#insert spoiler warning here

[nectorbruise]

I was sketching and thinking about Black Friday

Did anybody watch that star kid show and knows who they are. Good ol lex foster and Ethan green, my favorite musical couple just behind Paulkins. My favorite punks, my tired parents, my lovely main characters(?) Ethan really isn’t but fuck you, he is in my heart

[meamiki]

5% of a color headcanon.... two versions since b&w emphasizes the dagger more i think but i still like the warm tones ASFSADA

i am not biased towards rainbow daggers whatsoever i promise (lie)

((also friend is streaming now and im there too!! bit more info linked here, its rated mature tho))

[neverheardnothing]

took a dangerous day trip 😱

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Inevitable (Alex Summers x Reader)

Inevitable (Alex Summers x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 13,014 Warnings: violence, angst, fluff, death, injuries, mentions of unable to have children, sad ending, implied sexual actions Spoilers: I guess the plots of X-Men First Class, Days of Future Past, and Apocalypse but the films have been out for years so don't at me.

This is the story of Y/N L/N and Alex Summers - of Aura, the girl who could turn invisible and manipulate energy around her, and Havok, the boy who could generate and blast plasma from his body. A boy destined for destruction, and a girl who could prevent it.

Their story was always inevitable.

I'm going through an X-Men rewatch and I forgot how much of a chokehold some of these characters had me in, especially from the First Class era. As you can probably tell from my previous stories, I have an soft spot for the tragic ones, so here is my little story of Alex Summers who bloody deserved better.

1962 - C.I.A. Mutant Division

Y/N looked around at her surroundings as she followed Erik and Charles down corridor after corridor. She'd never met C.I.A agents before, let alone stepped inside one of their facilities. But Erik and Charles aren't C.I.A., she reminded herself as she took in the bland concrete walls and cold, harsh lighting above her. They were like her - mutants.

She hadn't believed them at first when they'd told her just a few hours ago inside the cafe she was closing up for the day. It had been a busy day and she hadn't had time for a drink of water let alone any reasonable break. She thought she was hallucinating when the two had entered the cafe, prattling on about how they knew who she was.

It was only when she demanded they prove it - that they were like her - and the taller one (Erik) had lifted every piece of dirty cutlery in the store and had them float into the foaming sink to be cleaned that she believed them.

That was almost seven hours ago, the drive from New York to Virginia giving the men more than enough time to bring her up to speed on what they were doing and why: they were gathering other mutants like her to stop another war from starting.

As she followed the two men through the facility, only now did she start to have doubts about their intentions. For all she knew, she was going to be experimented on and tortured, possibly killed.

'If we'd wanted you dead, we would've made sure of that back in New York,' Charles suddenly said without looking as he and Erick led the way.

'What? How did you-' Y/N started to ask, but cut herself off as she remembered what Charles' gift allowed him to do.

Y/N noticed her surroundings starting to change. Instead of a war bunker, the corridors started looking more home-like and the lights grew warmer. As they approached a big orange door, Y/N heard voices speaking and laughing in the room beyond. They sounded... happy.

Finally, Charles looked at her and spoke, but not with his mouth. I promise you, Y/N, he said into her mind, freaking her out a little bit, you don't have to be scared here. You don't have to hide who you are from the people beyond this door. Here, you can be free. Happy, even.

Y/N looked between Charles and the door for a moment, imagining whose faces belonged to which laugh, which voice. She imagined herself doing those same things, and that was what convinced her that she was in the right place.

'Are you ready to meet your new family?' Charles asked aloud this time, to which Y/N nodded and Erik opened the door.

Y/N was met with six people sitting around a coffee table chatting and laughing while having a few drinks. She took a moment to admire them all - a short girl with dark hair and visible tattoos all along her shoulders and arms; a red-head who seemed to be doing a lot of the talking in the group; a man with charcoal skin and broad shoulders in a tight grey vest-shirt; a boy with glasses who looked really shy next to a gorgeous blonde girl who could very well have been a super model; and a blond boy in a dark t-shirt and leather jacket who had the smoothest smile Y/N had ever seen.

They were the perfect picture - how could she possibly interrupt that? Y/N was about to leave when suddenly Charles called for everyone's attention and that smooth smile from the blond was now aimed at her. Her heart thudded in her chest, embarrassment at being caught flooding her cheeks and she just had the visceral response to hide, hide, hide.

'Everyone,' Charles started proudly as he motioned to Y/N, 'this is Y/N. She will be- Wait, where did she go?'

Y/N watched as everyone looked around the room even though she she hadn't moved. Both Charles and Erik looked at her, but they didn't seem to see her. That's when she looked down at her hands and found her entire body covered in a translucent light only she could see. And that could only mean one thing.

'Sorry, I'm right here.' Y/N concentrated hard on revealing herself and when she could no longer see the translucent light, she knew she could be seen again.

'Whoa,' the red-head said, his mouth gaping in shock.

'That... is wicked cool,' the broad-shouldered man exclaimed.

'As I was saying before,' Charles said, sounding sheepish at forgetting her ability, 'this is Y/N. She will be joining you all and her gift... Well, we will leave that to her to discuss that with you all. Erik?'

'Yes,' Erik replied, and then the two of them were gone, closing the door behind them and leaving Y/N standing all alone.

Y/N was usually a confident person - she had to be as a waitress - but having six pairs of eyes staring at her so intently had her wanting to hide again. The beautiful blonde stood up from her place on the white couch and sauntered over to her. Y/N found herself looking up at the woman, who seemed to have legs for days and the most beautiful smile as she approached.

'I'm Raven,' she said, holding a hand out in greeting. When Y/N shook her hand, she gestured to the couch. 'You've come at the best time. We were all just about to discuss our gifts with one another.'

Y/N was quickly dragged to the couch and plunged into an in-depth conversation with the six. After only a few minutes, Y/N felt as if she'd always been there, talking and laughing and joking around and becoming more confident. Although, she couldn't compete with the blond boy with the smooth smile from earlier, now known as Alex Summers.

In the short time she'd heard him speak, she'd deduced he was the cockiest man in every room ever. No wonder he was put into solitary confinement, she thought when he mentioned he was picked up by Charles and Erik at his army base. He's probably been the instigator of more than one fight.

'We should think of some code names,' Raven suggested enthusiastically. 'We're technically government agents now. We should have code names. I want to be called Mystique.'

'Damn, I wanted to be called Mystique,' Sean, the red-head, groaned in fake misery, causing everyone to laugh.

'Well, tough. I called it,' Raven said, then her voiced changed as she physically did, eliciting gasps from the group as she now sat as an exact replica of Sean. 'And I am way more mysterious than you.'

The group gave her a round of applause as she morphed back into the beautiful blonde, but now that she'd revealed her gift, Y/N wondered if what she showed everyone now was her true form or just another disguise.

One by one they went around the room, showing off their abilities and coming up with names for each other. The mood somewhat soured when Angel asked Hank who he wanted to be.

'How about Bigfoot?' Alex jested as he took another sip of his coke. His condescending laughter communicated that it wasn't a nice joke, and that didn't sit well with Y/N.

'Well you know what they say about guys with big feet,' Raven said, eyeing his own feet before she continued, 'and, um, yours are kind of small.'

Alex's smirk dropped instantaneously as the group laughed and oohed at Raven's burn. Except for Darwin, who rounded the group back to the topic at hand.

'Okay, okay, settle down now,' he said. 'What can you do, Alex. What is your gift?'

'How about being burnt by women?' Y/N murmured just loud enough for the group to hear, earning another round of laughs and a hard glare from Alex. Y/N held his gaze with a smirk in challenge, taking a sip of her own drink. He might've been top dog back in army bootcamp, but Y/N didn't like bullies, especially if they were meant to be teammates.

Alex eventually dropped his glare, his whole demeanour changing as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 'Um, it's just... It's just that... I can't do... I can't do it in here.'

'Can you do it out there?' Darwin asked, and when Alex hesitated to answer, the rest of the group started goading and pleading him to show his abilities. Y/N even found herself intrigued. What could Alex do that he needed open space for?

The group cheered victoriously as Alex gave in to peer pressure, put his drink down and climbed through the broken glass courtesy of Sean moments before. As Alex set up outside, Y/N joined the others who leaned out the broken window to watch him.

'Get down when I tell you,' Alex said as he lined up in front of the bronze statue that's head still smoked - courtesy of Angel's fireball during her demonstration.

'Get back,' Alex said, and Y/N leaned back with the rest of the group, but they all apparently were too intrigued and so they all leaned out from behind the wall to watch him.

Alex went to make a move until he realised the group hadn't listened to him. 'Get back!' he warned again, but when no one moved, he faced the statue again. 'Whatever.'

Y/N found herself gaping at Alex as he seemingly powered up, red rings of plasma rotating around him until he slung them out into the open space but uncontrolled. The last one hit the statue, slicing it on a diagonal that had its head and part of its torso falling to the grass in flames.

The group erupted in rounds of applause as Alex walked back to them. He appeared more confident now as his teammates applauded. Y/N figured he wasn't used to that. Perhaps that was why he'd been in solitary confinement as much as he had been.

'Well, I'm glad you did that out here,' Darwin said, looking at the wreckage slightly worried. 'You've caused... a bit of chaos.'

'I can't control it, unfortunately,' Alex said, looking at the damage he'd caused. 'I'm hoping that might change one day.'

'Don't be ashamed of your gift, Alex,' Raven said, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'You're amazing.' She looked to the rest of the group. 'We all are.'

When Raven did that, Alex's attention fell onto Y/N again, a skeptical look on his face. 'So what about you? Do you do anything useful or do you just disappear when you get a little embarrassed?'

Y/N's cheeks heated with anger. Who the hell was he to judge her? He didn't even know her.

'At least I don't cause havoc with my gift,' she bit back, motioning to the flaming buildings and statue.

Where a normal person would look at the damage and wince with remorse, Alex had the audacity to look at his handiwork and laugh in amusement. 'Havoc. I like that. Maybe that should be my code name, except change the c to a k so it looks cooler written down.'

Y/N rolled her eyes while the others complimented how good a name it was. But she had to admit it was a fitting one, just a shame he turned her insult into a name for a hero.

Y/N released a sigh then held out a hand to the fires in the courtyard, concentrating on grasping the energy in the air. After a moment, small bubbles of white energy appeared and Y/N was vaguely aware that her new friends had gone quiet as she forced the bubbles to encapsulate the fires. With a flick of her fingers, the bubbles started shrinking, depriving the fires of oxygen and eventually extinguishing them.

When Y/N turned back to the group, she found them all gaping at her in wonder and shock.

'Well, that was cool,' Angel said, earning hums of agreement from the others.

'What exactly did you just do?' Hank asked.

'I don't really know what it is,' Y/n answered honestly. 'But, I think I can manipulate energy or something like that. I can create those force fields, and as you saw before...'

Y/N let the energy hide her, and she relished the shocked faces of her friends as they could no longer see her. Feeling cheeky, she ran at Alex then dropped and swiped his legs out from underneath him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

He landed with a resounding thud, his breath escaping him in a loud, 'Oof,' as he did. Only then did Y/N reveal herself, looking down at him with a smug smile.

'...I can turn invisible.'

The others clapped in appreciation of her demonstration while Alex looked up at her in annoyance. Y/N offered her hand to help him up and surprisingly he took it and together they pulled him to his feet.

'So what, you can control, like, the Force, or something?' he asked.

Y/N rolled her eyes. 'This isn't Star Wars, asshole. It's more like... I can feel the aura of the energy around me and I connect with it and then use it to my will.'

'That's it!' Angel exclaimed suddenly. 'That's your name!"

'What is?' Y/N asked, confused.

'Aura!'

'Aura.' Y/N tried it on her tongue. She had to admit, it had a nice ring to it.

'Aura, Havok, Banshee, Darwin, Angel...' Raven said each of their new code names as she looked at them, grabbing a drink for herself from the table. She looked to Hank. 'We'll find one for you soon, Hank,' she reassured, then pointed to herself. 'And Mystique.' She raised her drink high and everyone else did the same. 'Here's to our new life. Here's to being our true selves.'

'Here, here,' Sean said as they all clinked their drinks together in solidarity.

'So, what do you think?' Alex said just to Y/N as seperate conversations between the others started. Angel switched on some music and her and Raven jumped on the coffee table to start dancing.

'About what?' Y/N asked.

'Are you going to be your true self here? With us?' he asked, and there was a little challenge in his question, as if he really wanted to add Or are you going to hide away?

Y/N had so far lived her life in constant fear. But Erik and Charles said they needed her, that the world needed her. Perhaps it was time to stop hiding.

Y/N flashed Alex a small smile, reflecting his challenge in her own eyes. 'I don't think you could handle the true me, Havok.'

Alex's grin widened devilishly. 'Try me, Aura.'

1962 - X Mansion, pre-Cuba

It had been weeks since the C.I.A Mutant Division facility had been attacked by Shaw, that Angel had chosen his side, that Darwin had sacrificed himself in the effort to save them all, Angel included.

Egos bruised and hope extinguished, Charles had brought those who remained back to his mansion to train for the upcoming battle with Shaw. Which is what Y/N was doing with Raven when Charles entered the gym requesting her presence in the war bunker.

'You want me to what?' both Alex and Y/N exclaimed together in the bunker, gaping at Charles because he'd clearly lost his mind.

'You heard me,' Charles said nonchalantly, walking to stand in the middle of the room. 'I want you two to spar while you, Y/N, protect me. Expand your range of concentration so you can control different energies at once, manipulate numerous fields doing different things simultaneously. Alex now has the tools he needs to control his power so he won't be as volatile as he once was.'

'Hey now,' Alex said, clearly offended.

Charles offered a mediocre apologetic smile before readdressing Y/N. 'You have to push the limits you have set for yourself in order to become stronger. I can sense your full potential hasn't even been scraped at yet. How about we try today.'

Y/N looked between Charles and Alex, who also looked at Charles like he was crazy. But there was an air of truth to his demands. Shaw was no novelty mutant, and neither were Angel and the other mutants following him. If Y/N didn't do this, she would be their next victim, and what kind of teammate would she be if she died too early?

Y/N eventually nodded her agreement. 'Okay, let's do this.'

'You sure about this?' Alex asked her.

'Aw, is big old Alex Summers worried about hurting me?' Y/N taunted, though she didn't really know why. His concern was sort of sweet.

It disgusted her.

Alex's concern scrunched up in annoyance on his stupidly beautiful face. 'No. I just... Oh, screw this. Fine let's spar, L/N.'

Y/N went to stand at one end of the bunker and Alex at the opposite end. Charles planted himself right in the middle of the two, looking too casual for Y/N's liking. Did he really have that much faith in them?

'Whenever you two are ready,' Charles called out, rocking on the back of his heels in anticipation.

'Okay,' Alex said hesitantly as he fired himself up. His new chest plate helped him to control his plasma so he surely would hit the professor if Y/N didn't do something.

Just as Alex fired, Y/N placed a force field over Charles and the plasma blast bounced off it and straight back at Alex. Alex had to duck quickly as his own blast came hurtling back at him, and Charles let out a small laugh as the blast made a small dent in the wall behind Alex.

'Well this is going to be fun,' Charles said, and the fight truly begun.

Alex would sling shot after shot at Y/N and the professor, but Y/N deflected every shot and held the force field around the professor soundly. At one point, Y/N managed to to turn in visible while Alex was distracted and landed a few blows.

But Alex managed to knock her back, the blow forcing her to reveal herself. She had no time to worry about being exposed however, as Alex powered up for what seem to be one giant blast. Y/N managed to bring up a force field around her as the blast connected, but instead of bouncing up off it, the plasma seemed to sink into the force field.

Y/n looked around in confusion, feeling the energy flowing stronger through the force field and increasing with every second. She was vaguely aware of someone calling her name - it sounded like Charles - but the energy was becoming too much to hold up now.

Y/N let out a cry as she released the force field, and the shockwave it sent through the bunker sent both her and Alex flying to opposite ends of the bunker.

Y/N smacked into the solid brick hard, sending an intense throbbing through her head as she hit the ground. Her vision blurred and she felt drained of power like never before. Two blurry figures were in front of her, their mouthes moving but not saying a word. She thought they were saying her name.

After a few more seconds, her hearing came back to her as well as her vision, showing Alex and Charles kneeling beside her with worry on their faces.

'Y/N, can you hear me?' Charles asked, scanning over her body for any injuries.

'Are you okay? Can you hear us? Say something,' Alex said, eyes searching her face for any sign that she understood anything they were saying.

Y/N hummed in reassurance and his worry dissipated into relief. Alex quickly helped her into a sitting position as she gathered herself. 'Well,' she breathed out, giving Alex an amused smile, 'that was... fun.'

This elicited a laugh out of both men as they helped her to her feet. Y/N was very aware of Alex's hand holding her steady on the small of her back as they both listened to Charles.

'My! You two create quite the show,' he exclaimed with an enthusiasm that kind of scared Y/N. 'Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant work, you two. You have both grown in leaps and bounds these past few weeks. I daresay you will both be quite powerful when you fully master your gifts. Now, take the afternoon off, possibly head to Hank in the lab for some patching up and look overs. I will see you both first thing tomorrow.'

'He sounds like a professor talking to students,' Alex muttered after Charles had left.

Y/N shrugged. 'Well, we kind of are students, so I guess that would make him our professor.'

The two shared a small laugh and both their eyes slipped to his arm, which was attached to the hand that still pressed gently against her back. Alex quickly dropped his hand and Y/N took a decent step away from him. Well now it's awkward.

'G-Good fight,' Alex finally said after seconds of silence, unable to meet her eyes. He did the thing where he rubbed his neck and Y/N's stomach did a little flip at how cute the gesture was.

Quit that, she told herself, then realised she hadn't responded to him. 'Y-yeah. You too. Sorry... for sending you into the wall.'

'It's okay. I've been hit harder,' he said, and his cocky smirk was back. Something about his statement rubbed Y/N up the wrong way, like he was undermining her ability. That was a pretty decent fight they just had.

Y/N just huffed and stormed out of the bunker. 'Whatever,' she muttered as she left him behind.

'Hey,' Alex called out as he ran to catch up with her. 'What's wrong? You want me to apologise too? Okay, I'm sorry for sending you into the wall, too. There? Happy?'

'You know,' she started, stomping up the stairs that would take her to the first floor of the mansion, 'you can be such a jerk, Alex.'

'What are you talking about?' he asked, and he had the audacity to sound genuinely clueless.

At the top of the stairs Y/N finally stopped to let Alex catch up. She didn't care that he was taller than her, she looked up at him with annoyance in her eyes. 'You can never admit that someone could be better than you, let alone that they could be your equal.'

His face screwed up in confusion. 'What? That's not what I meant. Where did you get that impression from?'

'You think yourself superior to us all, and for what? We all have gifts, Alex. We are all special and useful and powerful. Yet you make fun of Hank, you belittle me. What is your problem?!'

Alex stepped towards Y/N, closing what little space there had been between until she felt his breath brushing her heated cheeks. 'You know, I was just about to pay you a compliment but forget it.'

'I wouldn't want a compliment from you, Alex. They're more like insults than anything,' Y/N said then stormed off.

'Princess!' Alex called out after her in a last ditch effort to have the last word.

'Jerk!' she answered over her shoulder.

'Coward!'

'Asshole!'

Y/N finally entered the lab and Hank was already looking at her crossed arms.

'You know, you two really need to take your fights outside,' he simply said, already reaching for his equipment to check her health.

Y/N raised a brow in a silent question, to which Hank responded, 'The walls and floors to this place aren't as thick as they appear.'

Downstairs where Y/N had left Alex smouldering, a certain telepath entered Alex's mind. Well that's an interesting flirting tactic.

'Oh, piss off,' Alex hissed aloud as he walked in the opposite direction towards his assigned bedroom. Y/N was the most aggravating person in existence. Flirting with her was the last thing on Alex's mind.

I don't know, I think you two would make a rather nice couple, Charles interjected again.

'I said piss off!'

1962 - Cuba Beach

Y/N was locked in a fight with Riptide when she saw Alex and Sean crash onto the beach, Angel having shot them down. As she went to attack, Alex shoved Sean out of range as he unleashed his uncontrolled plasma rings, his chest plate missing.

He caught her wings, slicing them in half and sending her flying to the ground, but as Alex helped Sean to his feet, Y/N spied Angel get to her feet, rage in her eyes and fire burning in her mouth.

Alex's back was turned. He would never see it coming.

Y/N, rejuvenated by the threat, turned back to Riptide and conjured up a large energy wave and sent it hurtling at Riptide. He tried bringing up a wall of wind to counteract it, but the wave was stronger and sent him into the side of the uprooted submarine. He fell to the sand with a hard thud and didn't move.

Y/N immediately ran for Alex and Sean, hands raised and conjuring up a force field around her friends just as Angel spat fireball after fireball at the two of them. The fireballs bounced right off the force field, angering Angel even more as she turned her attention to Y/N.

Before she could attack, Y/N trapped Angel in another force field, raised her off the beach, and sent her out over the ocean where she finally let the force field drop. It hurt her to hear her old friend's scream as she fell into the deep water, but Angel had done this to herself.

Y/N turned back to the boys. 'Are you two okay?' she asked, looking over them for any injuries. All she could find was Alex's bare chest and a hole in Sean's wing suit.

'We had it covered,' Alex said, his tone annoyed.

Y/N scoffed. She couldn't believe it. He was still being a self-righteous jerk in the middle of a battle?

'I just saved your life, asshole,' she said, stepping towards him in anger. 'Maybe you should be thanking me instead of complaining like a little boy.'

'Get down,' he said, his eyes on something over her shoulder, but she didn't care. He wasn't listening, but she would make him.

'Don't you tell me what to do you self-righteous jerk-'

'I said get down!'

Before she knew what was happening, Alex was pushing her behind him as he sent plasma rings at Riptide, who Y/N obviously hadn't knocked out entirely and was lining up to attack her from behind.

Riptide saved himself from being sliced like the statue back at the C.I.A. with a small tornado, but the impact from the plasma rings sent him flying over the submarine and out of sight.

'And I just saved yours,' Alex said as her tuned back to a shocked Y/N. He was panting heavily, obviously not used to exerting so much energy in such a short time frame. 'Now we're even.'

The way his words were haggard from his lack of breath made his voice raspy and Y/N hated how much the sound tingled up her spine pleasantly.

Y/N opened her mouth to retort at him - tell him how stupid and reckless and irresponsible and idiotic he was - but she couldn't find anything to say, and so snapped her gaping gob shut in indignation. The two just stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, eyes locked as so many unspoken emotions passed between each other.

Until Sean walked in between the two of them, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Damn, get a room, you two,' he said, his tone both disgusted and amused as he started walking back to Charles and Moira still on the crashed jet.

'We're not-' Y/N started.

'It's nothing like-' Alex interjected at the same time, but Sean was already out of earshot.

Y/N and Alex looked back at each other, both their cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Alex was the one to finally break the silence. 'We should...' he trailed off as he gestured after Sean.

'Right,' Y/N immediately answered, grateful for the change in subject. They still had a fight to win, otherwise the whole world would fall into another war.

Y/N and Alex followed Sean swiftly, happy to leave the awkward interaction behind them. But even after the fight, Y/N didn't know about Alex, but maybe there was a little truth to what Sean's words implied. It wasn't that Alex was unattractive. He was just... infuriating.

But he had saved her life, put his body on the line protect her. That meant he cared for her in some capacity... right?

1967 - X Mansion

'You're what?!' Y/N exclaimed, standing up from her seat in the middle of Charles' office.

'I'm sorry, Y/N, but I have no choice,' Charles said, his voice sad and exhausted.

Y/N should've seen this coming. She'd seen the signs. How Charles had let his hair grow out, how the shadow of a beard grazed his jawline. How he lounged in his wheelchair instead of sitting with his usual perfect posture. And the hope and colour of his eyes had faded to loss and hopelessness.

'Yes, you do,' Y/N argued, slamming her hands on his desk. 'You can choose to keep fighting. You can choose to keep helping and teaching. You can choose hope, Charles.'

'There is no hope left, Y/N,' Charles replied, dejected as he looked anywhere but Y/N's eyes. 'Erik was right. The world is not meant for mutants. The world does not want mutants.'

Y/N walked around the desk to kneel before his wheelchair. 'You can't truly believe that, Charles,' she said trying to catch his gaze. 'After all you have done, after everything we've been through, you cannot believe that. Look at what you've achieved!'

She gestured to the room, but she meant the school as a whole, whose corridors buzzed with students who possessed unique powers. Admittedly the numbers had dwindled significantly because of the Vietnam War, with most of the teachers and the older students being drafted. Y/N had managed to not be drafted so far, and had dedicated every second she had to teaching. She was now in her late 20s and had learned all she could as a student. It was her turn to teach the next generation what it means to be a mutant.

But regardless of numbers, there were still children who needed help. They couldn't close. They just couldn't.

'Please, Charles,' she said, placing a gentle hand on his cheek to guide his eyes to meet hers. He looked in so much pain - a pain Y/N couldn't see but she could certainly try to understand. 'There is still hope. There is still good in the world. We just have to find it again.'

Charles didn't say anything at first, and Y/N took that as a sign that maybe she'd gotten through to him. Since beginning her teaching career, Charles had become like an older brother to her. He hadn't given up on her when she didn't believe in herself all those years ago, she wasn't going to give up on him now.

But Charles gently took her hand away from his face and turned his chair so he faced away from her. 'Hope is a human error. I've already made up my mind, Y/N. I suggest you forget about all of this and go live what life you have left. God knows society won't allow you a full one.'

Y/N remained crouching, too shocked to argue, too horrified to be angry. As Charles turned his back on her - busied himself with his bookshelf - Y/N left the room in a daze, still unsure what had just happened. That's how she felt for the rest of the day as she taught and supervised, students constantly asking her if she was okay as she usually wasn't as silent as she was.

Y/N easily deflected the questions, but she couldn't ignore the breaking of her heart every time she spoke with a student, saw them master an ability, ask a question. How would she break the news to them? A more accurate question would be how could she? They looked up to her, to Charles, to all of them. Some of them had no homes to go back to, no families that accepted them or no families at all.

By the time the last bell rang, Y/N was on the brink of breaking down.

It was now late at night, the children well and truly asleep. But Y/N remained awake, walking the mansion, dreading breaking the news tomorrow during the assembly. God knew Charles was in no condition to break the news himself even though he was the headmaster. And Hank hated public speaking despite being a teacher. No, she had to do it, but she'd be breaking hundreds of hearts in the process.

As she reached the front foyer, looking around and remembering her first few days there, remembering the first few days of the school opening and it being full of enthusiastic and excited children, tears welled up in her eyes.

They'd just started to slip when the front doors clanged open. Y/N immediately went into defensive mode, her hands lighting up as her mutation activated

Alex threw his hands up in faux surrender. 'Whoa! Easy Y/N, it's just me!'

Y/N breathed a long sigh of relief as she let her hands drop. 'Jesus, Alex. You mind knocking next time? What are you even doing here? It's two in the morning.'

Alex was also a teacher at the school, but he sometimes slept off campus as his family home was just a few suburbs away. He usually didn't slip back in until just before class though so this encounter was a little surprising.

'I needed to see the professor,' he said, then his face scrunched with worry as he looked over Y/N. 'Were you just crying?'

Y/N quickly turned her back to him to wipe away the tears that had escaped. 'I'm fine. It's nothing.'

'No it's not,' Alex said, and he took quick steps until he stood beside Y/N. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and managed to turn her to face him. He looked down at her with such concern Y/N felt more tears welling up.

He was a dick. From the day they'd met he'd solidified that for himself. But the past five years had seen him mature, grow, change in ways Y/N had no idea he was capable of. She saw how gentle he was with the children, how fiercely protective he'd become of them.

And while they still clashed and fought like cats and dogs, they'd found comfort in each other more than once. They would always laugh on the terrace late at night as they had a nightcap, downloading their days to one another; Y/N would occasionally bring Alex food when she knew he hadn't made it to lunch because he was so busy with work; and Y/N would wake up sometimes from nightmares to Alex comforting her.

Out of all the original X-Men group, those two had become the closest. With Charles busy running the school, Hank busy with his lab, Raven, Erik, and Angel off recruiting for their Brotherhood, and Sean deciding to go see the world, Alex and Y/N only had each other.

'What's wrong?' Alex asked so gently. 'What happened?'

Y/N couldn't get a word out, her heartbreak finally bubbling to the surface as tears and sibs wracked her body.

