The tone of your words was so imbued with affection that it felt almost divine. It was as if you were her personal angel, sent from some celestial realm just to provide her with the comfort and reassurance she needed. The way you spoke, with such gentle care and loving intonation, made Lena feel cherished and adored in a way that went beyond mere words

She whined when your hands left her hair, a soft, pitiful sound that escaped her lips with an involuntary desperation. The sound was almost a whimper, an audible sign of her yearning for your touch, and it carried with it a mix of vulnerability and need. The whine was both plaintive and revealing, a candid expression of how deeply she craved the comfort and closeness your hands provided.

Her cheeks flushed with heat, a deep pink spreading across her face, but it was not just from embarrassment. The intense flush was driven by the potent blend of emotions you had stirred within her – both the longing for your touch and the undeniable arousal that accompanied your affectionate gestures. The warmth that suffused her cheeks was a direct response to her heightened state.

You resettled yourself on her lap, your movements deliberate and tender as you adjusted to find the most comfortable position. With your legs draped on either side of her hips, you created an intimate embrace that enveloped her in your warmth. The way you situated yourself allowed you to be close, your body molding seamlessly with hers in a way that was both reassuring and sensually charged.

As soon as you were settled, Lena’s hands instinctively found their place on your hips. Her fingers, delicate yet firm, traced the contours of your waist and hips with a practiced ease. The touch was gentle, almost worshipful, as if she was trying to memorise the feeling of your skin beneath her fingertips. Her palms rested lightly against you, the warmth of her touch radiating through the thin fabric of your clothing.

Lena's grip on your hips was soft but unmistakably possessive, a silent declaration of her affection and desire. She squeezed the skin lightly, her fingers curling around the curves of your body with a tender, lingering pressure. Each squeeze was a wordless communication of her yearning, an intimate conversation conveyed through touch.

The closeness between you was palpable, the way your bodies pressed together creating a cocoon of shared warmth. Her hands moving across your hips brought with it a heightened sense of connection, a reminder of the bond you shared even when words fell short. The sensation of her hands on you was grounding, a soothing contrast to the heightened emotions that had been building between you.

You shifted slightly, feeling the subtle, sensual pressure of her touch accentuate the already electric atmosphere. Your own hands moved to rest on her shoulders, your fingers gently kneading the soft fabric of her clothing. The exchange was fluid, a dance of touch and proximity that deepened the intimacy of the moment.

Lena's eyes fluttered closed as she savoured the sensation, her breathing becoming more measured and deliberate. The gentle pressure of her fingers on your hips was a contrast to the fiery emotions simmering beneath the surface. Her touches were slow and deliberate, exploring the familiar terrain of your body with a sense of reverence and desire.

“So pretty,” you whispered, your voice a soft murmur that seemed to hang in the air like a delicate caress. Your eyes traced over her features with a reverential gaze, taking in the intricate beauty that was uniquely hers. The admiration in your eyes was palpable, as if you were seeing her for the first time, even though you knew her so well.

You allowed your fingers to move gently, your nail tracing a soft path along her eyebrow. The light touch was almost imperceptible but incredibly intimate, a feather-light graze that made her skin tingle in its wake. You followed the arch of her brow with careful precision, savouring the way her skin responded to your touch.

Your fingers then drifted to her nose, the movement as delicate as a whisper. You traced along the bridge of her nose, your touch lingering momentarily at the tip. The sensation of your nail against her skin created a ripple of warmth, a gentle reminder of the closeness you shared. Each movement was deliberate and tender, a testament to the depth of your affection.

Lena’s eyes fluttered closed, succumbing to the sensory symphony you orchestrated with your touch. The sensations you created cascaded over her like a gentle wave, sending a deep, soothing pleasure through her entire being. Her breath caught in her throat, a sharp intake of air that underscored the profound intimacy of the moment. Every brush of your fingers, every trace of your nail, heightened her awareness, making her skin feel exquisitely sensitive, almost electrified.

You took your time, meticulously savouring each detail of her features. Your touch was deliberate and slow, a careful mapping of the contours and lines that defined her beautiful face. Each stroke of your finger was imbued with tenderness, as if you were cherishing and preserving every aspect of her beauty.

As you continued your exploration, Lena’s heart beat a little faster, her emotions intertwining with the physical sensations you were evoking. The intimate nature of your touch created a cocoon of closeness between you, enveloping you both in a private, shared moment that felt both timeless and fleeting.

“Nicht so schön wie du,” Lena chided softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. The reverent tone of her words was tinged with affection, a quiet acknowledgment of the depth of your connection. Her eyes remained closed, but her lips curved into a faint, contented smile as she spoke, her voice filled with admiration for you.

“Such a flirt, Ms. Oberdorf,” you teased in response, your voice low and playful. You leaned in closer, so your lips were mere millimetres from hers, the proximity creating a palpable tension between you. The warmth of your breath mingled with hers, and the gentle tease in your voice carried a flirtatious undertone that contrasted with the tenderness of the moment.

Lena’s smile widened at your playful response, her lips tingling with the anticipation of your next move. The space between your lips was charged with a delicate electricity, a shared understanding of the closeness and affection that defined your relationship. The playful exchange only added to the intimacy of the moment, a reminder of how deep your love ran and the ease with which you could transition from tender admiration to flirtatious banter.

Your lips were pillowy soft – gentle and warm against Lena’s rough and chapped ones. The differences had your mind reeling in the best way. Each movement was deliberate and slow, allowing the warmth of your lips to gradually soften the rough edges of hers. The touch was like a gentle caress, a deliberate act of kindness that spoke volumes of your care and affection.

As you continued to kiss her, your lips moved with a soft, rhythmic pressure, adding a layer of warmth that melted away any remnants of roughness. You both melted into each other, drawing each other close as your arms wrapped around her neck, your fingers threading themselves into her hair seemingly of their own accord.

Lena’s fingers, initially brushing lightly against the fabric bunch up around your hips, ventured further. She let her hands drift slowly, relishing the sensation of finally reaching the smooth expanse of your skin. When her fingers made contact with your arse, the sensation was electric. She sighed appreciatively, the sound a soft murmur of contentment.

The contrast between the roughness of her hands and the silky texture of your skin had her thoughts racing, a blend of sensations and emotions that left her breathless. The way your body responded to her touch, the way her fingers glided over your skin, made her feel entirely consumed by you. Her senses were overwhelmed; every touch of your skin, every soft whimper that escaped your lips added to her growing excitement and desire.

Each gentle caress seemed to amplify her feelings, heightening the intimacy of the moment. The warm, smooth sensation of your skin beneath her fingertips was intoxicating, a constant reminder of how deeply connected and intertwined you both were. The soft, pleasurable sounds that escaped your lips as she explored further only deepened her own sense of longing and arousal.

As Lena continued to trace her fingers over your body, her touch grew more assured, guided by the rhythm of your reactions. The way your skin responded to her delicate exploration – each shiver, each sigh – served as a tantalising feedback loop that drove her passion. The intimate connection you shared was electric, each movement and touch creating a crescendo of emotion that left her yearning for more.

She shifted her position slightly, adjusting to press even closer against you. Her hands roamed with an eager curiosity, each touch and caress becoming more fervent. The boundaries between your bodies seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of skin against skin, warmth against warmth. Lena's breaths came in shallow, ragged gasps, each one a testament to how profoundly she was affected by your presence.

The way your body responded – your reactions, the way you moulded to her touch – created an intoxicating dance of passion. Every subtle movement, every shift in your posture seemed to draw her deeper into the moment. It was as though you were both lost in a shared dream, where reality blurred and only the sensation of each other’s touch mattered.

Her lips parted slightly, her breaths mingling with yours as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath adding another layer to the shared intimacy. Her touch became a mix of tenderness and need, exploring with a growing urgency. The sensation of her fingers tracing over your smooth skin, the way her touch made you shiver, the way you writhed above her – it was almost too much.

“Baby,” you gasped, your voice a weak rasp as you pulled away just enough to catch your breath. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, and the need to pause and gather yourself was palpable. The connection between you was so profound that every sensation felt magnified, every touch and caress sending ripples of pleasure that left you breathless.

Lena’s gaze was locked on you, her eyes filled with a mix of concern and desire. She could see the effect her touch had on you, the way your body responded with an almost frenetic energy. Her fingers remained poised in mid-air, a subtle reminder of the tenderness and urgency she had been expressing. The momentary distance only heightened the anticipation, leaving both of you suspended in a state of yearning.

Her breaths came in shallow bursts, matching the rhythm of your gasps. She took a moment to steady herself, her fingers lightly skimming your skin in a delicate dance. The gentle touches were now more exploratory, tracing soft patterns as if trying to soothe the intensity of the moment while still maintaining the closeness that had drawn you both so deeply into this shared experience.

“Are you okay?” Lena whispered, her voice a soft, concerned murmur. The tenderness in her tone was a stark contrast to the fervour of the moment, reflecting her genuine care for your well-being even as desire simmered beneath her calm exterior. Her eyes searched yours for any sign of discomfort or distress, her touch gentle and reassuring

“We … we need to stop.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. Lena’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before her expression softened with understanding. Her concern for your well-being was evident in the gentle furrow of her brow and the way her fingers paused in their delicate exploration. She took a deep, steadying breath, her stare never leaving yours, as she absorbed the weight of your words.

“It’s … not fair. We can’t … you … your knee. It’s not …” Your voice faltered, the concern for Lena’s well-being overtaking the rush of emotions. You so desperately wanted to continue, but what if she hurt herself more? What if she pushed too hard and exacerbated her injury? The fear of causing her further pain, of not being able to protect her from the very consequences of something that was very much in your control, was overwhelming.

The vulnerability in your voice was palpable, and Lena’s eyes softened with understanding. She reached out, her hands gently cupping your face, her touch a grounding force. You let your eyes close as you leaned into her hand – the warmth doing more for you than the summer sun ever could.

“It’s okay,” Lena said softly, her voice carrying a soothing, reassuring quality. “I’m okay. I promise.” You opened your eyes, locking your gaze onto her chocolate ones. Her eyes were steady and full of warmth, a silent promise that she was with you, that your concerns were heard and valued.

“I’m good,” Lena’s fingers remained gently cradling your face, their warmth and tenderness a silent reassurance. She leaned in slightly, her breath mingling with yours, creating a shared intimacy that was both calming and profound. The closeness of her presence was a balm to your anxious thoughts, grounding you in the moment.

“But … I don’t want to hurt you,” you confessed. the words trembling slightly as they left your lips. The fear of causing Lena any discomfort, of exacerbating her injury or pushing her beyond her limits, was heavy on your heart. It was a deep-seated concern that you couldn’t shake, no matter how much you wanted to be close to her. Lena dropped her hands from your face, placing them back on the designated place at your hips.

Lena’s eyes softened further, and she shook her head gently, her touch remaining tender and comforting. “You won’t hurt me,” she said, her voice steady and filled with conviction. “If you don’t want to continue, that’s fine. We can stop if you want to. But I don’t want this silly little idea that you will hurt me to be the reason.” Her words carried a reassuring warmth, designed to dispel the worry that had taken root in your mind.

“It’s not silly,” you huffed a little, your face flushing in embarrassment. The warmth of Lena’s gaze and the gentle reassurance in her voice made it clear that your concerns were understood and respected, even if they felt overwhelming to you.

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, her tone earnest. Lena’s thumb lightly brushed repetitively over your skin, her touch tender and reassuring. She took a moment to let her words settle before leaning in closer, her breath hot against your skin. “You’re so important to me,” Lena continued, her look unwavering.

“I love you, baby.” The words tumbled out of your mouth without thinking. It wasn’t the first time you had said those words, they were commonplace in your daily vocabulary with Lena, but there was something different about this time. The confession was raw and unguarded. Lena pulled you closer, as if she were trying to hold onto the moment for as long as she could.

“I love you,” Lena whispered, her voice thick with emotion. The air between you seemed to thrum with intensity. The world outside seemed to blur and fade. You could have been the only two people on the planet, and you wouldn’t have noticed.

[wandaslittlelove]

Freak

Pairing: Agathario x Daughter!Reader Warnings: Mentions of bullying

“Mama? Mami?” the six year old calls out into the dark bedroom. It was about midnight. The moon shining through the cracks of the blinds. The girl had been put to bed hours ago but had woken up a little bit ago. Agatha wakes to her arm being shaken. She quickly turns on the small bedside lamp as she takes the small girl into her arms. Rio wakes at the movement having never been a light sleeper.

“Niña?” Rio says softly as she looks over to see her daughter in her wife's arms. There are small tears running down your cheeks as you look over at your mami. 

“Am I a freak?” Both women are taken back by your question looking at each other to see if they knew what you were talking about. They were both fully awake now Rio reaching out to brush your hair from your face and the tears from your eyes as Agatha gently rocked you.

“No baby no. Why would you think that?” Agatha asks as her hands rub up and down your back.

“The girls at school. They say that I’m a freak because of how I look because-” You pause in your sentence as you look up at Rio and immediately she understands what you mean. You had taken most of Agatha’s features. Your hair being a wavy brown and eyes a baby blue. Head to two you were like a mini version of her all except one aspect. You hadn’t learned to control the transformation yet. How to stop the bones that appeared out of nowhere. Out of all things Rio wished you wouldn’t have gotten that part of her. “They say I'm disgusting. That I shouldn’t be alive.” You whisper as you bury your face in your mama’s chest. 

“My darling, you are not disgusting or a freak, you are beautiful.” Agatha speaks as she looks to Rio. She can tell that her mind is racing. That she’s blaming herself. They had always feared you would get made fun of for it. Rio feared you would grow to despise her for it. That you would blame her for not being able to be fully normal. It’s part of the reason they had enrolled you in a school specifically for witches. They thought that maybe the kids would go easier. But it seemed that wasn’t happening.

“Do you think mami is a freak?” Agatha asks, causing both of your heads to turn at her wide eyed.

“No! Of course not.” You answered quickly as your head turned to look at Rio. Your tiny hands reached for her. Trying to show you didn’t think that. “Mami is pretty.” Rio’s heart melts at your words.

“Rio shows her.” Agatha says and Rio knows immediately what she’s asking. Rio had only shown you her true form a handful of times. Scared that you would think she’s a monster. With a deep breath the bottom part of her face turns into bone.

“Do you still think Mami is pretty?” Rio waits silently. Her nerves grow but quickly melt the second you bring a hand up to touch the bone.

“Yes.” You answer with no hesitation. Rio takes your hand in hers holding it tightly before changing back and pressing a kiss to your hand.

t

“That’s right. Mami is beautiful even when she looks like a skeleton and you my love are too. If mami is beautiful then so are you because you look like her. My skeletons.” A laugh escapes your lips at your mama’s words. Rio shares a smile with you both before a smirk overtakes her features. Moving quickly she plucks you out of Agatha’s lap and lays down with you trapped in her arms. Agatha joins in quickly, her hands tickling you as you squirm and try to get free.

Tomorrow they would have a talk with your principal and find out who was saying this stuff to you. Tomorrow they would continue to remind you that you are beautiful and loved. 

[m4rv3l-girl]

Happens to the Best of Us - Part 5

Bucky x Barnes

Y/N needs help with everything…

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Note: You may notice a change in narrative voice. I just found it quite stifling to write in 2nd person 🫶

Warnings: Smut. Fingering. Oral (f!receiving). Pregnant Reader. Fluffy smut - like the “I’m going to put my fingers in you and show you how loved you are” type of smut.

As the early autumn sun drifted through the apartment window, Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the couch, her back aching as she tried to settle in for what felt like the hundredth time.

At eight months pregnant, even sitting seemed like a trial. She sighed, letting her head fall back against the pillows, closing her eyes in mild frustration.

Bucky noticed instantly. “You okay, Doll?” His gentle voice came from the kitchen where he’d been cleaning up from breakfast. He was by her side in moments, his hand warm and steady on her shoulder. The tension in her body eased just a bit at his touch.

Y/N gave him a tired smile, half-lidded eyes meeting his. “I feel like a whale stuck on dry land,” she admitted with a laugh, rubbing at the side of her belly.

He chuckled softly, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “You’re not a whale,” he said, brushing his hand over her bump with a tenderness that still left her feeling fluttery. “But you do look like you could use a break. Or…some help, maybe?”

A smile spread across her lips. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she teased, though her hand drifted to rest on top of his, tracing her fingers over his knuckles.

Bucky smirked, squeezing her hand lightly. “Maybe I would,” he murmured, tone laced with playful intent. “Can’t help it if I love taking care of you, sweetheart.”

She felt her heart swell, a pleasant warmth blooming as his thumb traced gentle circles against her skin. “You spoil me,” she murmured, leaning into him.

“Someone’s gotta look after you, and I’m pretty happy it gets to be me,” he replied softly, slipping his arm behind her shoulders to help her lean into him. “Now, let’s take care of that ache of yours. It’s been bugging you for days.”

She let out a grateful sigh, her eyes fluttering shut as he began to knead gently at her shoulders. His touch was firm, strong, but never too much, and his thumb pressed into the sore spots just right. She could feel herself melting under his touch, tension dissipating as his hands worked their magic.

“Feels so good,” she whispered, barely able to keep her voice steady as he moved down her back, taking extra care to soothe every knot, every ounce of discomfort. Bucky’s hands moved with practiced ease, his voice gentle in her ear.

“I’d do anything for my best girl,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. His lips lingered there, and she could feel his smile against her hair. Slowly, he brought his hands around, trailing his touch down her arms, leaving her feeling light and floaty.

She could feel his gaze soften as he looked down at her, his eyes roaming over her, that sweet, adoring look that never failed to make her heart skip a beat. He seemed to hesitate a moment, then he spoke, his voice low. “There’s…something else I can do for you. If you’d like.”

A mischievous glint danced in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Oh? What are you offering, Sergeant Barnes?”

He chuckled, leaning in close, the scent of his cologne washing over her. “You tell me what you need,” he whispered, his tone warm and suggestive, his lips grazing the curve of her ear. “And I’m all yours, Doll.”

