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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!!! I really love your writing 🥺 Idk how this works so Idk if my request is alright so If it's ok for you to write it, I got this idea about Spencer turning into a player/manwhore after maeve died so he's not into y/n in the beginning but the others always joke about how she's totally in love with him and he doesn't believe until he starts to notice little things she does for him(like getting him coffee every morning, remembering everything he says) so he start to fall for her. Genre: smut with soft!Dom Spencer, dirty talk, degradation(please no daddy kink) (Sorry if it's to long, I read it's best for you if we give as much detail as possible so that's that) I'm going to identify myself with this emoji 🥺 when I read the fic or in my next requests, hope I gave you something to write with.

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg this plot has given me brain rot since you sent it in 💀 I accidentally made this a little angst-heavy for the first half but there's a very "happy ending" if you catch my drift. I hope you love it! ❤️

Summary: Spencer Reid's heart is broken. But in healing himself in the arms of countless woman, he doesn't realise he's breaking yours.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, angst, oral (F receiving), fingering, P in V penetration, dirty talk, degradation of you squint a little, soft!Dom Spencer is incredibly soft.

My masterlist with all my other works is here, and my requests are open!

It had taken four whole months before someone on the team had confronted Spencer about his grief, his lack of sleep, his overall dreariness, and they were almost shocked that it wasn’t you that did it. When Rossi had walked up to him, offering a story about his Uncle Sal in an attempt to get him to open up, or at least seek help, the others were on the other side of the glass, shooting looks over at you, quietly enquiring with their eyes about why it hadn’’t been you to offer him that out.

But you had, you’d been trying. You’d been following him around, taking him food every couple days to make sure he was eating, sticking around to make sure that he wasn’t lonely. You’d even cleaned up after him on the particularly hard days, where he didn’t want to move from his bed and couldn’t bring himself to go outside if there was no work, no one else to save. But you couldn’t offer him more, because he already had all of you.

You’d first realised that you were in love with Spencer Reid a few months after you’d joined the team. You’d been bought on as a fresh set of eyes on a case that had a lot more to do with you then the rest of the team had been led to believe.

Your high school boyfriend had been the victim of a notorious highway murderer, and you yourself had been kidnapped by the unsub, put in hell for the following three days and escaped with your life only because of an earlier BAU team, including agents Hotchner and Rossi. When bodies had started turning up on the same stretch of highway, you needed to be involved or you’d never prove to yourself that you could do what they did to save you. That you’d be able to put your feelings aside and catch monsters.

You’d found the man responsible of course, and in restraining yourself from putting a bullet in his brain, you’d found yourself a place on the team, and some peace for a time. And then Spencer happened.

You really should have known. You were always fond of the nerdy type, of men who had such deep interests that they forgot to pay attention to social queues, who had too many cute habits (like purposefully mismatching socks) that you couldn’t help but find endearing. You’d grown close quickly, with the man grateful that there was finally someone to listen to him ramble and not judge him, and you grateful that he also held himself back enough, listened closely and well to remember so many details about your conversations. You knew an eidetic memory helped, but it was the care in the small actions, like buying you the beanie baby you lost as a child but still mourned, that you’d mentioned in conversation a grand total of one time, that really solidly made you realise. You were in love with him and had dug yourself a hole that you weren’t going to be able to climb out of anytime soon.

You’d almost told him once. Convinced that if you just explained your feelings, he’d suddenly feel the same or realise that he felt the same way, too. You’d opened your mouth to let the words run freely, but he beat you to it.

“I’ve met someone, and she’s totally brilliant and I think I might love her, and that must be an insane thing to say considering I’ve never even seen her face.” You’d willed the broken pieces of your heart together as you forced a smile on your face, ready to listen to the man who owned your heart smile for another, live for another, breath for another.

When Maeve had ultimately passed away, you knew that you’d never be able to say those words to him. You weren’t going to be the replacement for a dead woman, and you weren’t going to push those feelings on him when he was grieving. But you loved him and he needed you, so you stayed.

On the nights where he was so angry with the world that his words were biting, on the days where he said almost nothing so trapped inside his brain, in the hours between dusk and dawn where there was no rest for him, wiping away the tears that fell silently and just being as near to him as he needed.

You had some experience in broken hearts, anyways. You might as well put it to good use.

–X–

It had taken five whole months since Maeve’s death for the team to realise that Spencer was changing. He was still the same person intrinsically, ready to spring into a conversation about absolutely anything and everything that interested him at the drop of a hat, still debating with Penelope about which of them was smarter, still being teased in that playful way by Morgan. But there was a confidence to him now that was almost dangerous in the fact that it was uncharted territory for him.

You’d noticed it first on one of your regular coffee runs. The two of your were so serious about your coffee tasting like anything but actual coffee that you’d bonded over the need for a sweet treat, and had been going for coffee before all of your office shifts almost since you’d started. You were glad to have him finally back by your side, making stupid jokes about how many philosophers it would take to change a lightbulb, and actually smiling and laughing with you that you almost didn’t notice anything amiss.

But when the barista who took his order carefully slipped him her number - something she’d been doing for the whole six months you’d been frequenting that cafe - for once, he hadn’t thrown it away. He’d taken a lingering look at the digits inked neatly into the napkin and quietly slipped it into his pocket. You were confused to say the least, but since that night of your almost confession, there had been a boundary between you two in that sense.

It was almost as if, if you didn’t ask questions about Spencer’s love life, it was like he wasn’t out there, being in love. With Maeve it had worked fine because he’d never met her, and honestly, until you’d started trying to save her he hadn’t brought her up a lot. But now, you were too afraid to break your own heart again to check up on him, deciding to let it go for your own well-being.

The others had noticed soon enough. Comments about a pep in his step, his flirtacious manner with some of the female witnesses. He’d gained a few claps on the back from Morgan after closed off conversations that you had decided you were thankful not to have heard.

Because if you never saw or heard what Reid was doing, and apparently doing with multiple women, multiple times a week, then it couldn’t hurt you anymore than you were already hurting now.

–X–

It took seven months from Maeve’s death to realise that you were only fooling yourself this entire time.

Despite his new-found release, the therapy he’d found in the beds of women whose names he never learnt, there was one thing that you could still rely on with Reid, and that was your Friday night Star Trek watch-along.

You’d mentioned once a few weeks into your job that you’d never seen it before, and he’d had this absolutely starry-eyed look on his face in bewilderment, that when he’d half-heartedly suggested you watch it together, you’d leapt at the chance. Since there was so much of it, here you were over a year later, still keeping to that Friday night ritual. You’d watched it together in motels in the middle of nowhere, you’d watched it together over the Christmas holidays, you’d watched it together in the days directly after Maeve’s death, and tonight was supposed to be no different.

You pulled up to his apartment and knocked on the door, and when you couldn’t immediately hear him shout to “come in” from his kitchen as he was preparing the popcorn, you knew that something was wrong. His door was always unlocked, and he laughed at your habit of knocking on the door, insisting that you could just walk in anytime you needed.

Now that you needed to, your hand seemed heavier than ever. You gripped the cold metal of the handle, knowing exactly what you would find on the other side of the door, but still wanting to live in the clear denial of it. You prayed it was something else keeping him distracted.

You let yourself in and were welcomed with the sight that shattered your heart for the final time. There were clothes scattered across the floor, male and female. Shoes discarded in the heat of the moment. You didn’t want your eyes to follow, but your feet weren’t listening as they walked you to the bedroom door, thrust wide open, and you saw him there finally.

“Shit, Y/N, what are you doing here?” he scrambled to pull his clothes back on, to cover whatever woman it was underneath him that day, to make sure you didn’t see anymore of the image that would be burned into the back of your brain for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t say anything. You knew that he had been doing this, doing it to cope, doing it to move on, doing it to feel a sense of intimacy after he didn’t get that with Maeve. But here was the irrefutable proof that he’d never even looked at you with an ounce of the feeling you had for him. You held up the bag of snacks you usually bought to your Trek marathons as a response, the tears filling up your eyes rendering you mute as you finally tore yourself out of the room.

“Oh god, it’s Friday. I didn’t realise…. I’m sorry, can we do a raincheck, Y/N?” He guided you further out of the room, placing a hand to the small of your back to help move you along. Something in you snapped then and you recoiled from his touch, whipping your head up to him and just staring at him with all the defiance you could muster. He had broken your heart, you weren’t going to let him dismiss you that quickly.

“Y/N, why are you crying? What’s wrong, what happened? Tell me and I’ll do everything I can to fix it.” He finished his words, and made to wipe the tears from your face, but you slapped his hands away from you before he could make contact.

“Don’t… just don’t touch me, Spencer.” Those were the only words you could offer in explanation before you turned on your heel and ran straight out of his apartment for the last time.

–X–

It took one month from you storming out of his apartment for Spencer to realise that he hadn’t dreamt of Maeve in the same amount of time. Where his dreams had been full of her asking him to dance, they were now full of you recoiling from his touch, refusing to speak to him outside of your professional work, withdrawing into yourself and crying. The worst ones were the ones where you were crying because he tried desperately to hold you, to wipe the kisses away, but everytime he tried you moved further and further from his reach.

It had been a month of you ignoring him, and he still didn’t know what went wrong. Yes, you’d caught him in bed with a girl, but you knew he was doing that. You’d known from the start, and he’d known that you’d known, so surely it wasn't just that.

Morgan wasn’t helping him on that front either. He’d explained the awkward run-in in his apartment, desperate for some answers and received some pretty curt replies.

“Pretty boy, if you don’t realise what you did wrong, then there’s nothing I’m going to do to help you. You’re on your own until then.” He’d refused to talk about it anymore.

He’d thought a few times about talking to the girls on the team, but you’d been partnered with JJ for the last month on cases to avoid him, and there was a bond there between the two of you that he didn’t want to overstep.

It was in this confusion that Rossi found him again, taking pity on the boy wandering around like a lost puppy in the absence of your friendship.

“Kid, what is up with you again recently?”

“Y/N has been avoiding me, and I don’t know why. Derek said it was my fault because she… well she walked in on something that I’d rather she hadn’t, you know, and I don’t know why she still won’t talk to me because it’s been a month.” He rambled out, thankful that someone was finally hearing him out.

“If I’m understanding your insinuation here, I think I know what the problem is.” Rossi sat back, choosing his words carefully, so as not to startle the younger man. But he was so worked up all over you, missing your voice, your touch, your company, and just wanting you back in whatever way he could get you that he jumped at the very suggestion of answers.

“Then please, tell me, I’m begging you. I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to figure out what it is and I just miss her so much that it hurts.”

“Spencer, you know I usually don’t get involved in the personal lives of my coworkers, but just listen to me now, nice and calmly - and dont try to interrupt me or say a word. I know what I’m talking about, okay?” He gave a quick nod of his head, waiting with baited breath for Rossi to continue.

“The girl is in love with you. Head over heels, in fact, and has been for quite some time. And she was holding it together real nice until you decided to become this casanova and now she is heartbroken,” Spencer looked like he was about to interrupt, to spew out that that couldn’t possibly be the case, but Rossi silenced him with a look. “If you don’t believe me, you use that memory of yours and you do what you do best. Think about it.”

–X–

For the next three months, that was all Spencer did. He thought about every interaction you’d ever had. The blush on your cheeks when he’d introduced himself for the first time (and refused to shake your hand). The countless nights spent curled up on opposite sides of his couch, laughing and crying together at silly sci-fi shows. The way you’d thrown yourself into his arms after a particularly gruelling case, buried your head in his chest instead of anyone else's. The day you’d finally confessed your past to him, how he’d felt your heart beating as he held a finger to your pulse, hand gently holding yours waiting for you to finish describing the time you’d stared death in the face.

You’d noticed the change, but you wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge it fully. Noticed how he’d shoot you lingering glances from across the room, how he’d look like he had something to say when you announced you were leaving for the night. How he’d ask everyone together what their friday night plans were just to hear you admit that you were going home alone in the company of the rest of the team.

You’d noticed, and god had it given you a spark of hope that you wished would die quickly. You’d noticed, and so you weren’t as surprised when he turned up on your doorstep four months after you’d last talked to him, on another friday evening.

“What are you doing here?” you greeted him, the words coming out colder than you wanted them to seem, inwardly cursing yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

“Don’t make me leave, please, I just have something to ask and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Spencer, it’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed so-”

“Do you still love me?” His words cut you off and your heart all but stopped. Your tongue grew heavy, and the inside of your mouth tasted acidic, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fully stomach whatever conversation was coming.

“Excuse me?” you spluttered out eventually.

“Three months ago, Rossi said that you were in love with me, and I need to know that if that was the case, are you still in love with me now?” You expected some cold curious look to be gracing his face, but you looked up to see his eyes perfectly trained on your own, his mouth set in a line, a look of stony determination set on his face.

“If I say yes, what difference does that make?” you tried not to spit out the words, but you had no control over the venom in your heart.

“If you say yes, then I am going to kiss you, and then I am going to spend every last day I have on the planet making up for being an idiot for the last two years.” Your breath caught in your throat, and, not for the first time in front of Spencer Reid, you were stunned into silence.

“So, what is your answer?” He looked down at you again, and you started to see the cracks in his stony facade, started to see through to the man who desperately wanted you to say yes, to scream it at him.

The word hadn’t even fully formed on your tongue before he was crashing down into you, his mouth pleading for forgiveness and wrapping you up in him. He grabbed you and pulled you back into your apartment, whispering into each of your kisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The two of you stumbled into the space, but he never moved his hands from the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his lips brushed against yours again and again.

Your legs gave way beneath you by the time you’d reached the open space of your living room, but instead of catching you, he fell to his knees with you, content for the two of you to just sit there together in each other's embrace.

“You’ve loved me this entire time, and I was too stupid to realise that you’re everything I need.” He kissed your mouth, your jaw, your neck, moving his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you in deep again as you desperately pulled away in search of breath. That only toppled you further to the ground, and he came down on top of you again as well, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself.

And you kissed him back just as fervently when your breath returned, listening to every apology and forgiving him with every touch. His kisses said “I’m sorry,” and yours said “I know,” and that was all the communication you needed for now.

He pulled your shirt over your head eventually, and your skin met the cold tile of the floor, a shiver running up your spine causing you to buck your hips up into his. He hissed at the contact and pushed his bodyweight down further into yours, his legs slotting perfectly between your splayed ones now.

“It took me too long to realise, and it has taken me too long to act on the knowledge, but I am not going to let you go again, do you understand?” he pushed his lips into yours again before you could respond, and you clawed into his shoulders as he started grinding down into your body. His hand trailed up your waist to your breasts, pulling them free from the constraints of your bra, as he let his tongue slide down from your neck to your chest.

“I need to hear you say it baby, need you to say you understand, can you do that for me?” Your body burned under his attention, back arching desperately for more contact as his tongue swirled your nipple into his mouth, gasping breaths loud enough to fill the empty air of your apartment. His stiff cock was firmly pressing against your core now, barely clothed in the pajamas you’d pulled on before his arrival.

“Spencer, yes, I need you, I need you right now, please,” grabbed at either side of his face and pulled him back up so he was face to face with you. You initiated the kiss this time, and you could feel your heart soar at the tender kiss he met you with, thankful for the reciprocation.

“Not yet, baby, not yet, okay?” he whispered in your ear, trailing his hands down to your centre and slipping his hand under your clothes. “So fucking wet for me, baby. Just for me, right, baby?” His fingers found your clit, and he started rolling it between his fingers. He worked slowly enough to drive you insane, but giving you just enough relief that you couldn’t complain.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, yes it’s all for you. Only for you,” you managed to gasp out. He shifted his hand after a few minutes, still pressing love bites down your chest, claiming you as his in the most animalistic way possible. He spread the wetness that pooled at your core around, making sure that his fingers were coated in you before pushing a single digit into your aching hole, thumb continuing to draw circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s my little slut, so desperate for me, so needy for me.” His words shot through you, and you started thrusting your hips up desperate for more friction with his hand. He roughly pushed you back down, pinning you under him with his free hand.

“No, baby, I’m in charge here. You sit back and relax and let me make you feel good,okay?” His words soothed you, the growing heat in the pit of your stomach fizzing in anticipation. His kisses dropped lower and lower, until he was finally pulling off your remaining clothing and replacing his thumb with his lips.

“Fuck Spencer, if you keep doing that, I’m going to-” another sharp intake as he pumped a second finger in and out of you.

“Going to what, baby? Use your words?”

“I’m going to cum, Spencer please, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.,,” you rode out your high with his face stuffed between your legs still, swallowing your loud moans for fear of the entire neighbourhood knowing just how obsessed you were with this man.

“You did so good for me, baby, so good. I love you so much, okay? I’m going to take care of you from now on, okay?” He began pressing kisses to your mouth again, and you could taste yourself against him now.

“I need you so badly, baby, are you going to let me have you?” He started pulling off his own clothing now, removing his shirt and tie, but never once leaving your embrace for too long.