'Hey, hey, hey,' Alex said as he pulled her tight to his chest, arms wrapping securely around her, hands rubbing up and down her back soothingly. Y/N clung to him for dear life, the only part of her body she could control as she continued crying. 'It's all right. I've got you.'

They stayed like that for a few minutes before Y/N had no more tears to cry. When she finally pulled away, there was a dark patch of tears staining his white t-shirt that he wore under a plaid overskirt. 'Sorry about that.'

'Don't be. Ever,' he said, and Y/N had never seen him so serious before. 'Now, what's wrong?'

'Charles is closing down the school,' she said, voice dejected.

'What?' Alex looked up the stairs then back to Y/N, confusion and anger morphing his features. 'I'm gonna go talk to him.'

He made to run up the stairs and no doubt give Charles a piece of his mind, but Y/N quickly grasped his wrist and halted him. 'You can't,' Y/N said. 'He's already made his mind up.'

'Like hell he has,' Alex seethed, making to leave again but Y/N pulled him back.

'Alex,' she pleaded with him, 'believe me if I could change his mind I would be up there right now doing so. But... he has no hope anymore. The war has dwindled us thin. He doesn't see the good in the world anymore. That's not something we can give back to him. He has to find that again on his own.'

Alex looked ready to argue, jaw clenching as he looked between the stairs and Y/N. But Y/N slipped her hand into his and squeezed it gently and his features softened. He rubbed the back of his neck - as he always did - as he let out a defeated sigh. 'So I guess there isn't any point in informing him that I've been drafted for the war?'

Y/N's eyes bulged and her heart rate spiked with fear. 'You what?' she asked, but she'd heard him correctly.

His jaw clenched as if he didn't want to elaborate. 'Got the call this morning. I'm just surprised it's taken this long for them to find me again.'

That's right. Y/N sometimes forgot he had been in the army just before they met. 'When do you leave?' she asked.

'Two days from now,' he said regrettably.

Y/N never considered herself an emotional person, but tears welled up in her eyes again. 'It's just not fair,' she said, breathless as she tried to keep the tears back. 'You deserve to be free. You deserve to be happy, Alex.'

'Hey, hey,' he cooed, using both hands to cradle her head and neck, forcing her eyes to meet his. 'I'll come back. I promise. And who says I haven't been free and happy?'

He swallowed thickly as his eyes scanned over Y/N's face, hesitating on her lips before looking back at her eyes. Y/N felt then something change. In the air, between them, possibly both - she couldn't quite tell. But the way he was looking at her, how he held her so preciously, had her heart racing.

'The past five years here have been the most free and happy I've ever been,' Alex admitted. 'Training and teaching with Charles and Hank... and you. You have given me a home away from home, a new family. You've protected me when no one else would; you've laughed and cried and fought with me, for me...'

He leaned in closer now, as if there was a gravitational force pulling them together. 'I will come back, Y/N. To you.'

Alex Summers was a dick, but he was also a kind and loyal man. A man silently laying out his heart before her despite their previous disagreements.

'Promise?' she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

'Promise,' he said, and with that confirmation Y/N stood up on her toes to lock her lips with Alex's.

His hands cradled her face still as he held her to him, their lips melding harmoniously as they kissed. This had been building in Y/N since day one when he'd flashed her that smooth smile that sent her stomach into somersaults. Every fight (verbal or physical), every conversation, every drink they shared, every looked that passed between them, it had all been leading to this.

They finally pulled apart but pressed their foreheads together as they caught their breaths.

'I've been wanting to do that for a long time now,' Alex admitted, his words breathless.

'How long?' Y/N asked, curious.

'Since day one,' he answered, then let out a small chuckle. 'I didn't know it at the time, and when I finally did I never wanted to admit it. I think Charles and everyone else knew before I did.'

'It was the same for me,' Y/N assured him, and Alex smiled brightly before he pulled her in for another kiss.

The rest of the night was spent catching up on lost time. Y/N was thanking Charles that all teachers' rooms were at the other end of the mansion to the students' rooms. Y/N and Alex managed an hour of sleep before the rays of dawn warmed them awake.

'We probably shouldn't have done that,' Y/N said, tracing a finger along Alex's toned stomach.

'We were pretty quiet, I thought,' Alex said, stopping threading his fingers through Y/N's hair to press a kiss to the top of her head. 'Though, you did get a bit loud when I-'

'Shut up, asshole,' she said, giving him a slight shove that sent the both of them into a quiet giggling fit. Once they'd both calmed down, Y/N returned to tracing Alex's abs. 'I mean, we shouldn't have done that because you're leaving in two days.'

'Yeah, we certainly have great timing, huh?' Alex tried joking but when Y/N didn't laugh, he sat up in bed bringing her with him. 'Hey, I told you I will come back. Nothing's going to stop that.'

'You can't assure me that,' Y/N countered.

'What was that whole thing about having hope?' Alex questioned, and when Y/N couldn't find an answer. 'I believe in us, Y/N. I have hope. You taught me that. I will come back. I promise.'

Y/N still had her doubts but she allowed herself to play into the fantasy that it would all end up okay, and she leaned in for another mind-melting kiss.

'Okay, Alex,' she conceded. 'But just know you're still an asshole.'

'And you're still a princess. But you're my princess.'

As the two got ready for the day, Alex asked, 'So what are you going to do? When the school closes down.'

Y/N had been thinking about it since Charles told her and hadn't been sure if it was the right thing to do, but she had to try. 'I heard that Raven has broken off from Erik and is going about their cause on her own. I'm going to go find her and bring her home.'

'That's going to be dangerous,' Alex said, his tone worried.

'And going to war isn't?" she countered. 'Raven is like my sister. I've got to help her. There is good in her, she's just angry at the world. You're right. I have to keep hoping, even if everyone else has lost it. Because we are worth it.'

She walked up to Alex to cradle his face as he had done so many times the night just gone. 'We are worth it,' she whispered.

Alex placed a hand of his own over hers, pressing it closer to his face which had only gotten more handsome over the years. 'You're amazing, you know that right?'

Y/N just smiled before bringing him in for another kiss. When they broke apart she took a moment to contemplate his face then laughed.

'What is it?' he asked, an amused smile on his lips.

'We're just two idiots, aren't we?' she said, her tone bordering on sad. 'All that time wasted on arguing. All seems stupid now in the face of danger and death.'

'I disagree,' Alex said as he took her hand and headed for the bedroom door. 'I wouldn't change that time for the world. I am who I am because of that time, and you were always so cute when you were mad.'

'Hey!'

1973 - X Mansion

Y/N breathed a sigh of contentment as she stood out the front of the mansion, all tidied up and ready to reopen.

'I forgot what it used to look like without the overgrown weeds and dusty windows,' Charles admitted as he looked over the entrance too.

'Now whose fault would that be?' Hank asked with a smug smirk on his lips, but it quickly dropped with Charles' side eye.

Y/N smiled at the familiar banter. It had been a long six years full of struggle and pain and loss since Charles officially closed the school. But a man called Logan from the future had convinced Charles of something Y/N had been unable to, and while Y/N hadn't be able to bring Raven home, she'd been able to help their future and bring Charles back to life.

It had taken a few weeks to clean the mansion up with just the three of them. They had no one else to ask. Logan was missing, Raven too. Erik had gone into hiding, and Sean and Angel and most other mutants had been subjected to and killed by Trask's cruel Sentinel trials. None of them had a chance to say goodbye, and that very thought haunted Y/N even now.

And Alex... Last time Y/N checked, Raven had freed him and other mutants in the army who'd been locked up from the rest of the soldiers for some reason. No doubt for experiments. Y/N had been on base that day, but she'd gone to another bunker with other mutants. Her and Raven had stayed behind after that; Y/N never got even a glimpse of him, but Raven said he was okay and that he missed her.

'That doesn't matter now,' Y/N said. 'What matters is we're doing what we were meant to be doing all along. Speaking of which...' Y/N turned to the two men kind of sheepishly. '...I actually can't start teaching again just yet. I have to go.'

'What?' Hank asked. 'Why? We need you here.'

'I know, and I have every intention of coming back,' Y/N hastily reassured. 'I just... I need to go find someone.'

'Who?' Hank asked, but Charles was looking at her knowingly.

'It's Alex, isn't it,' he asked, but it wasn't really a question. Besides, he'd probably read her mind.

Y/N nodded. 'He used to call me from base every two weeks, send letters once a month. But then the calls stopped coming about a year ago, and so did the letters. I didn't even know if he was alive until Raven and I went to his air base. But I didn't see him, and now I need to find him to see if he did make it home after all.'

Charles looked at her and he smiled, the action caught somewhere between pride and sadness. 'You really love him, don't you?' he asked softly.

Y/N found the same smile stretching across her lips as she nodded. 'Very much so.'

Charles chuckled softly as he looked away, then somewhere over her shoulder. 'Very well then, off you go. But... something tells you'll find him closer to home than you think.'

Confused, Y/N turned to follow where he was looking over her shoulder and saw a black Cadillac pulling into the driveway. It wasn't until the driver pulled up in front of the building and stepped out that Y/N realised what Charles meant.

Alex Summers stood facing her from the driver's door, smiling smoothly at her as he pulled off his aviators. 'Hey, princess,' he said, his tone somewhere between his usual swagger and pure relief.

Y/N flew down the front steps and over to him. He held his arms out expecting a hug, but all Y/N saw was red as she lined up to slap him square across his face. The sound was crisp and cut through the air, silencing even the birds.

Alex was stunned as he turned back to her confused. 'What the heck was that for?'

'How long have you been home' Y/N asked, ignoring him.

'Um, like, a month? I don't really know-'

'And you didn't call me? Let me know you were okay?'

'I was kind of busy consoling my family since I've been gone for like six years,' he argued, rubbing his cheek. 'And you seemed to be busy too. You know, saving the world and all.'

Y/N couldn't argue with that, but she still wanted to be mad at him. He had her all worried for nothing. 'You still could've called me.'

'I'm here now, aren't I?' He reached a hand out to clasp hers and she allowed him to puller her closer with it. 'Trust me, there wasn't a day that I didn't think of you, wishing I was back here with you. I'm sorry if I made you worry.'

His genuine tone softened her anger until it was nothing but relief and joy at seeing him. She pressed her forehead against his own and smiled. 'Like you said: you're here now, right?'

With that, the two connected in a long awaited kiss that reflected all their longing and love for one another. They were so enthralled with one another that they didn't hear a word of Charles' and Hank's conversation happening just a few steps away.

'Wow,' Hank said, trying not look at his long-time friends making out in front of him. 'Alex and Y/N. Not going to lie, did not see that coming.'

'Oh, I did,' Charles said smugly, though his eyes reflected the happiness he had for his close friends. 'From the moment they met, I knew they were inevitable. You didn't need to be a psychic to see that coming.'

1978 - Alex and Y/N's house

Y/N sighed as she unlocked the front door to her and Alex's house. They'd moved in together about a year ago, hating constantly going between the school and Alex's old apartment. He hadn't returned as a teacher to the school after the army as she had, and so found a place of his own. But one night they'd both realised they didn't want to keep figuring out whose place they would spend the night at. They wanted a place for themselves, and the rest was history.

Y/N kicked off her sneakers, grateful for the relief she felt as she walked into the lounge room where her feet sunk into the carpet. Alex seemed to have had an early mark from his office with the U.S. Military, as he was in the kitchen cooking. His soldier days were thankfully over, but he'd been promoted to a desk job which didn't really suit him but it paid well and he could actually try and make a difference from there. For both humans and mutants enlisted into the army.

'Hey, princess,' he said, stirring up some sauce that had Y/N almost drooling for.

'Hey, baby,' she said tiredly as she came up behind him and cuddled him, breathing out a content sigh as she attempted to meld into his back.

'Wow,' he said with a chuckle, 'no asshole today? You've definitely had a bad day.'

'Don't push it,' Y/N warned, but it was an empty threat as she didn't move a muscle. Alex was always so warm, and now that it was winter she craved his presence even more. 'You didn't have to make dinner.'

'I know,' he said nonchalantly, continuing to stir the delicious smelling sauce. 'But I figured if you weren't home by five, you'd had a hard day.'

'Aw,' Y/N cooed, squeezing his torso slightly tighter. 'Alex Summers, you can be so thoughtful, you know that?'

'Besides,' he said, finally putting the sauce bowl down and turning in Y/N's arms to face her, a cheeky smile on his lips, 'you take forever to cook and I want to eat at some point tonight.'

Y/N's smile dropped. 'I take it back. You are a jerk.'

'That's nothing new,' he said as he pulled her in for a loving kiss. Y/N really enjoyed their more fervent kisses - the ones that left her breathless and hungry for more because she just couldn't get enough of him. But this - the gentleness, the care, the love transferred between their lips - calmed and grounded her. Reminded her she was at the best place in the world: home.

'Why don't you go have a shower, relax, and I'll have dinner ready by the time you come out?' Alex asked after they ended their kiss, rubbing his hands up and down her arms in comfort.

Y/N shook her head. 'While that does sound like a wonderful time, I'd rather help you cook the rest of dinner.'

'You sure? It's nothing special or hard. I can handle it-'

'Alex,' she interrupted, heading for the drawer with all their aprons, 'I have spent all day at a desk or in a classroom looking at paperwork and marking grades. I want to help. I want to spend time with you. It's treat enough that you're home before the sun sets.'

She tied her apron up, rolled up the sleeves of her dress shirt and reached into the pantry 'Now, let's get this pasta cooking.'

The rest of the night was relaxed, with Alex and Y/N chatting about anything and everything while they cooked. They continued chatting during dinner, and Y/N laughed at Alex spilling red pasta sauce all over his cream shirt. Before they knew it, bed time had fallen upon them.

Y/N was just brushing her teeth as she was explaining how her day was going to go tomorrow. 'Now remember, I'm going on an excursion with the kids tomorrow to the national history museum so I won't be home until six, I think.'

When Alex didn't answer, Y/N asked, 'Alex? Did you hear me?' He didn't answer again, and so Y/N spit out the toothpaste and hurried back into their bedroom.

'Alex? Why aren't you-'

Y/N's heart almost stopped as she was met with Alex Summers on one knee, holding a delicate but beautiful ring up to Y/N.

'Believe me when I say I had a different plan in mind for this,' he said, eyes hopeful and the twitches of a fearful smile pulling at his lips. 'I had it all planned out and was going to do it when we go on our trip next month. But those places don't mean anything to us: here does. In our home.'

To Y/N's surprise, Alex's eyes welled up with tears as he continued his speech. 'Tonight was perfect, and I realised... that I want to have a night like tonight every night. You are too good for me, Y/N. I can be a jerk and an asshole and self-centred and rash - but you take it all in stride and put me in my place and I thank you for that.

'I love you, Y/N. And I want to love you - fight with and for you, explore with you, live with you - for the rest of my life. So, Y/N L/N... will you marry me?'

Alex never cried, so seeing him get emotional opened the floodgates in Y/N's own tear ducts. Y/N clasped her mouth as both sobs and joyous laughter escaped her, leaving her a blubbering mess.

Y/N wiped away her tears and flashed Alex the most loving smile she could manage. 'What do you think? Of course I will marry you, Alex Summers.'

Alex breathed a sigh of relief and his tears of joy finally fell as he stood up and embraced Y/N. Y/N couldn't hold him any tighter it seemed, couldn't pull him close enough even when there was no space left to close between them. But finally they parted and Alex slipped the delicate ring onto Y/N's finger. It shimmered in the low lamp light coming from their bedside and Y/N couldn't imagine anything more fitting.

'It's beautiful, Alex,' Y/N said, still sniffling.

'Anything for my princess,' he muttered into her hair as he held her close.

Y/N laughed into his chest before craning her neck back to look up at him. 'You're locked in now, asshole. No take-backsies.'

Alex laughed. 'Don't you know?' he asked, leaning down to capture her lips in another loving kiss. '...I was always in it for the long run,' he said after breaking away, warm breath fanning across Y/N's cool skin.

1983 - X Mansion

Y/N was just leaving her classroom when four students came flying by.

'Hey!' Y/N called out, and the four students stopped.

'Sorry, Mrs. Summers,' Jubilee said, a bashful expression on her face.

Y/N eyed who else was with Jubilee. Jean Grey, and the two new students: Kurt Wagner and her brother-in-law Scott Summers.

Y/N placed her free hand on her hips as she looked at them skeptically. 'And where are the four of you off to in such a hurry at this time of day?' she asked, noting how it was the middle of the day.

'Uh...' Jean started, looking unsure.

'We were just off to the library,' Scott interjected, his voice confident and full of bravado. 'To study.'

Y/N narrowed her eyes on Scott. Scott was not the studious kind, and usually she could read Scott like a book. But since his mutation kicked in and he'd had to wear the ruby quartz glasses, it was hard to tell what he was truly thinking.

'That's right!' Kurt added over-enthusiastically, and the others nodded in agreement.

Based on their adamant responses, Y/N knew something was up. But she released a sigh and waved them off. 'Okay, but don't study too hard then.'

'Yes, Mrs. Summers,' Jean and Jubilee said together, then grabbed Kurt and headed around the corner and out of sight.

Scott was just about to do the same when Y/N called out to him. 'Hey, Scott.' He stopped and turned, his lips pulled down in a frown, possibly worried that he'd been caught out. But she just smiled and said, 'It's nice to see you've made some friends already.'

Relief and genuine appreciation split his lips into a smile. 'Yeah. Me too,' he said, then he took off after the others, their laughter bouncing off the walls of the old mansion.

It genuinely made Y/N happy to see Scott making friends. He was usually the reserved type, making small rebellions but certainly not as loud as his older brother. He used to be the kid that got picked on at school, so to see him actively engaging with other kids was promising.

It was the changing period between classes and so all the students were milling about the halls as Y/N made her way down the steps to the front foyer. She had a free period so she was in no hurry.

What she didn't expect to see, once the children had cleared, was Hank and Raven of all people standing together in the foyer.

'Raven?' Y/N said in disbelief, a baffled smile adorning her lips.

Raven and Hank seemed to have been engaged in a serious discussion, but she returned Y/N's smile and opened her arms for an embrace. 'Hey, Y/N.'

Y/N accepted the offer and embraced her long-time friend tightly. 'Oh, it is so good to see you, Raven. It has been too long.'

'Yeah, since seventy-three I believe.' The two women pulled apart but held hands. Raven ran her fingers over Y/N's hands and her fqace changed to shock and happy surprise. 'Oh my God, you got married?!' she exclaimed, bringing Y/N's left hand up to inspect the delicate diamond.

'Yeah. Alex and I just celebrated five years,' Y/N said, her words taking on a sad tone.

'Five years...' Raven dropped Y/N's hand, a sad expression on her face. It was then Y/N recognised that Raven was in the skin she'd worn for years to fit in with society, not her natural blue. There was slight betrayal and hurt on Raven's face too.

'We tried finding you, Raven,' Y/N said, grasping tight to her friend's hands. 'I wanted you there. Truly. You just... Well, since D.C. I imagine you've been busy.'

Raven's betrayal morphed into shame. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I would've loved to have been there. For you.'

Y/N knew she meant it, and so she flashed Raven a smile and said, 'It doesn't matter now, though. You're here now, and it is so good to see you. Speaking of which, why are you here?'

'I came to speak with Charles about Erik,' Raven admitted, the two women finally releasing each other's hands. 'I think he's in some trouble.'

'I was just telling her Charles and Alex were out,' Hank added.

'Well, they should be back in the next hour, I think,' Y/N said. 'Why don't we wait in Charles' office until then.'

As they all waited, Y/N and Raven decided to catch up. They discussed everything from the school to Raven's personal missions as a vigilante for mutants to Y/N and Alex's marriage.

'I must admit, I always knew you two would end up together,' Raven commented, a knowing and cheeky smile on her face.

'No you didn't,' Y/N argued. 'Did you even know Alex and I back then? We fought like cats and dogs!'

'Still do, depending on the day,' Hank muttered as he drank his tea.

Y/N flashed him a hard glare before turning back to Raven.

'Oh come on, it was practically inevitable you two would end up together,' Raven countered, laughter dancing on her words. 'But I'm happy to hear you two are happy. You're some of my oldest friends and you deserve happiness.'

'Thank you, Raven,' Y/N said softly.

'So, how many do you have?'

Y/N raised an eyebrow in confusion. 'How many what?'

'Kids. I can only assume you've got an army waiting for you at home...' Raven quietened as she noticed Y/N's demeanour change. Her smile dropped and she sunk back into the couch more. 'Did I say something wrong?'

Y/N shook her head and tried smiling for her friend, but tears welled in her eyes. 'No, you didn't. It's just... Alex and I found out we can't have children about a month ago.'

'Oh, Y/N.' Raven didn't know what to say or do. She just reached a hand out was a grateful that Y/N took it for support.

'We've been trying since we got married,' Y/N explained, wiping the tears away before they even fell. 'When nothing was happening, we decided to go see a specialist. But I guess even being a mutant doesn't make us immune to human genetic failure.'

She gestured to the closed doors that led from Charles' office to the school beyond 'Besides,' Y/N continued fondly, 'I have hundreds of kids already to deal with,. Children of my own would just complicate that probably.'

Raven just hummed in agreement, but said nothing more. No doubt she could sense or even see Y/N only meant half of what she said. Y/N truly loved each and every kid at the school, but it broke her heart to know she'd never have a daughter or son that had her eyes or Alex's smile, her wit or Alex's bravery.

Before they could dwell on the sad matter any further, the doors to the office opened and in came Charles, Alex, and someone Y/N thought she'd never see ever again.

'Moira?' Raven said as the three entered the room, standing to her feet in shock.

'Raven?' Charles asked.

'I'm sorry, have we met before?" Moira asked, cluelessly smiling at Raven, then Y/N and Hank.

Soon enough, Raven and Charles needed to converse privately and so Y/N, Alex, Hank, and Moira stood in the foyer awaiting their decision. Hank took one for the team and took Moira for a bit of a tour around the school while Y/N and Alex stayed in the foyer to talk.

'Never thought I'd see you step inside these halls during school hours again,' Y/N said cheekily.

'My brother and Charles are the exceptions,' he said, and when Y/N pouted he added quickly, 'and of course my beautiful wife.'

'Hmmm, sure asshole,' she said, before allowing him to kiss her briefly.

'You know you can be so mean sometimes,' he said as he pulled away.

'That's why you love me though, right?' she asked.

'Hmmm, sure princess,' he mirrored her earlier comment, earning a light slap to his shoulder as they devolved into laughter.

'So, how's Scott doing?' Alex asked, genuinely concerned for his little brother.

'Don't worry,' Y/N reassured him. 'He's fitting in just fine. Although he said he was going to study just before...'

'Oh, he's definitely doing something he shouldn't be then,' Alex said.

After a moment of silence, Y/N said, 'I was talking to Raven just before... about us not being able to have children.'

The topic always made Alex more protective, and so he placed his hands on her arms and started gently rubbing them up and down slowly. 'You okay?'

'Yeah I'm fine, but it did get me thinking... why don't we look at adopting?'

Alex looked halfway between shocked and happy when she said it. 'Are you sure?'

Y/N nodded. 'Why not? There are so many kids in this world that have no homes, no families. We could be that for them.'

Alex smiled brighter than he ever had as he embraced her so hard he lifted her off her feet with joy. 'I love you,' he said as he finally put her down, then looked at her as if she was the light of his life. 'We're gonna have a family.'