With a little shift, she moved to pull him closer, her hand slipping up to trace the back of his neck, fingers grazing his skin. “Well, maybe there is something…” she murmured, trailing off, lips barely an inch from his.

He took her face in his hands, eyes flickering with warmth and just a hint of mischief. “Anything, Kitten,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

In one gentle motion, he pulled her closer, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was soft and patient, but simmering with a warmth that left her breathless. The rest of the world faded away, and she melted into him, feeling all the weight of her worries slip away.

The two of them paused, Bucky’s lips lingering close to hers, a soft smile on his face as his voice dropped to a murmur. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

Y/N nodded, a shiver of anticipation running through her body. "Please," she whispered against his lips.

Bucky's smile widened, his eyes darkening with desire. He kissed her again, deeper this time, his tongue teasing along the seam of her lips. She opened for him eagerly, sighing into his mouth as his hands began to roam, caressing her sides and the swell of her belly with reverence.

"So beautiful," he murmured, trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck. "My gorgeous girl."

Y/N tilted her head, giving Bucky better access as he lavished attention on her neck. His metal hand slid under her shirt, cool against her heated skin. She shivered at the contrast, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"That feel good, doll?" Bucky murmured against her skin, his breath hot on her neck.

"Yes," she breathed, her fingers threading through his hair. "Don't stop."

He chuckled low in his throat, the sound sending tingles down her spine. "Wouldn't dream of it, Kitten."

With gentle movements, mindful of her pregnant belly, Bucky helped Y/N lie back on the couch. He hovered over her, his eyes roaming her body with undisguised desire. Slowly, he pushed her shirt up, revealing her swollen stomach.

Bucky's eyes softened as he gazed at her belly, his flesh hand caressing the taut skin reverently. "You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss just above her navel. "Carrying our child."

Y/N's breath hitched as his lips trailed lower, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses across her sensitive skin. Her fingers tightened in his hair as he reached the waistband of her shorts, his metal hand coming up to hook into the elastic.

"May I?" he asked, looking up at her with dark eyes.

She nodded, lifting her hips to help as he slowly slid the shorts down her legs. Bucky's hands caressed her thighs as he settled between them, his breath warm against her center.

"So perfect," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh.

Y/N shivered at the sensation of Bucky's lips on her sensitive skin. He took his time, kissing and nipping gently along her inner thighs, building the anticipation. His metal hand slid up to cup her breast through her shirt, thumb brushing over her hardened nipple.

"Bucky," she breathed, arching into his touch. "Please…"

He looked up at her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Please what, doll? Tell me what you want."

"Your mouth," she whimpered, hips shifting restlessly. "I need your mouth on me."

Bucky's eyes darkened further at her words. "As you wish," he murmured, before finally leaning in to taste her.

Y/N gasped as his tongue flattened against her, licking a long stripe up her center. Her fingers tightened in Bucky's hair as he began to explore her folds with his tongue, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Her legs trembled as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Bucky groaned against her, the vibrations adding to her mounting pleasure. His flesh hand gripped her thigh, keeping her spread open for him as he devoured her with enthusiasm. His metal hand continued to knead her breast gently, rolling her nipple between his fingers.

"Oh god, Bucky," Y/N moaned, her head falling back against the pillows. Her hips rocked against his face, chasing the building tension coiling low in her belly.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured against her, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through her body.

Y/N moaned softly as Bucky focused his attention on her sensitive bud, circling it with his tongue before sucking gently. Her hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction. Bucky's metal arm draped over her hips, holding her steady as he continued his ministrations.

"That's it, doll," he encouraged between licks. "Let go for me. I've got you."

Y/N felt herself getting close, the tension building low in her belly as Bucky worked her with his skilled tongue. Her fingers tightened in his hair, holding him against her as she chased her release.

"Bucky, I'm… I'm so close," she panted, her back arching slightly off the couch.

He hummed in acknowledgment, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through her. His flesh hand came up to gently massage her swollen breast, careful not to apply too much pressure to her sensitive nipples.

The sensation of his mouth on her aching center and his hand on her breast pushed Y/N over the edge. She cried out softly as her orgasm washed over her, her thighs trembling around Bucky's head. He continued to lap at her gently, working her through the aftershocks until she tugged lightly at his hair in overstimulation, signaling him to stop.

Bucky placed one last soft kiss on her inner thigh before moving back up her body, his eyes filled with warmth and adoration. He cupped her face gently, brushing his thumb over her flushed cheek.

"You're so beautiful when you come for me," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her softly. Y/N could taste herself on his lips, and she hummed contentedly into the kiss.

When they parted, she looked up at him with a lazy smile. "That was amazing," she sighed, her hand coming to rest on her belly.

Bucky smiled tenderly, placing his hand over hers on her rounded belly. "Glad I could help, doll," he murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "How are you feeling now?"

Y/N sighed contentedly, her body relaxed and pliant beneath his. "Much better," she admitted with a sleepy smile. "Though now I might just fall asleep right here."

Chuckling softly, Bucky brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. "As tempting as that sounds, I think our bed might be more comfortable." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, "Plus, I'm not quite done taking care of you yet."

A shiver of anticipation ran through Y/N at his words. "Oh?" she breathed, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "What else do you have planned, Serge?”

——————————————————————————————————

Ugh, don’t we just love soft Bucky? 😩

Requests Open!

[lilacxquartz]

on display;

suguru geto x reader x satoru gojo

plot: satoru wanted to face time while he was gone, catching you at an awkward time, or was it a good time? — plot: poly dynamics, lap grinding, smut, phone sex/video sex, f!reader — w.c: 900ish

masterlist • ao3 • more smut

Satoru was lately often busy; always needed for missions assigned by the higher-ups who claimed that there was nobody better for the job other than him and him alone. Such inconveniently timed hiccups often left both you and Suguru together all alone—which wasn’t too bad, not at all in fact, but you both missed your frosty ray of sunshine.

Missing the connecting piece to your romantic trio often made both you and Suguru lonely, pushing the two of you to seek out physical affection from each other to numb the ache. He’d often pull you close to him, demanding that you would idly spend time together tethered at the hip or sometimes… find himself in you.

You ground into Suguru’s lap for another night, the soft rolling motions circling languidly over his already erect length that strained tight against his cotton sweatpants. His big, calloused hands hovered parallel to your hips, fiercely smacking the skin of your thighs, casting a ripple within the pillowy flesh.

“Think y’can ride me?” he softly whispered into your neck, his long, silky black hair falling forward as he leaned into you. His voice sounded needy, maybe even desperate to an extent.

You hummed and nodded against his pressed form, letting him guide you up so that you hovered over his unsheathed cock that sprang out the second that he pulled his clothes down. You wiggled down in a teasing zigzag motion, just about ready to flick your hips forward but then you heard it.

That familiar jingle.

Suguru extended his hand to dig through the fabric of your jean pockets that were tossed off somewhere along the side, fishing out your mobile phone as soon as he was able to grab hold of it. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw the caller ID, biting his lip. “Hey, it’s Satoru. Bad time, but maybe worth taking?”

Pausing for just a moment, you took hold of your phone and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, leaning forward while quickly fixing up your hair—just a little bit. You then smiled as you picked up the call, allowing him to tune in. “Aw, hey, Satoru! How are you doing?” you asked in your usual sweet voice.

“I’m so tired like you wouldn’t believe,” he replied, sagging his shoulders into what looked like a hotel armchair. “I have been on my feel all damn day.”

“Yeah?” you replied, mirroring his pout, “they’ve been working you to the ground again?”

Satoru peeled up his blindfold, revealing his weary complexion. Deep blue and purple bags circled beneath his eyes. “You could say that again.”

He was about to say something again but then paused. His exhaustion gave way to quickly building curiosity as he took in the sight of just how… disheveled you looked—as well as the odd position you were in. With a slight raise of one of his eyebrows, he brought the phone closer as though to inspect the situation at hand.

“Are you two about to fuck?” he correctly guessed.

Immediately, you pointed the camera up to the ceiling to hide your laughter, still feeling Suguru’s cock filling out your pussy. Suguru betrayed a soft groan as you tightened around him from such convulsions, but then followed through with some laughter as well. “That obvious, huh?” you giggled, “yeah, yeah, we’re about to—”

“—I miss you both, you know,” Satoru cut you off, his voice adopting a more sultry tone. “I don’t suppose that one of you would be interested in giving me a show? It would help me unwind, you know. Maybe even relax…”

Not needing to be asked twice, Suguru pinched the phone from your grasp and then hovered the device over at a tilt that pointed at a nice, compromising overhead angle. He then mumbled something underneath his breath into your ear, smacking his free hand against the soft contours of your ass, as though to signal for you to pick up where you left off.

You, in turn, got to work right away. You ground and swivelled your hips at a hypnotic tempo, that managed to silence the two men as they watched you work your magic. Suguru couldn’t help but drive himself further into your body, thrusting in perfect rhythm with your fluid motions, letting soft grunts escape his lips as he rutted up towards your hilt. You held on tight—flinging your head forward and shuddering out breathy moans, feeling yourself—losing yourself to the blissful sensation.

Pulling back ever so slightly, you turned his chin over to face yours and pressed a heated kiss against his lips. You invaded his mouth with your tongue with loving passion, while he, too, reciprocated such passing fervour. As this happened, his phone-wielding hand drifted and panned you both out of focus, but Satoru was quick to clear his throat, reminding you both that he was still there. He tried to keep up to his best ability on the other side of the screen, after all. His shoulder slightly trembling and wiggling, hinting that he was stroking himself to the sight on display.

Suguru’s form however soon grew sloppier and you had to take over as the camerawoman, holding the phone at the best angle you could provide. With a stifling, ending thrust, Suguru then grunted in a strained voice before at last coming undone and emptying himself into the confines of your cunt. In doing so, you nearly dropped the phone as you too, finished up, hearing Satoru’s shuddering gasps follow suit as he finally caught up to the two of you.

And after a moment of mutually shared silence, the two of you were just about comfortable enough to all lay in silence and do absolutely nothing at all—all the while Satoru recollected himself with the sight of the two people that he was completely and utterly in love with—frustratingly impossibly far from reach, missing you both extremely so.

[scribbling-dragon]

Roll of the Dice

Summary:

“So, you know the current wildcard, all the fun with growing and shrinking.” “I wouldn’t call it fun, but yeah. Kinda hard to escape from right now.” “Yeah, yeah, well, um. I maybe – might have…gotten myself stuck?” “Gotten yourself stuck?” Tango blinks. “You mean you're stuck like this?"

(ao3 link)

(4,945 words)

Tango's not sure how to feel right now.

He had thought the previous time would be the last time; with the secrets and the tasks and the sneaking around. With Scar. He’d thought whatever higher beings continue to derive a sick sense of satisfaction from watching them scramble around, in pain and hurting, and hurting others, would have finally been satiated, fully satisfied with whatever twisted thing they got out of pulling them away from their own worlds and shoving them into this one.

Apparently not, because Tango finds himself here all over again. Scrambling for resources, feeling as though he’s no more dignified than a rat in a cellar, competing with his servermates to grab the best scraps before they're all gone. He’d gotten too used to the comforts of his everyday life, that’s for certain. The wind bites at him through his thin top, and the watery sunlight does little to dispel the chill that has long-since settled into his bones.

He moves on. Mainly because there's not really anything else for him to do. To stand still for too long would mean falling behind in this rat race that has them all running full-pelt towards bloodshed. Still, such violence is a while away still, and the night waits for no-one; he’d rather be prepared for when dusk does descend, rather than stuck out in the cold with nowhere to go and cowering with his tail between his legs.

Bdubs and Etho are just a little behind him, closer to the edge of the woods. Tango treks deeper, enjoying the short respite from the pair’s back-and-forth style of bickering (flirting, a part of him corrects, this is some kind of weird romance thing for the two of them. How they can find any kind of time for something softer in the midst of these glorified wargames, Tango will never know), even relishing in the soft sound of birdsong.

He’s learned to take the small things as they come; the birdsong will soon disappear, replaced by the wailing of the wind and the creaking of decayed branches.

He’s settled comfortably at his usual height, his perfectly average height, able to comfortably fit beneath the trees. His head doesn’t even brush against the leaves, leaving him nice and free to move through the forest unimpeded.

The…wildcards don't have him as easily swayed as some of his servermates are. They all seem to have taken to the new system with a kind of reckless abandon that Tango can't find it in himself to share.

It all seems far too suspect – there is no twist to this, at least not yet, nothing to twist them or turn them against each other. If anything, this has brought them all closer together, sharing information freely without any worries. Tango's not sure how long that’ll last before everyone starts hoarding information as something precious, something to be kept close to one’s own chest.

And Grian…well, the less said about how odd he’s acting the better, really.

Tango's discomfort is a little personal too. Too tall, and he can't cower in his usual corner and let the mobs rush past him, his usual nooks and crannies too small for him to hide himself within. Too tall, and he's looking down to make eye contact with his friends rather than up. Too large, and his soul feels as though it has been set adrift from his own body.

Too small, and he’s running underfoot with everything far too large and threatening around him. One misstep from his friends during an absent moment could spell his doom! His items are larger than his own body, and he’s left clutching something so ridiculously oversized that he has no hopes of ever using it.

Call him Goldilocks, but his own body feels just right.

His axe fits comfortably in his regular-sized hand, and his soul comfortably in his regular-sized body. Feeling it shrink around him is nothing short of unnerving; the way his flesh constricts around his insides before they too get with the program and change shape too. The way his heart is a little too big for his chest for a heartbeat and a half too long, threatening to burst free of the prison that his ribcage forms.

He stops at a random tree, considering it for a moment. The eyespots of the birch tree stare back at him, mocking with their emptiness; taunting. It seems to beckon him in, with its bare, leafless branches acting like knobbed fingers that creak and groan with the effort of bending.

He embeds the axe with a snarl, feeling the reverberations of the swing echo up his arm. The thunk of a blade into the wood-flesh of the tree is almost the same as the impact of a blade into blood-flesh. The only difference is the sound of splinters that follows afterwards, the crackling of the wood as it continues to split open.

The motion takes only a little of his pent-up stress with it. He can feel where his fingers tremble against the wooden handle; how his claws flex and dig into the soft wood. He knows that if he looked, there would be deep grooves carved into the handle.

For a long moment, there is no sound but that of the blood rushing in his ears and the ba-dump ba-dump of his heart.

He huffs, and steam escapes his mouth with the sound. The taste of ash is strong on the back of his tongue, coating the inside of his throat. He bites back another snarl, swallowing it down with the acrid stench of smoke and brimstone.

Sound rushes back in all at once. The silence of the forest, now devoid of birdsong. The clattering of empty branches against one another as the wind rushes past. The creaking of the tree in front of him as it leans, and leans…and continues to lean.

It crashes with a resounding thud that chases the last of the remaining birds from their nests.

He turns away from the still-shivering branches of the tree, turning towards the next one that he can bury his axe into. The frustration flares up within him once more as he hefts his axe, turning from barely cool magma to something that spits and surges forwards in a rushing tide of heat and anger.

Just as quickly as it arrives, the anger evaporates, leaving him worn out and cold in its wake.

He huffs out another breath, this one warm and sparking. He stamps out the few that seem to promise growth and destruction, crushing them underfoot before they can even eat away at the grass there.

A semi-circle of toppled trees surrounds him; each of them stares back at him with those cursed eyespots as he turns to take stock of the damage. He sneers at one particularly smug-looking tree before feeling immensely stupid, and grateful that no-one else was around to witness his little fit.

“You feeling better there?” As though summoned by the very thought, a voice pipes up behind him.

He spins on the spot, feeling his just-settled anger flaring again, stoked by whoever’s decided to come and peer at the destruction he’s caused. He deflates a little when there’s no-one stood just behind him; the intact trees stare at him judgementally. He’s just about to take an axe to them when his observer speaks up again.

“Up here, Tango.” A small flash of bright yellow follows the words, and Tango looks up into the branches of the tree that he had been primed to destroy.

“Jimmy?” He breathes out, deflating all the way at the sight of Jimmy perched on the very edge of a branch. He's a little too far away, and too small, for Tango to properly make out his face, but he can see enough to notice the uneasy looks Jimmy is giving him and his axe. “How long have you been there?” He consciously relaxes his grip on the axe.

“Since the first tree,” Jimmy continues to watch him carefully. “So, are you feeling better or should I pick a different tree to sit in?”

“Yeah, I'm- I'm feeling better,” Tango says, and it doesn’t even feel like a lie. A win for him. “It’s just,” he gestures around helplessly, unsure how else to explain the crushing knowledge of an impending doom that is coming for you and all of your friends, and that there’s nothing any of you can do about it. “All of this. Gets me a little on edge. Always does.”

“Hah. Doesn’t it just.” Jimmy peers down from his branch, and Tango takes a step closer so he can really take in the entirety of Jimmy's face. It’s been an age since Tango saw him last, and he found himself missing the canary sorely.

“So,” Tango looks around. None of Jimmy's allies appear to be nearby; if they are, they're doing a pretty incredible job of hiding themselves, which he highly doubts either Lizzie or Scar are capable of. “What brings you round here?”

“Oh, you know,” Jimmy shrugs, the movement so stiff that a wooden puppet would have looked more natural doing it. “Just hanging around, checking out the sights.”

“Checking out the sights.” Tango repeats, disbelief colouring his tone. Jimmy continues to avoid his eyes, looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “Okay, yeah, what’s the issue. You stuck up there? Need a hand down?”

“I- no!” Jimmy squawks. “I am perfectly capable of getting down from here myself!”

“Then why don't you? I’ve cleared a big enough landing area for you.” Silence echoes for a few moments, and Tango swears he can feel the disapproval from the trees that he cut down for that one. “C’mon,” he coaxes, when Jimmy makes no move to descend, “don't you wanna come talk to me? Haven’t you missed me too, birdie?”

“I'm perfectly fine up here.”

“Uh-huh,” Tango nods along slowly. “Okay then. When that changes, you let me know, all right? Until then, I’ll be over here. Chopping some logs.”