“I love you so much, baby. I’m sorry for not realising before, but I realise now. I was so terrible to you after Maeve, and god, even before she died I was using you as a therapist to talk through my thoughts and fears, but I was too dense to even realise that I was only in love with Maeve because she was safe. I couldn’t meet her, couldn’t touch her, didn’t have the chance to ruin anything I had with her. I couldn't realise that she wasn’t you, that she wasn’t going to feel like you do in my arms. And maybe some part of me loved her, but we were using each other, and I was using her to avoid confronting how I felt about you.”

“And how I feel for you is different. I am obsessed with you, Y/N. I am so madly in love with you that the last four months have felt like hell. I could have emptied myself of all the blood in my body and still my heart would be beating for you. Do you understand?”

You answered in a chaste kiss on his lips, sweet and quick, but as much as you could muster without driving yourself to the brink of insanity getting yourself high on his touch.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want now, okay?” He’d unbuttoned his pants shortly after that and you stared transfixed at the head of his cock poking up and out of them, desperate to see it, touch it, taste it.

“I need you inside of me, Spence, please,” you cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the tender contact, the confession. All the emotions you’d been burying for the last four months bubbling to the surface, dancing around your head as he made you dizzy with desire.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” with the last of his clothing removed he was finally free, taking his heavy,aching cock in his hand and lining himself up with you. With a single thrust, and another confession of love, he gave you what you wanted so much.

“You wanted me like this, baby? So desperate to have my cock inside you?” he plagued you with questions as you adjusted to his size, watching your face for any discomfort as you mumbled out yes after yes.

“Me too, baby. I wanted you just like this, wanted you so desperate and dripping for me that I could slide right in, wanted you like this for me and only me.” He began thrusting then, slowly pumping his cock into you, heavy with each return, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining the ensemble of your moans.

“I love you,” he said again, and with each thrust of his hips, and you responded in kind, matching his thrusts with your own and pressing a kiss into the skin of his shoulders. You were so desperate and needy, so starved of touch and starved of one another that neither of you lasted long. Your bodies were so in sync that as soon as he’d pushed you over the edge for a second time, you could feel him spill himself inside you, filling you completely.

He rolled off you, but didn’t leave you there, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He cleaned you up as much as possible, then folded you back into his arms, holding you again so tenderly that you let the tears flow down your cheeks for a final time.

It was Friday night, and he was here, and he loved you. You weren’t going to let him go again.

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w1shb0n3z · 8 months ago

Text

Alright, so hear me out

(this is another long one. Like. Seriously. It has 2.6k words.)

*yes, I edited this like 5 mins after I posted it just to add some more, oops

Post cannon Labru where Laios tries to help Kabru regain weight

TW: ED, Body Dysmorphia, Fat-phobia, Gender Dysphoria

It turns out to he a huge body image thing. Like Kabru develops a bit of an ED after he gains his weight back and tries to stay "the perfect weight" and major body dysmorphia. But! It's very sweet because hand feeding, of course, and self-acceptance.

I imagine Kabru's blue eyes get brought up when Laios is like "oh, you don't like that about yourself? :( you're so wonderful! What else could you possibly not like! Surely not those eyes ^^" or something

Plus! I'm 98% sure that Laios gains some weight post cannon, so his wrestler build gets softer, which, yay! We love that here! But this comes with its positives and negatives. (Dont he scared by how big the negative paragraph is)

Positive: Kabru has an example of having a healthy relationship with yourself and your body

Negatives (and hold on) TW btw: at a certain point of Kabru's weight gain/ body acceptance journey, where he gets obsessed with keeping "the perfect body" and does everything in his power not to gain anymore, his own twisted view of himself spills over to Laios. He starts to view Laios as a sort of slob or careless person because he gained weight after the dungeon and gained an extra 5-ish pounds while helping Kabru gain. Because Laios can and will encourage Kabru to eat by eating with him with a smile on his face.

What if someone finds out about Kabru's purging?

Yes, Kabru has purged a few times while he was at his lowest. And no, Laios doesn't catch him in the act. He doesn't know until someone tells him about it. Kabru just keeps it to himself with a tinge of guilt. Someone else finds out. I can't decide who yet, but if it were:

Chilchuck - he'd be familiar with his topic because one of his daughters went through the same thing. He keeps secret as per Kabru's request but gives to Kabru straight. He tells him vomiting hat much rots your teeth and only has negative impacts in the future. With Chil being big and tall for his race's standards and him canonically watching his own weight, he talks Kabru through this whole body image thing. Maybe not in the exact way Kabru wants, but in the way he needs

Senshi - he's SO against this. He tries to father Kabru, but his own lack of understanding for why Labru feels this way gets in the way of progress. He urges Kabru to eat and tells Laios what's goin on in hopes of figuring out what all of this is about, accidentally spilling the beans and leading to conflict between Laios and Kabru

Marcille - she doesn't really get the ED thing, but she gets not liking your body (since she never fit in with her "age group" while growing up and wished she physically presented like them). She also tells Kabru that throwing up rots his teeth and says it's bad for your mana and junk. Shes very offput by this whole thing, but she tries. She doesn't tell Laios...on purpose. (Falin also finds out becuase the guilt Marcille has from telling that secret ears her alive)

Falin - my girl does NOT understand. But she's here to empathize. She ends up being huge in Kabru's healing journey. She tries to check in on bim every now and then and uses her own transformation to promote body acceptance

Izutsumi - she doesn't know what to do. She's 17 goddamn it. So when she hears Kabru throwing up she just assumes he's sick, but when she keeps hearing it she gets a little stressed about him. She goes "he's just weird" and mentions it in conversation to someone else, most likely Marcille (which probably led to Marcille finding out in the earlier paragraph)

Mickbell...somehow - is like "dude wtf" and tells Rin about it since he knows there close. He's worried, yeah, but he doesn't think its really his problem. Especially since the two fo them aren't close like that.

Kuro - he finds out and tells Rin as well, he also tells Kabru that he looks fine. He mentions it to Mickbell, yeah, but in a "Will he be okay? :(" way

Rin - devastated. She initially gives Kabru a hard talk...which makes him worse, but hey! She tried. Rin then thinks its becuase of the shame of dying many times and tries to comfort Kabru again. Doesn't work. She tries to get him to eat the things he likes. He eats them, but she can sense the guilt from Kabru. They then have a heart to heart becuase Rin can't stand to see her best friend suffer like this and assures him that he looks fine as often as he needs

Holm - he takes a simular approach as Falin but gets a little more involved. He understands it on paper, but can't image what actually having these issues is like. Yes, he also informs Rin and is the one that told her to try to speak to Kabru in a less...prickly manner about this touchy subject

Daya - She doesnt realise what Kabru was trying to achieve by puking. So she just advises him not to do so and tells Rin about the strange behavior.

How does this affect non-platonic Labru?

Easy!

Well for starters! If they were boning before, they aren't now LMAO

Partly because of Kabru's own body image being trash and his attraction to Laios (temporarily) going to shit after Laios gained some weight to encourage Kabru. Damn that internalized fat-phobia. Neither one of them seems to have a clue what's going on. Let word, seems.

Kabru knows his view of Laios just isn't the same, but he doesn't let it be known that he's aware of this.

Does he feel bad? Yeah. But he only feels bad because he doesn't feel bad. He feels as though he's a shitty boyfriend for harboring such disgust for his partner's figure

Laios catches Kabru stealing glances at himself in the mirror. Staring just a little too long. Laios deduces that Kabru's feeling a little self-conscious after some hard thought.

So, of course, he makes sure to be extra careful about his words. He'd totally be like that one meme (which I can't find) that goes: "damn girl, that ass is wide" "what??" "I didn't want to say fat and trigger your eating disorders :/"

Plus, on the not boning thing, they're busy. You got a king and his advisor, they're not gonna be cranking it up every night! They simply sleep together, in a literal sense most nights anyways, so more sleep isn't anything bad

Additionally, I don't believe Laios has a high sex drive at all. (I personally think he's on the asexual spectrum, maybe because I'm ace, but still)

Kabru won't initiate a thing at the moment, it's up to Laio's sporadic desires to get things going. (It never gets going)

What if Laios discovers Kabru's feelings towards him and the purging?

He's hurt, simply put. He can't understand why Kabru dislikes his body, Laios can't understand why his own body would be such a turn off now.

In the non-platonic vers Laios tries to become "sexy" again. ....He fails horribly and ends up making a fool out if himself. At first he's like, "well monsters do this to attract mates" right after he feels as though he needs to inprove upon himself. Then he goes "no... Kabru isnt a monster, and im not either (unfortunately)"

He pushes that silly thought aside and tries to find out *why* Kabru is turned off by his looks now. His face? No.. His hair? Just got it cut. His figure? ...but why?

Laios goes right up to Kabru and confronts him about it. Kabru being the slippery bitch that he is denies it and goes "lol wtf haha! I luv u bae and there's nothing wrong with u!! ur so sexy and hot haha..."

This, inevitably, confused the shit out of Laios and he asks for honesty. Kabrus actions aren't exactly aligning with his words, and something needs to he done.

[Okay, let's be real here. If Kabru didn't want Laios to know how he felt, Laios' ass would NOT know lmao. This is just for the bit]

Now the purging? Laios is like "dude what? :(" he doesn't understand it. Nope. Not at all. He tires to he supportive, but he really doesn't know what to do with this. It's not like there's a bulimia monster, so he has no real frame of reference.

He's all "but you look fine how you are :(" and "I like the weight on you!" or even "did you know that [this species of monster] finds fat attractive? ,:D"

He means so so well, and Karbu knows it. Laios really is just a dog of a man.

Laios also tries to get Kabru to promise to stop. We know how that went. Karbu agreeing just to do it behind Laios' back because he knows Laios won't find out. He'll cut back on it, yeah, but he has his weak moments.

Eventually, Laios makes sure to only have Kabru serve his favorite meals. That should keep him from puking it up! And Karbu stops after a while. But only because his health is on the decline.

What else?

Two words: hand. feeding.

Kabru throws up? He gets his favorite meals so he won't. Kabru keeps checking his figure? Less mirrors in the caslte and more compliments. Kabru not eating enough or skipping meals? Simple. Laios makes sure he eats.

And how? A little less of Laios sensually slipping a fork full of decedent chocolate cake past Kabru's lips and a little more than a simple "here comes the airplane"

It starts off as Laios seeing Kabru taking smaller bites and being like "oh! Let me show you how to fill your fork! ^^" and then him taking Kabru's fork, impaling a bunch of assorted foods onto said fork, then handing it back to Kabru.

Then it sort of devolved (...evolved?) Into Kabru begrudgingly letting Laios feed him like a toddler while no one else ot looking. My boy Kabru does NOT know how to say no to this autistic man properly.

Laios was like "would it help if I just fed you?" And karbu replied something like "haha! It just might!" And of course Laios did not pick up on that God level sarcasm and went "cool, Let's try it then" and Kabru, wanting to appease Laios said "cool!". Bro was punching air.

(Yes, Laios said stuff like "good job buddy!" "You're doing so well!" "Its tasty, right?" Almost every bite)

In the non-platonic world, Laios would have Karbu sit ever so close to him as he was fed, maybe even in his lap. And of course Karbu would get a peck on the cheek after every bite. And the whole process may or may not turn Laios on. Especially when they're dining on monster. Whoops.

....anything else?

This all ties in with the absurd standards that was set for Karbu and the insecurities he hides within himself.

The whole blue-eye-spawn-of-a-demon thing was already enough for him. But being raised by that moody ass elf was a whole nother thing.

Milsiril, his adoptive elf mom, raises children like she has a monopoly in daycares. She's a serial foster fr. All them damn kids. Raising them like pets becuase you want something to love and depend on you. (I love Milsiril btw)

Anyways.

Kabru was his mom's favorite since his features were unique. Im talkin big bright blue eyes contrasting with rich dark skin, in particular. Plus, he was so sociable! All of his siblings looked up to him in one way or another. He was the star child.

And, you know that thing about elves being twinks, right? When ever Milsiril would check up on Karbu's health, she would use this old elven chart depicting the "average/desirable/suggested" height, weight, and muscle tone for diffrent short-lived races at diffrent ages/stages of life.

Safe to say these charts and texts were based off of elven standards, so everyone was thought to be slimmer, lighter, and more toned than normal. Plus, they're old lol. Instead of updating her charts and buying some from the diffrent cultures and races, she keeps her old one becuase she legit just forgets to replace it and hasn't had any "major problems" while raising her kids with that information so she doesn't think to change it.

What in trying to say is!

Kabru was raised with unrealistic body goals, and when he used to deviate from those arbitrary statistics during childhood he'd be put on diets and stuff.

Also, What if Kabru was transmasc?

Especially when he was a teen, even gaining a little wait made him go nuts. He couldn't get the words "unhealthy" out of his head and started associating it with the word "fat". His mind likes to play tricks on him when he's in the mirror. Exaggerating his figure and making him panic.

So! When he was sick and tired after that weird ass dungeon trip that changed his whole world and he came back to find himself thin as a pin, he tweaked.

He logically hated it because it was unhealthy, but a part of him was satisfied. With the added stress of becoming a Kings advisor, he started to crack under the pressure, manifesting in an obsession with himself. When he started to gain weight back he was brought right back to those check ups he had with Milsiril and those 2, maybe 3 times he was put onto diets in his youth. He really feared he was getting fat and he would just stare into the mirror and feel his flesh beneath his fingertips, searching for some sort of confirmation. All he felt was a bit of a squish, a bit of a give, and that's all he needed.

It was too much for him. His body was wrecked in his eyes. He's supposed to he fit and lean and thin and perfect. How could that be perfect? He looks in the mirror in his private study, wasting the time he could've been spending planning new city infrastructure or working out the kinks in trade. But no. He's here, in his dimly lit room, looking at how imperfect he's become in his eyes. How unhealthy he is his mom's eyes. How disgusting he is in his birth mothers eyes.

He had to fix it. The wound rubs deep, dar past the dermis. And, I guess, much like other wounds that cut a chasm into the skin, you don't really feel it once it severs your nerves. You don't really notice until you see the big, gaping, bleeding, notch where you used to be.

Lol anyways

Whoo boy. He is in hell. He feels like gaining weight makes him look "softer" and more feminine. He hates it, yes. But he tries his best not to let it effect his wardrobe. This whole weight journey really rehydrated his gender dysphoria.

He's used to looking a little androgynous, but with his new weight going to his stomach, hips, and thighs, he just feels as though his silhouette is becoming more girly.

Kabru is found training and working out more. Anything to get his body more boxy again.

He spends more time making sure he looks presentable. Even waking up a little earlier to ensure he vouge cover ready. (Well, I mean, as vouge ready as perpetual business casual can be)

And how does it end?

It takes some time, but Kabru heals. He's 10 pounds heavier than when we were first introduced to him, but he doesn't mind anymore.

It was a long journey full of all sorts of denail and shame, but he got there.

He's still the Light Yagami coded perfect chivalrous boy. He always has been. And Laios loves him all the same. Platonically or not.

Laios was essential in Karbu learning to let go of those impossible ideal and unreachable standards. Laios does not give a fuck afterall, he thinks all human bodies are unintresting beautiful! That dude does not judge. Rember him talking about the orc women in one of the monster tidbit sections? He's about body acceptance and neutrality.

Kabru grew to love his body, not just tolderate it or like it because someone else does. And if it tickles you, he liked the extra pounds Laios gained in the end, too. And if you're here for non-platonic Labru, then Laios may have became a bit of a feeder and has a tiiiiny food kink. Plus, Laios is a huge fan of the squish and Kabru likes how warm Laios is.

I just want to add this in here, also hecuase ive seen it before and i agree, but Laios seems like the type to give dutch ovens. He shows love like a big brother and its horrible (affectionate). This passes Karbu off SO BAD and it's hilarious. He has to sit down and have a very direct and serious talk about "getting too comfortable". And Laios would sit there the entire time like a sad dog and nod along.

Kabru and Laios also wrestle. No debate. They do it to spar, Laios does it for fun, Kabru does it to make Laios shut up. It's great!

Sorry this took so long lmao,, I legit just kept forgetting to write this

This was just word vomit. I've lost the plot somewhere along the way, I fear

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dinsbeskar · 2 months ago

Text

Homecoming (Sauron/F!Reader)

Sauron finds his wife in Eregion when Galadriel is forced to find aid for Halbrand's terrible near-fatal wound, a thousand years after she left him at his coronation

AO3 Link

Soundtrack: a thousand years by Christina Perri (shut up, I know it's obvious!!), If I Could Turn Back Time by Cher, It's All Coming Back To Me Now by my girl Céline Dion, Can't Fight The Moonlight by LeAnn Rimes

Warnings: 18+ only!! Smut!! Tooth rotting fluff!! (Remember to floss!!) Tiny bit of angst (the rest comes later, it's a slow burn!) P in V sex, handjob, Halbrand’s glorious chest hair (I'm amused when we tag for that so I'm joining in 😂), separation anxiety lmfao (no but fr), cuddling, spooning, emotional manipulation (what a mix), tiny bit of rough sex/teeth/biting, praise kink, teasing (the guy is a menace, sorry!), male masturbation, fingering, dom!Sauron (he's a service top, okay?), big dick Halbrand (it must be done, idek at this point)

A/N: hi guys!! So finally, after so many chapters, I have for you: Sauron and Reader's reunion. I wrote In The Dark first, and promised a follow-up, and then ended up writing a bunch of prequels first. But finally, here they are!!