Y/N nodded then pulled him into a short kiss, just as Hank and Moira finally came back to the foyer and Charles' office doors opened. 'Y/N and Hank, you are dismissed from classes for the rest of the afternoon,' he said. 'We have to find Erik.'

~~~

It all happened so fast.

Someone hijacked Cerebro and controlled Charles momentarily, taking over the world for just a split second. Raven, Hank, and Y/N were finally able to wrench Charles free of the power and then Charles commanded Alex to destroy Cerebro.

The incident left the whole group, except for Moira, panting and drained as they exited the flaming room. Charles was unconscious in his chair, giving no signs that he was okay.

Y/N sensed a change in the area's energy force, and looked down the hallway to where a portal was opening. 'Uh, guys...'

The rest of the group followed her gaze to where five figures stepped out of the portal, one notably being an old friend.

'Erik,' Raven said softly, realisation dawning on her face too late. He was not here to be friendly.

Before anyone could react, Erik reached out to Charles' chair and brought him in to their portal which was firing up again.

'Charles!' Raven called out.

The winged figure protected Charles as the others stepped in front of him as barriers. Not that any of Y/N's group chased after them - wait, one person did.

'Alex, no!' Y/N said as her husband ran past her. When he didn't listen, she chased after him.

'Alex!' Hank called out behind them.

'Hey, asshole!' Alex called out to the blue man standing out the front of Erik's group.

The portal reopened around Erik, Charles and the other figures, the blue man stepping out in front to say, 'All will be revealed my child.' His voice was haunting, echoing all around them in a way that emanated power. He was not a standard level mutant.

But Alex still ran, and Y/n sensed he was charging up to fight.

'Alex, don't!' Y/N was almost there, could reach him in another few steps.

'Wait!' Hank called out, but Alex was lining up, red plasma already bursting from his chest. 'Stop!'

Y/N finally realised Hank's fear. While she was trying to stop Alex from chasing after mutant much stronger than all in the room, Hank was more concerned as to what was just beyond the doors Erik and Charles stood before.

Y/N's fingers just grazed Alex's shoulder when he let out a powerful plasma blast. But Erik and Charles disappeared into the portal before the blast could reach them, instead allowing it to burn through the metal doors that lead into the jet hangar.

Y/N pulled Alex behind her as the explosion happened. She threw up her hands and conjured a force field that surrounded the entire hangar just as the fire was about to reach her face. The strain was immediate as well as the heat, and Y/N almost crumbled as the explosion bounced and rolled around in the bubble.

'Y/N!' Raven called out, and Y/N felt hands on her arm and shoulder as Alex came into view.

'Baby?' he asked, eyes apologetic and frightened.

'I'm okay,' Y/N managed out, breathing deeply as the strain increased. 'Get everyone out. Now.'

'We can't just leave you here,' Hank argued.

'We won't,' Alex answered. 'I'll stay with her. Let me know when everyone is out.' When Raven and Hank didn't move, Alex said, 'Go!'

Once they'd gone, Y/N said, albeit with a strain, 'You should go, too.'

'I'm not leaving you,' he said, the weight of his hand on her back ever present. 'Hank and Raven can get the kids out themselves.'

'I'm not just talking about the kids.' Y/N managed to tear her gaze from the swirling explosion just beyond her force field to look Alex in the eyes. 'Go find Scott. Make sure he's okay.'

'I trust Hank and Raven,' Alex said.

Y/N's hands shook and so she turned her attention back to the force field. 'Alex, I don't know how much longer I can hold this. And I'd rather you not be here in case-'

'Don't say that.' Alex moved more into her vision so she didn't have to break her concentration. 'I put you in this mess, I will see you through it. You're the toughest person I know, Y/N. If anyone can hold this, it's you.'

Y/N saw on his face he truly meant it, but her hands shook harder now and the fire was pushing against the field more. Y/N swallowed a groan because as much as she didn't agree with Alex, she had to try.

Every second counted.

But every second was torture.

In reality, it was only five minutes before Hank notified Alex that the school had been cleared. But Y/N's vision was starting to spot black and her entire body now shook. Sweat rolled down her face and exhausted tears threatened to spill over.

Alex's phone buzzed and he answered the incoming call. 'The kids are all out,' Hank said, his crackling due to the horrible service of the lower levels. 'We're coming back for you.'

'Don't!' Y/N strangled out, groaning as the strain increased. She was aware of Alex's gaze on her so she turned slightly to look him in the eyes and saw something that she didn't want to see.

Hank kept talking. 'What? No, we're coming back down-'

'It's okay, Hank,' Alex said calmly, his eyes never leaving Y/N. 'Just... keep them safe.'

'Alex, wait what-'

Alex ended the call and Y/N could've screamed with frustration. 'No,' she whispered. 'You're not staying with me.'

'You never planned on getting out of this alive,' Alex stated. 'Did you?'

'I've made my peace,' Y/N explained. 'You need to be here for Scott.'

'You are my wife, Y/N!'

'And he is your brother!' Tears finally spilled as her powers began to wain. 'He is young and scared and he needs his brother so please Alex, go!'

Pain and indecision whirled in Alex's eyes as he looked from her to the doors that would save his life. Y/N couldn't hold on much longer, but she'd make sure he would get out. Tears spilled down his gorgeous face. Even after all this time he still looked as he had when him and Y/N first met, apart from the hair of course.

Resolve and love and apology was on his face as he finally looked back to Y/N, and he said, 'Scott will understand.'

He was really doing this. He was really going to die with her.

'I can't protect us once I let this field down,' she strangled to say, tears and pain and regret threatening to overwhelm her. 'I have nothing left, Alex.'

'You've done enough,' he said gently, then manouvered himself to stand between her arms so he was face to face with her. He cradled her face in his hands then pulled his lips to hers for one final kiss. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, tears streaming down his face.

'I'm not,' Y/N replied, and despite their situation she smiled as brightly as she could. 'We had a pretty good run, didn't we?'

That finally brought a smile to his face. 'We sure did, princess.' He looked into her eyes, his gaze unwavering and the way he held her was heavenly. 'I love you.'

'I love you,' Y/N answered, then her energy emptied completely and she fell into Alex's arms.

They held each other as fire engulfed them and the mansion exploded, unable to be torn from each other even at Death's door.

1983 - X Mansion, post Apocalypse Battle

Scott Summers stood before two headstones with X's on them that had been put up in the school's courtyard. Both had his last name.

Alex Summers

Havok

1941-1983

Husband, Brother, Friend, Hero

Y/N Summers (neé L/N)

Aura

1942-1983

Wife, Teacher, Friend, Hero

Scott took his glasses off to wipe his tears. He hadn't been able to fully process his loss thanks to Apocalypse, but now that the school was rebuilt and he was back at school, he was more than aware of Alex and Y/N's absence.

He felt a hand slip into his, and he put his glasses back on to find Jean smiling sadly at him. 'I'm so sorry, Scott,' she said, and he didn't need to be a mind reader to know she truly meant it. 'I never met your brother, but Aura - Y/N, spoke often of him and their heroics at our age. He sounded amazing.'

'He was,' Scott said, looking back to his brother's and sister-in-law's graves. 'He was my hero.'

'They both were heroes.'

The two teens turned to find Hank, Raven, and Charles - now bald from the battle - strolling and wheeling into the courtyard respectively. Charles didn't speak again until the three of them reached the teenagers. 'Even as children, I knew they would be heroes. And in a society where mutants weren't trusted, even feared... They saw the best in the world. Always.'

'They gave everything they could to this school,' Hank added, eyes watering behind his glasses as he looked over his friends' graves. 'They were some of the best people I know, even now.' Hank allowed a tear to fall but he laughed. 'Even if your brother was a bit of a dick, sometimes.'

'Only sometimes?' Scott said, and the group laughed and the weight of grief on Scott's shoulders lifted slightly.

When it grew silent once more, Jean said, 'But is this to be our fate? Where we fight for a world that doesn't want us? Is a premature death only inevitable?'

'Death is always inevitable, Jean,' Raven said gently, and walked up to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 'But if Alex and Y/N proved anything to us all is that it doesn't matter what time we have on this earth; it's what we make of it. While we can, we will fight for a better future. For all of us.'

Jean nodded then turned back to the graves along with everyone else. Resentment and pain and loss roiled within Scott as he looked down at where his brother and sister-in-law rested. 'I wished he hadn't died,' he admitted, because that's all he truly wanted.

'Me too, Scott,' Charles said, wheeling up beside him. 'He loved you very much, though. Always spoke about you - about how you were to do great things with your life. I truly believe that, you know.'

'At least he died doing what he loved,' Scott said as he gestured to the rebuilt school. 'Protecting mutant kind.'

The group was silent for another few minutes, just reflecting on their times with the two people in the ground. Then Hank ushered the two teens back to class, and after sometime Raven left to go teach also.

Charles remained for a while longer, unable to leave his friends that he'd buried, that he'd gotten killed. Some small part of him wished he'd never sought them out to join the X-Men. They could've lived quieter lives, safer lives. But we wouldn't have been happy, Charles could practically hear Y/N say with that hopeful smile of hers, and Charles smiled at the thought.

And besides, if he hadn't recruited the two, Alex and Y/N wouldn't have met. And wouldn't that have been a true disservice to his students to never have witnessed such hope and love.

Or maybe they would have. After all, like he'd said, they'd been inevitable from the start.

And maybe Jean was right; possibly, a mutant's life was to inevitably end prematurely. But Raven was also right.

Charles touched Alex's headstone, then Y/N's, tears pouring down his face. 'Thank you, friends,' he whispered tearfully. 'Rest well. You've earned it.'

As the years went on, and the school took on more students and the gardens grew higher and wilder, Charles sought to personally keep his friends' graves clean and tidy. He told each student the tales of his fallen friends, the ones he was unable to bury as well. He made sure that the First Class of X-Men were not forgotten, and that their dream of a better future lived on in the next generation.

Sometimes, as he grew older, Charles saw a little bit of Alex and Y/N when he saw Scott and Jean. It broke his heart to know that Alex would never see his little brother become an excellent hero such as Alex, or that Alex and Y/N wouldn't grow old alongside him and Hank and Raven.

But their spirit lived on anyway, and maybe that was the inevitability of it all in the end.

[limethefirst]

Void Runners Pt. 1

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: contains heavy spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine, swearing, blood, the normal deadpooly stuff

summary: Reader has been trapped in the void for a few months now, after getting into trouble with the TVA, when they suddenly stumble upon a Deadpool and a Wolverine.

Part 2 / Part 3

a/n: if this gets popular enough I might write a part two, I'm having Deadpool and Wolverine brainrot, also this is unedited so pls tell me if you see mistakes

It had been 4 months since you had been sent to the Void; the apocalyptic like plain, becoming what you had accepted as your new home.

You were a time traveler, that had accidently messed up some big event and that caused the TVA to come and take care of you. You weren't sure what the big event was, something about some saving some rich guys parents. You thought you were doing a good thing by it but apparently not.

Whatever it was, it didn't matter anymore, you were now stuck here. You'd been alone most of the time, sometimes seeing other people but you had learned quickly into your stay that these others were part of this group formed by Cassandra Nova, an insanely powerful woman who you never dared cross paths with.

Until unfortunately today.

Sadly you stumbled upon the wrong people at the wrong time. As you were walking through the dusty plains, you saw two men falling from the sky, thinking back on your heroic days you felt obligated to help out. That was not the best idea, you tried to go up to the men but instead they started arguing when a fight suddenly broke out between them. By the time the fight had ended you had blood all over your (as clean as they can be in the void) shoes.

"Augh, I just cleaned these too." Is what seemed to snap the men out of whatever had just happened.

"Oh my gosh! How long has the movie been out? Five days, and we are already getting reader inserts? Wow!" The man in the red mask said to no one in particular, "And what might your name be sunshine?"

"Uh Y/N, are you guys okay, you seem to be stabbed in a lot of places?" You answered a bit concerned after seeing two men almost tear each other apart.

"Oh this? Sorry, my partner here has weird kinks-" The strange man is cut off by the other seemingly older man punching him in the jaw. "See what I mean kiddo?"

"Enough Wade." The older man gruffed, his arms crossing as he shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Whatever you say sugar cube!" The man known as Wade looked back at you, "Oh you must be wondering who we are huh! Well this hairy beast of a man is the one and only Wolverine, and I am your friendly neighbor Deadpool!" Wolverine looked at you and sighed at the at his 'partners' antics.

From there things only went downhill, and that is how you were stuck with them being hauled off to Cassandra Nova's lair.

"Awee are we having a flashback already?!" Deadpool's annoying voice rang from in front of you. Currently you were stuck in a ball like cage with, Johnny Storm, Wolverine and Deadpool.

Johnny began to explain to the men where we were all headed, going over the basics of who were about to meet and the type of woman Cassandra was. You looked a bit ahead as you noticed you were already here.

As you guys had come to a stop you saw the others being throw out of the cage, you held up your chained hands to the man before they could throw you as well, "I got it, thanks" jumping out before you got tossed as well.

At the same time you got down you heard Deadpool's odd comment, "Huh, Paul Rudd finally aged." You turned down at the man slightly and gave him a quick look of confusion unsure what he was talking about; his partner seemingly unphased by the comment, most likely used to it.

Looking ahead ignoring the bickering next happening to your right, you saw what seemed to be a bald woman in the mouth of the giant skull. As the dust cleared you could see her get up from the wheelchair she was sitting on, "What was the point of the wheelchair.." You dully commented.

Deadpool adding on, "Oh ableism great, that's not gonna go over well with the Woke mob!"

You looked at your surroundings, no longer caring about the scene unfolding before you, Deadpool began to talk with Cassandra, somehow coming up on the topic of a coke, loving roommate.

After a bit more talking between the two you hear Deadpool slandering Cassandra, and then telling her it was all Johnny who said it. This brought back your attention just in time to see Johnny's skin ripped from his skeleton.

"Not my favorite Chris." Deadpool says, not having much remorse for the scene in front of him.

"You piece of shit you just got him fucking killed." Wolverine adds, pointing at the remains of Johnny.

"Awe I kinda liked him," You mumbled to yourself, as Wolverine looked at you with a look of discouragement on his face, almost as if saying not to get Deadpool started with this.

"Hey we are all grieving," Deadpool yells, "He doesn't know what he was doing to the budget." He mumbled the last part.

Cassandra ignored his words and walked past the group, "Shush, Alioth's hungry."

"There must be some kind of mistake," Deadpool started again, "Big yellow is an anchor being and I'm Marvel Jesus, MJ if you're nasty." Cassandra turned her head a little as you stood next to them listening to their story, not getting the chance to hear it earlier. "This may be hard to hear but there's another British villain, he's gonna destroy my universe and I'm gonna stop him."

"Oh honey you don't really strike me as the world saving type." Cassandra answered him, this seemed to upset the laidback man. You watched as he seemed to straighten himself up hearing that. "Did I hit a nerve?" She turns back, almost sarcastically.

"I didn't want it to come to this," Deadpool says, "Either you help us or my friend here is gonna sing the entire second act of Music Man with no warm up"

You look at him confused, "What the hell is that?"

"Where'd you get the chair?" Wolverine asks Cassandra as she walks back towards the skull.

She quickly answers, "Every once in a while we get a Charles here, never mind though, he didn't care to find me."

Deadpool leans back seemingly annoyed, "Ughh Gen Z and their trauma bragging!" He shoots you a quick glance, "Can't you just stuff it down and turn it into a cancer like the rest of us?"

"But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together." A light smile graced Cassandra's face as she watches you guys.

You watch their exchange a little more before you notice the purple mist coming up behind you guys slowly getting closer. As you turn back around you see Wolverine getting dragged through the ground and Deadpool backing up.

"I am so not with them." You tell Cassandra hoping that doesn't happen to you.

"Oh yes they are." Deadpool fires back, making sure he isn't next. Unfortunately for him he was, you watched as Cassandra got behind him and put her fingers in his head.

She began to whisper something and within the next minute she let go. Deadpool shook his head and started rambling yet again, "You are so mean! I could taste your fingers! They taste like hate, and where in God's name is the intimacy coordinator?!"

"You're so lost Mr Wilson, long before you came here." Cassandra told him.

He took out his knife and held it up, "This is baby knife, she's gonna fuck you in the face now."

Cassandra looked at the knife at back at him, "If you're going to kill me it's going to take more then a little blade."

"How about six?" Before she could say anything else, Wolverine came up behind her and stabbed her with his claws.

"Holy shit" You said covering your mouth.

Before you could celebrate, Cassandra began laughing and fell from the claws, "This has been fun but the big guy needs to eat and the rent is due." She turned around walking away as a looming shadow of darkness rose above the skeleton you were in.

Before anyone had a chance to say anything people had scattered and Deadpool grabbed you and hoisted you up over his shoulder taking you towards the machine Wolverine was trying to fix for an escape.

You hadn't a second to say anything because the next thing you knew, you were being taken with them hopefully away from the giant monster.

[queers-gambit]

Tower Scrolls

prompt: during the Siege of Eregion, Elrond barters for his fiancé's life, and her life's work.

pairing: Elrond x intended!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 4.1k+

note: brain go wonky, don't take this too serious

warnings: we got angst! we got drama! we got spoilers! i think it's more hurt and comfort, but to each their own! there's cursing, character injury, canon-complicit character death, blood, depiction of abuse and torture, violence, is this a reader insert? i don't know anymore, but i think so. oneshot, filler, very abrupt ending.

Fire rained from the sky. Ash snowed on once white-sand buildings. Tension permeated the air. Blood irrigated soil.

Eregion was under attack.

Elves screamed in despair, Orcs snarled from outside the city walls, and no matter where you turned, you were trapped in this never ending barrage of violent misfortune. To the best of your ability, you manned the city walls and ordered the citizens of Eregion to find shelter, tunnel out of the city, or pick up arms and fight - fight for their homes, their families, their lives.

It was nearly a natural succession of power after dedicating majority of your life to Eregion and Lord Celebrimbor; a common presence, friendly face, such an outstanding ally that few hesitated to take your command. Yet you were met with resistance, some Elves rejecting your orders in favor of this "Annatar, Lord of Gifts," apparently sent from the Valar themselves to aid Celebrimbor in his creative work. They thought he was Lord of Eregion now, and since you were loyal to the previous Lord - who Annatar claimed had lost his ever sharp mind - you were looked upon with the same frown.

So, you did the only thing you thought you could do.

You protected your Lord, almost to the extent of your life. Too many had already fallen, you refused to follow; insisting on remaining with Lord Celebrimbor for the duration of his efforts so long as Annatar was in Eregion. The immortal being wasn't keen on the idea, but Celebrimbor was much soothed around you - so, he agreed, on the condition that your Lord finish his work on the Nine Rings.

After escaping before, Annatar thought the best suited idea would be to chain Lord Celebrimbor to his work bench; knowing you did not have the means to break him free and feeling it was a safe move. However, as you witnessed, the will of the Lord of Eregion was by far stronger than that of The Deceiver.

"I cannot!" You begged your Master. "No, you will not ask this of me! The audacity you possess - "

"You must!" Celebrimbor insisted, taking your cheeks in hand to smush your lips in a pucker. "Listen to me - listen! You have always known right from wrong, but now is not a time for rationality, it's a time for action. He mustn't get the Rings, I need you to run with them. Run away - far, far away from here, use the tunnels - "

"I will not abandon you," you snarled, "nor will I abandon this city, not while she still stands!"

"This is bigger than us, bigger than Eregion," Celebrimbor tried to convey his severity, forcing the Rings in your hand - but you were stubborn. For all the traits he loved, he despised your pigheadedness the most - despite admiring it once upon a time. So, he managed to convince you to cut just his thumb off after originally asking you to take the whole hand so the cuff could slide off, but he downgraded to just his digit for the same desired effect.

"Go," you begged him, tears in your eyes as you wrapped his hand with a clean(ish) cloth to staunch the bleeding. "Go, please, before He returns. Do not look back, my Lord."

"Come with me - "

"I'll hold Him off to give you more time. Now, go. Go!"

It wasn't easy, but Celebrimbor left you behind. No sooner had you confirmed his escape did Annatar return; surveying the workshop and you with sinister eyes.

"Where is he?"

"With luck? Far from here. With hope? Even past that," you answered, stood in the middle of the room - looking as if nothing could phase you. All a lie, of course, but Sauron didn't need to know you were close to pissing your pants out of sheer intimidation. "So... You're Him? I have to admit," you gestured at him, "it's a bit of a let down."

"I have many names - "

"Oh, spare me the personal lore all of Middle-earth knows," you snipped, offering a stale look. "You need a new story."

However, Sauron smirked and circled you, taunting, "I know you know where he went. I know you know where the Rings are, too."

"Then have a look in my mind, see for yourself," you smirked back, "go ahead and see that I purposefully did not ask and my Lord did not tell. Go on, if you do not believe me, have a look and know you are wrong - " You were cut off by your own gasp when Sauron's eyes rolled before he brandished a sword to pierce through your foot and into the floor.

"Where. Is. He?" Sauron seethed in your face; hot breath fanning the fly away hairs.

"Away from you," you managed to grit, the sword in too deep to yank free by yourself. "You'll never find them," you laughed without humor when Sauron's anger got the best of him; storming through the workshop, tearing it apart, searching in vain for Nine Rings that were not there. In his anger, you obtained a series of fresh blemishes as he threw anything he could to the sound of your amusement.

Yet any glimmer of hope in your chest was doused, all traces of faith and humor vanishing when guards lead Celebrimbor back into the workshop; discovering the destroyed forge and you, pinned by a bloody foot in the midst. You couldn't move from your place as the guards surrounded Sauron with the intention to apprehend him, yet you saw the threat before anyone else. You begged the guards, your kin, your brethren, to back away, to take your Lord and flee! You begged them to run. You begged them to listen, to hear you!

But it was too late.

Sauron turned your people on one another and had them slaughter each other before disposing of the final guard himself. You screamed at Celebrimbor to run, nearly tearing the blade through bone as you attempted to reach for the man who had taught you your entire life. The man who gave you a chance. The man who built you a home. The man who introduced you to your intended. The man you loved like a father.

But Sauron's grasp extended to all.

Celebrimbor was beaten senseless, the Dark Lord trying to pry information about the Nine from him by any means. Yet your Lord did not budge... And that's when Sauron turned to you. "Please, no! Don't! She doesn't know anything! I swear, please, spare her!" Celebrimbor pleaded when Sauron ripped the sword from your foot before knocking you to your knees; bowstring pulled back, arrow armed and aimed at your calf. "She doesn't know amything!" Celebrimbor screamed as your first tear fell.

"But you do," Sauron narrated, loosing the arrow into your flesh. You tried to subdue your screams, but the immortal took to alternating between shooting you and Celebrimbor with arrows; though his struck lethally, yours struck painfully. To Sauron, you were a plaything; a token to negotiate with, attempting to withdraw information by offering you harm, thinking it was enough to break Celebrimbor.

He was mistaken.

You panted as blood dribbled from the corner of your mouth, wincing as Sauron's boot came down on your knee; smearing his heel into an open wound with you flat on your back. "She... She doesn't know," Celebrimbor tried again. "She is... She's the Lady of Eregion now, and I would not curse her with such a burden as you have me!"

"Oh, a promotion?" Sauron mused, glancing at you - but you saw his underlying desperation.

"Eregion is no more," you whispered, head lulling on the floor to meet Celebrimbor's eyes and smile sadly. Blood lined your teeth. "It would've been the honor of my life should I have been able to defend your city, my Lord."

"Our city."

"How touching," Sauron's eyes rolled.

"She doesn't know," Celebrimbor repeated in anger.

"I know," Sauron nodded, "I looked in her mind. Still, the bond between you is greater - perhaps, you'd be more inclined to share with her?"

"He'd never," you chuckled in delirium, "he'd never sacrifice this world for the likes of you." Another arrow thumped into your shoulder, making you groan as Sauron angrily tossed the bow aside. Fearing your life was soon to be extinguished, you whispered, "I-I'm so sorry, my Lord. I failed you."

"No, do not say such a thing," Celebrimbor insisted, Sauron stalking over you before squatting in front of the Elven smith, "for it is I who failed you..."

Sauron sighed, sounding condescending yet soft as he reached over to stroke Celebrimbor's cheek, "Look what you have done to yourself."

You didn't care for his poisoned words, knowing your time was limited - just like Celebrimbor's. Yet the Dark Lord tried one last tactic: mercy. He promised to end your joint suffering should the location of the Nine be revealed. Your Lord was defiant still. So, Sauron tried gaslighting, and when that didn't work, he begged, "Please."

Still, it did not work and Celebrimbor affirmed his time was ending... So, naturally, after he plucked up a spear, Sauron threatened, "There are ways of keeping you both alive." In Sindarin, he added, "Friend." To the look of horror on Celebrimbor's bloody face, Sauron offered, "Must I show you my mastery of that craft as well?"

"'Craft'?" Your Lord chuckled ruefully. Then he spat, "Your only craft is treachery. So pure, it shall betray the very hand that forges it."

Sauron stepped over your limp, bleeding form too casually, quietly seething, "Your words are empty."

"No," Celebrimbor insisted, sitting himself up slightly. "No, hear me. Hear me!" Your dimming eyes widened as your Lord found his feet, back against the stone pillar he had once slumped against as support. "Shadow of Morgoth! Hear the dying words of Celebrimbor! With only Y/N, Lady of Eregion as witness!" You didn't move, you couldn't... You were defeated, you knew there was no way Sauron would let you leave this tower alive. So, you listened and bore witness for as long as you were capable of doing so. "The Rings of Power shall destroy you. And in the end, I foresee one alone shall prove your," he shouted, "utter ruin!"

"NO!" You screamed when Sauron turned, shouting in anger as he strode over you and stabbed Celebrimbor with his spear. You could only watch in fearful disgust as the Dark Lord, still in fair form, hoisted the Lord of Eregion up the stone pillar as if a flag on a pole.

Celebrimbor was in obvious pain, mouth agape, blood dribbling from his slathered lips. Sauron's words were still heard despite the low, quiet register, "You're wrong. I am their Creator." He growled, "I am their Master!"

"No," Celebrimbor's head shook as if pitying the immortal. "You are their... Prisoner. Sauron, Lord..." He trailed as his life's light was snuffed, "of the Rings."

You let your grief manifest in tears, watching as Celebrimbor's eyes found yours - conveying his goodbye as he mouthed one last apology... Then deflating as his soul, as promised, vacated this form to return to the shores. You didn't voice your note of Sauron's single tear, just staring at your Lord in disbelief - until the Dark Lord planted the end of his spear to the ground, staking Celebrimbor above all.

"N-No, no, wait!" You begged, trying to turn over onto your stomach to pull yourself across the ground. "No, please, please, take him down - get him down from there! Please, do not - do not leave him up there!" You cried out as arrow shafts were irritated back to life, reaching blindly - helplessly - upward as if you could reach the Lord of Eregion from his hoist.

Sauron watched you for a moment, the Orcs heard marching up the tower. With a swift swing of his leg, Sauron kicked your jaw - effectively knocking you out and overturning your body to your back; splayed out as if on display... Similar, but not akin, to Celebrimbor - whose pooling blood soaked into your gown.

Through your unconsciousness, Sauron eventually ordered Eregion be razed to the ground, every Elf slaughtered, and the Elven leaders be brought before him - unharmed. He gave specific instruction for every scroll in Celebrimbor's workshop to be torched; his way of punishing you for your insolence over supporting and protecting Celebrimbor.

When you awoke, the tower was quiet. You stiffly lifted your hand to your jaw; rubbing it tenderly, letting your sight refocus and being acutely aware of every feeling in your body.

"Fuuuuuuuck," you whimpered, trying to sit up but being unable due to protruding arrows. You went limp again, feeling a single twinge of anger you had to wake up because your eyes caught sight of and stared at Celebrimbor.

You failed...

You gasped shrilly when hands seized your upper arms and heaved; lugging you over the shoulders of two Orcs as a third swiped at the arrows to break them in the most painful way possible. Considering their brutish nature, you would've thought they'd have lopped your head off and moved along - but instead, they began carrying you towards the door.

"Wha-What's happening?" You asked through a slur, feet dragging under you, spying one of the Orcs gathering scrolls and tomes you spent your life writing alongside Celebrimbor in their dirty arms. "Wait - wait - what're you doing? What're you doing!?"

"Quiet!" An Orc snarled, dropping the hilt of his dagger to the soft part of the base of your head where it connected to your neck. You were silent out of sheer pain.

Down the tower you were drug, brought into the devastated courtyard where Orcs snarled at you from all sides; the two that carried you dropping you on your shattered knees. You were held at knifepoint as Orcs streamed from the tower and dropped your scrolls and tomes in several different piles a short distance away. Head injury caused your sight to blur in and out, but you knew what they were doing... What they intended.

"Please, please, don't do this," you whimpered, hearing several Orcs laugh. "No... No, no, no, no, please! Don't - " You had no more fight as collectively, your records were so extensive that several piles were made, few set ablaze.

All around you, Elves were slaughtered mercilessly, bodies left behind where they fell; the sounds of the city dying with them as the Orcs ran out of the innocent lives to claim. You could only watch. Before you, the Orcs tossed banded lassos around the decorated statue of Faenor, evident their desecration knew no bounds.

Yet hope sparked... The blade at your neck tightening when you perked up upon seeing several Orcs leading few saved Elves into the courtyard - your fiancé one of them.

"Elrond!" You cried, the Orc snarling a hiss as the hand in your hair yanked back. You struggled to the point of blood draw when Elrond's sight casted on you - trying to escape his captors, but being held back.

"Y/N!" He called back, the High King Gil-galad at his side and finding you amongst the rubble, too. The King muttered something you couldn't hear, but to Elrond, he understood the Sindarin word: wait.

"Hey!" You snapped, blade drawing a line of blood from your neck; pressure mounting as he pressed closer. You growled in annoyance.

Faenor toppled to the ground, shattering the heart of any Elf left to witness - Orcs mounting him, ravaging for hidden and seen treasures. With Gil-galad, Elrond, and other survivors, the Orcs moved inward as if to ensure the Elves had a front row viewing to the incineration of their culture.

"Y/N," Gil-galad called to attention, earning several snarls and hisses, "where is Lord Celebrimbor?"

"Dead," you whimpered, Orc growling at you in reprimand.

Elrond's eyes swept over the scene and swiftly understood the impending doom. The largest of the scroll piles was before the Elves now, an Orc pacing around it with his torch alight, tears down your cheeks as you couldn't look away as if in a trance you did not realize.

"No, Uruk! No!" Elrond begged when the Orc went to drop the flame; you struggling against your captor, both hands around his meaty wrist.

"No!" Gil-galad's beg echoed around you.

"That is the full record of Celebrimbor's works," Elrond tried to make the Orcs understand potential ramifications. "The wisdom of all who ever dwelt in this place, all accounted by the Lady Y/N, whose work cannot be found outside Eregion! Its value is beyond jewels or even blood! Take our lives," Elrond gestured to himself and the King, you struggling again on horridly abused knees, "but leave it be, I beg you."

Perhaps you were far too used to people listening when your fiancé spoke because you eagerly sat forward best you could while thinking perhaps the Orcs would listen to Elrond. Imagine your acute and heavy despair when the Orc laughed manically and turned to shove the torch into the bundle of fragile parchment. "NO!" You sobbed uselessly, watching the last of your life's work go up in flame.

You fought against the Orc's grip as Gil-galad snarled, "Cowardly traitors!"

"You fucking bastards!" Your head reared back to (painfully - nobody wins with a headbutt) break the Orc's nose. He released you as other Orcs were wrestling Gil-galad to the ground, able to pick up a blade and take out three too-close enemies.

It was the first time Elrond heard such language fall from your lips, but all he could register was the Orc punching you in the jaw in an attempt to subdue you - blood spitting to the side, seemingly darkening a bruise already blooming. He's never felt such rage.

Elrond fought with his bare hands; elbowing the Orcs behind him, punching the ones before him, fighting to get closer to you. He got ahold of a torch, screaming in white-hot anger as he set the Orc that hit you ablaze; dropping the torch and taking you into his embrace.

"My love," he breathed in your ear, able to peck your cheek just as the snarling Orcs forcefully ripped you out of his arms. "No, no!" He tried to reach out for you, but both were wrangled in.

"Please, don't! NO! No, no, no!" You gasped when Elrond was taken in custody, yet it wasn't you who saved him.

Another Orc reminded, "No! Lord Sauron wanted their leaders unharmed."

"Well, what about her? She looks injured," A different Orc growled, jostling your shoulder and pointing his dagger at your throat. Elrond was forced to his knees as you were, facing one another.

"Lord Sauron did that, said to discipline her should she resist," the Orc answered in a hiss, others shoving more Elves into the courtyard - including Arondir from the battlefield. A blade was held to Elrond's throat as your head bowed in the heat of the bonfire; being ripped up by your hair and forced to turn to watch the flames. The Orcs noticed the pair of you seemingly cared more about the literature than your lives, so, they thought you should relish in this moment.

So Elrond was held in a similar position, but his sight was on you; watching you crumple into despair while more Orcs tossed the last of the scrolls into the flames. Your life, since a youthful student, had been spent intermittently in Eregion under the care of Lord Celebrimbor, whom you thought of as an adoptive father, learning heraldry. He let you work at his side, keeping accurate, detailed record of his philosophies, ideas, processes, and creations for the histories. Yet, now, they wafted into the air as ash - lost to this Age, never to be recovered or duplicated or seen again.

Once more, you dropped your head, earning a backhand to the temple. Gritting your teeth, you let the Orc force your head up but shut your eyes tightly, defiantly; hearing their breathing turn ragged. "Cut her eyelids open!" An Orc barked.

"That's not what Lord Sauron said," another seethed with refusal.

"She's resisting!"

An Orc scoffed and stabbed your thigh with a dagger, eyes flying open as you gasped in pain. "There! See!" It laughed, holding you in a chokehold as tears leaked down your cheeks. Elrond struggled and shuddered against his captors, hating the sight of you dismantling yourself emotionally, but to witness your abuse, he hated more.

Then, from a short distance, a horn bellowed.

"Dwarves!" King Gil-galad identified, the Elves rejuvenated by the surprise (and delayed) arrival of aid. In tandem, they began to resist; yourself included by ripping the dagger from your thigh and driving it into your captor's ribs; praying flesh came too when the blade was ripped free.

He grunted and shoved you forward onto your chest and hands, able to flop over to watch your approaching demise - only to discover Elrond surging up to the Orc and snapping its neck with his bare hands.

"Elrond!" You gasped when the Orc fell to the side... Dead.

"C'mere," the half-Elf you intended to marry panted, reaching down to yank you onto your bloody feet; catching you on his chest when your weight buckled. "I got you, I've got you, love, you're safe," he whispered, hoisting you into his embrace before turning for the stream of Dwarves. "Durin!" He greeted jovially.

But when the Dwarf turned, it wasn't the ginger prince Elrond knew like a brother. The dark haired Dwarf heaved a sigh, informing, "The Prince... Is in mourning," before rushing off into the fray.

"'Mourning'?" You repeated in a daze. "Over Disa?"

"His father, perhaps?" Elrond guessed, tightening his arms to lift you and turn away from an Orc rushing forward. He blocked the enemy's advance, trying to keep secure hold of you - leaving an opportunity for you to use the last of your strength to drive your dagger (still in hand) into the Orc's throat. "Good girl," Elrond praised as the creature fell, panting from exhaustion. "Can you still fight?"

"I can barely stand on my own, Elrond," you whimpered, gripping his neck and shoulders in a vice grip to remain upright.

He nodded, "Right." With a sniffle, he lifted you again and rushed for an alcove, depositing you in rubble before caressing your face. "How bad?" He asked softly.

"Enough."

"Let me see - "

"Elrond, there's no time," you snatched his hands when he attempted to reach for your skirt, "the city is under attack, it's falling to Sauron - you need to help them. Go, go fight."

"I won't leave you."

Your ears rang with the same words you told Celebrimbor.

"You have to, this is bigger than any of us," you repeated what you'd been told.

"Elrond!" Gil-galad was heard calling, Arondir appearing in the mouth of the alcove.

"Over here!"

When the High King arrived, he paused to take in the sight of the pair of you. "Good," he panted, "you're both alive. The Dwarves are aiding our escape, we must leave now... The city is fallen," he directed at you.

"You should all go," you sniffled.

With confusion, Elrond snapped, "Without you?"

"I've business to see to in the tower."

"The tower will fall," Arondir explained, slowly lowering to a squat to put himself on your level. "Whatever you think is left is lost, my Lady."

"Celebrimbor's in there. I was taken before I could get him down."

"'Down'?" Gil-galad repeated, "What does that mean?"

Tears filled your eyes, telling the trio what Sauron did to you and your Lord; the King insisting hope was lost and it was time to go. "I cannot walk," you whispered, shaking your head, "and my injuries surpass - "

"I will carry you," Elrond rushed, holding your cheek gently, "I will not leave you behind."

"No... She will walk," Gil-galad stepped forward, revealing his Ring of Power, Vilya. You were unsure what his intention, but Elrond moved behind you to let you lean back into his chest as the King chanted his prayers.

Yet you passed out before fully healed.

"My King - "

"She's alive," Gil-galad soothed Elrond, the hand hosting Vilya laid to your forehead, "just exhausted. She's been through much, far more than I care to fathom. Sauron took it easy on her, he used mortal weapons against her."

"He didn't intend to kill her?" Arondir questioned.

"He needed her alive - whatever the reason," Gil-galad frowned.

"Will she wake?" Elrond worried.

"I have faith she will, trust in the Valar," the King nodded. "Now, if you intend to fight another day, we must go. Now."

And so, the Lady of Eregion was smuggled out of the smoking city in the arms of the Elf she loved, leaving behind all she knew and created. By the Third Age, at least one scroll written by her hand could be found in every library of Middle-earth; and in the Great Library Elrond built for her, detailed accounts of Lord Celebrimbor's work as recalled and honored by his adopted daughter, future Lady of Imladris.

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[ellestra]

The Voice from the Outer World