He turns around and makes it all the way to the first of the trees he cut down before Jimmy makes a noise of protest. Tango's ears twitch at the sound, but no words follow behind it. He mentally cuts the tree trunk into chunks in his head, one eye squinting shut as he does the divisions in his head. He should be able to carry most of the logs back to their temporary base in a few trips, and he might even be able to get Bdubs or Etho to help him out if he asks them enough times.

“Tango.”

“Hm?” He turns away from the tree he was preparing to butcher.

“I might need a little bit of help.” It sounds like it physically pains Jimmy to admit that.

“Really?” He steps closer to the tree that Jimmy's in. “What d’you need my help with?”

“Promise not to laugh.”

“I swear.” Tango says. Jimmy still looks uncertain. “Hey, c’mon, you know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, right? You're still my rancher, even now.”

“Aw, Tango.” Jimmy's grinning down at him now, and Tango finds himself grinning back. It’s embarrassingly easy to relax like this around Jimmy. To pretend that they're not just days away from being at each other’s throats. Jimmy's face falls as the moment drags on, smile faltering until disappears completely. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I've already said I won’t.”

“Yeah, you have,” Jimmy sits down on the branch, legs swinging over the edge. Tango rocks up onto his tip-toes in order to be a little closer to where Jimmy now perches. “So, you know the current wildcard, all the fun with growing and shrinking.”

“I wouldn’t call it fun, but yeah. Kinda hard to escape from right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, well, um. I maybe – might have…gotten myself stuck?”

“Gotten yourself stuck?” Tango blinks. “You mean you're stuck like this? That small?”

Something harsh and complicated tangles itself in his chest, feeling like a lump in the base of his throat; it’s mostly stress, because despite Jimmy not being his teammate for this go-around, he still cares about him and really doesn’t want to see him crushed to death or some equally gruesome fate that a taller person could avoid easily.

Before he even processes what he's doing, he’s reaching up towards the branch with both hands, scooping Jimmy into the palm of his hands and bringing him down from his high up perch, too far above Tango's head for him to properly see and process whatever expressions Jimmy's making.

“Hey!” Jimmy swats at his hands, short feathers bristling in offence as Tango cups his hands a little closer around Jimmy, tucking him in nice and safely. He's small enough to fit into just one of Tango's hands (which is terrifying and something that he's trying desperately not to think of too much), but he uses two so there's no chance of Jimmy falling, or jumping, and hitting the ground and breaking all the bones in his body in the process. “You didn’t have to grab me.”

“Well, I did. What were you going to do, fly down? Your wings are hardly going to save you if you leap from that height,” he nudges at the stubby wings, smiling at the way they bristle even more at the insult, the soft feathers tickling at the ends of his claws. “You need a few days for the feathers to finish growing in, then maybe I’d trust them to hold your weight.”

“I would’ve been fine,” Jimmy grumbles. “I wasn’t going around throwing myself out of trees for fun.”

“So you were just going to stay there all night?” Tango asks. “Or maybe until this wildcard rotates out and a new, potentially more dangerous, wildcard rotates in? What exactly was your plan here?” And maybe it’s the anxiety of it all – the upcoming bloodshed, the current state of everything, the gimmicks his friends are enjoying despite the fact that they’ve been thrown in for another round of wargames hosted by who-even-knows-what, Jimmy apparently being stuck like this in an already dangerous world – but his voice is a little harsher than he means for it to be, sparks spitting from his tongue as he speaks.

“Oh, yeah, like you had a better plan.” Jimmy stands up, the sensation of feet against Tango's palm only strange for a moment before he's focusing on the way Jimmy's face is screwed up, wings half-mantled behind him, shoulders a line of tension as he snaps right back at him.

“I do, actually,” he takes a short, calming breath. Opens his eyes again. “You stay with me, I make sure no-one steps on you, and then we go and find Grian to see if he can fix this.”

“And why would Grian be able to fix this?”

“Don't play coy with me.” Tango only pauses to pick his axe up – no need to arm whatever zombie wanders through here just because he has some more important things to be dealing with – before continuing out of the new clearing and back in the direction that he thinks his base is. “You know just as well as I do that Grian is far more in control here than he’d like us to think.”

“He’s not the one sending us here.” Jimmy says, oddly defensive.

“I know he isn’t.” Tango ducks beneath a branch, snickering as Jimmy copies the motion despite being far too short to even reach the branch right now. “Doesn’t mean he's not acting even odder than he usually does. If you try and tell me you haven’t noticed how he goes all spacey just before major happens I'm not afraid of calling you a liar.”

Jimmy grumbles for a moment, but he continues to lean against Tango's thumb while he does so. “Fine.” He eventually says, voice stiff, “Sure, Grian knows too much here. We all know this.”

“Not everyone. I think Lizzie’s still oblivious. And Gem. The newer ones.”

“Lizzie’s been here since the second game.”

“And then not for several afterwards. She missed a lot in that time. So unless someone’s clued her in she’s still not got a clue about Grian. Not yet at least. With the way he's acting for this game I wouldn’t be surprised if they both figure it out within the week.”

“Still doesn’t mean I want to go speak with him.”

“Tough. You can't run around like this until the wildcard’s swapped out or the issue manages to resolve itself just to preserve your pride from whatever pseudo-brother relationship the two of you have. We don't know how long these events are meant to last. Hell, this might be a glitch that starts taking everyone out, but if you don't say anything others might get stuck in the same situation and die because of it. How would you feel then?”

“Less like the punching bag of the server.”

Tango gives him a sympathetic look at that. It’s no secret that Jimmy is unusually unlucky in these games, and with their mysterious hosts not revealing themselves, he wouldn’t be surprised to find that they're pulling more than a few strings behind the scenes.

“Look, you can't just tough this one out, okay? There’s just…something not right about this gimmick. I just- agh, I don't know how to describe it. It’s just not right.”

When he looks down, Jimmy's looking at him with rounded eyes. The faint bit of sunlight left illuminates them, and the worry hidden there. Tango swallows back the rest of what he was going to say, looking ahead at the treeline. “It’ll be fine. I'm sure Grian will be able to fix this and then we don't need to worry about it.”

=== === ===

“Hmm.” Grian does another circle around Jimmy, both of them stood on the smooth stone floor of the Sub-One Club. Tango thinks it’s a stupid name, and a similarly stupid base. He sits, hunched over because the space isn’t even tall enough for him to sit upright, and watches the proceedings.

Grian hums again, tapping a finger against his chin as he continues to stare at Jimmy in the same way that he has been for the past five minutes. Mumbo and Skizz continue to watch from the sidelines, on the opposite side of the room to Tango so they don't “catch his tallness” whatever the hell that might mean.

They’d attempted to convince him to shrink down to fit into their base, but he’d refused adamantly, until they’d all been forced to give in, and he was forced to drag himself through the tiny hole that formed the entrance to their equally tiny base.

“So, good news and bad news.” Grian claps his hands together, leaning towards Jimmy as he grins. “Which do you want first.”

“Uh, the bad news?”

“You're stuck like that, at least until the wildcard rotates out and a new one comes in. But!” He continues on without even giving Jimmy a moment to express his emotions, steamrolling over the bristling feathers and outraged expression. “Good news: you can still join the Sub-One Club if you want to!”

“Absolutely not.” Jimmy crosses his arms. “I already have a team, and one with a better name than sub-one.”

Grian gasps. “Out.” He points at the door. “I won’t stand for the slander of the Sub-One Club in the Sub-One Base.”

“Fine.” Jimmy turns around, marching right past Tango and out the door easily. “Your base is stupid anyway!” His voice echoes back through the small tunnel. Tango awkwardly fidgets with his hands, watching as Grian’s wings puff up and he takes a sharp step towards the door.

His head jerks over towards Tango a second later. “You're also banned.” He points at the door. “Follow your boyfriend out into the darkness.”

“For the record,” he backs into the tunnel so he’s still facing the three bug-sized occupants of the uncomfortably small base. “I also think your name is stupid. And your base. Would it have killed you to make it a little bigger?”

“We made it this small so people like you couldn’t get in.” Grian sniffs, then turns his back on him.

Fine by Tango, he's just looking forward to escaping this hellhole, breathing in a breath of fresh air thankfully, turning his face towards the sky. It’s long turned to night, but he’s still grateful to see the moon and stars compared to the stone roof of their dumb base.

There’s a tug on his belt, and then his shirt, and then Jimmy's perching himself on Tango's shoulder, right beside his ear.

“A little warning would have been appreciated,” he grumbles, but he cups a hand around where Jimmy balances as he stands, waiting for a moment as Jimmy resettles himself before turning to walk back towards his base.

“I was worried you would step on me.”

“I wouldn’t step on you!”

“How was I meant to know that? Plus, it’s dark, how am I meant to know if you can see me?”

“I can see in the dark, you know this.”

“Well, the rest of us can't. What if the thing that I thought was you was actually a zombie and then it just ate me. What then, huh?”

“Then I’d call you stupid and save you.”

“Oh, how romantic.” Jimmy huffs out a laugh. “Can you hear that right now? The sound of a hundred people swooning at the sheer romanticism of that moment right there.”

“All I can hear is your panicked breathing. You sure you're steady up there? I can carry you if you're not feeling safe.”

“I'm fine.” Jimmy pauses. “Can you glow? You know, light everything up a little bit with your fancy netherborn powers so the rest of us non-night vision people can see?”

“I'm not a glowstick.” He huffs. “And I also don't feel like being a homing beacon for every creature with eyes out here.”

“Just a little bit?” Jimmy continues, voice taking on a slight pleading edge. With the way he's sat on Tango's shoulder, he can feel the exact moment that Jimmy starts to lean over. The sensation of a hand on the back of his neck is still a little shocking, and he has to consciously resist leaning his head in Jimmy's direction in case he crushes him.

“Fine, sure.” His tail glows a little brighter, the flame in it stoked a little higher than he would usually let it get during the night. “If I get bitten by a zombie I'm blaming you.”

=== === ===

“This is a little sad.” Jimmy peers around the temporary base that Tango is currently calling home. It’s not…entirely inaccurate, with it missing a roof and all, but Tango feels the instinctive need to defend his home from insult.

“You don't even have a house. You're just sleeping on beds under the stars. What’re you gonna do if it rains, huh?”

“I just thought there’d be a slightly higher standard of living when you have Bdubs to build for you.”

“Depends if Bdubs can stop provoking Etho for long enough that either of them can be productive.” He shudders a little at the memory. Not for the first time he wonders what, exactly, he's gotten himself into with teaming up with those two and no-one else to act as a buffer or to share equally pained, commiserating looks whenever the two of them start flirting.

“Huh.” Jimmy looks up at the sky above. “Well, won’t feel too different from home with the stars like this above me.”

“Hm.” He holds a hand out for Jimmy to step onto rather than just picking him up from his shoulder (something that would be rude, and would also get a similarly bad reaction to the last time Tango picked him up). Jimmy steps onto his hand after a moment’s deliberation, and Tango transfers him from there to the small slab of wood that he’s using as a bedside table.

He sets his glasses down beside him a moment later.

“What are you doing?” Jimmy asks.

“Going to sleep.” He pulls his shirt off. “What does it look like to you?”

“Tango!” He turns around, expecting another spider jockey, or maybe just a spider, climbing over the wall. Instead, he’s met with Jimmy trying to shield his eyes like some kind of fair maiden from a shitty romance novel.

“Don't you start with me,” he warns. “We literally shared a bed for a month. And a house.”

“You could have given me a little warning.” Jimmy lowers his hand, though he continues to not look at Tango. Fine, he can suit himself. Tango gives a half-hearted tug at the bedsheets before all but falling into it. His shoulders are beginning to burn from the number of trees he chopped today, and he knows for sure that he’s going to be feeling it even worse tomorrow.

“And where am I sleeping?” Jimmy's voice interrupts his misery, and he turns his head to the side so he can squint at the man.

“Wherever you want. Hell, sleep on Bdubs’ bed for all I care.” He turns his face back into the pillow. Maybe smothering himself will help him get to sleep quicker.

=== === ===

Tango wakes to the sound of bickering and the feeling of feathers in his mouth.

He opens his eyes, only to immediately hiss at the bright sunlight that assaults his eyes, throwing an arm over his face.

“Oh, good, he's awake. Look, we can ask our teammate now!” Bdubs voice grows closer as he speaks, before a hand is holding his arm and prying it away from his eyes, no matter how hard he tries to keep it in place. It’s too early for any of this shit, and he’d much rather roll over and go back to sleep than answer whatever questions Bdubs has for him.

But Bdubs is stronger than he looks, so Tango's arm remains away from his eyes, and he's instead left staring blankly at Bdubs’ grinning face.

“What.”

“We just had a question for you, Etho and I, we were wondering why you brought Jimmy back to our base last night?”

“Huh?”

“Did you think if he was smaller that we wouldn’t notice he was here?”

Well, that explains the feathers in his mouth. Jimmy's feathers get everywhere, no matter how much effort is put into making sure that they don't. He blinks a few times, slow as he processes the information.

“Jimmy wanted to come here,” he says. It’s a lie, and he's not actually sure why he says it. But he's said it now and there's no taking it back.

“And you just listened to him? If Jimmy asked you to give him all of our diamonds, would you?”

“Don't be stupid.” Bdubs continues to stare at him. “No, I would not give Jimmy all of our diamonds, even if he asked nicely.”

“Hmph.” Bdubs releases his arm. Tango immediately replaces it over his face. “The two of you are utterly scandalous! Wait until the rest of the server hears about you cuddling, shirtless, in a communal base area.”

“Nothing wrong with two men cuddling each other all night,” Etho decides to add. “Perfectly normal.”

“Ugh, g’way.” He shoves out in the direction that he thinks Etho is stood. He misses, only succeeding in banging his elbow on the edge of his bedframe. He retreats back into his blankets with a soft hiss.

“Sure, sure, we’ll go to the other side of our base to have breakfast. You two can join us when you feel like it.” Etho sounds like he’s stifling a laugh – he always does, actually, but he sounds about ready to choke on his laugh right now.

Tango lies there for another ten minutes, listening to the quiet, easy back and forth that Etho and Bdubs have.

“Are they always like that?” Jimmy murmurs into his ear, the first sign of him even being alive, let alone conscious. Tango does his best not to jump and dislodge Jimmy from where he's lying.

“Yes.” He groans out, not even caring if the two of them hear. If he whispers, they’ll just be more curious about what he's saying. Besides, he doubts either of them can hear him talking, with the way they're all wrapped up in their little domestic morning. “I’ve just been third wheeling them the entire time we've been here.”

“So you brought me into it?” Jimmy squawks. “You chose your teammates, suffer their lovey-dovey looks yourself.”

“Oh, but Jimmy, don't you want to be equally domestic? Do you not long for a nice morning where we can sit and stare into each other’s eyes and trade compliments the whole time?”

“No.” Tango can feel the shudder that travels through Jimmy at the thought. “Are we that bad? Were we that bad when we started dating?”

“I don't think they're dating.” He pauses. “Not right now at least.”

Jimmy pauses, going absolutely still. “They have to be, right?” Tango doesn’t say anything. “Right?”

“You'd think,” he sighs. “But those two are something entirely unique. I think they're the first people ever to do it quite like them.”

“There’s something wrong with them,” Jimmy breathes. He sounds a little horrified, but also intrigued. Tango gets the sense that he's actually watching them bicker rather than just listening to it.

“Isn't there just. You sticking around to watch how sickening they are with complimenting each other’s work?”

“Ugh, yeah, I guess. Not much else I can do until this wears off.”

“That’s the spirit.”

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 14 - Save Me

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 7.2k words. Let's save Piper! Go team!

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, torture, descriptions of torture, descriptions of wounds, death, use of weapons, HORRIBLE military inaccuracies, dissociation, blood, medical inaccuracies, panic attacks, talks of death, Mr Jonathan “I can justify my actions” Price, bombs, angst, all hurt no comfort, fuckin’ Graves and his shadows are everywhere like a cancer.

AN: Name a chapter the omega hasn't cried in... I'll wait.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy!

Dr. Piper opens her eyes properly for what feels like the first time in hours. She’s alone in the room, though the camera is still set up. She looks down at her arm. He’s still bleeding her; she’s being killed by her own invention, a repurposed dialysis machine built to keep just enough blood out of her body so she can’t heal her wounds. Fitting really. 

She feels weak and her head is swimming. He can’t keep her hooked up to this much longer or it will kill her. Maybe that’s his plan? She wishes he would just shoot her, at least that way it would be quick. She wouldn’t be so lucky though. He needs to keep her alive. 

She looks around the room. The lights are harsh, bright white in her eyes. She remembers him recording the video, or at least him yanking her hair around. She can remember his demands too. It’s supposed to be a swap. It’s the worst case scenario. 

She made sure to put in the letter to John not to come and save her. She knew this was a death sentence, all to keep the omega safe. You are safe and you have your pack to protect you. It doesn’t matter what happens to her. She just wants to get this over with quickly. 

Hale gave them 48 hours. That means she’s going to have to suffer through this for at least another 2 days. The pain’s not too bad, when she doesn’t move. Her heart aches for you, though she knows you’re in the best possible place and with the best possible people. She hopes you’re on your way to the UK or wherever John thinks it's safe. 

She’s not religious but she’s praying to any God who’ll listen to keep you safe. 

The door to the room opens and Hale walks in. He’s changed clothes. There are no windows, no clock. She’s been unconscious too many times to try and keep track of what time it is or how long she’s been here. He puts a bottle of water down on the table, and it makes Piper's mouth go suddenly dry. She can’t remember the last time she had a drink. 

“No word yet,” Hale sighs. 

Piper looks up at him. Good. What is she supposed to say, ‘oh well, let's make another video.’  She doesn’t even want to look at him. 

“I guess you didn't really wait long before setting her up with an alpha,” he scoffs. She can hear the irritation in his voice. Yeah, she did it on purpose. Maybe John had figured it out, maybe not. She needed you to be in a pack to keep you safe. You needed to be claimed by an alpha, and she needed to make sure it was as difficult as possible for the Professor to get to you.

“Why bother with the contraceptive suppressants?” 