Word Count: 4.9k!

Quick rundown of what to read before this one for context (or don't, I'm not the boss of you!!):

Haunted, where we split them up

In The Dark of The Night, the story that started it all, where Reader fantasises about Sauron and he manages to reach out for her

Evil Will Find Her, Sauron’s POV of the above.

Y'all this is the softest, most candyfloss like fluffy smut I've ever written, what is wrong with me??

When Galadriel is sent to Valinor, you mourn the loss of your friend, of course, but there is a traitorous part of you that is secretly glad that your husband's last hunter will no longer keep you up at night in fear for his demise yet again.

You have not felt him stir in such a long time, you were beginning to give up hope. But one night you swore you could feel him, the ghost of his touch, his comforting presence. And the next night, and the next, until you'd grown entirely accustomed to imagining him beside you, atop you, beneath you.

The quaking in the earth beneath Lindon was barely perceptible, but perceive it you did. It must have come from afar, but what could cause the very foundations of the earth to shake so? The rest of your kin brushed it off as some natural occurrence, but you were sure deep down that these stirrings in the earth and in your heart were one and the same.

So when the High King sent Elrond to Eregion, you figured your best bet was to go with him, travelling further east in search of answers. You knew what you hoped for, but would not dare speak it even in your mind, not wanting to dispel the wish before it had even taken flight.

Lord Celebrimbor was a most gracious host, giving you both rooms and leave to stay as long as you wished. It was so different to Lindon, you thought you might stay a while, and with the building of the new forge, a tiny part of you hoped your beloved would seek out a place where he could practise his craft, and what better place to do so.

The last person you expected to see was Galadriel, whom you thought had arrived safely in Valinor, racing through the city gates, another horse in tow carrying a nigh-unconscious man who nearly falls from his seat as they come to an abrupt halt.

"Enemy lance. Six days ago. We rode without rest. Can you help him?" Galadriel's voice carries to your Elvish ears as you run to meet them, a feeling in your gut that your healing was required.

"Come, he needs rest, take him to the infirmary, I will follow." You say to the guards propping him up.

He's filthy, as is Galadriel, and the first thing you'll need to do is strip him off and bathe him.

You thought he was unconscious, but he turns his head slightly to catch your eye, winks, then allows himself to be dragged away.

A sweat breaks across your body, accompanied by wild fluttering in the pit of your stomach.

Mairon.

Your husband. The husband you thought had abandoned you. The husband you thought was dead. That husband.

You can't fight the smile on your face, the utter joy that is about to overwhelm you; even after everything you'd said to each other the last time you spoke, you still missed him, yearned for him with a fiery passion that hadn't dampened in the eons you've been apart. The utter delight of finding the other half of your soul again obliterated your momentary shock at his arrival, and you hasten to be at his side.

"I'll go see to our guest," you excuse yourself, while squeezing Galadriel's hand. "It's good to see you, mellon nin [my friend]."

She watches after you with a strange expression, bemused that in your hurry, you thought to ask no questions as to how she was back on the shores of Middle Earth.

"Leave us. I can tend to him well enough without an audience." You nod to the guards standing over your husband; any excuse to be left alone with him.

Thankfully they don't need much persuasion and take their leave, the room filling with tension as soon as the door clicks shut behind them.

The thrill of his presence has not faded; in fact what they say about absence making the heart grow fonder might indeed be the case. However your joy is overcast by the malice you threw at each other a millennium ago.

You have no idea what to say, now that you're face to face with him. Your last words were cruel, and you remember them as if they were yesterday; if he has brooded upon your words, he might never forgive you. You pick at a stray thread on your sleeve, avoiding his gaze, which is suddenly very alert now that you're alone.

"No greeting for me, dear wife?" His voice is different, his cadence of speech is rougher but no less silver to the ear.

"I missed you."

"I know."

You step closer, bringing a washbasin and cloth, placing it beside him. You go to feel his forehead with the back of your hand to check for infection, but he snatches it from its path and holds you in place, studying your face intently. His green eyes pierce your soul, and instantly you feel more at peace than you have in a thousand years.

You reach out once more, trembling slightly with anticipation, tracing his face, learning every new contour in case he is ripped from you again.

He leans into your touch, letting you take your fill of him, before reaching up to grasp your face, pulling you in for a tender kiss that makes you see stars, his rough stubble a sharp contrast to the way his tongue softly delves into your mouth.

He breaks away first, his mortal form forcing him to take a breath, the wound in his torso paining him more than he'd like you to know.

"I thought you'd still be angry with me." You whisper against his cheek, heart racing.

He shakes his head slightly, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Never, not with you." His voice is so soft, you barely catch it, his words meant strictly for your ears only; in Eregion, surrounded by sensitive Elvish hearing, the walls really do have ears.

"I've had so much time to think about what happened, and I take it all back. Every word. I love you and I'm so sorry, I should have been there for you." You hold his gaze, searching his eyes for confirmation of his forgiveness, that he will not just say what he thinks you want to hear.

"No, that was the only thing that saved me, knowing you were safe, out of harm's way."

"Still, I should have-"

"Hush, my love, I'm here now and I won't be parted so easily from you again." He means it, you can hear the determination in his voice, but Morgoth's curse has plagued you both for centuries, even after he was banished to the Void, and joy makes way for the dread already beginning to build in the pit of your stomach.

Relief rolls through the two of you, and the very air is lighter as you take each other in after so long. You look entirely as he remembers, perhaps more radiant, more lovely, than his memory allowed him to recollect. Perhaps it is just that he can finally touch you.

He, on the other hand, looks entirely different. Not that you're complaining. This new form is just as pleasant as any other you've enjoyed; perhaps a little coarser, rough around the edges, more hair than you're used to... but it is no bad thing, and you find yourself just staring at him until you remember why he is here.

"Oh, would you like healing, perchance?" Your tone is playful but the tiny crease in your forehead tells him you're still worried for him.

He chuckles, wincing as he does so, pain smarting in his side.

"If you'd be so kind, fair maiden." And with that, he lays back to let you work.

You let him away with a fair amount, this being only one thing of many. You know he's perfectly capable of healing himself of such a wound, and he knows you know, but sometimes it is satisfying to care, and to be taken care of. He did always enjoy your attentions.

"I'm afraid I must get these rags off you, my lord. I cannot possibly see the wound through all these layers." You pull out a wickedly sharp pair of scissors, slicing through the fabric in one fluid motion, moving it to the side to examine him.

Your gaze is already locked onto the gaping hole in his side, but you allow yourself to run your fingers methodically up his torso, marvelling in the thick black hair that populates his chest. Certainly different from what you were used to, but not unappealing in the slightest.

His wicked grin reminds you of your work, and your blush grows with your smile, enjoying yourself far too much.

A little cleaning, some herbs and a healing song render him virtually healed, as well as a little of his own power to speed the process along, but you run your hands over him long after the wound is knitted together, enjoying the feeling of your husband beneath your fingers after so long.

"Did you know I was here?" You ask him softly, your head laying on his bare chest as you nestle into his side on the small cot, running your fingers through his hair.

"Of course. I could feel you, in fact, I was on my way here," he pauses, considering his next words; you wouldn't be too happy to hear he'd used the scenic route, instead of hastening to your side.

"But?" You can practically hear the cogs whirring in his mind, trying to come up with some elaborate fabrication.

"Fate pulled me to the sea. And then it brought me back to you." Perhaps he'd regale you with tales of Númenor another time; right now, he was simply content to listen to your heartbeat, fluttering in time to his once more.

"With Galadriel and an army? That must be quite a tale." You ponder aloud, leaving him space to elaborate if he wishes, but not wanting to press him too soon.

"It is." He kisses you again, this time deeper, rougher, tongue demanding entrance to your mouth as he curls his fingers in your hair.

He has to resurface first, letting your lips part reluctantly as his lungs demand air. It's quite charming, considering how he is so used to torturing you with your bodily needs, only letting you gasp for air when you're desperate, if he's feeling particularly cruel.

"Don't get used to it," he chuckles, overhearing your thoughts as always; you muse over how that used to irritate you, but now you're so ecstatic to have him under your fingertips again, you'd unlock every door of your mind for him.

"I'm just enjoying the difference in dynamic, my love, it's delightful being the torturer, not the tortured." You laugh, as a low growl emanates from his chest.

"Don't remind me," he rolls his eyes before pulling you closer, as if that were possible.

"I really did miss you, love, it's been a lifetime and ten since we could last do this." You lift up your entwined fingers to emphasise the point, which he answers with a kiss to each knuckle, as if in apology.

"I won't be parted from you again, you need not worry," he whispers in your ear, and you want to believe him, but fate has always had other plans for the two of you, and you have no reason to assume it might be different this time.

"Besides," he continues, stroking his fingers through the hollows of your knuckles, "it's not as if I was wholly absent, especially recently."

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, confused as to what he could possibly mean. You raise your eyebrows, encouraging him to elaborate.

"Admittedly it was difficult to manifest myself in two places while I gathered my strength, but surely you noticed me reaching out for you? Touching your mind?" He pauses for dramatic effect. "...and other things?"

"Now I really have no idea, my dear husband, you will need to explain." You laugh at his bemused expression, still none the wiser as to how he could have been with you while physically absent.

"I reached out for you, I could see you, feel you, and I swore you felt me too. Did you really not feel me?" He asks, slightly indignant, as if you could hardly have missed him.

Ah. Yes, now it clicks into place; you'd thought you'd sensed something, or perhaps someone, with you on those dark nights alone. You were right. He hadn't abandoned you after all.

"It was you," you breathe, marvelling anew, "I thought for a moment- you found me, even then, even when you were at your weakest, you found me."

He kisses your palm and holds it to his chest, reluctant to ever let you go again.

"Of course, love, I vowed I'd always find you," he murmurs in your ear, his physical being aching with the reunion of your two souls, electric tingles dancing across your flesh as you trace across his unfamiliar form.

You relish in his closeness, unwilling to be parted from him until-

"Oh no! What you must have witnessed-" You go to cover your face, cheeks flushing as you recall exactly what you were up to when you felt his presence.

He takes your hands and chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. How could you still be embarrassed in front of him, your lord husband, after all this time? His heart swells, taking you in as you squirm under his gaze.

"Darling, you are mine, I am yours, we are one soul, one flesh, are we not?" He squeezes your hands, gazing at you fondly; after a thousand years, your hearts still beat as one, and you meet his eyes with relief, cheeks still heated but no longer with embarrassment.

His fingers travel across your body with the practised touch of one who knows you better than you know yourself. Even after all this time, he knows exactly where to be gentle, where to be rough, where to knead your flesh or trace it softly. He knows your body better than his own.

"You're trembling, love," he whispers against your lips, cocking an eyebrow.

"Anticipation, darling, you did always know how to draw these things out." You smirk, already over the foreplay, wanting your husband to fill you in every way he can, mind, soul, and body, each way just as delicious as the last.

"How long it's been, not an ounce of patience left in you," he teases, provoking a groan as he licks a long stripe up your throat.

"I've done my waiting," you groan against him, "I think I deserve my reward."

His grin grows wicked, as he takes you in, laid bare under him.

"And I am that reward? Surely such a beautiful maiden would prefer-"

You press your lips to his, interrupting his teasing, refusing to let him play his games for now, needing him atop you, inside you.

You roll him over, thighs pinned around his hips, gazing down at him fondly, relishing the view that you've been denied for a millennium. He smirks at you, continuing to grope and knead your flesh, grabbing your ass and thighs to steady you, leaving deep finger marks that drive you wild as you rock against his crotch.

"My lord," you chuckle as you attempt to unsheathe him, his belt proving a challenge for your trembling fingers. "There are still too many layers between us."

He sits up, reaching for your lips with his fingertips, humming against your skin, his small laugh breaking the tingles down your spine with a shiver.

"Well, my lady, we can't have that..." he murmurs into your abdomen as he journeys down your body.

His lady. A phrase that never failed to delight you, to send tingles of arousal shooting through you. The connotation of your vow to each other. That you were his and he was yours.

At the moment, you have the upper hand, pinned atop him with your body weight as leverage, but you'd sacrifice it in an instant to have him claim you.

You lean back a little, keening under his touch, wanting your skin on his, your souls already singing in a harmony you could never forget, even after all this time.

Every breath you take is from his lungs, grasping at his thick brown curls, savouring every unfamiliar sensation.

Every movement you make sends shockwaves through him; the only pleasure he has known in this body was by his own hand, but his wife back in her rightful place was far sweeter.

He's fucking desperate for you, and you can sense it despite his immaculate self control. Your favourite thing in the world is seeing Sauron lose his mind for the love of you.

"I cannot possibly continue my work if the patient is clothed. I'm afraid I need to conduct a-" you pause, pretending to consider your choice of words- "thorough examination."

He fucking growls at you, deep and low in his chest, and you can't help but grin. You roll off him, only to release him enough to help you out and shimmy his trousers off. Instead he grabs your upper arm, flips you underneath him, smirking with heavily lidded eyes, his hair falling over his face.

"How did I know you would do that?" You laugh, wrapping your legs around him as he strips bare for you, finally.

"One thing I will not allow-" he kisses your neck softly before baring his teeth- "is being called predictable."

He scrapes his teeth against your throat before yanking your head back with your hair, the pain smarting through your scalp obliterated by the feeling of his other hand between your thighs.

"You're so fucking wet for me already," he gasps, rocking into your thigh, his cock weeping on your abdomen.

"I've waited this long, I won't wait any longer." You moan against him, taking his cock in hand, running your thumb over the head.

"No, darling, wait, no-" his strangled pleas fall on deaf ears as you stroke him once, twice, before you force him over the edge.

He worships and curses you in the same breath, wanting nothing more than to spill himself inside you. But you've foiled that plan, for now.

"Too soon-" he chokes out, his pent-up orgasm pouring out of him, surging through him, but doing nothing to quench the thirst he has for you.

You stroke him through his orgasm, kissing him softly, letting him moan into your mouth.

"It's okay, I wanted you to come, love," you whisper in his ear, tracing his chest, running your fingers through his thick black hair. "You needed it, you deserved it-"

He arches his back under your praise, kissing your neck, grasping at your bare back, raking your skin with his blunt fingernails.

After so long apart, with a new mortal form with which to grapple, you had a feeling he'd need release sooner rather than later, needy under your touch after centuries only dreaming of you. Now, with his first orgasm out of the way, you could tease him for longer and get what you'd been craving during your centuries apart.

You pluck at his pleasure like an exposed nerve, drawing every groan, whimper, gasp from his lungs, until he is hard and aching for you again.

He wants so badly to be inside you, to crawl into the space between your flesh and bones, your mind and your soul, to simply relish in the feeling of being home with you.

Thankfully you have the same aching need, pulling him closer with your legs, still wrapped around his waist.

This new body feels strange under your fingers, between your thighs, wrapped around you, coarse hair brushing your torso every time he rocks against you, never mind the hardening length that presses against your core.

"That feels... different." You gasp against him, feeling his smirk against your jaw.

"Different as in bad? Or good, my love?" He raises his eyebrows innocently, as if he is asking you about the weather.

"I could not possibly say," you laugh, "we shall have to try it out to see for certain."

"My sweet wife. Moments ago, you were embarrassed that I saw you relieve your yearning for me," he groans as he circles your clit with the head of his cock, "and now you speak of me as some kind of object for your pleasure."

His faux-sincerity in his scolding is so carefully balanced that for a second, you're unsure if he is actually offended. But you quickly realise he is teasing you when he spreads your cunt, ready for his new thick cock.

A whimper escapes your throat as he teases your folds with his fingers, gathering your wetness to ease his way inside you, stroking his cock, unhurried now that you've relieved him once. You regret that decision now that he draws out giving you your own release.

"Please, love," you stammer out between shaky breaths, rocking your hips against his hand.

"Please, what? Use your words, my darling, tell me what you need." The glint in his eye is dangerous, full of promises of rich reward, but only if you can play his game to the end.

"I need you," you murmur, eyeing him through heavy lids, desperate for any touch he will bestow upon you.

The expression on his face is positively profane, lips parted, a thin ring of green lining his blown pupils, sweaty brown hair falling in his eyes. He wets his lips as you watch his tongue enviously. Oh, to be those lips, his tool for such pleasure. And pain.

"Need me how, love? Be specific." His tone becomes harsher as he reaches for your chin, to impress upon you that you will not get what you crave unless you beg for it.

You keen and moan under him, but he is steadfast, stroking himself while he gazes down at you with such longing, such fondness that even in the throes of your desire, your heart sings for him in harmony with his.

"Love, please-" you whine, your vehement desire to be one with him again overtaking your senses completely; it has been a thousand years, too many lifetimes, and he teases you like this?

"Please, what? I need you to tell me what you long for." He enunciates every syllable, the cadence of his unfamiliar accent falling like sweet summer rain around you, his silver tongue plaguing you with its sweet promises, if only you can find your words.