Dune is a story of failure. SPOILERS for Dune Part 2 below

Power corrupts and all of that. We all know this. So we would be able to avoid it, right? If you know what happens you can chose another option. You would be different.

And here's a story that shows that even when you know all of this and more and can literally see the future it's still not enough.

I get why people often think that to avoid this the person in power shouldn't want that power. That this would make them somehow immune. And this logic has multiple faults (like - how can you be good at doing something you hate?) and one of them is that just not wanting to abuse power doesn't mean you would do right things with it.

We are reminded multiple times in the film (and the books also aren't shy about it) that Fremen religious belief in a saviour is not something that arose naturally. It's a belief seeded by Bene Gesserit's Missionaria Protectiva. They seeded superstitions and myths in different cultures so they could use them in a future emergency. Everything Fremen believe about their Mahdi was created so their faith could be used by a Bene Gesserit in need. And both Jessica and Paul are aware of this even before they even set a foot on Arrakis.

It's specifically made for the saviour to be a foreign one (Lisan al-Gaib is The Voice from the Outer World) because the people who made and planned to use this prophecy were ones from an outsider culture. Paul doesn't hijack Fremen beliefs to insert himself as their white saviour. These beliefs was specifically created for someone like him to use.

It was made with purpose of hijacking Fremen religion into protecting the foreigners who know how this prophecy was constructed. This is a parasitic belief (cuckoo-like faith) and the truth doesn't set anyone free. We see why with Stilgar as he wants to believe so much that everything becomes a sign. Even when he's told this has been fabricated and he was manipulated he warps it into something that supports his beliefs not undermines them. I'm sure you've seen this in real life, in real politics if not religion.

Jessica and Chani got changed the most from their book versions. They've become opposite sides of the ideological divide. Not between religion and lack of it - Jessica obviously not a believer - but between using people and letting them decide their own future.

Book Jessica is more apprehensive of Paul's choices. She's often more worried he may not survive the trials than pushing for them for power. In here she becomes the driving force for using the messianic belief Bene Gesserit implanted for Paul's benefit. She makes sure Fremen believe he fits the story. She doesn't care about Paul's wishes to avoid this burden. She knows it doesn't matter when he tells the people the truth about Bene Gesserit, their abilities and their manipulation techniques. Belief is impervious to proof and confirmation bias makes you reject all evidence to the contrary.

But then, in the film, Jessica is kind of possessed. Stilgar warns Paul not to listen to the djinn but neither he nor his mother can stop listening to the voices. The film removes Alia's book doings but replaces them with foreshadowing of what she becomes. She whispers the truths about the future to her mother even before she is born. Funny, how this change makes her, not Paul, the first fully prescient Atreides. She is manipulating the events when Paul refuses to and that's a foreshadowing too. When Jessica took the Water of Life while pregnant she did it for the power this new position among the Fremen would give her. Alia never stood a chance. She was pre-born into this.

The only one trying to stand in the way of succumbing to the power corruption is movie version of Chani. She was never believer in a saviour. She wants her people to save themselves. They already have a plan for a better future that doesn't involve killing worlds for the Empire they never wanted anything to do with. They were not supposed to be warriors of the prophet. She sees this for what it is - a way to control her people. She understands this is just another form of enslavement. The only difference is that this one is embraced. No one listens to her when she tells them the truth. They only see what they want to see.

The power that comes from being close to the rule is just as blinding when you stand close to the throne as it is when you sit on it.

And the sad part is she knows she played a part in this happening to as she convinced Paul to give this a try. She didn't see the visions he saw so she hoped he can remain the person she fell in love with. When he submits to the way prescience shows him and takes over the faith we feel her heartbreak. She watches him becoming what he feared and everyone around him stops her from trying to save him because they get something out of it (not just the other Fremen or Jessica - Gurney puts atomic arsenal in Paul's hands).

Paul doesn't bring freedom. He just changes who holds the power but in the end the structures of power remain (the similarities between Saudarkar and Fremen are not accidental). And billions die so it can happen. But billions is a an abstract number. It's much easier to feel the consequences when they hit close and personal.

Everyone around Paul gets to gain something - Gurney gets revenge on Rabban, Jessica and Stilgar get to destroy the Harkonnens and the Emperor. They are on top now. The power corrupts before you even hold it. Just the promise of power is enough.

This film version of Chani doesn't let us forget that this is what we watch. That what is happening is not a good thing. We as humans have tendency to gloss over big numbers of deaths when it's some unseen people with whom we have no emotional connections. Through her eyes the loss is so much more personal. She loses her Usul to Paul Muad'Dib. And he takes her people and her planet too.

As Paul says - they are Harkonnens too. And they do what Harkonnens do too. The difference was always cosmetic.

And one more thing. A lot is said about Arabic and Muslim influences in Fremen culture and religion but they aren't the only ones. One other is the word used for the places where Fremen live - Sietch. It comes from Zaporozhian Cossack name for their fortified encampments - sich.

In the West the name Cossacks invokes the cruel Russian Imperial forces that tsars used to pacify conquered territories. But this is not what comes to my mind first. In the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth they were free people living in the borderlands of the Commonwealth on the territories often attacked by the Ottomans. The constant raids from the Turks meant they were warriors and constantly moving. But this also allowed for a lot of freedom as there wasn't a lot of direct control over these territories for the same reason. This meant that they were often joined by anyone wishing to have that freedom - from peasants escaping indenture to nobles escaping the law.

The dissatisfaction with the Polish rule eventually lead to an uprising and this part of Ukraine joined Russian Empire. That Empire destroyed all the freedoms Cossacks had and those independent warriors became just another enforcers of conformity for the Empire. They've become exactly what they fought against. I often wondered if Herbert chose the name Sietch intentionally to invoke this turn of events.

[youronebraincell]

I just know that Sofia uses sex as a grounding technique. The only way she can truly calm down is being skin to skin with her girlfriend. Kissing her, looking deep in her eyes. Generally being very possessive and close to her. She’d be very verbal and talkative during sex. Talking about how stressful her day was, how she’s feeling, her fears, her worries. They’re all laid bare into her woman’s bare skin until it all washes away and all she can think about is the angel kissing her and telling her it’s all going to be okay. That she’s here and she’s never leaving Sofia

Sofia Gigante x fem!reader

I’ve never written a self-insert fic but I got this ask and couldn’t resist so bear with me.

Warning: spoilers for the first five episodes of The Penguin, angst, implied homophobia, mild fluff, reference torture/abuse, smut, spit as lube, strap-on, rough sex, masturbation, minor voyeurism, sustaining injury, possessiveness, floor sex, tribbing, cunnilingus

Word count: 3K

Though she kept it well-hidden, Sofia was extremely anxious most if not all of the time. With the stress of the foundation and being the daughter of mob boss Carmine Falcone, you were the only thing that kept her sane.

Then she got sent to Arkham.

You didn’t see or talk to her for over a decade, but not for the lack of trying. Carmine forbade you from going to Arkham by ‘kindly suggesting’ that Sofia take this time away to work on herself until she’s all better. It didn’t surprise you.

He had never approved of your.. close relationship with his only known daughter.

But then he passed away.

You and Alberto were able to file for an appeal for Sofia’s release. The judge that previously handled her case was found unresponsive in his chambers a week before Carmine’s death.

You saw this as an opportunity to get a new judge, someone who wasn’t on Carmine’s payroll, to review the case. It didn’t take long before Sofia was exonerated and released back into society.

Sofia was different.

The light in her eyes had dimmed. Her smile, once so bright and blinding, had become faint and bittersweet. Every response, every move she made seemed premeditated.

Sofia stayed at your place. You didn’t think it would be good for her to go back to the Mansion so soon. To your surprise, Alberto agreed.

You didn’t mind that he stuck you with two of his guards stationed outside of your apartment in the process. All that mattered was that you had Sofia.

You gave her space even though it was the last thing you wanted. Sofia must’ve had the same thought because on her first night in your apartment, you awoke to the sound of her settling beside you on your worn-out couch, her breath soft and even against your neck. She kept her hands to herself. You did the same.

Yet when morning came, her arm was draped over your waist and your hand was close to her chest. When your eyes fluttered open, you saw big brown eyes staring right at you.

“You still snore.”

You let out a laugh.

The corner of her mouth tugged upward into a smile. It was small, but you didn’t care.

It was progress.

But then.. then Alberto died.

Sofia completely unraveled. She moved back into the Mansion and took you with her.

You watched as the family, especially that fuck Johnny, sidelined her, treating her like she was nothing more than an inconvenience instead of the only living Heir to the Falcone empire.

(Un)fortunately for you, this caused sex with Sofia to improve greatly. Not that it wasn’t already out of this world before, but it was different. It was like she had something to prove now and she had to do so by working her fingers inside of your wet cunt, her teeth grazing against your collarbone.

You were the outlet for her frustration.

Like now at her brother’s memorial.

It didn’t matter where you were. She’d pull you aside, find somewhere private and then eat you out or fingerfuck you to the brink of insanity while ranting to you about whatever asshole or shitty situation upset her this time.

When you came for the second or third time, your legs a little shaky, she cleaned her fingers with her lips and tongue. She held your gaze as she proceeded to wipe them on your dress.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

You were rewarded with a chaste kiss on the lips before she told you to clean yourself up and meet her back inside. You didn’t care that she made you feel like a whore when she left.

You were hers. Solely and unconditionally, hers.

If a whore was what Sofia wanted,

then a whore you would be.

You were reading a book late in the night as you waited for Sofia to come to bed when the double doors were thrown open, startling you and making you drop your book in your lap.

Sofia closed the doors behind her and made her way over to you, her heels clacking against the polished wooden floor. “Take off your clothes.”

You stare at her, your mouth slightly agape.

“Now, Y/N!”

You closed the book and set it on your nightstand before pulling your shirt over your head and lifting your hips to take off your panties.

You were more than a little concerned, but also really turned on by your girlfriend’s commanding tone. A gush of wetness left your cunt as you thought about what she was gonna do to you.

Sofia took off her dress, her bra and panties following soon after. She let her hair down and opened the walk-in closet.

When she came out, she looked down as she adjusted the harness of the strap-on around her waist. A black dildo stood out between her legs.

Your jaw dropped as you marvelled at the size.

Sofia eyed you with a hint of irritation as she walked towards you on the bed. “Close your mouth. I won’t be needing that tonight.”

You closed your mouth.

You moved to sit in the middle of the bed before spreading your legs. Sofia was on you in a matter of seconds, her mouth ravishing yours as she laid you down. Her hand slithered down to see if you were wet enough. She pulled away, breaking the kiss. She watched your reaction as she slipped her middle finger into your cunt.

You tried to suppress a groan, but she noticed.

“Don’t do that. I need to know if I’m hurting you.”

She spat into her hand and rubbed her spit along her length before pressing the tip against your entrance. You shivered with want.

She spread your lower lips with her fingers. Her eyes never left your face as she pushed her cock inside of you, watching every microexpression from the furrow of your brows to the slight tremble of your bottom lip. It was bigger than the dildos she used on you in the past. This one was stretching you out in a way that was almost too much for you to handle. Almost.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when she bottomed out. She gave you a moment to get adjusted to her size.

You put your hand on her shoulder, but quickly pulled it away when you touched her scars.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt me.”

You looked up at her.

“Go on.”

Hesitantly, you brought your hand up to her shoulder. You grabbed onto it. You brushed the pad of your thumb along her scars in a back and forth motion, a frown forming your lips. “I’m sorry..”

“No. None of that, okay? The past is in the past.”

Still, your jaw clenched at the torture and abuse Sofia was subjected to at the hands of her father.

It relaxed as you let out a surprised gasp when Sofia pulled back and thrusted her hips forward.

She spent the rest of the night and better part of the morning fucking into you with reckless abandon as your velvety walls clenched around her faux cock orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

From what she was saying, the family wanted to send her away to Italy. Assholes.

Then there was something about her being suspicious of Oz..

It was hard for you to keep up as she fucked you well within an inch of your life.

Sofia seemed content with the barely coherent hums you gave her every now and then.

You dragged your nails down her back when you came for the umpteenth time. You hid your face in the crook of her neck, whimpering as another orgasm washed over you like a crashing wave.

You heard her panting lightly next to your head.

You felt raw and empty when she wordlessly pulled her cock out of you. Your walls clenched around nothing, immediately missing the warmth and stretch that the toy provided.

You tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling as you laid sprawled out on the bed.

You closed your eyes.

When you opened them, you turned your head towards the sound of uneven breathing and saw Sofia masturbating, the strap-on long abandoned. Her eyes were glued to the ceiling like she was planning something in her head.

You turned to lie on your side so you could watch.

Her neck strained when she tilted her chin up. You could tell she was close. She inhaled sharply and suppressed a groan when she came, her eyes still trained on the ceiling. She breathed out.

Then she turned to look at you.

Your fingers danced on her upper arm, slowly making their way to her face. You tapped her temple. “What’re you thinking?”

“You need to go to a hotel for a couple days.”

You brushed the end of her brow. “Okay.”

You didn’t question her. You never did.

Sofia smiled and took your hand from her face to press a gentle kiss to your palm.

“Grazie, bella.”

She set you up in a hotel suite just outside of Gotham with one simple instruction: don’t leave the room. Two guards were stationed outside to make sure you didn’t defy her.

On one of those mornings while you were eating a breakfast sandwich in bed, you saw the news of what happened at the Falcone Mansion.

You saw Sofia talking to Chief Mackenzie just outside the Mansion before going in. The camera panned to Gia being taken away in a beige van.

Your heart dropped to your stomach.

You jump out of bed and put on a shirt and some sweats before opening the front door.

One of the guards, a tan woman about an inch or two taller than you, stepped in front of you.

“Get out of my way.”

“I have direct orders to keep you here, ma’am.”

“I don’t care. I need to see Sofia.”

You tried to move past her, but she continued to block your path. The other guard didn’t bother stepping in. His phone rang. “Shit. It’s the wife.”

“Go. I got this.”

The man walked away from the suite, his receding footsteps growing quieter and quieter. The woman made sure he was out of sight before pushing you back into the suite by force.

You stumbled backwards and fell flat on your ass. The back of your head made contact with the edge of the footboard. You cried out in pain.

The guard didn’t seem to care. “You will stay here until Miss Falcone says otherwise.”

She left you on the floor, the door slamming shut behind her as she made her exit.

You stood up and went to the fridge to get something cold for your head. You take a soda can from the back of the fridge and press it against the bump forming on your head. You wince when the cool metal touches your scalp.

A few hours later, the woman came in unannounced to tell you they’ll be taking you back to the Mansion. She handed you some painkillers. “For your head.”

You stared at her, your eyes ablaze with fury.

Much to your irritation, she cracked a smile. “We leave in ten. That should give you enough time to look.. presentable for Miss Falcone.”

Your nostrils flared as she left. Bitch.

You put on an emerald green, one-shoulder evening dress. You contemplated putting your hair in a bun, but decided against it last minute.

You didn’t need Sofia asking questions.

The drive to the Mansion was spent in silence.

When you arrived, you walked behind the guards and entered what you called ‘The War Room.’

Sofia was standing at the head of the table with Johnny sitting on her right. You watched in awe as she spoke. You hung on to every word.

Johnny told her to take it easy.

You rolled your eyes.

You flinched when she shot him in the head.

Silence enveloped the room.

She blew a raspberry then continued speaking as if nothing had happened. She opened a duffel bag and dumped stacks and stacks of cash onto the table. Nobody dared to move. Not even when she urged them to take what’s rightfully theirs.

“Come on, guys,” You said with a smile, sauntering over to your girlfriend. “Dig in.”

Sofia wrapped an arm around your waist. “You heard her, ladies and gentlemen. Have your fill.”

Two dozen greedy hands reached out to grab what they could before it was all gone.

“Not you.”

The woman who kept guard at the hotel froze, her body bent over slightly on the table.

“Put it back.”

The woman emptied her pockets and put the stacks back on the table.

“Everyone else, continue.”

The table was cleared in seconds.

Sofia’s eyes never left the woman standing across from her with her fists clenched at her sides. “You hurt the woman I love when you were supposed to be protecting her. I can’t let that stand.”

The woman swallowed nervously.

“Since you were such a loyal soldier to my father, I will give you the benefit of a doubt and let you leave with your head still attached to your body.”

The woman didn’t need to be told twice.

She turned on her heel and left the room.

Sofia’s grip on your waist tightened, her fingers digging into the fabric of your dress hard enough to bruise the covered skin that lay underneath.

“First person to kill her gets ten grand.”

The two of you didn’t witness the chaos that erupted as you left the room beforehand.

She took you into her father’s study and closed the doors. Her eyes raked over your face. “You weren’t gonna tell me.”

You pursed your lips. “I was being difficult. She was just.. doing her job.”

She reached behind you to asses the damage that had been done to the back of your head. Her heart ached at the bump she felt. “Hurting you is not one of the requirements.”

She pulled her hand away when you winced.

You looked at her.

“You killed your family.”

“I did.”

“You orphaned Gia.”

Sofia pressed her lips together. “I did.”

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes. It did.”

You threw yourself onto Sofia, surprising her for a split second before her surprise morphed into something else. Something more inviting.

You found yourself lying on your back in front of the lit fireplace. Clothes were literally torn off and ripped apart by Sofia’s needy hands.

You moaned into her mouth as you grinded your cunts together, sloppily and unrestrained. Your hardened nipples rubbed against hers. Your tongue submitted to hers as they danced inside your mouth to a rhythm only the two of you knew.

She bit your bottom lip when you reached down and cupped her ass, urging her on. You welcomed the taste of your own blood on your tongue.

A thick strand of saliva connected your lips together when she broke the kiss.

“You’re so gorgeous when you’re like this, bella;”

Sofia leaned down to nip at your earlobe.

“Spent, barely hanging on,”

Her tongue licked the shell of your ear.

“But begging for more.”

She kissed you again. You both orgasmed simultaneously, moaning into each other’s mouths while getting down from your highs, your hips bucking wantonly to chase after each other.

When you broke apart for air, you pushed her down so she was the one lying on her back.

“I haven’t seen you in days,” You said as you made your way down her body. You stop inches away from her cunt. “Care to bring me up to speed while I eat you out, Miss Gigante?”

Sofia loved the way her new name rolled of your tongue. “Only if you put that tongue to good use.”

“Don’t I always?”

You ate out Sofia as she told you what you had missed, your mouth and tongue working overtime to satisfy the woman you loved.

Oz betrayed her (surprise, surprise), Julian ‘saved’ her after the Maronis ambushed her and then she killed him before killing the Falcones.

You listened intently to each and every word.

Your bodies were covered in thick layers of sweat by the time the two of you were finished.

You had your head on her chest. You drew meaningless patterns on her arm and stomach while her fingers played with your hair.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You looked up at her. “For what?”

“Everything, I suppose” She looked deep into your eyes. “You could’ve abandoned me a handful of times, but you didn’t. Which is more than I could say for my family. May they rest in peace.”

You tried not to smile at that.

“Now that Berto’s gone, you’re all I have.”

She cupped your left cheek, her thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth.

“I love you. I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life. Hopefully, I’ll never have to find out.”

You weren’t stupid. There was an underlying threat to her words. Of course there was.

There was no forgetting what Sofia was. Even when you were putty in her arms like you are now, you knew what she was capable of when crossed.

Still, you gave her a genuine smile. “I love you too. Even if you accuse me of snoring which I don’t.”

Sofia let out a loud laugh.

You caved three seconds in and laughed with her.

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion was not a "corrupt" magistrate.

Hello again. Just more opinion about my favorite battle buddy. Warning, trigger words in use. Game spoilers.

It's not quite set in stone that Astarion really was a magistrate, but we are going to go with the idea he was for this thought pocket. Also this is just game as it is now info use.

I don't believe he was corrupt magistrate. There were a few things in the game that called that out, but one in particular really set it in stone for me.

His response to the Ansur lair puzzle regarding justice.

Astarion: “Mercy?! Please. Justice should be a harsh lesson. All the better to deter the next vagabond.”

This makes me think he was a bit of a hard ass as a magistrate, but not corrupt. Had he been dealing dirty in the background I really feel like this answer would have been more dismissive or flippant. But he is pretty intent that this is his stance. Very, iv said this a thousand times, type feel.

I think, he was more of a by the book, law is law type. You murder and rape you swing from the gallows. You steal from a shop keeper, you do time. Period.

My theory is, he got beat up because he wasn't lenient with a member of the Gur that was on trial.

"Leniency?! You have been found guilty of negligence resulting in the death of a innocent! You are owed nothing!"

Could you hear it?

"But he talks about being hedonistic and indulgent all the time. "

Yes, but most patriar level citizens were spoiled entitled brats that did what they desired. Have you talked to some of them in the upper city? Yeeesh.

Was he arrogant? Most likely. Prejudice? Obviously (insert gnomes here). But being a haughty jerk does not make one evil.

Sex, nudity, orgies, parties, over indulging etc are not taboo in Faerun. If everybody is consenting to be being naked in a fountain, hopefully in a private villa garden, its not a crime. He talks about that like its a memory, but I like to think his wine drunk giggly ass was actually in that fountain.

If you want to have a little rabbit hole fun, break down the name. Faerun = Fae Run = Run by the Fae. And last I checked, fairies were always down for some naked in the water time. I mean, come on, you can go to pound town with a bear. (No offence, Halsin.) You think they are going to draw the line at how may wieners you can have in the same pot? I think not.

I think the criminal behavior came after he was turned. Cazador may have been targeting him, but not because they were involved. But maybe due to him looking like his old master Vellioth? And he took advantage of a situation. Who knows, lots of ideas there.

"But he's always getting onto Tav for doing the "right" thing."

Yup, Tav is being too trusting and getting too involved with other peoples problems. Why is this an issue for Astarion? Kindness was what got him entombed for a year. He cared about that sweet mans life and was severally punished for it. Its akin to being mauled by a dog and then watching people just reach out a pet every one they see. The anxiety of that attack is still there and it paints every encounter with its opinion. Danger.

"He's not smart enough."

Oh I bet he is. You can be whip smart at a subject and socially akward at the same time. I'm very good at my job. I know it inside and out and can give you any detail, rule, configuration at the drop of a hat in the most professional and proficient way possible. But ask me to be eloquent in a social situation? HA! You are better off asking a rock to fart. Unrelated.

"But he wants to ascend, and that's evil."

That is more about who is is after years of torment and abuse. Not before.

I think the rogue role was adopted to stay alive while hunting. And what a gods awful fate to be turned into the thing you hated the most. A criminal.

I'm sure Caz was real tickled by that. Expletive Adjective.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.�� he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 30th

Day 30: Weight Gain // Object Insertion // Sex Pollen

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Post apocalyptic setting, mentions of infection, begging to die, fuck or die, sex pollen, mentions of murder, rough sex, premature ejaculation, unprotected sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

His hands shake, trembling so hard that he can barely hold onto the door knob. Growling out your name as he tries to twist it and turn it with no luck. His entire body is on fire and the press of his cock against his jeans is so hard he feels like he’s about to burst his zipper. Shouting your name again and then beating on the door desperately. “Open the door!”

Your eyes are wide, rushing to the door to fling it open and he crashes through it. “I- fuck, you have to kill me.” He had only come to tell you goodbye. Promising you that he would never just disappear, even though it was hard to promise with the way the world was. Still, he had wanted to reassure you just once you weren’t going to be left alone again. 

“What?” Your hands tighten on his jacket, holding him steady while he resists the urge to just drag you down to the floor and rip your clothes off. His vision blurs, sweat beading on his forehead despite the fact that it’s cold. His body temperature has skyrocketed in the past two hours since he had been infected. “Joel, what is-” 

“I’m infected.” 

You jerking away from him makes his heart ache. Remembering how he had done the same to Tess so many years ago. Regret pooling in his stomach as he wishes he could change the past. There would be so many things he would have done differently, said to those that mattered. Now nothing matters except protecting you and all of Jackson from himself. “No.” 

Joel nods, “I- I ran into a - a clicker.” Dread settles into your stomach and you flinch when he moves his hand, but he just sinks his fingers into his hair and tugs on it. “I- I need you to do it.” He pants, his eyes pleading and there’s unspoken apologies swimming in their depths. 

“Where?” You demand, shaking your head in denial. Joel frowns and you repeat yourself. “Where?” You want to know where he was bit, if there's a chance you can amputate his limb. If there’s a chance to save him. 

“Seven miles-”

“Where were you bit?” You snap impatiently, swallowing harshly and wanting to pull his clothes off his body and search for the wound yourself. 

“I wasn’t.” His answer makes you freeze, frowning at him. “It- it kissed me.” 

You’ve never heard of a clicker kissing someone. Frowning, you stare into his eyes, searching for the spider webbing of red veins that seems to change the pupils before a person is completely taken over by the cordyceps. “Kissed you?” 

He nods, knowing it sounds insane, but that’s not the point. His cock twitches, leaking into his boxers and he moans softly, closing his eyes and swaying where he stands. “I - you have to do it, baby.” He insists, knowing that providing you closer is the best he can offer you right now. “I- I don’t know what is happening to me.” 

“Strip down.” You tell him, frowning in confusion. He’s not acting like anyone you've ever seen infected. 

“Baby-”

“Strip down.” You order, your tone harder and he stares at you for a minute before he nods. Hands shaking as he peels off his jacket and starts to unbutton his shirt. It might be better this way. Easier for him to take off his clothes than for you to do it after he’s gone. No chance of blood getting on them. They could be boiled and given to someone else. 

He is shaking. You can see it. Joel’s hands haven’t shook in a long time. Not since he’s accepted that Ellie isn’t talking to him. To find peace in what he had done to protect her. You know all about it, having come into his life after the rift had been created and over time, you had become a kind of bridge between the two of them. Ellie would sometimes ask about him, and Joel would give you something to pass to her. Now he can barely unbutton his shirt and you seem him grit his teeth as he hisses out a sound of pure pain. 

Fumbling with his belt and buttons on his jeans when he finally gets his shirt off. Groaning your name, his hand slides down to cup his cock through the material, making your eyes widen in surprise. It’s not like Joel has never touched himself in front of you, but you couldn’t imagine that he’s horny now. 

Except that he is. His cock is hard, springing out of his pants and nearly purple with need. Dribbling precum down the side of his length, and it twitches every few seconds like it is begging for attention. It bounces heavily as Joel kicks off the jeans and he shudders when he sees you staring at his cock. “Fuck baby…..” He groans, hands in fists at his side. “I don’t- I haven’t- I don’t know what the fuck is happening.” 

You don’t know what is going on either, but you don’t think that he’s infected. Not like normal cordyceps. He’s not showing any other signs of the fungus taking over, unless you count the shaking and you don’t think that is what is happening here. 

“Describe it to me.” He whines when you say that. Joel Miller whines. That is a sound you haven’t heard ever, not even when he was impatient to slide inside you. 

“I need-” He pants, eyes slipping closed and he takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I need-” He swallows. “I need you.” He finally manages. “I need to fuck you. To cum inside you. To fuck you until you can’t walk and my back gives out and then I want you to ride me.” 

You listen to his tone, the desperation, his cock twitching every other word that falls from his lips. Four fat drops of cum have fallen from the weeping tip of his cock and hit the floor while he describes what he needs. 

“Why?” You are getting wet just thinking about it, but you don’t know what the fuck to do. Why is he acting this way? 

“I’m on fire.” He hisses. “Burning from the inside. I feel-” He shudders again. “I feel like I’m about to come unglued. Like my cock is going to explode if I don’t sink into your cunt. Bury myself deep and -” He groans, uncurling his fist and sliding it against his thigh, inching closer to his needy cock. “Fuuuuuuck.” 

His eyes open and they are black with desire. None of the cordyceps yellow in his iris, nothing showing but hunger. Fixed on you and he takes a step towards you, almost ready to break before he holds himself back. “Baby, I need you to do something.” He growls. “I can’t- I don’t know how much longer I can last. Put me out of my fuckin’ misery.” 

You have a decision. Something you have to roll the dice on. Do you fuck him or kill him? You can’t choose wrong and you don’t want to kill him. Even if your mind is revolting and screaming that you are in danger, this is Joel. You know that he would kill for you, but he would never kill you. 

So you strip. His eyes have closed again, panting breaths covering the sound of your clothes hitting the floor and when you step forward to touch him, Joel nearly jumps. Eyes springing open and you can see that he thinks you are about to kill him for a split second before he realizes that you are naked. 

His nostrils flare and before you know it, Joel is spinning you around and pressing you against the kitchen table, his mouth fusing with yours before you can even squeak. 

There’s nothing breathed into you. No fungus crawling out of his mouth, no infection. Just the heavy flick of his tongue against yours while his hands grab your hips and push you up onto the table to spread your thighs and crowd in between them. 

He’s rough, much rougher than he’s ever been with you before but it's the need that is driving him. A desperation to fuck you that has him pressing against you and pushing inside your body before you are ready. 

The pinch of his cock makes you gasp but his own groan overpowers the sound. Absorbing it as he pushes in to the hilt and panting your name into your mouth. Only to immediately start fucking you like he is running a race that has to be finished. 

Joel quickly takes over all of your senses, making you forget everything but the way he is punching deep into your cunt with heavy, hard thrusts. Feeling like he is in your stomach and you hear him whimper in pleasure every time he pushes deep. 

He gets a dozen thrusts in before his hips stutter, a strangled groan coming from the back of his throat and you feel the heat flooding your womb. He’s cum. A lot. You feel it start to drip out of your cunt even as he continues to rock his hips. 

Breathless, he presses closer to you and for a moment you think that he will collapse against you. Only to start to push his hips back again to start moving again. The thrusts are shallow and squelching as he pushes the newly deposited cum out of your pussy. Still achingly hard and ready for round two. 

“Joel-” He’s never gone two rounds. He needs hours before he can even think about getting hard again. One of those complaints of old age that bothers him more than you. But right now he is still desperate to move inside you. To fuck you. 

“I can’t - I need more.” He growls, pressing his lips to yours and wrapping his arms around you to drag you closer to the edge, needing to be deeper inside you. Something happened out there in those woods. Something changed inside of him. There’s this need for you that is burning in his blood and he doesn’t know how long it will take for him to get it out of his system. Or if he can. 

[violerrs]

— Lost In The Shadow ❞

ZERO | EVERYTHING TO NOTHING

masterlist • next • previous

BATFAM X DAUGHTER!ZEN'IN!READERX JUJUTSU KAISEN

SYPNOPSIS; living as Bruce Wayne daughter already hard enough. it's more harder when you're one of Zen'in survivor and the only jujutsu sorcerer in the Vigilante Family.

Italics=in japanese

WARNING; using a lot of ocs, people from jujutsu kaisen are already aged up to adulthood, post-culling game arc(jkk ending), swearings, abandonment, death, child trauma, i hate happiness, english is not my mother language, female reader insert, spoilers, violance vigilante stuff ykyk, ooc, mention of trauma, etc etc.

[Name] had an ideal life from the beginning of her life. A small family, a good relationship with her parents, a friend to stay with, all the dolls she desires, and a family vacation in a tiny cabin on the "land of the rising sun" side of the country. [Name] never dares to forget a memory from childhood. It's unfortunate that such a recollection didn't endure for very long. They were forced to leave the country and go to New Jersey in order to escape the chaos there.

They landed in Gotham City, which is gloomy and full of crime, very different from what the young girl had anticipated. Her father reassured her that nothing would ever come her way, and he said this with the same smile that instantly calmed her thoughts. She nodded and smiled at him, knowing that it was only the calm before the storm. and folks who traveled far and wide for them following her parents. What followed was a hazy recollection buried beneath her sorrow; her father perished in an explosion, and even today [name] can still hear the deafening noises ringing in her ears. She pondered whether he would still be alive if she followed her mother's advice. Would he hold her close to him again? Her mother pulled her away from the site as the explosion's impact shattered the surrounding area, and she ran away to a place where the people who were pursuing her would never find her.

Nothing is ever the same. [name] is struggling to reintegrate into her former shell; she lost a piece of herself in that explosion, and almost three months have passed, yet nothing will ease the pain. She begins to miss her old home, her buddy, the cabin, and most of all, her papa. The young child even begins pleading with her mother to allow her to return to Okayama and resume their previous way of life. However, the woman gently declined, instead showing her affectionate caress for her daughter's hair without providing a reason, only the consolation of a puppy that sprang out of her shadow can temporarily ease her anxiety. and at such a young age, her cursed technique manifested.

She was wearing a cute [color] dress one day in their rented flat, and her mother was wearing the same dress. Were they anticipating a visitor? For whom might her mother be waiting? Her mother hurried to open the door of their apartment after hearing a gentle knock, and a man with blue eyes entered the room. He glanced at the woman with his cool, analytical façade; it was a face he recognized but couldn't identify. She was startled when the man's sharp gaze found [name] peeking behind her bedroom. "Zen'in, you've been hiding this the entire time?" As she welcomes him into the small flat, her mother's eyes narrow.

"Touche, like you would settle down for our sake if I stayed, Brucie," she remarks in a tone which seems almost sarcastic; she is annoyed enough to allow this man into their HER lives once again.

“[name] dearest come here would you? we have a guest coming.”

However, her mother's unpleasant tone shifted to one of compassion, as if she couldn't bear to vent her annoyance on her adorable young girl—never. her daughter nodded. Her small dress fluttered as she jogged a little to where her mother and the man were after [name] left her room at her mother's request (order). Like a leech clinging to its blood vessel, the girl stood near her mother. she saw him, Though she doesn't yet understand the language, she has seen the tall, famous man on television a few times, and her [color] eyes are adoring him attentively. Her mother left them alone while the older woman retrieved something from the back, leaving them awkwardly staring with shy, cute eyes. Bruce tried to strike up a conversation with the girl in the dress, but she only gave him confused and unsure answers. He realized that there was a language barrier between them and paused for a moment. He knows that her mother must have raised her in her mother tongue, Japanese, and possibly a few other languages from her stepfather's side, her papa's side.

When her mother finally comes back with the young child's bag, she leads them out of the small flat and into a luxurious suv. Let's say they go on a great adventure together. She still puts a barrier between herself and Bruce, but she still had fun even though the feeling was different without her papa by her side. When she returns after a run to retrieve a fallen flower from a nearby tree, the two are having an adult conversation.

"You have no idea, Megumi; there are tons of threats in my life. and I can't let the path I've picked put her life in harm. She's already lost.. Someone she cared about. Give it a second thought, Megumi.”

"It's safer with you rather than me; they're hunting me; they've got my husband. Bruce, and I won't let them get hold of my girl, not when I'm still breathing and still can fight."

“You can feel her loss, can you Bruce? If anything or anyone I trust to take care of my girl. I trust you and Pennyworth the most.”

As the voyage comes to a conclusion Night will arrive and they will head back to the SUV as the sunset turns everything orange. During the car drive back, [name]'s head hits the window, reminding her that it's not the way to her apartment but rather the notorious Wayne Manor. Puzzled by this, They all exited the SUV, and an elderly man was waiting for them. When he offered to take [name]'s bag, her mother let it, which made the young daughter feel awkwardly awkward. She pulled her mother's attire, and the mother lowered herself to her daughter's level.

“Listen to me [name]” Megumi started with a soft but firm approach, her soft hand finding its way to her daughter's chubby cheek, the familiar warmth soothing her worries. “From now on, you will refer to him as your Father, you will live with him as well as with mr. Pennyworth I want you to be on your best behavior while i.. sort things out with the bad people.” her tone is firm as she makes it sound to be. “You will be referred to as [name] Wayne. Do you understand?”

“...Father? but my father is only Papa. Mother are you.. leaving me here?”