“A purebred is still pure, it doesn't matter who the alpha is,” he replies. 

She scoffs, shaking her head. 

“She would never have been able to carry to term. Her whole reproductive system is a mess,” she says, remembering what she saw on the ultrasound.

“I’m sure we would have been able to figure something out. You’re a good doctor,” he says, smiling. It makes her feel sick. She shakes her head, looking away. She’s a doctor first but she would never subject you to the surgeries he’s thinking about. 

“Do you remember the research we did on the betas? The one with the claiming?” Hale asks, picking up the water bottle and opening it. She nods at him. She learned how to do autopsies that week.  A smile grows on his face. It makes her angry—he shouldn’t be smiling. 

“We never quite figured it out did we?” he says, talking about their work like they’re old pals. He takes a sip out of the water then walks over to her. He brings the bottle up to her lips. She keeps her lips closed. She won’t take anything from him. 

“I don’t want you becoming dehydrated. You’re a doctor. Don’t be stupid,” he says. She looks up in his eyes, his dark, tired eyes. The eyes she used to see determination in.  She used to think he held the world in his hands, that the scientific marvels they would discover would change the world. Then you came along and his vision changed, and he became obsessed with creating the perfect omega. 

She wont accept anything from him again. 

He sighs, gripping her hair, yanking her head back. Her body tenses as he moves his hand to her jaw keeping her head in place as he forces the bottle past her lips. She doesn’t have time to clench her teeth as he forces the bottle in her mouth squeezing. 

She immediately chokes on it, water filling her mouth and nose, slipping down into her windpipe. He squeezes until the bottle is empty, most of the water being forced back out her mouth. She’s coughing and spluttering as she gasps for air. 

“I guess you learned to be stubborn from the omega,” he says, throwing the empty bottle on the floor. “I knew I should have never let you get close to her.” He sounds angry, his mood changing. His fuse is getting shorter. He’s getting impatient. 

“Why don’t you get it over with now then. You’re going to kill me anyway, there’s no swap,” she says between gasps, her throat raw. 

“I know that,” he says scoffing. “I expect the 141 to come here and try to save you. Then the omega will be left all alone in a base surrounded by people I pay.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’m not worth anything to them,” she says, her voice shaky. 

“Sure you are. You’re their key to a cure,” he laughs. She looks at him as he walks back over to the door.

“Besides, they’re soldiers. They like to think they're the good guys. Rescuing you or letting you die? Which do you think they’re picking?” he asks, laughing again as he opens the door. 

“And when they turn up and kill you? Then what?” she spits back at him. 

“Four of them against all the security I have here? I’m not worried. You should be though, because when I get the omega back, I’m still not sure if I want to keep you around. We never did test what happens when a bond is forcefully broken.” His voice is low, the smile still on his face as he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. 

She hangs her head. She was blindfolded when she was bought into the building. She has no idea what kind of system he has or how many people are here. She sighs letting fear rise in her. She knows he’s right. She knows they’re going to come. They are good people. They’re going to risk their lives to save hers. 

She doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t deserve the rescue. She hopes John will listen to her message and just flee. It’s the only way you’ll be safe. Hale can’t chase you forever, especially when you’re being protected by your pack. 

John’s hands are gripping the cup as he hears your wails. Simon and Kate are sat at the table, Kate looking through the intel she’s managed to find on Hale’s Seattle home. His head is spinning. You’re in pain, mental and physical. He can’t do anything about it other than try and get Dr. Montgomery back.

It’s risky. You’re not safe when they’re not around you. Based on what Kate has been able to dig up, the place is definitely going to be protected. He needs everyone for the mission to be successful, which means he’ll be leaving you alone with Kate. 

He sighs, taking another sip of his tea. It’s cold, but he doesn’t care. Simon looks over at him, then back down at his own mug. He’s struggling. They all are, and maybe it’s normal. You being upset must affect the pack's mood in some way. He wishes Dr. Montgomery was here to help, or at least to explain. 

Kyle comes out of John's room.

“Did she sleep through the night?” John asks. Kyle shakes his head. John sighs watching him going into the bathroom. 

He’s not sure how long Johnny has been with you. The sobbing seems to have died down, though. Kyle comes out of the bathroom going over to the kettle. There’s a heavy feeling in the air. They can’t talk about their plans here. Simon and Johnny searched the place but they couldn’t find anything. John still doesn’t trust it. 

Kyle is boiling the kettle when Johnny comes into the common room with you in his arms. John’s heart breaks when he sees your pale, bandaged figure pressed up against his chest. He walks over to the sofa placing you down. You’re murmuring something under your breath as he pulls the blanket over your shoulders.

“S’aright lass, let’s get you that cuppa.” 

Your murmuring stops as he says that, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

You look over at the table. You can see Kate and Simon's backs. Then there’s John sat at the head of the table. He looks over at you, and sadness bubbles up inside of you. You look away. The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening. Johnny comes back, placing the cup of tea on the coffee table in front of your face. 

You don’t want it but you can smell it.  Johnny always makes it extra sweet. Johnny kneels down next to your head stroking your hair. He lets out a sigh.

“You need to try and drink something,” he says. 

You blink at him. You're not thirsty. You don’t want anything. You look away from him at the mug of tea. Johnny sighs, getting up and going to the kitchen table. 

It’s just so much pain. You keep your eyes on the mug watching the steam swirl in the air. 

“When are we leaving?” Simon asks. They’re keeping their voices low. You don’t know if you want to know what's going on. You close your eyes and you’re back in your happy place. 

The house on the hill, the pies, the lake, the summer’s evening. 

You didn’t mean to fall asleep but you wake to John squeezing your shoulder. The mug of tea is still there. Your arm is numb. You force yourself to sit up. The moment you move John’s hands are on you helping you. You look round the room. It’s just John but you can see they’re getting ready to leave. Bags and weapons strewn everywhere.

“You’re leaving,” you say.

John sits next to you. 

“We’re going to get her back. We’re going to get her back and kill Hale,” he says, squeezing your thigh. You nod, trying to keep the relentless tears back. There’s a pain deep in your core, a throbbing in your body, something you’ve never felt before. It’s because your pack is going away. They’re going away to do something dangerous.

“Kate will stay with you.” His hand comes to your chin pulling your face to look at him. “You have to promise me if anything happens you will listen to her. You’ll follow her instructions. She’ll take care of you.” 

You nod, fear gripping you for a second. His expression softens. 

“Please save her,” you whisper, choking down the sob rising in your throat. He reaches over, pressing his lips onto yours. It's been a while since he kissed you. Even during your heat it doesn’t happen that much. You let yourself relax focusing only on the kiss, his soft lips, his warm tongue. You melt into it, letting him caress your tongue with his.

His hand runs up your back, firm and warm as it stops on your shoulder blades. You don’t want the kiss to end, you want to stay in this perfect moment forever with your alpha. He pulls away when your tears reach your lips. He looks at you sympathetically, thumb coming to brush the tears away. 

“Do you trust me?” he asks. You nod. “Good, then trust that we will bring her back. I promise.” He presses a kiss on your forehead and gets up. You lay back down pulling the blanket over you as silent tears run down your face. You watch as he leaves the building and Johnny and Kyle come in to collect the bags.

John walks over to Kate talking to Simon. They stop talking as he approaches. 

“Are you sure you want to do this John, she did say not to come after her,”  Kate says. 

“We’re going after Hale too,” he reminds her. Simon crosses his arms.

“You know what to do. As soon as Shepherd gives the order you take her and run,” John says. 

“The truck’s hidden 2 klicks south. Here are the keys,” Simon says, handing them to Kate.

“You’re sure no one knows about it?” she asks.

“No. If it’s gone, head to the rendezvous point anyway. We’ll find you,” John says. She puts the keys in her pocket, reaching into her back pocket bringing out a phone. 

“Keep it off until you need it, you know the drill,” she says, handing John the burner phone. He smiles at her. 

“Stay with her, and do not let anyone near her,” Price says. “Try and keep her calm, if she panics—” 

“She’ll distress, I know I’ve been reading Montgomery's USB. Go John, she’ll be fine,” Kate says, almost pushing him towards the car where Johnny and Kyle are waiting. 

“Here,” John reaches to his side, handing her a pistol. He trusts her. He knows she’ll keep you safe, but it doesn’t make it any easier. They know as soon as Graves gets the word they’re at Hale’s house, Shadow Company will be after them. 

John nods at Kate and heads over to the car. He looks over at the barracks one more time. He knows the likelihood of them going back there is low. He gets in the back, Gaz already taking the driver's seat. 

“Laswell will take good care of her,” Soap nudges him. He looks up in the rearview mirror. His eyes meet Gaz’s and he nods. The car drives off. 

He really hopes that he’s making the right choice. 

It’s raining. Of course it is. The rain seemed to start the moment they made it onto the motorway. The sky turned darker as they drove the hour-long trip. The ride had been mostly silent. Even Soap’s chipper attitude seemed mulled out. 

When they made it to the location, the sky was almost black. Price checked his watch. It was almost 5, and it would be getting darker soon. That’s good, they can use that to their advantage. They park down a dirt access road hidden from the main road. 

The road runs about a kilometer, and then it’s dense forest all the way up to his house. The place is guarded by Shadow Company. There should be 10 or so people, not including Hale and Montgomery. They all get out of the car, picking up their weapons, putting on the rest of their gear. 

Ghost swings his sniper over his shoulder, checking his watch. He looks over at Price who nods.

“Ghost, head east. There’s an abandoned outhouse at the end of the drive that should give you a good vantage point to set up.” Ghost nods heading off into the woods as John heads to the north, following the dirt path until it merges with the trees.

When they make it to the house, it’s bigger than Price thought it was going to be. Modern and brand new. How he can afford all this, Price will never understand. He must have a mansion in every state at this point. Dr. Montgomery was right, no matter where they went, Hale would chase them, and you would never be safe.

They all kneel down in the bushes to the side of the high wall. The whole place is surrounded by walls, the only opening being the front gate. 

“Remember, the moment we make our move we’re on a timer. We find Dr. Montgomery and Hale then we get out.” Price says over the radio. “How are we looking Ghost?” 

“Got two Shadows on the main gate. You’re clear to jump that wall.” 

Price nods at Gaz who gets in place to boost Soap over the wall. Price hears him land on the other side before taking his turn. He turns at the top of the wall reaching down to help Gaz over. 

They all land in bushes keeping their backs to the wall. 

“Need help dealing with the Shadows?” Price asks.

“Negative. Side entrance looks clear,” Ghost says. 

“Copy,” Price says and they start to move over to the side door. At least the rain has slowed. Soap tests the handle and it’s open. Price nods and they go in. There are some lights on. They move in silence as they make their way through the rooms. The place is almost barren of any furniture, and what is placed around the massive rooms is covered with plastic sheets. 

“Think he’s renovating?” Soap whispers behind Price who shushes him as they reach a closed door. There is light coming through it. Gaz toes the door open an inch and Price can hear voices, at least 2 people, but he can’t see anything through the crack. He looks round at them both before nodding and putting his hand on the door.   

He pushes on the door as Soap and Gaz rush into the room. Two shots, two people down. They keep walking down the corridor. This place is like a maze and they haven’t even been upstairs yet. Price takes the lead as they continue through the rooms. 

It’s corridor after corridor, temporary walls and scaffolding all over the place. The smell of fresh paint is strong in the air. They make it through to a larger room. The whole place looks like it’s being fitted like a lab. It reminds Price of his old chemistry classroom back in school. He’s building a new lab. 

That's why they’ve been helping Shepherd track down ex-colleagues.

Price continues to lead through the rest of the ground floor, and they take out 3 more Shadows. Plus the 2 when they entered and the 2 on the gate Ghost took care of, there shouldn’t be many left. No sign of the Professor though. The corridors lead back around to the lab. They haven’t been upstairs yet but there’s a large metal door. 

Price goes over to open it and it’s a stairwell leading down. If Dr. Montgomery and Hale were going to be anywhere, it would be in there. 

Price goes down first. As he rounds the corner he sees a Shadow, firing off a shot taking him down before he has a chance to turn and see them. He continues down the narrow corridor. There are doors on each side. The first one is empty. The second, one more Shadow. There are fewer than Price thought there would be. It’s almost too quiet. 

“Soap, go back and shut the door,” Price says. They don’t need anyone sneaking up on them. Price peeks around the bend in the corridor. There is one room and then the corridor ends. Price turns back, pushing on the next door. 

When he looks in he sees Dr. Montgomery. She is still tied to the chair. She lifts her head up.

“I told you not to come,” she says, but there’s a smile on her face. Gaz puts his weapon down going over to her.

“Where is Hale?” Price asks. 

“Upstairs maybe. I didn’t exactly get a guided tour,” she says, gritting her teeth while Kyle cuts her ties. 

“The machine. You have to press the green arrow on the screen,” she says, nodding over to it. 

Price keeps looking down the hall.

“Ghost, we’ve found her. How's things looking out there?” Price says. 

“Quiet, no movement,” he responds. 

Soap comes round the corner, almost making Price jump. He turns back to look at Gaz and Dr. Montgomery. She looks beat up, pale, and she's attached to the machine next to her. 

“What’s that?” Price asks coming into the room and letting Soap take point on the door. 

“Drains my blood, making sure I don’t have enough in my system to heal myself.” She says leaning back on the chair. 

“The Professor sure is resourceful,” Gaz says, rolling his eyes. 

“It was my invention actually,” she says. Soap looks back at her frowning. “Did you forget that I'm not one of the good guys for a second?” 

“We need to get out of here,” Price says. She nods moving to sit forward in the chair.

“Soap, go check ahead. We still haven’t located Hale yet,” Price says going over to the door. 

Soap nods heading down the corridor. 

“Just pull it,” she says. Price turns to see Gaz holding her arm. She has bandages in her free hand. He lets out a breath and pulls something out of her arm. She grits her teeth letting out a groan as she places the bandages on her other arm. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Kyle asks. She moans nodding as she moves to stand up.

“Yeah,” she says as Gaz helps her to her feet. She’s unsteady, even swaying against him as he gets his arm under her armpit, so she can lean on him. An alarm rings out. 

“Soap!?” Price calls through the radio. 

“It’s not me!” he calls back.

“What’s going on?” Ghost asks. Price looks back at Gaz helping Dr. Montgomery. Fresh blood is dripping onto the floor. 

“Stand-by,” Price says as Soap comes back around the corner, Price leads with Soap watching their 6. They need to get out of here. Whatever set off the alarm it can’t be good. 

“Price you’ve got Shadows driving to the house,” Ghost says. Shit. There is no way Graves is here already. They must have been nearby. Not like the Professor to host his security inside his mansion. 

“Soap go ahead see if you can stop the alarm!” Price calls. Soap nods, pushing his way past them. Price waits at the top of the steps letting Soap go out first.

“How many Ghost?” He asks.

“10, maybe more, civilians too,” Ghost replies. 

Great, now they have to worry about civilians. He looks back down at Gaz supporting Dr. Montgomery. Gaz nods at him and they push through the door into the lobby.

Kate is nervous, and you’ve never seen her nervous before. She’s tapping her foot as she types on her laptop. It’s making you nervous. You get up off the sofa, wrapping the blanket around you and go to the table to sit with her. 

She looks up from her laptop as you do. You smile at her and she smiles back. 

“How long do you think they will be?” you ask. 

“I don’t know. They will call when they’re done.” 

“Do you think they can kill the Professor?” 

“Yes. They’ve had to do harder things,” she says looking at you.

“Like what?” you ask, curious. 

“Maybe you should ask John about that kind of stuff,” she says.

“What about you? Are you a soldier?” You realize you don’t know that much about Kate. 

“CIA,” she says, shaking her head. You’ve heard of them before. 

You sit there watching her type on the laptop and then your vision is pulled outside. It’s dark outside and you watch as the floodlights are coming on across the field you can see out the window. All of a sudden it feels like something has changed. A bell rings out and it makes you jump. 

Kate turns around in her chair looking out on the field as you see soldiers start running around. She looks back slamming the laptop closed. All of a sudden she’s out of her seat. Now you’re definitely nervous.

“Come,” she says, her voice level as she goes into John’s office. You nod, wrapping the blanket around yourself. She grabs a backpack and puts the laptop in, throwing it over her shoulder. She leaves the room without closing the door. 

“What’s going on?” you ask as she walks fast down the corridor, almost dragging you along as you head to the fire exit at the end. 

“We need to get out of here. Quick, put some shoes on. And do you have a coat?” she asks as you go into your room. You nod following her instructions, pulling some trainers on and a jacket. Almost as soon as you’ve zipped it up she’s gripping your arm again pulling you out the room.

“Wait,” you say, stopping her. You look around your room. You have a feeling you’re not going to be coming back here. You go over to your nest picking up Dr. Piper's scarf. It still smells of her. You wrap it round your neck, tucking it into your jacket. 

You go up to Kate. You're ready now. She nods at you, leading you out the fire door. You’re hugging the building as you follow her, trying to match her movements. Your heart is thumping in your chest. You don’t know why you’re being sneaky. You just follow her, keeping quiet. 

Before you know it, you’re at the exit you and John take to get to the forest. Kate pulls you up against the base’s wall. You’re hidden in the shadows. You listen to the trees swaying as the wind picks up. You can feel the electricity in the air, the rain moving in. 

“Stay close,” she whispers, inching forward to the corner of the wall. You’re holding your breath as she looks round the corner. You watch as her hand slides down her side pulling a pistol into her hands. You swallow the lump away as you watch her pull the barrel back. The pistol clicks and she brings it up to her chest. 

You keep quiet as you follow Kate as close as you can, your hand resting on her back. She’s peeking around the corner and before you have time to calm down, she turns, running through the exit gate. 

You follow her, holding your breath. As soon as you're through the gate you’re in full sprint forcing your body to move and keep up with Kate. You run past the path you would normally walk down with John and she keeps going.

You run with her until she turns to the right down what looks like a walking path. She slows to a walk and you let yourself suck in breaths of air, the cold making you shiver as the drizzle of rain falls on you. 