"Need you, need to be close to you, need you inside me, need-"

He interrupts you with his fingers at your entrance, forcing a sharp gasp from your lungs at the sudden intrusion.

"Is that better, my sweet? Is that everything you crave?" You'd give anything to kiss away the self-satisfied smirk that graces his lips, but he holds you down with one hand splayed on your torso as he begins to spread you open to his velvet touch.

You shudder as he lightly strokes your folds, delving in with a finger to make you gasp, working his way to two, then three, whilst grasping the flesh under his other hand almost painfully, grounding himself in your body.

If he could just open you up and slither into the space between your ribs, nestled beside your heart, to do nothing but listen to it beat for eternity, he is sure he would be content.

You arch your back into his touch, trying to work yourself onto his fingers, but he pulls away too quickly for you to find any relief.

"Ah, my love, that would be too easy, would it not?" A smile tugs at his lips, but Sauron fixes his expression into one more akin to concern, perhaps even pity.

"Tell me, love, tell me what you crave." He is drunk on the power he has over you, intoxicated by the goddess writhing under his fingertips, so eagerly in his thrall.

After a thousand years parted from you, it is taking so very much self-control to keep from ravaging you, but he wants to savour every moment, wants to hear it from your lips, your sweet surrender to his control.

"Need you inside me, need you, my love, it's been so long, please take me, I'm yours." His eyes blaze as you struggle through every word, as your breath hitches and your legs shake, his fingers unrelenting in his slow torture of your cunt.

"You are mine - and I am yours." His vow is made through ragged breath as he leans down to claim your lips hungrily, your wetness allowing him to rut his cock between your thighs, so tightly pressed together, that he sees stars.

Sauron kisses at your neck, sucking and biting, sure to leave dark bruises that will not be easily covered tomorrow. Claiming what is his, and his alone.

He pulls your hips to his, forcing your thighs apart, laying his cock on your mound. He is bigger now than he was all those eons ago; he is frankly fascinated as to how you will take him, but he knows you'll take it all for him.

You squirm under him, pushing your hips to his, desperate for him to take you, patience wearing thin for his teasing now.

As if he senses you are at the end of your tether, he smirks, adjusting himself to set the head of his cock at your entrance.

"Please... Mairon, please, I need you." You know what you're doing when you use his true name, know that he won't be able to stop himself from ravishing you, breaking any semblance of self-control.

With a groan, he presses his body impossibly close to yours, sliding inside you, forcing all the air from your lungs as you feel his girth fill you so sweetly, so completely. He draws your legs up to press himself deeper inside you, his hips rocking against yours, rougher and more erratic than he has ever been but satisfying every desire in your core.

Running your fingers up his strong forearms, feeling the muscles tense and flex with each thrust, you grind back into him, whimpering and pleading for more. More what, exactly? You're not sure, but you know you need everything he is willing to give you.

And he wants to give you the world.

Centuries apart, thinking of little else but each other, it is hardly any surprise that you are both ravenous in body and soul, your love and lust building to a towering inferno to spite the gods who would see you parted.

When he feels you tighten around him, he pulls back from devouring your mouth to stare agape at your blissful expression as you ride your high, awestruck that he has you in his arms again. It is that awe that pushes him over the edge again, pulsing inside you, clutching at every inch of bare skin he can reach, your torso pressed against his as he holds you both upright, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear as you quake against him.

Breathing heavily, lying entwined in the tiny infirmary cot, the two of you fall into quiet, intimate bliss. Holding each other close, you let the world fall away until it is just the two of you, the calm in the other's storm.

"I told you. Predictable." You chuckle, your laugh reverberating through his chest, sending tingles down his spine.

"Perhaps predictability is not such a bad thing. When it comes to you, at least." He continues to stroke your hair, giving you a tiny squeeze as if to make sure you were no illusion.

One thing that is predictable, even certain, is that he will be parted from you soon enough. It always happens, even after Morgoth’s defeat, and the notion is enough to send a chill down your spine.

He senses your discomfort, knows what you're thinking immediately without needing to probe your mind for once.

"I am here, beloved, let us enjoy what we have now, and worry for tomorrow when fate reveals itself." He hides his trepidation better than you do, but he pulls you closer all the same.

You look up at him, fingers tracing his chest softly, reaching for his free hand. He grants it to you, would grant you anything in the cosmos if you only asked it of him.

His palm at your lips, you breathe him in before looking back up at him, his dark green eyes alight with the love of ages. The words you whisper next shatter his heart, the edges of your souls knitting together more completely with every yearning wish woven into your plea.

"I beg you, Mairon, for the love of all that is good and pure in this world, please stay with me."

The way his eyes crease and his face lights up with the widest smile, it wrenches your heart, a pain so sweet and pure you would carry it for a thousand years more to keep him at your side.

"For the love of you then."

#sauron x reader #halbrand x reader #annatar x reader #the rings of power #my fic #not a kronk meme reference (kudos to whoever finds it lmfao)#no for real please let me know if you find it i will die laughing

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horse-girl-anthy · 1 month ago

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the leading male characters of RGU have variations on the same complex: "I failed at being a prince." however, they have their own specific versions of it, which manifest in widely different behaviors. I'll run through them, basing my account of the characters on how they were at the start of the show:

Saionji is deeply troubled by Utena's despair, but then witnesses her miraculous transformation. since Touga seems to be more mature than himself, he assumes Touga must be responsible for it. Saionji begins to feel himself a child, lacking in insight; not only was he unable to save the girl in the coffin, but he couldn't even understand her plight. having caught glimpse of a world he can't enter himself, he develops an inferiority complex, which he attempts to compensate for with old-fashioned masculinity, violence, and domination of others.

Miki gets sick, and his weakness forces Kozue to go to the concert hall alone. while she learns from this experience that she requires Miki in order to shine, he comes to the conclusion that he has committed a grave sin and destroyed the sunlight garden with his own hands. this irrational belief follows him into early adolescence, and he has somehow managed to turn it around and allot blame to Kozue as well. perhaps this is because siblings do not have strong ego boundaries, or maybe it's that Miki sees Kozue's failure to be a princess as an affront to his desire to be a prince. this becomes a vicious cycle, since negative attention is good enough for Kozue, who flaunts her naughty behavior to keep Miki fixated on her.

Touga is a two-faced character who outwardly projects the version of himself that he'd like to be. in actuality, though he may not be aware of it, he is a person who wishes the world was a better, fairer place and longs to alleviate suffering. however, he learned his own weakness young; to avoid the terror of powerlessness, he is willing to do just about anything. as Saionji believes Touga saved Utena, Touga believes Akio saved Utena, and so he models himself on him. on one level, he maintains a cynical worldview in which he is justified on acting however he pleases because he has gained power, but on another (deeply buried) level, he hopes he will become a prince and set things right. unfortunately for him, his behavior is contradictory with that goal and will only serve to enforce the status quo. he copes with this using cynicism, pretending to himself that he doesn't believe in nobility anyway.

Akio is like a monstrous combination of the previous three, with one crucial difference: Akio no longer actually wishes to be a prince. he may mourn his failure, but that's a form of narcissism; he doesn't even have the commitment to despair. rather, his "sadness" is a grand show in which he is the leading character. does he have a lingering spark of care for Anthy? perhaps, but he only calls it forth for the purposes of manipulation. long ago, his weakness caused Anthy immense suffering, suffering which has never ceased since. as eternity stretched on, Akio began to think to himself, "isn't this actually her fault? she's the reason I'm no longer a prince; she stole my beloved self from me. and what's more, she isn't a princess, which means she deserves this. in fact, doesn't she actually want this? yes, it's true: both of us love the way things are, and so she will always help me to keep them this way. why, I'm so magnanimous that I'll forgive her for starting this, even though it's so hard for me to bear living in my fallen state." thus, to Akio, being a failure of a prince is a sublime torture, and the scab he's grown over his original wound has calcified, not healing but rotting what's underneath.

the question now is where does Utena fit into this schema? I don't think she's in line with the characters listed above, since she's not living her life based on a failure, but instead on determination to suceed. in that way, I think she's most similar to Ruka, at least in outlook. Ruka tries to be a prince through manipulation and coercion, which is of course doomed to failure, but he is staking his life on his desire to be a prince. Utena, after overcoming her own hurdles, does the same.

#i could have described Mikage too bc i think he has a prince complex at least in part #but his deal is a bit different and also it wouldnt have added much (read my Mikage essay for full description of his issues)#rgu #commentary #idk if other ppl see Touga as i describe him but thats how he is to me

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class1akids · 8 months ago

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I feel like even villain stans don’t want Touya alive which is sad. People say what Tododoki family is selfish and they’re not doing this out of love because Touya wants to die. And they hope Shoto is going to the hospital so todofam can convince Endeavor to let Touya die. (Guess people forgot Endeavor was the one wanted to let Touya die along with himself and the rest of the family stopped them)

Sorry to bring my sadness to your inbox but I wanted to hear your opinion on these takes.

I don't think you can generalize, tbh. Some villain stans want him to live, others don't.

I'm also not sure what people expect. When someone is critically hurt, not dead, you take them to the hospital. Then the doctors will do everything they can. It's been what? Max 2 weeks since the battle?

We dont' know anything. We don't know if Touya is awake or in coma. We don't know if they have a viable process to heal him. We literally don't know anything about his condition or the consequences he is facing yet.

I doubt he is in a lot of pain, considering his nerves died at Sekoto peak - that was one of the points of his character's spiral - he stopped being able to feel pain, and being able to cry. But even if he were, that's a pretty insulting thing to say that people who have to go through painful recoveries should just die. There are many people who battle with all kinds of condition and face painful procedures, because we, as a species are wired to want to live.

Also, I'm not sure why people take at face value Touya's rants at the end. "Die!" and "I hate you all" are just expressing those strong emotions of "why not sooner" he's been feeling since the family came to see him. If we go off from his internal narration, which I would think is more reliable, he wants to live:

We also see his eyes come back when Enji apologizes.

When Touya woke up from the coma after Sekoto peak, he wanted to go home and see if there was a place for him in the family:

And I feel like Touya's and the whole family's arc is unfinished unless he gets to see that change and gets to feel that unconditional love he's been denied.

As for consequences - yes, it's tricky, because Touya did bad things and killed people. But this goes for all the villains. Nagant's kill count is probably way higher than Touya's, and she attacked Deku very recently - I don't see people fretting about her going back to the Tartarus. Japan is full of jailbreakers. The situation is chaotic.

I think it's a very American thing to jump to "he'll be on death row anyways" and "rot in prison forever". I live in Europe, where we don't have death penalty because it's deemed inhumane, barbaric and ineffective. So for me, it's far from evident that Touya would need to face death row. Especially, when everyone thinks he's crazy (All Might calling him a madman may be his salvation), then a plea of insanity can be plausible, with him going to a clinic, like Rei did.

#c1a asks #bnha manga spoilers #bnha manga leaks #dabi #todoroki touya #bnha 425

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staarlight-snow · 1 year ago

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Reflections in the Murky Waters

[Short sequel to Murky Waters - Island of the Slaughtered]

TW: panic attacks (??), nightmares, ig horror, mentioned death

"Well, hoping is the only thing we can do right now.. Why not make the most of it? Right Noah?"

Cody jumped up from where he lay in cold sweat, tightly gripping at his shirt. His breathing was heavy and he felt tears run down his cheeks. He softly groaned – covering his ears with both his hands, his surroundings were quiet but his mind was loud. He winced at every memory, every thought and every imagery that stayed in his mind

"Another nightmare again?" A soft voice spoke, shuffling in her side of the cabin. "S-sorry.. Did I wake you?" Cody asked, moving his hands away from where they were. "No.." Gwen whispered, moving closer to the other. "I'm having trouble sleeping.. It's like every time I close my eyes I can hear him call my name." She vented, staring at the rotting wooden floor beneath them.

"Yeah.. I get the feeling. I have this.. recurring dream." He confessed, picking at the seams of his jeans. "Yeah? Want to talk about it?" Gwen offered, tilting her head as she looked at the boy. Cody took a deep breath and closed his eyes, images flashing in his mind. "It starts out with me, I walk out of the cabin holding some stuff. And I look out in the forest and he's there.. He's alive." He dragged out that last part with pain in his voice.

"I make my way towards him but.." He stopped for a moment. He hated this part. "E-every damn time I could even get close to him.. He gets pulled into the forest.. A-and it's quick! I ran after him, as fast as I could. Every night I go to bed, I try to save him.. even if it's only in my dream.." He breathed out, his voice getting weaker by the second. He's never confided these dreams with anyone before. He never thought talking about them could be just as painful as having them.

"But no matter how I try and what I do.. I couldn't save him." Tears were streaming down his face and his voice was broken. It was a pain to hear it. "Heh.. There was this one time, I managed to get to him in time. I had his hand in mine. And I was pulling him out of the water but something was also pulling him down. He told me 'Let go because it'll hurt more if you keep dwelling on it' I-I don't know if that was my brain telling me to get over it or.. if it was actually Noah.." Cody finished, he opened his eyes and buried his face in his hands.

Gwen moved her hand to the others back to console him. "It takes time to heal and right now, everyone in this cabin needs it but I think our main focus right now is to survive.. There's no point in healing if you know you'll get hurt again the next day." She sighed in defeat. It was like every slither of hope they had was slowly drifting away and all they had left was their lives. "Surviving? What's the point! There's nothing to live for anymore." Cody cried. "Don't say that!" Gwen scolded, furrowing her eyebrows.

"We promised we'd get out together.. And that's what I had going for me.. It's not like someone's waiting for me at home anyway." He muttered in between sobs, moving his legs closer to his chest. Gwen looked at the other and sighed. "Can you atleast promise me we'll both get out of here? You and me.." She asked. Cody slumped over and rested his chin on top of his knees.

"It's what they would've wanted.." He answered. "You're right.. They're our friends, they only want what's best for us." Gwen smiled, to which Cody returned. They hadn't smiled in a while – they never found a reason to anyway.

Maybe this time the world will be fair.

i woke up and immediately thought, "man cody's brain chemistry must've been fucked lmao.. lemme write abt that" HUAHAUAHUA I CRAVE ANGST RAGHH 👺👺 *feral gremlin noises*

anyway this isnt me shipping gwen and cody, unless u wanna view it that way ig 🤨 i just think they'll hv a kind of bond and comfort in one another ngl 😔

#total drama #tdi #total drama island #island of the slaughtered #td noah #total drama au #td cody #td gwen #td noco #noco #tdi fanfic #total drama fanfiction #fanfic #angst #haha trauma go brrtt #tw horror #tw death

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the-last-thread-of-my-sanity · 5 months ago

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Hi Pam!

Hope you're doing well, and thank you for your ‘on the path that led me to you’! 🫂This story is really engaging and interesting to follow, to see your input into canon events, that perfectly fits into the lore and fills a lot of "missing" scenes.

As you've expressed that you would love to have some fluff aside stories Post-canon... Oh well, you know, I'm absolutely weak against AruAni domestic fluff. feat Ambassadors Family.

And I was thinking, if I may ask you to have some small continuation of your other wonderful oneshot, "to save what we have"? Take all the creative freedom you have, just something related to this particular story and some aftermath.

Thank you in advance, take care and wish you all the best :3

Anna!! Thanks so much for the prompt- sorry it took a while to respond! I was very much looking forwarding to writing this, just needed to think of a scenario to put them in. I definitely tried to lean into the ‘domestic’ and ‘family’ aspects of it.

I am grateful you requested this, because I have been finding myself wanting to return to this story/era so much lately 🥰

The story is posted under the cut- I will get around to posting to AO3 soon hopefully.

Update- you can still read below but this is also now published on AO3 as Part 2 of ‘to save what we have’ —> https://archiveofourown.org/works/59811097

“Stop squirming- hold still…” Annie said, glancing up and eyeing Armin where his arm was extended towards her across the table. She pressed the sterile cotton ball with tweezers into the wound across her husband’s forearm. The bullet had carved a clear trail through the flesh right above his wrist- and despite his grumbling she was determined to be diligent about cleaning and redressing it every day.

Armin peered over at her from where he was reading the newspaper. She eyed him carefully, pressing the alcohol soaked cotton back into the deepest section of his wound. He hissed a little through his teeth.

“I know you’re making faces behind that newspaper.” She murmured, leaning closer to inspect her handiwork.

“No I’m not…” Armin muttered back, shaking the paper straight where it had started to droop at the top.

“Yes he is.” Pieck chimed in with her sing-song voice. She was mixing flour into dough at the kitchen counter next to the table. Reiner chuckled with laughter, the bacon in the pan he was flipping over sizzling.

Annie found she appreciated the smell of the cooking meat- she had always enjoyed sweet things for breakfast, which Pieck was obliging with her cinnamon roll recipe- but lately she had been craving salty and savory foods.

Maybe their baby would prefer those kinds of foods, she thought absently as she smiled to herself, passing her free hand over the swell of her stomach.

They had been in the safe house for a week- giving the authorities time to search for the extremists’ base of operations. They were being incredibly thorough at Armin’s insistence. The captain of the guard had ensured them that his men wouldn’t rest until the rot had been cut out.