After analyzing the connections, [name] concludes that their journey this morning was intended to be their final time together until they meet again. abandoning her in this large Manor with god knows who those people are. Bewildered and betrayed, she shook her head. Was what occurred three months ago the reason behind her mother's abandonment? Does she sees her as a burden?

“Nothing would ever be the same after this— everything would have changed after this, you must understand that we cannot meet again until I resolve the issues with those people. life as you know will be replaced with something else, but.. don't ever, ever give up”

“you will have a better life here, than i ever could give you now. be brave, [Name].”

Thus, knowing that it will be the last time, the mother strokes her daughter's head. As her mother stood up to be separated from her, the child's eyes started to fill with tears. Her tiny hand tries to get in touch with her mother in order to convince her to stay or simply take [name] with her.

“for a little while, you’ll be safe.”

and at that Megumi Zen’in disappear to the night, as well disappeared from [Name] Zen’in Wayne.

a/n: hellow! Greetings wherever you're I'm Mika, and this is the first batfam crossover fic i wrote personally sorry if there's an error or mistake regarding the lore cuz I'm still navigating at how to write in english to be honest and me forgotten some lore isn't any better too lmao

anyway english is not my first language as i state in warning don't expect something good huhu.

if you're wondering the story takes after the culling game/shibuya arc, after whatever ending Gege Akutami made up. ik that the Zen'in clan was massacred by Maki but i make an "what if" she didn't kill all of 'em? and don't mistake Megumi Zen'in as Fushiguro. They are a completely different person (obviously) they just had the same first name (my humor said it will be hilarious) and there will be major jjk spoiler but i'll try not to spoil as much

that's all for now!

next • previous

[radishaur]

Second Chance (Un-Ascended Astarion x Reader)

Warnings: minor spoilers for BG3 (takes place post-game)

Genre: fluff, slight angst, suggestive

Part: 1/1

Summary: A lot has changed since the fight to save Baldur's Gate, Astarion included.

Author’s Note: This fic has minor spoilers for BG3 but I tried to keep it vague enough that you could read it without majorly spoiling it. The "reader" in this situation is Tav from the game, but Tav is practically a self-insert so you get the jist. Not a Durge fic (yet). Also, this is with un-ascended Astarion. I apologize if this is OOC, I have such a hard time pinning down his mannerisms. This has been rotting in my drafts for way too long, so I just decided to hell with it, it needs to get posted. Lastly, I took some liberties with his backstory since it's slightly vague. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Happy reading!

The only thing lighting up the barren city roads as you made your way back to your room was the dying flicker of the sparsely placed lamp posts. Not even the moon itself was making an appearance, cloaked behind grey clouds so thick that not even a ray of her light could reach the street below. It was nothing you weren't used to as an adventurer. The job kept you out late by nature since most of the types you were after did their business well after the sun had set.

The dark of night wasn't what sent a shiver down your spine. No, rather it was the unmistakable feeling that someone was watching you. Your time adventuring had taught you to recognize that feeling quite well and there was no mistake: someone was following you. You ducked into the nearest side street to draw them out and readied yourself to attack if necessary.

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder was all you needed to react.

You shifted your weight forward and used the other person's clear surprise to throw them off balance and over your shoulder. They hit the ground with a thud and a groan and you crouched down and brought a knife to their throat before you even had time to register the set of all too familiar red eyes that were looking up at you.

When you finally looked down at who was beneath you, you felt sick. You would recognize that face anywhere, even upside down and in the dark. Hell, you think you would recognize him blind despite all the time that had passed since you'd seen him. He smirked, his fangs peeking out as he tsked.

"That's no way to greet an old friend, my sweet," he teased, still as confident as he ever was, even with a blade to his throat.

"Astarion," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't sound so shocked, darling. I told you I would come find you, didn't I?"

You didn't say anything, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. You thought about him quite often, but actually seeing him in person again was enough to send your mind spiraling down memory lane. From when you met, to your victory over the Absolute, to your bittersweet goodbye...

You were snapped back to reality by Astarion's voice once more, slightly softer as he spoke this time as if he saw the thoughts racing behind your eyes.

"Why don't you let me up," he said, despite the fact the grip on your knife had long since loosened, leaving him enough room to push his way up on his own should he have wished.

You swallowed thickly and stood up, stowing your knife back in its place before reaching a hand out for him to help himself up. He was already in the process by the time your hand was offered, but he took it anyway, using it to pull himself up to full height in front of you.

For all the time that had passed, he looked exactly the same. His skin was still milky white, his hair still curled around his pointed ears just so, and his eyes still found a way to look straight through you and into your soul. The faint light of the street lamps made him look ethereal, otherworldly even, as he stood in front of you.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, an air of disbelief in your voice as you regarded him.

"Don't tell me you forgot about our conversation," he said, a slight tease in his voice masking the very obvious concern.

And oh, what a stupid question that was, because how could you ever forget it?

"Hello darling. I was just thinking about freedom. How I'm free of the parasite - free of Cazador. How I'll never be in someone's power again And all it cost was my life in the sun. Now I belong to the shadows," he had said, gesturing his arms out to reference the dark of night around the both of you.

"What are you going to do? What's next?" you had asked.

He paused, thinking for a moment.

"I...I don't know," he admitted, taking a moment of silence to think before saying, "I've never been able to decide for myself."

"Now is as good a time as any to start," you had joked, hoping it would lighten the mood a bit before saying, "Let's celebrate our victory tonight properly. You can tell me what adventure we'll set out on then."

The night carried on, with all of your companions around the fire, telling stories and drinking together, happier than ever and without a care in the world. Later on in the night, the two of you snuck off together, just like you had in the early days of your traveling together. It had filled you with nostalgia and you told him as much as you laid next to him, staring up at the stars.

"We have come quite far together, haven't we," he said, although his voice had sounded miles away.

"What's wrong?" you had asked, shifting so your head was propped up and you were on your side to face him.

He didn't say anything for a long time, simply looking up at the stars with a frown. All you wanted to do was kiss away the wrinkles that furrowed his brows until he would smile once more, but you resisted, letting him have a moment to collect his thoughts.

"When I was Cazador's beloved spawn," he started, spitting out Cazador's name venomously like he always had, "I had no control over myself. I spent 200 years doing whatever he told me and paying the price the few times I didn't."

You nodded. This was obviously nothing new to you, but you also knew he wouldn't be saying it again if it didn't matter, so you stayed silent, encouraging him to continue.

"And then when I was finally free of him and had some level of control, I just reverted back to my instinct. I manipulated you for my own gain. Nothing had changed." he said, frustration evident in his voice as he said, "I don't even remember anything before Cazador. Not a damned thing. Only his stories of what happened."

"That must be difficult," you replied softly.

He didn't say anything to that, but he did finally turn to face you and even without the tadpole's connection you could still feel his emotions so clearly. The inner turmoil was written so plainly on him that you wondered how he had ever seemed like a mystery to you instead of an open book.

"My point is that I have no idea who I really am. I've always been following someone else's orders, someone else's plans. Even here, with all of you," he said, sighing before adding, "I don't know what kind of person I really am, without following the moral compass of everyone around me. I've only ever known orders."

You stayed silent for a few moments before deciding to ask, "Have you decided what you want to do after this? That might be a place to start."

"I want to go to the Underdark first. I can't just let my brothers and sisters wander aimlessly. Then maybe I'll come back here. Try and find clues of what my life looked like before... everything," he answered.

"Then we'll leave tomorrow. After it gets dark," you said with a smile before yawning, the adventures of the day finally catching up on you.

You missed the way his expression broke just slightly as your eyes scrunched up during your yawn. Whatever he had meant to tell you had died on his tongue and he simply kissed you, a little deeper than he ever had before, and let you fall asleep in his arms.

When you had woken up, you were in your tent instead of out in the grass. You had smiled at the image of Astarion carrying you there in the dead of night to tuck you in and made your way to his tent to thank him, only to find it missing. In its place was a small box and a sealed letter with your name scrawled out in a posh-looking cursive.

He had left in the middle of the night. Packed up his tent and left nothing behind except his last parting gift to you. You didn't open the box, still hadn't all these years later. You simply unsealed the letter with shaking hands and read the whole thing 3 times over. He apologized for leaving without saying anything to you but said he needed to learn how to be his own person before he was truly with another. He thanked you for everything you had done for him over your time together before promising to return and find you when he had figured everything out. He said that when he came back, he would be yours in every way you would take him, should you still want him.

He signed the letter with Your love, Astarion and that was the last you heard from him.

Your face soured as it all came rushing back to you in full force. You scowled at him, all your previous excitement that he had returned disappearing much like he had. Old wounds ached as if they were brand new.

"I would hardly call a letter left in the dead of night a conversation," you retorted, snatching the hand that you had forgotten was still holding his back to you.

His lips pulled into a small smile, lifting up at the corner, but his eyes saddened in contrast. You clenched your fists and looked away from him, needing a moment to collect your thoughts.

"No, I suppose you're right," he said, shuffling on his feet slightly before adding, "You have every right to be upset."

Your eyes whipped to him and the dam holding back your anger broke.

"Upset?" you asked, the venom in your voice causing him to startle slightly, "Upset doesn't even begin to cover it, Astarion."

You took a deep breath to steel yourself, to keep yourself from shouting at him in the middle of the dark alleyway.

"You left me in the middle of the night after everything we went through together. You took me to your grave and told me you didn't want to lose what we had and then you left," you said, your throat getting tighter and tighter with each word, "You let me believe I was coming with you and let me make a complete fool of myself. All I had left of you was some letter and a stupid box."

You shifted on your feet slightly as you thought about that exact box, tucked away in your dresser underneath all your clothes. It sat, unopened, atop the letter that had ripped your whole world apart. You looked back up at him, trying to gauge any kind of reaction from him as you said, your voice cracking despite it being no louder than a whisper, "It's been 3 years."

He kept quiet while you composed yourself for what was the third time that night and then took a tentative step forward. When you didn't move back, he took another and then another until he was right in front of you. His left hand went to yours and his right hand cupped your face gently, his expression suspiciously calm but his eyes were a swirling mix of different emotions.

You felt your heart rate accelerate at the proximity and you cursed yourself for still loving him after leaving so long ago without a word. With all your anger released you were left only with the profound longing to be with him, to touch him, kiss him, hold him close. Every detail you had memorized about his face was even more striking in person than you remember and hearing his voice again after so long...

"I know. There's no amount of apologies I could make that would undo that mistake, although I am deeply sorry. I was afraid to be honest with you and it made me a coward," he said, taking a deep breath as he pulled away slightly, letting his hand drop from your face, "You asked me why I'm here and I didn't answer you fully."

You didn't move even a single inch, worried that any movement would scare him away.

"I'm here....," he took another deep breath to steady his nerves before he continued, "I'm here because I love you. I thought about you every day these past 3 years and there's nothing more I want than to be with you. I want to apologize to you for how I handled things and if you do still feel the same way, I want to spend the rest of my immortal life proving that to you."

His eyes were open, bearing everything he was feeling for you to read. You saw his sincerity and his feelings plain as day. Your heart constricted as you thought about your next words.

"I...Astarion...," you stumbled over your words, trying to get your heart and your head to align as they both asked for different things.

"Give me a chance to explain and properly apologize. After that, if you never wish to see me again, then," he paused, trailing off before finishing, "I'll disappear into the night once more for good this time."

You hesitated, taking a moment to let your feelings settle. The swirling mix of anger, despair, and intense longing slowed the longer you looked at him, and left behind was only the feeling of anxious uncertainty.

You saw his eyes searching your face for a sign as the silence continued to drag out, but he didn't say anything. Didn't even make a move, once again letting you decide as he simply waited. You swallowed, thick as it stuck in your throat. This was the same man you knew from so long ago and yet he was so different. His time alone had no doubt changed him, but was that enough?

Before either of you had a chance to say anything more, footsteps echoed out in the street and you heard someone shout, "Hey! Who's there?"

Your eyes snapped from the direction of the voice back to Astarion and you knew that both of you would need to leave immediately if you didn't want to be caught. Regardless of your feelings towards him, you knew that a vampire being caught out at night would lead to nothing good and you didn't want anything bad to happen to him. He seemed to understand that as well as his face morphed into the more guarded expression you were used to seeing.

"If you decide to give me a chance, meet me at the town's overlook tomorrow night at 10 pm," he said, his voice low before he kissed your left hand and then disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway.

You weren't far behind, slipping into the shadows and making your way back to your room. You tossed and turned all night, the anxiety of tomorrow night and your impending decision looming over your conscience until you could finally get some sleep.

Despite having faced some of the worst horrors that Faerun had to offer, Astarion was pretty sure he had never been so nervous.

He exhaled to try and release some of his anxiety before stepping back to look at the setup he had laid out. He had placed a few thick, woven blankets on the ground to cushion against the hard dirt floor with a fuzzy, fur blanket on top. Off to the side, he put a magic phonograph programmed with the music he had curated for the evening, and right in the middle of the blanket was a tray filled with more fruits and cheeses than one could possibly eat.

He looked out over the cliff and down to the city, illuminated in the soft yellow light of the street lamps now that it was finally nighttime. The moon was peeking out through the clouds and a slight breeze was blowing the hair around his face and the leaves in the trees. For all intents and purposes, he had picked a perfect night.

There was still a good amount of time before you were supposed to arrive, so he simply leaned against the tree that was shading the blanket setup and waited anxiously.

He found himself watching the town below and reminiscing about his time with you. There was no guarantee that you would show up tonight, but there had never been any guarantees in your time together. With everything happening, there was never the promise of even the next day, yet you always came back. Chose him over any others and went out of your way to support him.

He spent more time than he liked to admit wondering if he had made the right decision in leaving. He knew that learning more about himself was something he needed to do, but he missed you more than he had anticipated. He knew that he loved you, but he had underestimated how that would affect him now that he wasn't around you all the time. You followed him like a ghost. He saw you in every face, heard you in every laugh, and taunted him in every kind action he witnessed.

After a while, he could admit that his fear drove him away in a harmful way. Afraid of his love for you and of what potentially dark secrets awaited him in his past, he ran. The more time he spent apart from you, the more he wondered if you had really loved him. The small part of his brain that whispered cruel nothings to him told him that you could never love him, not like he loved you at least. There was a chance that your connection to him was born purely from circumstance. Now, with no parasite connecting you and no shared goal to live, you might not feel the same.

He almost hadn't returned, but his guilt over how he left you and the regret he knew he would feel if he never tried to ask for forgiveness convinced him. Your reaction to seeing him had quelled some of his doubts. Maybe you weren't connected by the tadpole anymore, but your eyes betrayed your feelings just like they always had. There was a swirl of emotions there, battling for dominance, but he knew that somewhere in there amongst that conflict were the remnants of what he had broken. That bond built on love and sacrifice that brought him back from the dark path he was walking on before he met you.

He was brought back from his thoughts by a particularly cold gust of wind. He bit his lip slightly as he tried once more to calm his nerves. There was nothing for him to do but hope that you still loved him enough to try one last time.

The walk to the lookout was quiet. Fall had finally come after months of intense heat and the light cool breeze rustling your hair and nipping at your face was nice. Other than the sound of rustling leaves and your footsteps on the cobbled path, it was just you and your thoughts.

It would be easy to lie to yourself and insist that you had thought long and hard about whether to meet Astarion, but deep down you already had your answer from the moment he asked. So many years apart and he still had a hold on you.

Eventually, the cobble path turned to dirt and you found yourself hiking up the hill, your heart pumping from more than just the exercise. You were anxious to hear what he had to say but more than that you were worried about the next step. You loved him still, that much was undeniable, but you didn't trust him. That was something that would take a long time to build back up if it was even possible, and you wondered if things could really go back to how they were before.

Finally, you reached the top of the hill and the path flattened out. After walking further down the path, it began to open up and you found yourself breathless at the sight in front of you. Your eyes roamed over the blankets, food, and atmosphere that was laid out underneath the tree, each item placed with care. The breeze was rustling the tree leaves, causing a few leaves to fall here and there down on the blanket. Then, your eyes caught on Astarion. He wasn't facing you, his back towards you as he looked out over the town and you found that even from here he looked beautiful.

His clothes were similar to what he used to wear around camp, but they were made of much finer materials. His shirt was still frilly and the neckline still plunged down, but it seemed to be made of silk and the threads shimmered slightly in the moonlight, and his pants seemed to be a lot thicker material even though they were still black. If you didn't know better you would say that nothing about him had changed, but you knew that wasn't true. His hair which you knew from experience was always tamed was ruffling slightly in the wind.

If you were a painter, the scene in front of you would have been your masterpiece.

After a few moment, he must have felt someone staring because he turned his head slightly to face you. His lips pulled slightly at the corner into a smirk as he spoke.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Perhaps."

Your throat went dry as you looked at him more. His eyes looked you over and you were suddenly reminded that you were severely underdressed compared to him. You hadn't known what to expect, but fancy had not been on the list, so you'd simply worn some of your casual clothes and headed out. Despite that, his gaze still lingered and his smirk melted into a smile. When his eyes met yours, there was a fondness there that made your heartache.

He pushed himself off the tree and walked over to you where your feet were cemented on the dirt. When he was finally standing in front of you, you were relieved to see that he seemed just as nervous as you were. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly and reached for your hand. You let him take it, your mind racing too fast to object even if you had wanted to.

"I'm glad you came," he said, pulling your hand up to place a small kiss onto your hand. "I... wasn't sure you would. You'd have every right not to."

"I needed to come. No matter what happens, I... we deserve the closure," you said, your voice quiet but firm.

He nodded, the gesture slightly stiff as the reminder of what tonight could possibly bring hung between the two of you. Still holding your hand, he stepped to the side and gestured with his free hand to the blankets. "Let's catch up and then we can talk."

You gave him your own nod and followed him to the blankets. The closer you got, the more you saw of the view and oh it was lovely. The flickering light of the candles Astarion had laid out around the blanket mixed with the lantern light of the city below, casting everything in a warm glow. It was high enough that you could talk uninterrupted but close enough that the faint noise of the bars and late-nighters could be heard.

Suddenly, you heard music and turned to see that Astarion had started the music machine which was playing some light romantic music. He turned it down so that it didn't overpower your soon-to-be-had conversation and motioned for you to join him on the blankets.

"So," he said as you sat down beside him, "What have you been up to since I've been gone."

Despite how you were still upset with him, your conversation flowed freely. You told him of your job as an adventurer, how you met occasionally with Shadowheart, Halsin, and some of the other members of your group who were still in Bauldur's Gate or nearby, and other stories to fill in the gaps since you had last seen him. In turn, he shared his story with you.

He'd spent the first few months away getting the spawn under control and settled in the Underdark, which had been a task in and of itself. While he was there, he began to adjust once again to life in the shadows. After a while, he set out to do what he originally wanted to do: learn about his past. He knew vaguely about his life before Cazador, just bits and pieces that Cazador had thrown his way when he was "behaving", but now he had a much larger picture.

He had hoped to find his parents alive and well, but unfortunately for him, that was not the case. Cut down not unlike him, his parents were long dead. Whether it was connected to his decision as a magistrate that got him killed was unclear, but it stung all the same. He searched record after record and finally found something that led him to a vacation house not far out of Bauldur's Gate. It was beaten and not well taken care of, but it held more than he could have imagined about his life before Cazador. Pictures, journals, notes, and records stuffed the house and he had combed through them all meticulously. That, combined with the legal records he had been able to get his hands on, painted a clearer picture of who he used to be.

He shared it all with you, promising to take you there and show you some of the pictures himself, should you let him. You talked for hours and barely noticed the hum of the city die down as the night progressed. In all honesty, it was easy to forget why you were here in the first place. The pain and betrayal faded into the background as you talked and you found yourself relaxing more and more. Eventually, he had finished sharing everything and the silence that followed was peaceful.

After hearing him talk, it was clear that he had changed a lot on his journey. The Astarion that once hid between a mask of seduction and good looks was gone, replaced by a man who was much more confident and sure of himself. He was still a flirty, cocky bastard, but he was more genuine. He wasn't afraid anymore. He had gone out into the world and figured out exactly who he used to be and was standing on the other end of it more sure of who he wanted to be in the future. As much as his departure still hurt, you couldn't help but be happy that he seemed so much happier.

The song changing broke you out of your thoughts and you saw Astarion watching you from the corner of your vision. When you turned to meet his gaze, you felt some of the air around you thicken with tension. Astarion must have noticed the shift as well because he stood up and held a hand out for you to take.

"Dance with me," he said, his voice hopeful as he added in a slightly more teasing tone, "I can show off those dance lessons my dear parents paid for."

The reference to his previous story of his upbringing made you laugh and you took his hand as he pulled you up to your feet. "Let's hope they stuck."

He led you to the side of the blankets, close enough to the outlook that you could still see the city and the ocean, but not so close that either of you would fall. He carefully positioned your hands and then his own before moving slowly into a dance. The two of you swayed to the sound of the music, making it easy for you to follow him. Aside from a few fancy moves spinning you around, he mostly just held you close to him. His grip was firm but soft, as if you were something precious to him.

"This reminds me of our first night together," you said, referring to the first night you had spent alone with him.

His mouth quirked up at the comment, clearly amused by the comparison. "I suppose it does."

"It's...," you trailed off, struggling to find the right words to explain it. You met his eyes and settled on, "It's beautiful. Who knew you were such a romantic."

"Only for you, darling."

He held your gaze, his tone devoid of any teasing and it made your heart skip a beat. His thumb rubbed a soothing pattern into your hip as you continued to sway, your eyes never leaving his. He was silent for a long time, neither one of you wanting to break the moment, but eventually, he spoke.

"As much as I'd like to just stay here and enjoy the evening, that wouldn't be fair to you. I owe you a true explanation and an apology."

You stilled slightly, his words reminding you once again why you were here tonight. You nodded at him to indicate that you were ready and continued to dance with him.

"That night, when you were asking me about the future, I began to panic. I told you that night in the graveyard that I wanted something real with you and I meant it, but... I got scared. I kept thinking about how much I never knew about my past and how little I knew about myself now that I was free and it ate away at me. It dawned on me that there was a very real possibility that you would learn the truth about what I was like before Cazador or that being free of the tadpole would change how you saw me and that you would leave. I was terrified of losing you and I let myself slip back into old habits as a result. Hurt them before they can hurt you, and all that."

As he spoke, his eyes clouded over and his grip on you tightened slightly, his stress shining clear as day on his face. You shifted your hand out of his, resting your arms around his neck. He let his other hand grab your waist to match the other and you let yourself play with the hair brushing against the nape of his neck as he continued.

"I'm glad that I left on my own because I needed to learn how to live now that I was free. I have no memories of almost anything before Cazador, so my whole life felt like it was lived being controlled, first by Cazador and then by the Absolute. I loved you and I... I still love you," he said, voice wavering slightly at the admission of his feelings, "But, I needed to learn how to just be. Being in a relationship with you, wasn't like being controlled, but I needed to learn how to be myself. It was something I needed and I'm glad that I can say I know who I am now, but I shouldn't have left the way I did. I should have come to you about it, but I let myself fall back to how I used to act instead."

He stopped dancing then, pulling you closer with one arm and letting the other come up to brush against your throat before cupping your face. The gentleness of his touch made you shiver slightly and his grip on your waist tightened once more.

"I'm sorry, for leaving you in the middle of the night without a word. It will be one of my life's biggest regrets. I thought about you every day that I was gone and I still feel the same about you as the day I left. If you let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I'm yours in every way that you'll take me, should you still want me."

His last line quoting the letter broke the last of your resolve as you leaned into his touch, your eyes watering as you finally spoke.

"You're an asshole. I'm glad that you're happy, but I hate that you told me you loved me and then left in the middle of the night. I hate that you made me wait here for so long without another word from you. I hate that you sauntered so easily back into my life with that stupid, smug smirk. But mostly, I hate that despite all of that I still love you," you said, your voice wavering as tears finally spilled down your face, "I love you just as much as I did before and nothing can change that. Not even you."

You hadn't realized as you were talking just how close to him you had gotten, your hands fisted into his shirt and his hair, but now it was clear as day, even with your eyes clouded by tears. You didn't have time to react before you felt him lean down and slot his lips against yours. His kiss was firm and filled with so much passion and you met him with a fierce determination of your own. Your lips fell into a familiar rhythm, almost as if it hadn't been years since the two of you had done this.

He pulled away slightly, murmuring I love you's against your skin as he kissed his way from your lips to your cheeks, the gentle press of his lips kissing the tears away. It was too much and yet not enough all at once. You clung to him like a lifeline as he met your lips once more, his kiss like a breath of fresh air as you were drowning at sea. You didn't know when he had picked you up and moved you onto the blanket, but suddenly you were on his lap underneath the tree once more.

His touch was like fire, burning everything it touched and you wanted more. You wanted it all and he was more than happy to oblige. The world around the two of you faded into nothing as he gave you everything, skin to skin, heart to burning heart.

Later, as the two of you lay under the stars and blankets pressed up against each other, he pulled a box out from its hiding spot amongst the blankets. You shifted slightly, pulling the blankets with you as he sat up with the box now in hand. It only took a few moments for you to recognize what it was.

"How did you get that?" you asked, confusion evident. "That's been tucked into my dresser for years."

"You wound me, darling. A man of my talents can steal anything with enough time and resources."

You felt a lump grow in your throat as you looked at the box. You would recognize that box anywhere, its image haunting you in your nightmares about that day. You never had the courage to open it after reading the letter Astarion had left and that same trepidation came back in full as it stared back at you now.

"Admittedly, I was hopeful about how tonight would go. I knew there was a chance you hadn't opened it, so I grabbed it from your room before you came back for the day," he explained, the hand next to yours on the ground brushing against it in reassurance.

He repositioned slightly and opened the box. The inside of it was a plush red velvet and nestled right in the middle, a ring. Not a wedding ring or even anything incredibly fancy, but a ring nonetheless. It was polished steel with three small gems embedded in the middle. Their colors danced in the light and you found yourself reaching out to touch it.

"What...," you said, your voice failing you for the millionth time that night.

"Consider it a promise," he supplied, his voice quiet as he plucked the ring out of the box and guided it onto one of your fingers. "I want something real with you. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."

You had both changed significantly in your time apart. Astarion had broken your trust and it would be a long time before it would fully come back. You knew things could never go back to how they were before, but maybe that was ok. Maybe you both weren't the same people you used to be, but you were both learning, both trying to be better, trying to navigate life after the Absolute, trying to live. Maybe that trust was broken, but that broken bond could come back stronger. There was no doubt in your mind as you kissed him once again, murmuring against his lips.

"Here's to forever, then."

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful! 

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 7

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader)Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 5017 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

T-minus 1 day until Echidna's War.

'All right, everyone!' Y/N called out to the group, forcing them to stop sparring in their pairs and look at her. 'That's enough for today. Go, shower and get ready for our feast. You deserve to enjoy this night before tomorrow.'

'Yes, Princess!' the warriors said in unison, then quickly dispersed, leaving the training grounds to head back into the city to prepare for tomorrow.

'You should get ready too, Princess,' Calliope said, looking after her sisters-in-arms chatting and walking down the stairs to their homes. Y/N's heart pulled at the thought that she'd never see such happy smiles again after tonight.

'In a moment, Calliope,' Y/N answered, looking around the remaining groups that were finishing up their drills. Her gaze fell on one particular acrobat who was teaching the group blocking techniques and some acrobatic manoeuvres to avoid an opponent. All the while doing so, Dick was smiling, encouraging the women to keep trying.

'He's not too bad,' Calliope said with amusement. 'For a mortal man, that is.'

Y/N turned to Calliope only to see a knowing smile on her friend's face. Only then did Y/N realise she was smiling stupidly wide, and made quick work to get rid of it. 'I guess so. But he's stupidly naive and impulsive. He'll get himself killed because of it.'

'Maybe,' Calliope said thoughtfully as she looked back at Dick for a moment before facing Y/N again. 'But isn't that how a true warrior should die? In battle fighting for what's right?'

Y/N didn't like the thought of Dick being clawed open or beheaded by monsters, so she quickly said, 'It's not his battle to fight in, though. He shouldn't be here.'

'But he is, Y/N,' Calliope insisted, coming to stand in front of Y/N so she had no choice but to make eye contact. 'And that's what makes him even braver. He's here helping us save our home; a home he had never seen until a few days ago; a home that has no connection to him whatsoever but he is here trying to save it.'

Before Y/N could protest, Calliope gripped Y/N's hands in a manner that was desperate and insistent. 'You should tell him. Before it's too late.'

Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion. 'What are you-'

'Oh, don't play dumb with me,' Calliope interrupted. 'I see how you look at him. You're worried about him. Which means you care, despite everything you say to convince us otherwise.'

Y/N went to deny it but couldn't find the words to do so. Her heart was being torn in so many different directions any time she thought about Dick, she didn't know what exactly she felt for him. It was hard to put into words what he meant to her, the good and the bad.

When she remained silent, Calliope patted Y/N's hands gently then dropped them as she too walked away, leaving Y/N standing frozen in a battle with her head and her heart.

Y/N could've been standing there for one minute or an hour for all she knew, until someone waved their hand in front of her face and broke her from her trance.

'Y/N,' Dick said, his brows furrowed in concern. 'You okay?'

Y/N took a deep breath in as she came back to the moment. 'Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just...'

'Worried?' Dick offered, and Y/N was grateful for the change in subject. 'Well, I wouldn't be if I were you. These women are stronger than some of the heroes back home.'

Y/N raised a playful eyebrow. 'Only some?'

Dick chuckled. 'Okay, all of them.'

The two shared a quiet laugh, and it brought Y/N a sense of normalcy and nostalgia that warmed her heart.

She looked around as the remaining warriors finished their trainings and made to leave for their homes. Y/N could almost name each and every one of them, and there was the possibility that after tomorrow she would never see them again.

'Echidna is the one who should be worried,' Y/N said, her voice slightly shaky with anger and determination. She knew that if death were to come tomorrow, Y/N wouldn't be able to save them all. But she'd be damned if she didn't try to.

A warm calloused hand tentatively enclosed her fist, and the touch was enough to cease Y/N's shakes. 'I agree,' Dick said, two simple words seemingly echoing around the quiet training ground. His smile was smooth but genuine and Y/N could've believed they were eighteen again and back on the mainland and with the team. Back when his smile eased all her problems, back when Wally and all their lost friends weren't gone. Back when it was just them, and everything in Y/N's world made sense.

But now Y/N felt like she was on another planet, and they were about to go to war with the Mother of Monsters and nothing made sense anymore.

Y/N slowly pulled her had away from Dick's and cleared her throat as she stared straight ahead. 'We should probably get ready for the feast. Could be the last one we have in a while.' Or ever, she wanted to add, but Dick was an optimist and would ridicule her for thinking such thoughts and she really didn't want to keep talking with him.

'That's right,' Dick said, eyes brightening up at the thought of food. 'I bet you guys put on the best meals, as well.'

Y/N just rolled her eyes as they made their way across the training grounds to the stairs that would lead them back into town. 'A true boy. Only ever thinking about food.'

'A true girl. Turning every compliment into an insult.'

Y/N shoved him and he shoved her back and the two couldn't hold back radiant smiles. It astounded Y/N how easily they fell back into old habits. How familiar and safe Dick was.

'You should tell him. Before it's too late.'

Tell him what exactly? Y/N could hardly discern what mixture of emotions was running through her, let alone wheedle down to a specific point what her true feelings were for Dick. She'd been upset for so long, then angry at him. But the past three days he'd shown himself to be the Dick she'd always known and come to love. Kind, brave, funny, strong, compassionate.

It all lead her to a very confusing fork in the metaphorical road of her heart.

Even so, there was something she felt for him...

Just as Dick took a step down the stairs, Y/N found herself reaching out to him this time, bringing him to a stop with her soft grip on his shoulder. 'Wait.'

Dick looked over his shoulder immediately, his piercing blue eyes glued onto her with curiosity and wonder. 'Yeah?' he asked.

Y/N took in a deep breath, calming her racing heart as she said, 'I'm sorry.' When Dick only frowned with confusion, she elaborated. 'I'm sorry for doubting you. For being... well, I haven't been the most welcoming of people have I?'

Dick didn't say a word, but he turned fully around to face her, his face as serious as it was the other night on another staircase. Y/N's hand dropped to her side, and she found she could not look away from Dick's eyes as the words started falling out.

'I guess... I just didn't think you cared about us anymore,' she said. 'About the team, about me. And it made me so angry, but then you came to the one place I thought I could finally find peace again and I just couldn't accept that you were here for me. But I see now I was wrong.'

'No, I was the one who was wrong,' Dick said with a shake of his head. 'You had every right to be angry with me, in fact you still do. You were right, I was ignorant and only thought of my pain in those years I was away. I didn't think how coming here would affect you after everything I've done.'

Dick returned to the landing, now towering over Y/N, and took her hands in his and said in a gentle voice, 'I know I am far from forgiven, but I promise you, I will spend whatever time I have left on this earth trying to make it up to you.'

Y/N could hardly breathe with the way Dick was looking at her. It was almost dream-like, and suddenly all of her teenage emotions came rushing back into her bloodstream. The adoration, the awe, the love - it had remained all this time, she'd just repressed it in her time of pain and loss.

And it could've just been her, but something flickered briefly across Dick's face - the slightest arch of his brows, the minuscule twitch of his mouth. An emotion Y/N had no time to discern before Dick was the one stepping back and resuming his journey down the stairs, a careless smile on his face like the moment never happened.

'The showers await us, Princess,' he jested as he waved her after him. 'Wouldn't want to be late for the feast!'

Y/N stared after him for a moment, trying to process what just happened. He was serious, he would do anything to make it all up to her. And that look on his face...

Y/N shook herself out of her imagination. Probably just seeing things, she told herself as she followed Dick down the stairs. She wouldn't get her hopes up again.

Not for Dick Grayson of all people.