Kate doesn’t say anything, putting the pistol back at her hip as you continue to follow the path. You wonder what John is doing, what your pack is doing. You hope they’re okay. You don’t get long to worry about them as Kate takes a sharp turn off the path into the thick foliage of the forest. 

You wish you could enjoy the sounds of the woods, the smell of pine. You can smell damp, the ground after rain. It makes you miss John. You miss your alpha. 

“Where are we going?” you ask after a few more minutes of walking. 

“There’s a truck parked waiting for us. We need to get to it and meet up with John.” 

“Okay,” you say. You can hear the nerves in your own voice. You keep following her. You're not sure how long you’re walking for, trying to keep up with Kate as you stumble through the forest. Eventually you come across a truck. It’s one of the big ones with 3 seats in the front and benches in the back, covered in a tarp.  

You’ve seen them around the base. They always looked so out of place. You follow her into the front seat. It’s cold and the rain is starting to fall down hard now. You bring Dr. Piper’s scarf up to your nose. It smells of her, and you smile, breathing it in as Kate drives off down the dirt road.

“Ghost we need a way out,” Price asks over the radio leading Gaz out while Dr. Montgomery leans heavily on him. 

“Main entrance is a no go. Go back the way you came, through the side door,” Ghost says. Price shakes his head. They need to move fast. He’s frustrated. He can’t think with this stupid alarm almost deafening him.

“Soap, any luck finding the kill switch?” Gaz calls as loud as he can over the radio.

“Working on it!” he calls back, barely audible even though Price can tell he’s shouting. They make it up to the ground floor and the ringing just seems worse, the large empty rooms echoing, the sound bouncing off the walls. 

It doesn’t matter. They’ll be out soon. The building is like a maze, and Price has to really focus to remember the way out. He looks over at Dr. Montgomery. She looks worse. She’s going to need medical attention when they have time. 

Suddenly the ringing stops. There’s collective sighs of relief. Price’s ears are still ringing though. 

“This way,” Price says, leading them to a door with light coming through. It leads down a corridor. Now they’re heading to the west side of the building, which is good since that’s the way they came from. Price has to keep checking behind him to make sure Gaz is keeping up. 

He peeks into a room and sees Soap leaned over a table with a computer on it. There are monitors all over the wall and equipment everywhere. By his feet is a body with a knife sticking out of his neck. The whole room is covered in equipment. This must have been the main command room. 

“C’mon Soap lets go!” Price calls over to him.

“Wait Cap, you need to see this,” he says pointing at one of the monitors on the wall. Price sighs against his better judgment and walks in to see the screen Soap is looking at. 

It’s the Professor, his hands spread over a desk. He’s somewhere in the house, in an office watching from afar. Now Price needs to go find him. Shadow company are at the door. He needs to get Dr. Montgomery out first as he sees her walk into the room. 

“Hold on, let me,” she says, moving away from Gaz and over to the computer. Soap moves out of the way and she types something then presses a button on the console. The cameras move and everyone sees the door to Hale’s office lock. He can see him fighting with it as shutters on the windows slam down. 

She chuckles. She’s not done though as she continues to click through the computer until she finds something. 

‘Lockdown initiated,’ a robotic voice comes through.

“ Yes,” she says under her breath as a warning comes up on the screen. She clicks ‘accept’ and a big red button with a plastic cover on the console pops open. 

“I’m staying. There’s a kill switch here, and it’ll blow the place.” She steps back from the computer so they can see. Price isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at. Gaz and Soap step in to take a better look. 

“You can’t put it on a timer?” Gaz asks as he looks at the computer monitor. She shakes her head.

“That would defeat the purpose. It’s a suicide switch, a last resort. If anyone ever suspected the Professor, he would rather take everything down with him. He imagined himself going out in a blaze of glory, fighting till the bitter end. Covering up his transgressions as his world burnt around him. His last fuck you to the authorities.” She seems almost happy about it. Her energy seems to have picked up as she clicks through security cameras. 

“The investors are here,” she says as they watch the outside CCTV. They’re making their way to the front door. They don’t have long. They need to leave now. 

“It’s not your job to fix this!” Price says taking a step towards her. She backs up, almost bumping into Soap.

“I helped put the omega in the position she’s in now. It is my job to fix this,” she says, frowning almost like she’s annoyed. 

“It doesn’t matter, come on!” John snaps, grabbing her arm. It’s his job to fix this, not hers. She digs her heels into the floor holding her ground. 

“We could destroy it all, John. Professor Hale will be dead, and the chemical destroyed. The investors are here because he wanted to make this place his new lab. Everything is here, everything but the omega.” She looks him in the eyes as he thinks about it. 

He lets her arm go. Hale buried, the chemical destroyed. There would be no one left. They could end it right now. He can see the determination in her eyes. 

She knew this was a suicide mission. Now it still can be. 

“What, no! We’re getting you out of here,” Gaz says pushing in front of Price. She can see Price has already made up his mind. She smiles puling her arm away so Gaz can't grab her. 

“You would die too,” he says as a matter of fact. She nods as a beeping starts on the console and she swears under her breath, turning to the computer.

"Hale's trying to override the lockdown, he could trap you all in here. You need to go John." She says her voice filled with urgency, she quickly looks over at him before turning her attention to the cameras. Price can see the professor by his computer, the shadows are running up the steps to the front door.

“Is there anything you can do Soap, put this on a timer or something?” Gaz asks.

“With a homemade system like this it could take me hours. It’s impressive, built into the foundation of the structure itself,” he shrugs.

"I can keep Hale locked in his office. I can even cut off Shadow Company so you can get out." She explains turning back to look at Price. 

“Price, hostiles heading into the building. What’s your ETA?” Ghost says over the radio. Price can see they've breached the door. They need to leave now. 

“Your hands will be clean. You can take the omega and go on that holiday. You didn’t kill anyone, this will cover your tracks,” she pleads standing up and turning to look at him. The beeping stops.

“We’re leaving now,” Price says over the radio. 

“Cap, you’re not seriously considering this?” Gaz asks. Price can see the pleading in his eyes and hear it in his voice. Will you ever forgive him?

“What about the omega?” Price asks. 

She pauses and smiles.

“She’s your omega, you’re her pack. She doesn’t need me anymore.” She fights to keep the tears back. She’ll cry for you when they’re gone. Price's hand rests on her shoulder. 

“You’re a good person,” he says. She smiles at him looking down as he passes her a radio. “We’ll let you know when we’re clear.” 

She nods, taking it out of his hand. 

“Let’s go,” Price says, turning away and heading for the door. Soap lays his hand on her shoulder and squeezes. 

“I’ll make sure she never forgets you,” he says, coming into her view and smiling as he drops his hand. She smiles back at him. Gaz lingers for a few seconds watching her face as Soap jogs past him. He nods, his lips pressed together before he leaves the room too. 

Price leads them down the maze of rooms and hallways towards the exit of the house. Price tries not to think about you as he reconciles with the fact he's letting both of the people you consider anything close to parents die. 

The Professor was going to die anyway. Dr. Montgomery is a martyr, but it’s the right thing to do. Destroy it all, and then no one else can be harmed. No more chemical, no more Professor, no more unnecessary deaths. The investors will watch the building fall to pieces; they won’t want to invest in rubble. 

He can almost feel Gaz’s eyes burning into him as he justifies it in his head. They make it out the side door and back over the wall. 

When they make it over they follow the wall round to the front of the property. The blacked out SUV’s are parked at the end of the drive inside the gate. Price can see the investors waiting around as the Shadows have made it into the building. They’re going to be dead too. 

They follow the dark graveled road till they make it to the outhouse Ghost is set up in. He comes out when he sees them. They all turn to look down at the house a few hundred meters away. 

“Where is she?” Ghost asks. 

Price brings his hand up to activate his radio.

“We’re clear,” he says.

“John, promise me you’ll keep her safe.” Her voice comes through his ear piece. 

“I promise,” he replies. He feels guilt rise in him now, and he can feel everyone's eyes digging into him as Ghost figures out what’s going on.

“Simon. It’s okay you never forgave me. I never forgave myself.” Soap looks over at Ghost, watching as a breath leaves his throat. Price can smell the sadness in the air. 

“Price, what's going on?” Ghost asks. 

Price doesn’t say anything, the line goes silent. There’s heavy tension in the air, a distant rumbling and then explosions. The ground seems to shift as the explosions get louder. The building starts to crumble. The investors scream, running back towards the cars with whatever Shadows are still outside. 

“No, Price!” Ghost calls his voice catches in his throat. 

“Piper what the hell?” Ghost shouts over the radio.

“You’re a good man Si—” The transmission is cut off. The explosions are bigger now, he can see sections of the building blown off and then the building collapsing in on itself. Price can feel the eyes on him, the tension in the air. He doesn’t want to turn around. He doesn't want to face what he’s done. 

It’s for the greater good , he reminds himself as he turns to look at them. Ghost’s eyes are wide, Soap’s hand resting on his shoulder from behind. Gaz is looking down at the ground. 

“She’ll never forgive you,” Ghost says, his voice low as he composes himself, shrugging Soap’s hand off. Price nods. He knows what he’s done. Ghost shakes his head and turns to walk away. Everyone follows in silence. 

It’s for the greater good, he reminds himself, taking one last look at the ruined building as fires start. 

You’re waiting in the back of the truck with Kate. It’s cold even with the blanket you found. You know you’re never going to be going back there but even Kate has been vague with you. You were driving for what felt like hours before you ended up off a large road to a secluded spot in the forest. 

Now you just had to wait. Eventually a phone rings. You have almost dozed off when it jerks you awake. Kate answers it but doesn’t say much, just Yes, of course, see you soon. You’re playing with Dr. Piper’s scarf in your hand. You want to give it back to her when you see her. 

“They’re on their way,” she says, smiling at you. 

“Is Dr. Piper with them?” you ask. 

“I don’t know, I assume so.” 

You smile at her, that's good. Of course they rescued her. You never doubted them. You’re giddy, your body warming up as you think about Dr. Piper coming back. You even shrug the blanket off after a while. 

You hear them before you see them, the headlights of the car shining through the trees. You’re excited, smiling as the car pulls up, stopping. You hop out of the back of the truck following Kate as she walks over. They turn the car off and the lights go dark as people start to get out.  

John gets out first, then Simon, then Johnny. Your heart beats quicker, and your smile fades. 

You can’t smell her. 

She’s not with them. You swallow hard backing up next to Kate. You can smell sadness, guilt, anger. John walks over to you and stops in front of you. He hesitates. That makes the tears come again. There’s a chill in the air. Hidden under the canopy of trees it sounds like the rain is falling harder.

“We got to Professor Hale’s house. We found her,” he pauses. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to say it.

“And she was dead?” you ask, swallowing the sob building up in your throat. She was dead before they got there. There was nothing they could have done. That's what he’s about to tell you.

It’s worse, so much worse. He shakes his head. 

“While we were leaving she came across a room. A room she said could destroy Hale’s building, burying him inside,” he says. You nod frantically at him.

“The kill switch, she used to call it—” the words die in your throat as you realize what he’s getting at. The suicide room, she used to call it the suicide room. 

“No,” you sob. He takes a step closer to you, but you step back. 

“You stopped her right? You didn’t leave her to die?” Your eyes fill with tears. You take another step back looking around at everyone. Johnny and Kyle look sad, their eyes wide as the horror of what happened sinks in. 

“I’m so sorry,” John says, stepping forward. You shake your head, your hand coming to your mouth. 

“You could have saved her! You could have said no!” you snap at him, way louder than you expected. It even seems to shock him as you rub tears out your eyes. 

“I’m—” 

“No! You promised, you promised you would save her!” you shout at him. He starts to move towards you, but you hold your hands out, your anger strong in the air. He stops. 

You look at him. You can’t tell if he looks sad or not. You can’t tell how he feels. You can smell his alpha and it makes you feel sick. Your hand goes to the back of your neck where you can feel his mark. 

He let her die. He could have saved her and he let her die. You can’t look at him anymore. You turn to the woods letting your hand fall from your neck. 

You look out into the blackness of the forest. You can hear the wind and the rain, the air is cold. 

She’s dead. Dr. Piper is dead and it’s all John’s fault. You let the next sob die in your throat and sprint off into the dark.  

Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren Sorry...

[valkyyriia]

Day 11: Reflections in the Waves (of Pleasure)

Kinktober 2024 Prompt List | Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 1947 CW: Mirror Sex, PiV, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, Long-Suffering Sebastian, Voyeurism Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain x Reader Prompt(s): Mirror Sex | Oral

Notes: The urge to have Sebastian call himself ‘one hell of a butler’ was strong but I did resist. Not enough to keep it out of the notes, though…

NEW: Want to be tagged when I post new fics? Submit the form here!

“The mirror you requested has finally arrived, Monsieur le Comte,” Sebastian said when he entered the room, delivering the day’s mail to the vampire noble as he normally did. “Masters Napoleon and Leonardo helped me bring it upstairs to le Mademoiselle’s room.”

Comte smiled, pleased. “Thank you, as always, Sebastian,” he replied. “I always appreciate your hard work. I’m sure it was heavy.”

Sebastian bowed and left the room, promising to bring up tea shortly. “There’s no need,” Comte said, standing up and shrugging on his long overcoat. “I’ve a few things to do before she gets home, so I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

For the first time this month, you were actually doing your job. You had left with Isaac earlier this morning to do the shopping. Conveniently, the mirror had come in not long after you left, so it was still a surprise.

Comte immediately made his way to your room, pushing open the door to inspect the craftmanship. Normally he’d show a bit more decorum; Comte was a gentleman, truly, and would not deign to enter a woman’s room without knocking first. However, he needed to make sure the piece was up to his lofty standards before you got home to see it.

A few weeks ago, you had made an offhand comment to le Comte about not having a mirror quite long enough to be able to see your shoes with your dress unless you were standing far away, and even then you could barely see due to the distance. Comte’s eyes widened incredulously. How had he not considered that would be an issue? This was a travesty!

Thus, in true Comte de Saint-Germain fashion, he had immediately contacted a metalsmith and commissioned a large, gilded mirror. The thing was truly a work of art; it was nearly large enough to cover an entire wall, and richly decorated in golden filigree and gemstones. The metalsmiths had outdone themselves. The mirror was so grand in its design, it frankly wouldn’t be out of place amongst the treasures of Versailles.

He hoped you would be pleased when you saw it.

Smiling to himself, Comte went to call a carriage. He would meet you in town, treat you to a nice lunch, and bring you home to show you the gift he had gotten you. Maybe he would buy you a few new dresses, too. He had an excuse this time, after all; you needed to try out your new mirror.

Oh, he simply couldn’t wait.

You and Isaac had just finished up the grocery shopping when you heard a familiar tenor call your name from behind.

“Comte?” You asked, turning around, startled. Your eyes were wide, but the smile that broke out across your face was wider when you saw him.

“I thought I would surprise my lovely partner by meeting her in town,” Comte said, walking over to you and kissing your hand in greeting. “It’s good to see you as well, Isaac,” Comte added, turning his smile to the other vampire. “I was going to ask if you’d like to join us for lunch?”

Isaac, true to himself, blushed something fierce. “I thank you, for the offer, but I’ll bring the shopping home. You two have fun.” Before you could so much as protest, the physicist had taken your bags and flagged down a carriage.

You watched him go, feeling somewhat guilty. The guilt was replaced with giddy happiness when Comte tucked your hand into the crook of his elbow. “Allow me to treat you today, ma chérie.”

You finally returned to the mansion a few hours later as the sun was just beginning to set over the woodline. You were somewhat proud of yourself; you had managed to talk Comte down to just four new dresses instead of the ten he had wanted to buy. You had a sneaking suspicion that the vampire had gone ahead and purchased the other six anyway, to be delivered later on, but you would take the small victories when they came.

Comte, ever the gentleman, refused to let you carry a single thing. “What kind of partner would I be if I made you carry the gifts I purchased for you? I’ll not hear a word of it, chérie.”

The guilt you felt before resurfaced when you entered the mansion’s foyer and saw Sebastian dusting the wall sconces.

“Welcome home, Monsieur le Comte, Madame le Comte,” Sebas greeted, adding emphasis to your own name. Your cheeks flushed in a mixture of embarrassment and indignation, the guilt replaced with irritation. Comte chuckled at your side and moved a hand to the small of your back to guide you up the stairs.

“Thank you, Sebas,” Comte said over his shoulder. “We’ll be down for dinner later this evening.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will,” Sebas muttered under his breath. If le Comte heard him, he made no indication of it.

When you had made it to the residential hallway and stopped in front of your door, you knew something was up. Usually, you would join le Comte in his own chambers for the evening since his suite was far more spacious. The only true downside was the way Leonardo would sometimes barge in, though the Italian polymath had taken to knocking before entering as of late.

You briefly wondered why.

Before you could go further down that line of thought, you shook your head. “Abel,” you addressed your partner. “What did you do?”

Le Comte smiled elusively. “Whatever do you mean, ‘what did I do’? I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific, chérie.”

You rolled your eyes. “You met me in town. Took me to lunch. Bought me more dresses. Let me win an argument over how many dresses you were allowed to buy me.” You raised an eyebrow. “And now we’re back at my room. You never bring me back to my own room unless you’ve plotted something.”

“Don’t I?” Comte asked innocently. “Can’t I spoil my darling partner with a spontaneous date just because I felt like it?”

“You can,” You conceded. “But you don’t.”

Comte just laughed, gesturing to your door. You eyed him suspiciously but obeyed him anyway, opening the door. Immediately, your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. “You didn’t,” you accused, turning back to him. “Really?” You asked.

Comte followed you inside and shut the door behind him, locking it. “You said you couldn’t see your shoes in the other one. That, mon amour, was inexcusable.”

You just shook your head. Two of Comte’s favorite things were spoiling you and fashion. He particularly enjoyed spoiling you with fashion. You supposed you weren’t really surprised that this was something he viewed necessary. You sighed and conceded.

“Thank you, Abel,” you smiled. “It’s beautiful. I suppose this is why you insisted on the dresses?”