She knew there was likely to be political fallout from this- the night of the gala was important for a lot of reasons and it represented the results of years of work for the ambassadors and other world leaders allied with their cause. For the event to be cut short so violently would have consequences and potentially undo some of their hard-won progress.

But she couldn’t be concerned about the world right now. She could only be concerned about her world. And right now that was Armin, the child growing inside her, and the four other ambassadors she had come to think of as allies, then friends, and more recently as family.

And all was relatively right with her world at the moment. Armin, despite his grimacing, would heal from his injury with nothing more than a scar. Her friends were resting and enjoying their private time together after so many weeks in the public eye.

And for herself… she was coming to terms with her pregnancy all over again now that everyone knew about it.

She wasn’t feeling as sick as she had a few weeks ago. And despite the more visible changes to her body that had alarmed her at first, two weeks ago was the first time she had felt her child move and it had been so quietly thrilling that it was all she could do not to reveal their secret right in the droll policy meeting they were sitting in.

Armin had spent that night petting and doting on her, transfixed by the growing bump and talking to their baby. She had been a little embarrassed of the extra attention at first, but to see the hopeful smile that lit up his eyes… it made her remember why she had agreed to do this with him in the first place.

She wanted to give him something special- something to make up for all of the things he had lost. Even if it was scary, even if the symptoms weren’t easy. She had taken so much from the world… lives and hopes and futures. But now she could create it herself just by loving him. It didn’t seem real. It didn’t seem possible. Her? After everything?

At the same time, though, thanks to Armin she had learned to accept all sorts of things she didn’t think she deserved.

She finished cleaning the wound and tying off the gauze, smoothing her thumb across the cotton as she delicately held his wrist. Armin placed the newspaper to the side, smiling knowingly at her with the upturned corner of his lips, before sliding his arm from her soft grip and rising out of the chair to come and stand behind her.

She had been bent over the table, and she hadn’t realized how slumped and poor her posture had been until she sat back, feeling Armin begin to massage her shoulders. She leaned her head back for him to press a kiss on her forehead, and she closed her eyes, smiling as she stretched her feet out in front of her beneath the table. She found herself resting her hands atop her protruding stomach. She hummed contentedly as her husband continued kneading the tense muscles around her neck.

She opened one eye at the sound of Reiner chuckling. He waved his tongs over at her, and she raised a brow at him. “Never thought I’d see the day when Annie was pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen.” She frowned a bit, and Armin scoffed good-naturedly behind her.

She closed her eyes again, pressing her hand on her lower belly where her child was moving and kicking. “I’m not the one frying bacon in a frilly apron.” She said back nonchalantly, and she heard Pieck’s snicker as she continued to whisk her batter.

“I’m not about to have grease splatter on my shirt…” He defended glumly, turning back towards the stove top.

Armin leaned in to give her another kiss on the cheek before he knelt down next to her chair, placing his hands delicately next to hers where their child was moving. “How is our squish this morning?”

Annie snorted a bit at his newest nickname for their child. ‘Squish’ had caught on last week, replacing ‘little bean’ in the rotation of terms of endearment. She grabbed his hand, pressing it on her side right below her ribs.

“Active.” She said with a sigh, but the contentment in her voice bled through anyway.

“That’s good… maybe they’ll decide it’s better to be active in the morning than at night.” He added, his eyes lighting up with that infectious enthusiasm.

“How would the baby know what time it is anyway?” Pieck wondered aloud.

Armin straightened a bit to look at her, and Annie could sense from his expression that he was mentally flipping through a catalogue of books he’d read about prenatal development. He read them aloud to her at night sometimes, while she curled into his chest and tried her best not to nod off.

“At a certain stage, they can hear voices and respond to light… I imagine the baby knows when it’s dark and quiet it may be nighttime. Not the concept of night, of course, that’s absurd but… the sensation of it maybe?” He posited and Annie bit her lip to keep from smiling at the inquisitive look on his face that she knew so well.

“Voices, huh? Think the baby might recognize my voice?” Reiner asks.

“That’s not an invitation to talk more.” Annie teased with a glare.

“When are you going to start acting kind and motherly?” Reiner teased back with a shake of his head.

“I could stand to be a lot nicer to you if you would hurry up with that bacon.” She said adjusting in the chair as she crossed her arms.

“Since when did you start wanting meat for breakfast?” Pieck said, starting to roll out the dough with a rolling pin. She turned to Annie with a little pout, and Annie rolled her eyes.

She glanced over at Armin, a teasing grin on her face. “It’s what our squish wants, I guess.”

Armin smiled back at her, pressing a quick kiss to her middle before standing. He crossed over to help Pieck roll the dough into spirals and coat them with cinnamon sugar.

Annie busied herself with packing up the first aid kit for a moment, before all four of their heads turned at the sound of the door opening from the back of the house and heavy footsteps coming towards them.

She furrowed her brows when Jean and Connie practically tripped over themselves entering the kitchen, piling armloads of shopping bags on the table.

“What’s all this? I thought you were just meeting with the dignitaries in our place this morning.” Armin asked, swiveling around to face them and fix them with his own puzzled expression.

“We did- but then we passed by a marketplace on our way back and-“ Jean started.

“And we found the greatest stuff for Baby Arlert!” Connie spurted out, diving into one of the bags and pulling out a tiny quilted blanket.

Armin laughed, rubbing at his temples with one hand as she shook his head at him. Connie only continued to dig out more items from the bag as Jean jostled it back and forth between them- arguing that he wasn’t giving anyone enough time to appreciate the purchases.

Annie bit her lip, reaching out with one hand to touch a small stuffed rabbit. It had silken ears and a frilly ribbon tied around it’s neck. It’s button eyes and nose glistened under the light. She rubbed one of it’s floppy ears between her fingers.

She wasn’t really paying attention to the teasing and good-natured griping around her, as Pieck and Reiner continued to pester Jean for his out of control shopping habits, and Jean continued to pester Connie for trying to take credit for the gifts.

Instead, she ran her fingertips across a tiny smocked sleeping frock that was laid out on the table, before holding it up by the sleeves.

It was so small. Her baby was going to be so small. She tried to imagine a minuscule little person, with blonde hair and blue eyes filling out the little garment.

She felt tears brimming in her eyes, and before she knew it she was sniffling. Had her father ever dressed her in something precious like this? Had she ever been treated like a soft small child who was wanted and loved?

But their baby would have that. Their baby would have Armin as a father. Their baby would have so many people who cared for them.

“Annie? Are you alright?” Jean’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she realized that a tear had slipped down onto her cheek.

She startled a bit, looking over at Armin’s concerned face. She bit her lip, blushing a bit as she smoothed the frock out carefully with her palms on the table in front of her. “It’s just… so small.” She said finally.

“Of course it is, it’s for you and Armin’s baby.” Connie joked and Jean elbowed him lightly.

She felt Armin tucking her hair behind her ear lightly, standing behind her as she continued to trace the delicate embroidery on the hem with her fingertip, blinking back tears and sniffling.

When she finally looked up at him, she found herself standing up to tuck herself into his arms as he pet soothing circles into her back. She laid her head on his shoulder and clutched his sweater in her hands as he laughed a little in his chest.

“Yes, Annie. Our baby will be small and soft and little.” He said, his voice low.

She sighed, slackening a bit. She knew there were a million other words said to her in that simple phrase. About how their baby would be grow up in a world where it was safe to be small and soft and little. About how they were all working to make the world a better place for them to grow up in- but no one was working harder than Armin himself.

She turned to face Jean and Connie again, Armin’s arm still wrapped around her shoulder, and gave them both a small appreciative smile.

“Small and soft and spoiled more like- how much did you spend on all of this, Jean?” Pieck teased, dusting her hands off on her skirt as she finished slipping the cinnamon rolls into the oven.

“It doesn’t matter how much I spent.” He said crossing his arms petulantly.

“Are you trying to win some sort of contest for the favorite uncle before the kid’s even born?” Reiner asked, placing the bacon he’d finished preparing on a plate as he turned off the burner.

“There’s no such contest- but if there were I wouldn’t be worried about competition from you or Connie.” Jean said.

Reiner harrumphed a bit to himself, but sidled on the other side of the table to place the plate of bacon down in front of Annie’s chair.

She let out a relieved sigh, sinking heavily back into the chair as Armin let out a laugh. She was already shoving a strip of bacon into her mouth before she even sat down. It smelled so good, after all, and she had waited so long to eat it.

Reiner crossed his arms at Jean, giving him a self-satisfied smirk. “See, I’m giving the baby what it really wants.”

“This is very sweet of you all, but please don’t turn this into some kind of twisted made up pecking order.” Armin said, his voice already sounding disappointed and tired, his hands hanging at his sides.

Annie smiled to herself as she continued helping herself to the food, each of her friends around her pulling out a chair to sit down and continuing to discuss the baby, and the gifts, and their petty grievances laced with love and familiarity.

She slipped her hand into Armin’s when he settled into the chair next to the left of hers. She traced her thumb lightly over the gauze again as she glanced down at his hand before looking up to his face. His eyes were wrinkled with laughter as Connie held up the frock underneath his chin and Pieck plopped a tiny bonnet on his head.

It warmed her heart to know how easy it was for him to smile. A week ago they had almost lost everything. She had lost sleep over it a couple nights, remembering... dreaming of a different outcome. But all she had to do was reach for him in her sleep, his hand finding the slope of her stomach as he pulled her towards his chest to hold her close. To hold them close.

All was well… in her world. And despite how hard it was to imagine being any happier than this, she knew it could only get better from here.

#prompt fic #aruani #armin arlert #annie leonhart #cw pregnancy #reiner braun #pieck finger #connie springer #jean kirstein #attack on titan #armin x annie #aot fanfiction #i love the found family aspect of the ambassadors #this also counts as papamin and mamannie I believe

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iu-xo · 11 months ago

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"Like we've always hated each other"

Tantrum.

intro part 1 part 2 part 3

It took much less time than expected! I hope it's enjoyable to read, god this is so slowburn, so they still hate each other! But... do they really?

The sun... the sun that comes through the window... the fucking sun.

The most recent being to move into the hotel after its restoration, he was fighting a battle to the death with nothing more and nothing less than the sheets of his bed, nothing new for the king to say the least, In his mind it was the eighth time he told himself he would get up, And this was the real thing, he thought for the eighth time...

When he heard a door suddenly open, and even though he loved his daughter with all his heart, he couldn't wish for anything other than that she would leave him for another hour to rot for a little longer in his nest of depression and procrastination, Which didn't happen that way.

-DAD! I'm sorry to bother you... I know you were still sleeping and stuff! despite being past noon.. But your help would reeeeaaaally help me a lot rigth now!

Even though his body betrayed him and made him want to sink and become one with the mattress, knowing that his daughter needed something from him gave him enough motivation to sit up in bed.

-Whatever you need honey..

His voice was still hoarse and sleepy, revealing his little to none desire to exist at that moment, but surely when he did something he would feel better... he hoped.

The princess gave a happy squeal to take out some notebook pages with lists and colorful crayon drawings, and grabbed one in particular which she put on her father's nightstand while she put the rest away with some clumsiness.

-Today I have an activity planned but I mixed up my schedules with next week's, so I have nothing to start with!

The blonde looked very worried about this problem she had, and Lucifer thought that maybe she would ask him for things to buy and he could just magically appear them, piece of cake.

-So while I fix this I wanted you to put these flyers in the businesses that already gave me permission!

Wait. What?

the angel really thought He could get away with doing this quickly with a little magic trick, but he really had no way of appearing flyers in specific places which he had no idea where they were..

-erm.. Dear.. Can't we just put them in... I don't know... everywhere?

-Nop! Because today's topic is... consent!

She said while making a rainbow in the air with her hands , Therefore, the little angel had no choice but to personally walk through the disgusting streets of the pride ring... his ring. While he was hanging little pieces of paper on the windows of the shops of the ungrateful sinners that owned them. But... it was for Charlie... so how bad could it be, He stopped thinking about how bad it would be and instead saw Charlie's smile explaining how she wanted to deal with today's topic, he saw her eyes full of sparkle and got out of bed.

-Count on me char-char, I'll take care of it!

Charlie smiled from ear to ear and hugged him, leaning down, he had taken Lucifer a little by surprise but he gladly reciprocated

-Thank you.. means a lot.

They both felt a silence after that, it wasn't awkward, it was like they were telling each other without words that they were trying to heal something, And even if it couldn't happen overnight, they were trying, Charlie knew they would make it, Lucifer... he could only hope so.

But after that charlie decided to left the room to let her father get ready, she also had too many things to do, time was against her and she wasn't going to waste it.

-Well.. see ya!

She said goodbye with her hand, while her father did it in the same way, Once she was outside, the angel walked slowly to his closet, looking for something more casual, but ended up wearing his usual outfit but without his white jacket, he rolled up his sleeves and headed to the bathroom to fix his hair, he saw himself in the mirror for a moment, a wave of melancholy drowning him for a few moments, He saw himself worn out, tired.

He washed his face with cold water as an attempt to wash away the draining thoughts, it just... everything used to be so simple for him, at least sometimes... He left the bathroom and opened a window in his room, looking to breathe something other than his own self-loathing, A burst of sulfur aroma was what he found, he sighed, At this moment he missed the aroma of fruit and freshly wet grass... he may not be missing the regime of heaven but... that garden and it's smells sure were something else

He realized that he had gotten quite lost in thought, so he washed his face one last time Seeking to return to reality, and avoiding the hassle of seeing so many faces at the reception... he opened a golden portal under his feet that left him at the exit of the hotel, now he only had to...

walk.

Lovely.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•

-WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT.

A demon twice his size was shouting at him in the middle of the street, the lamb-like demon had bruises he was bleeding and holding the demon's hand that grabbed him by the neck while lifting him off the floor, he didn't seem scared, in fact he didn't feel the slightest bit of fear despite the dangerous situation he found himself in, as if he believed that at any moment one of his exterminators would arrive and take him out of there, or simply as if it didn't enter his head that he wasn't untouchable.

-F-FUCK YOU.. YOU.. FUCKING PUSSY!

He tried to get free even with less oxygen than required, he increasingly gained strength to kick his attacker into the pit of his stomach, leaving him breathless momentarily and falling to the ground, he took a deep breath and before the opponent could notice Adam was half a block away, he may have been out of shape, but he managed to ran into an alley and lean against the wall, while he saw the idiot run past him.

-SHIT- FUCKING- DAMN IT!

He dropped to the floor sliding down the wall, wiped the blood from his nose, then saw the blood on his hand..

Red.

His blood was... Red. Did he feel.. anger? No.. sadness? Of course not.. he was not a pussy.. He felt... To hell with what he felt all this was bullshit and he shouldn't be going through this! He shouldn't be here! He Should not.. he shouldn't be here...he was the first man...God's most beautiful creation! Fuck..he couldn't be rotting in this shit hole together with all these pieces of shit! They all came from him. where is his respect..

Interrupting his internal monologue bar existential crisis, he heard footsteps and unconsciously clung to the wall with his new claws, since he had arrived he had already escaped from five guys who were looking to kick his ass, perhaps a sixth could be avoided.

Humming a catchy melody, a familiar face passed by looking for something, looked at a sheet of paper, then at the shops, Then he approached the window of the establishment and stuck a flyer on it, without realizing the stare he had on him, Although of course, many people had looked at him since he left the hotel, he had had to send a couple flying, so it wasn't something especially peculiar

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

of all the habitants of hell... IT SHOULD BE FUCKING LUCIFER THE FIRST FAMILIAR FACE HE SEES?! This day, this place and all of this it's nothing but a stupid damn joke!

What the fuck is he doing? Hanging ruffles? Last time he tried to sell him that he was such a big deal, what was he doing hanging fucking pamphlets in the disgusting streets full of shit?

The gaze that Lucifer felt on his shoulder felt heavier and heavier, when he looked out of the corner of his eye he noticed a sinner looking towards the flyer he puted on the glass, and an idea crossed his mind, what would be better than advertising the hotel? Well, make it work of course! He could do this, it was just... talking to a stranger! Perfect, and the bad thing was that... he had to talk to a stranger. come on morningstar! For your daughter's approval!

-Heey you.

They both remained in total silence, panic could be seen on Adam's face, had he recognized him? It seemed like no... everything pointed to no, but that didn't stop his brain from wanting to run away and leave him alone in that moment, Lucifer had an ackward face and it shows in the way his eye twitched that he regretted his decision ever since the words left his mouth, but there was no way to take it back now, meanwhile Adam considered the possibility of just running away.

-I see you... watching from there! You can... read it. You know.. it's a pamphlet. They are for... reading-

He could easily smash his hand against his face in an exaggerated way, but this wasn't the time for that, if he brought a guest to the hotel today Charlie would be so happy! he can do it, it was like selling, It's not that he knew how to sell things... but how hard could it be

Meanwhile Adam looked at him with a disappointed face, his communication skills were as deplorable as they had always been, but he glanced at the pamphlet, of course, their fifth class hotel.

-It has everything! You should tell every person you see in hell about it.

Adam's disgusted face spoke for him, while Lucifer sighed, obviously it wouldn't be that easy to bring someone to the hotel in one day, but for Adam everything was going wonderfully since at least he didn't know it was him.

The feeling did not last too long, as he felt a figure forming behind him, heat emanating from near his back, the lamb-like demon feared the worst, and unfortunately he was right.

-To claim to be the first dick you are quite the pussy.

Said a demon behind him, twice his size, Shark-like, It was the guy from before for sure, shit-

-wait. what was that first thing you said?

before the words had a chance to come out of the angel's mouth in their entirety, He felt a gust of wind pass by him but as far as he was concerned, the wind doesn't scream.

As he turned around at the speed of the wind itself, he could briefly see his future guest crashing into the brick wall at the hands of the stupid demon who had interrupted his negotiation attempt, in a moment six wings came out angelically from the sovereign's back to place himself just in time between the two demons with a flutter of his wings, whit one hand he stoped the inevitable punch destined to hit Adam's face.

-Nobody taught you not get into the grown up's conversations... right?

He said this while a grin formed in his face, showing sharp teeth which this guy would remember all his life, Lucifer released the guy's fist to hold his wrist and with a twist of his hip he easily sent him to the other side of the pentagram.

-now. where did you get that phrase from?

When the angel looked behind him he could see nothing more and nothing less than two hooves walking away two meters away

-Shit shit shit shit shit SHIT!

Although Adam's intention was to lose sight of the small man following him, when he looked back all he could see was his imminent arrival to the ground, receiving a tackle from Lucifer, they both fell rolling around as if they were two little children fighting in the school garden

-SPEAK FILTHY CREATURE

He demanded, standing on top of the lamb, despite it being half his size and looking humorous, the truth is that Adam couldn't get out of his grip no matter how hard he tried.

-STOP BEING SO DAMN DENSE BITCH!

Oh God. He recognized that voice, he recognized that stupid self-nickname, and worst of all, he recognized that stupid tantrum.

-how the hell. are you here rigth now.

-Why should I say that to you, huh?!

-maybe because YOU DON'T HAVE ANOTHER OPTION?! MAYBE??

Both continued to struggle with each other, one to escape and one to have answers. Lucifer was afraid of letting him escape and that he could cause some trouble, although thinking about it carefully... he looked at his lamb's ears, his hooves, his eyes and his teeth... now he was a simple sinner, There wasn't much he could accomplish even if he tried, he'd probably be screwed, he may already had taked a few beatings even.

-Well, I have no idea! I hope that helps sucker!

He said and spit in his face, something he didn't thought about properly, or didn't thought about at all, The ruler's face was irritated, as if he were putting up with a spoiled child, well... that's practically what he's doing.

-That's all, Let's go.

He cleaned his face whit his sleve and grabbed him by the collar of his clothes and began to drag him along the sidewalk, he had an exhausted expression as if he didn't have what it took to face this situation today, although he probably wouldn't any day.

-the FUCK. ARE YOU DOING?!

He said, fluttering his black wings everywhere, managing to irritate Lucifer by obstructing his vision, forcing him to stop, to which he grunted in annoyance.

-Well. taking care of you! What else am I supposed to do! It's what I should always do! because it seems like your entire existence is made to cause me problems!

Adam's gaze could be nothing but anger, he struggled away from Lucifer's grasp, which was curious to see due to the difference in sizes, once free he turned around to look at him from the front

- YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, I WAS MADE TO BE FUCKING PERFECT! YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT.

-If you were as perfect as you say, how do you explain this eh! How do you think this happened?! You are not in this putrid pit for being the dick of the dicks PAL!

The lamb growled in exasperation as he stamped on the ground with his right hoof, after pulling his hair looking to escape from his angryness he lookef at the little one in the eye.

- IF I DON'T CARE, WHY THE FUCK SHOULD YOU CARE, YOU PIECE OF CRAP!

He felt a lump in his throat, but not as painful as the lump in the throat of the king of hell himself, Why should he care? Why the fuck should he care??

-Oh then i saw You die a fucking WEEK AGO. and You expect me to see that You are alive and let you wander through hell knowing that any demon is out there KICKING YOUR FUCKING ASS?! A THANK YOU WAS ENOUGH!

Lucifer screamed as his eyes turned from yellow to red from how infuriating he found having to argue with this idiot, he was never particularly reasonable but right now he was more irritable than normal and had no idea why

- THANK YOU?! OH SURE THEN YOU THINK YOU CAN TREAT ME LIKE A CHARITY CASE FOR YOUR BRAT'S SHITTY HOTEL HUH!? Well I have news for you DUDE!

Adam He kicked dirt from the street, dirtying Lucifer's clothes, who coughed in response to the cloud of dust

-im not your fucking guinea pig.

He narrowed his gaze in disgust, looking down literally and metaphorically at his contrary.

-Are you allergic to kindness? or why is it that you can't accept a fucking favor!?

Adam's Contemptuous face became one of intense anger and he took a step forward and brought his face closer to the angel's.

-from YOU? Of course. Good joke.

Lucifer had enough, he wouldn't wait to know where this reunion could go, It's not even worth wasting his breath on... Adam. Or at least that's what he thought.

-you know what? It's fine with me. It's not like you're not used to everyone leaving you, stay like that, as always, stay alone.

The king shook his clothes to remove the dirt, with one hand he snapped his fingers and as he arrived he left, Adam was left with an unreadable expression, he didn't move from there, he just stood there.

still and quiet.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The golden portal opened above the hotel's front door, since he had avoided greeting people in the morning he assumed he could say hello in the aftern.. nigth, it was nigth.

Well, anyways, he would greet them at night then.

Opening the door abruptly without worrying about whether it was timely or not, he stepped into the hall.

-HEELLOOO everyone! How does the night treat you all?

From there you could easily see the bartender behind the bar along with the little maid sitting at the bar playing with some dead bug, on the sofa lay their most exotic guest and a certain deer showed no signs of being close, much to the king's liking.

-we have been better short king, But nothing that a drink can't fix, rigth wiskers?

The feline rolled his eyes but smiled at the end, and began to mix different liquids, When he looked in the direction the king was his eyes widened in surprise

- wow. It looks like you were hited by a truck.

Angel Dust looked in the same direction realizing what the bartender was referring to, It really looked like they had made him crawl on the floor, well, in fact something like that happened-

- someone played too rough whit ya~?

Husk put his palm to his face as Nifty leaned over the bar counter

- I like rough.

She said, sketching a sinister smile, to which Lucifer reacted with a certain degree of displeasure, and Husk put a donut from the bar counter in her mouth to make her shut up for a little bit

- umh.. rigth. Well no, I wasn't hit by a truck, and no! Neither, the other thing. I just ran into a few issues. Nothing to worry about.

While this small exchange of words was going on, footsteps could be heard in the distance approaching faster and faster, ending with a hug from behind to Lucifer's surprise.

-DAD! What happened? It took you hours to come back!

-Oh come on, come on... it's nothing at all! A few small issues, a few hours! But everything is fine now.

While the angel convinced Charlie that it was nothing, sounds of static reached everyone's ears, covering them in the act, everyone anticipated the arrival of you-know-who, it was nothing new for him to arrive in such a dramatic way, especially if the king was there prior to his arrival

-How interesting... I would swear it would take more than a few small matters to delay the big boss.. a couple hours.

The one who had just arrived in the room exclaimed very arrogantly, with a smile from ear to ear per usual , Charlie watched him appear on the spot and waved happily, only to receive a greeting from the deer-like demon in return.

-oh oh oh If you only knew You little shit.

Lucifer smiled evilly knowing that if Alastor ran into Adam again the last thing he would do would be act with that arrogance so characteristic of his

-Honey there is someone at the door.

Vaggie entered the room and to the conversation to warn her girlfriend about the presence of someone outside, so charlie left the two old men arguing to answer the door

-Oh but tell us your highness, what were these "issues" then.

-Nothing that your walnut-sized brain can understand piece of-

Two brown hooves entered, stepping on the red carpet that covered the hotel's entrance hall, to which Charlie said very excitedly and taking small jumps until they reached the area where everyone was, her girl on one side of the stranger and her on the remaining side.

Lucifer's sight changed from being fixed on Alastor to seeing the newcomer and although the king was already prepared to smile at the person to receive them, when he looked at him carefully, the only thing that came out of his mouth was..

-FU- ADAM?! THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE.

When everyone heard who he was talking about, they stayed cold and glued to the floor. With his new demonic form, no one would have guessed that it was the leader of the exorcists in person, or rather... in demon.

-ADAM?!

-adam??

-THAT ADAM?!

-OH OH estás muerto CABRON!

-Mhhh..

After the domino reaction Adam with lowered ears tried to talk keeping his dignity and pride, not very successfully, with a stupid smile on his face he speak

-heey bitchees.. so.. what's for dinner?

You could swear there was the sound of a cane breaking in the background followed by a static sound.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfic #adamsapple #guitarduck #adam x lucifer #lucifer x adam #i liked this one i think

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trauma-bot · 4 months ago

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ouuuu i need the lore... i love selfships so much.... nuze lore please.... if you want..........

YAY YAY YAY. im gonna try so hard to keep this somewhat brief to leave room for any more questions but we'll see how that goes <3

so to preface this E does have a toyhouse bio that you can look at if you're curious! it has a more in-depth look at his personality and whole deal. you can also look at his gallery if you'd like; thats where his references and other artwork for him are stored!

ALRIGHT. RAMBLING UNDER THE CUT

a lot of it is very much to fulfill my weird convoluted fantasy of "what if i lost all hope for a future that i exist in and was convinced that i was going to succumb to the claws of my trauma and rot there forever (basically dooming myself in my own narrative) thus becoming the absolute worst version of myself in what i believe to be my final moments only for someone (two someones in this case) to love and believe in me so much that, despite it all and despite everything that was done to me and that ive done myself, gives me enough hope to undoom myself". i'm normal i swear.

also just generally im a big big sucker for stories about survivors of trauma being there for each other, and in that way i get a lot of comfort from nuze.

SO. NUZE LORE... (once again shout outs to my bestie night for coining their ship name lol)

i guess ill break it down like this, starting with N/E. (alt. ship name being pupE love (coined by another bestie of mine charlie)) E knew N back at the manor and they were close friends then, N was the first person E came out as trans to (by that i mean. N helped E work through his tumultuous robo gender feelings in real time) and N was the only one E really felt comfortable around. (other than tessa! E was also friendly with V back then as well<3)

however, E was also badly traumatized by his time in the manor, and of course Canon Events happen. E, as a disassembly drone, is now much more muted, detached, numbed, and devoted completely to their directive. he's very very very repressed and his specific brand of memory issues as well as the fucked up memory dreams causes him to dissociate and spiral a lot. he also distanced himself a lot from N for reasons even he isn't entirely privy to. something in his hardwiring just told him that N would be safer the less E stayed with him. and N is!!! really saddened by that!!! its normal! E has to learn to not be an emotionless object and actually let himself feel and need and yearn, and N is a big help with that (uzi is as well ofc!!)

i have to skip past a lot of things for the sake of not making this post so many words long but regardless; N/E is really special to me because they are two people who are in a very similar and scary situation and have had to see each other get hurt or even killed in many clone instances in many reset memory files. and its the just. the willingness to love despite knowing what happened to you and even witnessing it at times, to say "this is not all we are" and break free from those iron chains despite knowing how much it'll hurt and how dire everything is. E is so convinced that its all worthless and he couldn't be anything more than what he's used for, while N desperately wants a better life for himself and those he loves, and he's gonna drag E kicking and screaming to hope and healing. <3

NOW. UZIE :3 (alt. ship name is angelfangz)

E is MIA from the squad until like right after episode 3 canonically happens and is found by uzi and N. uzi does not trust E at first not one bit LMFAO. she doesn't hate him but like. her only frame of reference for murder drones besides N is V and J. and also E is like. he's weird and says weird cryptic things and is not exactly the easiest to talk to due to how off-putting and repressed he is. at first E is like "why is there a worker drone. in the spire. and we're all okay with this" but after actually getting more context behind Everything he's curious about her more than anything. he has to be swayed into betraying his initial directive (kill all worker drones. yknow) only because thats like all he knows how to do and would feel aimless without it, but once he is he's loyal to his new directive (help uzi figure out what the hell is going on with this solver business). yeah he treats himself like an object that can only find worth in being ordered around but we dont have time to unpack all of that right now. he unlearns it later i prommy.

uzi is like. spitefully resistant to getting to know E on a deeper lever, but this is uzi "no bonding thing" doorman and she cannot help but care about E and be concerned about his behavior. she will notttt admit that however and stubbornly holds her ground. it isnt until post-episode 4 when E and uzi are fully vulnerable around each other.

uziE is. so so very important to me. uzi has been outcasted and isolated for so much of her life, she's been treated as a weirdo freak monster by her classmates and becomes outwardly prickly and aggressive to cope with how little affection and reassurance she's been given. i know she's internalized it to mean there is something wrong with her that everyone else can see, and its only a matter of time before those who actually care for her see it too and leave her. and i know that the events of episode 4 confirmed it in her mind, that she is a freak monster and everyone was right to avoid and hate her, even though she never asked for any of this. thats a very familar feeling to me- and by extension E. E recognizes the feeling of being made into a monster against your will, of fearing and being unable to trust yourself, and of feeling like its best for everyone's safety to hide away. E and uzi find solace and comfort in each other for that. they dont see each other as broken irredeemable monsters, so maybe they aren't.

im stopping here because holy shit this got long but THERES A LOT MORE LOLL. tldr nuze altogether is very very important to me and i could talk about them forever and ever. they love each other all so much and they grow and heal and forgive and aaaaughhhgh<3 im normal.

#gloom.ask #THANK YOU FOR ASKING AND LETTING ME BE INSANE <333 THERES A LOT MORE WHERE THAT CAME FROM #WOULD YOU BELIEVE ME IF I TOLD YOU THIS WAS THE SHORT VERSION. BC I LEFT OUT A LOTTT OF IMPORTANT DETAILS #that being said...... if theres any more questions...... hiiiiii<333 #long post #im so fucking sorry i tried so hard to keep it brief #murder drones #self ship #oc x canon #sd-e #murder drones oc #uzi doorman #serial designation n

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onyourowndaisymae · 2 years ago

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Yoo I have two request which I’ll send the other one separately but I am in an ANGSTY mood rn sooo yah also been binging ur headcanons and stuffs and I just love the way you write ?? It’s so entertaining lol

AnywY the actual request: can you write like a one shot or headcanons if you prefer of mc who is struggling after the belphie incident ?? Like they feel like they’ve mostly forgiven him and can act normally around him and they’re friends and take naps together but sometimes the flash back just HITS THEM and they have nightmares and panic attacks that can be so bad sometimes someone needs to get Simeon to calm them down. Maybe something of how the brothers react/treat mc and belphie? Idk I’m just thirsting for like MEGA ANGST rn bc my dad made me cry little bit lmao 😭

it comes at night

hello anon! i'm terribly sorry you're in such an angsty mood, though i thank you for all the love-- and for sending this request right as these ideas were on the front of my mind. it genuinely makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work, and it makes all the writer's block and such worth it. i cannot express enough how much i love seeing all the comments, reblogs, etc. as people engage with my work.

anyways. i'm not sure how i feel about this piece, especially with how LONG it ended up being, but maybe that's just my mushy brain talking after looking at it too long. regardless-- i hope you enjoy (well, y'know, in like a sad and angsty way).

synopsis: you thought you would be able to move on like all the others. your body was healed, your anxiety tucked neatly behind a mental wall built to keep you safe. yet something in you was stuck. you couldn't just move on. you were trapped in a battle between your friendship with belphegor and the fear gnawing at your brain as you remembered what exactly he did to you. when the dam finally breaks, your whole brain floods with terror, until you're swept away with it. nobody can save you now.

genre: angst, no happy end, just a big ol spoonful of sadness

word count: ~3.1k

content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, graphic(?) discussions of death, depictions of panic attacks, nightmares, mc progressively getting worse from fear + lack of sleep

it's funny how time works.

you'd been around your fair share of years. you’d grown, you’d changed, you’d spent your entire life looking toward the future you had planned. then you, a mere human, were yanked into an unfamiliar world. you spent an entire year in the devildom– a year that simultaneously dragged on and flew by– and came out the other side a new person. a single year in the devildom has changed you more than the human realm has your entire life. time was a mischievous thing, always leaving you chasing behind in a fruitless pursuit of something you’ll never quite understand.

but, she also brings blessings with her. they say that time heals all wounds. you've always agreed with that sentiment. scraped knees and adolescent broken hearts are swept away with the passing days, trailing further and further behind you until one day you forget to look back and remember them. the pain scribbled down on diary pages or cried into pillow cases no longer stings like a fresh burn. these things are nothing but scars now. time has a special way of patching you up, of rubbing your back until the tears clear up and you can finally see again. that is how it's always been.

where is time when you need it?

she hasn't quite abandoned you, this much is true. cuts and bruises heal over the passing days. your hair and nails still grow. your body still changes, slowly but surely, marching onwards week after week. yet your mind is trapped in stasis. you struggle to break free, but at times the rot consumes you whole, until you’re crying under the covers and begging from respite from the memories.

on the worst nights, you find yourself in the attic again, watching the door between you and belphegor swing open. you watch yourself march towards death.

you can still feel his hands around your neck, digging his claws into your fragile human skin like you're made of sand. the scent of blood-- your own blood, on the floors, on the walls, leaking from your torso and staining your clothes a permanent maroon-- still clings to the inside of your nose. even your wildest dreams could not erase the sight of his smug grin, the way his eyes lit up looking at your battered body.

no one person should have to carry the weight of realizing they're going to die. that's what you thought about when your body hit the bottom of the stairs, when belphegor tossed you down from the attic with a harsh laugh and punted your limp body into the entrance hall. you thought about how unfair this all was. you were just trying to help. you thought you were doing the right thing.

one of the worst parts of your untimely demise was watching the others react. the voices pool together in your head, like the colors of the rainbow twisting together on the surface of an oil spill. asmo's panicked shriek blends into satan's angry shouts, desperate to understand what's going on. lucifer's yelling almost drowns out the fearful cries coming from levi, held back by a very silent beel.

but above all of that, you remember mammon. your first man, the first demon who took a chance on the defenseless little human, rushing to your side and gathering you in his arms like you were about to break. his hand on the side of your face, the tears streaming down his face, the shaky, desperate voice assuring you that you'll be okay and begging you to hang on, okay? please don't leave me. you can't remember if he was shaking or if it was your body's last ditch effort to stay conscious-- maybe both. your trembling fingers intertwined with his. words came out of your mouth, and you're not sure what exactly you said, but he only cried harder in response.

and then, as your eyes shut for the final time, you woke at the bottom of the attic stairs. you had cheated death.

your price? you had to carry the memories.

the world kept spinning. days passed in the devildom. you returned to school, kept on top of your homework, spent your days in the house of lamentation alongside the seven demon brothers. you even got to know belphegor as he navigated his return home. he quickly grew fond of you. that, in and of itself, was jarring. but you returned each and every smile with one of your own. his actions were rooted in his own grief for his sister, you knew, and for that you could not fault him. you helped him repair the severed relationships between him and his elder siblings, stitching the family back together like a prized quilt until the seams of betrayal were sufficiently hidden.

time is a traitorous bitch. why did she choose now to leave your wounds bare and bleeding?

everyone moved on but you. everyone got to wake up in the mornings without a nagging anxiety holding them back. the others could hang out with belphegor day in and day out without a growing feeling of dread popping up when you think you're safe.

he killed you. he was grieving. your blood drenched the entryway floors as he laughed. he has grown. you watched the light leave mammon's eyes as you slipped away. belphie has been nothing but kind to you since that day. you fucking died.

you wish your mind could pick a side. did you forgive him, or did you resent him? was he your friend, or your killer? these answers evaded you in the dead of night as you struggled to sleep again. it was becoming more common for you to lose hours of rest to these nagging fears. who are you? are you even you anymore? did the switch in timelines scatter your atoms across countless universes, leaving the you that looks back at you in the mirror nothing more than a hollow shell?

you thought that you could keep your mind on a tight leash, keep your cards close to your chest as you continued to live with the brothers. you were wrong.

the first meltdown came during a nap with belphie. you had grown to trust him-- you thought you trusted him-- enough to sleep around him. he'd coax you every so often into an afternoon nap. always in the light of day, always your choice. and for many afternoons, you were perfectly content with this arrangement. belphie was warm and cuddly, a perfect companion for a lazy afternoon. he had this way of making you feel safe as you slept-- the nightmares couldn't come when he was snuggled up next to you, when you were sure his actions were ones of affection and not another trick to gain your trust.

one afternoon, while the sun was beginning to set, you stirred under the warmth of the blankets. the body next to yours lingered close, steady breaths lulling you back to dreamland. you could stay like this forever, you thought.

and then you felt it. the gentle graze of a familiar cow tail against your skin.

something inside of you, a dam you didn't even know was there, snapped. a hot flash of panic rose up your throat as your whole body jerked away from the feeling. your eyes shot open and you found yourself in the last place you needed to be right now: the attic. you pulled yourself out of bed before your brain could catch up. colors flashed across your vision as a consequence. you whipped around, disoriented and upset, and spotted a sleeping belphie in the bed where you once were.

a sleeping, demon belphie.

the familiar curve of his horns made your throat spasm as you tried to breathe. the colors flashed in your vision again-- oh god, what a terrible time to be left defenseless-- as your brain tried to drag you back to that day. you could practically see his face shift from relief to malicious, insidious joy as he began to attack you.

"hehe... does it hurt? finding it hard to breathe? i'm sure it must be very unpleasant."

please. please no.

" i have to say, seeing a human face twisted in pain like this... why, it's so much fun that i can barely stand it! i... i can't contain the laughter!"

you weren't quite sure when you hit the ground, but it was loud enough to wake belphegor from his slumber. he peeled his body off the mattress, slow and dazed, as he looked for you.

"mc? what're you... what's going on?"

please don't. this can't be happening.

your lungs collapsed from the weight of your own panic. you gasped-- once, twice, as your vision went in and out. were you bleeding? your hand loosely brushed at the front of your clothes, but couldn't process whether that was blood or your vivid imagination. were you even breathing? your head felt light and heavy at the same time. the wires in your brain were all crossed, sending both resuscitation and shutdown signals to each part of your body. this feeling... this was too familiar.

were you dying?

"mc, what's going on?"

you came face to face with belphegor. your friend, your killer. the demon who had lured you up to this very attic to kill you, now gripping your shoulders as interrogated you inches from your face.

you screamed. you screamed until your brain shut off completely, leaving you in an inky pit of darkness as your consciousness slipped away.

the house was in disarray for several days. apparently, lucifer came in shortly after you passed out, mammon at his heels, to save the day. you woke up later in his bed, the room cold and empty, with a throbbing head and a tear stained pillow. you stumbled out into his office to find him at his desk, lost in some paperwork like always. the solemn look he gave you as your eyes met told you everything you needed to know.

from this day forth, your fear was now your constant companion.

nobody in the house of lamentation knew how to move forward. not you, not the brothers, not the widening gap growing between you all with each passing day spent in emotional limbo. finally, lucifer called everyone to a family meeting where, over the course of an hour or two, everyone came to an agreement to acknowledge what had happened and why, promised to be mindful of this trauma that you're carrying, and move forward like you requested.

silent days slowly but surely filled back up with laughter again. the brothers came back to your side at their own pace-- asmo first, within a matter of hours, then mammon shortly after, then the others in the following days.

belphegor was the last to come around. his silence spoke volumes about his guilt. he had no clue how to comfort you. he'd do anything to repent for his actions. yet that was the way that life worked, didn't it? some actions simply cannot be undone.

but you didn't let that stop you. despite the panic that closed your throat every time you saw him for the next month, you slowly earned his friendship again. you assured him that the attic incident was a one time thing, the remnants of a lost nightmare blending into your consciousness as you awoke.

until it wasn't a one time thing.

the nightmares crept up on you. the first one happened, of course, that same night, as you thrashed and wept into lucifer's pillows. then a week later, another. a week and a half after that, another. the frequency eventually became higher and higher, until you started planning your sleep schedule (or lack thereof) around your new insomniac tendencies. but even you couldn't manage to stay awake forever.

on a bad night, you'd wake up in tears, crying weakly to yourself as you tried to coax yourself back to bed. on worse nights, you'd shoot up out of bed, limbs tingling in fear, opting to spend the rest of the night in the common room until the others woke for the day. on the worst night, you finally broke. you shattered worse than you could have imagined.

you finally collapsed into bed, body shutting down after a three days of minimal sleep. you were starting to get shaky from the lack of rest, and your lack of appetite was upsetting the others. you crawled under the covers and let your brain slip out of your hands and off to dreamland.

what a fool you were to think you'd get by without nightmares.

visions of demonic teeth tearing at your flesh filled your head. you tried to run away, tried desperately to wake yourself up, but their claws sunk into your flesh. the pain was vivid, was real. memories of your death lived underneath your skin, ready to resurface in the dark of night when there was no escape. you fought back as best you could, kicking and screaming and trying to run, but you were no match for the supernatural strength of your demons. you eventually gave in, an act of learned helplessness, and surrendered yourself to your worst nightmares.

you woke up choking on your own tears. heaving, gasping breaths tried to save you, mixing with coughs as your body struggled to hang on. the tears finally gave way to the memories-- hot blood dripping from your torso, screaming faces begging you to stay, your head going fuzzy as your vision followed--and your screams escaped without a fight.

a mixed cacophony of voices came flooding in the room. you'd be touched by the gesture, seeking comfort in the arms of your dearest friends, if your brain hadn't reminded you that they were demons as well. nightmarish beasts with fangs and claws, predators built to rip your soft flesh from your bones and leave you to die like roadkill.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. who's was it? you could not tell. your first and only instinct was to scream for mercy, hot tears streaming down your face as mammon's hurt expression moved back out of your line of sight. your chest heaved with effort. it felt like your whole body was caving in on itself. you didn't even realize you were shaking as you curled your body into a ball. your side hit the mattress with a pathetic thud and you wept, bitter and fearful, as a panic attack kept you trapped in its grip.

you don't know how long you stayed curled up like that, wordless cries echoing from your room and into the hallway, but eventually the sound of approaching footsteps caught enough of your attention to forget the panic, even if just for a moment.

"hey, it's okay," a familiar, comforting voice approached, cutting through the fear like a moonlight on a stormy night. "mc, it's me, it's simeon. it's going to be okay."

you felt the bed shift under the weight of someone sitting down, and you blindly threw your body at the person before checking to see if it was really him. it took you a few moments to raise your head, and when you did, you saw him: simeon, your angel, blue eyes full of worry as he met your gaze.

you cried in his arms until you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

the next morning was miserable, to say the least. breakfast was tense. they all watched you like a hawk, like you were a powder keg about to explode with one wrong move. you couldn't blame them. you were afraid of your own emotions, and on some level, you were afraid of them. your trauma was making you afraid of the very people you cared about the most. these brothers had welcomed you into their home, took care of you as you adjusted to life in the devildom, and yet you couldn't hold eye contact without breaking in to a cold sweat.

the only person who did not watch you was belphegor. he was nowhere to be found during breakfast, nor dinner, nor breakfast the following day. you tried to seek him out, but somehow the avatar of sloth had become a skilled sneak in his silence.

you finally caught him alone on day four of radio silence. you both had stayed home without realizing the other had also skipped school that day-- you, from the lack of sleep eating at your brain, and belphegor, with his usual routine of missing class to nap at the house of lamentation. he was curled up on the couch in the common room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace in his slumber. you decided to wait for him to wake up. you sat down on the couch opposite of the one where he rested and watched him, quietly, like he'd disappear if you dared to blink.

creepy? yes. but your brain was long ruined by sleep deprivation and gnawing anxiety to worry about such trivial things.

when he finally stirred, you gently called belphegor's name. he took a moment to finally look at the source of the voice, but when he did, his body froze as the two of you made eye contact. a few moments passed in silence. finally, he sat up and began to make a move to leave.

"wait."

he stopped, but his gaze did not meet yours. you rose from your seat and joined him on the couch. the youngest pulled his legs in, twisting his body into a defensive little ball, and countered your next sentence before you could even open your mouth.

"you shouldn't be here with me."

"i think i'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

he shifted uncomfortably in the silence. you spoke again.

"i miss you. and i'm sorry."

he scoffed to himself and stared at the fireplace. "don't know why you think you should be apologizing to me. i'm the one that's the problem."

"you're not a problem, belphie. i never meant to make you feel like one."

every hair on your body stood on end. your hands trembled against your wishes, so you sat on them to stay focused. you had to do this. you had to keep moving forward.

"i hurt you, mc. you're afraid i'm going to do it again."

you sighed-- it came out more shaky than you would have liked-- and looked down. how had it come to this? how had someone you'd grown to hold so dear become a stranger again?

"i don't want to stop being friends. i don't like when you avoid me."

"you still get nightmares, don't you?"

you pause. his icy gaze on the side of your head sent you into a cold sweat.

you smiled-- it felt more like a grimace, personally-- and prayed it didn't come across insincere. your fingers carefully intertwined with his. he met your gaze. you were thankful he couldn't see the way your chest tightened when you made eye contact.

"i'm okay, belphie," you lied.

this fear was going to be the death of you.

#i cannot tell if this is good or not i've looked at it for hours #ask answer #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me writing #obey me fanfic #obey me angst #obey me brothers #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me chapter 16 spoilers #otome

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pinkertinn · 7 months ago

Text

My first tumblr post, and it's for Cleon Song Week! am I tumbling correctly?

Day 1: Love

Song: BIRDS OF A FEATHER - Billie Eilish

She was everything to him. The cool side of the pillow in the middle of the night, a soothing touch against his weary soul. Every glance from her was a sunrise, painting his world with golden hues of hope and the promise of new beginnings. She was his dream and his reality, the anchor that kept him grounded and the wings that allowed his spirit to soar. In her embrace, he found his home, a place where every moment was cherished, and every breath was a promise of forever—however long forever was for them.

When she asked him which songs reminded him of her, which tunes should set the stage for the day they would pledge their love, he found it an impossible task. How could he pick just a few melodies to encapsulate the symphony of what she meant to him? Each note would have to capture her fiery boldness, the way she challenged him when he was wrong or being a fool. It would need to reflect her nurturing spirit, her motherly instinct that reached out to those in need. Her competitive edge, the way she always kept him on his toes, would need a rhythm all its own. And then there was the warmth of her touch, a simple caress that healed his deepest wounds, and the magic in her eyes, a mystery he could read like an open book despite her efforts to hide it. Whose voice could possibly narrate the beautiful chaos and whirlwind that defined their romance?

“How about this song? Uhm, Billie Eilish?” She turned up the sound on her laptop, concentrating on the screen. “Think it’s called Birds of a Feather?” Her nose scrunched, and she slightly tilted her head as her eyes shifted to gauge his reaction.

He listened to the upbeat jingle, nodding his head in time with the beat.

“Rot away, dead, buried?” He raised an eyebrow in question. “A little morbid, no?” he scoffed at the singer's angelic voice singing about such dark things.

“Well, you know they say till death do us part… rings even more true for us, I suppose.” Her voice sounded barren, hollow of the sparkle it had when they first started sifting through songs.

And I don't know what I'm crying for I don't think I could love you more. Might not be long, but baby, I Don't wanna say goodbye

“When you think of us, and you listen to this, does it give you anything?” She swallowed down what sounded like heavy emotion, and he realized he wasn’t listening to the song in the same way she was. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know…

Feather…

I’ll love you till the day that I die…

Feathers…

That’s right. Suddenly, it was 1998, and a 19-year-old Claire stood exhausted and disheveled before him, wearing that delicate turquoise opal feather necklace. Despite the rain and the violent struggles they faced, the necklace remained unscathed, sparkling as if brand new. The silver pendant hung just above the dip in her blood-stained cleavage. She later told him that if she had to look Sherry and him in the face, she’d never have been able to leave. So, she left him with a note at the hotel, and the necklace slipped to the floor when he opened it.

I don’t want to say goodbye, and I know we should stick together. But, I’ll be back for this. It’s more your color anyway. -Claire

She was right; the blue of the necklace matched most of his outfits. Blue was his color. When she came back for it, he couldn't bear to part with it. He had it with him when they reunited at that small dive bar, where she cried, begging for his forgiveness. The necklace was pressed against his breaking heart in his suit breast pocket as he refused to hand over the flash drive to her. And when their world began to crumble in Alcatraz, that tiny feather Claire had given him was buried deep in his jean pocket.

If you go I’m going too…

His eyes burned, threatening to spill tears, as he remembered hearing her agony in that prison cell while he helplessly banged the back of his head against the bars. He had been so angry with her that day, wondering why she was even there. But in an instant, his anger turned to fear. The thought of them both perishing there, separated by a prison cell after all they had survived, was unimaginable. Yet, he felt a slight twinge of guilt in his chest, knowing that a part of him found comfort in the idea of being with her forever, even if it meant in death.

Till the light in my eyes, till the day that I die..

"Claire, I—hold on." He pushed his chair away from the table and excused himself. When he returned, he held the delicate turquoise opal feather necklace she had left him 26 years ago. Gently, he placed it around her neck. "Birds of a feather, right?" He locked the clasp and released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Seeing the necklace back around her neck healed something inside him that he hadn’t realized was aching.

"My something blue," amusement lighting up her features as she delicately swept her fingers across the blue stone. "I love you, Leon."

"I love you too, Claire, till the day I die." He squeezed her shoulders and leaned down to place a light kiss in the crook of her neck before sitting back down next to her.

"So, what else do you have on this playlist?" he asked, nudging her and glancing at her laptop.

#cleonsongweek #cleon #claire redfield #leon kennedy #billie eilish #birds of a feather

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zenkindoflove · 8 months ago

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thoughts on Elain having earth powers similar to a green seer (like bran green seer or something to that effect)? a lot of people speculate that Elain has some earth-like magic.

Hey anon, I see you are trying to goad me into talking about ASOIAF parallels again. And for that I say, THANK YOU!

I REALLY REALLY HOPE that SJM has plans to really go nuts with Elain's seer powers. And I think there are a lot of clues that she is going to link some of Elain's magical abilities to manipulating the natural world. It isn't just that she "loves to garden". I think it's really interesting that two sisters went into the Cauldron, one came out with the powers of Death and the other.... well, wouldn't it be fitting if she came out with the powers of Life?

So, I have been exploring this quite a bit in some of my fanfics - mainly Summer Heat which will be expanded upon in much greater detail in the sequel Golden Visions which I plan to start working on in June. I've also explored it a bit with @crazy-ache in our fic Dear Lucien, Dear Elain. But essentially what I sort of head canon is that Elain is able to sense the natural world and possibly heal it (maybe leading to her healing Spring?). In ACOWAR, when everyone thinks that Elain is crazy, she has some interesting lines about hearing the worms wiggle in the earth that stood out to me. It could be that they're related to her visions, but it has made me wonder in what ways Elain's senses are more in tuned with plants and animals around them. After reading HOFAS, I became more convinced that SJM might have intentions to explore some earth powers with Elain - since we find out that Tristan and Sathia Flynn have earth powers, and they are descended from the same High Fae from Prythian. It made me wonder if it was a type of magic that existed in ACOTAR world long before but has been lost and the Mother has given it back to Elain.

Onto greenseers... I'm glad you mentioned that parallel because my brain is ASOIAF rotted so I bring a lot back to that series. But when I envision Elain's seer powers, I don't only see her "seeing the future". With Bran, having the sight and being a greenseer, he was able to see not only the future but also the past and the present (the present mostly warging into animals). The weirwoods gave him access to bend time and see what has and hasn't happened yet. I play around a lot in my fanfics how Elain has different "kinds" of visions, depending on where she is in time. We know from legends that the greenseers of the Children of the Forest wielded powerful magic, manipulating not only the natural world (plants and animals) but having the sight as well. I think it would be really awesome if in her own unique way, SJM blends potential earth powers Elain might have with her sight. I have some plans of how I think it could work that I will explore in fanfic. So I'm excited to see what SJM does with it!

Thank you for the ask!

#elain archeron #pro elain archeron #pro elain #elain acotar #I should create an amanda talks way too much about acotar and asoiaf tag #i already have a plan for another post soon that'll be hella controversial lol #oh well

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trulycertain · 1 year ago

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Favours

Act 2 Tav/Astarion. In which the Shadow-Cursed Lands don't leave much to hunt, Astarion is not having a great time, and Lora proposes a solution. And neither of them have Feelings. No sir. 3.1k.

Read on Ao3

"You're not well,” Lora says, when she finds Astarion at the edge of camp, sitting on a dead log and considering the shadow-rotted corpse of a bird.

That battle was like something out of a tragedy about curses and overconfidence. She ended up flat on her arse in the mud three times, and her clawed-up arm’s been hastily bandaged rather than healed because she and Shadowheart both ended up so drained. Still, that doesn’t explain this malaise of his. Though prying a straight answer out of him was as impossible as ever, best she can tell, he wasn’t injured. Sometimes he goes somewhere else when he’s lost in memory, or working out how to phrase something deeply unpleasant, or scheming - it’s often scheming - and you just have to wait for him to return. This isn’t that. It didn’t just look like distraction on his face when they headed back to camp; it was more resigned misery, like he’d been hoping for something and not found it.

"I'm fine," he says, staring fixedly at where old flesh is starting to pull away from the cursed raven's bones. It looks like despair. That’s the word she’s been searching for: despair.

"You're pale, even for you." She sits next to him, uncorking her healing potion. "And you're -"

"Don't," he says, a hand raised, and hops up from the log like she's burned him, putting space between them. He still won't look at her.

"Have I done something, or are you just going to be evasive and then snap at me?" Not that it would be any different from usual. They’ve come to understand each other a lot more, these days, but still sometimes end up squinting at each other sometimes. He’s a two-steps-forwards, one-step-back sort of friend. She glares at where the bandages on her forearm are starting to stain, and unpeels them. Not a gash anymore, but the last of it is still -

"Don't be cruel." His voice is quiet, the way it only gets when something is very, very wrong; his shoulders are tense as a lutestring about to break.

At first she thinks it's her words, and then... then she looks at the blood staining her arm, and thinks like a vampire. "...Ah."

"Don't - sound like that." He sighs.

Frowning at him, she pokes, "I just want to know you're all right."

"I'm fine, just trying not to tear your throat out," he snaps - and his fangs are a sharp, intentional gleam of ferality in the moonlight. The briefest hint of regret crosses his face, and he exhales, sagging. "Just... I'll find something tonight, all right?"

If she told him how open he leaves his vulnerabilities sometimes, he’d recoil and snap at her. No, he’d snarl like a cornered warg and then flee camp. She knows he's trying to scare her off; he only does that when he's terrified. "What have you been feeding from?"

If it’s possible, he sags even further, all the indignant stuffing taken out of him. "I had a few supplies. Blood banks, bits and pieces. Then I doubled back, at first - back to around the monastery. Then, when we got too far for that, the land around the inn was... helpful. Squirrel has always been, and continues to be, foul. I did just about leave that ox alive, though honestly, it was on its last legs, it's not as if anyone would have missed it -"

"Since we came out here?" she asks, gently.

Now he looks at her, eyes wild and scarlet. He waves a desperate hand at the land around them. "Look at it. Everything here is dead. Decayed. There's nothing to -" He puts a hand to his face, and grits out, "I've got two miles to cover if I want to hunt, and it doesn't - it shouldn't matter. But I am very, very tired."

"And starving." She thinks of his oldest doublet, gold thread fraying just a little at the edges; she watches all those carefully chosen words, that spine-upright, darling, I don’t give a damn toff’s poise, do the same.

"Yes,” he says, through gritted teeth, “thank you for reminding me."

"You could always…" She gestures to her neck.

He stares at her, follows the gesture; he seems to have trouble dragging his eyes away from her pulse, even as his words are carefully level. "You did me a favour, and believe me, it was appreciated, but... I always assumed that was a one-off." His voice is getting vaguer by the second. More hopeful.

She shrugs. "You're my friend."

Lathander knows how. It’s also one of the worst decisions she’s ever stumbled into. But things happen, and then you have a vampire unerringly watching your back and politely taking your “don’t you dare kill them” for an answer, and snorting at your jokes before carefully rearranging his face because he thinks you catching him will make you smug. Hm. Run-on sentences. She’ll have to watch those if she ever writes any of this down. At which point everyone will decry the protagonist for being an idiot, because He’s a vampire. Oh, and an insufferable bastard of a toff who toys with the little people like you for amusement. Also for breakfast.

His eyes snap to her face, as if horror at her naiveté is strong enough to knock him away from the hunger. "It's that simple, is it?"

All right, so he might agree with her readers.

She says, easily, "It can be."

"How are you still alive?" he demands, but he's already stalking back to the log and sitting next to her.

"Some rogue with really good aim keeps watching my back."

He snorts. "Look at that, idle flattery. You really have been around me for too long. Now, not to be gauche, but would you prefer me from behind, or -?"

She's damn lucky she's not one to blush, and that it’s hard to see on her. She offers up her arm, and the two bleeding lines from a shadow’s handiwork.

He swallows audibly, visibly; she watches it in the graceful line of his throat. "That has to heal. If you can't play your lyre because of me, then, well..." He's hiding it, but hunger has put the hint of a glaze in his eyes. "The same reason I'm not asking for your wrist. And the back of your neck would be easier to hide, if you're not in the mood for awkward questions." His eyes skate over her face, her jaw, her neck. For a moment he seems to lose his train of thought again. "You really are unfathomably tall," he manages, with some effort.

Six foot two is far from unfathomable. Still, it doesn’t stop his not infrequent comments on it, or her retorting, every time, "No, you're just short."

Another snort. "On the ground with you, then. If you sit in front of me, I could manage this." Uncertainty blooms in his face. "If you're willing, that is."

That decides it. She downs the healing potion, puts it aside while the warmth of it starting to work spreads through her, and slides off the log. She catches the hint of surprise and something deeper in his eyes as she goes, and does him the favour of looking away.

He never makes as much noise as he should. Maybe it’s the lack of breathing from exertion; maybe it’s a vampire thing; maybe it’s just that preternatural grace, combined with his years of working in the shadows. More and more, as they camp together, she’s growing certain that sometimes he’ll let slip a creak of leather or a sigh just so he doesn’t startle her - or it might just be habit, from back when he was alive.

One moment she could almost be alone in a moonlit clearing save for the feel of a wiry, dense leg against her back - then there’s a whisper of fabric, and leather-clad knees are either side of her. "Just pretend we're swapping secrets and braiding each other's hair," he says, his breath soft on her neck. He brushes said hair away from her skin carefully, in the way of a man who spends far too much time on his own and knows that some things are sacred. "Not that it needs the help; it's rather lovely. High praise, coming from me."

She can’t eye him from here, but she tries anyway. "You're only saying that because I'm doing you a favour."

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just feeling truthful." He inhales deeply, and she's certain he didn't mean to say it when he murmurs, "You smell amazing."

Hells, they've had sex more than once - he's given her so many easy, florid lines - but that, rough and unpractised in a way she's almost never heard him, threatens to bring heat to her cheeks.

And then he bites down, and it's a little difficult to think of anything at all. Sharp pain, not the worst she's had but not pleasant, either. She makes the smallest undignified noise before she can stop herself - a squeak of pain - and at that, feels the softest pressure against her upper arm.

His hand. She looks down and sees elegant fingers almost white against the dark purple of her shirt, his thumb stroking over her arm soothingly, gently. More gently than she would have thought him capable of.

Pain makes her stupid. She's reaching up, closing her hand over his, before she quite knows what's happening. The air between them tightens a moment with his silent surprise, enough for her to think she's made an utter mistake, that he's about to laugh at her - but he doesn't pull away. His fingers relax against hers.

Because she's doing him a favour, that's all, and because he doesn't want to tear a hole in her throat. She sits there, chest somehow aching because of him even as the pain in her neck has subsided to numbness.

That's the problem: without pain, it's all terribly intimate, in a way she tried very hard to forget last time. She sits here, encircled by him - one of his hands at her waist and the other against hers; his chest a line of wiry, deceptive strength at her back, curved close; that coiffed hair like a feather where it brushes her. His face is warming against her neck with her blood -

Hells. He didn't ask for this intimacy. This is a thing of necessity, not like when they've, well. She's not going to make something of this that it's definitely not. Everyone has to eat. He'll never ask again if she comes over like some sort of pervert.

Right. Lyrics to Over the Mountaintop. The first and second verses she has down by heart, the third needs a little work.

Twixt lands they came upon the sea...

It doesn't feel so bad, is all. It should, and yet. And yet. It has to be a vampire thing, some way to lure their victims into complacency - she doesn't even think he knows he's doing it. He's not used to feeding on people, judging from what he said and the dazed way he looked at her afterwards. Dazed and delighted - really delighted rather than the sneering defensive half-smile she's seen so often, eyes soft and startled... ("I feel... happy.") No, that's not helpful either.

By Helm's balls. Over the well-trod path they roam, with rising mists and seas of -

She almost doesn't catch the softest vibration against her throat - a pleased, approving little sound. A moan. And if she thought she was mistaken, they're so close that she can feel the exact way he tenses the tiniest fraction afterwards, as if he didn't mean to do that...

He might actually kill her. She feels her ears burn.

He carefully takes his teeth from her neck, panting a little - for show or just from habit, surely, but his chest is heaving against her back. "They should bottle you. Especially when you blush. Forgive me, I..." The gentlest, swiftest slip of wetness against her skin; she realises a moment late that it was his tongue, and her few remaining thoughts that were trying to cling on are blown clean away. "You must know, surely. I barely remember not wanting blood, but even you have to have an idea of how you taste."

"I, er... It's never come up?" She should have words. Words. Yes. Bards have those. "Except for the time you tried to bite me."

"That was once. Well, twice now." He still sounds a little uneven. The tickle of his eyelashes, the rapidly warming heat of his breath; she feels him duck his head and take another swift drink from her. And then it becomes something lingering, his lips pursing against her skin. He rests there a moment and says, very quietly, “Thank you.”

She's still realising that was a kiss when he's on his knees in front of her, squinting at her. Damn stupidly fast rogues. He says cheerfully, "Feeling all right? Not about to faint on me, are you?"

"I'm fine."

He raises a finger. Unimpressed, she follows it, side to side, and then gives him a Look. A glare is easier than seeing the new colour in his skin, or the way his eyes have darkened to the colour of, well, blood.

Still, there’s a line between his brows, his mouth a little tight, and there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there the first time, when he was busy being relieved after two hundred years of starvation: she’s pretty sure that what she sees now is… concern, though he’s hiding it behind a raised brow and a flat look. She tries not to be surprised. Instead, she sighs, and hums a set of notes, the Weave resonating around her - she blinks, and then the hint of lightheadedness is gone. She’s sharp as a dagger. It’s subtle, but she sees him breathe out, just slightly. Feeling at her neck, she finds nothing, not even a mark.

She says, "And you? Feeling better?"

"Oh, much." He runs a thumb over the corner of his mouth, catching a little excess, seeming too distracted to be embarrassed. He gives it a lick, and she contemplates the trees and the dirt and anything else. All that contemplation does is make her realise that maybe it's not him being distracted, but that he's comfortable with her. That's just as frightening in its own way, if gratifying.

He says, "You know, it's oddly... freeing." Catching her curious look, he explains, "I told you, didn't I? Cazador never allowed us to have thinking creatures. I've never... Someone has never willingly..." He waves a hand. "Offered. You know." He blinks, and looks away from her. "I appreciate the reminder I'm not back in his damned palace."

She nods, because she thinks he needs to say this.

"Thank you. For that, and for a rather enjoyable midnight snack." He's already looking away from her, carefully reassembling his mask.

"Astarion?"

"Hm?" He says it with the kind of airiness that means he cares far too much.

"You only have to ask."

"I know. And that's why I don't want to."

She frowns down at him, and he sits back on his haunches with a huff. "The first day I met you, you forgave me for putting a blade to your throat and then gave me blankets. I tried to steal your blood and you offered it to me instead. You... stop and give your time, your money, potentially your damned life to any wretched fool you come across! I refuse to be yet another poor sap you have to rescue."

She stares at him. "That's not - you're not - did I make you feel like that?"

"No, I did. And see, this is exactly what I mean! You're already trying to fix this."

"You're my friend. I don't want to hurt you."

"That - You're just making it worse. This world will eat you alive and instead you're offering it your - your..."

"My neck?" she asks, quietly.

He just looks at her, all frustrated resignation and embarrassment. "Yes, let's just pretend I didn't stumble right into that."

"The second day we met, a goblin caught me unawares. Gale and Lae'zel were at the other side of the field. The person who found it before it could reach me, who saved my life? That was you. You stay up on watches with me, pretending not to be helpful. You've unlocked doors that helped me avoid a head-on fight. You got me the antidote when I was poisoned and stayed to make sure it worked. You stopped me dropping off cliffs in the Underdark. You've helped bandage me up, even though it must have been... difficult, sometimes. I gave you my neck and you didn't kill me."

He squints like he's just smelled something awful. "You're saying I'm rewarding all your naive do-gooding?"

"I'm saying you rescue me constantly. And that you're an idiot."

"Now that -" He waves a finger. "The insults are what I'm used to. That's much better. Now just call me an 'arrogant self-serving toff,' and we can almost be out of this awkwardly complimentary phase of the proceedings."

"That was once," she mutters. "Usually I'm more creative."

"It was a memorable once," he says, casting a look of fond reminiscence to the sky. "I think it might have been your idea of a seduction technique." His eyes settle on her, dark and shrewd. "Well, it worked." He spreads his hands. "Here I am."

She wants to kiss that smug, grinning mouth. She wants to do many deeply stupid things. But... "Astarion, you need to eat."

With a sigh, he says, "You really do like to spoil a mood, don't you? Fine." He climbs easily, swiftly to his feet. "I'll just brave the undead wilds. I'll bring you back the rest?"

"Please. I can only survive on jerky for so long."

"Hmph. One bloodless deer, coming right up. For my bloodless dear." He grins at her, all fangs and twinkling eyes.

"And you say mine are bad," she groans, instead of kissing him, and fucking him, and falling asleep with that soft hair and that pale, half-warmed skin against hers. He's always gone by morning, but those drowsy moments... It's oddly comfortable. Not a bad way to spend a night.

He winks at her and then sidles back off to camp to get his bow; she watches him longer than she should, an elegant moonlit-white shape in the trees until it's swallowed by the darkness.

This story had a shape, a good simple shape; since she met him, she's had to rewrite so much. She wonders what in the hells she's gotten herself into.

#astarion x tav #astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #blood drinking and pining and whatnot #chaotic good kind of a disaster at love bard tav #lora mctavish #my fic #i think this might've been the first thing i ever wrote with them #back in... september? august?

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