~~~

When Dick Grayson arrived back at his room, he drew himself a bath and allowed himself to relax if only for a few minutes. The first night in his room he'd been affronted to find a group of women ready to bathe him like a child. He'd argued with Y/N about them, her saying it was their tradition and all. Eventually she caved and dismissed the women from his room. He laughed at the memory, thinking beneath his own anger that she looked cute riled up.

There it was again - the thoughts he had never thought before.

He couldn't deny Y/N had grown into a beautiful young woman, one who stood by her values and always fought for the right thing. She'd stuck by the team when he couldn't, and for that he would always admire her.

But then again he had always admired her. That's part of the reason she was his best friend. She was this strong and loving individual that had always stuck by him and the others. She had the most infectious smile, and her laughter was like music-

Dick bolted upright in the bath, his heart racing at a million miles per hour as an alarming thought entered his mind. Do I like Y/N?

Well, it wasn't a matter of like. Of course he liked her, she was his best friend after all. But they'd never... she'd never implied...

He recalled when they were younger how many people - including their parents - said that he and Y/N would end up together. They were each other's better half, and honestly part of the reason he ended up breaking up with each and every one of his past girlfriends. Because they couldn't see how important Y/N was to him.

That didn't mean he liked her like that... did he?

Dick splashed his face one last time before leaping out of the bath to get ready for the feast. Maybe all the training he was doing was making him tired and delusional. After all, even if he truly felt that way for her, she'd never feel the same. Maybe once - though there was no telling so - but certainly not now.

However, they'd had a moment on the stairs this afternoon, and something felt... different. The way she looked at him had sent his gut rolling with something akin to a roller coaster, and the vision of her hair in the golden rays of sun had taken his breath away completely. Dick couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that way - completely and utterly entranced.

Dick dressed himself in the only set of clothes he'd come in and opened his door to find Calliope and other guards standing in the corridor.

'We are to escort you down to the feast, Mr. Grayson,' Calliope explained. 'By order of the Queen herself. You will be seated at their table tonight.'

Dick found this surprising as he usually sat with the soldiers of the group he'd trained that day, getting to know them and laughing with them. But he was to sit at the royals table, which consisted of Queen Hippolyta, some generals, and Y/N.

When they entered the dining hall, the feast had pretty much begun as hundreds and hundreds of women were already seated at long tables that ran almost from the door to the dais where the Queen sat chatting with other generals at their own long table. Dick made sure to greet any woman he knew as he was guided up to the royals' table.

'So nice of you to join us, Mr. Grayson,' the Queen said as Dick was seated.

'The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty,' he replied politely, then noted the empty chair between him and the Queen. 'Is Y/N not down yet?'

'She is usually late to these sorts of things,' the Queen replied defeatedly. 'She always fights with the maidens about her hair and dress. In that respect, she is very much her mother.'

As Queen Hippolyta turned back to the speak with the generals, a quiet voice leant in behind him and quietly said, 'Eager to see the princess are we?'

'W-What?' Dick exclaimed to Calliope. 'No, I'm not. I just... I'm just making conversation, that's all.'

'Whatever you say, mortal,' Calliope teased, her smile knowing and irritating as she remained by Dick's head.

He turned to her, annoyed. 'What do you mean by that?'

Calliope just shrugged. 'Nothing nobody doesn't already know.' When Dick just stared blankly at her, she rolled her eyes and said, 'You cannot tell me you do not feel for our princess. Do you not?'

It was like she was reading his mind or something. It was a little freaky and off-putting. But Dick was used to off-putting questions - journalists used them all the time on him when Dick did press interviews with Bruce.

So he calmly sat in his chair and looked out to the busy hall in front of him. 'Well, I still have the bruises from our first sparring match when I first got here so I guess I do feel something because of the princess.'

Calliope chuckled and shook her head. 'Avoid the question all you want, mortal. But Truth always has an interesting way of making itself known.'

Dick didn't like her know-it-all tone, and so finally turned around and said in a quiet but hard tone. 'My relationship with Y/N isn't up for debate here. She is my best friend, and the only thing I'm interested in is restoring her trust in me and saving your island.'

'How noble...' Calliope started, but her attention turned to the opening of the hall's doors and so Dick's eyes followed. He was struck still at the vision he was met with.

It was Y/N, draped in a flattering arrangement of white cloth that was synched at her waist with a golden chain. Her H/C hair had been put up in a loose bun, held together by golden pins. Plain sandals covered her feet as she made her way towards the dais, the many bracelets and arm bands adorning her arms flashing golden in the firelight.

Dick knew he was gaping, but he couldn't help it. No one could it seemed, as Y/N greeted many women along the way, and whispers of her beauty echoed throughout the hall. When she drew closer, her eyes connected with Dick's, and instead of the cold or distant expression she'd given him since day one, she offered him an embarrassed smile.

That brief interaction sent his heart in motion. It reminded him of the time they had gone to prom in their junior year of school. It had been the first time Dick had seen Y/N with makeup and in a dress. She'd given him the same embarrassed look, and he had been just as transfixed.

Dick felt someone lean in to his ear as he continued to watch Y/N make her way to the dais. 'But are you sure there is no other reason that you are here?' Calliope finished with a whisper.

She stepped back into her position before Dick could respond, not that he knew what he would say anyway. His gut was rolling so much with indecision that he thought he might throw up.

He was brought out of his thoughts as Y/N took her seat between him and the Queen. 'Grandmother,' she greeted coolly.

'Y/N,' the Queen responded, a kind smile stretching her lips. 'You look beautiful, my dear.'

'Thank you, but I still do not understand why I must wear this to every feast we have,' Y/N argued.

'It is tradition, and you are Themyscria's princess,' the Queen explained, tapping her granddaughter's hand in comfort before returning to her previous conversation.

Y/N sighed in mild defeat as she sat back in her chair. After a moment, she clocked that Dick was looking at her and sighed again. 'Not a single word from you, Grayson.'

'I wasn't going to say anything!' Dick retorted, quickly collecting himself.

'I can see it in your eyes that you're going to laugh at me.'

It took Dick a moment to realise she wasn't joking. She fidgeted with the loose cloth that draped over her body, eyes flickering from him to the crowd and back. She genuinely thought she looked ridiculous. If he was sixteen still, maybe he would've made a comment or two.

But sixteen was a long time ago now.

'No, I wasn't,' he said, and his answer must've surprised him as she turned to him with a perplexed expression on her face. 'You look... You look beautiful, Y/N.'

Y/N's E/C eyes scanned over his face, possibly searching for any kind of lie or detection of amusement. But she obviously didn't find anything, as she smiled at him, her eyes shining with surprise. 'Thank you. I would offer you the same compliment, but you've looked the same as you did the day you got here.'

'Ruggedly handsome?'

'Hmm, I'd say a bit worse for wear.'

Dick let out a painful groan as he slapped a hand across his chest where his heart was encased under. 'Wow! Way to wound a guy.'

Y/N just laughed, and Dick joined her, genuinely happy to see her smiling as they used to together. Once the laughter died, he said, 'But seriously, Y/N, you look great. And... I'm just glad you're not calling me Nightwing anymore.'

'Well,' Y/N started, fiddling with one of her bracelets, 'I figured you deserved that much after all your help.'

Help. That's right. He was helping her save her new home and new family. It wasn't because she'd forgiven him and were suddenly best friends again.

'I'm sorry to interrupt,' a young girl said, coming to stand on the other side of the table. 'But I just had something to discuss with you, Princess.'

'Of course,' Y/N answered, turning all her attention to the girl. 'Go ahead.'

Throughout dinner, Y/N was kept busy by other conversations with warriors and young girls and teachers alike that all had questions for their princess. Y/N answered every single one of their queries with enthusiasm and grace, not batting an eye as she ate and spoke and listened.

She was a natural and a pro. The whole time she spoke, Dick couldn't help but think about the two years he'd been gone for and how many times Y/N had to soothe a fear, had to deliver a confident speech that would encourage the team to keep going no matter how bleak the future seemed.

It saddened and pained him to think he'd forced that responsibility onto her in his absence. But she'd done it, held the team together and she was doing that right now as well for her people.

Upon the conclusion of dinner, the Queen called for silence as she rose to address the hall. 'Evening everyone,' she started, her voice radiating composure and control. 'Tonight, we are in the presence of our own history in the making. Tomorrow, we face Echidna, the Mother of Monsters.'

The mention of the goddess sent whispers of fear rattling throughout the crowd, but they were quickly silenced by the raise of the Queen's hand. 'I know some of you, if not all of you, are fearful of the coming events. Echidna is a foe that will not be so easily defeated. However, this is what we have trained for. This is what us Amazons are built for.

"Think of the young women, young girls and infants in their houses sleeping peacefully right now. Think of the women you grew up with, of the friendships and sisterhoods you have forged in those years. Think of the woman beside you now. That is who you fight for when Echidna comes. Not ourselves, but the women" - the Queen made a pointed look at Dick as she continued - "and man that reside on this island tonight. They will need you when the fight comes. So are you ready?'

The entire hall exploded with cheers and whistles of eagerness, and that brought a bright smile to Queen Hippolyta's face. 'In that case, enjoy tonight. Dance, eat, drink, sing. Be free.'

By the flick of the Queen's wrist, the band in the corner Dick hadn't seen started playing beautiful music and the tables were moved to create room for a dance floor.

'Princess, you must join us for a dance!' Some young girls came around the table and gently pulled Y/N from her seat, to which Y/N just laughed as she allowed them to drag her to the dance floor. Dick watched Y/N join the other women, watched her smile stretch wide and bright, watched her embrace and let herself go as she danced.

When was the last time she'd done that?

'...when we last spoke, she sounded like she didn't want to be found. That she would come back to us when she was ready...'

'Maybe she doesn't want to see you, have you considered that?'

Kaldur's words haunted him, had been since he left M'gann and Connor's house. He just hadn't taken his friend's warning seriously until now.

Kaldur was right.

Dick rose from his seat and quickly excused himself from the party, suddenly overwhelmed by the music and the full room. He escaped to one of the balconies nearby and was relieved that he could finally hear himself think. And yet now he could hear it all in the outdoor silence - the conflicting emotions and thoughts running through him.

Did she really belong here or back home?

Did he mean as much to her anymore as much as she meant to him?

What did he truly feel for her?

What will happen when Echidna strikes tomorrow?

So many issues and so little time to solve them all.

He didn't know how long he stood there, looking out over the mountain and ocean, over the flickering lights of those who feasted in their homes. It could've been hours, and yet the full moon barely moved.

'What are you doing out here?'

Dick was knocked out of his mind at the sound of the sweet voice, and he turned to find Y/N standing on the steps that lead back inside to the bustling party, an exhausted grin adorning her flushed face. With the firelight behind her and the moon shining onto her dress, Dick could've sworn she glowed divinely.

'S-Sorry?' he called out, confused as to why she was out there in the first place.

'I asked what are you doing out here all by yourself on such a beautiful night?' Y/N repeated, walking down the steps before making her way over to him at the balcony's edge. 'You're usually one for parties if high school was any indicator.'

Dick tried to laugh, but it came out as a weak cough. 'Yeah well, we're a long way from high school, aren't we.'

'What's going on with you?' Y/N asked, and Dick could feel her stare on him. 'You've been oddly... quiet this evening.'

'I just don't feel well is all. Don't worry I will be fine for the battle tomorrow.'

'That's a load of crap, Grayson and you know it.'