“And also why I agreed to only four,” Comte added, pulling you to him for a peck on the lips. “I feared ten would have been far too obvious.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly and leaned in for another kiss, which Comte was all too happy to give. The kisses quickly grew hotter and heavier. You parted your lips and Comte eagerly teased your tongue with his, his hands moving to your hips and pulling you closer. He squeezed your ass and you gasped into his mouth.

Your eyes lazily drifted open and you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You flushed and pulled away from Comte, your palms flat on his chest. He looked down at you curiously.

You cleared your throat awkwardly before whispering, “the mirror.”

Comte raised an eyebrow.

“I can see us,” you grumbled. He chuckled lowly, sending heat pooling in your belly.

“I hadn’t purchased this mirror with quite that intention in mind, but,” he smiled deviously. “That’s another good use for it.”

Ten minutes later found Comte seated in your desk chair, his front to your back, buried to the hilt inside of you. He had his arms under your knees and was lifting you up and down on his cock. He had spread your legs wide, leaving your cunt on full display in the wall-sized mirror. You bit your lip as he moved you, his length gliding smoothly in and out of your body.

“Look at yourself, chérie. See how beautiful you are when you’re taking my cock?”

Your original hesitance was long gone; instead, your eyes were fixated on the lewd sight of him disappearing within your entrance. Comte’s cock glistened in the candlelight, your slick coating him thoroughly as he sunk deep inside you with each movement.

Your eyes briefly flickered up to the reflection of his face. Comte smiled coyly at you as you did so; the vampire was far more interested in watching your face as you took him, your eyes glazed over in lust and your mouth falling open in pleasure.

His lips drifted to the sensitive flesh underneath your ear and he kissed there. You shuddered, your legs involuntarily falling wider as he did so. Comte chuckled, his breath ghosting over the lobe of your ear. He took the lobe between his blunted teeth, careful to avoid breaking the skin with his fangs. Comte nibbled there before dragging his lips down the side of your neck, his fangs barely grazing the flesh.

You cried out in pleasure as the vampire latched onto your skin, sucking harshly on the flesh there without piercing it. An orgasm ripped through your body like the incoming tide as he slammed you harshly down on his cock. Your eyes focused on where your bodies were joined as he too met his climax, his groan resonating against your skin. You watched as your cunt pulsated, drawing twitch after twitch from Comte’s length. Each pulse of his cock resulted in a flood of warmth deep inside you. He drove himself somehow deeper with a grunt, his sweaty forehead falling against the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

After what felt like an eternity, Comte pressed a kiss to your shoulder and slipped from within you. What followed was a trickle of fluid, a mixture of his own come and your slick, dripping out of you and onto his softening cock. You inhaled sharply.

Comte laughed breathlessly, slowly lowering your legs. “I think we found something new you like, non, ma chérie?”

“Fermez-la,” you snapped at him petulantly.

His laugh just grew louder.

Sebastian knew better. He truly did.

Rather than prepare a full meal, the butler resigned himself to his fate. Steeling himself, he prepared a few cold cut sandwiches and placed them alongside a bottle of Rouge on a silver serving tray. Carrying them upstairs, he repeated his mantra in his head.

All he had to do was leave it outside the door. He didn’t have to see them. He didn’t have to hear them.

He hoped.

He breathed in deeply. He can do this.

He was a fantastic butler. So what if his employer was sleeping with his coworker? He can maintain decorum and -

“Look at yourself, chérie. See how beautiful you are when you’re taking my cock?” Comte’s voice drifted through the crack of the door.

Sebastian swallowed thickly.

Luck was not on his side today.

Sebastian didn’t fancy himself much of a voyeur, but-

He shook his head. No. He was not getting into those thoughts.

He quickly, but neatly, placed the tray outside the door. Standing up and straightening his bowtie, Sebastian retreated back to the safety of the kitchen, pointedly ignoring the tightness in his pants.

So what if he later purchased a smaller, floor-length standing mirror for his own personal use?

Dividers by @/natimiles

Taglist: @natimiles @queengiuliettafirstlady @candiedcoffeedrops @goddesswitchmother @candied-boys

@fang-and-feather @faustianfascination

Want to be added? Submit the form here.

[orpheusluvr]

Sweet Defeat (Ithaqua x Female Reader)

NSFW WARNING

A first ever defeat for this pro hunter has left him feeling distressed, but maybe you’ll be able to turn things around for him.

After your last match, you couldn’t find Ithaqua anywhere in the manor. You constantly asked the survivors, some of them giving you a puzzling look as to why you were so concerned about looking for a hunter.

You were just feeling bad for him after his defeat. His first ever defeat. You wanted to check up on him because you knew he’d be extremely upset about it. Because why wouldn’t he? This was such a big thing for him. Every hunter looked up to him, even aspired to be him. He was the many causes of their victories. The survivors on the other hand feared him the most, but still did congratulate him on his wins.

Eventually, you found him sitting alone on the ground in the greenhouse, reading a book. Despite half of his face being covered with his mask, you could already sense the sadness that he had. Especially by the way he was sat. Though, you had no idea how he was able to sit in that position considering his already large height that was even larger due to the stilts that he wore. But that was Ithaqua for you.

Ithaqua wasn’t just upset about losing the match. He was also upset because he assumed that you couldn’t take his hints at all.

He liked you a lot. The only survivor he actually felt a connection towards. And that’s why he always made sure to spare you at least, while defeating your 3 other teammates. He thought his efforts were being wasted, because you never seemed to change your actions towards him.

But he was wrong. You knew all along, but you just needed the right moment to make a move. To make him know that you liked him too.

And perhaps, today was a good time for it. Maybe this defeat is exactly what you need.

You slowly walked towards him. He knew you were there, but he didn’t bother moving or saying anything.

“Ithaqua…are you alright?” You gently said.

“If you’re here to taunt me about my loss, then go away.” He spoke coldly. His voice pierced through your soul.

“No…it’s nothing like that. I was just here to check up on you.” You reassured him.

“Alright, well you’ve done what you needed to do. Now, leave.” He said, the coldness in his voice still lingering.

You took a deep breath as you took his book out of his hands and placed it on the bench next to him.

“Hey! What are you-”

His words were cut off when you pushed your hair back and gently sat on his lap. His breath hitched, feeling himself become harder after finally feeling something press against his intimate area. You could also feel him, which made the heat in your core build up.

“Y/N…this is…”

Ithaqua held your shoulders, taking a moment to appreciate the view in front of him.

“Ithaqua…I know how you feel about me. And I wanted to return the favour since you always spare me in matches.” You said.

You took a deep breath.

“And…I like you too.” You smiled.

He suddenly felt as though he’d forgotten what happened today after you said those simple yet powerful words. All the weight from his shoulders had lifted.

“What did you say?” He said.

“Ithaqua. I like you. No, I love you.” You said.

He immediately pushed you down onto the ground, though not too quickly as he didn’t want to hurt you. Towering above you, he glanced at your figure. A small smirk appearing on his face.

“I love you more.” He said, before diving right in and placing a bite on your neck. He gently sucked, but enough to leave a mark. You held onto his blonde hair, slightly grabbing it as he continued peppering you with kisses all over your face, shoulders and neck. He wanted to show how much he loved you. Every part of you.

You feared that someone would walk in and see you both, considering that this was a public space. But you also knew that only Melly Plinius, the Entomologist, used the greenhouse. Right now, she was in a match and she wouldn’t be back for a while. It’s not like the first place she’d go to would be the greenhouse either; most survivors return straight away to their rooms to rest after a match.

Ithaqua on the other hand began lifting your shirt, placing more kisses along your chest and moving lower to your waist. Your breathing became faster the more lower he went, closer to your intimate area. Your moaning increased too, which drove him wild. He just wanted to do you right then and there, but he knew he had to take it slow at first. He wanted to admire your body slowly considering that it was his first time seeing it, then when the time was right, he’d violently thrust into you in no time. Fast and hard.

He lifted his head and sat up, admiring his work for a moment before leaning in and kissing you, tasting every part of you. The taste that he craved. You tasted sweet, like blueberries and strawberries. He on the other hand, tasted sour. Poisonous even. You weren’t surprised considering the type of person he was. But you still indulged deeper into the kiss, moaning between each of his movements. Gently lifting you up, he caressed you lovingly into his arms after you broke from the kiss, his hands gently rubbing against your back.

His hands kept wandering towards the clasp to your bra.

“Yes, you can take it off.” You whispered.

“How did you know I was going to ask?” He said.

You shrugged, then gave a quiet laugh.

He unclasped your bra, lifting it down from your shoulders and letting it fall to the ground. Although he was still wearing his mask, you could sense the lust within his eyes.

“Oh…they look so tempting.” He said, staring at your breasts.

“What are you waiting for? They’re all yours.” You playfully shake yourself, your breasts following your movements. Ithaqua immediately pins you onto the ground again, desperately sucking on one of your breasts while caressing the other.

“Ngh…Itha…that feels s-so good…” you moaned. The more you moaned for him, the more he found it harder to control himself. He had to be patient. He forced himself as much as he could.

How could someone like him be this patient?

But eventually, he gave up. One last lick around your nipple, and he was already leaning above you, sliding down your pants and then your panties, and also removing the belt to his pants and letting them fall down.

Your eyes widened at his huge length. Not surprising considering his huge height, but it still shocked you. You would probably only be able to fit half of him inside you.

“Itha…it’s not going to fit…” you gave an alarmed cry.

He immediately caressed your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make it fit.” He smiled.

“But that’s not what I mea-”

He immediately entered inside you without warning, and you had to cover your mouth to muffle the loud moan that escaped your lips. The loudest moan you’ve let out ever since. Your eyes welled up with tears, a stinging yet pleasurable sensation in your core as your walls clamped around his length and adjusted itself to this new feeling. This new member.

Ithaqua placed a kiss on your forehead, as he began thrusting. You grabbed onto his hair, your cries mixed with your moans.

“Itha…it hurts…it really hurts…” you whimpered.

For the first time, he actually became concerned, so he stopped.

“Okay…I’ll go slower.” He wiped your tears again.

And he did. It felt less painful, but it was agonisingly slow. Even Ithaqua didn’t seem to enjoy himself, but he didn’t want to hurt you either.

But there was a voice in his head telling him to go faster. To destroy you.

Because weren’t you the reason for his loss today? You were constantly on his mind, so much that he kept missing his attacks. How did he not manage to terror shock that one survivor? Oh, right. It was because you were walking past and he got distracted by you.

He clenched his fist, quickening his pace as he let out a groan.

You felt like you were going to pass out. The overstimulation was driving you crazy. Eventually, you reached your climax, coating his cock with your essence while some of it spilled out. A few moments later, he also reached his climax, painting your walls with his cum.

You lay there, a shaking mess of tears and sweat. Ithaqua seemed unaffected, he was clearly ready for a round two. Not surprising considering the incredible stamina that hunters had. All you could manage was a sigh.

He didn’t pull out of you, instead he moved back the hair that was sticking to your face and kissed both of your cheeks.

“Thank you, Y/N.” His voice gentle and loving. Completely different from how he usually was.

You could only manage a smile, before you closed your eyes and fell asleep. Ithaqua gave a smile as he looked at you with adoration. How innocent you looked after doing something so lustful and scandalous.

Ithaqua wasn’t bothered about losing matches anymore. Sometimes he even did it on purpose.

Because he knew that you’d always be there to comfort him and make him forget about his loss, and he wanted these moments to last longer.

[halfwayhearted]

Cariño — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend can’t stop looking at you, so… why not always check if something’s flown onto your face?

Word Count: 440+

Disclaimer/s — Fluff :3!

A/N: OH, HOW I LOVE THIS TOOTHY-GRINNED BOY.

“You’re not listening to me,” a pause. “Are you.”

It wasn’t a question. It was more of a statement, a statement that had a smile tugging at the corner of Pau’s lips within seconds. He wouldn’t deny it; you weren’t exactly wrong. “I’m listening. Go on.”

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes. “Yeah? What was I talking about then? Let me know.”

The boy in front of you can’t help but shrug. “You were talking about why you didn’t want to go into work this weekend. And I agree. Take time off.”

“Huh.” He was listening. “Why do you think that?”

“You work too much.” Pau shrugged once again, his gaze flickering from your interlocked hands back to your face, his gaze softening almost instantly. “I think time off would be good for you.”

That was, in fact, true! You worked too much. The days you spent completely and utterly exhausted made your boyfriend worried—more than you’d like him to be, well, at all. You hated worrying him.

“Okay. If I do take time off, emphasis on if, do you think you’d be able to come over? I feel like we haven’t had a sleepover in so long. It’s overdue.”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “Of course.”

“Perfect, it’s settled then! You can come over…”

Now he wasn’t listening. The sound of your voice faded out while he focused on the small details of your features—the way your lips were graced with a smile, the way your eyebrows went from furrowed to raised with excitement, even the way your nose scrunched due to the cold weather, making you sniffle. He was captivated by… you.

Then, when you move a certain way, a couple of strands of your hair slowly fall in front of your face, making him frown. If he was going to not listen to you, the least he could do was move it out of the way—one, so he could look at you some more, and two, so you wouldn’t be peeved.

Lifting his hand, Pau tenderly tucks the strands back behind your ear, the gentle touch causing you to momentarily lose your train of thought.

He most definitely wasn’t listening now, was he?

“You were so not listening this time, Cubarsí.”

Scrunching his nose, that big toothy smile of his forms and he shakes his head. “Not this time, I’m sorry. What were you saying? I’m listening now.”

“I forgot now,” you sighed, “Let’s go get food?”

“Food is good, let’s go. Maybe you can remember what it was you were talking about, hm?”

Doubtful, but cute. “Yeah, yeah, maybe I will.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @planetpedri + @spidybaby ! ౨ৎ

[lucimaaie]

dayum, i cant just not be liked by joel bro, its heartblade

petition to now make the ver. where u are like almost another daughter (almost because it'll be kinda weird 😝) to joel while dating/flirting his actual daughter

i got uu

the door swung wide open as you and ellie came in exhausted from patrol. it was still day but the cold had ran you guys from outside to the warm, isolated interior of joel's house.

ellie dropped her bag and flopped onto the couch. she stared at the fireplace longingly. "there's no way i'm sleeping in the garage tonight." she almost shivered at the thought.

"there's no way i'm letting you do that." you moved ellie's legs to sit on the bottom of the couch. "you could just sleep in my room." you said casually, slipping her shoes off and setting them by the couch. you lived with joel, but he wasn't your dad. not biologically, but after finding you almost freezing to death in a blizzard, he practically was.

ellie sat up. "grumps is not gonna like that," she tried not to show how your offer had peaked her interest. she barely got the time to be alone with you the way joel insisted on keeping the door open and being careful-all the trademarks of a dad speech.

"he doesn't have to." you said with a hint of mischief in your voice. that same mischief that ellie loved and joel most definitely didn't. "c'mon." you intertwined your fingers with ellie's, pulling her off the couch and up the stairs.

"you're gonna get me in trouble, just being in here."

you gasped. "now, i'm closing the door." the door shut with a soft click. " it's punishable by death. whatever shall i do?" you fell back on the bed dramatically.

"oh come off it." ellie smooshed your cheeks between her hands, hovering her face over yours. you could feel the developing calluses on her fingertips against your cheeks.

"never." you whispered, pecking her lips.

ellie would never get used to affection you shared now that you were dating. it took a minute to even realize that you weren't just best friends and another to get joel on board (luckily, you did with the promise that you'd be safe and never hurt each other.)

she wanted more. ellie chased your lips as you pulled away. her hands fell down to support her weight. she almost pouted. “we can’t kiss upside down.” you sat up, ellie did the same.

“why not? spiderman does it.”

“surprised you know who he is.”

“i’m gonna pretend that isn’t hurtful and kiss you.” and she did. it was as gentle as she always was, but not hesitant. she’d kissed you enough times to know you wouldn’t break if she wasn’t the gentlest person in the world.

so she let her hands roam. one on your jaw, like always. she liked being able to feel your speeding heartbeat there. the other was on your thigh doing nothing too crazy, just a slow rub across the skin.

not that she hated short kisses, but she found the extra time your lips across hers was usually the exact thing she needed. maybe that’s why did she didn’t notice joel’s voice yelling downstairs or his footsteps getting closer.

you were quick to split as the doorknob was turned. you had forced on your headphones and ellie had picked up a book on your nightstand.

“hey, you okay—” joel froze as he took in the sight before him. you were on opposite sides of the best preoccupied with things that weren’t each other, which let’s be honest, was never the case. he knew something was up. “huh.”

“hi pops.” you said in your best attempt to not sound outta breath.

“hey. y’know, i do remember saying something about keeping the door open-“

“heard.”

“loud and clear.”

joel felt placated. the whole reason he’d been hesitant on you two dating was just how close you were. that kind of thing, so young and fast, was worrysome for him. so yeah, he wasn’t ignorant to what two teenagers in love were doing behind a closed door. he would have words for that later, but seeing you both grinning like you held some secret he wasn’t privy to, made it okay for now.

thank you for reading!

[act-like-anangel]

I don’t know what just happened

All i know was that i was looking at Batfam and PK civ and PVP civ fanart

next thing i know i’m wondering about what would happen if the batfam met either of the Evbos cause from what know, PVP Evbo is prob around 16-18 i think and PK Evbo is prob around the same age maybe a little older.

How would the Batfam react to PVP Evbo having to die over and over again, being farmed like an animal for his sword? We don’t even know the actual timeframe for how long he was being tortured and killed, for all we know he could’ve been there for a month or two just dying over and over again, barely being fed enough to live but not enough to stave off the hunger. Having to be the ‘chosen one’ for people who don’t even care about you, who see you as a tool, not a human with real feelings.

How would the Batfam react to PVP Evbo only knowing violence from the start of his existance to now, because that’s all his world runs on, barely blinking when he has to kill someone because of how normalised it is. He also deadass could’ve dropped his sword whenever he needed to be farmed but just decided to be killed anyways??

Having to live in a civilization where he has to pay for bare necessities with his life, living with the knowledge of when exactly he’ll die.

How would the Batfam react to PK Evbo who was put on the Noob level who had to do parkour for the barest amount of food, the food being RAW chicken. or a piece of RAW beef. Not having enough food to even sprint or run but still having to jump precisely from block to block or else he’d fall into the void. Only having one neighbour left because all his other ones had died, and even that one is gone now too. How would they react to him being surprised at the idea of cooked food at the Pro level not to mention actually being able to eat it.

How would they react to Evbo barely having any time to relax in the Pro level before being challenged to a battle where he could DIE and having a totem given to him and the task of ranking up again thrust onto him. Literally dying and coming back to life after dying from fall damage which definitely hurt. Ranking up to a master, meeting Seawatt and finding out that his earliest memories were fake. He never even had any friends.

Being drugged and sent to fight the champion right after waking up and having to kill people in a parkour battle and ending up losing anyways, their lives and deaths being in vain. Being given the boots of his old mentor and having to immediately go and beat a tyrant after just waking up from what he thought was his death. Winning and having to take the responsibilities and make all the needed changes to civilization because who else knows it better than him when he’s been a Noob, a Pro, a Master and now a Champion.

Jumping into the void just hoping he won’t die, finding out his best friend has gone missing with no knowledge about wether or not he’s alive. How would they react to him being manipulated and tricked into doing several courses and going through the glass and crystal courses, sharpness of both making itself known to his hand. Going back and having to immediately do the neo course. Going to the parkour temple to end up having to follow in with the plan of destroying civilization because if he doesn’t his best friend will die.

How would they react to him having his rank stolen and having to save his friend before going to the altar of the Parkour God and jumping in the void hoping again that this wouldn’t be for nothing. Having to face the mentor who he knows is the reason for all of this, the person who separated innocent people from the rest of civilization for the action of one man. Letting them die out.

Having to fail another jump and again hoping that it wouldn’t be for nothing. Going back to his civilization that he was supposed to protect and seeing what the villain has done to it. Seeing his people’s empty cells knowing it’s empty cause they’re dead. Going to the master level and having to kill one of his own citizens because they’re so scared of the villain and what he would do to them if they didn’t listen. Going to the top with the knowledge that he’d probably die soon by the Villain using the command blocks to auto-kill him, having his hope ignited once he realises he has to do a parkour race instead, confident in himself before that confidence and hope is gone as fast as it came.

Jumping into the void again, waking up thinking he’s dead, finding out that he’s inheriting the powers of the Parkour God. Beating the villain and sitting with the knowledge that he’s god now. He doesn’t have to do anything anymore.

How would the Batfam react to that? A boy who knows too much, has done too much, and gone through too much.

[yoomiwrites]

Salty Rush⁴

Summary: Some time ago, Reader was a partner of Akainu, a comrade he could rely on. Reader betrayed the navy, became part of a pirate crew...And finally the two face each other again.

Note: Next chapter after 20 reactions or at friday next week!

The silence between us was suffocating, broken only by the distant drip of water echoing in the cavern. My legs ached, and every step felt heavier than the last. We had been walking for what felt like hours, maybe even days, though it was impossible to tell down here. My stomach twisted with hunger, my throat dry, but it wasn’t the physical exhaustion that weighed on me the most.

It was the silence.

The tension between Sakazuki and me was a palpable thing, a wall of steel that neither of us dared break. I didn’t even want to look at him anymore, but his presence was inescapable, looming beside me like a shadow. And every time I stole a glance, I was reminded of what he had become. Of the man I had once known, and the man standing beside me now—cold, distant, and ready to kill me the moment we escaped this place.

We finally stopped, coming across a small, open pocket in the cavern. It wasn’t much, just a break in the suffocating rock around us, but it was enough to sit. My legs gave out before I could even think to stop myself, and I slumped against the cool stone, the weight of everything crashing down on me.

I couldn’t keep walking forever. I wouldn't be able to hide my pain for much longer either.

Sakazuki remained standing for a moment, eyes scanning the darkness like he might find some hidden path out of here. His body was as rigid as ever, the military posture unyielding. But even he was exhausted—I could see it in the slight slump of his shoulders, the tension in his jaw. He wouldn’t admit it, of course. He never would.

Eventually, he sat too, though he made sure to keep a distance between us. I wondered if he thought he was guarding himself from me, like I might attack him in his weakened state. As if I ever could, even if I wanted to.

I hugged my knees to my chest, trying to keep the cold from settling into my bones. The air down here was frigid, and my body was starting to tremble from the chill. The only warmth came from the small flickers of heat that occasionally radiated from Sakazuki, though it felt distant, like the dying embers of a fire long extinguished.

Without a word, he raised his hand, and the temperature in the cavern shifted. Heat rippled through the air, subtle at first, but then stronger, warming the cold stone around us. He didn’t look at me as he did it, and I didn’t thank him, but the warmth was welcome all the same. It was such a small act, but it felt like a brief, fleeting connection—a reminder that, for all his coldness, there was still something human buried beneath all that steel.

But the silence couldn’t last. It never could with us.

"Why do you fight so hard for something you don’t believe in?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, my voice quiet but carrying in the stillness of the cave.

Sakazuki didn’t respond, didn’t even glance in my direction. His face was as stony as ever, his jaw clenched in that familiar way I had grown used to over the years. But I kept going, the weight of everything too much to hold back.

“In war, men fight battles that aren’t theirs,” I said, my voice growing stronger with each word. “For reasons they don’t understand. And you know that. You of all people know that.”

I saw his fingers twitch, just slightly, the only sign that he was listening at all.

“You could change things, Sakazuki,” I continued, feeling the frustration bubbling up inside me. “If you truly wanted to. You have power. More than most. You could make a difference. But instead, you fight for a system that’s rotting from the inside.”

He exhaled, sharp and controlled, but still refused to meet my gaze.

I couldn’t stop now. “You’re not blind. You’ve seen what happens. The innocents who get caught in the crossfire, the corruption, the way the Marines are used as puppets for people who don’t care about justice at all. You’ve seen it. And yet you keep fighting for them. For a cause that doesn’t care about you.”

Still nothing.

My voice trembled with frustration as I pressed on, the words spilling out like a flood. “You could walk away, Sakazuki. You could change things if you wanted to. But you won’t, will you? Because you’re too scared of what that would mean. Of what it would cost you.”

That finally earned a response, though it wasn’t what I expected. His eyes flicked toward me, hard and cold, but beneath that… something else. Something buried deep. His lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke, his voice low and controlled, the heat in the cavern suddenly feeling suffocating.

“I do what must be done.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with finality.

I shook my head, disbelief rising in my chest. “You tell yourself that because it’s easier. Because it’s easier to pretend that duty is everything. That you don’t have a choice. But you do. You always have.”

The heat around us flared for a moment, a sudden pulse of tension, before it settled again, simmering beneath the surface.

“There is no choice,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl. “Justice is the only path.”

I scoffed, pushing myself up to face him more directly. “Justice? Whose justice? The Marines? The World Government? The ones who decide who lives and who dies based on what serves them best? You know damn well that’s not justice.”

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the same cold, unyielding mask.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” he said, his voice like stone. “You walked away. You ran from your duty.”

“I didn’t run,” I snapped. “I left because I couldn’t keep pretending that what we were doing was right. I couldn’t keep pretending that the lives we destroyed were worth it.”

He turned away, the line of his shoulders tense. “The world is full of sacrifices. Someone has to make them.”

“And you think that someone is always you?”

He didn’t answer.

I shook my head, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. This was pointless. He wouldn’t listen. He couldn’t listen. His sense of duty, of justice, had consumed him to the point where he couldn’t see beyond it anymore.

But I wasn’t done. Not yet.

“You’re not a monster, Sakazuki,” I said quietly, and this time he flinched, ever so slightly. “You want to believe you are because it makes the things you do easier. But you’re not. You’re just… lost.”

His eyes snapped back to mine, and for a split second, I saw something flicker in them—anger, maybe, or pain. It was gone before I could understand it, but it was there.

“You know what the real crime is?” I whispered, leaning forward just slightly. “It’s that you’ve convinced yourself this is the only way. That you’ve given up everything—your humanity, your heart—for a cause that doesn’t deserve it. You could change things, Sakazuki. But you won’t. Because you think that this—” I gestured vaguely to the cavern, to the world we had fallen into, “—is all there is.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t say a word. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut, the heat of his power still warming the space around us but now feeling oppressive. His eyes were locked on mine, dark and unreadable, and I could almost feel the storm raging inside him.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“You’re wrong.”

The words were soft, almost too quiet to hear, but they carried with them the weight of everything he had never said. Everything he refused to admit.

“You’re wrong,” he repeated, his voice harder this time. “Because the moment you start questioning, the moment you let doubt take root, is the moment everything falls apart. The world is built on sacrifices. And if you’re not willing to make them—if you’re not willing to do what must be done—then there’s no justice left. Only chaos.”

I stared at him, feeling the full force of his conviction, the sheer intensity of his belief. And for the first time, I understood.

He wasn’t just following orders. He wasn’t just a mindless soldier. He truly, genuinely believed that what he was doing was the only way. That sacrificing everything—his emotions, his relationships, his own soul—was worth it if it meant preserving order.

But in the end, what was the cost of that order?

I turned away, exhaustion tugging at every part of me. I didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. And deep down, I knew it wouldn’t matter.

Sakazuki would never change. Not because he couldn’t, but because he had convinced himself that he shouldn’t.

And that, more than anything, was what broke my heart.

When I woke, the air around me was still warm. I blinked slowly, groggy from exhaustion, the events of the day sluggishly piecing themselves back together in my mind. I had fallen asleep. The cave was silent, the weight of the world pressing down on me as usual.

But something was off.

I stretched my stiff limbs and pushed myself upright, glancing around the cavern. It was still dark, still cold save for the lingering warmth in the air. But there was no sound, no movement.

No Sakazuki.

I stared at the empty spot where he had been sitting before I’d drifted off. My first instinct was to be relieved—maybe it was better this way. Maybe this would be easier without him looming nearby, his presence an ever-constant reminder of what we’d become. Alone, I could think clearly. Alone, I didn’t have to worry about his cold judgment or that looming threat of what would happen once we found a way out of this hellhole.

I sat there for a while, trying to convince myself that this was fine. That I didn’t need him. I had survived this long without him, hadn’t I?

But as the minutes—hours?—ticked by, a creeping unease settled in my chest.

How long had it been? An hour? Two? I couldn’t tell anymore. Time had no meaning down here in the dark. I didn’t even know which way was forward anymore.

And where had he gone? He wouldn’t just… leave, would he?

No, that wasn’t him. Even now, even after everything, I knew that much. Sakazuki wasn’t the type to leave loose ends. And that’s what I was to him now, wasn’t I? A loose end. Someone he had to deal with, one way or another.

But then why wasn’t he here?

The silence was too heavy, pressing against my chest until I could barely breathe. I didn’t like this. I didn’t like being alone in this place, the darkness pressing in from all sides, the only sound the steady drip of water somewhere in the distance.

I pushed myself to my feet, my heart beginning to race with a sudden panic I couldn’t quite control. What if something had happened? What if the ground had collapsed again, and he was trapped somewhere?

I shook the thought off. This is Sakazuki, I reminded myself. He wasn’t the type to get himself into trouble so easily. He was probably just scouting ahead or doing whatever the hell it is he does when no one’s watching. Cold, calculated, always in control.

Still, I couldn’t sit still anymore. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the panic that had begun to seep into my bones. I had to find him.

“Sakazuki?” I called, my voice echoing slightly in the cavern.

Nothing.

I swallowed, the silence growing louder. “Sakazuki!” I called again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Okay, okay. Don’t panic.

I started walking, retracing the path we had taken before stopping here. My footsteps echoed against the stone, and every now and then, I called his name again, louder each time. The sound bounced off the walls, amplifying, reverberating, until it felt like my own voice was coming back to mock me.

Where the hell was he?

I was starting to feel a sharp edge of panic. The darkness felt thicker now, more oppressive, and the longer I walked, the more the walls seemed to close in around me. I couldn’t help but quicken my pace, my breaths coming shorter and faster as I strained to hear any sign of him.

“Sakazuki!” I yelled, desperation leaking into my voice.

Suddenly, a loud, sharp crack echoed through the cave, followed by the sound of rock shifting, crumbling. My heart froze in my chest. The ceiling above me groaned, and before I could react, the ground beneath my feet shook violently.

I stumbled, trying to regain my balance, but the ground was breaking apart, chunks of rock falling from the ceiling. I instinctively raised my arms, preparing to shield myself from the debris—

But then I was yanked back, hard, a strong arm wrapping around my waist and pulling me out of harm’s way just as the rocks crashed to the ground where I had been standing.

The world spun, and when I finally steadied myself, I was pressed against a wall, Sakazuki’s body pinning mine to the stone as he shielded me from the falling rubble. The heat of him was overwhelming, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. I stared up at him, my heart racing in my chest, his face inches from mine.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he barked, his voice low and rough. “Do you not understand that loud sounds in an environment like this are dangerous?”

I blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. His grip on me was tight, his face twisted in anger, but there was something else beneath it. Concern? No, that wasn’t possible. Not from him. Not now.

I opened my mouth to respond, to explain, but instead—

I laughed.

I couldn’t help it. The absurdity of the situation, the sharpness of his tone, the way he still, even after all these years, sounded exactly the same—like the young, intense man I had trained with all those years ago. It was ridiculous. I had nearly been crushed to death, and he was lecturing me.

The laughter bubbled out of me uncontrollably, and I tried to stop it, but the more I thought about it, the harder it was to contain. I leaned back against the wall, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter, while Sakazuki just stared at me, utterly confused.

“What’s so damn funny?” he snapped, pulling away slightly, but he didn’t move far, his arm still braced in front of me.

I shook my head, trying to catch my breath between the laughter. “It’s just—” I looked up at him, wiping at the corner of my eyes. “You haven’t changed at all. You’re still lecturing me like we’re back in training.”

For a moment, his expression faltered. I could see it—the brief flicker of something in his eyes, something almost like embarrassment. It was gone in an instant, replaced by the usual hard edge of his gaze.

“We’re not in training,” he muttered, his voice stiff, as if he didn’t quite know how to respond. “And this isn’t a game.”

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “I know that. But for a second… it felt like we were back there again. You and me. Training. Arguing.”

He stared at me, the silence stretching between us. I could feel the tension in the air again, but it wasn’t the same as before. It wasn’t as sharp, as hostile. There was something else there, something softer, something that reminded me of the Sakazuki I used to know.

But just as quickly as the moment had arrived, it passed.

Sakazuki pulled back completely, his face hardening once more as he turned away. “We need to keep moving,” he said gruffly, his voice colder now, more controlled. “We can’t waste time.”

I watched him for a moment, feeling the distance between us grow again. Whatever had been there a second ago was gone now, buried beneath his iron will, his unshakable sense of duty.

But still, for that brief moment, I had seen it. The part of him that still remembered. The part of him that wasn’t just the stone-cold Marine.

I pushed myself off the wall and followed him, my heart still pounding in my chest, the warmth from his touch lingering long after he had pulled away.

Maybe, just maybe, there was still something left of the man I had once known.

[pastelwitchling]

              Alex loved the rain. He loved the sound, the sight, the way it felt like it was washing away every bad thing to ever touch the earth, and more than anything else, he loved the smell. He was willing to put up with days on end of the blistering cold on his leg if it meant he got to wake up and go to sleep to the smell of rain. Maybe it made him pathetic, but if that was all he was allowed of Michael these days, he would take it. Every single second.

              As he curled up on a chair in his kitchen, a steaming coffee cup sitting beside him and his laptop in front of him, Alex drowsily studied the files he’d been sent from Deep Sky as an old Ella Fitzgerald record played and rain pelted the windows. A sliver of the frame was open just above Alex’s sink, to let in the smell. The wind always boomed like it was threatening to tear the world apart, and though Alex knew he was safe and sound in his cozy little space, he couldn’t help flinching awake every now and then at the thundering sound.

              But Alex would happily take that too if it meant he was allowed the smell of rain a little longer. At least it was doing a better job of keeping him up than the coffee.

              It was midmorning when Alex got a knock on his door that he’d missed the first few times because of the storm. The sky outside made it look like late evening, and Alex had been working so long he wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d hallucinated the sound. The open window, however, was close to the front porch, and it was hard to mistake the guest at his door when Michael showed up in front of the glass pane instead, pushing it open a little further.

              “Private,” he called over the noise of the storm, dripping into Alex’s sink, “you wanna open the door for a sec?”

              Alex frowned, rubbed his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was real, and leapt up. “O-Oh,” he murmured, and hurried as much as his crutches would allow to let Michael in. “What’re you doing here?”

              Michael huffed a chuckle, running a hand through his soaked curls. He was without his hat, and despite the chill, his face was still flushed like his body was heating him up from the inside. He didn’t even shiver, the lucky bastard.

              “Nice to see you too,” he said, and tilted his head. “Did I wake you?”

              “Er, no,” Alex mumbled, undermining his point completely by rubbing the sleep from his eyes again. “I’m just a little tired. Here, I’ve got the fire lit.”

              “Thanks,” he said, and went to sit on the stone surrounding the fireplace while Alex went and grabbed him a new towel.

              “You need a hot shower,” he started, and Michael raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips tilted, amused.

              Alex blushed, and his shoulders fell. “You’re soaking, Guerin, you’ll get sick.”

              Michael’s smile spread, like he thought Alex was adorable. “I don’t get sick, Alex, remember?” He pointed at himself. “Alien?”

              “Well, I’m getting hypothermia just looking at you,” he said, uncomfortable. “Could you please just . . . look, the bathroom’s all yours and I can give you something to wear, just . . . please?” he urged, waving the towel at Michael.

              Michael chuckled, bit his lower lip, and grabbed it, covering Alex’s hand with his own as he took it. Alex swallowed at the heat of his touch—he definitely wouldn’t be dying from the cold any time soon—and quickly pulled away. He wouldn’t look at Michael as he got up, his body inches away from Alex’s as he passed him on his way to the bathroom. Alex held his breath until the bathroom door closed behind Michael, and he breathed out.

              He must be lonely tonight, was Alex’s first thought, and he couldn’t even summon the energy to feel guilty about it. This was what Michael did. He pushed and pulled when it suited him, and scoffed and dismissed when it didn’t. Since dating Maria, something Alex hadn’t been able to forgive her for and which had cost him a friend, Alex had learned the hard way that just because Michael wanted him, it didn’t mean he wanted to keep him. So yes, the distance between them now might be because Alex had enforced it, but he loved Michael too much to give him up again. It had nearly killed him the first time.

              If getting to keep Michael through rain was all Alex would be allowed, then that’s what he would take. Anything less felt too much like self-harm.

              Reminding himself of that, Alex went to his bedroom, fished out a pair of underwear, sweats, and a hoodie that Michael could take home, and set them on the small table outside the bathroom. Then he returned to the kitchen and went back to work, trying to busy himself. For a while, it seemed to be working, as the sound of the shower blended in with the storm, and Alex could almost pretend he didn’t have the love of his life naked and bathing with Alex’s scent on him a room over. Almost.

              He was rubbing the blur from his eyes for what felt like the tenth time when Michael had come out, a small towel around his shoulders, Alex’s shirt stretched across his torso. Alex was by no means small, but something about Michael always felt bigger, even with Alex layered in sweaters and his favorite cardigan to keep warm. Michael craned his neck to watch Alex’s laptop screen as he passed, sliding into a chair on the opposite side of the kitchen island.

              “Deep Sky still has you working that satellite?”

              Alex sighed, clicking something on his laptop. “You know way more about my work than you should.”

              “They’re using my airman,” he shrugged. “I’m entitled to know how much danger they’re putting you in.”

              He’d meant it as a joke, Alex knew he’d meant it as a joke, but that didn’t stop him from casually saying, “I’m not your airman, and you’re not entitled to anything I do.” He tried for an easy, small smile in an attempt to soften the blow. “Unless I’m working on you or Max or Isobel, then I promise I’ll send over what I have.”

              Michael, however, was no longer paying attention. He hummed, staring out the window at the falling rain. If he’d even heard Alex denying him, then he wasn’t showing it. Then, without asking, he got up to the window above the sink and shut it.

              “Did you not notice it was open?” he said, coming back to his seat. “You could seriously get sick with that chill coming in.”

              Alex swallowed. It’s okay, he thought. He got to enjoy the real for now, he could just open the window when Michael inevitably left. “I’m okay. You, uh, want some coffee or . . .?”

              “Sure,” Michael said, swinging one leg on the stool, and Alex tried not to wince.

              “U-um, there are socks in the drawer next to my bed.”

              Michael’s lips quirked. “You worried about me, Private?”

              Alex huffed. “Just go put them on, Guerin.”

              Michael held up his hands in defense, and slipped off his chair. When he was in the hall, he called back, “I hope I don’t die of a heatstroke while I’m here!” and Alex managed to keep his smile to himself.

              Michael came back into the kitchen, nudging Alex’s calf as he passed with a socked foot. “Feel better?”

              “Infinitely,” he deadpanned, sliding Michael a hot cup of coffee. Michael hugged it eagerly, scrunching his shoulders and gazing around like Alex’s home was Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory and he’d finally gotten the golden ticket to get in, which was ridiculous because Michael had been in Alex’s home before. Granted, it had never been for long, and it had never been with good news . . . which reminded him . . .

              “What’re you doing here?”

              “Hm?” Michael looked to Alex like he’d been waiting for him to ask, and shrugged in a, I dunno, gesture. “Just felt like seeing you. Can’t I?”

              Alex raised an eyebrow and waited. Michael squirmed on the seat for about ten seconds, and relented, “I had a dream about you last night.”

              “Uh oh,” he mumbled, trying not to look like he cared, “do I want to hear this?”

              “Not that kind of dream,” Michael’s smile widened. “Not this time, anyway.”

              “Guerin.”

              He sighed, the tease in his eyes dimming as he tapped a finger on the counter, his other hand idly turning his mug in place. “Bad dream, Alex. Really, really bad dream.”

              Alex considered him. “So you had a nightmare about something bad happening to me, I’m guessing, and rushed over here to make sure I was still alive?”

              Michael’s smirk didn’t reach his eyes. “Yep! Too dramatic?”

              “Depends,” Alex moved his laptop aside, bringing his coffee cup closer to absorb as much of the heat as he could. “How gruesome a death did I have?”

              For a moment, Michael just continued staring out the window and tapping his finger on his mug, and just when Alex was starting to wonder if he ought to just focus on his work, Michael said, “I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”

              Alex frowned. He waited, and Michael explained, “I walked into the Pony and . . . there was a funeral. Everyone was in black, crying their eyes out. Then Liz told me you’d . . .” he cleared his throat, “you’d d-died in action . . .” he huffed a chuckle that sounded more like a shaky exhale. “I said, ‘What? No, he didn’t. Nobody told me he was even going back to war.’ Liz looked at me like I’d spoken in another language, and said . . . ‘Why would anyone tell you?’”

              “Guerin . . .”

              He closed his eyes and smiled. Alex had never seen him look sadder. “I hated it, Alex,” he whispered. “I hated it so much.”

              Alex looked down. “It was just a dream.”

              “No, it wasn’t,” he said. “It was a reminder. I’m not your family, I don’t even know if you can call us friends, and if something ever happened to you—” he cut off with a sharp inhale, as though the very thought was too much to bear. He huffed a chuckle that sounded more like a cry. “Why would anyone tell me?”

              “Hey,” Alex reached halfway between them, stopping himself before he went any further, “look at me. I’m right here, I’m fine.”

              “But what if you’re not?” Michael demanded, the desperation he’d been keeping in revealing itself now. “What if you’re not, Alex, how will I know?”

Alex wished he knew what to say, but the truth was that he understood this fear too well. He’d spent his entire time in the military wondering where Michael was sleeping at night, if he’d eaten properly, if he was warm enough. It was an indescribable panic that had threatened to swallow Alex whole some days, it threatened him now, but he’d learned to force it away. At first, he’d done it because of the distance between them. Now, he did it because he didn’t know if he was allowed to hold Michael close like he wanted and needed to.

              “I don’t know what to say, Michael,” he said quietly. “You’re worried about something that hasn’t happened.”

              “But—”

              “Besides,” Alex said, slicing through Michael’s panic like a knife, “I’d never go anywhere without telling you.”

              Michael stared, stunned, and Alex sighed and dragged his laptop back in front of him. “Don’t look at me like that, Guerin. You know how I feel about you. If I ever left Roswell for anything, I’d make sure you knew.” He swallowed, and without looking at Michael, confessed in a murmur, “I’d want you to know before anyone else.”

              Michael said nothing, and Alex returned to his work, pretending he wasn’t waiting. They sat in a silence so peaceful, the storm substituting the quiet with pelting rain and thunder, Alex typing away as the wind roared, and he didn’t flinch at all. It was very hard to be scared when Michael was so close. Because whether he stayed or not, Alex knew he would fight the world to keep him safe.

              “I’d want you to know too,” Michael suddenly said into the silence, his words soft as though he felt the same peace of this moment that Alex did and didn’t want to break it.

              Alex tried to scoff, but it sounded weak and frightened to his own ears. “You better. I’m not above tracking you down, Guerin.”

              Michael’s lips broke into a bashful, genuine smile, and it warmed something in Alex’s chest that all his layers and fireplace hadn’t been able to.

              “Good,” Michael said. “Knew I could count on you, Private.”

              Always, Alex thought, but didn’t say out loud. As much as he loved and wanted Michael here with all his heart, not just for now, but for forever, he was still too clever for his own good. He knew it wouldn’t last, this wasn’t some new beginning for them. Soon, Michael would find some excuse to leave and some excuse to stay away, and Alex would accept it because he’d want someone to fight for him. For now, that wasn’t Michael.

              Still, he allowed himself a small, real smile of his own as he nudged his chin at Michael’s mug. “Drink your coffee.”

[shady-swan-jones]

QnA with J.D. Payne and Patrick McKay

Q1. You have to trim and edit things before they air, but is there a specific scene or scenes that you had a difficult time cutting that you really wanted in the final production?

 JD: Every cut we make, we do it because we think it's what’s best of the show. One cut that was challenging, without getting too specific, was some material that focused on The Stranger’s journey of self-discovery with Tom Bombadil. As we went through the editorial process of looking at what we had, and what we'd shot, and what we felt really worked, some of this got truncated. In some alternate universe where things had worked out differently, it felt like there could have been a story akin to Luke in Dagobah, with The Stranger learning more about his powers from Tom Bombadil, that would have been fun to see.

Patrick: There's fewer scenes, especially season two, that we dropped than you would think. I think there were two I can think of, Númenor scenes, but that ultimately felt like they were redundant with something that was covered elsewhere. There was a really nice scene where Valandil and Eärien took a walk through the city and they were lovely. It was all about how much they were grieving Isildur, but the audience was like, “we know he's alive”. And the minute we dropped it, even though it was sad to see it go, the story had more energy. So that's maybe just to give you a sense of the kind of thinking that goes into these things.

Q2. Do you guys have a favorite thing in the lore that you know for sure you won’t be able to put into the show?

 JD: I think we never want to say never. There's a bunch of things that could jump to the top of this list. There's stuff in the Third Age we probably won't cover. Or there’s some details from The Silmarillion that would enrich our storytelling, but that we don't have the rights to. But again, you never want to say never — there are things like the name “Annatar” that we originally wouldn’t have been able to use, that the Tolkien Estate graciously stepped in and made possible. We have some other pieces of lore like that on our wish list that we’ll have to wait and see what happens with. The road goes ever on! So, I think for now we'll just say that's TBD. 

 Patrick: I don't have a better answer than that other than to say, you know, Gollum is one of my favorite characters in the legendarium. He’s such a rich, complex character but I can't imagine a world where we would ever do anything with him in this show. Even at the very, very end. Which is too bad because he's so great, but then also maybe it's a good thing because he was done so brilliantly and iconically in the films by Peter and his collaborators and Andy Serkis. But it's like, that's a toy that would be fun to be able to play with.

Q3. Now that we know it is Gandalf and a Dark Wizard instead of the two blues, does this rule out the possibility of blues being in the show? Also, can you definitively rule out Saruman being the Dark Wizard?

 Patrick: I think it's hard to say anything is 100%, but we have no plans or intention to have him be Saruman. We are not thinking of him as Saruman. We know there are five wizards talked about in The Lord of the Rings. One of them is Saruman, one of them is Gandalf, one of them is Radagast, and then there are two others. It is our expectation that he will be one of those two others.

 JD: What I'll say is, I think it would be difficult logically to see how he could be Saruman. It would be sort of a “fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me” for Gandalf. If the Dark Wizard was going to be Saruman, then he would be an evil wizard that Gandalf was interacting with and fighting in the Second Age. And then he'd have to become good again and regain Gandalf’s trust, only to later turn evil again and betray him. It would just sort of strain credulity.

 Patrick: What I would say to add to that is, you know, again, we're not sort of playing fast and loose or, or trying to be tricky - characters reveal themselves to you as you go forward with their stories and, you know, The Stranger revealed more and more and more of who he was. It's just very hard to imagine that the Dark Wizard would be Saruman. I think while we want to be open as creators to every corner of the legendarium, I don't think that's going to happen. 

Q4. What canon characters are you guys most excited to introduce in the future?

JD: Several.

Patrick: That’s it!

Q5. How did Arondir not die between episodes 7 and 8? He was stabbed pretty good but in episode 8 he had the strength to fight back against the Uruks alongside the other elves. Then finished the season with Gil-galad, Elrond and Galadriel overlooking and inspiring the rest of the elves. Was there magic ring healing or was the injury just not in a fatal spot?

Patrick: So, this is a funny one. It was not a mortal blow. He was injured and defeated. We held the camera on him in a shot of him crawling on the ground. You're supposed to know “Okay, he's down, but he's not out”. Elves are elves. The first thing he says is elves heal of their own accord, unless the wound is like especially grievous or mortal. This was not a mortal wound. Is it possible that the king, as they were in captivity, might’ve used some magic to help him? Possibly. But we didn't even think the wound was that serious. We thought Adar beat him. When you lose a title fight boxing match, you're not dead. You're out for the count. And Adar defeated him in combat. He did not mortally wound him. But I think we realize now watching it, it's so surprising when Arondir is defeated because he's such an amazing hero. It feels more momentous even than that.  

Q6. Sauron spent time smithing in Númenor, he worked directly with Celebrimbor to have him craft rings of power so he has seen the process… At this point, does Sauron have everything he needs to craft The One Ring? 

 JD: I think you'd need to ask yourself — did he see everything that the elven smiths did in the process? Go back and watch very carefully, what he was there for, what he wasn't there for. We know from the legendarium that Sauron never touched the elven three. So, I think we can say, just watch very carefully.

 Patrick: No, I mean, he was not present for the forging of the three. Clearly, he was intimately involved and providing instruction and getting his hands on the actual works for the seven and the nine. And so, all we can do is point to what's already there, but certainly it sure feels like Sauron needed Celebrimbor and could not have made these rings without him.

 JD: We sort of like to think of the building of the rings as akin to atomic energy. It's like Sauron was there for all the theoretical physics that underpinned the splitting of the atom and the dawn of the nuclear age. But he wasn't actually there when the first bomb was built in the laboratory. So, what happens between concept and execution, as any screenwriter and producer knows, can be a lot. So go back and check it out. 

Q7. Fans have really dug the flashbacks and we open with flashbacks for season 1 and season 2. Could we see more in season 3 or is that something you don’t want to overdo?

Patrick: We actually like the idea that each season might start with a different slice of Middle-earth focused on a different character than it was last time maybe. Maybe you'd go to title after an extended section that tells you something new about a character and maybe goes to a time in their life that we haven't yet explored or seen on screen. We like the idea that this becomes one of the refrains of the show. That could change at any time as rules are made to be broken. But I will say at this time, as we're thinking about the story, we have a flashback that would start season three. And then maybe a couple more flashbacks sprinkled throughout the season. We always want to explore new corners of Middle-earth, and we always love showing you a new side of a character you haven't seen before.  So that's a non-answer, but hopefully answer enough.

JD: Something we can also say is, one of the things we love about Tolkien is how rich and layered his history is — his characters, his worlds, his peoples — all of them have these histories that are incredible. The immortal characters go back thousands of years. And even the characters that aren't immortal are part of lands and peoples whose histories go back thousands of years. It's almost like the work of a geologist as you're going through it, unpacking all the different layers. But as storytellers, you also have to be very careful with flashbacks because too many of them can sort of stop the story dead. A story always has to be moving forward. If you just get into flashbacks or backstory for backstory’s sake, it can end up miring you down, and deflating your story and interrupting your momentum. But the right flashback at the right time for the right character in the right place can open up an entire new understanding of a character's journey and story. As Patrick said, I think we've liked formally the idea of opening seasons that way. And as for what happens in the future, again, stay tuned. 

Q8. There are some camera shots looking down on Galadriel when she is in need of healing that almost looks like an eye in the middle of the shot…there is a very popular theory that this is Sauron checking in / looking down at her -  could you confirm or is this just a neat shot for the camera?

JD: When it comes to artistic interpretation, and the role that creators take on once they've put their work out into the world — there's this idea in literary criticism of “the intentional fallacy,” which critiques the notion that to truly understand the meaning of a work, one needs to somehow go back and figure out the author's original intent. Sure, authorial intent can shed light on what a work is trying to accomplish, just like we did with Arondir a second ago - “Oh, actually, we're going for this other thing, and people took it this way…” And we're always game for that. But what's also fascinating and really rewarding, I think, as creators is that... once you create something, it's out there in the world. And people are going to have all kinds of readings of it. 

And sometimes themes will have bubbled up in the writing and in the production that you weren't even necessarily aware of — either subconsciously, or happening as a sort of collective unconscious of the entire group of people that brought this thing together. Then, people in the world will take the finished work and start analyzing it from all kinds of different directions, and we’ll look at their readings and feel like, “wow, that's a really smart and sophisticated reading. I really like that.” Patrick, do you have anything you want to add? 

Patrick: Yeah, it was just a neat shot for the camera.

Q9. You have had quite a few creatures on the show already - Ents, Uruks, nameless creatures in the mud, sea beasts, wights, elves and even a balrog - fans who don’t like dwarves are wondering with how phenomenal the VFX/CGI team has been on the show if we could see dragons in the future?

Patrick: I would say dragons are special and unique in Tolkien. There are some legendary dragons with legendary names. Dragons talk in Tolkien. We'd have to have the right reason to do it and at the right moment. I think it's pretty hard to top Benedict Cumberbatch's Smaug. And there is another fantasy show with lots of dragons. I think the answer is maybe. And if we go there, it'll be because there's a great Tolkienian idea and reason to go there that we have to do. 

[serdtse]

//

[keen-eye]

McGucket: i’ve abandoned my own professional aspirations and have been neglecting my wife and our young son to be with help you make yours come true, i’m utilizing my mechanical genius just for you, here’s a gourd and an axolotl that remind me of you, here’s a snow globe of our lab, here’s six-fingered gloves I knitted for you, i’ve stayed by your side despite being repeatedly traumatized by these terrifying monsters, i’ve put my mental and physical health in jeopardy for our project, i’ve built a memory erasing device so that I can fix my anxiety and continue helping you, *erases your memory* forget I said that, here’s a thesis paper I’ve written for you so you can publish your research and end this dangerous and isolating endeavor, i've sacrificed so much, did I mention I left my wife to be with you

Ford: *keeps truth about project a secret*, *throws gourd away*, *puts you in harms way*, *dismisses your fears*, *frustrated by your lack of commitment*, *takes you for granted*, *breaks snow globe*, *suspicious of your intentions*, *questions your loyalty*, *releases axolotl*, *prioritizes and trusts a triangle over you*, *accuses you of betrayal*, *calls you weak-willed*

(^ imagine the vine boom after each one)