#i just had to get this out of my system - i have a 10k chapter of another fic I need to work on tomorrow 😭 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

celestie0 · 2 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch4. in a mother’s eyes

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 4/x

ᰔ words. 10k (omg a whole number...very sexy)

a/n. hellooo my ihm friends! hope you're all doing well. ahh i'm glad to finally be posting this chapter lolol. it's a littleee off tangent from what happens in ch3, but still has some important plot developments. it does dive into feelings of depression & anxiety, so just wanted to give a warning on that! but yea other than that i hope you enjoy and see you at the bottom!! :) also so sorry if there are errors i only had time to skim through it once :((

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

“Just go ahead and sign right here for me.”

You take the pen from the hospice nurse’s hand. It’s cheap black plastic with a pink fuzzy pom pom attached to the end of it with peeling glue.

Your eyes briefly flit across the paragraphs detailed in printed ink until your gaze lands on the highlighted lines at the bottom of the page. Your signature. Spouse’s signature.

“We’ll need to have your husband come here to sign the paperwork as well, since he’ll have to add your mother on his list of dependents, but we can certainly get started on expediting this process for you since the insurance has already been pre-approved,” the nurse tells you as she accepts your signed paperwork and then neatly tucks it into one of the compartment holders.

The afternoon goes by smoothly, with your mother surprisingly patient as she sits in the waiting room while you wait for the nurses to formally show you to her new room.

You thought that you could put off putting her in hospice for a little longer, because in all honesty, you weren’t prepared to let her go just yet. You weren’t prepared to not have her in the house anymore. But lately, she’s been putting herself in lots of danger, like attempting to take her own medications when she does not know the correct dosing, and forgetting things on the stove when she attempts to cook.

But the last straw was when you came home from a very brief run to the grocery store at night a couple days ago to see a handful of your neighbors out on the front lawn with your mother at their side. She had apparently gotten out of the house and walked down the neighborhood, then fallen on the sidewalk but was unable to get up. When your neighbors had found her, a miracle as they were just coming home from dinner and caught sight of her in the illumination of their headlights, they tried to help her get up but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even tell the firefighters that came by to help her what her name was, or what year it was, or where she lived.

It was when you realized you couldn’t even keep her safe anymore that you had to let go.

“Is that a wedding ring?” your mother asks, pointing a trembling finger to it as she lays tucked inside her new hospice bed, “are you married?”

You glance down at the ring Gojo gave you in the courthouse, almost surprised to find that you were still wearing it in good faith. “Yes, mom. I am.”

“Why am I here?” she asks you, “I don’t want to be here.”

You stiffen a little. Although you were mentally preparing yourself to answer these questions, the preparation didn’t make it any easier. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just for a little short while, okay? The doctors want to run some tests on you.”

“Who are you married to?” she asks.

“To Satoru,” you tell her, “our neighbor.”

She lets out a small gasp. “The sweet boy who fixed our A/C?”

You roll your eyes. not sure why your mother has hyper fixated on that memory with Gojo when most days she’ll look at you like you’re a stranger. “Yes mom.”

“Oh, I like him,” she tells you with an affectionate nod. She hesitates slightly, wearisome of some other thought that flashes through her mind. “How long have you been married?”

You let out a small sigh. This is already a conversation you had with her a couple days ago, and it doesn’t feel good to lie to her. It was hard enough to do once, but to have to constantly lie to her over and over again over all the smallest things just so that she stays calm and safe and happy seems to drain you of all your energy and happiness you had left in your bones.

Little white lies, that’s what they are. Harmless ones. That’s what you tell yourself to absolve yourself of the guilt.

“I’ll come back soon, okay? I’ll tell you more about him some other day,” you say to her, speaking gently in the way an adult would speak to a child. The way she used to speak to you. You could never exactly pinpoint when those roles became reversed.

You finish discussing some more insurance matters with the front-desk nurse as she puts together a small folder of documents for you. While she works, you glance at the little counter shelf that includes a plethora of pamphlets on how to deal with the complicated feelings that arise from putting a loved one in hospice care, and dealing with the emotions of having a relative with advanced stage dementia. They are pretty brochures, lovingly creased at the folds as if looked through multiple times by people who walk in and out of this facility, but seemingly only few take them home. You slip one of each into your folder when the nurse hands it to you, manage the best smile possible, and then turn on your heel to head out the hospice doors.

The sun is setting outside as you take the walk back to your car, which was purposefully parked a half mile away to afford you the luxury of a melancholic stroll. Somehow, you feel like you’ve left a piece of yourself back at the hospice. A feeling you can’t quite shake from your bones.

Your feet stop walking somewhere along the sidewalk on their own, the street lights above you flickering brighter into life as the sky is now a dusty gray with only streaks of purple. There’s a liquor store you spot across a small parking lot to your right, and you’re guided towards it, but not without a sickening feeling in your chest.

When you open the door, the bell at the top jingles, and you glance to the right where you see a lanky young man playing some sort of shooter game on his phone by the cash register. You grab a bottle of vodka, a bottle of white wine, some packs of skittles, one of the mini pizza boxes at the hot food station, and then dump it all onto the counter.

The young man scans all your items without even so much as sparing you a glance, but does take a look at your ID, then says, “Total’s $68.65, cash or card?”

“Card.”

Just before you tap your card, something displayed behind the cashier counter catches your eye. Something familiar, something tempting, something you weigh in your head about twenty times within one millisecond all due to the cortisol coursing through your veins and you eventually say, “Uh, and could I get one of those, too?”

The cashier looks behind himself to what you’re pointing at before turning around. “Sure.”

The same jingle is heard on top of your head as you leave the store, now with a burning hot mini pizza box in your hand as well as a plastic bag that carries your candy and the two clinking bottles of alcohol.

“Oh!! omg, y/n,” you hear a feminine voice call out and you’re instantly wincing. The last thing you wanted was to be bothered right now. You just wanted to go home and get drunk and then pass out on the floor of your living room. But alas, the world is small.

You turn around to see Hana come running across the sidewalk lot towards you, and when she’s about a few feet away, she glances down at your hands and all the things you were carrying. You quickly shove your last-minute purchase into your jacket pocket with a shameful conscience, and try to hide the plastic bag of liquor behind your calves. There was no hiding the pizza box, but at least that was the least incriminating.

“Oh, Hana, wow! What a coincidence seeing you here,” you say to her, pressing your lips into a small smile.

“Yeah, I um,” she points over her shoulder towards the hospice that’s standing tall in the darkness of night, cells with windows illuminated with light. If you didn’t know any better, you would think it was a prison. “Remember I told you my friend’s mom is sick and she’s at this hospice?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I was just visiting her mom with her,” she tells you.

“Aw,” you comment, “I see, I see.”

You adore Hana, you really do. She was there for you when the whole Yuna and Choso thing went down, picking your shifts up for a good week when you couldn’t stomach going into work when your ex-best friend’s stupid face was gloating in the halls over how she stole your boyfriend. Hana was there for you when you were a new hire and all the doctors were being bitchy about a “newbie in the ED”, but she stood up for you, even cussed the fuck out of one of attendings for the whole hall to hear when you were being disrespected by one of them. She’s someone you can beam about how hot the EMT and Firefighter men that stroll into the ED are, too. A priceless companion.

And even though you two have hung out after hours sometimes, it was still always a little awkward to see a coworker outside of work.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I actually, um, was going to tell you at our shift tomorrow, but I just admitted my mom to the hospice too,” you say, “and…thanks a lot for telling me about it. I really appreciate it. It seems like a wonderful facility.”

Her eyes briefly widen with surprise before they soften once again. “Oh, that’s wonderful, love. I hope all goes well. And your little insurance scam worked! Good for you!”

“Shhh,” you hiss at her, looking around yourself with paranoia, “the feds are everywhere.”

She laughs, sweet in the air, before the sound settles and she looks at you with something reminiscent of well-intentioned concern. Her eyes flit to the plastic bag you were still holding behind your legs. “Hey…um, if…if you ever want some company when you come to visit your mom, just let me know. I hope you know you don’t have to do everything alone.”

You blink at her, sucking in a short breath to respond, but it only leaves you as a slight puff of air. There’s a silent gratitude that you give her, because it’s hard for you to express any feelings with words, but you’ve found that the people in your life who know you best can always read you without them.

“Thank you, Hana,” you manage to say with a slight croak to your voice because you were fighting back tears.

She smiles at you. “Take care, okay? And see ya tomorroooowwwwww,” she coos at you, coming up to you to give you a small hug, a squeeze of your upper arm, and then she heads back towards the direction of the hospice.

You watch her walk away until you can’t see her anymore. And then you head towards your car.

When you arrive at your neighborhood, you park in front of Gojo’s house. You have a feeling that you won’t be able to bear the vast emptiness of your home now that your mother is elsewhere, and so you drag your feet up the stone stairs of his house with a heavy heart instead.

The spare key that he gave you weakly pushes into the keyhole with about as much force as your fingers can manage, and you realize they almost feel atrophied.

The house is dark when you step inside, spare for the ambient street lights shining through cracked open blinds on the windows, and the curtains rustle gently from the draft of the AC, a chill that reaches you too by the time you make it to the staircase.

It doesn’t seem like Gojo’s home. A glance at the clock tells you it’s close to 8pm. You briefly consider texting him to ask where he’s at, why he’s out so late, when he’ll be home, and what’s for dinner, but you can’t even bring yourself to pull your phone out of your coat pocket.

Weak legs manage to take you upstairs and you’re about to pass through to your room when the slightly open door to the master bedroom taunts you, like a peephole into some other wordly dimension. Like the wardrobe in the chronicles of Narnia. A portal into your fake husband’s life.

With a palm pushing on the door, you slowly crack it open, and you know the anxious voices in your head are getting worse by the day when the creaking of the door hinges sounds like a lullaby to you.

Was this an invasion of privacy? And did you really care if it was?

The room is big, with a king sized bed off to the left, sheets neatly made and duvet primly tucked under, like the way hotel beds are set up. You feel a slight flush of embarrassment when you remember you haven’t been making your bed in the mornings for the past couple days you’ve been living here so far, and you wonder if Gojo would judge you for something like that. If he’d think you were a messy or undisciplined person. If he would think less of you.

Truthfully, in a lot of ways, you still felt like a child. You barely weathered a lot of your formative adolescent years when dealing with your parents’ divorce, and you’ve had to put so much of your life on pause to take care of your mom ever since she got diagnosed. So here you were, in the body of a 29-year-old woman, yet still feeling so painfully juvenile. One that forgets to make her bed in the mornings, and on most nights can’t seem to stomach anything other than cereal for dinner. It was like you were still at a party that everyone else had left, except all it ever was is hell. Your life was such a stark contrast to the lives of other adults you’ve come across. The ones that wake up at six to go on runs, the ones that have paid off mortgages with five figures in their retirement accounts, oh god, the ones that meal prep, and the ones that, all things considered, have their lives together. The ones that don’t spend at least an hour of every day, in fetal position on their bed, sobbing until tears soak through the sheets of the pillow down to the feathers like bone, because you’re so overwhelmed with stress and preparing yourself for the grief of losing your mother which you know that, no matter how hard you try to save her from, will inevitably one day come.

You used to cook dinner every night, make your bed every morning, and go to pilates on the weekends. Back when you were a little younger and healed and excited to live life. But now, you barely get by. Your priorities are with your mother. You can’t remember the last time you did anything nice for yourself, including something as simple as the luxury of getting to come home to a clean house because you hardly ever had time to clean it, not with all the doctor’s appointments you were driving your mother to, not with all the extra shifts you were picking up at the hospital to pay off your debt, not with all the times you felt too depressed to even get out of bed.

But your mother is in hospice now, so you’ve made time, right? You’ve made the decision that everyone in your life has been begging you to finally do. So why do you still feel so empty inside?

By a quick survey of the room, you notice Gojo doesn’t really have many framed photos hung up on the walls or perched up on surfaces. None, actually. Only a contemporary painting above his bed frame and then a faded vintage horror movie poster plastered up near his desk. Not terribly odd, since in your experience most men don’t really do the whole “cluttering the house with millions of photos of their family” thing until they at least have a couple of kids and some purebred dog. The thought of Gojo someday setting up a little portrait photo at his desk with his wife’s—his eventual real forever wife’s, pretty face in it, posing with their two beautiful kids, makes an oddly melancholic feeling waft through you. You wonder if he would keep a two-by-two in his wallet, too.

Your feet move one in front of the other as your finger traces the surface wood of a dresser cabinet, something that looks a little vintage and oaky, in stark contrast to the modern minimalist vibe Gojo has set up in the rest of the room. A family heirloom, maybe? There’s no dust that coats your finger, which surprises you. If you were to run your finger across your dresser at home you’d have collected enough dust to snort down your windpipes like a recreational drug. But Gojo’s a real estate agent, making a living off of dressing houses up in perfect cosplay so that monetarily stable middle class families feel inclined to buy them. So you’re not exactly surprised he’s invested in keeping his own house in pristine condition too.

There is a little bit of chaos, though. Like the shirt he has haphazardly hung over his chair at his office space over to the right. There’s a coffee mug sitting there too, porcelain and reflecting the moon light off, but upon peering inside you see that it’s half empty with stale coffee. He’s got pens sprawled across the desk, in a fashion that suggests he accidentally knocked them over in a rush, and slowly, like some grounding exercise, you place them one by one back into the paper mache pencil holder. It briefly occurs to you that he has a lot of paper mache containers of sorts around the house. You lift up the pencil cup, turning it in your hand until your eyes catch something written on it with glittery pink gel pen.

i luv u unkle toru! -yur BEST FREND 4EVUR juno!!! :D

A small smile makes it onto your face. The handwriting was messy, more like scratches than smooth lines, and nothing less than what you would expect of a child. You remember making paper mache and clay trinkets at preschool for your mom and dad when you were younger. And you’re sure if you were brave enough to open the box of memorabilia that sits in your attic some day, you’d see your own scratchy scribbled handwriting on them. An innocence that is long gone and buried, never again to be delicately placed on desks or counters for all the living.

The draft from the AC reaches you once again, brushing over your skin and causing a chill to shiver down your spine. It kicks at the curtains as well, causing them to ruffle up towards you, baring the dark outside world into the streets. And you notice in that momentary glance that there’s a roof just outside the window that overlooks the backyard. A roof? Spotted by a depressed woman going through a quarter life crisis? There was nothing more tempting than that.

The window was easy to open, which only caused unease over the revelation of how easy it would be for someone to rob this house. You make a mental note to tell Gojo to get a ring camera or security system of some sort since he doesn’t seem to have one, but you can already picture him telling you something about how statistically low the crime rates are in this neighborhood compared to all the other neighborhoods, and then you’d tell him that it’s just for your peace of mind. But whether he’d compromise or not after that, you’re really not sure.

You take a seat on the roof, a little scared as you sit because of the slight slope, but it’s comfortable once you’re settled. You sit criss-cross-apple-sauce, staring out into the neighborhood of perfectly lined up suburban houses. You’ve got a better view into some neighbors' backyards, noticing that a couple of them had pools while some of them have big gardens. There's a cat resting up on a fence in the distance. A car drives by with headlights illuminating everything in its proximity briefly before zooming off. You glance up at the sky, and notice the full moon, but it’s too cloudy to see any stars. Or perhaps it was just the light pollution from the lamps making it difficult to see.

On instinct, your hand reaches inside your coat pocket for your phone, but your knuckles hit something else instead. A moment of brief confusion flickers through your head, but then you immediately recall the last-minute purchase you made at the gas station.

Your hand pulls out the object, and then you stare down at it. Squinting your eyes a little, because it’s a sight that feels familiar but also one you haven’t seen in so long: a pack of twenty Marlboro red cigarettes.

You’ve tried a lot of things to manage your stress over the years. Excessively working out, eating a lot of sugar, going on six hour hikes to touch grass, flirting with random men at bars, fucking Choso until he was rendered speechless, multiple types of antidepressants, you almost tried smoking weed once with your roommate in college but you wimped out last second. But the habit that had gotten you through the years of 21 to 24 is held loosely in your hand right now. It’s been five years since you quit, but resolve was often a fickle thing. As the saying goes, once an addict, always an addict.

There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you slowly peel the plastic off of the back, but then it all comes back to you like a reflex you’ll never forget up to where you slide a cigar up out and then pinch it between your two fingers. Forgetting to buy a lighter with the cigarettes is definitely something you would do, but because you remembered it was something that you would do, you remembered not to do it. The flick of the flame coming to life is ASMR you didn’t know you were painfully nostalgic for, and you balance the cigarette between your lips in that sort of movie-star way people used to obsess over back in the day. But just as you bring the lighter up to the end of the cigarette, and just before you can light it—

A hand shoots out in your periphery, grabbing your wrist and entirely stalling the movement.

You gasp, lips parting enough for the cigarette to fall from them and into your lap. The hand wrapped around your wrist is large and masculine, and you briefly consider screaming, but when you snap your neck to look at the perpetrator, you see Gojo crouched down next to you on this roof. You notice he’s wearing a black suit, a tie that was loosely secure hanging from his neck into the space between his spread thighs as he’s crouched, and whatever gel he had in his hair from earlier only barely remains as strands fall over his forehead haphazardly. He looks like he’s on the other end of a long work day.

You blink at him, expression plastered with surprise, but his is only earnest. With breathtaking blue eyes that you realize he could easily use to surrender a person just by looking at them, like the way he’s looking at you right now. His lips are pressed together into a firm line, as if to suppress some emotion, but the slight crease to his brow makes you feel like you’re in trouble somehow. Like he was silently scolding you for something.

“I—” you stutter.

He lets go of your wrist and discreetly pulls the lighter out of your hand. And then his hand reaches for the pack of cigarettes you were balancing on your knee, but on some reflex that you don’t even think about, you try to snatch them away from him, and now you’re both tugging at the same pack of cigarettes.

“y/n,” he says, “let go.”

“No,” you say stubbornly.

He sighs and tugs a little harder. “Give them to me.”

“But—” you stammer, voice becoming softer to see if that’d work on him, “I’m…” Your grip on them tightens. “I’m stressed.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, then finally loses his patience and snatches them right out of your hand. He stands up from his crouched down position to toss the pack off to the side onto the roof somewhere. You’re surprised when he lets out a sigh and sits down next to you on the roof, as if he felt the obligation to. His legs stretch out in front of him, but still bent slightly at the knees, and he leans backwards with his body weight braced on his palms laid flat on wood paneling behind him. “There are better ways to relieve stress,” he tells you candidly.

“Like what?” you ask, and just when he opens his mouth to speak, you clarify, “and don’t say sex.”

He shuts his mouth and his eyes flit up to the sky for a brief second. “Damn. I didn’t have a back-up answer.”

You roll your eyes, releasing a deep breath, then draw your knees to your chest before resting your chin on top of them.

“I didn’t know you smoke,” he says after a century-long minute.

You wince a little, because you were half hoping he was going to just drop the subject all together.

You bite your lip nervously and hug your knees to your chest tighter as if to hide yourself from him. “I don’t. Well, I haven’t. Um, not for a while.”

“Huh. I see,” he says.

Another silence passes, and as he shuffles next to you, the fabric of his suit brushes against the fabric of your coat, and you’ve become entirely too aware of the feeling.

“So,” he says, breaking the awkward silence, “your mom’s in hospice now?”

You nod, enthusiastic enough to where you won’t look like you’re entirely depressed about it.

“That’s good,” he says, “no issues with the insurance?”

You shake your head. “They need you to sign some papers by the end of the week though,” you tell him. “We’ll have to go in person.”

He nods slowly to affirm he’ll make time for it. “I really hope things get better for your mom,” he says, voice soft as he stares off into neighbors homes like you had been doing ten minutes ago. You see the cat that was resting on the fence get up, do a big stretch, and start walking along the length of the fence. Your eyes briefly glance at Gojo, and you notice his gaze is tracing the cat’s path.

“My—” you start, hesitant all of a sudden by the vulnerability you already feel swelling within you, most definitely due to sitting with someone on a rooftop late at night, but you decide that you’ll be nice to him for once, “…my mom seems to remember you a lot. More than she remembers me.” You let out a small humoring laugh, as if that fact doesn’t completely destroy you. “She was blabbering to me again for the seventh time about how you apparently fixed our AC.” You try to bite your tongue, but can’t help it when you say, “although I’m pretty sure you just pressed a bunch of buttons until it started working again.”

“Yup. That’s exactly what I did.”

You roll your eyes and sigh.

Another awkward silence.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say.

“Sure.” His voice sounds deeper, like he’s sleepy.

“Why did you agree to marry me? That’s not something people just do out of nowhere.”

He glances over at you, and you flicker your eyes to him. “Why? Having regrets?” he teases, with a slight nudge of his elbow to your side.

“Just answer me.”

He lifts his palms up from behind him and leans forward, placing his hands on his knees instead. “I don’t know. If something I could do would help someone out that much, I wasn’t going to say no.”

You hum quietly, still confused by his intentions. But you’re too jaded to question them.

“It costs nothing to be nice,” he adds.

You run soothing circles over your thigh through the fabric of your jeans. For some reason, your mind wanders to Choso. Thinking of all the years you wasted staying with him even though you knew his affections were long gone, just because you didn’t want to break his heart. Only to realize that you never had that privilege in the first place.

“I think,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you draw your knees closer to your chest, “that sometimes it does.”

A gust of autumn wind breezes by, ruffling the trees that the two of you are at eye-level with at the moment. You're pretty sure you’ve completely lost Gojo’s interest at this point, where he’s finally too tired to deal with your oddly cryptic attitudes and overall generally displeasing vibe, assuming this based solely on his prolonged silence beside you. You’re ready for him to get up and abandon you here on this roof, left to ponder every single thing you’ve done wrong in your life. It was any second now.

“Sometimes,” he instead speaks up, and it’s so surprising to you that you jolt a little bit, “you can do everything right, and people will still find a way to fuck you over. But I don’t think that’s any reason to stop being nice to others.”

You glance over at him, your eyes widening slightly, but he just continues to peer off straight into the night. His blinks are slow, lingering on being closed for a moment before he opens them again, and you’re mesmerized by the sight. The skin under his eyes is slightly dark from exhaustion, heavy with character that makes you aware that he’s just a person too. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, you realize that he’s—…handsome. And for what feels like the tenth time this week, your heart flutters in your chest.

He scoffs suddenly and dusts his hands off. “I sound like a fucking youth pastor.” He lets out an exhale before suddenly standing up onto his feet before you can think more on it. He looks off into the night again and lets out another exhale that sounds more like a sigh this time. “God, it’s getting a lot colder these days. Might have to start running the heater.”

You blink up at him with no commentary to add.

He looks down at you. His face is relaxed, but you can tell those eyes are distracted. A shimmering blue ocean in its own world while he attempts to stay present in this one.

He holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it blankly like you’ve got no clue what he intends for you to do with it. But you finally take the hint and curl your hand around his palm so that he can pull you up onto your feet too.

You stumble a little, falling forward from the sudden blood flow to your brain, but he holds you steady by the strong grip of his hands on your elbows. He’s close to you, close enough to where you can smell the faint lingering scent of his cologne. Something different than that expensive one he wore to the courthouse, but it’s comforting somehow. A fragrance that’s more him. And you feel nervous as you look up at him underneath pale moonlight.

He lets go of your elbows. You feel cold from the loss of his touch. But his right hand moves to gently hold your left hand in his palm, holding it curled as his thumb barely grazes the stone you wear on your ring finger; the one he gave you.

The way his thumb prods at the silver band is like he’s inspecting its quality, as if it has to pass some test to be worthy of sitting on your finger. Or maybe just any finger, if you were to quell the delusion. You’re not sure if he’s satisfied with his inspection.

“Where did you get it—” you blurt out.

His gaze flickers up to your face briefly before he’s back to examining the ring. “It was my mom’s.”

Your mouth gapes slightly in shock, heart dropping a little in your chest, and all of a sudden you feel guilty. Guilty that he put his mother’s ring on your finger for something that was fake, something that was essentially a business deal, something exchanged to you out of fraud when it was a precious family heirloom that should be exchanged with love. And maybe he didn’t care about it much, some people don’t care about the sentiments of objects. But your mind thinks of the oaky vintage dresser in his room, so out of place in the aesthetic of its surroundings, a decision you can only imagine him of all people, mr. “everything in this house has to look like an IKEA catalog”, would do if the dresser held some importance to him that was more than meets the eye. And so you’re compelled to think that maybe this ring did, too.

“Why would you give me this?! You could’ve just gotten a cheap fake diamond ring from a pawn shop and called it a day,” you ask him, suddenly feeling burdened by it.

“Well I wasn’t exactly given much time to think of other options.”

“But—” you start, only to realize you have no counter arguments for that.

He lets out a huh noise, like the sound someone makes when they’re pleasantly surprised by something, as he looks down at your hand that he still held in his. “It’s kinda crazy that it fits you perfectly. I wasn’t sure.”

Your mind wanders to when he slipped the ring onto your finger in the courtroom, followed by the kiss. Soft, sweet, the lingering warm sensation of his palm on your cheek as he cupped your face, the same way those heartthrob actors do in all those romance movies and kdramas that you watch on Friday nights while snuggled up in a blanket, wondering when anyone will ever kiss you like that. You remember the ghost sensation of his hand hovering over the small of your back, fingers lightly grazing the nape of your neck, his frame blocking out everything around you as he kissed you, just to pull away and for the two of you to then pretend like it never happened, as if it wasn’t one of the sweetest kisses you’ve ever known.

You slowly pull your hand out of his, the moment feeling too tender for your liking, and you clear your throat before flitting your eyes up to his.

“Rule #1,” you remind him with a soft whisper, “no touching.”

You purse your lips, watching his round eyes blink once, then twice, before he shoves his hands in his suit pockets. He rocks back and forth on his heels for a few seconds, nodding slowly in submission, and then he turns on them to head back to the house. You’re standing a little stunned from the abrupt ending to this trance of a moment on the roof, and you’re also a little surprised with how your chest is heaving a little bit with fast breaths, but you eventually snap out of it to follow him inside too.

You two make it back inside the house, with little words exchanged. You pretend to not notice the way Gojo tilts his head at his desk, like he’s confused about why it looks tidier than when he left it. You’re prepared to feign innocence or ignorance, but he doesn’t press you about it.

“Y’know,” he says from behind you, his chest briefly brushing against the back of your head as he pushes the bedroom door in front of you open so that you can head out into the loft, “those oversized 1800s-esque nightgowns you’ve been wearing around the house kinda make you look like a less-hot version of Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

•┈┈┈••✦☽✦••┈┈┈•

“Sign right here for me, sir.”

You watch as the nurse slides the papers across the high-raised counter of the hospice nursing desk towards Gojo, his eyebrows narrowing as his eyes skim the words on the paper and land at the highlighted lines where he’s been intended to sign. You feel nervous for some reason, as if he’d suddenly find something disagreeable and refuse to sign, then take you to the courthouse first thing to finalize a divorce and send you off to prison while claiming he was blackmailed into the whole marriage in the first place.

Instead, he pulls a pen from the chest pocket of his suit jacket, clicking the end of it and scribbling his signature onto the paper with some jet black ink that looks like it takes a second to dry. How pretentious of him. The pink pom-pom pen was right there.

The nurse behind the counter continues to chat with him about something, blah blah dependents, blah blah tax claims, blah blah you’ll receive an itemized bill in the mail. You’re trying your best to eavesdrop in on the conversation, but most of your senses are being occupied by examining all your surroundings. When you dropped your mother off at the hospice, your feelings were at the forefront of conscience, but now that you’ve had a couple days to come down from that overwhelming emotional high, you’re here to scope out the quality of this place you’ve just dumped your mom at.

The facility is clean and sleek, with a color theme of red and an ocean blue across the signs, the furniture, even with the paperwork they hand out. All the workers had color-coded scrubs based on their occupation or specialty, and none of them had stains on the fabric. You take a glance down at the modest leather pumps you were wearing past the creases of the long skirt, and notice that the floor was shimmering off their reflection in a perfect polish. It wasn’t bad, this place.

“Thanks, you too,” you hear Gojo say to the nurse behind the counter. He has a professional smile on his face, but still kind and genuine, which makes the woman at the computer something bashful and unable to make eye contact. He folds something that looks like a receipt into his chest pocket before tucking his pen back in there too and then turns to face you. You make a mental note to pay him back for whatever he just paid for, at least once you move some money around.

Your eyebrows lift, feeling a little dazed as you blink at him blankly.

“Alright,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets, the sound of his shoes on the polished hospital floors satisfactorily tapping in your ears as he took a couple steps towards you, “where’s your mom’s room?”

“Huh?”

“What’s her room number?” he asks you.

“Y-You wanna go see her??”

“Of course I want to,” he says, “she’s my mother-in-law.”

You roll your eyes and pet the fabric of your skirt to smooth the wrinkles out. “You’re getting a little too invested in this role of fake husband.”

“I get to annoy you all day and ride the adrenaline rush of committing a federal crime,” he says, “of fucking course I’d get invested.”

You sigh, tossing some of your hair to behind your shoulder before glancing up at the signs, squinting slightly to locate the ward where your mother’s room is, before you hear an extremely high-pitched and somewhat catty feminine voice call out from behind you. You glance at Gojo’s face as he peers off to whoever’s behind you, and you see him visibly stiffen a little.

“Is that Dayton county’s sexiest realtooorrr???” the voice purrs, and you turn on your heel to see a blonde bombshell of a woman clacking her kitten heels down the glistening floors of the hospice, with another brunette bombshell just a few paces behind her. Bombshell #2 sighs something like “it issss” before they walk right up to your fake husband and take turns at giving him a playful squeeze of his bicep. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping at the sight.

“Wow! Ladies, so–...so great to see you two,” he says out of polite obligation, and you immediately clock the fact that he doesn’t address them by name.

Bombshell #1 turns to look at you, all of her hair moving as one solid entity with the motion from all the hair spray that’s probably holding it up, and she points at you with a long slender finger that narrows into a french-tip. “Oh who’s this?? Another one of your clients??”

“Oh, no, she’s my–”

“I’m his wife,” you interrupt him, irritated for some reason.

Both the women chirp something out like oh! before their faces twist with confusion.

“I didn’t know you were married,” Bombshell #2 says in a thick New Jersey accent.

Gojo lifts his left hand up, the silver band on his hand glimmering under fluorescent hospice lighting. “Very happily,” he says, as if someone was holding a gun to his head.

Bombshell #1 crosses her arms, and you try not to stare at how nice her boobs look in the low scoop-neck jaguar print top she was wearing. You were no better than a man. And now you’re pissed off at the idea of Gojo glancing down too, but a flick of your gaze up to his face tells you he’s safe. For now.

“You weren’t married when I asked you if you were a month ago,” Bombshell #1 sneers at him. It’s true, the math wouldn’t make sense, but in his defense, this marriage was a fraud.

“Or when you took me out for dinner last week after I bought my house,” Bombshell #2 snarls with an undertone of hurt.

Gojo clears his throat beside you before pointing at Bombshell #2. “How is that, by the way?” he asks in an attempt to change the subject, “the half acre down on Maple Ave, right? You, uh, enjoying the pool?”

The woman let out an offended scoff and–were her eyes sheening with tears?? She puts her hands on her hips. “No. Mine is the three bedroom house with the cedar gazebo on 14th street.”

Her friend next to her rolls her eyes and smacks her gum between her cheek. “I’m the one that bought the half acre down on Maple Ave, jerk. Ugh!” She grabs her friend’s arm with a high-pitched hmph noise leaving her throat, and you can hear the other one sniffling subtly as she wobbles on her heels with her friend’s pull of her arm.

Right before leaving the two of you alone, Bombshell #1 turns to you and says, “I hope you find someone who treats you better,” and then they storm off together down the hallway, their perfectly blow-dried hair bouncing in sync with each stomp.

You blink at the sight, a little flabbergasted from the interaction, and then flit your faze up to Gojo. You see him awkwardly scratching at the back of his head with a grimace on his stupidly handsome face.

“That’s what you get for being a manwhore,” you tell him.

“I’m not a manwhor–”

“You went on a date with another woman while you were maaaaarrrieeeddd?!” you coo as you let out a fake gasp and slap your cheeks with your hands, “despicable, really.”

He lets out some disgruntled noise, the source coming from deep within his throat. “No. We weren’t fake-married yet,” he vindicates himself, “and it wasn’t a date. I just bought her dinner as a congrats for buying a house. Not a big deal. I do it for all my clients.”

“Satoru. You do realize you’re leading these women on, right? I mean, I’ve seen the way you talk to them. Even if you think you’re just being friendly, please know that your definition of friendly is most people’s definition of flirting.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s true.”

He raises an eyebrow as he glances down at you. “Alright, how come this flirting in disguise of friendliness hasn’t worked on you then?”

You scoff in disbelief before crossing your arms. Maybe you did deserve a better fake husband. “You’re never friendly with me. You’re always rude to me.”

“What? I’m not always rude to you.”

“Well, you’re certainly much more rude to me than you are to other women,” you say, tapping the tip of your shoe with irritation.

“Can we not do this right now? We’re in the middle of a hospice.”

“God, you’re such a cop-out,” you mumble as you forcefully push past him towards the hallway that’ll lead you to your mother. You can hear that Gojo’s on your tail, following you down one of the more dimly lit hallways, and you can tell he needs to stall the strides of his Daddy Longlegs to not overtake your pace.

“What the fuck is a cop-out?” he asks you from behind.

“Look it up on urban dictionary, Grandpa. Unless you don’t know what the Internet is, either,” you spat.

You waltz right up to your mother’s room just in time to see a nurse making her way out with a clipboard in her hands. She glances over to you when she sees you approaching in her periphery.

“Hi! How can I help you?” she asks.

“Is it alright if we visit my mother?” you ask her.

“Oh! Sure, let me just clean her bed pan really quick.”

Your brow furrows. “B-Bedpan?? Why is she using a bedpan??”

The nurse stops in her movements. “Well, yesterday and today, that’s just what she has decided to use.”

You immediately become hostile. “That’s not right. She never needed to use one at home. Why is she suddenly using one here? Is that not a clear sign of deterioration? The restrooms must not be kept well enough here if she doesn’t want to use them.”

The nurse becomes something meek, her eyes widening as her mouth gapes slightly. “Ma’am,” she squeaks out, “we see this commonly with patients as they begin to adjust to hospice life. We’ll urge her to use the restroom, but as of right now, we need to prioritize what she finds most comfortable.”

Your expression softens, your shoulders relaxing from their tense position, and you duck your head a little with guilt. “Right…I’m sorry.”

The nurse presses her lips together with a well-meaning smile before shuffling into the room and closing the door behind her. You sigh and lean your back against the wall next to the number plate, cheeks flushing slightly from the confrontation. You have no idea how loud your voice was or who heard you. But you try to convince yourself that you’re just stressed and trying to look out for your mother, although the guilt still sits.

You glance up to see Gojo staring at you with slightly wide eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets, and he tilts his head to study your expression.

“What?” you snap at him.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Just fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoru,” you cut his questioning off by raising a palm into the air, “just—…just stop.”

His brow furrows together slightly, but before he can show any further concern, the nurse exits the room and holds the door open for the two of you.

“All set!” she chirps, and Gojo moves to hold the door open in her stead, and then the nurse bolts down to disappear somewhere down the hallway.

You hear Gojo let out a small huff of a scoff as he stares down in the direction the nurse ran off in. “Glad to know I’m not the only one that’s scared of you.”

You roll your eyes and walk into the room through the open door.

Your mother lays in her bed, looking out the window with her hands resting on top of layers of white linen sheets, her skin looking slightly paler than usual. You approach her bedside slowly and she finally turns her head to look at you.

“Hi mom,” you gently greet her, sitting down on the stool beside her bed, “how are you doing?”

Her eyes dart across the features of your face, and you briefly glance towards the wall to the right where you see Gojo standing from a slight distance.

“Oh, hi dear,” she says with a smile, and relief washes over you.

You match her smile with your own. “Mom, I brought someone here to see you.” You glance over at Gojo, who starts to close distance now as he approaches the foot of the bed, “this is Satoru, my husband.”

Your mother’s eyes widen, “Oh! I know him,” she scoldingly swats a hand at you, like you’ve embarrassed her somehow by assuming that she doesn’t know who he is, “he’s my neighbor!”

You sigh, “yes mom, the one that fixed the A/C?” You attempt to finish her sentence for her.

She looks confused for a moment, but slightly nods as if to avoid any further confusion for herself. “But—…but, why…” she trails off and then looks at you, “I’m sorry, are you my nurse?”

Your shoulders drop slightly. “No, mom, it’s me. Your daughter. Do you remember?”

Her face scrunches before it entirely relaxes to keep some image of composure despite the haze you know she feels in her head. “Oh…yes, yes…my little girl. I remember you, of course!”

Your eyes become layered with a slight sheen of tears, “I’m glad.”

“Where’s your father?” she asks, “he said he’d bring me some…oh dear, what—…he said he’d bring me tea. I’ve been waiting.”

“Mom, dad is—” you pause for a moment to think on your feet. You could either tell the truth, or a little white lie. You never know what to do. And either one comes with either guilt or sorrow. “Well, he’ll be here soon, I just wanted to come see you.”

“Oh okay…” she trails off, her eyes squinting at you once more with that same look of confusion on it, but then they drift towards Gojo. “Oh you’re a very handsome young man! You look just like my neighbor.”

Your eyes flicker up to Gojo, and he walks up to your side by your mom’s bed. “Yes, Mrs. l/n, I am your neighbor.”

“With the lemon tree!”

“The avocado tree,” you correct her with a small sigh. “And he’s my husband mom. And also our neighbor.”

“Oh I see I see…” she says, looking up at him, and in a moment that shocks you, she holds her hand up for him to take.

There’s a slight moment of surprise on his face too, but he accepts her frail hand in his, and you glance over to your mom to see her look at him with some look of peace on her face.

“Oh, sit down here, won’t you?” she tells him, and you both blink at her in a moment of hesitation.

He pulls a stool up to the side of the bed right next to you and takes a seat down onto it. Your mother holds his hand with both of hers now, soothing her palm over the back of it before she taps on it lightly.

“Oh, my little girl is very sweet. She would bring me flowers from the garden when she was,” she glances at you, confused once more, “well I remember her when she was so little but she looks…a little older now. Ah, but she would bring me such pretty flowers.”

Your heart aches in your chest. You never knew what version of you your mother would remember. Some days, you’re still supposed to be an angsty teenager that shuts doors in her face, some days you were just as you are right now, and other days, you were just her little girl. And it confused her, the image of not seeing you in the way that she remembers. In the only way she knew how.

“You’ll take good care of my sweet girl, won’t you?” she asks him.

And it knocks the wind out of you.

It drops your heart to the center of the earth.

The thought that, after so many moments where she doesn’t remember you, she still knows that you’re someone she wants to keep safe.

Your mouth gapes slightly, tears welling in your eyes and you try your best to blink them away, but you see Gojo’s hand slip out from being held by your mother’s hands, to instead use both of his to hold hers. Your eyes snap to his face, and you see that same earnest expression you’ve been growing used to seeing these days.

“Yes,” he responds, eye contact level with hers, “I will.”

A small puff of air leaves your lips, a single tear streaming down your cheek and you quickly swipe your trembling fingers to remove any evidence of it before you huff out a shaky, “excuse me.” And then you’re standing up off the stool, and in a few hurried steps across the room as more tears continue to stream down your face, you make it to the door to push out into the suffocating air of the hallway.

It’s hard to breathe, huffs and puffs barely leaving your lips as you struggle to pull air into your lungs while you storm down the hallway at a fast pace, your heels clicking underneath you in a way that only sets you off further. Suddenly, all the sounds around you make you sick to your stomach, a wave of nausea washing over you, and your nose burns with the intensity of the tears that continue to stream down your face. A few hospice staff look at you with concerned expressions, and you eventually reach a heavy-duty door that leads you out into a secluded staircase hallway where the dim lighting serves to relax at least some of your senses, but you still feel like you’re about to pass out.

Even in the haze of your emotions, there’s this glimmer of a memory that comes to mind. One from when you were younger and you were pushed on the playground at school. You cried and cried and cried in your mother’s arms, but even then, you didn’t want her to baby you. You would say to her, I’m a big girl now! in that same way a child knows nothing of what it truly means to brave the world.

That little girl had no idea that one day, there would be moments where she wouldn’t be remembered as her mother’s little girl anymore.

No matter how old you grow, you will always be my little girl, your mother’s voice echoes to you, the feeling of her squeezing you in her arms as she holds your sobbing little form in hers casting a ghost sensation across your skin.

In a mother’s eyes, you’ll always be her baby.

And that’s why it hurts.

Because it’s all fake.

It’s phony.

It’s not real.

This arrangement you have with Gojo.

And if your mother were to die tomorrow, there would be no one to take care of her little girl anymore.

Not in the way she believes there will be.

Of all the white lies, this one pierces you straight through your heart in a way that leaves you gasping for air.

Amidst your whirlwind of thoughts, you hear the door push open harshly, and when you glance over, you see Gojo standing in this dimly lit hallway as he turns his head quickly to the left and sees you standing there.

“Hey,” he says, catching his breath as he lightly jogs up to you, “hey, hey, hey,” he repeats with more concern now when he sees the state you’re in, and he seamlessly pulls you into a hug, your cheek pressing against his chest that feels warm even through the fabric of his suit jacket and shirt, and that familiar scent of him completely engulfs you.

You sob quietly, wiping your snot on his tie and your tears on the felt fabric beside it, your hands balled into tiny fists at your chest, squeezed between the two of you. You feel him tuck your head under his chin and his arms wrap around you tighter. You don’t even realize it at first, but suddenly, it has become easier to breathe.

Then, you wail, and you cry, and you sob, because you don’t have the words to even explain how you feel, about not just this, but with everything, a buildup of everything that has been suffocating you in your life that just comes crashing down on you all at once.

“I know,” he says, his palm resting on the back of your head as he holds your face to his chest, his voice soothing in your ears while you sob until there’s nothing left to cry. “I know.”

You two stay like this for another minute or so as you come down from the cries, your remnant sniffling echoing in the hallway while you wipe more of your snot on his jacket. You make the first move to pull your face away from his chest, but he still keeps his arms wrapped around you when you look up at him.

With your gaze darting across his face, you take in the blue in his eyes. Eyes that are looking at you so softly it’s suddenly hard to breathe once more. And when those eyes flit to your lips, your mouth parts slightly as you two breathe in unison.

It’s possible that you could have dreamed the moment you saw him lean down slightly towards you, his eyes still set on your lips, but it didn’t matter because you’re pushing him away with strong fists before you can even register the thought in your head.

He lets go of you entirely, his eyes wide once more, and you glance down at your feet.

A tender moment, just like on the roof, broken just because you can’t handle that—…that way, that intense way that he looks at you. New rule, no looking at me longingly like you want to kiss me. I won’t allow it.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, still examining your shoes. And you suddenly feel embarrassed that he had to see you this way. He’s supposed to be scared and intimidated by you, not holding you in his arms while you cry.

He’s silent for a moment, but you can tell he’s searching for things to say. “You don’t want to say bye to your mom before we go?”

You swipe your palm against the wetness on your cheek. “No. I just want to go home.”

“y/n,” he tried to convince you.

You finally look up at him. “Please.”

He breathes in a few breaths as he studies the features of your face in a way that makes you feel so seen that it’s frightening. But he slowly nods, then says,

“Okay.”

[end of chapter 4]

a/n. hi friendsss i hope you enjoyed :'') yea like i said at the a/n in the beginning, this chapter is a slight off-tangent from last chapter, but ch5 will continue with a lot of the stuffs that were brought up in ch3. but yea i wanted to explore the whole process of emotions reader would go through putting her mom in hospice, since it kinda felt like a big thing, hence why it got its own chapter. aaa i hope to see you in the next one!! much love from me :''0

➸ take me to chapter five!

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fauustic · 1 year ago

Text

protective miguel o'hara drabble

you didn't hear this from me but i'm making a miguel series and its taking a lot longer than i thought (first chapter already is pushing 10k words sheesh..) and i'm having possessive miguel thoughts so i needed to GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM...

If Miguel had his own way outside the Spider Society and all that, he would have Lyla escort you to and from wherever your errands took you under the guise of "needing company," or as an extra precaution of staying safe.

In reality, Miguel is an anxious man. He wants to keep everything that could possibly go wrong at bay, always trying to stay five steps ahead of whatever could possibly happen. So when he comes to find out that someone had hit on you as you were out with friends, he was livid.

Of course the one time you're not wrapped in his own embrace or cuddled up in the side of his hip one late night, someone tries to take the opportunity of seeing you all alone and a little bit vulnerable, tipsy and stumbling against the arm of your friend-- contorted in a way that would have been uncomfortable if you hadn't downed a couple drinks hours before.

You had let it slip when calling him, all giggly and oblivious to the world from being a lightweight. "Migs," you had murmured into the crook of your neck, cradling the phone that let out little chuckles from your boyfriend. He's still not used to seeing you drunk, the neither of you were really big drinkers unless you were celebrating something for work or you had been roped into a socialite outing from Miguel's position at Alchemax. The Spider Society never really had anything worth going out to drink for, or maybe Miguel just never wants to hang around them too frequently. His mood always changes whenever he brings up what he does, so you haven't brought yourself to pry any more.

His tone was lax, if not a little awake. You assumed he was driving through the midnight traffic once he heard the words, "I miss you, I'm ready to come home." And Miguel always requests for you to stay on the phone with him until he sees you, until you're swallowed into a hug that threatens to crack your back because he hasn't seen you all day and he's a bit desperate for your warmth.

"What is it, mi alma?" His voice met your ears in that playful, tired way whenever Miguel catches on that blissful, drunk tone of yours's. Raspy with a hint of sleep as if he's been trying to stay awake for you despite being exhausted after a few days of little rest. You would have felt bad for keeping him awake at a time like this had you not been thinking hazily, but deep down you know he couldn't sleep without you either.

Another giggle hissed through your dopey, toothy smile. Your happiness must be contagious because you could hear his own curl of his lips when he encouraged you to spill your thoughts for a second time when you left him hanging.

"You wouldn't believe what happened tonight, baby," you slurred into the receiver and he hummed. Your ass met the concrete hard when your legs suddenly felt like jelly, the dim street lights casting a soft ambience on the side of the bar. You only felt a little vulnerable when you found yourself alone on the phone with the little reminder that your lover is still on the road. "This, this stranger tried to make a move on me. A move!" You babbled as if it was the most surprising thing in the world, "And it's so crazy because I was like, heaving over the table like my last mixed drink was about to send me over the edge. I was not at my best."

The gentle chuckles on the other end came to a halt as soon as you brought up someone else, a stranger who you didn't even remember the name of. Miguel's quietness never caught your attention as you continued rambling on about it in your drunken state, holding your free hand to your forehead to try and stay upright against the wall of the bar.

"And, obviously I was like, 'ew, who the fuck are you? I have a boyfriend-'" You had mocked yourself in exaggeration, and when you heard Miguel's stiff huff of laughter on the other end you couldn't help but laugh in blissful unawareness. "But they wouldn't shut up and even had the audacity to pull me up towards them,"

Miguel had interrupted you this time around, an eerie atmosphere to his tone. Cold, a little distant. It put your hazy mind on edge, though he would never do anything to you. "Who was this.." He paused for a moment, and you could see the hand signals he would conjure when trying to find the word for something. "Stranger? This person?"

You caught your breath when he mentioned he was minutes away now before you answered his question, a warmth settling over your chest at the inevitable entanglement of limbs the moment you find yourself face-to-face with Miguel.

"Ah, some.." Your brows scrunched, trying to remember where the mysterious flirt was from until you realized it was a work party. "Co-worker, different department, obvious prick. Hated the way he spoke to me, was trying to explain some stupid shit at work that I obviously knew how to do."

"Love," He practically cooed into his phone, and you could see the way he shakes his head in both adoration and disbelief whenever Miguel uses such a gentle pet name. Such a simple one, but the way he looks at you as if you're the entire world and more rivals whatever paragraphs he could possibly write to express his feelings for you. "I need a name,"

"You do not need a name, Migs." You laughed, and you could hear the whiney scoff of his when you caught onto his antics despite being drunk. "That worries me. I don't need you getting hurt." And you swear you could hear a small whimper, the gentleness you give him causes his insides to twist and turn painfully. Always in a tunnel of self-depreciation, he tries his best to accept the sweetness oozing from your lips, but Miguel can't help but admit he's still not used to it.

Miguel knows he isn't perfect, the insecurities flow from his exhausted tongue frequently when he's surrounded with your touch and presence every night. But when he hears you off-handedly mention how someone tried to take you away in the unknown of their home, something inside him cracks just a little bit more whenever a situation like this arises.

"Baby," By each passing moment he stayed quiet, you felt yourself sobering up. Your worst days was whenever Miguel needed space from you for whatever took ahold of his mind, those nasty thoughts that tell him something differently than what you embed within his very being. If this conversation triggered something, you would respect it without a second thought-- but the idea of being without Miguel after such a taxing week had you hold back the emotions threatening to bombard your delicate state of mind. "Migs-- Miguel, what's wrong baby? Why aren't you talking, honey?" You pleaded into your phone, briefly checking to see if you had accidentally hung up.

"Fuck," you murmured to yourself, your phone falling to your side as your other hand met the bridge of your nose- a habit you've developed from the one you love. What a silly thing.

A car door sounded throughout the humid night air nearby, and you brushed it off as another person consumed by the nightlife. Probably going to down a couple beers to forget, is what your muddled brain distractedly made up to try and stop yourself from crying. Swiping at your cheek with a pathetic feeling pooling in the bottom of your stomach, you weren't sure whether the wetness meeting the pads of your finger-tips was the fog or tears dripping off your lashes.

Your name rings throughout traffic lights and bustling cars like a prayer, boots crunching pavement until pristine-white etched with red met tears cascading onto the curb. The breath you were close to being choked up on was caught in your throat as the calm he desperately tried to exude cracked the moment he caught the cries slipping from your skin.

You unraveled your posture, straightening your neck up to meet his gaze. Miguel didn't hesitate to drop to his knees and take you into his arms as if he was a child hugging a stuffed animal. His nose met the crook of your neck and he breathed in deeply, as if he had taken a moment longer to get here you would had slip away from him- fading into the city streets like a ghost.

"Why didn't you respond?" You practically whined in his shoulder, immature and woozy from the tipsy still lingering. He only held onto you tighter, scooping you up into his arms like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

He mumbled into your hair as you returned the hug and closed your eyes, drawing into a comfortable lull from the safety of his embrace.

"What was that?" A genuine question, you couldn't hear his grumble with his mouth full of your hair. But he only scoffed, and leaned down to brush his canines against the shell of your ear, sharp yet feathery. The contrast was like a bucket of iced water dipped over you, shocking yourself out of that drunken fatigue. His words came out of as a whisper, hint of jealousy as well as protective concern.

"Worried sick, mi corazón. I'm not going to sleep until I know that bastard who put his hands on you," It came out less like a threat and more like a promise, softened by the plush of your curls meeting his lips in a kiss. "El muchacho necesita una lección, hmm?" A chuckle rolled off his tongue as he swung open the door to his sleek vehicle, setting you down with utmost care. Before you could protest, Miguel took the seatbelt in his hands and buckled you in himself- sweet and slow and everything he wasn't implying.

"Miguel, I don't need to be waited on hand-and-foot." You complain once his left hand found purchase on the steering wheel, all for show you assume because in the year of 2099 you had flying cars and automated driving and genetic splicing. But he was smooth, you had to give him that, as his frown kept a cheeky little smirk at bay. His free hand found comfort in the fat of your thigh, thumb stroking the fabric that hugged your figure nicely. He made no move, keeping the gesture innocent with genuine affection.

Miguel's not one to really show physical affection out of the confinements of your shared apartment, but ever since you had mentioned the threat of someone else trying to dumbly scoop you up and send you on your way alongside them- Miguel had kept close. Noticeably so.

His hand found itself snaking around your back and resting against the flesh atop your belly button, wedging you within the curve of his side. Miguel had always been the one to be a bit whiney, but when you denied him the opportunity to allow him to sink his fangs into the softness of your neck and angle of your jaw, he'd accidentally pout in an unexpectedly cute way and brood like a ruffled pigeon. You never allowed yourself to tease him about it though, or else he'd catch himself doing it and stop himself. The loss of such a cute expression donning his permanent scowl would have you in shambles.

Miguel's not exactly the worst with words per-se, he could explain the parallels of universes and what exactly makes them tick in harmony with effortless ambition-- but when he's faced with the pure adoration swimming within your irises as the both of you do the most mundane tasks; cooking and washing dishes, piled up on the couch for a movie you had dragged him to watch- Miguel would grow subtly emotional to the point he would have to stalk up behind you and engulf you with a hug, a stray tear or two meeting the ridge of your shoulder. And you'd hold his arms meeting the bridge of your ribs, whispering; "It's okay, darling. I'm here, here only for you."

And he'd kiss the blemishes upon your skin in return, a silent thank you as he nuzzles into your very being- the constant need to be as close as possible undermining the physical touch he craved so desperately from you. If he could use his claws to carve into your ribcage and take shelter next to your beating heart, maybe for once Miguel would be able to sleep easily.

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara headcanons #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara drabble

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typicalopposite · 3 months ago

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Ughhhhh! Today was… draining 😭 I haven’t had the chance to write much… but the last time I checked the chapter was basically at 10k 🫣 and still going… soooooo here’s another little snippet from chapter 6 of my Tommy Mpreg 🫶

The weather is nice. Nice enough to sit out on the porch swing and get lost in your thoughts… get depressed from your thoughts… a tear slides down Tommy’s cheek just as a familiar red SUV passes by and turns into the driveway; Athena and Karen get out, smiling and waving. “Hen said we might find you moping around at home,” Athena says, offering a warm smile. Tommy stares at them, and sighs. “She seriously told you?” “Well… she told Bobby,” Karen says. “Then they talked about it for a little while,” Athena adds. “Then they told us, and suggested maybe we come talk to you.” Karen grabs one of the rocking chairs and sits down, smirking. “Since we have some good experience with disapproving in-laws.” Tommy stares at the women, confused. “But Bobby’s parents aren’t alive and— and Karen, Toni loves you!?” “She didn’t always,” Karen corrects. “She has come… a long way.” “And my mother…” Athena chimes in. “Well let’s just say Bobby still consistently has to jump through hoops to stay in her good graces.” “Yeah, well… at least he managed to get in them at all…” Tommy mumbles. Athena sits down on the swing beside him and lays her hand on his. “I wish I could tell you Buck's mother will come around… but that woman— mmph…” Athena makes a face, and Tommy laughs. He fully gets it, and agrees, just by that noise alone. “She’s definitely a character,” Karen sighs. “But I’ll tell you one thing. You, and these two…” Athena pokes at Tommy’s stomach, before laying her hand against it as the babies start to kick. “—mean more to Buck than she ever has… and ever will. I know you’re trying to keep the peace by keeping quiet. But I’m telling you, it’s not worth it to lose your peace in the process.” He knows she’s right… and Hen’s right… and Eddie’s right… and his mom’s right. He sighs, nodding. “And, just to put it out there,” Athena continues, getting that classic no nonsense Sergeant Grant look in her eye. “If she bothers you any while she’s here, just come to me. I don’t mind showing her how to back to her own lane.” Karen laughs and reaches out to grab Tommy’s other hand. “Yeah, we’ve got your back.” And they did.

We love a good support system, yeah? 🫶

I know it’s late but tagging: @30somethingautisticteacher @onthewaytosomewhere @judymarch15 @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @bucksxkinard @bidisasterevankinard @kinardsevan and anyone else who wants to share 🫶🫶

#wip wednesday #bucktommy #cw mpreg #tommy kinard #athena grant #karen wilson #evan buckley

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beardedjoel · 1 year ago

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closer | part twelve

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: joel makes you come in his car, then decides that night he wants to make it happen six more times. 10k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), soft!dom joel, leaning more into full dom!joel this chapter, thigh riding, unprotected rough sex, spanking, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, joel uses restraints on reader

a/n: sooooo yeah, this chapter is just all smut it’s absolutely 10k words of pure filth i needed to get out of my system, please enjoy my friends x

Joel’s crew is back working on retiling your parents’ bathroom today, sans Joel. He got called for some consulting at one of his work sites and had to leave Ian and Chris to finish up the work. You thought you would maybe feel uncomfortable after Chris’ advances the other day, but luckily you got an alert for an apartment you’d really loved online offering showings, so you quickly schedule a viewing for today, giving you a chance to get out of the house and just let them work.

You tell the boys your plan, and Chris shoots you a somewhat apologetic look as you’re talking. You do feel slightly bad for the guy, he was just asking you out after all, unaware that he’d face Joel’s anger for it. You give him a kind look in return before you slip out of the bathroom and head out of the house.

You feel a little guilty for going to see this apartment, having told Joel that you weren’t planning to move until the end of summer, but this apartment doesn’t have availability until August, anyways. So there’s no harm in just going to look, right? You don’t want to move away from Joel, but the thought of living in your parents’ accessory apartment for too long is starting to get to you. You’re ready to start fresh - have a place of your own and a job you’d dreamed about. You could invite Joel over and not feel like such a little kid, mooching off of your parents. Sure, you’re doing so much work for them around the house while you stay here, but it doesn’t help the feeling that you’re a teenager again living under their roof.

You see a call come in from Joel when you’re heading back to your car after the viewing, and you answer nervously, deciding you’ll be honest with him about what you were doing today.

“Hey baby, how’s it going? Are the guys behaving?” Joel’s rich, deep voice comes through the speaker into your ear, melting your insides immediately.

“Uh, good, I actually just got out of an apartment viewing so I’m not home with them. It’s not available until almost September though, so don’t worry,” you say nervously, getting into your car.

“You know what I told you about that, do what you gotta do baby girl. Don’t even worry about me, okay?” Joel replies.

“It’s hard not to,” you say, fiddling with your hands in your lap. Joel chuckles on the other end of the phone.

“Such a sweet little thing,” he says, and you can picture the little head shake he does when he makes comments like that. “Hey, does that mean you’re still out right now?” he asks suddenly.

“Er, yeah, why?”

“Come meet me. I’ll be on a break soon.”

“Meet you at work?” you ask, feeling a little nervous about the prospect.

“No, somewhere else. Private,” he says, his voice going a little lower, and you suddenly understand what kind of meet-up he’s hoping to have.

“Hmm,” you say, smiling into the phone as you feign thinking. “You want me to meet you for lunch again?” you ask innocently, trying to rile him up a little.

“I’m thinking more than lunch, darlin’,” he says, “And I think you know that too.”

“Oh, do I?” You smirk.

“Don’t start with me,” he warns, and you flush a little with anticipation at his tone. “Are you comin’ or not?”

“Send me the address.”

You spot Joel’s truck where he said it would be, parked deep into an empty parking lot next to an alleyway and find a spot right behind it, climbing out of your car and immediately into his right after. You make a bold move and open his driver's side door, climbing in and immediately onto his lap. He already has the seat pushed back as far as he can, leaving plenty of room between you and the steering wheel. You straddle one of his legs and look down at him. His eyes are already dark with desire as they take you in, likely having been sitting here anticipating your arrival with nothing else to distract his mind.

“Oh?” Joel asks, surprised at the way you’ve chosen to ignore the passenger side of the car. “That ready to go, are we?”

“That’s you, isn’t it? The one practically begging me to drive here.” You give him a challenging look.

Joel tuts, the darkness in his eyes deepening as he grips your chin between his fingers. “Don’t act like you didn’t want this just as much as me, sweet girl. Bet you were thinkin’ all day about the next time I could make you come, weren’t you?”

You swallow, and a flush creeps up your face and ears, knowing he’s right. You had been distracted a good portion of the day, as usual, thinking about Joel. Without even realizing, you’re nodding and rocking your hips on his leg, the miniskirt you’re wearing offering almost no buffer between your pussy and his jeans.

“Thought so,” he murmurs, snaking a hand into your hair, gripping the back of your head and stroking his fingers delicately.

“How long do we have?” you ask breathlessly as the pleasure is already building in between your legs while you move.

“Long enough to make you come two times, at least,” he says, his voice so low and fucking enticing right now along with that smirk plastered on his face. You moan lightly, feeling the material of his jeans bunching up in just the right spot to rub on your clit. You almost stop, seeing him look down to watch your hips gyrating on him like this so shamelessly. His eyes sparkle with approval for your tiny skirt now draped over your legs in a way that leaves little to the imagination as you continue moving on him. Joel starts to pull your shirt up and over your head and you don’t protest, letting him toss it onto the passenger’s seat before he does the same to your bra, leaving you in just the skirt, your tits bouncing lightly in his face as you grind on him.

“Don’t stop, beautiful girl, keep using me. Make yourself come,” he says, tilting his head towards you and brushing his lips along your cheek. It’s so light, but it sends tingles and sparks all down your body. His lips meet yours and suck hard on your bottom lip before he devours you with a passionate kiss. Your hips respond along with your lips, sending them thrusting forward in quicker stokes onto his thigh.

“Ride my thigh, baby, and afterwards…” he says, teasing you with the trail-off sentence and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

“Afterwards…?” you echo, desperate to hear more from him.

“After you come, I’m gonna fill you with this cock so deep that you can only think to scream my name as you come again and again,” he finishes, and you moan out in pure pleasure at the way his words add on exponentially to the feel of your cunt grinding against him. He reaches around and grabs your ass with one hand, gripping it tightly and forcing your hips forward into him with even quicker thrusts. You flutter your eyes and lean into it, letting him help you close the gap to your quickly approaching climax.

“Fuckin’ tiny little skirt, you know what you’re doin’ to me, don’t you, sweet girl?” he murmurs, watching the fabric of it move with your hips. “Perfect for me to get a look at this pussy usin’ my thigh like the desperate little thing you are.” You can only moan in response, already completely undone by him, and truthfully, you never stand a chance when it comes to Joel.

Joel’s hands slide up your thighs, reaching under your skirt, then lifting your body up to adjust you in a position to get your underwear off. You whimper at the sudden change, your pussy clenching around nothing as the stimulation on your clit stops. You look at him desperately with dazed eyes and your jaw hanging slack.

“Hang on, sweet girl,” he coos breathlessly, finally getting your underwear down your legs. “Need to see your needy little cunt dripping all over my leg.” He puts you back on his thigh, your slick folds immediately soaking into his jeans as you move frantically to reach for the pleasure you were feeling moments ago. You sigh a quiet moan as your clit rubs on the fabric again. Joel’s hand slithers back onto your bare ass underneath your skirt and squeezes tightly, a groan slipping from his lips.

“Atta girl, look at you,” he says, peering down in between your legs. “Makin’ a mess all over me, aren’t you? Shameless little thing, gettin’ so wet because of me.”

His voice now vibrates against your neck, where he’s brushing his lips until they reach right under your ear. The feel of his lips on such a sensitive spot has you trembling, barreling right into your orgasm. You moan louder, riding Joel’s leg hard as your hips push down into his thigh with each thrust while waves of pleasure overtake you with a fiery, tingling sensation. Even on just his leg, the climax he brings out of you is unlike anything else. You loll your head to the side lazily, looking at him with quick breaths as your climax subsides.

Joel takes one look at your heady stare and reaches down to his belt, undoing it and unzipping his jeans, opening them as wide as they’ll go around his hips. You lick your lips in anticipation when he pulls his cock out and you see just how hard he is. He swiftly moves you to straddle his hips, and within moments he’s resting against your folds, his thick head rubbing down them and getting coated in your wetness. You shudder at the movement over your currently oversensitive nerves and let out a small, whining noise.

He starts teasing you with small strokes, just dipping the head in and out as he lurches his hips off the seat, looking at you expectantly. You can see how much he needed this, though, as his eyes flutter for a moment, giving him away. He’s holding your hips tightly, not allowing you to move freely onto him, just giving you exactly what he wants to at the moment. You gasp quietly with the need for him already blazing through you again, and you’re not getting enough of him yet. You wriggle down a little further in his grasp, sliding more of him into you.

“Easy now,” Joel warns, tightening his grip on you enough to leave a mark if he doesn’t let up. “You gonna be a good girl for me and follow my lead so I can take care of you? Or are you gonna find out what happens if you don’t?”

You nod half heartedly, and he gives you an unimpressed look, wanting you to elaborate. “I’ll be good, be your good girl” you breathe out, trying to go slightly limp so he’s able to control your movements better.

“Okay, then,” he says quietly, loosening his hold on your hips slightly and pushing into your pussy further. A groan releases from his lips, his throbbing cock finally finding some relief inside of you. He thrusts in further now, your angle on top of him allowing you to be absolutely full of him as his cock pushes in all the way to the hilt. You can’t believe you can even take it like this, being on top like this allows him even further in than you could’ve imagined when you first saw the size of him.

A low, guttural moan slips out of you before you can even stop it as you sink down as far as you can go onto his cock again. “Oh m-my-'' you try to speak, but Joel shushes you, a hand flying off your hip to gently put a finger to your lips. He stops moving his hips, a small form of punishment for you, and you whine a little.

“I said I only wanna hear my name coming from that mouth, baby,” he says, dark eyes boring into you. You immediately simmer a little, despite enjoying the way he takes control of everything like this. His finger rests on your mouth still, but you crane your neck forward and take it into your mouth, sucking all the way down it before sliding back, releasing it from your mouth. The look he gives you is absolutely devastating, and he fucks you hard now, driving all the need he’s been feeling all day into your cunt with long, quick strokes. He wraps his arms around you, drawing your body flush with his before sliding his hands down your back and landing on your waist again. He uses his hands on your hips to continuously pull you onto him, and it fucking hurts, but in the best way possible as he fills you up completely over and over. Your head is tucked into his neck as he pumps into you, and you can feel the closeness of your bodies rubbing on your clit now, sending even more waves of pleasure and a swirling heat deep inside of you. Joel’s letting you move more on your own now as you find a pace that is absolutely perfect for your aching clit.

“Joel…” you moan quietly into his ear, feeling the build up to your climax becoming more intense. “Joel,” you say again, trying to urge him to not stop what he’s doing to you.

“C’mon baby, let me feel you squeeze that little pussy around this cock,” he says, or commands, even, pushing his hips into you at the slightest change in angle, which sends you careening off the edge into pure bliss as he hits deep inside of you. You cry out, pressing yourself as close as you can possibly get, hoping to fuse your bodies together in the heat of this moment. He presses again and again on the spot, absolutely undoing you with every new thrust of his hips.

“Joel! Fuck, Joel, I’m-,” you scream out, your whole body trembling under the intensity of the climax rushing through you. You’re lost for the moment, unable to even remember where you are, only focused on the fact that you’re practically seeing stars right now as Joel fucks the best orgasm out of you that you’ve ever felt. Your entire pussy feels painfully oversensitive now, and you’re about to try and squirm off his lap but he continues pumping into you, his cock continuing to press on your g-spot. He holds your waist with one arm, snaking his free hand in between your legs to play with your clit. You can feel sweat forming all over your body as the intensity becomes too much, pleasurable fire burning through you with every new movement Joel makes.

“I c-can’t -” you try to push out the words but they’re lost in between a moan that trails into another earth shattering climax as you shudder onto Joel’s lap, loudly slapping your two bodies together as you come hard onto his cock.

“See? You can, baby. Fucking take it,” Joel gasps out, and you can sense that any moment, he’s going to find his pleasure along with you. He grunts, long and low as his cock is pressed all the way inside of you, releasing himself with a few more quick thrusts. You sigh contentedly at the feeling of it, his throbbing cock and cum being all yours for just this fleeting moment.

You two sit for a few moments, unmoving as you catch your breath. You finally look him in the eyes, and Joel takes in your flushed cheeks and thinks this might be his favorite sight of all time, seeing the way you look at him after he completely shatters your world several times in a row. His look quickly switches to sympathetic, and you catch the hint.

“You have to go?” you ask timidly and Joel nods slightly with a half hearted smile.

“Wouldn’t mind a break from work like this once and a while, though,” he says with a smirk, and you find it in yourself to return the smile despite feeling a tug at your heart that you have to leave him again.

“Sounds like a deal to me,” you reply, scooting back on his lap slightly. You start to climb over the console into the passenger seat, and when your ass is level with his face, Joel gets a look up your skirt at your swollen pussy leaking his cum as you go.

“Fuck,” he mutters, clenching his fists. You’re almost across to the other seat but you pause, turning your head back to look at him.

“What?” you ask teasingly, leaving the view a few moments longer, even popping your ass up a little higher so that he gets a better look.

“You’d better move right now, if you know what’s good for you,” he says, his jaw tensing up. You peer over your shoulder enough to blatantly look down at his cock, still out of his jeans, which twitches in its half hard state. “Stop,” he commands, but you don’t move, only give him a small smirk.

“Stop what? Putting my pussy right in your face?” you ask, slyly glancing down at his cock again to see it getting harder.

“That’s exactly what, you little fuckin’ brat. Knowing I have to go, and shoving your cum soaked little pussy in my face.” Joel’s hands twitch, the desire to grab your hips and shove his face right between your legs is threatening to take over him. You roll your hips back, and he grabs hard onto your thigh, stopping you.

“Stop. It. I don’t want to ask again,” he says, low and gravelly, his eyes meeting yours after glancing between your legs again.

“Or what?” you ask, trying to sound sweet. “Gonna make me ride your thigh again?”

“Get out of my car, sweet girl, before you really get in trouble,” he says, his voice frighteningly controlled. You finally give in, pouting as you finish climbing over to the passenger’s seat.

“I’ll deal with your teasing ass later,” he warns you, and it’s exactly what you wanted to hear. Ever since he’d confirmed to you he also gets turned on by this type of behavior, you’d been dying to try it out and see how he reacted. His vague promise to deal with you later sends a little thrill through you as you put back on all your discarded clothing. He reaches over to your face, holding it for a long, aggressive kiss, full of his still pent up sexual frustration. As you get out, before shutting the door, he gives you a cocky look.

“I said twice… but I counted three times,” he says, and you scoff, rolling your eyes openly at him before shutting the car door harder than you need to.

“Show off,” you mouth through the glass of the window before making your way back to your car.

You’re woken up suddenly that night, a hand gripping your wrists above your head. You should be afraid, but you know exactly who it is and what awaits you, so you smile, tired eyes glancing up to see Joel standing over you, leaned down over your bed. You’d left your door unlocked, wanting to grant him easy access to you.

“Been wondering when you’d show up,” you mumble, blinking a few times to wake yourself up. You knew Joel would turn up after his warning earlier, so like last time you waited for him, you chose something enticing to wear to bed - this time a small black slip and matching underwear.

Joel lets out a scoff, chuckling. “So we’re starting out like that, huh?” He moves his body, not taking his hand off your wrists, climbing onto the bed and straddling you on top of the thin sheet that covers you.

“You gonna keep your wrists right there for me if I let go, be a good girl?”

You nod, looking up at his face, only inches from yours. He gives you a crooked smile and releases your wrists, sliding his body down yours to give enough room to pull back the sheet. He takes in the outfit you chose just for him and sighs almost painfully when his eyes land on your hardened nipples poking through the silk fabric and your body barely being covered by the tiny slip.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he mumbles to himself as he repositions himself back over top of your hips. “Now, are you gonna let me play with you, or be a little brat like earlier?”

You wet your lips and drag your teeth gently across them before widening your eyes. “Depends…” you say casually, and Joel grunts, pressing his hips down into you harder, pinning you further into the bed.

“What happened to bein’ a good, obedient girl for me hm?” he says through clenched teeth. “Isn’t that what makes you come so hard for me?”

His words send a wave of heat through you, your thighs clenching slightly under his heavy body, unable to find any relief from it as his hips crush into your further.

“I’m sure I’ll learn to be good by the end of this,” you say back, low and raspy, hardly able to believe the person that Joel turns you into when he talks to you like this.

“I’ll make sure of it,” he says, low and gravelly, a threat you are confident he will succeed at. Your hips are writhing and rising off the bed as much as his body on top of you is allowing, and he cocks an eyebrow.

“Bet you’re already wet for me, aren’t you?” he says upon feeling the tension in your hips and thighs. You want to touch him, want to run your hands through his hair and scratch down his back just to release some of this built up feral-like energy you’re feeling towards him. His eyes shoot up to where your hands twitch, one of them starting to move.

He tuts and reaches up and grabs a hold of your wrists again, stopping your hands from reaching him. You feel a thrill rush through you at the way he’s been moving, so confidently and dominating towards you, like he has this entire night already planned out. Your chest heaves with anticipation, and you’re finding yourself speechless.

“Guess I will have to use this if you’re not gonna listen to me,” he says, suddenly reaching down off the bed and to the floor, where he brings up a long piece of fabric. Your mouth opens to protest, and he shoots you a warning look, his eyes completely darkened with desire. You snap your mouth shut, relaxing your hands and arms as he gets to work tying your wrists together. It’s tight enough that you can’t move freely, your wrists completely immobile above your head.

“That’s better,” he smirks, and you find yourself nodding with wide eyes, unable to even read what his next move could possibly be. A strange, primal fear crops up inside of you, and you feel the urge to try and get out of the situation, despite knowing Joel would never hurt you.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you whimper as he leans down to your neck tracing his tongue up from your collarbone to underneath your chin. You shiver violently at the sudden feel of his warm tongue, your nipples hardening even further under your slip and your legs clamping together tighter.

“I don’t believe you.” He enunciates each word in a deathly calm tone, continuing working his mouth on your neck, brushing his lips along the skin. He takes a bit of skin into his mouth and starts sucking before you can protest.

“N-no, not s-somewhere my parents can see again,” you cry out, hoping to avoid the embarrassment of the other day.

“You don’t get to make requests right now, sweetheart,” Joel says, barely lifting his mouth off of you to speak. He moves to the other side of your neck, sucking hard before moving to another spot further down and doing the same thing. Even with the worry of covering the marks up, you can’t help but fall into the pleasure of his mouth taking you in over and over. His mouth moves to the swell of your breast, doing the same thing until… he’s not. His mouth clamps down, teeth digging into you slightly and you yelp out a breathy moan.

“F-fuck, Joel,” you whimper, but he doesn’t respond, just continues marking you over and over, biting a few more times. It’s a slow, lingering ecstasy every single time his mouth clamps and sucks onto your skin, and you’ve lost count of how many marks he’s leaving on you. He brushes his fingers lightly over the top lace trim of your slip, pulling it down slowly on one side, revealing your breast. He makes a small hum as he takes it in with his eyes before his mouth begins devouring your nipple, slow, swirling movements with his tongue. You cry out, the build up to this having already been so intense that you think you’re already almost being pushed to your limits.

“Baby, baby, already so worked up and we’re barely getting started…” he coos before sucking harder on your nipple. You cry out again, breathing heavily and knowing now with certainty what Joel is going to do to you tonight, and it’s about to be the most pleasurable pain you’ve experienced. He’s going to bring you to the brink and back so many times you’ll forget everything else that exists, a thought that both scares you and enthralls you. You swallow hard as he pulls the slip down on the other side, repeating the motions on your other breast. His hand comes up and plays with one nipple while his mouth is on the other and your hips buck up, searching for something they aren’t going to find right now.

“P-please,” you whisper, already ready to crumple up under the pure pleasure you’re feeling, and Joel isn’t even anywhere near your now soaked cunt yet.

“I already said, you don’t get to make requests if you aren’t going to be a good girl for me,” he retorts, eyes meeting yours.

“Touch me,” you beg, wanting to egg him on.

“Ask again and see what happens,” he says slowly, a dark, devious look flashing on his face.

Your mouth opens to speak and he cocks an eyebrow, immediately reaching his hands up and tightening the bonds on your wrists.

“That’s what I thought, sweet girl,” he growls, moving himself down your body and taking his eyes off your face to look over your body, half exposed, your slip riding up your legs from him straddling you.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he starts as his hands explore hungrily over your hips, sides, and thighs, “I’m gonna make you come so many times you’ll really be beggin’, not like last time I said that. And even when you’re beggin’, I’m not gonna stop. You’re gonna be a good girl and come as many times as I want you to, okay?”

You inhale a shaky breath, eyes wide at what he’s proposing to you, a sick, eager feeling swirling deep inside your core. You finally nod, small jerking movements of your head as your breathing gives away how nervous you are.

“Shh,” he says, stroking your hair lovingly, the look in his eye changing rapidly and softening. “Promise I’ll make it good for you, baby. You trust me, right?” he says, looking sincerely into your eyes. You swallow hard again, but know you can trust him, so you nod, a silent confirmation that from here on out, what Joel says goes, no matter what.

Your confirmation sends him moving, his hands on either side of your thighs, pushing the fabric of your nightgown up until it’s over your hips and your panties are exposed. He chuckles appreciatively at seeing the tiny thong you’re wearing is an exact match to the slip, little lace details and silky black fabric.

“You gorgeous fuckin’ thing,” he murmurs, sliding his finger into the side strap of your underwear, admiring it. “Wearin’ all your special stuff for me hopin’ to get in my good graces, huh?”

You can’t help but smile, toes curling slightly at his sensual tone while he snaps the thin band of the thong back in place. “Y-you like it?” you ask timidly.

“Sure do, sweet girl. Your little plan is working,” he says with a smirk. His fingers move slowly, so much so that it’s almost painful, as he traces up your thighs and lightly touches all around the edges of your panties. You have half a mind to beg for more, but you bite your tongue, settling on small whimpering noises that seem to urge Joel on all the same.

“Makes me crazy when you sound like that, baby, so fuckin’ needy,” he says, and you don’t have a reply that isn’t begging him to sink his fingers inside of your aching pussy, so you stay quiet.

“I think you’re ready for more, don’t you?” he says teasingly, and you nod enthusiastically, your head leaned back on the bed while you pant heavily. His fingers gently stroke the fabric of your underwear, the silk soft under his fingers but completely soaked through. “Oh…” he cries out quietly, feeling the evidence of just how much you want him. You are already about to cry out just from this small touch, continuing to whine out small moans.

Joel’s fingers hook under the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs painfully slowly, revealing you to him. He sighs at the sight of your glistening, swollen cunt, all his for the taking. “Baby…” he murmurs in disbelief. You simply writhe slightly, your hips moving of their own accord, looking to find any bit of relief from the aching, pulsing torture you’re feeling in between your legs.

Joel physically lifts your thighs and moves them, positioning them wide open for him as he kneels in between your legs. You think you’re shaking, but you can’t even tell as your whole body buzzes with anticipation when you see his hand moving up in between your legs. The sound you make as he runs a finger from the top to the bottom of your slit is unlike anything you’ve ever made before. Your breathing hitches when he goes back in, doing the same motion, intently watching your face. Your neck is craned to try and see his hand moving, but from your flat angle it’s tough to see much of anything. As soon as it starts, it stops, and you want to cry, pound your fists and demand for the full pleasure he’s trying to milk out of you.

“Patience, baby,” he murmurs as he brings his mouth up to give some attention to your nipples, which are painfully hard as he sucks on them alternately through your slip. His hand gently guides the fabric down enough over one of your tits to admire it, gently cupping it with his hand. You’re nearly yelling at him to touch you when his fingers dip back into your folds, rubbing your clit slowly and gently, eliciting another whining sound from you. It’s barely a whisper of a touch, but you already feel it coming, barely enough time to register it before you start moaning and shuddering your cunt down onto his fingers, clenching around nothing as his fingers circle your most sensitive spot. You ride this first orgasm through all of its built up bliss, but it was gentle, tame, compared to what you know is coming.

“Look at that, my good fucking girl,” Joel says bringing his mouth right next your ear, and you shiver, an electric spark traveling up your spine. “One down,” he says quietly, not letting up on his movements. One finger teases your entrance, pushing in slightly and then retreating - he repeats it several times, leaving you breathless with want before he finally pushes the finger in fully.

“Oh, yes,” you whisper quietly, and Joel responds with a low hum, adding a second finger and dragging them in and out, spending a few moments pressing right on your g-spot every time he enters you. Your eyes open wide and then flutter shut, and Joel’s other hand reaches inside his jeans and fists his cock, moving it to the best of his ability with the restriction of his waistband just to provide any relief on his aching dick. He groans slightly as he moves his hand along his length, staring at the way your pussy is taking his fingers.

“Look what you do to me baby, got me so worked up I can’t even wait,” he says, and you can only see the outline of his hand moving along his cock inside of his pants. His thumb lands back on your clit, starting to rub again in wide, slow circles as he slows down his fingers inside of you as well. You’re reeling from the sudden change, and you can see Joel smiling at the reaction on your face.

“You want to beg, don’t you, baby?” he says, and you feel a pulse of desire at his words.

You nod, a small whimper coming out as he presses harder on your clit for just a moment and your hips buck forward.

“Go ahead,” he says with a crooked grin, “Beg me.”

You breathe in shakily, your whole body tense and on the cusp of another climax. “Please, Joel…” you say quietly.

“Please Joel what?” he says, an intentional bit of impatience laced in his tone.

“Faster, go faster,” you breathe out. Joel starts moving his fingers slightly faster, and you let out a small moan.

“Like this?” he asks, knowing it’s not even close to the speed you were begging for. You shake your head, just enough for him to see. “You want me to pound into this soaking little cunt, don’t you?” You nod, feeling completely driven by another force, the part of you that is wholly Joel’s in this moment.

He quickly pulls his hand out of his pants, fully focusing on you again as he does as he says, moving his fingers quickly and roughly for several moments before pressing onto your g-spot in pulsing movements, and you cry out, hardly able to believe the absolute unhindered pleasure he can pull out of you.

“It’s t-too much,” you push out with a strained voice, your hips rising into his touch. He continues the routine - fucking you hard with his fingers, then applying a devastating amount of pressure right on that perfect spot. You’re moaning loudly before you even realize it, an orgasm rolling up from deep inside of you, right where Joel is touching. He brings his mouth down as soon as he hears you yelling and flicks your clit with his tongue, continuing to push his fingers inside of you. It intensifies everything to have the warmth of his mouth suddenly on your bundle of nerves right in the middle of your climax, and you could cry with the way it’s overtaking your entire being in this moment.

“Joel…” you whisper as soon as the waves of pleasure subside. You’re laying back, body slack and eyes closed. You don’t know how you’re going to be able to take more of this until Joel is satisfied with how many times you’ve come.

“Yes, baby?” he says. His tongue is tracing along your inner thighs, giving you a brief reprieve.

“How many more?” you ask him quietly, and he chuckles deviously.

“Wouldn’t be any fun if I told you, would it?” he replies before sinking his mouth down onto your cunt and absolutely feasting on you. You yelp at the sudden change, bucking your hips into his mouth as the oversensitivity from your last two orgasms lingers. You whine as Joel gently laps at your wetness, sliding his tongue in and out of you. He’s being gentle now, able to tell how oversensitive you are as your hips scoot and writhe to try and get some distance from the feeling. His hands reach up and grip your hips hard, allowing almost no movement now. Joel’s tongue flicks you lightly right on your clit, alternating with slow, dragging circles with the tip of his tongue. You’re panting, whining cries coming out in between each one as he’s somehow starting to draw another orgasm out of you. An explosion of pleasure takes over you once again, and Joel starts sucking hard on your clit as you come onto his face, your hips spasming down into him. You’re in absolute agonizing pleasure, burning from the inside and your quick breaths leave you slightly dizzy as you come down another time.

Joel lifts his face from between your legs, and his eyes say he’s far from done. You want to cry suddenly - you can’t even tell if this is possible, if you could even come again no matter what Joel tries. His eyes bore into you as you look down at him, a plea on the tip of your tongue, but his dark expression quiets you.

Joel climbs off the bed and stands near your head, picking you up underneath the shoulders and sitting you on the edge of the bed.

“Keep those arms up, just one more second, sweet girl. You’re doin’ so well,” he says, kissing the top of your head. You just stare up at him, glassy eyed, swaying where you sit. Joel lifts your slip from the bottom, peeling it off of you and over your head. He pulls your still tied together wrists down and rests them in your lap before pulling you up off the bed to stand in front of him. He takes a step back and just looks at you, standing naked before him, hungry eyes roaming over your chest.

“A-aren’t you taking anything off?” you ask, wanting to feel his warm, bare skin against you. Joel simply smirks, but he takes off his shirt promptly, throwing you a bone. He closes the gap between you two and cups your cheek, kissing you delicately on the lips. His tongue slowly slides past his lips and into your mouth, making slow moves against your own tongue. His thumb strokes the skin along your chin, and you’re melting into just how gentle he’s being right now. A small moan slips out from deep in your throat, and you can feel Joel smile against your lips.

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he whispers right against your mouth. Somehow, your body is still responding to him when he slides a hand down between you two and gently rubs along your folds. “Still so wet for me…” he groans, moving his hand from between your legs to undo his jeans, stepping out of both those and his briefs. Your breathing immediately quickens at seeing him bare before you, his hard cock jutting out and more than ready for you. Your eyes linger on it, and Joel looks more than pleased by the still eager look on your face.

“Haven’t had enough? Still my cock hungry little thing, aren’t you?” he asks you, fisting his cock and giving you a teasing look. You reach forward your hands, despite them being tied together, trying to touch him. Joel lets out a tut, grabbing your wrists hard.

“You were doin’ so well, weren’t you? Can’t help it when it comes to my cock, can ya? Filthy little brat,” he tilts his head, examining you with narrowed eyes.

“Maybe I don’t want to follow your orders anymore,” you say with a smirk, pouting your lips a bit. Joel’s throat makes a low growl before he inhales a long, steady breath.

“You know we can’t have that, angel. Cause you like doin’ what I say, when I say it, and you know it. That’s what gets you soakin’ wet for me. And lettin’ you be my good girl gets my cock so hard for that tight little cunt of yours,” he says, pumping his hand along his cock when he speaks. You whimper, feeling the need for him to fill you start to overcome you.

You cast your eyes down slightly. “I’ll be good,” you say quietly.

“I’ll make sure of it after you learn your lesson, baby. Was gonna take those off,” he says, gesturing to your restraints, “Until you just had to act up, didn’t you?”

You frown despite feeling the thrill of his proposition rushing through you. You suddenly turn around, reaching your hands forward and placing them onto the mattress, baring your ass and backside to him. You hear a low chuckle escape Joel, and he comes forward, grabbing your hips and pressing himself flush with your ass.

“Didn't tell you to turn around,” he growls.

“Oops,” you say casually, grinding your ass into him, feeling the hardness of his rock rub into you.

“Alright, that’s it,” he says, removing one of his hands from your hips and immediately bringing it back down to smack your ass. You moan louder than you mean to as the sting hits you, and it prompts Joel to smack again in the same spot. You lean further into the bed, giving Joel the perfect view of your ass sticking up just for him. He rubs his cock in between your legs, the length of him pushing back and forth through your slick folds, and he smacks again, on your other ass cheek this time. You let out a sound that’s half a moan and half a whimper.

“You like bein’ punished, don’t you baby?” Joel says with a low chuckle. “Want me to fuck you so hard you have no choice but to be my good girl again?”

“Yes,” you whine, unable to think of anything else other than what he’s proposing. Your mind is a blank slate for him to write on, put whatever ideas he wants right onto it, and you’ll blindly follow. “Wanna be your good little slut,” you say in the same whimpering tone, and Joel grinds his hips into you with a needy groan slipping past his lips. He’s getting impatient too, you can feel it, hear it in the little noises he’s making. The head of his cock is right there, right where you want it, and you’re tempted to push back enough to get it inside of you, but you know that’ll only delay things if Joel thinks you’re trying to act out of line. Those aren’t the rules tonight, you remind yourself - Joel’s cock is only going inside of you when he decides it’s time.

You don’t have to wait much longer, because your words seem to have spurred him on, causing him to slowly push himself inside of you. You let out a relieved moan as he begins to fill you up, the feeling you were so desperate for. Only mere moments later he’s driven his cock up to the hilt, allowing you just a single moment of adjustment before he begins thrusting his hips, your slickness coating his shaft as he moves in and out of you.

“So fuckin’ wet and tight, baby,” he says roughly, picking up the pace. You’re pushed down onto the bed, practically unable to move anywhere with the way Joel’s body and the restraints are holding you in place. “Dream about this little pussy every minute I’m not in it,” he moans out, lost in his pleasure as he rolls his hips with every thrust into you. He lifts your hips up slightly, forcing you to press the front half of yourself further down into the bed, but as soon as he thrusts in, you gasp at the way he’s hitting deep inside of you. His rough, fast thrusts hitting your g-spot over and over are practically making you go limp, only able to bounce your hips back into him to force him as deep as he can go.

“Fuck,” you cry out, feeling the familiar sensation building inside of you. You moan out a loud, long noise as it crescendos to a breaking point and you yell out Joel’s name, feeling your entire body light up with pleasure again, the feeling deep inside of you rolling out waves of euphoria. Another familiar feeling strikes you and you know you’re squirting again, something only Joel has been able to pull out of you when he devastates you this badly. Your entire body trembles with the intensity of your climax, seeming to go on for an eternity as his cock slams into you repeatedly.

“Christ,” Joel mumbles, hearing your guttural moans, feeling the way you’re coming and squirting for him as he continues to force his cock deep inside of you. “Fuck, baby, gonna make me come already with all that,” he says.

“Wanna feel your cum in me,” you whimper dazedly, tumbling down from your orgasm with only half of your faculties intact right now.

“Not yet, baby, we’ve still got more to go,” he coos, slowing his thrusts. You breathe in raggedly, blinking slowly as you process his words.

“No…not more…can’t…” you say quietly, and Joel strokes a hand down your back soothingly.

“Already told you how this is gonna go tonight, sweetheart,” he replies, his hand continuing down, rubbing circles on your ass now.

“I’m good yet?” you ask, slurring a bit now.

“You’re very good, baby, look how good you just came for me. Made a damn mess all over, naughty little thing,” he assures you, reaching around you and gently stroking your clit. Your hips jerk at the hypersensitivity caused by him shattering you with several orgasms already, but it still feels good, somehow, so you melt into it for a moment, letting Joel stroke you softly as he slides in and out of you at the same, slow pace.

“Yeah…” you murmur, never wanting this feeling of him to end, unable to believe you’re even able to conceive the thought of another orgasm right now.

“Yeah, baby? Still lookin’ for more?”

“Dunno, can’t even think…” you trail off, fluttering your eyes shut.

“S’okay, I can do all the thinkin’ for us,” he counters, and you smile wryly, then nod. He pulls out quickly and then maneuvers you, flipping your body back over and seating you on the edge of the bed. “Got any toys, sweet girl? Ones you use when you think of me and make yourself come?” Joel asks. You blink for a moment, still feeling a bit delirious, then give him a nod.

“In the drawer,” you tell him, nodding your head towards your bedside drawer. Joel reaches over and opens it to see your several different vibrators and toys and tuts amusedly.

“Naughty girl,” he chuckles, shaking his head. He pulls out a small bullet vibrator, holding it between his fingers and inspecting it for a moment. “Gonna need this,” he comments, moving back over to you and positioning himself in front of you. He lifts your still restrained wrists and places them over his head so they’re resting on his neck, immobilizing you even further. He leans down, enough for his cock to find your entrance again, pushing back in. You flutter your eyes, feeling a mix of overstimulation and pleasure as your pussy clenches around him. Joel’s arm lifts you from under your thighs, tilting your hips up for him as he begins moving inside of you. He looks in your eyes and clicks on the vibrator, moving his hips in steady thrusts. You gasp as he touches it above your clit, slowly sliding it up and down, buzzing your clit periodically. Your hips are already shuddering, writhing, unclear on what direction they even want to go - into or away from the now achy pleasure.

“I can’t, it’s - t-too much Joel.”

He tuts again and shakes his head. “I know, baby, but I think I wanna get at least one more out of you. I know you’ve got it in you, sweet girl,” he says warmly, tucking his head down to plant a kiss on your lips. You reciprocate the kiss, almost by instinct, feeling completely out of it in the best way possible right now.

You let out a little whine the next time Joel brushes the vibrator over your clit, but he leaves it there instead, sending your hips shaking as the bundle of nerves there responds to being stimulated yet again. He rubs little circles, clicking the vibrator speed up and you cry out, the ends of your fingers curling down towards his back but unable to reach with the way they’re tied up.

“Another one, baby, you can do it,” Joel says, steadily thrusting into you, pushing his cock just as deep as he has been, and you think it could be too much. Your whole body is overwhelmed with feeling but you realize as you go slightly rigid and curl your toes you’re somehow climaxing again, the intensity of the vibrator carrying you through it as you moan and whimper under Joel’s strong hold. Joel smirks down at you, eyes completely glazed now, but he doesn’t let up yet. It’s his turn now, as he thrusts into you and you breathe heavily with pleasure, still enjoying the fullness you feel as his cock pumps in and out of your cunt. Your hips are twitching as you register Joel isn’t giving you a chance to even breathe as the vibrator pushes down on your clit again.

The sound you let out is nothing like you’ve ever heard leave your lips before, a strangled, high pitched moan as little shocks of pleasure start to rock through you again.

“Yeah baby, one more for me, I’m gonna come in that pussy. C‘mon sweet girl, gimme one more while I fill you up,” he says, his voice low and husky as he buries his cock into you and comes hard. You shake in his grip, your body barely able to hold up at all as you continue the ungodly sounds you’ve been making and miraculously come one final time. Joel collapses onto you and you blink heavily, staring past his head at the ceiling, trying to compose yourself. Your eyes slowly close, leaving you half conscious as you feel Joel breathe against you, his heaving chest coming back down to a normal pace. You let him move your body as he needs, lifting your arms from around his head and gently untying the restraint and you flex your wrists before lazily dragging them down his arms just to feel him there with you. He pulls out and hoists you onto the bed with him, tucking you under his arms and holding you tightly, both of your sticky bodies pressed as close as they can get.

This form of intimacy is what always strikes you - these moments after, when Joel holds you and tends to you like you’re something so precious, so breakable. Your heart is slowly melting as he holds you now, your body tired and overworked by him but you’ve never been happier, you think, than this moment right here.

“My good girl,” he whispers, stroking lovingly along every part of your body he can touch. “So, so good for me. Can’t believe I get to have this,” he continues, kissing the top of your head and forehead lightly, his lips just grazing over the spot.

“Y’think so?” you mutter quietly, still unable to even crack your eyes open.

“Mhm, I do, darlin’,” he replies, “You know I do.”

“Say it again…” you say, your head lolling down into him further, feeling sleep inching closer and closer.

“So lucky to have my good girl,” Joel says, a hint of a smile in his voice as he brushes his fingers to tuck your hair behind your ear now.

“Mmhmmm,” you mumble, and Joel chuckles, staying quiet so that you can slip away into a well deserved rest.

You’re awoken suddenly by a knocking sound, and you gasp, your head whipping up off your pillow. You’re entangled with Joel, your still naked bodies twisted together along with the sheets of your bed. Joel rubs his eyes, glancing up at you with them narrowed with sleep.

“What was that?” he mumbles, shifting slightly to give you more freedom to move.

The knock comes again, softly, and you hear your mom say your name through the door.

Your eyes go wide, and you look down at Joel, urging him silently to move off the bed.

“Just wanted to see if you’re up, honey, it’s getting a bit late for you,” your mom says, and you furrow your brow, noticing the clock on your bedside reading past 8:30. Damn you being an early riser most of the time, you think out of frustration.

“O-one sec,” you croak out, your voice hoarse from sleep. You silently nudge Joel and try to shoo him quickly into the bathroom, which is across from where you bed is and out of sight from the main door. You scurry over to your closet, grabbing your robe and moving towards the door, but you spot Joel’s clothes on the ground, so you quickly gather them up and shove them in his arms where he stands in the dark bathroom. You put a finger to your lips, trying not to laugh as you warn him to be quiet. You pull the collar of the robe up quickly over your neck, trying to cover the various marks you know have to be there from Joel last night.

“Morning, mom,” you say as you open the door and stifle a yawn.

“So you were asleep? Sorry, you’ve been up so early lately I just assumed. Wanted to ask you a few things before we ran out for some errands in a bit.”

“Um, yeah, can I meet you down in the kitchen in a little bit. I want to grab some coffee and then we can chat, is that alright?”

Your mom smiles but then her eyes catch on your body suspiciously, eyeing your robe. “Aren’t you hot?”

Your eyes go round for a moment and you inhale quickly. “I was, yeah. Kind of awkward, I’ve been trying to sleep naked, so I had to grab this when you knocked. It’s supposed to be great for you to sleep like that, I read it in an… article, or something,” you ramble on, touching the back of your neck nervously. Your mom gives you a small, amused smile before shaking her head a little. You don’t know if she’s fully convinced of any of what you’re saying, but she seems willing not to press any further right now.

“Maybe I’ll have to try it,” she says teasingly, and you cringe, not wanting to imagine anything of the sort.

“Ugh, mom,” you say with a little chuckle, and she shrugs in response, completely unbothered.

“Alright, see you at the house in a little bit, then,” she says before sweeping off down the stairs. You shut the door and release a long breath, running a hand down your face.

“Swear she never comes up here like that,” you announce quietly to Joel, who comes out of the bathroom, holding his clothes. He slowly starts putting them back on, grinning at you. You walk over to the bed and sit down, breathing in and out deeply again to calm your shot nerves.

“Healthy to sleep naked, huh?” he asks you, smirking.

“That was actually true, you know. I’ve heard about that before,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Baby, you don’t have to make up reasons to try and get me to sleep naked with you,” Joel replies, cocky as ever.

You glare at him immediately. “It’s true!” you call out, reaching for the nearest pillow on the bed and throwing it at him. It thuds against his chest and he catches it, laughing at you before walking over.

“I’m sure it is,” he says quietly before giving you a quick kiss.

“You’re leaving?” you ask suddenly, able to tell by the way he’s fully dressed and giving you what feels like a goodbye kiss. You know you have to go talk to your parents anyways, but you like to milk every minute you can with him, even if it means just a quick shower together in the morning instead of doing it at your own respective homes.

“Sorry darlin’, gotta go. I know it’s the weekend, but I’ve got lots to catch up with work and stuff ‘round the house,” he tells you, a slightly disappointed look on his face.

You nod, slightly disheartened but understanding. “See you soon?” you ask, your eyes wide and pleading as you walk him to the door.

“Of course, baby. Always.”

You sit and sip coffee at your parents’ kitchen table, absentmindedly scratching their dog Benny behind the ears. He’s clearly itching to go for a walk, and you’ve promised him several times now you’ll go in a few moments. You anxiously touch your neck, as if feeling it will ensure that the hickeys you caked in makeup this morning are still hidden. Either way, you’ve pulled your hair over your neck much more than you’d normally do, hoping to hide anything that may still be visible, and just said a quick prayer that your parents won’t notice.

Your mom is rustling around the kitchen, putting dishes away as she talks to you. Her and your dad are doing some errands today and furniture shopping, and they were hoping you’d be able to take Benny for his walk and had a small list of chores they needed help with - part of your payment for living here rent free.

“Have you talked to any more of the… friends you met when you went out?” your mom asks as she flits around the room, and you pause, trying to recollect what she’s even talking about. You finally remember you’d lied about going out and meeting some people since you’re new to this city.

“Right… uh, no, not really.”

“I just feel like you spend a lot of time, well, alone,” she says, looking at you with concern, eyes wide and sympathetic.

“No, it’s fine, mom. I just needed some time to decompress after moving here, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll meet plenty of people at work,” you try to reassure her, knowing she can go on an anxiety spiral about you at the drop of a hat. The truth is, you’re feeling far from lonely these days with Joel by your side more often than not, but you can’t exactly explain that to her.

“What about those boys working on the bathroom, huh? They’re young and cute, right?” your mom pries, and you shoot her a playful death glare.

“You have got to stop trying to set me up with people,” you tell her with a snort, shaking your head. “But yes, they’re both young and good looking. I’m just not interested.”

“Fine, alright. You know I just want you to be happy.” The issue with your parents having you so young is that they’re still young, and pry into your life every chance they get. Your mom was only twenty when she and your dad had you, so you basically grew up with her, and she’d already had a five year old when she was your age. She doesn’t expect you to follow the same path, but you think sometimes she worries about you finding someone to spend your life with.

“I’m very happy, mom,” you tell her, and she eyes you. You hope that you don’t have some weird post-amazing night of sex glow to you that gives you away. Joel did make you come an insane amount of times last night, and you’re still processing all of it, if you’re honest.

“I know you know this, but…” your mom glances at you, “You know you can talk to me about things, right?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes despite your mom’s very sweet, kind words. “I know that,” you tell her, “If this is still about the hickeys the other week…”

“Well, it is and it isn’t,” she says, shrugging. “Just making sure you’re alright, I know moving here has been a big change.”

“It has, but I’m glad I did it,” you say, trying to smile convincingly and get her off your back. She seems to accept your answer, and goes back to taking stock of the fridge for her and your dad’s grocery run. Your dad comes into the kitchen, looking freshly showered and somewhat out of breath.

“Sick of showering with this damn thing on,” he grumbles down at his leg cast, using his crutches to make his way over to your mom. “Can I help?” he asks her, and you watch them with a smile. Despite being less mobile, he’s always trying to do as much as he can for your mom. He’s the type of person who hates being still and unproductive, so this has been a major adjustment for him.

“Want to check the pantry?” she asks, and he nods, opening the pantry door and checking the usual things they need for the week.

“Oh, by the way, Joel from next door came by and invited us to his July Fourth cookout,” your dad throws over his shoulder at you. When the hell did that sneaky bastard manage to do that? It must have been after he got done with work sometime yesterday in the evening when you’d been busy on a video chat with Sofia for a while. She was excited, to say the least, about your recent developments with Joel. She nearly fainted when you’d mentioned he took you out to dinner.

You pause, choosing your words carefully. “Cool, that’ll be fun for you guys,” you say nonchalantly, taking a sip from your coffee.

“He was adamant about inviting you, too. All three of us,” your mom chimes in.

“Oh, well that’s very nice of him,” you say, fiddling with your hands in your lap now, trying to stay poised. Just the mention of him makes it hard for you to keep your composure, afraid you’ll have some tell, some dead giveaway that you’re absolutely infatuated with the man.

“Thought you two seemed to be friendly with him working in the house, so it isn’t a surprise, right?” your dad says.

You smile slightly and nod. “Right,” you tell them. Friendly. “We’ve talked a little bit, I guess.”

“Seemed like you two had a long conversation the other day,” your mom says, eyeing you skeptically with what looks like a twinkle in her eye. Shit shit shit shit your brain repeats over and over, a dull roaring filling your ears. There’s no way she’s onto you, she’s barely even seen you and Joel interact. You have to be imagining things out of paranoia, you try to convince yourself. You realize you’re sitting quietly, not responding to your mom’s comment, so you open your mouth to speak, but your dad beats you to it.

“So you’re good with that, then? We can all go over there together that day?” he asks.

“Sure, yeah, that sounds good,” you spit out too quickly. “I’m, uh, going to take Benny now. He’s been whining since I walked in here. See you guys later.” You quickly stand and place your mug in the dishwasher before grabbing Benny’s leash and rushing towards the front door with him.

You don’t know exactly why you’re hiding this thing with Joel from your parents at this point. You know they’re open minded, but you don’t know how they would react to you choosing to be with someone so close to their age. They’ve always been pretty relaxed as parents, but they have a strong protective streak over you, especially since you’re their only child. You worry that they’d try and stop you from seeing Joel, not understanding that his intentions are good and he isn’t some kind of older predator, or whatever twisted thing they may come up with. You two lying about your relationship for a while now wouldn’t help matters, either.

You look down at Benny enjoying his walk in the early morning sun as you try to clear your head, but can’t help but return to the thoughts wondering when the hell this beautiful, wondering thing might just end up imploding on you.

#joel has a dirty fuckin mouth fr #fic: closer #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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bettsfic · 6 months ago

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Hi, Betts! Apologies if you‘ve already answered something of the sort before, I tend to forget that tumblr exists for a few months every once in a while, so I‘m not super up to date with all the topics you‘ve previously discussed! But. I‘ve been writing fics for a couple of years now and, after getting medicated for my adhd, I‘ve also established a pretty reliable and enjoyable system to finish the (long) fic projects I start! However, every time I try to work on something original, I usually tap out after 5-10k words. The excitement, the itch, the brainrot, the daydreaming, it‘s all there but I just lose my motivation at a certain point. Part of it is that creating and writing original characters is incredibly challenging. I‘m using to having a solid base when I write fic characters so it makes sense that having to come up with that base all by myself is new and slightly overwhelming, but ok, I already have ideas to deal with that. However, there is also the fact that I *know* my original stories won’t see the light of day for a hot while — not like my fics that I get to share on ao3 — and that kills my ends up killing my motivation more often than not… I think! Some of my friends and mutuals have offered to beta/read my original stories, so that could help, but since I‘m here writing this, I still haven’t found that push to properly work on my original wips. (Also, I feel like my original writing style is just 10x worse than my fic style… but maybe that‘s just the normal new project bad kind of writing?) I was wondering if you have dealt with something similar and whether you have any tips and tricks to convince myself that my original wips are fun and worth the effort too? Love your advice and your fics :3

when you've written fanfic for a long time, there's one creative muscle that can atrophy, and that's building parameters. in fanfic, the most ridiculous, far fetched AU is still grounded in some way by the text it's responding to. you're playing a game that more or less already has rules. but in original fiction, you have to write the rules before you can play the game. a lot of times that means you write an entire book to figure out the book you're trying to write, and then you rewrite the book.

i almost always come to a grinding halt at about 10k of any original project because that's how long it takes me to find the parameters of the inciting incident. and once i have the parameters, i start over. usually there's one or two paragraphs i keep and which end up guiding the rest of the project. sometimes the parameters are never set and i have to set the whole thing down until a solution comes to me, which can take months or years.

as for external validation/motivation, if you can find a couple good cheerleaders who will read chapters as you finish them and who get invested in the story you're writing, i find that can offer a simulacrum of the immediate satisfaction of posting/updating a fic. i had to have cheerleaders through my first two original novels. i can motivate myself now and don't need them anymore, but lacking them does make writing original work a very lonely endeavor. but if you have good cheerleaders, do whatever you can to keep them. buy them little trinkets, send them birthday cards, kiss them on the mouth. because that kind of friendship and dedication can be such a rarity in the grand scheme of things.

and as always, writing is an endurance sport. it can take years to build up the patience, discipline, and drive to write a novel. even if it doesn't feel like it, getting down a bunch of false starts is still progress. like chess, it's good to know your opening moves, and that initial 5-10k of parameter-building goes waaaaay faster when you know you're going to scrap it anyway. all you're looking for in those early words is that one paragraph that turns the ignition. and once you're on the road and headed in a direction, there's no better feeling than seeing your word count go up and getting obsessed with your own world and characters.

#also i've said it a hundred times but it's good to write short form for a long time before attempting long form #also also sorry for all the mixed metaphors #writing advice #process #motivation

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fixfoxnox · 1 year ago

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Okay, Luke's somewhat serious post time.

Okay, so recently I've been getting some comments on my Ao3 that have bothered me and I feel like we should talk about comment etiquette again along with some lines of comfort for me.

So first of all, this:

This is not how you ask for more of a fic that you like. I'm already beating myself up over how long its been since I've been able to update things, and having people comment stuff like this on my fics only makes me feel worse.

I am a real person. I have a job and I've been working hard on finishing some commissions that people have PAID me to write. Forgive me if I'm not making the things that I write for free for people in my free time my first priority right now.

I AM absolutely still working on these fics. I've been working on Pyre and some requests in my ask box, but since they aren't my main priority right now its going really slow. I could very easily abandon these fics, but I don't because I love them and I love you guys and writing for you guys. All that I ask in return is that you respect the time and effort that goes into writing these fics.

My 8k-10k fic chapters take like 8 hours to write AT THE LEAST. Like I can't just churn this out like crazy as much as I would like to.

I am fine with people asking if I'm still working on a fic, but not comments like this basically demanding an update.

The next thing:

These were all comments replying to one another on my fic. There are three people in this thread in total and of them, only one of them actually made a comment about my fic.

Two people commented on my fic to essentially have a completely unrelated conversation with someone in my comment section. This is extremely frustrating.

Listen to me, imagine being me and seeing a notification that I got a comment. I get super excited, only to click on it and see that it has nothing to do with the fic that I've written? Its disappointing and so unbelievably discouraging to me.

I don't mind if people don't comment, but I do mind when people do this. Authors comment sections aren't a place to just have a casual chat!!! Keep it about the fic please!

Last thing and for the love of God listen to me:

This is nothing against people with DID. My issue with this falls into 2 categories:

"My one issue is that I'm trans in this, personally would have swapped me and Johnny"

If you are a person with DID and fictives and you read fics with your fictives, you have to understand that I AM NOT WRITING ABOUT YOU.

I do not need your opinion on if I wrote "you" correctly because I am not writing you!! I'm writing the fictional character who I have my own thoughts and beliefs about. If it bothers you, click off. I do not want or need to hear how I got something wrong because its not fucking wrong when it comes to me. Again, extremely discouraging to read.

The second thing and this may sound mean but for the love of God I do not care or need to know if you are a system/have DID. Unless my fic features DID (none of mine do at all) then its just completely unnecessary to mention.

I especially don't need to know which of your alters is talking. Unless I know you, there is genuinely no point to it. It just takes up space and makes things about you rather than about the fic you're commenting on.

Also, in this case? As someone who has been cursed by online role-playing in comment sections, even though this isn't it just feels like role-playing and it makes me extremely uncomfortable.

Please just leave your comment and move on. Unless it has something to do with the fic, I don't need to know this stuff about you. I've had people tell me more personal things in the comment sections that I was fine with and even touched me, but its always about how they relate to the fic, not just random information they throw in.

Again, its just a comfort thing for me.

Okay, serious Luke post is over now.

#thoughts with luke #gary roach sanderson #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #ao3 #commenting #comment ettiquette #boundaries

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hxney-lemcn · 2 years ago

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To Fight For What You Love — Luke Skywalker x gn! Bounty Hunter! reader

summery: Being a bounty hunter for Jabba leads you into babysitting Han. Who knew that would mean you saving a princess and the rebel alliance in the process.

tw: reference to suicide (like the sayings, not actually talking about suicide). Fighting? Idk, anything in A New Hope.

a/n: Y'ALL 😭 I WAS NOT EXPECTING THE FIRST CHAPTER TO BE NEARLY 10k WORDS ODEWOKHVGK SAVE ME CUS I'M DOING ALL THE OG MOVIES

wc: 8.6k

Master List

Part One | Part Two

(Read on AO3 here if you'd rather)

I stood still as the Tatooine suns beat down on the sand. I watched through my goggles as Jabba called out to Han Solo. I’ve only seen him a few times, some smuggler. Had a silver tongue and tried to talk his way out of many situations, but this time Jabba wasn’t going to fall back.

Who am I? No one special. I’m a Devaronian, from planet Devaron. My father convinced my mother to allow me to come with him somehow. We landed on Tatooine, the heat reminding us of our home (although it was a lot more dry than we were used to). Quickly, my father couldn’t find work and landed in the clutches of Jabba the Hut. He tried to keep me out of it, but if he didn’t teach me how to fight…let’s just say Jabba had a different plan for me than being a bounty hunter like I currently am.

I turned around as Han came into the area. I repositioned my scarf back over my nose as it shifted down.

“Right here Jabba,” Han said. “I’ve been waitin’ for you.” The others pointed their blasters at him, but I just crossed my arms, ready for this to be over. I need to make more money for my family after all, and I can’t do that sitting around here.

“Have you now?” Jabba asked incredulously.

“You didn’t think I was gonna run, did you?” Han asked back.

“Han,” Jabba started. “My boy, you disappoint me. Why haven’t you paid me and why did you fry poor Greedo?” I tensed slightly as Boba Fett stood beside me. We never seemed to be on good terms. I suppose we were competition after all, but that’s why I let him claim all the bigger bounties, so he understood I wasn’t after his position.

“Jabba,” Han responded. “Next time you wanna talk to me, come see me yourself. Don’t send one of those twerps.”

“Han,” Jabba sighed, shaking his head. “I can’t make exceptions. What if everyone who smuggled for me dropped their cargo at the first sign of an imperial starship? It’s not good business.”

“Look Jabba,” Han said defensively. “Even I get boarded sometimes.” Han walked on his tail before continuing, “You think I had a choice? But I got a nice, easy charter. I’ll pay you back, plus a little extra. I just need a little more time.”

“Han, my boy,” Jabba gave in. “You’re the best. So, for an extra 20%...”

“15, Jabba, don’t push it,” Han interrupted.

“Okay,” Jabba agreed. “15%. But if you fail me again, I’ll put a price on your head so big you won’t be able to go near a civilized system!”

“Jabba, you’re a wonderful human being,” Han said sarcastically.

Jabba motioned for the others to leave, but halted me, “You go with him, keep an eye out.”

I blinked, not believing this, “Will I be paid?”

“Yes,” Jabba said, waving his hand. “8% of Han’s payment.”

I tried to hide my surprise, knowing Han owed a lot. I nodded, and quickly followed Han and his co-pilot, Chewbacca inside. They looked at me, hands on their blasters.

“Aren’t you supposed to take your leave?” Han asked, raising an eyebrow.

I raised my hands in the air in fake surrender, shrugging, “I was ordered to come with you.”

“Great,” Han rolled his eyes. “Just what we need, a baby sitter. And you’re younger than me!”

I tugged my tan scarf under my chin and sighed, “Look, if it makes you feel better, I don’t want to be here either.”

“Whatever,” Han grumbled, standing up. “Don’t touch anything, Chewie, guard the door and escort our guests. I’m gonna go fix what I can.”

The two left the ship and I sat down behind the table. Moving my goggles onto the top of my head, I rested my arms on the table, looking around. It was not the best looking ship. Dusty, probably from the Tatooine climate, a lot of parts seemed rusted. This was going to be a long ride.

I nodded at Chewie as he walked through to the cockpit. He didn’t even acknowledge me. A few minutes later, the weirdest group boarded. Two humans, an older man and a guy around the same age as me, and two droids, an R2 unit and 3PO protocol droid.

“Hello,” I greeted with a small wave.

“Who are you?” The guy with blonde hair asked. I tried to ignore the way my mind immediately went to admire him.

“I’m-” I stopped once I heard the sounds of blasters being fired. I stood up quickly, making my way outside, blaster at the ready. I started shooting at the troopers. “Get on!” I shouted at Han. He kept shooting, running backwards towards the ship. I kept shooting, but Han grabbed my arm, pulling us into the ship. He shut the door behind us before running towards the cockpit.

“Chewie!” Han shouted. “Get us out of here!”

Not knowing what to do, I followed him, wanting to help however I could. I sat down in the seat behind Chewie, putting on my seatbelt. They quickly flew out, quite the bumpy ride.

Chewie growled something, Han replying back, “Looks like an imperial cruiser. Our passengers must be hotter than I thought. Hold ‘em off. Angle the deflector shields while I make the calculations for the jump to lightspeed.”

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked hesitantly. There was a reason why I was a solo bounty hunter, and that’s because I was really awkward with others. It didn’t help that Han seemed to have a sort of disdain of me being here.

“Yeah,” Han said sarcastically. “Don’t touch anything.”

I let out a huff under my breath. That was the second time he said that to me. I haven’t even done anything wrong! And it’s not like I have an incentive to sabotage him or anything either!

“Stay sharp. There’s two more comin’ in,” Han said to Chewie. “They’re gonna try and cut us off.”

The two human passengers came in standing next to me.

“Why don’t you outrun them?” The blonde guy asked. “I thought you said this thing was fast.”

“Watch your mouth or you’re gonna find yourself floating home,” Han snapped. “We’ll be safe enough once we make the jump to hyperspace. Besides, I know a few maneuvers, we’ll lose them.” One of the imperial starships started shooting at us, and I held on tighter to my seat as the ship started shaking. “Here’s where the fun begins,” Han smiled.

“How long before you can jump to lightspeed?” The old man asked.

“It’ll take a few moments to get the coordinates from the navicomputer,” Han replied, flicking switches.

“Are you kidding?” Blondie asked incredulously. “At the rate they’re gaining?”

“Traveling through hyperspace ain’t like dustin’ crops, boy,” Han snapped once more. “Without precise calculations, we’d fly right through a star, or bounce too close to a supernova, and that would end your trip real quick.”

Wanting to deescalate the situation, I decided to speak up, “I’ve mostly heard rumors about Han, but it’s common knowledge that he’s a pro at getting out of sticky situations.” They didn’t seem any more at ease at what I said, but blondie only continued his nagging.

“What’s that flashing?” He asked, pointing to a flashing light.

“We’re losing the deflector shield,” Han replied, batting blondies hand away. “Go strap yourselves in, I’m going to make the jump to lightspeed.”

Pulling a lever, the stars warped around us. I sighed, finally relaxing at the fact that we weren’t being shot at. I unstrapped myself as we glided through the universe. I followed Chewie into the main room of the ship. I sat next to him, watching curiously as the old man was teaching blondie something.

Blondie glanced back at us, “You never got to tell us who you were.”

“Oh,” I said somewhat awkwardly. “I’m with Han-” Chewie growled out, probably in protest to what I said. “Well, I mean Jabba sent me to go with you. My name is (y/n).”

Blondie nodded, “I’m Luke, that’s old Ben. And those two are C3PO and R2D2.”

I nodded, “Uhm, nice to meet you.”

“It’s good to see that there are still many Devaronians about,” Old Ben smiled. “Though I’m surprised that you’re so young.”

“My dad took me with him,” I shrugged, looking over to see that Chewie was starting a game of dejarik.

Nodding, Ben turned towards Luke, who turned on…was that a lightsaber? I’ve only heard tales of the Jedi. Being Devaronian, we tend to be force sensitive. Though we do not focus on these attributes of ourselves. I myself was not force sensitive, but my mother was. Although we do not focus on the force, we are taught the basics, and a little about Jedi. My father told me about their eradication, so seeing that they weren’t all gone was a marvelous sight.

I was brought out of my thoughts when I heard Chewie growl. I looked over at the board and watched one of Chewie’s pieces be killed. Leaning over I pointed out what I thought was the best move. This went on for a bit, but Chewie quickly grew frustrated.

“You can forget your troubles with those imperial slugs,” Han said while walking into the room. “I told you I’d outrun them.” Han took a seat next to Ben who didn’t seem to be doing well. I turned my attention back to the game. “Don’t everybody thank me at once,” Han said sarcastically. Chewie groaned as another piece was killed, and I tried to find a way to redeem the game. “Anyway, we should be at Alderaan in about 0200 hours.”

Chewie ignored the spot I pointed at, and C3PO said, “Now be careful, R2.” The R2 unit killed another piece and Chewie growled loudly. I sighed, holding my head in my hands. “He made a fair move. Screaming about it can’t help you,” C3PO argued. I shook my head.

“Let him have it,” Han spoke up. “It’s not wise to upset a Wookiee.”

“But sir,” C3PO replied. “Nobody worries about upsetting a droid.”

“That’s ‘cause a droid don’t pull people's arms out of their sockets when they lose,” Han replied back with a smirk. “Wookies are known to do that.” I shifted slightly away from Chewie, not wanting to be on the other end of his aggression.

“I see your point, sir,” C3PO nodded. “I suggest a new strategy, R2. Let the Wookie win.” I let out a slight chuckle, I suppose I don’t have to help out Chewie anymore.

My eyes wandered back over to Luke, blocking against a training droid. He sure did look like a Tatooine local. Blonde hair that swooped out, tan skin from the twin suns, and a typical outfit you’d see of a farmer on Tatooine. What stood out the most were his blue eyes. I never met someone whose eyes drew me in so much. I wanted to just stare at him, but I knew that was weird, so I kept my attention on what he was doing.

“Remember,” Ben spoke out. “A Jedi can feel the force flowing through him.”

“You mean it controls your actions?” Luke asked.

“Partially,” Ben replied. “But it also obeys your commands.” The droid hit Luke, causing Han to laugh.

“Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a blaster at your side, kid,” Han said condescendingly.

“Hey,” I spoke up with a glare. Han only rolled his eyes at me.

“You don’t believe in the force, do you?” Luke asked.

“Kid, I’ve flown from one side of this galaxy to the other,” Han replied. “I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff, but I’ve never seen anything to make me believe there’s one all-powerful force controlling everything. There’s no mystical energy field controlling my destiny. It’s all a lot of simple tricks and nonsense.”

“You clearly haven’t been to Devaron,” I scoffed. “I remember the elder matriarchs raising a statue without lifting a finger.”

“Tricks, I tell you,” Han scoffed, waving me off.

“I suggest you try it again, Luke,” Ben said, changing the subject. Grabbing a pilot helmet with the blast shield down, he handed it to Luke, “This time, let go of your conscious self and act on instinct.”

“With the blast shield down, I can’t see!” Luke exclaimed. “How am I supposed to fight?”

“Your eyes can deceive you,” Ben replied. “Don’t trust them.”

Hesitantly, Luke lifted the lightsaber back up. Immediately he got hit. I winced slightly for him.

“Stretch out with your feelings,” Ben instructed. This time, Luke managed to block three blasts. “See? You can do it.” I clapped quietly, a small smile on my face. Taking off the helmet, Luke glanced at me with a smile before focusing on Han and Ben.

“I call it luck,” Han dismissed.

“In my experience,” Ben spoke up. “There’s no such thing as luck.”

“Look,” Han replied. “Good against a remote is one thing. Good against the living, that’s something else.”

I rolled my eyes, “Don’t listen to him. That was really good, especially for a beginner.”

“Thanks,” Luke thanked, his grin growing.

A beeping sounded and Han spoke up again, “Looks like we’re coming up on Alderaan.” I moved out of the way as Chewie got up to go to the cockpit with Han. I let out a silent sigh as I held my head in my hand. Hopefully on the way back we don’t have to deal with the damn Empire anymore. I was brought back to the real world when suddenly the ship started shaking. Ben, Luke, and I all looked at each other before quickly going into the cockpit to see what was wrong.

“It’s not on any of the charts,” Han said, looking at the panels.

“What’s going on?” Luke asked.

“Our position is correct, except no Alderaan,” Han explained. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, watching rocks fly towards us.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked. “Where is it?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, kid,” Han explained. “It ain’t there. It’s been blown away.” I felt my heart drop, because I mean…just how was that possible? We were currently flying through the remains of a planet? One that held so many lives?

“What? How?” Luke asked, voicing my exact question.

“Destroyed by the Empire,” Ben spoke up.

“The entire starfleet couldn’t destroy the whole planet,” Han replied incredulously. “It’d take a thousand ships with more firepower than I’ve…” The ship started rapidly beeping. “There’s another ship coming in,” Han reported.

“Maybe they know what happened,” Luke said hopefully.

“I have a feeling they aren’t going to be too friendly,” I murmured, the sinking feeling getting worse.

“It’s an imperial fighter,” Ben acknowledged.

“It followed us,” Luke gasped.

“No,” I shook my head. “Those ships are short-ranged, it wouldn’t be able to make the trip to lightspeed.”

“There aren’t any bases around here,” Han replied. “Where did it come from?” Han continued to follow the ship as it tried to fly away.

“Sure is leaving in a big hurry,” Luke commented. “If they identify us, we’re in big trouble.”

“Not if I can help it,” Han mumbled. “Chewie, jam its transmissions.”

“Let it go,” Ben said. “It’s too far out of range.”

“Not for long,” Han dismissed.

“A fighter that size couldn’t get this deep into space on its own,” Ben commented.

“He must’ve gotten lost,” Luke suggested. “Been a part of a convoy or something.”

“He ain’t gonna be around long enough to tell anybody about us,” Han grumbled.

“Look at him, he’s heading for that small moon,” Luke pointed out. My heart continued to sink as I didn’t have a good feeling about this situation at all. There’s gotta be a starship that the fighter is from. There’s no way it’s alone.

“I think I can get him before he gets there,” Han said. “He’s almost in range.”

“Is this really worth it?” I asked, wanting to get out of here as soon as we could.

“That’s not a moon,” Ben said and I felt my fears come to fruition. “It’s a space station.”

“It’s too big to be a space station,” Han replied back confused.

“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Luke said, the closer we got to the ‘moon’, the more it was revealed to clearly be a space station.

“Han, turn us back,” I said, fear making its way through my tone.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Han spoke slowly. “Full reverse. Chewie, lock in the auxiliary power.” We kept getting closer and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. “Chewie, lock in the auxiliary power!”

“Why are we still moving forward?” I exclaimed, gripping the seat in front of me to try and calm myself.

“We’re caught in a tractor beam,” Han explained. “It’s pulling us in.”

“Oh great,” I scoffed.

“There’s gotta be something you can do,” Luke chimed in.

“There’s nothing I can do, kid,” Han replied. “I’m at full power. I have to shut down. They’re not gonna get me without a fight.”

“Fight?” I asked incredulously. “You’re gonna get us all killed!” I glanced over at Luke as he grabbed my shoulder, eyes locked on the sight in front of us. I didn’t think anything of it as I was more concerned about how the hell we were going to survive.

“You can’t win,” Ben said softly. “But there are alternatives to fighting.”

“Chewie, bring them to the smuggling compartments,” Han ordered. “(Y/n), help me make some fake logs.”

“Okay,” I nodded. Luke shared a worried glance with me, but I motioned him to leave with my head. He let go of my shoulder and exited with the others. “What’s the story?” I asked, looking over at Han.

“We abandoned the ship,” Han replied. Nodding my head, I helped him write a few logs before we both rushed to the smuggling compartments. We squeezed ourselves to fit, and I tried not to squish Luke any more than I had to. We heard stormtroopers walk over the compartments, and I waited with baited breath until we couldn’t hear any more footsteps. Han and Luke quietly shifted the fake floorboard off of us and looked around.

“Boy, it’s lucky you had these compartments,” Luke said quietly.

“I use them for smuggling,” Han replied. “I never thought I’d be smuggling myself in ‘em.” Ben came out of his compartment and Han turned to him, “This is ridiculous. Even if I could take off, I’d never get past the tractor beam.”

“Leave that to me,” Ben replied, getting out of the smuggling compartment.

“Damn fool,” Han huffed, also getting out. “I knew you were gonna say that.”

Luke got out, offering a hand to help me but I waved him off, “Don’t worry, I got it.”

“Who's the more foolish?” Ben asked. “The fool, or the fool who follows him?” Chewie’s head poked up from Ben’s compartment and growled.

Two Empire scanners entered and were quickly taken down by Chewie.

“Hey down there!” Han called out. “Could you give us a hand with this?” Three stormtroopers entered and Han and I made quick work of them. We decided that Han, Luke and I would disguise ourselves as stormtroopers. Luke stayed behind as we all rushed to wait by the command room doors. An officer opened them not too long later and Chewie knocked him out, and I quickly shot the other one.

Rushing in, Han and I took our helmets off, me struggling slightly due to the vestigial bumps on my forehead (it’s typically where horns would be but I didn’t have any). Chewie was growling and I ran my hand through my hair to fix it.

Luke ran in and took his helmet off with a glare, “Between his howling and your blasting everything, it’s a wonder the whole station doesn’t know we’re here.”

I felt myself shrink, since it was actually me who did the blasting. I know we’re on a stealth mission, but I panicked.

“The blasting was all them, kid,” Han replied snarkily, pointing at me. “Besides, I prefer a fight to all this sneakin’ around.” Luke’s gaze fell onto me and I turned to face the control panel, not wanting to fall under any more scolding.

“We found the computer outlet sir,” 3CPO spoke up. I was glad for the distraction.

“Plug in,” Ben ordered. “He should be able to interpret the entire Imperial network.”

R2 did as ordered and started beeping, 3PO translating for us, “He says he found the controls to the power beam that’s holding the ship here. He’ll try to make the precise location appear on the monitor. The tractor beam is coupled to the main reactor in seven locations. A power loss at one of the terminals will allow the ship to leave.” On the screen, R2 showed the closest terminal.

“I don’t think any of you can help,” Ben stated. “I must go alone.”

“Whatever you say,” Han dismissed. “I’ve done more than I’ve bargained for on this trip already.” I couldn’t help but agree, I mean I was just meant to make sure Han didn’t try to run off with the money, but I got waaaayyy more to deal with than just that. I should’ve negotiated a higher price with Jabba.

“I want to go with you,” Luke whispered to Ben.

“Be patient, Luke,” Ben replied. “Stay and watch over the droids. They must be delivered safely or other star systems will suffer the same fate as Alderaan. Your destiny lies along a different path from mine.” Opening the door, Ben finished, “The force will be with you…always.” We all watched Ben leave, and once Luke closed the door, Chewie started growling.

“You said it Chewie,” Han agreed. “Where did you dig up that old fossil?” I rolled my eyes, of course he’s going to insult an elder. He really knew no respect.

“Ben is a great man,” Luke replied defensively.

“Yeah,” Han agreed sarcastically. “Great at getting us into trouble.”

“I didn’t hear you give out any ideas,” Luke defended.

“Anything’s better than just hangin’ around waiting for ‘em to pick us up,” Han countered. I bit my lip, I did feel uneasy just waiting here, but that could also just be because of the fact that we were stuck on an enemy base.

“Who do you think-” Luke was cut off when R2 started making noises. I’m sorry Luke, but if you were concerned about how loud we were before…well fighting amongst ourselves isn’t helping. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid I’m not quite sure, sir,” C3PO responded. “He says, “I found her,” and keeps repeating, “she’s here.””

“Who?” Luke asks, walking closer to the droids. I once again didn't like where this was heading. “Who has he found?”

“Princess Leia,” C3PO answered.

“The princess?” Luke asked in awe. “She’s here?”

“Princess?” I asked, confused at the lack of context.

“Where?” Luke asked excitedly. “Where is she?”

“Princess? What’s going on?” Han asked, also confused.

C3PO once again translated for R2D2, “Level 5, Detention Block AA-23. I’m afraid she’s been scheduled to be terminated.”

“Oh no,” Luke said with big puppy dog eyes. Don’t…think like that. “We’ve gotta do something.”

“What are you talking about?” Han asked, shaking his head.

“The droids belong to her,” Luke explained. “She’s the one in the message, we gotta help her!” I blinked in confusion as the two stood chest to chest. What message? Why is she so important? I mean yes, princess is a big title, but there are many princesses across the galaxy.

“Don’t get any funny ideas,” Han scolded. “The old man wants us to wait right here.”

“He didn’t know she was here,” Luke countered, then turned to R2. “Find a way to that detention block.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Han said, sitting back in one of the officer's chairs.

“They’re going to execute her,” Luke replied back with a glare. “You said you didn’t want to wait to be captured. Now you want to stay?”

“Marching into the detention area is not what I had in mind!” Han argued back, and I felt hopeless watching the two fight.

“But they’re gonna kill her!” Luke exclaimed.

“Better her than me,” Han spat.

“Han,” I said sternly, but he only waved me off. Luke turned towards me, frustration showing in his crystal blue eyes.

“(Y/n)...” Luke trailed off.

I bit my lip, “We’d need a really put together plan…”

Then, like a lightbulb appeared over Luke’s head as he turned back towards Han, “She’s rich.”

Chewie growled and I felt like I was on the same side as him. I shook my head, They had no plan! This was stupid!

“Rich?” Han asked, turning towards Luke once more.

“Rich, powerful,” Luke listed. “If you were to rescue her, the reward would be…”

“What?” Han asked.

“Well, more wealth than you could imagine,” Luke replied.

“I don’t know…” Han trailed off. “I can imagine quite a bit.”

“You’ll get it,” Luke said persuasively.

“I better,” Han replied.

“You will,” Luke agreed.

“All right kid,” Han agreed. “You better be right about this. What’s your plan?”

I stared blankly at the two. Idiots. Complete and utter idiots.

Luke looked around, “3PO hand me those binders there, will you?” Walking over to Chewie once he got them, he continued, “Now I’m gonna put these on you.” Only Chewie growled back, batting at the binders. “Okay, Han, you put those on.”

Han smiled, and I turned to Luke, “What’s your plan for getting out?”

Glancing at me, Luke turned towards the screen that showed the map, “Don’t worry, it’ll be an easy in and out.”

“Master Luke,” C3PO called out. “Sir, pardon me for asking, but what should R2 and I do if we’re discovered here?”

“(Y/n) will keep you safe,” Luke replied, handing Han his helmet.

I furrowed my eyebrows, discontent with the situation. I wanted to go with them, but the droids needed someone to protect them. It still somewhat hurt that I seemed to be automatically chosen to sit on the backburner.

“Lock the doors and hope they don’t have blasters,” Han chimed in.

I scoffed, “I know how to fight, thank you very much.”

Luke patted my shoulder, passing by me with a smile, “Don’t worry 3PO, they’ve got you two covered.”

“That’s a bit more reassuring,” C3PO agreed.

Once the three left, I turned towards the two droids, “Do we have any communications with them?”

“Yes,” The golden droid replied. “Master Luke gave me a comm link.”

“Good,” I mumbled, taking a seat in one of the chairs. “Hey R2, can you tell me the layout of the detention cell?” R2 beeped, pulling up the map once more. “What are all the exits?”

“He said that there is only one exit,” C3PO translated. “That is through the main elevator.”

I blinked in disbelief. This was literally a suicide mission. I groaned out, knowing this entire situation was going to go downhill.

“Any vents they could go through?” I asked exasperatedly.

“There is a trash shoot,” 3PO replied.

“Well that’s something,” I grumbled.

I spun around in my chair, trying to pass the time. Coming up with excuses to give Ben when he eventually comes back to a bounty hunter with two droids. I wonder who this princess was. Luke didn’t seem to have much experience outside of Tatooine, and there definitely weren’t any princesses there. Of course the first person I’m attracted to seems to like someone, a princess no less. I suppose I didn’t stand a chance in that aspect. Besides, I barely know Luke, so it’s not like I wanted anything like that yet. Best to get past these emotions than dwell on them. It’s not like I’m gonna see him again after this.

“C3PO, C3PO!” Luke’s staticy voice called out through the comm link. I sat up and turned towards the droids once more.

“Yes, sir?” C3PO asked back.

“Are there any other ways out of the cell bay?” Luke asked. “We’ve been cut off.” The sounds of blasting could be heard in the background and I shook my head.

“Lemme see that,” I said, reaching out for the comm link.

“Master Luke asked-”

“Don’t worry,” I waved him off. Turning on the comm link I replied, “That’s the only exit, but there are vents on the bottom that you can go through.”

“What was that?” Luke asked back, sounds of blasters getting louder. “I didn’t copy.”

“All systems have been alerted to his presence!” C3PO gasped after R2 beeped.

“You're being swarmed, there’s vents running along the cell bay, go through that!” I shouted into the comm link, hoping he heard.

“Open up in there!” A voice sounded outside the room. “Open up in there!”

“Shit,” I muttered, handing the comm link back to C3PO. I quickly put on the stormtrooper helmet, the more armor the better I suppose.

“Oh no,” 3PO muttered.

I got my blaster ready, looking around the room. There was a door, and opening it revealed a closet. I bit my lip in thought, they’re gonna find a way in somehow. I motioned the droids and they entered the closet.

“Pretend I’m dead, and act like you were attacked,” I whispered. C3PO nodded and I closed the door on them. I laid on the ground with my blaster being close enough to my body to grab, but far enough to look like it fell with my body. The sound of Luke’s voice could be heard coming from the comm link. Damn it, of course they need help when we’re being found. I just hope it stops when the stormtroopers enter.

From this position, I couldn’t see much as the door opened. I held my breath, my body tensing. I watched as a stormtrooper walked into my view, nudging my body with his foot.

“Look, there!” I heard a stormtrooper call out, and the one looking at me turned and followed. I let my breath out slowly, thankful for the armor blocking their view of my chest moving.

“They’re madmen!” I heard 3PO shout. “They’re heading to the prison level! If you hurry, you might catch them.”

“Follow me,” A trooper called out, and the sounds of their footsteps grew fainter. “You stand guard.”

Shit…I really don’t want to bring attention by blasting the stormtrooper. I moved my head slowly, I bit my lip. I don’t want to underestimate my enemy, but troopers tend to be really dumb. I saw C3PO’s feet in front of me. I let out a gasp, trying to act like I was an unconscious and injured trooper.

“Oh my!” C3PO faked surprise. “Let us escort this trooper to the medbay.”

The trooper rushed in front of me as I clutched my side, standing hunched.

“I’ll be fine,” I said with a groan. I slightly leaned against C3PO, not wanting to put too much weight on him, “Just keep guard.”

The trooper nodded, and just like that, we were out. I bit my lip to suppress my chuckle. I can’t believe we made it out of there alive. We made it down towards the ship, but a good amount away from any of the other troopers.

“You still got the comm link?” I whispered to him.

“Right here,” 3PO nodded, handing me the comm link.

“Luke,” I whispered into it. “Are you guys still alive?”

I tuned out C3PO as he talked to R2, listening for Luke or any stormtroopers.

“(Y/n)?” I heard Luke ask.

“Yeah, we managed to escape some storm-”

“We need you to turn off all the garbage mashers in the detention level!” Luke shouted. “Do you copy?”

“R2, shut down the garbage mashers on the detention level,” I ordered, just in case he couldn’t hear Luke repeat himself.

“No!” C3PO exclaimed. “Shut them all down! Hurry! Oh no.”

I clenched my fists, hoping we got it in time. R2 was beeping and I bit my lip. Suddenly, the sound of cheering filled the comm link and I couldn’t help but laugh quietly in relief.

“Listen to them,” C3PO said solemnly. “They’re dying, R2. Curses, we weren’t fast enough. It’s all my fault, my poor master.”

“Don’t worry, 3PO,” I chuckled. “I think they’re doing just fine.”

“You did great!” Luke praised, and I smiled. “Hey! Open the pressure maintenance hatch on unit number…where are we?”

I rolled my eyes in amusement, just glad that we all seemed to survive so far.

“Number 3263827,” Luke said.

“You heard that?” I asked R2, who only beeped while turning the controls.

We waited a bit, I kept low to the ground, not wanting to be spotted. After a bit the comm link went off once more.

“(Y/n), C3PO, do you copy?” Luke asked.

“We copy,” I replied.

“Are you safe?” He asked.

“For now, yeah,” I said. “We’re in the main hangar, across from the ship.”

“We’re right above you,” Luke said. “Stand by.”

I sighed, once again sitting like waiting ducks. More troopers came and went, the ship being surrounded. I wonder if they had a plan?

“I wonder where they could be?” C3PO asked aloud. After a minute, all the stormtroopers ran off, and a pit of worry hit my stomach. Did they finally catch them? What was going on? “Come on you two,” C3PO said, breaking me out of my anxious thoughts. “We’re going.” I nodded, discarding my helmet, no need for that now. Not that it was going to help me now. I followed behind them, blaster at the ready.

Luke, Han, Chewie, and I’m assuming the princess all came out at the same time. Luke got sidetracked, calling out for Ben. I turned to look at where he was going and my heart dropped. Being barely able to see through the horde of stormtroopers, I was able to see Ben facing off the one and only Darth Vader. His looming presence caused all my alarm bells to go off. I raced towards Luke, stopping beside him. Ben stood still as Darth Vader cut through him.

“No!” Luke screamed, bringing all their attention towards us.

“Luke c’mon!” I shouted, tugging at his arm. He stood his ground, shooting at the troopers. I helped him, as did the others. They called him to board the ship and I managed to blast the door close before Vader could cross through. I tugged at Luke’s arm once more, blasting with one hand as best I could. This time, Luke allowed me to drag the both of us to the ship.

I tried to catch my breath as the ship took off. I’ve caught bounties 2x my size, and that was nowhere near as scary as this entire trip was. I discarded the stormtrooper gear, grabbing my scarf and goggles once more. Getting my outfit all situated, I found Luke solemnly sitting at the round table, messing with the table. The princess brought him a blanket and sat next to him. I looked over to the droids and I decided to sit at one of the side seats.

“So you’re (y/n)?” The princess asked, looking at me softly. I nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, you really helped out in the end.”

“You too,” I smiled awkwardly. “I’m sorry, but I never catched your name.”

“You can call me Leia,” She replied. It was silent once more, our focus once more on Luke.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Luke finally spoke.

“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done,” Leia tried to console.

“C’mon buddy,” Han said standing in the hallway. “We’re not out of this yet.”

We all followed Han, Han and Luke towards the guns while I followed Leia into the cockpit. She sat in the pilot seat and I stood behind her chair.

“Here they come,” Leia warned the two. Four tie fighter jets flew around us. I held onto the back of her seat as the ship started shaking. “We’ve lost lateral controls!” Leia shouted after a few minutes.

“Don’t worry,” Han dismissed. “She’ll hold together.”

We could hear Luke cheering and I decided to pipe up, “Just two more to go guys!”

We watched in suspense as the last two kept flying around. Luke managed to get one, and I sighed out in relief when the last one was hit.

“We did it!” Leia cheered, hugging Chewie and I. I let out a chuckle, hugging her back. I patted Chewies back before making my way back into the main room. I ran into Luke before making it.

“You did great!” I praised with a smile.

A similar smile graced his face, “Thank you!” Similar to Leia, he pulled me into a hug, which I of course returned. My heart seemed to beat a bit faster at the affection but I ignored it. Pulling away Luke seemed a little sheepish. “Thank you also for uh…trying to keep me grounded back there…” He trailed off, looking away.

My smile turned slightly bitter at the memory, “Don’t mention it. I know if the roles were reversed you’d do the same.”

Our eyes met and I felt myself soften. I ignored the sudden urge to kiss his cheek and nodded at him before continuing on my way. Soon after, Chewie and Leia joined me. I took out my blaster, checking to make sure it was clean. I didn’t do much fighting, but it never hurts to check.

“What’s your position here?” Leia asked as she sat next to me.

Looking up at her I started to fidget with my weapon, “I, uh…I’m not exactly sure how to explain it.” I chuckled awkwardly. “Basically, think of me as Han’s babysitter.”

Leia raised her eyebrow, “Well you aren’t doing a good job.”

“Well,” I sighed. “Once he drops you guys off, I basically just gotta make sure he returns to Jabba to pay his debt.”

“I see,” Leia sighed, seeming less friendly. “So I’m assuming you're not going to help.”

“I wish I could…” I trailed off. “Really, I do. But I have to go back and continue to take care of my family.” I knew my reasoning was selfish, I just hope she understood.

“I suppose we all have our priorities,” Leia shrugged. I looked down, feeling guilty of my decision. It was quiet for the rest of the ride, only Chewie's growling breaking it from time to time.

Once we landed, I couldn’t help but look around the planet in awe. It’s been awhile since I’ve been on a planet with such luscious greenery. I smiled, a comforting feeling as it reminded me of home. We were escorted to a hangar. People were all around preparing their x-wing ships. Clearly the rebels were preparing for a fight. Once again, I felt guilty. All these people who either lost their family or left them to fight for a noble cause while I cower and run away back to the monotony of my life, being Jabba’s puppet.

Someone greeted Leia as we finally stopped. I looked over to Luke who was looking around in awe. His gaze met mine and I felt flustered and embarrassed at the fact that he caught me looking.

“Isn’t this amazing?” Luke asked breathlessly.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I didn’t realize the rebellion was this big, but I suppose I didn’t think of it much.”

“C’mon, they’re going to go over the plans to defeat the Death Star,” Leia called out, waving us over.

Luke looked towards me once more, his blue eyes shining brilliantly, “You think they’ll let me pilot a ship?”

“Definitely,” I chuckled. “I’m sure they’ll take all the help they’ll get.”

Once we got to the meeting room, I stood next to Luke and his droids. If this was going to be the last I saw of him, I might as well make the most of it. He was a sweet guy, and I would love to stay friends with him. There needs to be more people like him in the galaxy. I zoned out as the person was discussing their plans to defeat the Death Star. It didn’t involve me so I didn’t find any harm in it.

Once they all started standing up, Han patted my shoulder. I looked over at him and he motioned me to follow him and Chewie. Looking towards Luke, I spoke up, “Uhm, bye Luke.” When he looked at me, I waved.

“Cya,” He grinned, waving back. Following the two smugglers, I felt like Luke didn’t understand that we weren’t sticking around. When we all made it back to the hangar, boxes of credits sat next to the escort.

“Help me with this woudja?” Han called over to me. “If you want Jabba to pay you that is.”

I rolled my eyes, but said nothing as I helped him load the payment.

Luke quickly came onto the scene, “So, you got your reward and you’re just leaving then?”

“That’s right,” Han nodded. “Yeah. I got some old debts I gotta pay off with this stuff. Even if I didn’t, you don’t think I’d be fool enough to stick around here, do ya? Why don’t you come with us? You're pretty good in a fight. We could use ya.”

“Come on,” Luke frowned. “Why don’t you take a look around? You know what’s about to happen, you know what they’re up against. They could use a good pilot like you. You’re turning your back on them.”

“What good’s a reward if you ain’t around to use it?” Han asked back. “Besides, attacking a battle station ain’t my idea of courage. It’s more like suicide.”

“All right,” Luke said with no emotion. “Well, you take care of yourself, Han. I guess it’s what you're best at.” Then, Luke's gaze fell onto me, “You too, (y/n)?”

I kept my head down, knowing I couldn’t meet his gaze, “I’m sorry, Luke. But I can’t stay…”

I heard him scoff, “I guess I just expected you to be different.”

I felt like crying as I heard his heavy boots storm off. I kept my head down as I loaded the last box. One thing I hated the most was disappointing the people I care about.

“Hey Luke,” Han called out. “May the force be with you.” Chewie growled and I finally looked up. “What are you looking at?” Han asked us. “I know what I’m doing.”

Boarding the escort, we made our way back to the Millennium Falcon. We then loaded all the money onto the Falcon. Chewie and Han bantered a bit, but I kept to myself.

“What’s got you so quiet?” Han asked as we carried the last two boxes.

I stayed quiet, placing down the box I was carrying, “...I…wish it could be different. That we could help.”

I heard Han sigh, “If you want to help you can, I’m not making you come with me.”

I felt tears brim my eyes, feeling even more guilty due to the fact that Han spoke the truth. I kept blaming others for this choice, when I can only really blame myself. My obligation to my family was more important. I mean what would my dad say? What would my mom say?

Han shuffled before continuing, “If it’s what Luke said…kid, we all have to choose what’s more important to us. We can’t please everyone.”

I nodded, “I know.”

“C’mon,” Han said, ruffling my hair, making me glare up at him. “Let’s get outta here before it gets bad.” The sound of ships flying could be heard above us. “And that’s our queue.”

I followed Han into the cockpit, Chewie already getting the ship running. I sat behind them as they started to fly away. I couldn’t help but watch as the tie fighters were getting shot down one by one. My heart clenched as for all I knew, one of them was Luke. This felt wrong. It all felt wrong. Just leaving them there when we could be helping. Couldn’t we help them before we left?

It was quiet in the cockpit. My gaze wouldn’t leave the Death Star as it continued to shrink. I bit my lip in worry. I couldn’t get this damn feeling out, and I knew it would haunt me the rest of my life. The uncertainty of it all. Leaving my newly founded friends behind to die. Tearing my gaze away, I looked back to Han. He was quiet, his face contemplative.

“We should go back,” I spoke up, not being able to stand the guilty feeling bubbling under my skin.

“No,” Han dismissed.

“This isn’t right,” I countered. “Once we finish helping them we can go back to Tatooine.”

Han stayed silent, the Death Star was now almost out of site. Chewie growled, and Han’s frown grew worse.

“Please Han,” I pleaded.

Finally he seemed to snap, “If the both of you are gonna keep whining about it then fine.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I cried out, wrapping my arms around him.

“Quit your yapping and go prepare the shooter,” Han waved off, flipping some switches and turning around.

I quickly ran to the same ladder that Han and Luke went into before. I sat in the seat putting on the headset. I flipped some switches and the gun hummed, turning on.

“All right,” I spoke into the comms. “Everythings a-okay here.”

We quickly approached the Death Star, getting in position behind three tie fighters. Only one x-wing was left and I knew we got back just in time. As fast as I could, I aimed for one of the tie fighters and got it in the first shot. Han whooped into the comms and I let out a ‘hell yeah!’. The other two tie fighters nearly collide, one falling outside of the Death Star.

“You’re all clear, kid,” Han said. “Now let’s blow this thing up and go home!”

Luke shot right into where it needed to go and we all flew out. I laughed out in relief as the Death Star blew up.

“Great shot Luke!” I cheered.

“That was one in a million,” Han cheered as well. I got myself out of the gun pit and went back into the cockpit with Han and Chewie. Han clapped me on the shoulder, “You had a great shot too.”

“Thanks,” I smiled breathlessly. That weight of guilt that was pushing me down seemed to lift. Luke was safe and so were all these fearless rebels.

We quickly made our way to the hangar. We found Leia and Luke already hugging, Han and Chewie quickly joining. I went to follow but was blocked by the other rebels. My huge smile fell quickly as they continued to cheer for each other. I raised my hand, but lowered it. I suppose I’ll cheer from a distance. Luke suddenly looked around and his eyes met mine. I smiled awkwardly and he quickly made his way towards me, pulling me towards the rest of the group and hugging me tightly. I hugged back, just as tight as he lifted me off my feet slightly.

“I knew you weren’t like that,” Luke whispered, nuzzling his face into my neck.

“You should thank me,” I laughed. “It took a bit of convincing to get Han on board.”

Luke laughed, letting me go. We gazed at each other for a second before we all looked up to see R2.

“Oh no,” Luke said breathlessly.

“Oh my,” C3PO cried out. “R2, can you hear me? Say something. You can repair him, can’t you?”

“We’ll get to work on him right away,” A rebel agreed.

“You must repair him,” C3PO replied. “Sir, if any of my circuits or gears will help, I’ll gladly donate them.”

“He’ll be alright,” Luke consoled.

Leia wrapped an arm around me with a knowing smile, Han hugging her other side. I wrapped my arm around Luke’s shoulders and followed the other two, dragging him along.

“Wait what?” I asked, turning towards the rebel members who held up the outfit I was supposed to wear.

“It’s an award ceremony,” One said. “You weren’t expecting to wear your regular clothes were you?”

“I mean…” I sighed out exasperatedly. “I don’t know. I’m not used to dressing up for anything.”

“The princess picked this out for you specifically,” The other mentioned.

“Of course she did,” I mumbled. “Fine, I’ll wear it.” They left to let me change. Once I was finished changing, I couldn’t help but pick at my clothes. They were so form fitting in some spots, a drastic change to my casual wear.

I stood in between Luke and Han with a slight frown. Luke looked towards me and his eyes widened.

I raised an eyebrow at him, “Is it really that bad?”

“N-no!” He stuttered out. “You, uh…uhm actually look really good.” I looked away, not used to compliments.

“Oh,” I said, not exactly sure how to reply. “Thank you, you look real nice too.”

“Thanks,” He replied in a whisper.

“C’mon you two,” Han said, rolling his eyes. “Quit flirting, the ceremony’s starting.”

I looked up at him aghast, but the doors opened and I tried to calm myself down. As we walked, I tried to keep my gaze on Leia and not the hundreds of eyes that were currently on us. Once we reached the stairs, we stopped and Leia stepped forward. She looked at Han sternly, her gaze fell on me and she smiled a bit more softly. When she looked towards Luke, they shared a goofy smile, which seemed to spread to me when I glanced at Luke and noticed that he did the same.

When Leia put the medal on Han, he winked at her which made me roll my eyes. And he says the awkward compliments Luke and I gave each other was flirting. Leia placed a medal around my neck, and then finally one around Lukes. We all bowed our heads in respect. Suddenly, R2 showed up, beeping and whistling. We couldn’t stop our laughter, happy to see the droid was okay. Turning around, Chewie growled and everyone started clapping. I felt small, finally seeing how many people were looking.

Once the ceremony was finished, everyone started packing. It was time to move to a new base after all. I was waiting for Han to stop bothering Leia when I noticed that Luke snuck up next to me.

“How’re you feeling?” Luke asked, giving me a side hug.

“Much better outside of all that attention,” I replied, returning the short hug.

“You don’t like being recognized as a hero?” Luke laughed lightly.

“Not if it means that many people are watching you,” I replied back.

“So…” Luke trailed off. “Are you staying?” His smile somewhat fell at the question and he looked genuinely concerned.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, looking down at my fidgeting hands. “I was just gonna talk to Han about it. I’m sure my parents would understand and support my decision…but…I don’t know.” I looked back up at Luke feeling somewhat helpless, “What do you think I should do?”

Staring back at me, he smiled gently, “Well…I think you know what I’m about to say.” I laughed softly, crossing my arms.

“I think I know what Han’s gonna say too,” I sighed, watching him interact with Leia. It’s clear he was interested in her…but wasn’t Luke as well? This was definitely going to get messy.

“I’d love for you to stay,” Luke spoke up. “Uh…a-all three of you, I mean.”

I looked back over to Luke as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, looking away.

“Okay,” I couldn’t help but agree with a giant smile. How could I leave the friends I made now?

#luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker #x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #a new hope #anh #han solo #leia organa #princess leia

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gracehateseggnog · 7 months ago

Text

the battle of helm's deep ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ legolas x oc

summary: while the uruk-hai army advances on helm's deep, talwynn searches desperately for the one thing that will allow her to fight: the hurbryn amulet.

pairing: legolas x fey!oc

word count: 11.4k

a/n: this is my first time in a LONG time uploading to tumblr, this oc was made for me and my gf but i finished this 10k oneshot and i was wondering if this could belong on tumblr. anyway, this is just one chapter of many i have planned, maybe i'll upload more as i go, maybe not! talwynn is a fey, i know that tolkien's lore with fey is simply the fact that they aren't really mentioned in the books, but i get a lot of things wrong in this i'm sure (only recently got into lotr + th), and this is really just for fun! xx

tw: lots and lots of gore. nothing super descriptive, but its a war.

gif creds: unknown

Rain began to pour from the sky as the armies of Elves and Men joined their forces for the first time in hundreds of years, soaking the soldiers from top to bottom, but their spirits stayed unchanged. They held their bows out atop the walls of the city, the tips of their arrows in a poised position, ready to shoot at the ever-nearing marching army of orcs, making their way from Mordor further into Middle-Earth. Their footsteps echoed throughout the canyon and up to the tip of the Misty Mountains, each step signed the death warrants of hundreds of them, but it was clear they had no mind for anything apart from the war Sauron had raised them from the dead for. Middle-Earth had to be defended until Frodo could destroy the Ring to Rule Them All in the deepest volcanic pits of Mordor, and finally, the archers of Rivendell and the soldiers of Helm’s Deep had held their alliance strong and true, leaving them with more protection they could ask for.

Legolas stood at the centre of a group of his people. The elves that came from Rivendell were not his own kin, but they were his people all the same. He looked at the onslaught of orcs heading theory way with no clear motive to stop until they decimated Helm’s Deep, where Sauron believed the Ring to be held. The elf had his own bow kept at his side, the army closing in on them becoming the least of the worries on his mind. Talwynn had buried herself in the mine and cave system of the city with the women and children in search of the amulet she had joined the Fellowship to find in the first place, leaving without a whisper of when she could expect to return, which worried Legolas greatly. She had her own family to return to, a brother and a mother back in the Fey Realm, he wouldn’t be able to be the one to break the news that she had passed during the valiant Battle of Helm’s Deep.

Gimli stood directly to his left, standing on the tips of his boots to try and see over the stone brick wall, but ultimately failing and sighing, his dwarvish form too short to look at the thousands of torch lights emerging over the horizon. “You could have picked a better spot.” He grumbled, looking up at Legolas, who only smirked amusedly and looked back forward towards the oncoming army.

Aragorn took long, calculated strides across the wall, looking over every single elven soldier that had lined up, ready to fight. Legolas looked back towards his friend as he approached admirably; the future King of Gondor stood behind him and Gimli, there was no doubt about the fate that would come to him after the Ring was destroyed. They were confident in the army and in each other, but there were ten thousand of the orcs and only more coming, they knew their defenses would fall at some point, and the caves would be vulnerable. Legolas hoped Talwynn would find her amulet before that point, before she was left to protect the women and children of the village on her own, without any other soldier to assist her in getting them to safety. He had no doubt in her, but he had doubt in the village, in the armies they had procured, especially that of Rohan. Théoden King had only just been released from Sauron’s darkening grip, there was no telling if he could be grasped so easily by evil once again.

Their dwarven companion turned his gaze to look up at Aragorn, his hands holding tightly onto his shield and protecting his torso with it, since no chainmail in Helm’s Deep had quite the figure that would fit him. “Well lad, whatever luck you live by, let’s hope it lasts the night.” Gimli remarked to Aragorn.

Thunder began to rumble across the valley, illuminating the armies for a moment before enshrouding them in darkness again, the Uruk-hai’s torch lights reflecting in their eyes. Legolas turned his head to look back at the heir of Isildur, “Your friends are with you, Aragorn.”

“Let’s hope they last the night.” Gimli remarked.

Lightning burst across the land suddenly, striking down on a tree far off in the distance and alighting it into flame, burning its leaves as the influence of Mordor did to its own surroundings and land, telling Legolas of Sauron’s power continuing to grow, continuing to plague and grow across Middle-Earth. If they stood at Helm’s Deep and did nothing to defend themselves from the Uruk-hai, or simply ran to the hills and hid in Rohan, there would be no telling when Gondor would be seized, or even when his own home, Mirkwood, would fall deeper than it already had into the grip of Mordor. His life had lasted this long, it would be pointless not to give everything he had, all of his years to the people who truly needed it. He was unselfish unlike his father, there was no reward to reap from Helm’s Deep despite his protection of it. Perhaps there was a small part of him who wanted desperately for Talwynn to find her amulet for reasons other than to allow her to fight amongst the elves and the Men, but he did not allow that to stop him from assisting his people.

With a pat on Legolas’ shoulder, Arargorn continued to make his rounds across the wall, starting to shout out instructions in elvish to the Rivendell soldiers. “Dail ú-chyn, Ú-danno i failad a thi; an úben tannatha le failad!”

Show them no mercy! For you shall receive none!

A tight roar came from the Uruk-hai leader, stilling the entire Isengardic army in their tracks, not many leagues away from the walls of Helm’s Deep. Each and every one of the orcs held a long metal spear high in the air, undoubtedly crafted in the millions by Saruman’s workers to keep the tens of thousands of suicidal orcs protected and aggressive. Legolas thought to Talwynn as a burst of lightning filled the sky, shortly followed by the rumble of thunder in its wake. She wouldn’t be able to return to the battle as long as this weather kept up and she was still missing the amulet, which worried Legolas just as much as it relieved him. That selfish part of him that only wanted to see her safe wished she would keep into the caves with the other civilians unable to fight in the Battle for Helm’s Deep, but he knew she had the same relationship with her fey people as he did the elves of Mirkwood; she would do anything and everything in her power to return to them with glory and granted protection to their place amongst Middle-Earth.

Beside Legolas, Gimli reached his head as far high up as he could, peering over his shield and straining to take a look at the Orc army across from them. “What’s happening out there?” He asked the elf, leaping up a few times, but his eyesight never making it across the wall.

With an amused smile, Legolas replied, “Shall I describe it to you?” and turned his head downwards to look at his dwarven friend through the thick rain peltering across his hair and skin. “Or would you like me to find you a box?”

Gimli met Legolas’ eyes for a moment, his face pressed into a frown, before he let out a dwarvish chuckle, his eyebrows raising and disappearing beneath his helm as he looked back to the battleground, or rather, the stone wall that shielded his view from the battleground.

Another war cry ripped out from the Uruk-hai leader’s lips, giving a mysterious signal to the other Orcs that did not manifest in their usual Black Speech dialect. Instead, it seemed they had begun communicating in battle and animalistic shouts that got their points across faster, that or they simply didn’t know Black Speech. With the unclear instruction from their leader, the Orcs began to roar in response to the army standing across from them, bows equipped and ready to shoot Mordor’s army they had brought into the once peaceful lands of Helm’s Deep and Isengard. The sound of scraping metal clashed against Legolas’ sensitive ears as the Orcs readied their weapons, slamming the hilts onto the grassy ground and echoing out a nearly harmonic beat of metal against the mix of rock and dirt on the floor. The elf could nearly hear the troubled cries coming from behind him and from inside the cave system that hid the general population of Helm’s Deep, and another strike of hope for Talwynn’s safety electrified him.

Before Aragorn or Théoden King could call the armed soldiers to send out their arrows and throw spears, one of the old men standing next to Haleth, Aldor, let his hand tremble, his fingers letting go of the arrow tapped onto the front of his bow. Legolas followed the projectile with his eyes, watching intently as it lodged itself into the neck of one of the Orcs, sending the Uruk-hai into a collapsed state, its body crumbling into its fellowship behind it. It let out a foul groan at the pain before its last breath left its lips, and the soldiers surrounding it dropped the body to the ground. There was the main difference between the two armies, one had no remorse or compassion for their fallen comrades, whilst Legolas knew the people surrounding him would care for him much more than to allow his body to drop so carelessly if he was to receive an arrow anywhere in his body, let alone in such a fatal location such as his neck, and he also knew he would do the exact same thing for the soldiers, Elven or Men, that stood beside him.

“Dartho!” Aragorn cried out, holding his left hand up and stopping any more arrows from escaping the bows of his men.

Hold!

The third and final war cry rang out amongst the valley, instead followed by the crushing sound of the bottom of their spears against the once green earth, now tainted with the blood of Mordor. The mass horde of orcs began to cull the land beneath them brutally by slamming their weaponry into the ground, the horrible noise of their screeches and bites of meaningless anger sending the message of their newfound aggression into the hearts of those that stood in Helm’s Deep. It had only taken one to die, one man to slip his hand from his arrow and kill one of the Uruk-hai for them all to rejoice, to be able to return to Mordor surely victorious with the tale on how they had no need to strike first to begin combat. The orcish leader let out another roar and thrust his brute spear into the dead of night, letting the stains of blood wash off from the rain before commanding the Orcs to fall forward into battle in the savage language of Black Speech.

“So it begins.” Théoden King remarked, his eyes reflecting the blaze of the might of the Orcs in their torches as they ran towards the walls of Helm’s Deep.

Unmoving, Aragorn shouted, “Tangado halad!”

Prepare to fire!

Legolas notched his arrow against his bow, and never had he been so sure of something he had been a part of. For years it had been his father, in between and before and during the years of the Lonely Mountain’s siege, when he ran alongside Aragorn in Rivendell, or even when he had joined the Fellowship of The Ring to save Frodo and Middle-Earth from their perils, sending him to continue the fights Mirkwood hadn’t started, but had means to end. His nimble fingers grazed the tail of his arrow as he looked upon his scope of the Uruk-hai army, breathing evenly in anticipation for the moment his crownless King would give order to let go, to begin the fight that had already started from the sacrifice of a slipped finger. Legolas was standing alongside Gimli, a dwarf he called his friend, for the sake of an alliance he once had no hold of, and he knew that though he held himself in brevity, his father would shake his head. Mordor would have no reign over those going to the Undying Lands, but to Legolas, Middle-Earth, and most importantly, those who lived inside it, was more important to him than any kind of immortality.

“Faeg i-varv di na lanc a nu ranc.” Legolas murmured to the Elven soldiers that surrounded him in Sindarin, his eyes unwavering from the target of the Uruk-hai army that only grew closer to the walls they shrouded the civilians in.

Their armour is weak at the neck and beneath the arms.

Finally, as the Orcs lay only a few leagues away from the city, Aragorn cried, “Leithio i philinn!”

Release the arrows!

In that moment of kinghood, every single Elf, Dwarf, and Man that stood on the holds of Helm’s Deep released their arrows and throwing spears with an echoing sound of metal against metal, the armour of each soldier scraping against its own pieces in order to allow the movement of its holder. Hundreds of arrows, including Legloas’ as he let go of his, melded with the rain that fell from the sky and pummelled down onto the army, slotting themselves deep into skin and some knocking against armour and pathetically falling to the floor in a heap. Legolas kept his eye trained on his own arrow as it embezzled itself into the neck of an Uruk-hai, but grabbed another immediately from his quiver, propping it against his Elven bow and awaiting another instruction, just as his fellow allies had done beside and across from him. Bodies of the hundreds collapsed to the ground, but the army of Orcs did not stop for their fallen friends, and it seemed their rage only grew at the sight of their own decimation.

Gimli looked up at Legolas, “Did they hit anything?”

“Are you sure you do not wish for a box, my friend?”

“Give them a volley!” Théoden King commanded.

Gamling, the soldier standing behind Théoden King at all times, raised his armoured hand above his head, then struck it down with a cry, “Fire!”

A repeated shout rolled through from one of the Helm’s Deep soldiers in reply, “Fire!” and the arrows were released in the same manner again, though the Uruk-hai never stopped despite their culling, and only seemed to replace the fallen with those who were well enough to continue fighting in their place.

Another shout from Aragorn ripped through the army, “Fire!” and the Elves shot again, their fingers beginning to slip against the bottom of their arrows from the mix of sweat and rain that continued to pelter them.

“Send them to me!” Gimli impatiently shouted, riling himself up and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “C’mon!”

Soon enough, the arrows of the Men and the Elves did little to combat the attack of the Uruk-hais, and their crossbows began to fire up to the large opposition army. Legolas watched as his allies began to fall slowly, some caught in the neck by the twisted and poisoned arrows of Mordor, others slipping from a nick of the tip of a spear and impaled by the Orcs that held their weapons and prowess high. Some men fell down the stairs, others into the pit of Uruk-hai to be barbarically killed in ways that would only be acceptable to the terrible race. A flicker of reflection from the moon caught both Legolas and Aragorn’s eyes as a new horde of Uruk-hai approached, holding a long, wooden object in between the groups that rushed through their own crowds, trampling over their own dead in haste, unholding of weapons but growling and crying out manically all the same. Legolas released another arrow into one of them, but it did not stop the rest from continuing with their mission; they were trying to get up the walls of Helm’s Deep.

“Pendraid!” Aragorn shouted.

Ladders!

“Good!” Gimli yelled, bracing his axe and shield in front of him.

As the Ranger and the Dwarf spoke, the ladders of the Uruk-hai came crashing down onto the stone walls. Their barbaric weapons held high in the air, they growled and cried as they lept up into the kingdom, besting even the Elves who had lived thousands of years longer than them, and had released more arrows from their bows and sliced more enemies with their swords than the amount of meals the Orcs had eaten in their lifetimes. It was still hopeful for the allies of the Fellowship, no matter how many soldiers seemed to fall atop the walls and collapse in bloody heaps, the crude axes and hammers the Orcs wielded creating forever marks even in those who hadn’t perished. There was no way they knew how to get into the safely kept Helm’s Deep mines, and even then, Legolas was assured that the defenseless hadn’t gone without defenses. A newfound breath of air and rain flew through him, and he began striking his arrows of fear into the hearts and necks of his enemy Orcs.

“Swords!” Aragorn roared, and every single Elf retracted their bows and arrows and unsheathed their primary weaponry, including Legolas, who grasped a tight hold on his dual long knives, one held in each hand. “Swords!”

“Good!” Gimli smiled, and began to swing his axe across the chests of the Orcs.

The rain didn’t stop on their poor, aching bodies as the Uruk-hai began to fall, their tough skull-like helmets bent inwards and outwards in their attacks. Aragorn dipped beneath the stone wall level for a moment to catch the upper hand on one of his attackers, sliding his own large sword into its abdomen before piercing another Uruk-hai that had thought it had caught the crownless King in a moment of weakness. Legolas slid his knives easily into the necks and heads of the Orcs that tried to best him, kicking them across and off the walls of Helm’s Deep for any extra measure he needed, some even ended up wailing and landing atop their allies’ weaponry. He found joy in fighting, often, and this battle was no other beast to swallow, other than the fact they were outnumbered, which had a simple solution. All they had to do was win, and keep the mines of Helm’s Deep protected from Mordor’s Uruk-hai at any cost to prevent the killing of civilian life, and the killing of Talwynn.

“Legolas!” Gimli shouted with a widespread grin on his face, his axe and face bloodied as he held up two fingers of his right hand towards the Elf. “Two already!”

Knowing immediately that the Dwarf was talking about their ever-continuing battle between who could gather more Orc and Goblin kills from the battle, Legolas smiled and slammed the side of his bow into another Orc. He always enjoyed competition. “I’m on seventeen!”

“Huh?” Gimli exclaimed breathlessly. “Argh! I’ll have no pointy-ear outscoring me!” With newfound rage, he threw his axe in between the legs of an Orc who had just finished scaling the wall to the side of him, watching with glee as it fell to a heap on the ground.

Legolas unsheathed his bow once more, dropping his knives to their holders on his pants and returning to what he was simply best at in combat; archery. “Nineteen!” He cried with an ear-to-ear smile at Gimli.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Talwynn could hear the cries of battle on the outside of the mines where she resided, bumbling with a nervousness that made her entire body shake, though that could have also been the simple movement of the cannons firing that echoed through the caverns. Her entire body was soaked to the bone from the rainwater, her wings weighing her down desperately and making hovering in the heights of the mines a tremendous task, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to mix that feeling onto being on the battlefield, slaying hundreds of Orcs like Legolas was, but she wanted to. The amulet was hidden somewhere in the first layers of the Helm’s Deep mines, she was sure of it. She didn’t have a single moment to be unsure, even, as she spared a longing glance at the shortsword her Elven comrade had left her, balancing across one of the rocks near the furthermost exit of the caves. She was a soldier, and she only needed to find one stupid pendant to get out there and name herself as one in front of the Uruk-hai army.

One of the rocks that her tiny fingers pulled apart had to hold the amulet inside, every shine she saw in the corner of her eye as it reflected against the droplets of rain on her eyelashes were looked at, and every too sick elder and too young child was asked to keep a lookout, even if their eyes were never to open. Talwynn’s skin began to scrape as she pulled apart cracks in the walls, her gaze darting between unmined diamonds and trinkets that would mean nothing to her nor to Helm’s Deep unless they could pull themselves out of the fight they had found themselves at war in. She bit back the pain of every drop of water that fell onto her wings, nearly sending her tumbling back if it weren’t for her vice grip on the rock wall and her intense training for weather just as this, but if the rain on the outside worsened only further, she feared she would become of no help to her friends at arms. So she continued her search, dipping down to the ground level of the mines and searching amongst the crowds of confused and cold citizens.

“Talwynn!” The angelic voice of Lady Éowyn called, her voice echoing through the chambers, but depleting as it furthered due to the mass of bodies in the mines.

“Lady!” The fey called back.

Lady Éowyn was beautiful by any Man’s standards, but she was frightened, and Talwynn worried for her equally at the sight of the second-in-place to the Helm’s Deep throne. Her blonde hair was dirty, her face covered in soot, ash, and sick, and her hand was cradling a young boy’s head beneath her, caring expertly for one of the soldier’s children, there was no doubt. Talwynn supposed she looked no more beautiful in that moment, though, as her hair was darker than Éowyn’s, yes, but it was nearly blackened, and her wings could barely keep her and her tousled adventuring clothing afloat, even with the Elven cloak Galadriel had given her kindly when they passed through Lothlórien. She knew she was no lady by any Man or Elf standard, but she didn’t usually look so disheveled and out of sorts. This was a new kind of situation for most there, though, and worrying about fruitless things such as appearance was unwanted and unneeded when a war was being fought on the outside.

“What’s happened?” Talwynn inquired, slotting her feet down on an outcrop of rock in front of Lady Éowyn’s eyes.

“The ill are getting weaker,” Éowyn cried. “When the soldiers return from the outside with wounds and scrapes worse than the cough that lingers here, what shall we do? There will be no Helm’s Deep nor Minas Tirith to rebuild!”

“The Elven army is out there with the brave soldiers of Men, Lady. They have the hope of Middle-Earth atop them, even if Gondor is unwilling to call to command.”

“Wilfred is worsening, he is one of our greatest nobles. If he has fallen, the bravest of the Men, who will prevail?”

“We will, Lady. You must believe that to be true.”

“You are not Gondorian.”

“Nor am I of Helm’s Deep, yet I am still here. Mordor’s army would not reach the Fey Realm for many years still to come after this siege, and my people and I would surely have enough time to take boats to the Undying Lands before their darkness took hold, but we are fighting. I would rather die in battle, only to be remembered through Elvish and Entish song in hundreds of years, than to shrivel and cower at the sight of Sauron’s eye, whilst two hobbits are challenging everything they know to save not only their own, but all of Middle-Earth.”

“Sir Boromir—”

“Sir Boromir died for the noblest of causes, and though I did not know this man you speak of, Wilfred, he will die for the cause of nobility if he must, because that is the task you take when you give yourself to rank. From what I hear, his brother, Faramir, is more than up to the challenge of taking the Stewardship from Gondor, if the heir of Isildur does not choose to take the crown upon himself.” Talwynn bit her tongue back to say Aragorn’s name. In truth, if the Steward of Gondor knew of the Ranger’s inherent right to the throne, he would surely willingly give all of Middle-Earth to Mordor’s reign, just to see himself in power. “Our fighting is not done, and it will not be done, even if our feet do not touch the barren lands of the battlefield, we will be here, and we will fight for the sick and the ill, and those who do not get the chance to fight against Sauron like we do.”

“You do not fight.”

“I do not have a choice in the matter. I am a soldier, like you, Lady. I wield a sword and shield, I swear oaths to protect my kin, even if they may not come after me in the event of my death, but I do not belong on this battlefield. The treasure that will bring me to my war is hidden amongst the rocks in these mines, but I do not disregard myself for being of no use when I know I am. You and I both are protecting these people, and that sword,” Talwynn pointed with her arm towards Legolas’ Elven shortsword, still balancing against the rock wall, “Will wait for me until my time to fight comes. For now, I stay, and I help you with what you have been tasked to do, and we contribute to this war in the ways we know we will succeed in. You are headstrong, Lady, as I am sure your father and brother have told you. It is a good thing, but you must know when and where not to place your judgement.”

“And what of Legolas? Do you not wish to be out there with him?”

“Of course I do,” Talwynn admitted, her eyes wandering from Lady Éowyn’s to fixate on her betrothed sword, then to the exit of the mines. “But there is a place for even the smallest, I’ve learnt that through my many years of training.”

“This is all so new to me.”

“And that is not any fault of your own. Learn and grow, that is all any of us can do. This journey has taught me more than I ever thought I’d know, and I’m confident you will grow, too. Probably to become much more than I will.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not the best with advice, you’ll have to forgive me.”

“You should give yourself more credit.”

Talwynn smiled, but didn’t acknowledge Lady Éowyn’s compliment, instead turning to the man laying next to her, heaving breaths and eyes fluttering. “Who is this?”

“Sir Wilfred, the man I mentioned earlier.”

“Is he alright?”

“There’s no telling. I have the hands of a shieldmaiden, not a healer.”

With a kind and understanding nod, Talwynn let her feet lift off of the rock she stood on and she found her way down next to Wilfred, staying a decent few of her own paces away from his face in case his illness was something passed through the air. “Sir?” A low grumble came from his lips of acknowledgement, and she knew he could hear her small voice. Out of her satchel, she pulled a small dose of Kingsfoil. “There is infectious grossity in the air of the caves, the orcs are surely the cause. These weakened bodies suffer from a mere breath of the Uruk-hai.” Talwynn explained, reciting what she had learnt from her father and Aragorn in their short time together.

“What will the herb do?” Lady Éowyn inquired.

“If the orc sickness can be destroyed at the root by the Kingsfoil, the colour will return to his cheeks despite the cold and damp of the cave. If not, the herb will at least hold off the cold shakes and the murkiness in his head.” Talwynn landed her feet onto the man’s chin, opening his lips delicately and slipping a chunk of Kingsfoil between for his body to melt down and digest. “Most of these people will need some, but what he has is all I brought, and there is barely enough in his mouth to fend off the ill.”

“These people… they all have this orc sickness?”

“That is what Aragorn told me,” Talwynn replied, looking up at Lady Éowyn, barely managing to miss the stifled expression of hope at the uttering of his name on her face. “But only time will tell. The Gondor House of Healing may become their home if the battle lasts, assuming they have Kingsfoil in their gardens.”

Lady Éowyn nodded. “They do.”

“At least there is that.” Talwynn nodded with a worried, but reassuring glance.

A glint caught the fey’s eye before silence could become the trio, just a flicker of reflection of light from the stalagmites above, but it was enough for Talwynn’s eyes to widen. She stepped down from Sir Wilfred’s chin, landing delicately on his exposed collarbone. Beneath his tunic was a chain of a necklace she hadn’t seen before, and she knelt down to lift it up into her hands, the weight heavy on her fingertips yet barely noticeable in comparison to the deep pit pulling against her chest. This was a kind of feeling so foreign, but her head buzzed with nostalgia, with a sense of belonging she only felt when she was in the Fey Realm. She couldn’t place the feeling, it wasn’t the same kind of fluttering when she saw Legolas, perhaps it was what being drunk on elven wine felt like, or on dwarven ale. All she knew was that her chest felt heavier than wielding a human-sized longsword, and her lip quivered, her mouth letting out a gasp of hope as the necklace continued to lift up from underneath Wilfred’s tunic, a sparkle akin to the colour and look of her wings manifesting around the centre of the jewelry. A song of her people rang through her ears as if a choir existed between each chain link, though only Talwynn’s small ears could hear the chorus:

The Spirit of Man has come to me, In the form of a beautiful dancing green woman. Her eyes filled me with peace, Her dance filled me with peace. The Spirit of Man has come to me, And has blessed me with great peace. Her eyes fill me with peace, Her dance filled me with peace. The Spirit of Man has come to you, Int he form of a beautiful dancing green woman.

“Valar…” Talwynn sighed, the cord wrapped in her chest bursting at the sight of the amulet in her hands, beautiful and colored as the very green that surrounded the forests in the Fey Realm. The Hurbryn Amulet had found her. “May I serve your honour well, wielders of the sword in my home, now lost.”

The words given to the fey had finally dawned upon her. The Hurbryn Amulet was never to be found amongst rock, that was not the “hidden darkness” they were tasked with, no. Talwynn had gone through the darkness to find this very necklace, she had taken lives, she had faced orcs, trolls, Saruman, Sauron, blizzards, and anything that manifested within the darkness in Middle-Earth. Of course it was hidden to her, she was too blind to realize that joining the Fellowship revealed everything to her, and revealed that the Valar had put the amulet in the Realm from the very creation of the world. She could cry with relief, but her eyes would not allow her, and her chest raced, pulse beating loudly in her ears as her head turned to the door to the battle. That world, out in the pillaged fields of Helm’s Deep, where Legolas, Gimli, and Aragorn fought with bows, axes, and swords was where she was meant to be from the very beginning, even Gandalf had known that despite her kindness and size, she would make it to the battlefield to fight, no matter when her gift of the amulet came. Her place was out there, defending her people as she had been trained to do since she was a babe. She belonged somewhere, and it wasn’t in the Fey Realm, it wasn’t as a wandering traveller, or a lost fey finding her home in various woods, it was here, amongst her friends.

Talwynn’s gaze turned to Lady Éowyn, her hands warming from the amulet. “Lady?”

“Yes?”

“Please grab Legolas’ sword.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“Seventeen! Eighteen! Nineteen! Twenty! Twenty-one! Twenty-two!”

Legolas bit back a grin as Gimli stood atop one of the stone ledges of Helm’s Deep, swinging his axe back and forth, each time slicing into an Uruk-hai and counting with a loud shout. No matter if he drew blood, the sheer force against their bodies pushed them off the edge and their ladders, sending them plummeting to the ground, and most often, staking them onto one of the other orcs’ spears. The blonde elf knocked another three arrows to his bow, releasing them nearly as soon as they had been placed against the wood, slicing through the heads of three orcs and sending them to the ground. When he could feel (and smell) the grotesque presence of an enemy behind him, Legolas turned quickly in a whiz of platinum hair, braided kindly by Talwynn, and slammed the centre of his bow into the orc’s jaw, then another time against its temple for good measure. A slight amount of blood cracked against its skin, mixing with the downpour of cold rain, but the impact was enough to send it to the ground in an unmoving heap. He pulled another three arrows from his quiver, releasing them against his bow; one, two, three, and slamming the last orc off the stone wall with a sharp kick to the abdomen. Grinning as the flickering lights of the Uruk-hai torches began to dwindle with each arrow shot into their neck from both Legolas and the Elven army at his side, he couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d rather be; alongside his friends. Though, one, significantly smaller of those friends, was missing.

“Na fennas!”

Causeway!

Aragorn’s Sindarin cry came from below Legolas, and his neck and aimed bow aimed towards where he pointed with his sword; the entrance to the stronghold, the long bridge above the trenches now covered in a formation of orcs with their shields above their heads, deflecting flying arrows from above and inching closer to the doors. Tens of arrows were released from their bows in that moment, including Legolas’, as those standing on the walls to the side of the entrance managed to get a better point of attack, their arrows burrowing themselves in the orcs’ sides and sending them tumbling down. He knocked another arrow and released, another, release, another, release, his counting never becoming jumbled amongst his many thoughts. A clear mind was one of the most important aspects of the Sindarin fighting style, his fingers working in tandem with his head and feet and body, everything in complete rotation with the next.

His keen, elven eye couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of a larger, crying light down the centre of the Uruk-hais, and Legolas turned to look at the blinding appearance. One large orc had split through the middle of the crowd, holding a flare-like torch above his head, sending plumes of blinding, white smoke into the air above. The orc screeched menacingly, warning all in front of his path that whatever was in his hand led to great importance, leading to the victory of the battle. Flames from his comrades’ torches licked its disgusting, warped skin and Legolas’ winning smile dropped as he released another arrow into the army parading into the front doors. One keen eye he kept on the centre beast, though, keeping a hard gaze upon it as it ran. The orc had a clear path towards the entrance to the city, to the mines, to Talwynn. How had the orcs found the grate so fast?

“Togo hon dad, Legolas!” Aragorn shouted.

Bring him down, Legolas!

Faster than the wind could brush through the leaves of a tree, Legolas turned his arrow to the orc with the flare, hitting him in the neck. Despite the small movement of it to let the elf know he hadn’t missed his shot, the orc continued on. He should’ve known the beasts of Sauron had no will to live. All they longed for was to fight, no matter their death, no matter the searing pain of a poisoned arrow in the centre of their jaw, all they cared about was to kill. Legolas shot another into the orc’s chest, pursing his lips into a deep frown as all the Uruk-hai did was continue on. What would be left of Helm’s Deep if the vulnerable on the inside died? What would be left of the Fellowship if Talwynn died, before she even got the chance to become human? Legolas tried not to think about it as he aimed another arrow at the orc, sending it into his head, only for it to be knocked against its helmet at the last moment. Its skin blended in with the metal and Legolas’ eyes stung with rainwater, it was becoming harder and harder to have hope of a victory.

Aragorn continued to Legolas and the other elven archers, directing them to the flare headed for the centre of the city, towards the women and the children. “Dago hon! Dago hon!”

Kill him! Kill him!

One more arrow was released from Legolas’ fingers, embedding itself into the orc’s neck, but it was too late. It took one more step and dove into the grate, the cloud of white smoke disappearing for a moment until the entire castle wall exploded above it. Tens of orcs died on the underneath, hundreds of elven and human soldiers sent flying across into Sauron’s crowd, dying on the stakes of spears or from the blast. Legolas was sent back from the impact of the smoke, a piece of debris lodging itself across his chest plate and sending him to the floor of the wall, his back hitting the stone and his chest filled with smoke. He breathed quickly and firmly, as he was taught, and despite the searing pain on his torso, he sat up, gripping tightly onto his bow to ground himself. Beneath him, Aragorn stumbled to rise, and the Uruk-hai began to make their way through the massive hole in Helm’s Deep. Behind Aragorn, the lower archers of Lothlórien, and Legolas found new strength at the sight of them, letting his wobbling legs stand up and the adrenaline to course through his body. On the other side of the break in the wall stood the remaining elven soldiers that had been placed there, along with Gimli.

“Brace the gate!” Théoden King called from the centre, and Legolas turned his head to see the smaller army of Uruk-hais, now holding a large piece of wood to try and break down the door into the city. “Hold them! Stand firm!”

Legolas knew his arrows would not last to the bridge, and his skill was needed in front of him, where orcs ran like madmen through the water-filled moat, infecting it with their disgusting warts and the pus that poured from their skin. Ignoring the pain that flared in his shoulders, the elf knocked arrow after arrow against his bow and sent them into as many orcs as he could, aiming for the head and wishing them a swift downfall. Yes, they were orcs, beings of Sauron that had no place on Middle-Earth other than for causing torment, and Legolas felt relief fill his body every time one dropped. But Legolas was also an elf, stitched to his faith in Ilúvatar and faith in nature. Every life he took he would ask forgiveness for, he would beg the land that had to take in their death and their blood to forgive him for giving the orcs to her, and to the sun in all her beauty, that had been forced to turn an eye to Middle-Earth because of Sauron’s wrath. He didn’t feel bad for the orcs with the Mirkwood arrows embedded in their necks and heads, but he felt great devastation for the earth beneath.

“Aragorn!” A dwarvish voice called from the destroyed walls above, and Legolas’ hands stopped shooting as he watched Gimli stand up on his feet, running across the wall.

“Gimli!” Aragorn shouted.

Gimli let out a loud war cry as he leapt from the wall, holding his axe above his head and slamming the blade against the many orcs he landed atop of. Without instruction, Legolas began shooting his arrows ruthlessly once more, his chest pulling in pain for what was surely the pain of his friend. Despite his past with his father, Glóin, Legolas had become fond of Gimli, and the friendship and camaraderie between them was clear despite their constant competition. Legolas smiled at the thought, quietly thinking about how many more orcs had arrows plunged into their skin as their cause of death rather than the quite brutish dwarven axe his friend had such an odd relationship with. His mind wandered to his own shortsword, then to Talwynn, who still remained in the mines, to his knowledge. He hoped she was okay, and selfishly, that she hadn’t found her amulet as the battle continued. This was one he hoped she would stray away from fighting in.

Aragorn held up his sword again, then pointed it to the Uruk-hai army ahead, instructing the elven army behind him. “Hado i philinn!”

Hurl the arrows!

“Herio!” Aragorn cried.

Charge!

With Aragorn’s command ringing in his head, Legolas bit back the pain and grabbed one of the Uruk-hai’s shields from the ground, tossing it onto the staircase that led down to the ground. He grabbed tightly to his bow, knocked an arrow, and leapt onto the shield, surfing it down the stairs with impeccable balance. Perhaps his father would be proud. He sent tens of arrows into the heads of orcs before sliding to the bottom of the staircase, jumping off the shield and pushing it forward, sending it into the chest of one of the Uruk-hai. Unsheathing one of his daggers, Legolas stabbed the orcs that were waiting for him at the bottom of the wall; one in the neck, another in the head, both falling into the murky water that didn’t remind Legolas of anything that was similar to the namesake at home. When the closest orcs were clear from him, the elf looked forward to where Aragorn stood, thankfully with Gimli under his arm as they fought valiantly with the elven army. Legolas let out a breath of relief.

Dressed in a dead soldier’s chainmail armour, Talwynn emerged onto the battlefield already bloodied, Legolas’ sword making its way into the stomachs of the orcs that had their eyes set too close to the mines. She was the size of a human for the first time, and the feeling of it made her lip curl into a smile, invigoration ran through her body, and her much larger wings fluttered behind her. Rain soaked through her blonde hair, dying it a darker colour as her years of training as a soldier finally came to fruition. Blood soon coated her body entirely, her face dirtied and wet, as she killed orc after orc, sending them to their early graves, their bodies melting into the small pools of rainwater and the sickeningly disgusting-smelling ground. Talwynn felt truly alive for the first time, despite the pain of her bruised body everytime she swung Legolas’ sword, despite the way her hair stuck to the dirt, rainwater, and sweat on her face, this was what she was born for.

“Aragorn!” Talwynn could hear Théoden King’s shouts from above as she pushed Legolas’ shortsword into another orc, sliding it quickly out before it fell to the ground and slicing another’s neck. “Fall back to the keep! Get your men out of there!”

“Na Barad! Na Baraad!” Aragorn yelled, then looked up to the walls above, addressing the leader of the Lothlórien army. “Haldir, na Barad!”

To the keep! Pull back to the keep! Haldir, to the keep!

Talwynn followed the instruction, fending off Uruk-hais that had found her amongst the crowds of themselves and making her way towards the keep. A flash of platinum blonde hair, marred slightly by the dirt and blood of war, caught her eye, and she cried out, “Legolas!”

He heard her. There was nothing that could have stopped him from hearing her. Legolas turned his head straight around, eyes wide in fear and emotions he couldn’t place. “Talwynn!” He yelled.

There, in the crowd of orcs and soldiers, stood Talwynn, not as tall as him, but a normal size for a human woman. Her wings towered over her head, his sword gripped tightly in her hand as she fought off the odd attacker, hair soaked in blood and rainwater. How long had she been on the battlefield, and him unknowing? He ran to her, and her to him. Arrows left his bow but all he could see was Talwynn, covered in the armour of a soldier, as she was meant to be seen, fighting off Uruk-hais. She was beautiful in the light of the flames and the moon, beauty unmatched to any elf, in his opinion. Talwynn looked to him with just the same admiration, even if the braids she had carefully woven into his blonde hair had fallen out, even if his skin was tainted with the blood of the orcs he had killed, the moon illuminated his face as if Ilúvatar had heard and received all his offerings, and had let Talwynn gaze upon his beauty in return. Maybe that was more of a gift to her.

They met in the middle, and before any of them could exchange words or even breaths, Legolas grasped delicately onto the back of Talwynn’s neck, underneath her hair, and kissed her. Her knees buckled and she melted into him as everything she had felt about him in the last half year released to her lips, eyes shut, stomach fluttering as if her entire family had decided to flutter their wings in place of the breakfast (Lembas bread) she had eaten that morning. Legolas didn’t know what had come over him, all he knew was that the woes of battle seemed so insignificant when his lips touched Talwynn’s, and he let his other hand fall to her waist. The weight of the world, of the Fellowship, disappeared between them, replaced with currents running through their bodies, their breaths mixing, their eyes meeting as Legolas pulled away, his blue contrasting against her dark brown. Talwynn caught her breath with a heaving sigh, her grip struggling to keep hold of Legolas’ sword in her hands as her body weakened. She hadn’t kissed an elf before. If this was what it was like everytime, she didn’t blame the romance writers of Rivendell.

“Faerië nín,” Legolas spoke quietly, letting his fingers caress the back of her neck and the hair that resided there. “Melin gin.”

My fairy, I love you.

Even though Talwynn had no idea what Legolas had said in his beautiful Sindarin, something in her chest told her. “I love you, my elf.”

“We must make haste.”

“To the keep?”

“Yes.”

“How many have been lost?”

“Too many to count.”

“I should’ve been out here earlier.”

Legolas placed a calm hand on Talwynn’s shoulder reassuringly. “You are here now. That is all that matters.” Talwynn nodded, and he turned to the bridge. “Gimli won’t wish to part peacefully from the battle.”

The elf and the fey, reunited, began to traverse the battlefield, the taller of the two taking his bow and arrow to the orcs that strayed closer and closer to the entrance of the castle, and the shorter slicing the Uruk-hai until they lay still on the ground, bleeding deep into the dirt. The rain didn’t let up on their skin and lashes, and Legolas particularly had issues with the droplets on his much longer eyelashes, blurring his vision at times and making him blink to get rid of the ailment. Talwynn was still finding her footing, but it wasn’t much different from being small, she had concluded. Her wings would still allow her to fly, perhaps not in such torrential weather, but she hadn’t tried yet. Unfortunately, the original thrill of both coming to her destined height and seeing Legolas after such a harsh beginning to the battle had worn off, replaced by the dread of what was to come for the group. What of Gimli and Aragorn? Haldir? She longed to stop time for just a moment so she could see them amongst the rain, in their battle glories without the stress of orcs surrounding them at every second.

Gimli was the first of the group to make himself known to Talwynn. “Lass!” He shouted, a grin on his face as he slashed down another Uruk-hai with his axe. “Not so tiny!” Though Legolas wanted to smile at the reunion, he couldn’t help but frown at the sight of the dwarf continuing to battle against the field of orcs without any sign of retreat.

“Indeed, Gimli!” Talwynn called back, sending Legolas’ sword into the abdomen of an orc.

The next to see her was Aragorn, who ran over from his station of attack. “We must fall back to the keep, we are losing too many men!”

“What?!” Gimli cried angrily. “No, we are winning!”

Talwynn cringed, the smell of dead elves making their way through above everything else. Aragorn shook his head. “Gimli, the women and children!”

“They will be safer if we continue!” Legolas and Aragorn exchanged a look, and both scooped Gimli’s arms from underneath him, not disarming him from his axe, but pulling with enough force to keep his feet off the ground, dragging his flailing body towards the keep, as much as it protested. “What are you doing?” He shouted. “What are you stopping for?!”

As they made their way towards the keep, Aragorn addressed the Lothlórien army’s leader from below, calling out to him to tell him the new instruction to fall back. “Haldir!” He cried again, repeating himself after seeing the blonde man continue to fight. “To the keep!”

This time, Talwynn could see Haldir nod at the instruction, then turn in front of him to slice through an Uruk-hai. Aragorn, Legolas, and Talwynn turned forward towards the keep once again, the two men pulling Gimli as he kicked and shouted, the woman continuing to take down orcs alongside her, dodging the dead bodies of friend and foe on the ground as they went. The stench of death was overwhelming, especially as it mixed with the orcs’ natural smell and blood, and the rainwater only exemplified it. Legolas struggled against the sheer strength and will of Gimli, narrowly avoiding the sudden attacks of the orcs with a swift step or Talwynn’s (Legolas’, if you recall) sword. They were becoming more and more desperate with every moment Helm’s Deep fought back, and though it was a hopeful feeling, that they were losing their tactics and having to range into their barbaric ways, their savagery was something to fear.

An earth-shattering cry came from Aragorn’s lips, deeply rooted in pain and despair. “Haldir!”

Talwynn glanced up to the Lothlórien man, only to see him fall from his position on the upper wall. She could almost feel the heartache and sheer horror Aragorn had felt. “Go to him!” She shouted, as if snapping Aragorn out of a trance.

“Let me fight!” Gimli didn’t need to struggle much against Legolas as he stampeded alongside Aragorn towards the wall, towards where Haldir had fallen.

“Talwynn!” Legolas yelled, and she turned back to him, and to where they had to continue towards the upper walls of the keep. “We will not fall.”

The fey nodded, and they continued together through the battlefield, fighting side by side as if they had been doing it since the summer of the Fellowship began in Rivendell. Every movement they made, perhaps having both been soldiers for their lives, or perhaps having known each other for so long and so well,—Talwynn didn’t know how to explain how Legolas and her knew each other, all she could say was that she hadn’t known someone like this in years. She wondered if he had before.—caused them to move in perfect tandem. They made their way to another set of stairs quickly, hearing the shouts of Théoden King’s men with orders to brace the doors, and some kind of assault from Aragorn and Gimli on the bridge that Legolas could make out from his keen ears (and the fact that Gimli loved loud war cries). It seemed like the battle had become a perfect balance; everytime the orcs seemed like they were losing, they would come back with an unexpected attack that put the scales at equal tides again.

“The ladders!” The fey cried, scaling the stairs ahead of Legolas and gaping at the sight of tens more ladders pressed up against the walls, including three much taller ones threatening Théoden King’s last position. “The ropes can be sliced—”

Talwynn’s words were cut short as she stabbed into an orc that had come up to the side of her, unfortunately spraying most of her chest in its grotesque blood, but Legolas got the just of what she was saying, and aimed his arrow at one of the ropes holding an incoming orc ladder. “This must count for tens.” He muttered to himself with a smile at the thought of Gimli hearing his eventual number of kills, then released his arrow, sending the ladder plummeting back down into the crowd of orcs, squealing at the impact of being crushed beneath their own kind.

“Gimli! Aragorn!” Théoden King shouted from where Legolas and Talwynn could only assume was the inside of Helm’s Deep’s castle doors towards the two fighting on the bridge. The two blondes looked down from the edge of the wall, catching sight of their friends slicing through Uruk-hais, but the orcs had no intention of stopping. “Get out of there!” The king cried, yet there was no way for them to continue on towards the inside of the castle, not with the incoming brigade.

Legolas thought fast, grabbing onto one of the leftover ropes, cut and frayed from the orc ladders, but it would still work. Talwynn defended him and carved open the Uruk-hais that began to surround them as he ran to the edge of the wall, tossing it off and yelling, “Aragorn!” to get his Dúnedain friend’s attention, locked into the grasp of an orc, who also had a hold of Gimli.

With quick thinking, Talwynn grabbed onto one of the dead orcs’ scimitars on the ground, then, with one keen eye, (not keener than an elf, and still very unused to having her eyesight be so enlarged) threw at the orc in between her two friends, landing the blade straight in its face. “Quickly!” She yelled at them.

As soon as the Uruk-hai holding them fell in a heap to the ground, Aragorn ran forward, grabbing tightly onto the rope with one hand, and gesturing Gimli to hold onto his torso with the other. The dwarf hugged tightly onto the Dúnedain’s stomach, which Talwynn found a slight bit amusing, even as blood splattered across her face as she kept Legolas from an attack of another orc. He braced himself against the edge of the wall to hold both Aragorn and Gimli’s weight on such a lackluster rope, tugging tightly against the pressure as the two began to scale the stone wall, safely away from the attacking distance of the horde they had been fighting. That’s when Legolas began to pull, arm by arm, grunting and squinting his face in pain as he continued. He didn’t need to turn to see if he had an orc behind him, the sounds of Talwynn’s war cries and the matching curdling of the Uruk-hais’ screams of pain were enough to know he was well-protected by his fey lover. Lover. Even though the pain of pulling Aragorn and Gimli up and onto the wall was great, Legolas smiled at the thought that he could call Talwynn such words of endearment.

“Fall back!” Gamling shouted, his voice echoing through the halls of Helm’s Deep, and Talwynn’s heart dropped in her chest. They had lost hope for the castle, when would they lose hope for the mines? “Fall back!” He cried again.

Legolas panted as Aragorn was close enough to grab onto, and Talwynn left her station of defense to grab onto Aragorn’s shoulder plate, helping her elf pull him and the dwarf up onto the wall. Théoden King roared, “They’ve broken through! The castle is breached! Retreat!”

“Fall back!” Gamling replied.

“Retreat!”

“Hurry!” Aragorn called to the group, and led them through the crowds of soldiers on the walls towards the keep. Gimli followed, then Talwynn, then Legolas, turned fully to the other direction as he fired arrows at any orcs that dared to follow. “Inside! Get them inside!” He demanded to Théoden King, gesturing to the soldiers still fighting despite their grave wounds, despite that even the king himself had lost hope in their battle.

When inside, the company immediately began bracing the door. Talwynn and Legolas ran to the side of the room, picking up a large dining table and hauling it in through the door locks. Aragorn and Gimli picked up a large chunk of wood to do the same, while tens of soldiers that had followed them braced the doors with their bodies. The hall was beautiful, and Talwyn wished she had the chance to see Helm’s Deep in a better light, when the threat of Sauron didn’t have its eyes on the civilization, when the shops flourished and it wasn’t cursed by Mordor’s darkness, and most importantly, when orcs didn’t threaten its very existence. She stood tall at that moment. She had made it into a hall of men as a soldier, standing amongst some of the greatest fighters across Middle-Earth. It was all a bit stunning, really, but she had to remind herself to stay grounded, and she kept her eyes trained on Théoden King, who stood off to the centre of the room with Gamling. His eyes held no hope, his chest heaving with clear pain, and only then did both Talwynn and Legolas notice the blood seeping through his undershirt.

“The fortress is taken.” The king sighed. “It is over.”

“You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it!” Aragorn replied, running forward and grabbing onto a chair from the table Legolas and Talwynn took, who followed him to pick up the others. “They still defend it! They have died defending it!” He added.

“The doors aren’t strong enough to save the women and children from the brigade,” Talwynn cried, ceasing her actions and standing next to Aragorn, Legolas next to her. “They are falling ill, even the breath of the orcs’ on the outside has caused a plague, they are already too close!”

“Is there no other way for them to get out of the caves?” Aragorn asked the king, but silence came as his only answer. “Is there no other way?”

A moment passed, and Gamling shakingly spoke up, “There is one passage.” He began. “It leads into the mountains, but they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many.”

Another blow landed at the doors of the mines, they could all feel the floor shake beneath their feet from the impact. Aragorn placed his hand on Gamling’s shoulder and commanded, “Send word for the women and children to make for the mountain pass.” Talwynn couldn’t help but think about how much Aragorn looked like a king at that moment. “And barricade the entrance!” He pushed Gamling forward, towards the doors.

“So much death.” Théoden King sighed, shaking his head. “What can Men do against such reckless hate?”

The floor shook again, the door to the mines weakening at any moment, surely. “Ride out with me.” Aragorn answered. “Ride out and meet them.”

Determination sparkled in Théoden King’s eyes. Perhaps, for just that moment, he saw what Talwynn saw; the King of Kings. “For death and glory.”

“For Rohan, for your people.”

Talwynn looked to one of the windows, and for a moment, the crest of hope filled the room as the light of day did. “The sun is rising.” She remarked, and Legolas’ eyes followed her gaze. Then, she recalled Gandalf’s words:

Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east.

“Yes.” Théoden King nodded, sensing Aragorn’s sudden hope as a good sign, and Talwynn knew Aragorn had remembered Gandalf’s words just as she had. “Yes! The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the deep one last time!” The king of Rohan cried victoriously, though nothing seemed to have been won to him just moments before.

“Yes!” Gimli yelled excitedly, rushing to the steps that lay the horn of Helm Hammerhand.

Théoden King was the one to place his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder this time. “Let this be the hour when we draw swords together, fell deeds awake. Now for wrath!” Soldiers met them at the door with horses, one for each of them (except for Gimli, who remained as the horn-blower), and Talwynn and Legolas mounted theirs. Aragorn unsheathed his sword, separating from the king and jumping atop a horse. “Now for ruin!” Théoden King placed his helmet on his head and mounted his horse, Legolas knocked an arrow, and Talwynn held Legolas’ sword in front of her. “And a red dawn!” The mighty horn’s blow sounded through the entire castle, and gave hope to Helm’s Deep one last time. “Forth Eorlingas!”

One final blow destroyed the door in front of them, and hundreds of orcs spilled through the newfound opening, spears and shields in their hands as they cried out in victory, but this would not be the end of Helm’s Deep, even if they died defending its honour. The soldiers charged forwards on their horses, pummelling down the crowds of Uruk-hais with their swords sweeping across their necks, riding out into the new dawn and emerging to a sky with no rain, and the battlefield walls once again met their gaze. Legolas bathed in the sun, slaughtering orc after orc as they made their way down to the lower levels of Helm’s Deep, desperate to get towards the grand army once again. The bridge that had once held the brigade of shielded orcs became nothing under their company’s attack, striking down every Uruk-hai that stood in their way proved effective, and cleared nearly all of them off the bridge immediately. The Helm’s Deep flag flew high in the soldiers’ hands, and Talwynn felt a moment of remorse for not wearing an insignia of the Fey Realm on her.

Halfway down the bridge, the sun seemed to part for a mysterious figure in the east, robed in white and atop a beautiful stallion, unrivaled by any other horse in Middle-Earth. “Gandalf.” Talwynn cried with joy, slashing through another orc beside Legolas.

Another figure joined his side, with long, blonde hair and a helmet befitting of a soldier. “Éomer!” Théoden King cried his son’s name at the sight of tens of more Rohirrim soldiers joining his and Gandalf’s side.

“To the king!” The fighters yelled.

And with the final battle cry of the Rohirrim at Helm’s Deep, the soldiers basked in the golden sunlight began their fast descent down the mountain, shouting various instructions at one another as they met in the middle with the Uruk-hai. No matter the number of the orcs, they didn’t last a chance, and what remained of the Fellowship in the lands of peace continued faithfully down the bridge, using the light behind them to blind the orcs, searing their skin. No being of Mordor could stand the purity of the sun, and Legolas thanked Her for such a gift. Hundreds of orcs fell in heaps of blood and disgusting bodies at the hands of the Rohirrim in the centre, and Legolas and Talwynn stuck to one another’s sides on their horses as they sliced through the last of the Uruk-hai on the bridge, separating from Aragorn and Théoden King at the bottom. They killed hundreds, but Legolas could only smile as the Sun touched his face, seemingly clearing the hatred of the orcs. Talwynn smiled as he did, knowing how much the sun meant to his kind, and felt it against her face, as well.

The orcs began to fall back to Mordor, running as fast as they could from the Rohirrim, Lothlórien, and Rohanian soldiers. Théoden King was the first to shout, “Victory!” With a large smile on his face. “We have victory!”

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When the last of the orcs faded into the distance, Legolas slipped from his borrowed horse, handing the reins to one of the stablehands to take back to its rightful owner. To his delight, Talwynn emerged from one of the city walls, just as bloodied and bruised as he, and dismounted her own, regarding the stablehand with the same request. Then, she turned to look at her elf, admiration sparkling in her eyes, and Legolas could only thank the Sun for reflecting off her face in that moment, twinkling her eyes and blurring the bruises on her skin from battle. Just for a moment, they felt normal, as if they hadn’t fought a battle that could’ve ended the both of them, as if a ring in the hands of a hobbit wasn’t dictating their future, and as if they weren’t divided by race, they were just each other, and that was more than enough. Legolas looked at her as if she was the Sun, though he should curse himself for making the unfaithful comparison, he couldn’t help it as she smiled at him, lips cracked and bloody. She looked so different from when he had seen her before, relatively clean from the thanks of small bathes in lakes and facing little war because of her small stature, now covered in dust, sweat, blood, (lots of blood) and rain. This was how she was meant to look from the very beginning, Legolas concluded, and he loved her in both ways.

“We did it.” Talwynn smiled, and stepped closer to Legolas, a hand reaching up to brush a stray platinum lock of hair away from his eyes. She’d have to rebraid it.

Legolas simply shook his head, like his father, he was an elf of little words. He placed his hands onto her lower back and kissed her fiercely yet tenderly, surprising her clearly as she let out a short, chirpy ‘peep’. Talwynn quickly leaned into it though, and kissed him back, leaving her waving hands to rest on his shoulders as he lifted her up, as if to show the world (although simply just the crowd of Helm’s Deep) what the victory of the city was truly about for him.

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a/n: talwynn's poem is lisa thiel's spirit of the plants, edited to make it fit middle-earth a little bit better <3

#legolas x oc #legolas fic #lotr #lotr fic #lotr x oc #legolas

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