Dick didn't reply, just looked out over the ocean in the hopes that she would leave. But she didn't and Dick finally turned to meet her stare. It was like she was undressing him, but not in the physical sense. In the way she'd always been able to read him and say silently that she knew he wasn't okay.

That one stare made him feel more vulnerable than being naked, or doing flips off a podium twenty metres in the air with no safety net to catch him.

'I just... I've been doing some thinking,' he started, 'and I think that... if we both survive this... that you should stay here. On Themyscira. If that is what you want.'

Y/N scrunched her brows in confusion. 'So... you're giving me permission to stay here if we all live through Echidna's war? Seriously?'

Dick turned to her fully. 'No, I mean yes- But no you don't need my permission to stay, I just... I'm sorry this is coming out all wrong.' He took a calming breath before starting again. 'What I mean to say is, I came after you for the wrong reasons. I was being selfish and stubborn. But I want you to be happy. And seeing you dance tonight with the other women... well, I can't remember the last time myself or any of the team brought you that kind of happiness.'

'What about your mission?' she asked, her voice distant, almost scared.

Dick flashed her a casual smile. 'Don't worry about it. I'll manage. I never should've come here in the first place. I'm sorry.' Dick gestured back to the stairs and started back-tracking towards them. 'Let's go rejoin the party while we still can, huh? You're right, I do love a good party.'

Just as he turned his back, Y/N called out. 'I'm not.'

He paused for a moment, then looked over his shoulder to find Y/N looking at him with an intensity that almost sent him staggering. 'What?' he asked.

'I'm not sorry you came,' she answered, taking a deep breath in to maintain her composure.

Surprised by her answer, Dick turned back to her. 'You're not?'

She shook her head, then started fidgeting with her dress and looked down. 'Am I angry you came? Yes, initially. Am I still hurting because of what you did, and is your presence just a daily reminder of that pain? Most definitely.'

That last one struck him deep. He had never wanted to be the cause of so much pain. Not to her of all people.

After another deep breath, Y/N finally looked up at him. 'But that doesn't mean I didn't miss you.'

There it was again, that look she'd given him on the stairs earlier, in fact she'd given it to him many times before, he realised. Not just on Themyscira but back home, back when they were sixteen. It was the look of truth and honesty, of adoration and care.

His heart thumped so heavily in his chest he swore Y/N could hear it, and while he didn't understand what the thought of Y/N missing him implied, he knew how it made him feel.

'I missed you too,' he said honestly, returning to stand in front of Y/N. He didn't know why, but it felt right to reach for her hands, and she didn't push him away as he enclosed his fingers around hers. 'A-And being here has made me realise something else, too.'

'What's that?' Her breath fanned his face they stood so close, closer than what simple friends should. But he didn't care, it felt right, it felt natural.

'That I... I just...' He couldn't get the words out, they were so heavy with meaning they got stuck in his throat. Both afraid and excited to say them aloud, he couldn't decide what fate would be worse. Be honest and rejected, or be honest and see if she felt the same.

'You what, Dick?' she whispered, eyes never leaving his.

They both realised that it was the first time she'd called him by his first name since he'd landed on Themyscira. And if that wasn't a sign, then Dick didn't know what would be.

'I just...' Dick started, but a shadow crossed over Y/N's face and he quickly turned to find a a giant winged creature with fangs and a humanoid body reaching to him with its claws.

'Get down!' Dick cried as he turned and dove to the ground with Y/N. He felt the talons of the creature brush against his back as he partially covered Y/N out of natural instinct. The creature screeched as it soared high above again, disappearing into the darkness despite the moonlight.

'Are you okay?' Dick asked as he helped Y/N to her feet.

'Yes, I'm fine,' Y/N said, her eyes trained on the sky.

'What was that?' Dick asked, trying to spy the creature but there was no sign of it anywhere.

'That was a harpy,' Y/N answered, then her eyes locked on to something in the sky, her face paling with fear.

Dick followed her gaze and found himself frozen with fear himself. The harpy had come back but with more of its kind. Many more. So much so they blocked out the moon and engulfed the palace in darkness.

'Echidna's war...' Y/N breathed out in disbelief. 'It' has begun.'

---------------------

Tag List:

@valiantbouquetcloud | @epicy0n | @resistanythingbuttemptation | @lunaizhere | @nameunknownsthings | @tqrgvryen | @pariahsparadise | @edgycat | @b4tm4nn | @cynwing | @lilylovelyxo | @herondale-lightworm | @animeflower26 | @tiny-marie | @jedigrayson | @kookiemyfeelsposts | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @vxxviennne | @peachmartini | @jayn333-blog | @rory-cakes

[ponderingmoonlight]

(y/n) sparing Kokushibo's life for him to save her

Pairing: Kokushibo x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,9k

Synopsis: You find yourself standing in front of none other than the upper moon one. And while you know your chances are low and that your life might end in the dusk of day, you are able to cage Kokushibo into the upgoing sun. Until his eyes are filled with sorrow, until you make a decicion that might cost your life...

Warnings: this is my first ever Kokushibo fic so please let me know what you think! Like for Yorichii, I inserted a few pics into the fanfic itself so be prepared, angst to fluff, not proofread yet, NO MANGA SPOILERS 🤍

Special thanks to my dear @lavenderdrxp for the request!

The cold air of the night lashes against your sensitive skin without mercy, only warmed by your blood that runs down your frame like rivers. You are so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of your life. Why did you decide on becoming a demon slayer, developing into a quite skilled hashira? Right, because one of them murdered your whole village without blinking, because you wanted to protect humans from their cruel hands.

Your fingers start to tremble uncontrollably while you hold onto your sword for dear life, the handle smeared in crimson. The second you laid your eyes on him, felt his presence, you saw death itself. You’ve never encountered one of the upper moons carefully chosen by Muzan Kibutsuji himself. Until today, you were so keen to win this endless fight, thought you’d stand a chance against the demon king.

“Give up your dreams and die.”

But the man in front of you is the upper moon one. The man in front of you was able to almost kill you with just one skilled slash of his sword. Is this how you’ll die? In a 10-minute fight with a demon? Of course, you always knew your life would end like this. After all, this is the fate of a demon slayer, this is what you chose.

But…you don’t want to die. You want to live a long and healthy life, want to eat mochis until sunset and play cards with your friends.

“I will never give up”, you press out, dashing forward over and over again.

Your body begs you to stop and rest, to let your blade fall and never return to this life. But instead, you stare into his cold eyes, those beautiful colourful orbs that would fascinate you in another situation. How did a man like him end up being such a powerful demon?

“Foolish human. Do you really think you are able to defeat me?”

Your eyes dart up to the sky above. That cursed night that makes it possible for these creatures to walk on earth freely. But that faint shimmer of orange tells you that day will soon arrive, that maybe…

It might be stupid to even consider a win, that you’ll make it out of here alive. But if you are able to entertain him for a couple more minutes and trap him until sunrise, you’d be able to not only escape, but kill him.

Your mind starts to race, eyes scanning his body up and down. He’s quite tall and muscular, it won’t be easy to defeat him without any weapons. No, not even your katana will be enough. But maybe the poison you created with Shinobu-san will be.

“Use this against a demon whenever you feel like you can’t defeat him otherwise. This will make any demon unable to move for at least a few minutes.”

Every demon, she said. Every demon definitely includes the man standing in front of you. But will this be enough, are you actually skilled enough to even hit him? You need to inject the poison into his body, meaning a slice with your poisoned blade would be more than enough.

But that means you have to land a hit.

“You’re a fool if you really think I’ll give up so easily.”

Kokushibo needs to move, needs to end this fight before the sun starts to rise. You’re a hashira, his worst enemy. But instead, he can’t help but stare at you through the darkness of the night. You seem so unbothered by his presence, so confident in your abilities that it simply sweeps him off his feet.

Are you actually dumb enough to underestimate him? No, the fact that you keep your save distance to his sword tells him more than urgently that you know very well who is standing in front of you. No, your firm believe in yourself is enough to make you stand your ground.

And again, you dash towards him, holding onto your sword so tightly that your knuckles stand out white. He dodges your attack with ease, slicing through your tender flesh too light to hurt you critically. Oh, he knows all too well that he’s holding back, that you should be dead already. Why is he not able to end this fight, to finally get rid of you? Your eyes seem to gleam in the darkness, light up the word around him. When was the last time he saw the sun? He can’t remember. But your eyes have to be close.

A sudden pain crawling up his back rips him out of his pondering. What was that? Did you manage to hit him, is the sun starting to rise? Slowly he turns around, eyes finding your cramped-up figure on the floor. His flesh starts to heal in an instant, the only hint for your attack being a minor cut in his cloak. Yes, you indeed managed to hit him.

“I thought you are a hashira. Aren’t you aware that as a demon, I’m healing in an instant?”

Your heavy breaths hang in the air between both of you, your blood discolouring the forest ground crimson while your hands dig into the mud. This was all you’ve had left. It has to be enough, the poison has to function. Otherwise…

Your tired eyes dart towards him and the way he slowly approaches you. Will this be your end? Like in slow motion he raises his sword over your head, ready to behead you. At least you did what you could, faced him with everything you’ve head. Becoming a demon slayer meant being ready to give your life sooner or later. You allow your lids to rest, awaiting the bow of his sharp blade in silence. At least your end will be graceful, right?

But instead of his sharp blade, you are greeted by his tall figure crashing into you onto the ground. Is this real? Did the poison work? You force your eyes open, heart almost beating out of your chest when you begin to realize.

You made it. Despite the stinging fact that this man is the upper moon one, you somehow managed to stand up against him and steal his ability to move.

“You…poisoned…me”, he presses out.

What a fool he was for sparing your life when he had the chance to kill you so easily. Now the sun slowly but surely starts to rise, makes his skin burn uncomfortably while his venomous eyes stare right through your soul. You really are a brave one, bright orbs set on him while you free yourself from the pressure of his body above you.

“I did what I have to do. You are my enemy.”

Yes, you have to remind yourself over and over again. It doesn’t matter that his facial features suddenly begin to soften, you really don’t care about the way he stares into the rising sun. No, it doesn’t bother you that he looks almost…hurt.

“I haven’t seen a sunrise for a long time”, he mumbles.

“I love to see the sun rise. There is no better feeling than the first warm rays of the day against bare skin and that striking colours painted in the sky.”

“You look exactly like a woman who adores sunrises”, he comments so tenderly that you rip your gaze away from the orange sky for a second.

“And you look like a man who did as well”, you reply without thinking twice.

In the dim light he looks breathtakingly gorgeous. Yes, there is no doubt that this demon once was a handsome man with the kindest eyes. You hold your breath, the mark engraved into his eye reminding you more than urgently that this man is indeed a powerful demon. You should leave him to the sheer force of the sun, let him burn for all the sins he committed. But instead, a deep grief holds onto your heart tightly.

“I did indeed.”

Is that a tear escaping his eye? No, impossible. No demon you ever encountered cried, regretted his actions. Does he feel the presence of death haunting after him, the way his skin starts to burn under the first rays of sunshine? His forehead starts to redden before catching fire, making a deep whimper escape his lips.

“Do you want to live on?”

What a stupid question to ask, how reckless to even talk to him. Why does your hand cup his cheek all of the sudden, why do you feel sorry for one of the strongest demons in existence?

“Maybe dying in the upgoing sun is more than I am able to ask for”, he speaks out slowly and reserved.

Your mind starts to raise, comes up with a plan more poisonous than anything Shinobu has ever created. This is ridiculous to even think about, you are a demon slayer, a hashira to be exact. The thought alone is ridiculous.

But not ridiculous enough to stop yourself from grabbing him under his armpits and start hovering him into the safety of the thick woods, away from the dangerous rays of sunshine. You feel like fainting, your very own blood following you behind like a trail while you huff in exhaustion. But still, you keep on moving, shield his body from the sun with your blood-soaked coat while all he does is staring at the angelic sky.

This will be the death of you, as soon as he regains the power over his body, he’ll slice you into pieces. Why? Why are you not strong enough to outstand your pity, why weren’t you able to leave him to his fate? Instead, you find yourself hauling him up a pair of stairs leading into an abandoned cottage you’ve known for years. This is your safe place, your retreat from this cruel world.

And this will be the place you lose your life in.

You fall onto the cold wooden floor the second the door behind both of you is closed, your mouth tasting like iron while coughing up blood. You must be severely injured, given the fact how numb your body starts to feel and how your heart seems to beat slower with every passing minute.

Your eyes catch his shadow next to you, how it builds up into its old frightening gloom. The poison must have worn off, gave him back the ability to move freely. You swallow hard, glossy eyes widened in thick horror.

This will be your end.

“Why did you save me?”

His dark voice sends shivers down your spine, the sheer presence of his powers alone while laying on the floor helplessly almost making you lose your composure.

“I don’t know”, you mumble in response, voice nothing more than a fade away whisper.

His heavy yet light footsteps make the floor vibrate underneath his weight when he crosses the room and comes to a stand in front of you. All you can do is stare at his feet next to your head, waiting for your certain death.

“I’m the upper moon one”, he reminds you.

“And I’m…a hashira…”

You feel the wood next to you give in under his weight as he kneels down next to you, six eyes staring at you intensely. Why…why is he still hesitating? It wouldn’t be hard to kill you in the state you are in, even though the sun now almost fully rose. What a victory, killing another hashira off with ease, coming closer to being the strongest.

Kokushibo can’t help but admire you for the way you still carry yourself with so much pride. Despite the fact that you’ll die within an hour if not treated, despite his sheer presence by your side, your eyes still hold contact with his unwavering. Like in trance he leans forward, lets go of the handle of his sword for the first time since forever. As gentle as his hands remember to move, he places them onto your stomach, watches as your eyes fill with dread. Is he even able to use his powers after all this time ignoring them? He has to try.

The room lights up in red as your body seems to burn alive, a silent scream escaping your lips before you are able to stop it. Out of instinct, you grab on of his hands, hold onto it tightly while waiting for the sharp pain haunting down your body.

But nothing happens. No, it almost feels as if…your pain slowly fades away.

“You…You healed me”, you breathe out in utter disbelief, chest rising and falling so sharply that oxygen refuses to fill your lungs.

Your hands wander around your body rapidly, scan every inch of your busted skin to be greeted by nothing.

“You healed me.”

“You saved me”, he replies briefly, hands still pressed onto your stomach ever so slightly.

Time stands still, the only thing you can think about are his eyes. The eyes that were filled with sorrow when staring into certain death, the eyes that roamed around your body to check for your injuries, the eyes that are now locked with yours.

“Thank you.”

“I need to thank you as well”, he answers calmly.

“I-…”

You don’t know what to say. Is all of this just a dream? This creature, this force of a man kneeling next to you is none other than the upper moon one, the most dangerous demon after Muzan Kibusuji himself. But he didn’t kill you. No, in fact he even healed your severe wounds, saved your life instead of sinking his teeth into you.

He spared you.

Your life was saved by a demon.

“Join the demon slayer corps. Come with me.”

Your words leave your mouth faster than you are able to even think, regret immediately washing over you like a wave. What on earth were you just saying?

“Did you forget how I am?”

“In exchange for saving your life”, you continue.

He just stares at you, eyes widen in sheer surprise. He expected everything when he followed your tracks tonight, the mission Muzan Kibutsuji entrusted Kokushibo with still present in his mind. It was fairly simple: Kill the hashira with the bright orbs, the girl on her way to a nearby village flooded by demons.

But now that he’s sitting right next to you, his hands still resting against your stomach, your heartbeat pounding against his palms, he simply can’t imagine to end your life right here and now. No, the urge to brush his fingertips over your cheek just once, to feel the heat of your skin becomes almost unbearable. Is it because of your innocent eyes, because you saved him despite he injured you severely?

“We live in different worlds, (y/n). It is simply impossible for me to be a part of yours.”

Your stomach drops by the way he says your name, breath getting stuck in your throat. You’ve seen countless demons in your life, always hated every single one with all of your heart. But this man showed you his real face, that he is still human after all these years. Maybe there is still hope, maybe turning into a demon doesn’t have to be a death sentence. Maybe…maybe you’ll be able to save Tanjiro Kamado’s sister.

“Promise that we’ll meet each other again. Promise me that you’ll visit me here right here again soon”, you urge.

“I…”

Kokushibo is los at words, lost in your bright orbs, lost in your tenderness. Not so long ago, he was on his way to end your life violently, to kill you and leave with the arrival of the sun. But now he finds himself right by your side, his mind wandering just by the exciting thought of meeting you again.

“I will visit you again”, he finally gives in.

“Good”, you breathe out.

“Now, tell me a little about yourself. After all, we are trapped here until the sun goes down.”

“I don’t enjoy talking that much.”

“Come on…”

-one year later-

Your eyes gleam in the down-going sun, whole body electrified in excitement. Only a few minutes before the sun is gone, only a few minutes until you finally see him again. As much as you adore the play of colours in the sky just before the sun sets, you started to love the tenderness of the night far more.

Because it means he’s able to walk freely, because it means finally seeing him again.

“There you are, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat, cheeks already heating up before you even turned around. You wrap your arms around his tall figure in an instant, his thumb gently stroking over your forehead.

"I still despise that scar", he states, eyes lost in your sight.

He was the one who did this to you, the one who almost killed you that night.

“That was long ago, Koku, please don't worry about it. I missed you, where have you been?”

There he stands as charismatic as ever, his sheer presence alone signalling nothing but power. You never fail to notice that he’s around no matter where you are, looking after you while fighting off demons. Oh, how much he hates to hide in the shadow, to keep his affection a secret. But there is no way he’ll allow any other upper moon to harm a single hair on your body, let alone Muzan Kibutsuji himself.

Gently, you wrap your arms around him the way he adores so much, rest your head against his chest while he strokes your hair gently.

“I need to keep you save, I am not risking your life over one meeting, (y/n)”, he explains in all seriousness.

“I’d rather die than not seeing you”, you reply with a grin.

“Don’t say that, (y/n)”, he warns you while wrapping his arms tighter around your waist.

Need more? Click here for my Yoriichi x fem!reader fic!

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @kayleegomez @snowywhiterose @chosomybeloved3

[queers-gambit]

Bait and Switch

prompt: ( requested ) Adar knows you by surname and reputation, but makes a fatal mistake: underestimating the mutual desire to reunite with your husband.

pairing: Elrond x female!wife!reader -> hair color specified reader that does not specify race

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 7.7k+

note: did i steal the Targaryen hair color? "obviously," - Severus Snape. but don't let HOTD's wigs fool you - this hair color is NOT indicative of race.

warnings: reader insert for the haters, spoilers, cursing, angst, hurt and comfort, fuck tone of ellipsis 'cause Adar talks slow. POW!Reader (prisoner of war), violence, blood, injury, depiction of medical phenomenon (cauterization), slight gore (Reader bites off an Orc finger). healthy family dynamics, embedded Aragorn quote, Middle-earth fire is hotter than reality so JUST. roll. with. it. okay? okay. also, this requires a lot of imagination 'cause author invents really random lore but have fun with it. not edited, author can't see straight so what the fuck is this?

incarnate: embody or represent (a diety or spirit) in human form

"We found an Elf still alive, Lord Father!"

Adar watched lazily as one of his children stood over a body covered by toxic volcanic ash; twitching as it regained consciousness. "Kill it," he answered simply. The Orc snarled in pleasure and bent to grab the Elf's head; gripping their hair aggressively, yanking their head up - possibly snapping the Elf's spine - and lifted his blade in the air. However, the clump of hair was familiar and suddenly, Adar was barking, "Wait!"

Not many Elves had this particular hair color. It was dyed from soot and ash, but he could recognize the bright, platinum white-blonde hair. While some Elves were extremely fair yellow-blonde, this was white - like the purest of snows. And Adar only knew this trait belonged to one single bloodline.

The Incarnated, a single brood blessed by the Valar to give them unnatural strength and skill in battle. They were impressive, formidable foes; and typically, never lost a fight, battle, or war. They were absolutely brutish, almost impossible to kill, yet humble, generous, and kind.

Their aim always found the bullseye. Broadswords able to sever bone. Morality skewed more positive than simple neutrality. Silver tongues sharpened to prick the ears that listen.

However, it should be noted that even the Incarnated cannot withstand against the eruption of a volcano.

The Orc snarled with confusion now, hissing through his bloody teeth but not lowering the Elf. Adar strolled over, glaring at their captive, but slowly lowering himself to a squat as the Orc presented his finding. Adar's eyes squinted, reaching out and musing the trademark locks out of the Elf's face; smirking as he caressed her cheek free of ash.

He growled your name, sight still hazy from the eruption of what will later be known as Mount Doom - yet could still recognize sounds. Slowly, you blinked and tried to focus, groaning as pain in your scalp burned and prickled; spine bowed from the horribly painful position.

"Adar?" You whispered in confusion.

"You remember me."

You scoffed, slurring slightly, "You left quite a lasting impression."

His hand dropped to push hair from your neck and shoulder, revealing a long blemish from his dagger years ago. "And here we meet yet again," Adar chuckled. "Release her," he told his child, who instantly dropped you with a grunt; ash puffing up on impact. "Come," Adar offered his hand as you tried to sit up with trembling limbs, "we've still farther to go."

"Fuck you," you seethed, spitting at him; ready for the pain to end after the displacement and turmoil of your people. You had been with the Númenoreans, along with Commander Galadriel, and this... "King" Halbrand; celebrating victory against Adar's first volley of Orcs when the explosion happened; spewing toxicity into the earth, through the air, and evidently, over the area to distinguish what will be known as Mordor.

"Hm," Adar considered your weak form, chuckling. "Get her up," he commanded, standing, and watching as chains were slapped to your wrists and ankles before being tossed into a bloody, maggot-infested, wood-rotting wagon.

Seemingly eons away, Elrond was being informed of your assumed demise. Your husband refused to believe it, but by the solemn look of the messenger, his greatest companion, Galadriel, he knew there was weighted truth to her words.

"Did you see her?" Elrond asked.

"See her fall? No - "

"Did you even look for her?"

"Of course we did, but it was too dangerous to linger longer than what we'd been there for."

Elrond's head shook, "No. No... I won't believe it - "

"I know it's difficult to accept, but... She's gone, Elrond."

"I would know if my wife is dead," Elrond snarled uncharacteristically. "Believe what you wish, but I know she still lives."

Galadriel knew better than to argue; she, herself, spent years of denial after Sauron murdered her brother, Finrod. So she gave Elrond space to process what he'd learned.

Yet while a circumstantially redeeming quality, Elrond was stubborn and confident in his morals and opinions. So, he refused to believe your life was lost; something in his gut twisted knowingly, assuring you were just misplaced and surely, soon to be home. Elrond knew you had a flair for the dramatic, so, he just prayed this was one of those times - where you wouldn't reappear until the very last second to make an entrance.

Yet Adar took every precaution to ensure you did not escape or could be rescued. He didn't parade you around, he kept you hidden away to prevent gossip from revealing your location. You were constantly left chained to posts by rusting irons, no comfort offered, no reprieve; nothing to pass your annoying suffering a little easier. You were fed just enough to be kept alive, you were allowed to wash yourself with a single cloth every few weeks - but typically with an Orcish audience watching, claiming they're "on duty". You lost use of your tongue after so many months had passed without a single indication aid had been deployed - hope shattered and futile.

You wondered if Elrond knew. You worried he thought you lost to the war. In vain, you prayed he didn't give up on you. However, you were logical and logic screamed at you that nobody would come - there was no point! You would've believed being told someone perished, too, if you heard of such circumstances.

Despite being an Incarnated, you were emotionally drained. Though, it's worth noting that under normal circumstances, you would've NEVER ended up in this position; but because of your vulnerable state and the opportunity was too good to pass up, Adar prided himself on "defeating you". He didn't know that you were beyond patient; waiting, observing, listening, leaning routines and schedules. Any opportunity you identified, you searched for anything that could help you escape; something sharp, small enough to pick the lock of your irons. You were Incarnated - your will to survive (even out of pure spite) rivaled that of any enemy.

Camp to camp, you were moved. Day by day, you lost a little more sanity. Nights grew cold, days short.

You were surprised when a pair of Orcs lumbered into "your" room, unlocking you from the post but keeping the chains on your wrists in place. They yanked you behind them, shoved you into Adar's tented shelter then forced you to your knees before the food-filled banquet table.

"And of course, there's her," Adar waved at you lazily, smirking when his newest prisoner of war sat forward with a gobsmacked expression.

She whispered your name, head snapping up to find your companion, Commander Galadriel, sat at the opposite head of the table to Adar. You smiled slightly and whispered her name softly, aware of your appearance and how straggly, despondent, and wary you must look.

"What is the meaning of this?" Galadriel demanded, the emotion in her thick voice making it crack.

"We found her," Adar smirked, "after you and your people abandoned her."

"We did not - "

"She's been... An honored guest of ours," Adar cut Galadriel off. "Her hair - it's a rare trait, I knew who she was when she was found. Figured she could truly help... Turn the tides in this war."

"You do not know what you've done," Galadriel breathed. "If her kin knew you held her, they would raze your camp into the dirt and return your children to darkness."

"You think... I do not understand the risks of holding an Incarnated? I have faced them before, known their wrath... But against Sauron, it was a necessary risk to take."

"Why?"

"You must see," Adar explained, "that it is not His lies which must be extinguished. It. Is. Him." He paused, revealing, "And I can help you do it." Adar leaned forward in his chair, "I can help you destroy Sauron, and should you value your friend's life, you will let me help you."

"What help could you possibly provide, Orc?" Galadriel spat, now leaned back casually in the chair Adar sat her in.

"Uruk," Adar corrected in Black Speech, standing from his seat to venture towards the side of the room. He stood before a plain wooden box, lifting the lid, and revealing in his hands:

"Morgoth's crown," Galadriel sat up. "I was told - "

"There are many stories of what happened after the Silmarils were pried from its setting," Adar validated. "But I was there when Sauron re-fired it to fit Himself. I was there when He kneeled to be crowned. And I was the one who used its power to slay Him."

Adar set the crown to the table, your stomach growling at the sight and smell of full platters.

"If what you say is true... Why did He return?" Galadriel asked.

"Because I had not yet found you, as I have her," he gestured at you.

"What part are we to play in this?"

"It is said the Three Elven Rings saved your people from fading. Is it true?" When Galadriel didn't answer, Adar nodded at one of his children standing over you; making the Orc bash you in the temple. "Is it true?" Adar repeated over your whimper of pain.

"Yes," Galadriel grit, glaring at the small dribble of fresh blood dripping down the side of your face. She decided red wasn't your color - no matter how much your husband liked seeing you in it.

"Then perhaps... Together, this crown and your Rings would be powerful enough to truly destroy Sauron forever. The Deceiver believes he is still beyond my grasp... But I know he hides in Eregion. And I suspect you know for certain... Halbrand is Sauron... Isn't he?"

You laughed a little, "Halbrand? Sauron? Come off it, you're mistaken. Go on, Commander, tell him - tell him." Galadriel was silent as she was overwhelmed by her memories. "Commander, tell him he's wrong! Halbrand isn't Sauron, tell him he's mistaken!"

Adar mistook the silence as her being defiant, nodding to his son again in permission. So, the Orc swiftly backhanded you with enough force, it literally toppled you backwards with a groan.

"I kept her alive... For you," Adar growled, bearing his teeth at the Elleth. "But I'll execute her at nightfall if you continue down this path of resistance. The fate of that city and your friend now rests on your ability to put aside your pride." Galadriel's teary eyes casted over you, sprawled out on the floor - not finding the use in sitting up to your knees again. "I suggest you find the will to do so... If you can, for everyone's sake." Adar removed the crown from the table and placed it back in its box, Galadriel hissing your name, only receiving a nonverbal thumbs up to indicate you were okay. When the Father of Uruks returned, he clipped matching irons to Galadriel's wrist before snatching up his sword, tossing over his shoulder, "We will speak again. I'll give you until nightfall to decide."

The Orcs filed out of the room after Adar, leaving you on the ground and chained to a spare post. Slowly, you tried to sit up and use the beam as support; grimacing in pain that made your friend question, "Are you hurt?"

"They're not the most merciful lot," you tried to joke with a smirk, but it turned into a wince, "but I've been through worse, I'll be fine. Listen to me, Galadriel," you sniffled, "you can't tell Adar anything. I don't care if he's gutting me, you don't tell him - "

"I would not have your life ended on my account, it would be as if swinging the sword myself!" Galadriel argued with heat.

"Adar is not your ally," you scoffed, "nor are the Orcs - look at what they've done! Continue to do! Do not be so foolish! So blinded, please, I beg you, my friend. If you tell him about Sauron, yes, your enemy might be vanquished, but you could be creating an entirely new and future enemy that all of Middle-earth must endure. My life is not worth that."

"It's worth more."

You smirked, "Don't forget who I am, friend; I am Incarnated, and I will not die easily nor without a fight. Adar will not succeed in my death so easily."

Galadriel shook her head, "If I do not indulge Adar with information I have and you lose your life because of that, Elrond would never forgive me."

You gave a watery smile, sniffling, "How is he?"

The Elf shook her head, "He's... He refuses to accept your fate, operates on a shorter fuse, he's mourning - even if he doesn't acknowledge or believe he is."

"It's not that I don't love you, my friend, but... I'll miss him the most," you let a single tear fall, a wistful smile toying on your lips. "You'll look out for him, won't you? Just... Just don't let him be alone, please. He'll try to push you away, but be patient; he'll need you and I'll rest easier knowing you'll be there."

"I won't do as you ask," Galadriel grit. "Look at you!"

"How can you be so confident that the moment you tell Adar what he wants to know, he won't kill me anyway?"

"Because Adar appears a man of rationality - unlike Sauron - "

You scoffed, "None of them are rational, Galadriel! They have their own agendas - and none of them benefit the likes of us! Don't tell him anything else, I don't care if he's gutting me like a pig, you don't say anything!"

"I can't agree to that," Galadriel shook her head, "I won't, not when there's a chance we can both get out of this alive."

"And if we survive just to witness the eradication of our people!?" Galadriel was silent, bowing her head. With a sigh, you asked, "Where's Nenya?"

"Safe with Elrond."

"Oh?" You chuckled. "How'd that happen? You have to break his finger off to put it on?"

Galadriel gave a breathy chuckle, "He needed a bit of convincing, but with the greater good at stake - he was left no choice."

With a smirk of amusement, you nodded slowly, then requested, "Could you promise me something decently reasonable?"

"I can try."

"If you make it outta here and I don't - "

"Do not say that!"

"Galadriel, just - stop for a moment and listen to me, please. If you get out of here and I do not, tell Elrond what happened. Tell him Adar found me after the volcano erupted, kept me prisoner, and that I tried." Tears brimmed your waterline, "Tell him I tried to escape, to get back to him... But if I don't make it and you do, please, tell him I love him - more than anything. Tell him I'll wait for him on white shores."

"Tell him yourself."

As promised, when night fell, Adar returned. His second in command, Glüg, approached you with a brandished sword and laid it at your neck with a cruel and twisted expression.

"Have you made your decision?" Adar questioned, Galadriel looking between him and the threat to your life. "Choose wisely, or I'll let my children bleed her; right here, right now. Tell me what I've asked."

"Don't tell him shit, Galadriel!" You barked in a last ditch effort, earning a balled-up-armored fist to rock your jaw. You spit a glob of blood to the side, snarling at Glüg, "You hit like like a bitch." He spit on you.

With a huff, Galadriel exposed, "Yes, Halbrand is Sauron. He's in Eregion to craft Rings that will allow Him to dominate my kind... And yours."

"Every kind in Middle-earth," Adar corrected.

Quickly, Galadriel rushed, "But He will not attempt escape until His task is complete. And that gives us a momentary advantage."

"'Us'?" The Father repeated.

"Unlock me."

"Galadriel! Think for a second!" You snapped, but Glüg pressed his blade deeper into your throat. You seethed, frustrated and angry tears turning suffocating. Adar approached your friend, eyes trained on her, causing the Elleth to look away in discomfort as Adar undid the iron cuff on Galadriel's wrist.

"As we speak, Y/N's husband, Elrond, hastens from Lindon with an army of Elves..." She boldly looked at Adar, you struggling against the blade at the sound of Elrond's name, "And Nenya, my Ring."

"Galadriel! Stop, don't say another word! Silence yourself!" You begged, whimpering shrilly when blood flowed from Glüg's disgustingly dirty blade.

"I see," Adar turned from the Elf.

You were ignored and Galadriel rose from her seat, following Adar while continuing, "Once he arrives, he will seal off the city, loose Celebrimbor from Sauron's grasp, and then together... Uruk, you and I will eradicate all trace of Sauron from this world. Never to return."

"And what then?" Adar questioned.

"Any Ring that have known his touch must be destroyed."

"I meant, what then for the Uruk? Will your High King permit us to return home in peace? Or will he proceed with his plans to invade Mordor? The shadow has not only overcome you, it has overcome all of Elvendom. In the end, your drive to prove your virtue will work right into Sauron's designs."

"You speak lies," Galadriel whispered as if in disbelief. "Hoping I will reveal something."

"You have already revealed everything I hoped you would and more."

You groaned and tossed your head back into the beam; a harsh thump echoing as Adar charged out of the tent with Galadriel and Glüg on his heels.

"Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel struggled in her restraints, unable to stray far from her seat as two Orcs entered the tent and began unclipping your irons. You didn't fight them, rolling your tired eyes as they began dragging you out on your backside. "NO! NO! Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel sobbed, on her feet, trying to follow.

"Remember your promise," you told her, forcing yourself to find contentment that your friend could be the last friendly image your brain would register.

"No, please! Please! You will not profit from her death! I have told you what your Father wanted, now release her! Her death will not profit you, but instead, will bring about your utter ruin! Please! Y/N!"

The Orcs ignored Galadriel's pleas, dragging you from the tent and amongst the snarling, snapping Orcs. Adar stood before a cart big enough for a single prisoner, smirking, giving his children command in Black Speech to load you inside. He watched, telling you, "Galadriel says your husband is on his way with an army. Surely, the sight of his wife might give Commander Elrond pause. The knowledge that you're alive will bring him to my table."

You were strung up by your arms, spread in exposure, tarps thrown over the cage to effectively cut you off from the rest of the world. You felt the cage rattle as you were lugged through mud. You couldn't identify hardly anything... Until a familiar horn bellowed in the short distance, making your chest tighten. While excited by the prospect of a rescue, you loathed the idea of Elrond running head first into a trap.

Your Elven ears picked up on the sound of thundering horse hooves, knowing your people (kin, too) were charging towards Adar's army; who were swiftly gathering in organized ranks. Your cage came to a halt, and a moment later, you flinched when the front-facing tarp was ripped down and the light above Eregion glared down on you. You were greeted with the sight of your husband surging closer on horseback, time seemingly slowing when your eyes locked and he registered who Adar's prisoner was.

You flinched when an Orc pressed the tip of their blade into your already injured neck, reopening a wound to send a single stream of blood steadily flowing.

"Halt!" Elrond called in Sindarin, the entire procession coming to an almost synchronized halt. He sized up the enemy, but kept letting his eyes glaze over you - disbelief coloring his expression. Elrond's horse stamped in place, Adar stepping forward to speak.

"Welcome, Commander Elrond."

"Y/N!" A voice shouted from the army, Elrond's head snapping over in time to see your siblings - three brothers, two sisters - dismounting their horses.

"Wait, wait!" Elrond barked at them, holding a hand up; your siblings halting themselves.

"Wise," Adar taunted, your irons noisily rattling when you tried to adjust your stance.

In Sindarin, you called to your eldest brother, "Do what needs done, do not spare my life for this foolishness! Take them down! Be done with it! Rid us of their filth!"

"I should think... Commander Elrond would like to hear my proposal first," Adar told you casually.

"I think they should put you and children in the dirt!" You spat, earning several snarls, growls, and hisses from the surrounding Orcs.

Elrond encouraged his horse forward, standing in the sunlight highlighting 'no man's land'. He glared at Adar, but asked you, "Are you hurt?"

"Only my ego," you assured.

His eyes flickered over to Adar, then nodded, "I will hear you first."

"You're wasting your time," you told him in Sindarin.

"On you, it's not a waste," he answered stiffly, almost angrily. "I would have her set free for the duration of our parlay."

"But of course," Adar agreed, being carted away at his Blackened command. Due to the tarps hanging over the other 3 sides of your prison, you lost sight of Elrond; forced to blindly follow instruction and behave.

The Elves were not permitted weapons in the Uruk camp.

Elrond dismounted his horse with Vorohil and your eldest brother, Iallion, who insisted on going to gauge your state, in time to watch the Orcs yank you from the cart and drag you into a tent as if your legs were of no use. It was all he needed to know to understand your treatment the past few months you've been 'missing'. His hand clapped Adar's shoulder before the Father of Orcs could pass him by, snarling, "If I come to learn you've been mistreating my wife, I assure you, there will be consequences."

Adar just chuckled and lead the way into his tent. Several Orcs shoved Elrond's shoulder and forced him, his second-in-command, and your brother to follow.

Inside, Elrond noted the walls lined with Orcs, all surrounding their prisoners of war - you and Commander Galadriel. The blonde Elleths were shackled to the same post, both standing, though, you were leaning into the beam for support as it appeared you could not stand on your own. When you noted their arrival, you perked up slightly, but not enough to wash away the worry he felt.

Elrond was offered a seat, just staring down Adar, who began, "The Ring you carry... Show it to me."

Elrond snarled, "Show me the care you've taken of my wife."

"She is perfectly healthy... As you can see. The Ring, Commander..."

Elrond glared for several long minutes, then answered, "A foolish act if I had brought it here."

"You are a courtier," Adar pointed out. "More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword."

"You've never seen me wield either."

"And yet," Adar's head cocked slightly, "I have faced the Incarnated and won. Beside Sauron, there's none alive... Entitled to those rights."

Iallion demanded in a snarl, "How came you by my sister? You say you won against her - where?"

"Didn't win a fucking thing! The bastards found me; facedown in volcanic soot after the battle with the Númenoreans. I told you to keep charging - you should've kept charging," you answered, earning a swift kick to the back of your knee; making it buckle and ram the post.

"Touch her again and I'll slaughter everyone in here," Elrond threatened.

"You so much as twitch - "

"And one of your children shall kill me? My wife? My men? You think I am not aware of that fact, do you honestly think I wouldn't risk life and limb for my wife? Do not. Touch. Her."

Adar just stared at Elrond, then nodded, "Fair enough. Though, if she speaks again... Cut out her tongue."

Elrond, Iallion, and Vorohil all sat forward when Glüg's blade chimed as it was deployed from the sheath; another couple Orcs shuffling and snarling forward to box you in. Your eyes rolled when the same dagger pressed unforgivingly to the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw.

Adar continued, "Sauron is my enemy as much as yours... Give me what I need to defeat Him and let us be rid of Him."

"Is it not you that has done his bidding by laying siege to Eregion?" Elrond countered.

"Eregion has fallen into shadow... It belongs to the Deceiver now, as does every Elf within its walls."

"Not Lord Celebrimbor," your husband tried to refuted, desperate to believe there was still some good left to fight for.

"It was Celebrimbor himself who welcomed Sauron in. You cannot save him... You can...save...them," Adar explained, naturally making Elrond look to you still held at knife point. Galadriel was uncharacteristically silent, chained to the same post, facing one another. "It is an earnest offer... I suggest you take it," punctuated Adar before he rose from his chair. "And leave Sauron to me..."

"Right, 'cause that worked sooo well last time," you scoffed, making every Elven eye widen in surprised shock. "You're the reason He still lives, you're forcing us all to do your bidding and fight against Him!" When an Orc's hand rose in a sudden movement to grip your chin - intending to hold open so Glüg could amputate your tongue - you simply reacted out of panic by erratically whipping your head to the side in time to catch the Orc's hand. His pointer finger landed between your teeth, too slow on the draw; losing the finger to the single, incredible chomp as if a root vegetable.

The Orc screamed in pain, spitting the finger and causing black blood to coat your lips like sadistic make-up.

"Lord Father - "

Adar silenced Glüg with a hand in the air, the injured Orc being escorted from the tent; hissing at you in a way that made you smirk. The Father of Orcs glanced at you, demanding, "Quiet," before slowly moved around the banquet table. He complimented Elrond, "You have the beauty of your foremother, Melian of the Valar. If even a fragment of her wisdom is in your veins... You must know you cannot defeat me in battle. I will outmaneuver you... My forces outfight yours... And you will fall."

"Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black," Elrond stood to meet Adar, "with the blood of your kin."

You smirked slightly, always having faith Elrond would choose responsibility over emotion - something Galadriel was increasingly struggling with and unable to master. Glüg lowered his blade when he heard Elrond's threat - thinking this war was meant to played with strategy, not overwhelming numbers that would discard Orcish life without thought or consideration.

Adar assured, "My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud."

"Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely... Adar?" Elrond questioned, using the Uruk's name as if an insult. "Are they?" He asked the room, letting his eyes bore into those of few Orcs to truly drive his words and plant seeds of doubt.

Adar didn't respond, pausing, then demanding, "You may haggle over Galadriel... But it's the Ring for your wife's life. What is it to be?"

Elrond's eyes locked with yours, noting the way your head shook. He slowly stalked around Adar, his hand unsuspectingly unclipping the decorative detail of his cloak's shoulder broach. His teary gaze lifted to lock with yours, portraying his apology and grief, then turning to Adar, "Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours."

Orcs hissed.

"Very well," Adar accepted, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I suppose not all vows are kept sacred... I will meet you there... With your wife's head on a pike."

Elrond held Adar's attention, relenting, "If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell."

Adar's eyes shifted to Glüg's over Elrond's shoulder, the Orc assuring, "He's unarmed."

Interesting, you mused to yourself, he saw Elrond's broach but doesn't report it? Perhaps this war caused tension among their legion - beginning to question the man they followed.

After Adar's nod, Elrond turned to approach the beam in record break time. "My love," he greeted softly, tears evident and ready to spill. You both just stared at each other, unable to accept or process being within proximity to one another after being apart for so long - and only now, reunited to say goodbye. "Forgive me," Elrond whispered in Sindarin.

"Win," you answered in a matching hushed volume. "And if you don't, meet me on white shores."

He nodded, hand lifted to caress your cheek in disbelief; shuddering at the feel of your flesh. "I've missed you past the point of words, my star," he frowned.

"No more than I you."

You snuggled into his hand, stomach lurching when he leaned forward to press his final kiss to your lips. It wasn't passionate, but something chaste for show only; your chained hands reaching to hold his free one as it was all you could reach. The broach's center was pressed to your palm, your tear streaking through grimy cheeks when he pulled back to rest his forehead on yours. "I love you," he swore.

"I love you, too," you whimpered, bottom lip trembling with emotion as Adar looked to the ground. You wished to say your acting skills were that good to be truly deceptive, but in reality, something in your intuition refused to let you believe you'd survive this.

Hating the look of devastation on your otherwise devastatingly beautiful features, Elrond leaned in again before hushing against your lips, "Be ready."

"Be smart."

Elrond nodded, kissed you one last time before pulling back. Almost as if in pain, he turned, unable to handle being so close so improperly; causing him to snap, "Iallion, Vorohil," who flanked his tail upon their exit of the Uruk tent.

You sniffled, leaning on the beam in exhaustion, still playing into the facade you thought Elrond was trying to silently communicate. You weren't defeated yet; the pin kept in your clenched fist to cause indentations from the star-point design.

Outside, Iallion and Vorohil questioned Elrond's confidence, being told a legion of Dwarves had been summoned to march to Eregion's aid; telling his second to guide the army to the battle while he held the city. Before trotting away, Elrond pulled on his helmet and told the two in Sindarin, "And it starts with the rescue of my wife and decimation of this camp."

You used Elrond's pin to pick Galadriel's lock first, insisting she had to flee before anyone caught you. She tried to refuse, something about loyalty or other, but you all but shoved her away from you and snarled for her to leave you.

"Elrond's near," you reminded her, "I'm not going anywhere."

"He's coming for you," she realized.

"Did you have any doubt?"

She chuckled, "I suppose not."

"Get out of here," you cocked your head, indicating she flee out the tent flap. You focused on your own lock as the sounds of invasion echoed around the camp. Praying Galadriel found a way to disguise herself, you struggled to unlock your irons; hearing someone rush into the tent behind you.

"You!"

An Orc was surging up to you in record time, bloody dagger in hand, twisted snarl curling his lip. You dropped the pin on accident, unable to retrieve it; but having enough mind to wait until the Orc was a foot from you, stepping back, extending your chains. The Orc slashed directly into the weakened metal, severing your bond, but the loss of tension made you flop backwards; rolling over your shoulder and onto your feet.

The Orc, ever graceful, hacked wildly at you; forcing you to go on the defense and dodge his attacks around the tent. Three more Orcs filed in; but however you might argue, luck was on your side for your brother, Iallion, came charging in with your sister, Eliriel.

"Y/N!"

You caught the sword your brother tossed, slashing the offending Orc's head from his shoulders as your siblings disposed of the other three enemies with ease.

Realizing the Orcs were vanquished (for now), you turned to your brother and raced into his embrace. He grunted and caught you, petting the back of your head before releasing and letting you hug your sister.

"Do you need medial aid?" Eliriel asked in worry, pushing hair from your shoulders to expose flesh - checking for any injury or bloody blemish.

"No - "

"Can you fight?"

"The day I answer no, you've permission to put me in the ground yourself," you scoffed, nodding at your brother. "You came back?"

"Elrond's leading the charge, they're razing the camp," Iallion explained, "otherwise he would've come himself."

"Where is he?"

"Come, we can find him," he insisted, eyes raking over you. "Sure you're all right?"

"Never better," you chuckled without humor, intent on holding the horrors you've experienced at the hands of your captors close to your chest. "Now, we gonna stand here and talk or go hunt some Orc?"

"YES!"

The Incarnated swarmed together in a protection fashion around you; a sibling shield, if you would, due to your lack of armor. Individually, the Incarnated were almost impossible to defeat, but together, they rivaled armies; exactly as the Valar intended. However, while fearsome in battle, you were still but a few and the Orcs were a grand-many; almost easily overwhelming any Elf they encountered.

Exactly why you were separated from them.

You faced against four different foes, turning as if dancing steps to something intimate; blade flashing in the sunlight, ringing as it clanged against blackened blades and rusted armor. It was easy to cut off your retreat or direction back to your siblings, forcing you back several yards as the Orcs swiftly closed in.

"Y/N! DUCK!" You heard from behind you; not thinking, just dropping like a sack of potatoes.

Horse hooves passed you, looking up in time to defend against another blade as Elrond engaged the others. You were both fairing decently until a moment of distraction - where an Orc swung his axe into Elrond's chest and knocked him from his horse - leaving an opportunity for your attacker.

With a scream, the Orc's blade sliced your chest in a deep slashing, managing to cut into your neck; blood starting to stream into your torn and tattered prison clothes. You were blinded by stinging pain, whimpering as your non-dominant arm curled across your chest as if gauze to lay over the injury; dominant hand occupied by your sword, defending yourself with weak whimpers.

One final hack made your sword arm collapse into the ground and for the Orc to stomp on your wrist to hold you there. You were pinned. The Orc laughed and sadistically reached down to swipe a grimy finger into your wound, causing you to hiss through teeth, only to lift his finger to his mouth and taste your life force. The sight alone made your stomach lurch, a panicked cry escaping your lips.

Elrond heard the enemy's laugh and lifted his head in time to see it lick your blood; noting your cry and position beneath the Orc. His face steeled into something beyond infuriation. The three Orcs that filled the space between you and he were quickly dispatched, Elrond engaging your attacker - letting you scramble backwards into a tree trunk for a front row viewing.

With a wild swing, Elrond swiped at the Orc; who reached up to grab hold of his helmet, which was freed when Elrond rolled from under him. The Orc swung, blade whistling; catching Elrond's cheek and sending him to the dirt, much to your worry. He glared at the enemy, wiping at his injury as the Orc growled, "I'm gonna spill her guts at your feet, Elf!"

Elrond's eyes flickered to you, taking the threat as credible; swiping the sword away, using a second blade to inflict injury before driving his longsword into the Orc's belly - driving him backwards into the basket of a trebuchet (or catapult). When pinned, Elrond drove his dagger into the Orc's sternum; leering over him in Sindarin, "Die."

Elrond yanked both weapons free and turned for the machine's mechanisms; yanking a rope and setting the trebuchet into motion. "No, no, no, no," the Orc begged when he realized what was happening; lifted off his feet only to be flung with the basket of rocks through the air, over the width of the Glanduin, and into the walls of Eregion.

Your husband wasted no time to drop the rope and turn for you; rushing forward and sliding to his knees beside your bleeding form. "Elrond, oh, my stars," you rushed with a bloody grin, reaching for him with your dominate hand as the other still tried to staunch your injury.

"I knew you weren't gone, I knew it," he breathed, taking your face in hand, "I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry. I should've come sooner - "

"You got here right when you were supposed to," you assured, sniffling. "Have you - Have you seen Galadriel? I set her free, have you seen her?"

"Why was she not with you?"

"I sent her away, I wasn't sure how long I'd take to escape," you trembled, "then Iallion and Eliriel got me out."

"Why didn't you run?"

"I did..."

"No, away from the battle - "

"I ran to find you," you whispered, offering a sad smile. "Oh," you breathed, fingertip ghosting over his cut cheek, "that'll scar."

"It's nothing," he shook his head, "but yours isn't - I have to get you away from here - "

"There's no time," you rushed, "so, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

You swallowed thickly, "Clean your blade, put it in the fire."

Elrond's brows furrowed, glancing over his shoulder to see the trebuchet set ablaze by his men; the Orcs fleeing from the danger, leaving a rare opening. "I don't... Oh," his eyes widened, nodding and rushing to do as you bid. He cleaned his blade on his cloak as he sprinted to the burning machine; sticking his blade in, then returning to your side. "Can you stand?" He asked.

"If you can get me up," you nodded.

"C'mon, love," Elrond whispered, hands under your arms and hoisting you up the bark with a small grunt. "I've got you - "

"Elrond!"

He didn't think, just gripped the blade of his dagger and flung it in a fluid motion over his shoulder where you were staring. The weapon struck an approaching Orc in the throat; gurgling black blood as he went down, but Elrond didn't even bother to watch. He just returned his attention to you, "C'mere, starlight, I've got you."

"Commander!" A different voice shouted, your siblings rushing to the scene. Iallion, as the eldest, gave command to the others, "Circle - circle up! Get around them!" As the Incarnated surrounded you, Elrond was assisting you towards the flames. "Commander, orders, sir?"

"Stand guard," Elrond replied, easing you to your knees. "All right, my love," he paused, checking the blade, "think it's good?"

You nodded, "It's good. Just, uh... Aim, please."

He huffed, "As if I'd miss." He pulled his sword fully from the flames, the thin metal burning bright red; even sizzling subtly. "Ready?"

"Wait, wait," Eliriel bartered, finding a chunk of wood and placing it in your mouth. She lowered to her knees and hooked her arms around yours; restraining them behind your back in a vice. "Okay... Okay, good - do it, do it now, Elrond!" She begged, seeing blood flow a little more freely now that you weren't trying to plug the wound.

When your husband lowered the blade to your injury, you lost consciousness after screaming blood murder until air depleted from your lungs. The flesh was cauterized as cleanly as Elrond could manage, satisfied when he noted no weeping openings.

"Commander! What orders, Commander!?"

Elrond was torn between his wife and his company - but Iallion encouraged, "Go, brother. We'll get her somewhere safe."

With a scoff, Elrond shook his head and carefully pulled the wood from your mouth; gathering you off your sister and into his chest. "Where's safe anymore?" Elrond asked rhetorically in Sindarin, standing with you in his arms.

The camp was in complete disarray, Adar realizing the Elven Calvary had destroyed nearly everything in their path, almost to a barbaric extent. He would've questioned the displayed Elven bravery, but his mind knew better and reminded him he threatened Commander Elrond's wife... No wonder the camp was stamped into the ground.

The sun sank, darkness spread, and Adar listened to report after report, all confirming the Elves were fairing better than expected. Many Uruk lost their lives, more were injured, and the Orcs were encountering outmaneuvers no matter where they attacked.

Adar returned to the tent he left you and Galadriel in... Finding empty irons, no prisoners, and several of his children - dead. There was no confirmation as to who the wounds were from, but considering the swift yet strategically fatal injuries, he assumed the Incarnated had come to your rescue. Death was only graceful when dealt by their hands.

"Perhaps, Lord Father," Glüg reported, "we should sound the retreat. The Commander Elrond is formidable, angry over his wife's injuries..."

"No," Adar refused.

"He slaughtered half the camp to find her!"

"We do not retreat," Adar growled, making his son shy back a step. "Send him in..."

"He will kill our own kind!"

"Send. Him. In. Commander Elrond is on the battlefield, his wife smuggled away - "

"His wife is on the field, Lord Father! Khor saw her," Glüg gestured at his brother, who nodded vigorously at Adar.

"All the more reason... Send him in."

After your wound was cauterized, Elrond managed to find a horse and rush you a safe distance into the woods with Eliriel to guard you. Upon awakening, you were stiff with pain, but infuriated by the obvious delay in consciousness; rolling to your feet and testing the bounds of the near-fatal, scabbing wound.

"You can't go," Eliriel insisted, watching you stretch, "you'll tear open - "

"Adar kept me alive just enough for this moment, I have business to settle with him. I've been on the sidelines too long, sister," you snapped, "and injured or not, I will not leave Eregion to the darkness. There's still a chance - our people still fight. Will you join us? Or shall you turn tail, as our uncle did? Demote yourself?"

Your uncle, another Incarnated, had been a member of the original alliance of Elves against Sauron; one of the first to leave Valinor on a noble quest to Middle-earth. He was one of the reasons your kin had been blessed, but he's also the reason you know what happens if Incarnated refuse their Holy Calling... Facing Morgoth's apprentice was traumatizing beyond belief, your uncle leading alongside Galadriel's brother, Finrod, in many abattle. Yet Sauron's craft was vast, weaseling into your uncle's heart and brain to the point of insanity; so much so, that upon your uncle going AWOL, Finrod was slain in response.

Galadriel never blamed you nor other Incarnated; she blamed only Sauron, rationalizing he was who fucked up your uncle's head so much that the Valar took back their gift. A forfeited Incarnated was gazed upon with utter contempt until driven into exile, and even then, they aren't immediately granted immunity nor entrance into Aman, - or the Undying Lands - but instead, must plead for redemption. Needless to say, your uncle gave your kin quiet a public mess to rectify and it was a grave insult to throw such an accusation at an Incarnated.

"Sister?" You prompted.

From the dirt, Eliriel nodded and reached for your hand; allowing you to heave her onto her feet. "You'll need armor - do not argue!" She snapped with a pointed finger when your mouth opened. "Come."

Eliriel lead you through the woods at a mild pace as to not irritate your injury. Using the darkness to your advantage, you snuck around until happening upon a fallen Elleth who was about your size and body type. Swiftly, you took her armor with a prayer in Sindarin, securing it, then latching on her weapons belt.

"Ready?" You asked, seeing Eliriel nod. "Stay close."

"I'm older than you!"

"Then act like it!" You laughed over your shoulder, sprinting from the treeline and directly towards the fray taking place before Eregion's walls. You snatched a full quiver from a dead Elf, not stopping; plucking up an abandoned bow, still surging; then snatching whatever spent torch-arrows you could, doubly determined.

Blood transformed impacted dirt into a marsh; bodies littering the land, a city on fire, and Death permeating the air. Your sword sang with glee at each blow; injury holding strong, giving you fuller permission to move as you needed. When you raced into battle, you were an entirely different breed; purely animalistic, relying on your senses to cause the most damage. All you could process was you needing to kill.

You happened to be in the right place at the right time because just yards ahead of you, several jagged arrows thumped into your comrade, Rían's, body at varying angles. She swayed and dropped to her knees, revealing ahead of her, a small gaggle of Elves - Elrond included. Rían reached for a torch arrow as you noted the barrel of oil by the Grond and quickly connected the dots.

It was as if the Valar arranged it themself: where one Elf fell, an Incarnated steps up to assume responsibility without hesitation nor prompt. Three additional arrows struck Rían, who fell dead, and there you stood; causing your name to fall from your husband's mouth and for you to spring into action. Without hesitation, you ignite your own arrow, notch it, aim, then release before rushing towards Elrond; seven arrows impalied the place you vacated. "What're you doing here!? It's not safe!" Elrond demanded when you lowered to his level behind a barrier of dirt.

Your arrow found it's mark, catching the entire Grond and surrounding Orcs in a violently gnarly explosion. You smirked at your husband, anchoring him by his neck to place a desperate, messy, slippery kiss to his lips. On retraction, there came a loud, wet smooch sound; you nodding and answering, "Winning a war."

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist