#thank you both for posting and saying as well as for offering a moment where I can pepersonally have a quiet laugh

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tin Soldier

Gwayne returns from Rook's Rest to King's Landing where his wife has been patiently waiting for him, knowing he would need stress relief.

Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, pwp idk what to tell you, ok nvm porn with feelings, gwaynes BRATTY, smut (piv, bdsm, pet play??, biting, marking, scratching), fluff can you believe that, typos, etc.

A/N: inspired by this post. i wish @barbieaemond and @targs-on-zorses a very much i hope you suffer

"Oh, praise the gods," I mutter under my breath once I spot the two knights entering through gates of the Keep. I dismiss my handmaiden and head towards them.

Gwayne and Criston spot me, the former's hardened face softens. I offer them a smile and clasp my hands, "very good. The Mother has delivered you whole." I nod in regard, "ser Criston."

The said man nods, "my-"

"You would greet another man before your husband, woman?"

I turn to Gwayne. His jaw clenches. I hold back a grin and pucker my lower lip instead, "I only wished to thank the Hand for returning my love to me with no missing limbs."

He scoffs. His horse trots in place. Gwayne does not enjoy that. He very much did not enjoy that.

"I should thank your husband for doing the same for me, my lady," Criston replies, making me turn back to him.

I smile. Gwayne dismounts. "Then I rejoice in knowing you both will return safely so long as you have each other."

A stable boy comes to get my husband's ride. He spares me no glance when he walks passed me. I turn to my feet with a chuckle, rubbing my belly that bubbled in excitement, "welcome home, ser." We share a nod before I chase after my lord.

He is walking incredibly fast.

I gather my skirts, "my lord!"

Gwayne does not stop. He only continues to storm to our shared chambers. When he reaches the stairs, I break into a sprint, laughing as I did, "lord husband!"

Needless to say, my calls fall deaf on his ears. I have to catch my breath once I enter the room.

"RETURN ME?!"

I close the door behind me, eyes not leaving my armored lover as he paces around the room. My breath hitches at the sight of him. Oh, how I missed the clanking of his steel uniform.

Gwayne turns back to me, pointing a harsh finger to the ground, "WOULD THAT I BE THE ONE RETURNED-

My eyes sparkle at his vexed expression.

"OH! IF YOU ONLY KNEW HOW COLE WAS-"

I reach for his breastplate, "twas a jest."

"Well, you jest wrongly," he glares, swatting my hands away. I press my lips together to suppress my smile. He charges towards the vanity, "you now not how insufferable that Dornishman is."

He begins to undo the cuffs on his forearm. Oh, by the Seven, he was actually upset. He never removed his own armor, not when I was present. I sigh, "Gwayne-"

"Do not-" he pulls roughly on his sleeve "-address me, woman."

I purse my lips and grab his shoulder plate. He shrugs me off dramatically and I reel back in momentary shock, only to huff and grab him by his steely collar.

He glares at me.

I raise my brows, mouth opening to start a new argument. But his face, marked with hurt, though dramatic, makes my heart tinge. I decide not to pursue it.

He recognizes this and lifts his nose. His brows quirk in challenge.

I tilt my head and sigh, "begging your pardon, my lord," I brush my hands down to the sigil on his heart, "tis distasteful to speak on matters I know not of."

Gwayne stares at me for a moment. I peer at him through my lashes, absentmindedly drawing shapes on his chest, "I submit. I wish not to quarrel."

He does not reply, but he visibly relaxes, save for the way his brows knit, "my lips."

My eyes fall to his mouth where a cut laid on the bottom corner, "yes. You've been cut." I pull away to grab some ointment for it, "we shall treat your lip again after your bath."

He watches as I go through the vials on the table. Just as I open the lid of the salve, I feel his rigid body press against my back. I look over my shoulder, gazing up at his face as he embraces me.

"You have not kissed them," he mutters, "you insult me twice, wife."

Oh, what darling. I pretend to think, "I thought I was woman."

"Wrong again," he takes the vial from me, setting it down with little attention. He turns me around and traps me against the vanity, "my woman."

He wastes no more time keeping our lips separate. Gwayne picks me by the waist and sits me on the table as his lips reacquaint themselves with mine. My body melts against him, my legs part to welcome him between and my hands sneak their way into his nape.

He pulls away, "damn this helmet."

I giggle but stop him when he tries to rid himself of it. He raises a brow then sighs, "not again."

"What?" I laugh innocently, "it suits you well."

He shakes his head but makes no further move to rid himself of his steel hat. He does however begin to bunch my skirts up. I mumble, "my tin soldier."

He groans. "Perhaps I'll fuck you in my helmet, vixen," he wraps my legs around him, "see how you like it."

I gleefully retort, "so long as you fuck me, ser-" he begins to kiss my neck, "I will be- OH!"

Gwayne sharply pulls away, face concerned.

I cover my mouth with my hands, "I'd nearly forgotten!"

He can do nothing but watch as I wrangle out of our position and shoo him away. He grumbles as I go through a drawer, "I got you a gift."

"Must you give it to me now?"

I laugh and turn back to him once I have it in my hand, "I find you will regret it if I do not give it to you sooner."

His brow quirks in interest.

I grin and motion with my head, "to the bed with you."

Gwayne is sat on the side of the bed in an instant. He eagerly looks at me. I saunter over with a look of mischief. His eyes widen when I kneel by his feet. At this point, he knew exactly what my surprise was and he simply reaches a hand out to me.

I place a bell in his palm. Gwayne releases a deep breath that breaks into an excited chuckle, "oh, my girl, you might regret this."

I simply look at him with a smile.

He stares at me, knowing then that our game had started. His lips part infinitesimally as he basks in the power he now had. He rings the bell, "you may speak your mind, pet."

"Thank you, ser."

Gwayne rings it again, "get me out of this fucking armor."

"Yes, ser," I say, coming to my feet to undo his top. I feel his eyes on me as I do so.

He releases a breath, hands coming to my side, "I have free rein on your body, do I not?"

"Of course, ser."

"Mmm," he rubs my ass then smacks it, "strip for me," he rings the bell.

I turn to him, "after I-"

"Now," he blurts.

I pull away from him and begin to undo the ties of my dress. It is a slight struggle but not impossible. Once my dress drops to the floor and I'm left in my shift, he rings his bell, "stop."

I still where I stand.

"And your smallclothes," he rings.

I oblige, pulling them and letting them drop to the floor. He reaches a hand out, ringing again, "come to me."

I take his hand and he spreads his legs. I sit on his lap and he rings, "you may proceed, pet."

I continue to undo his armor, "of course, ser."

Ring. "Kiss me as you do so."

I do not speak, only follow the command. I kiss him intermittently as I finally remove a shoulder plate. It is considerably harder to do than undoing my dress because of all the latches. I decide to prioritize undressing him, but it seems that was a mistake.

He snakes his hand up my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh, "my lips are wanting yours, pet."

"I am doing my best, se-"

"Well, try harder."

Gwayne thoroughly enjoys my struggle and unabashedly complains when I am not kissing him. I begin to grow increasingly frustrated when I prioritize kissing him yet finds it in him to complain about how hot his armor is. At some point, I begin throwing the metal I do get off him angrily to the ground.

His chuckle is deep, "careful, pet. That is your lord's armor."

"Fuck your armor," I grunt, chucking his cuffs to the floor.

He laughs and licks his lips.

"I was given permission to speak my mind, was I not? I mutter, sliding off his lap to undo the cuffs on his legs.

"I did not give you leave to leave my lap," he stares at me.

I glare at him and sit back down. He examines me for a moment, rings his bell, and chirps, "get off."

I sigh and stand.

"Uh-ta-ta-ta-ta," he grabs my arm and raises a finger. He looks up at me, shrugging, "what do we say?"

I suck in a breath and force a smile, "of course, ser. Thank you, ser."

"Good," he raises the bell before ringing it, "proceed."

I drop to my knees and continue to rid him of his wretched armor. He brushes my hair back and rubs my lips, "indeed again, you you are not kissing me."

I huff, looking up at him. His eyes sparkle as I say, "a thousand apologies, ser." I attempt to do the impossible, kissing him while undoing the cuffs on his shins. Amazingly, I eventually complete the task and do so with another huff.

Gwayne rings his bell and knocks on his helmet, "you missed one, pet."

I sit on his lap and place my hands on his shoulders. He watches me as I frown. I look at him pleadingly but he allows me no satisfaction. I have no choice but to take his helmet off. He snakes an arm around me, "hard, that one, was it?"

I place his helmet on the night stand and kiss him, "I wish to please my lord."

He smirks, "then shall you be rewarded." He carelessly chucks the bell behind him, causing me gasp, "Gwayne!"

"I enjoyed our little game but find I no longer have the patience for it," he grabs my thighs and turns me on him.

"That's why we keep losing the bell, you keep throwing it!"

"Fuck the bell," he quips, making me straddle him, "I want to fuck my wife."

The next thing I know, my dress is being ripped off and he's hastily undoing his breeches. I cannot help my laugh as I shift atop him to free himself, and once he is, I grind on his hardened cock, making him grit his teeth. I bask in the feel of him after removing his shirt. By the gods, how I've missed the feel of his chest on my palms.

He allows me to dote on his scars and freckles. I could weep at his beauty. He then sinks his head into the crook of my neck and I wrap my arms around him.

"My wife," he licks a stripe to my jaw, "I dream about your skin."

I brush my fingers up his hair and tug gently, "Gwyane."

"I miss your taste," he mutters in between kisses. He tightens his hold on me, "I miss your taste, miss your skin, miss your lips, my love," he rakes his fingers up my back, "did you miss me?"

I moan as I sink myself down on him. He squeezes my shoulders and drops his jaw.

I grab his cheeks and press our foreheads together, "missed you so much— missed your touch, missed having you inside me, missed your smart mouth."

He chuckles and kisses me, "missed yours." Gwayne begins to buck into me, arms tight around my waist.

I grunt and bring his face into my chest, throwing my head back as I ride him. He sucks on my skin, intent to leave evidence of him on me. I tangle my fingers into his hair then pepper kisses on his forehead. He smelled of sweat and dirt and ash; I relish every bit of him.

I whimper when he sinks his teeth into the side of my throat before suckling. I clench around him in response. I pull his hair and speak his name. He replies with a moan, grazing me with his teeth once more.

My riding becomes harder. The sound of our breath and the utterance of each other's names mingle with the creak of the bed and the wet sound of slapping skin. He grabs my hips, flesh spilling between his fingers, and bites his nails into me. He huffs, guiding me into faster and rougher pace.

I lean my forehead on his once more, darting my tongue to his lips. He chases my tongue, catching it between his teeth, then does the same to my lips. I whimper when I taste blood. He licks the iron off and trails kisses to my ear, "come on my cock, baby, want you to come with me."

I whimper out and nod, "Gwayne."

"Come on," he mutters, "come, my love."

Pressure builds inside me, and we soon both grow erratic. There is a thick silence before guttural cries reverberate through the room. My body comes alive. The thick, hot, pleasure is so intense my breath is knocked out of my lungs and I quickly feel myself seize up.

My husband, ever dutiful, sinks his nails into my thighs and fucks out every last bit of the melting sensation from the both of us. A hoarse noise rips from my throat and makes my toes curl into my soles. Gwayne even overcompensates and plows into me until I'm reeling. I knew it was too much for him too, and so I supply him with the shaky whimpers I knew he desperately craves.

I feel lightheaded by the time he stops. He rests his head on me before finally collapsing on his back, taking me down with him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, our skin now sticky with sweat.

His hands rest on my thighs. I bring mine to both his shoulders. I pant against his jaw, "that was intense."

He hums, "well," he huffs, "you missed me too much."

"No," I nuzzle into his neck and draw shapes on his skin, "you missed me too much."

He brushes his nose against my head, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I didn't miss you at all."

"Good. I didn't miss you either."

He rubs my skin, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Out of nowhere, he whines in a high pitched voice, "OH Gwayne- OH! You feel so gOOD- AH AH-"

I swat him and with a dropped jaw. I lift my head and glare at him, "I did NOT say that!"

Gwayne's eyes fall on me, lips pursing. He brings one arm behind his head and takes the other to my cheek. My belly flutters at the sight of him. He was beautiful like this, shining after our love making. His rough thumb rubs my face, "pity." He brushes my hair back, "I'm going to have to fix that."

I roll my eyes at him but I am unable to fight back my smile.

He smiles back. His eyes soften and his voice is careful, "... did you miss me, my love?"

"Gods," I nearly roll my eyes at the back of my head, "oh, my sweet boy. My sweet pathetic boy who I so terribly missed."

He grins. The lines by on his cheeks only deepen when he laughs.

My stomach rolls again. I speak in earnest, capturing his cheek, "every day, I thank the Seven that I bask in your beauty."

Gwayne's eyes rove over me. He rubs my arm, "we should have another babe."

I scoff, "Gwayne-"

[moonstruckme]

Heyyy there! I really (like really) love your writing!!! It makes my day when I see you've posted a fic! I was wondering if I could request one either with doc!remus or emtxmaradeurs where the reader is very sick and kinda out of it and she's taken care of. Like maybe he/them asking her 'are you with me/us' becuase it looks like you're going to pass out. If you've written something like this before my apologies. Have a great day!!!

Thanks lovely, hope you have a great day as well!

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 670 words

When Remus and James get home from their shift, they find you and Sirius curled up on the couch, you with a mug of what appears to be noodle soup steaming in your hands. You’re taking sips of it like it’s tea. 

“Hello,” says Remus, perching on the armrest to peck his boyfriend on the head. “You two aren’t where we left you.” 

“One can only lie around in bed for so many hours,” Sirius replies, tilting his head back for a real kiss. Remus gives him one, and Sirius takes another for himself. “I’m very entertaining, but after a while we both needed a change of scenery.” 

“And why is our girl drinking soup like a warm beverage?” James directs the question towards you, but you don’t seem to notice. After a moment, Sirius answers for you. 

“She wasn’t doing very well with the spoon, and though I made some excellent points about how romantic it’d be, she wouldn’t let me feed it to her.” Sirius grins salaciously at you. You offer only a faint smile in return, and he squishes your thigh in his hand teasingly. “Eventually we had to compromise on a more innovative solution.” 

“I see.” James ducks his head, finding his way into your field of vision. “Sweetheart,” he says carefully, “are you with us?” 

You blink. Your eyes look fever glazed. “Yeah.” You match his gentle tone. “Hi.” 

He smiles softly. “Hey there. You seemed a bit far away, m’love.” 

“She’s only tired.” Sirius kisses the side of your head. “We’ve just had a nap.”

“Oh, must be nice,” James jokes. You smile in response. 

Remus frowns pensively as he plays with Sirius’ hair where it’s draped over the edge of the couch. It spills through his fingers like stygian water. “What’s her fever at?” he asks. 

“It’s coming down.” Sirius nods to the fever reducers sitting next to a half-empty bottle of cough syrup on the coffee table. “We’re working on it.” 

“What was it last you checked?” James presses, but Remus has already picked up the thermometer. He murmurs a quiet direction to you as he nestles it in your ear.

“Her cough’s gotten a lot better, too, if you haven’t noticed,” Sirius says proudly. “Right, babydoll? We haven’t been having many problems since the last time she had medicine.” 

That’s not saying much, James thinks as he looks around. There are still wadded up tissues strewn about the coffee table, enough that he wonders whether one of them ought to go buy more before you all get ready for bed, and even if your cough has abated the scrape of your voice indicates your throat still feels like you’ve swallowed knives. 

Still, he tries to sound upbeat as he says, “Yeah? That’s great,” and kisses your shoulder lightly. 

“I can see why you’re so tired,” Remus says. The thermometer beeps, and his brow pinches sympathetically as he reads the screen. “That nap was the first good sleep you’ve had in a while, hm, dovey?” 

“Yeah,” you say, your voice a thin rasp. “I still have to turn over every now and then when my nose clogs up, though.” 

“Poor love,” James coos, kissing your shoulder again. “I’m about to have a shower, would you want to sit in the bathroom with me and see if the steam does anything? I could use the company.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Remus agrees. “After you’ve finished your soup, though.” 

You give James a sweet, thoughtful look. “That would be nice,” you say. The sound of your voice makes him want to burst into tears. “Thank you guys for taking care of me.” 

Sirius makes an indignant squawking sound. “Um, that’s actually been me, in case you’ve forgotten. These two only just got here.” 

“Sorry.” You crack a smile, sleepy but real, and lean your head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Thank you the most.” 

He hums, quickly pacified, and lets his head rest atop yours. “Apology accepted. Luckily for you, I actually quite enjoy it.”

[elronds-meleth-nin]

A Brush With...Kindness?

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

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Reader

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Well, that made sense.

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

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

"But...you are–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice was infinitely gentler than it had been before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gently, I laid my hands over his.

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

"Then, welcome to Mordor, híril vuin."

--

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

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

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

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

And Adar found himself growing ever more intrigued by her.

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

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

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

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

Had their encounter truly been that memorable to her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least he could fix this for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adar would have to speak with him about that.

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'My station,' my lord?"

A slow smile stretched his lips.

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

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

"A-At your right hand?"

He nodded his head in confirmation.

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adar sat up straighter and drew in a sharp breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, my lord."

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shook his head quietly.

"There was no fault in your diction."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you enjoy riding horses?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My lord!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She tilted her head curiously.

"What might that be?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Could she...?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who needed Valinor when she was its very embodiment?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

[3amfanfiction]

You wrote this about Simon: “At this lieutenant, already chewed up and spit out by the world. More scars than skin at this point. You wonder how many people only see the scars and not the shivering body underneath it, waiting for a soft touch.”

I’d LOVE to read more of this - i wanna be the one to offer him the soft touch he wants so badly, maaaan! He’s just so big n’ strong but i want to let him curl up against me while i pet him until he stops shivering

This came through at the perfect time. I had the desire to write but I was picking at all my wips half heartedly bc none of the them were what I wanted.

But this? This I wanted.

So thank you again and please enjoy 1.5k words of acclimatizing Simon to soft touches.

<33

Ask referencing this post.

~~~~

He scared you, the first time you saw him.

Not because of how big he was (tall, thick, muscular) or the look in his eyes (cold, dismissive, too watchful), not even because of the scars themselves (numerous, expansive, tragic).

It was because you knew any interaction would come across as a threat. He had that look in his eyes that said he'd seen the worst of what the world had to offer and he persisted through luck and spite equally. Now he was sat in front of you, too disciplined to let his skin shiver but hating being seen. Hating that you were looking.

When you met him it was through a friend of a friend sort of thing. One of your friends was seeing a Scottish boy and invited you out for drinks with them. You had no reason to say no so you found yourself sitting at a high-top doing your best not to bother the man sitting quietly to your right.

His gruff, Simon, during introductions was the only thing he had said in the last hour, content to sit quietly and watch. Almost outside of the group even though he was sitting at the same table. You made sure to include him when you were speaking to the group, your eyes darting to each person as you spoke, not leaving anyone out. But you made sure to never direct a hard question at him that required an answer. It was all, I bet you never have a problem seeing over the crowd. or I'll grab everyone a drink while I'm up or Sorry, I'll be out of your space in a moment, my jacket was getting a little warm.

He would look at you. Every time you spoke to him he wouldn't shy away from eye contact but that was where his involvement ended. Never a head nod or shake, never a verbal answer.

By the end of the night you were positive he didn't like you. He didn't dis-like you but he didn't like you, you were pretty sure. That was okay though. You'd done your best not to infringe on his space, not wanting to step on his toes. You thought you had done a good job all around and put it out of your mind, the interaction over and done with and no longer needing to be reviewed.

What you never realized was Simon's shoulders lowered a whole inch throughout the course of the night.

\\\

You called your friend out on the number of times she invited you to hang out with Johnny and Simon, flat out asking if she and Johnny were trying to set you and Simon up through subtle double-dating.

"No!" She leaned forward grabbing your hand, her eyes looking earnestly into yours, "I promise it's not like that. Johnny told me he's pretty much all Simon has. Well, their team is. So they're always together when they're home. I don't want Simon to feel like a third wheel or left out or anything."

And you believed her. This was one of her strong suits, always looking out for others. That's probably why you two got along so well, a pair of givers, the both of you. And she had a point. The idea of Simon sitting awkwardly with the other two as his only companions made something twist in your stomach. You didn't want that for him.

So you kept seeing Simon and you kept doing your best to give him space but include him at the same time. You were shocked the first day he spoke to you but the fact that it was a bad joke made a sort of perfect sense.

"What's the best way to carve wood?"

You looked over at him in shock that this was what he chose to break the ice with. At the same time you were delighted and you couldn't help but feel giddy at the prospect of Simon telling you a joke. A bad one by the sound of it.

"How?"

"Whittle by whittle."

"That was absolutely terrible."

He smiled to himself if his eye crinkles had anything to say about it. That giddy feeling bubbling up inside you was getting unsettlingly big right about now. You looked at the ground and bit your lip to keep from a cheesy grin of your own breaking out.

Before you knew it he had no problem speaking to you. While never particularly verbose, he would respond to comments directed towards him, offer his opinion if options were offered, and kept telling awful jokes.

You were hopelessly charmed.

You broke your own rules and reached for him first.

You were sat next to him on a bench, the sun setting and the evening air cooling further. He had told you another one of his god-awful jokes when you unthinkingly swatted out with your hand, brushing his arm. His muscles jumped and his arm tensed right before you made contact as if bracing for a hit. An involuntary reaction to someone reaching for him. It was a horrifying realization.

You sobered quickly and your chuckle died off awkwardly. You turned to face forward, looking out at the street, watching for any sign of your friend or Johnny who had stepped into the store for a quick moment leaving you and Simon to find a bench while you waited. You hoped that if you didn't draw attention to it then your faux pas would pass unmentioned.

You let out a relieved sigh when Simon continued with another comment, not taking your overstepping to heart. By the time the other two had rejoined you the whole situation was forgotten, water under the bridge. You didn't think of it again until it was the end of the night with everyone about to go their separate ways.

When you said goodbye to Simon he said it back, reaching out to brush his hand down your arm in return in almost the exact same spot as where you'd touched him earlier.

Your heart skipped a beat before picking up a double pace. You couldn't help but beam at him, a wide grin splitting your face even as he grunted and turned away, likely embarrassed by your show of emotion.

Today had been a good day after all.

You thought you had ruined it for a moment there, thankful when Simon seemed to brush past it. You hadn't expected him to reciprocate in the same manner though.

Maybe he really did like hanging out with you. You never doubted it for a second.

\\\

It took time–a slow steady build to where you ended up, curled up on the couch together with Simon laying on top of you. You both had your tops off to bask in a little skin-to-skin time.

You'd been together for a few months at this point and it was like night and day to compare him to the Simon you met all that time ago. This one couldn't keep his hands off you to save his life. It was a slow warm-up to get past his walls in a way that wasn't upsetting to either of you. Soft touches that slowly built, leading to hand holding, to hugging, to kissing, to this.

You dragged your fingers slowly up his back, fingertips catching on raised scar tissue before continuing on, ever moving. He hummed into the crook of your neck where he had buried his face when you switched from fingertips to nails, gently scratching the skin.

You loved spending time like this, feeling Simon melt into you, eager for every touch he could get. If you were sitting still and Simon was in the vicinity you could bet that he would be pressed against your side before too much time had passed. Eager for the soft caresses you always had for him.

He was starved for touch and you wanted to feed him.

So you offered, again and again in the beginning–most times with no luck, to let him touch you. On the couch watching TV? Your arms would open, inviting a hug when he walked by. At the table? Your head was tilting up for a kiss if he wanted one. Passing each other in the hallway? You'd raise your hand and hold it in front of you, letting him press his big barrel chest into your palm if he wanted.

It was a slow acclimatization that brought you to today and the taste was all the sweeter for the time you had poured into it.

You lifted a hand to drag it through the spiky hairs at the back of his head, enjoying his groan of contentment. It sounded like he was already halfway asleep and you knew you wouldn't be leaving this spot for a while.

Might as well settle in and get comfortable. You familiarized him to gentle touches, now he was insatiable for them. He would be consuming them from you greedily for as long as you offered.

[evilminji]

Oh... oh no it's all coming together ( o.o)

Ya'll remember my Danny haunts Space Games post?

That but MORE SO. Harder. Like... ZONE GAME DEVELOPER PASSION PROJECT harder. Because? Special Interest chemicals go brrrrr~☆

And you KNOW... you absolutely FUCKING KNOW! That Danny was minding his business, going about his life, hyped as FUCK for the new Space Game 5 (a niche game but so what? It has REALISTIC physics! It's set on THE MOON!).

Has NOT stopped rambling on about it.

Been driving everyone insane, because it won't be out for MONTHS.

When~?

Youngblood, probably, goes "So what? That sound BORING. There barely anything to DO in that! Not like one of OUR Super Cool ZONE Video Games™. OURS are way better! And we gave LOADS more options then THAT! Now can we get back to-"

Freeze frame, record scratch.

Wait. WHAT!?

Danny is violently answers out of that eternal child faster then you can say "Dude! Chill!" Got them manic Obsession Eyes. Oops. Youngblood forgot Danny is Space Obsessed. But also PROTECTION Obsessed. Meaning he can't LEAVE where he is protecting.

You know.... FOR SPACE.

He needs a work around to feed his Obsession. Video games do it. Since he can go INTO them, but leave at a moments notice, if trouble happens. It's like being both IN SPACE but also AT HIS POST! Double Obsession Feeding! Happy chemicals! Mmmmm, content ecto-goo~

But now? NOW?! He's learning there is BETTER Space?!

WHERE IS THE BETTER SPACE?! *kicks open the portal*

It? Is a terrifying time for everybody. Thanks A LOT, Youngblood. It takes like... five Amazons and Pandora herself tackling the little menace, to get him still long enough to get a semi-coherent answer out of him. Stop him trying to shake down random ghosts for answers they can't GIVE.

Youngblood is grounded.

DANNY has an Obsession-crash headache, is really embarrassed, but honestly no one blames him. No one acts their best when they're Obsession gets suddenly triggered that hard. It was a poor man offered El Dorado, a scholar all the secrets in the world. He got swept up in it.

That SAID, yes, there IS a video game shop near here. There are, of course, countless such shops. It's the Zone. There are countless EVERYTHING. It's the nature of the Zone. Just don't harrass any of the developers and all will be well, Phantom. They're not afraid to put YOU in time out as well.

Deal! ( /☆.☆)/ *grabby hands*

There? Are so, SO many games. For systems Danny's never even HEARD off. Alien ones, new ones, long dead ones. Zone exclusives. It's less a shop and more a sprawling maze.

His grin is FERAL.

Space. Gaaaaaaames!!!

The more realistic the BETTER. Give him that living vicariously like an Astronaut DREAM. But fantasy maybe! Or in the future! Or deep space! Alien mayhaps! There are a few. The blended Obsessions that are kinda like his. Space and video-games instead of Space and Protection.

And? Oh~

Oh they are so SO realistic.

Impossible to play on any Earth computer, too. Not a single chance. Wouldn't even TRY and run. But! He is a Fenton! And he WILL have his Space Games! If his parents can make a portal in their basement? HE can make a Bank of Ectoplasmic Supercomputers in his spare room! Or Bedroom! Depends on renting prices!

He GUTS every landfill for MILES for usable parts.

"Liberates" parts from Rogues, left and right. Fuck their evil plans! He has computers to build! The Justice League? Baffled. Alarmed. Nooooot his problem!!!

He completes his works and? Oh~ the smile is both terrifying and fangy.

Spaaaaaaaace~☆

He starts College. On line, of course, he refuses to leave Amity. And Online can be done at his pace, at his hours. So? For once? He's actually doing WELL. Even BETTER? It helps him remember to leave them games every once and a while. Eat something. Be human.

But... well... it's like a slow flip of his Obsession starving. Now that he has all the Space he could ever want? He... suddenly finds Amity... peaceful? Which is GOOD! It's... it's GOOD.

.........just not for him.

He can almost physically FEEL him mind unclenching it's death grip on the town. Finger by finger. Hands releasing, letting go, as they... reach for something. As he starts taking NOTE of crime rates in major cities. Alien attacks and Rogues, Heros spread too thin, people getting HURT.

In need of PROTECTION.

He... he doesn't WANT to be that fickle. He LOVES Amity! It's his HOME. He wasn't protecting it just because he craved something to protect! In the end, he drags it out longer then he probably should, argues with himself, ignores the problem. Is STUBBORN.

It's only after Dani starts talking about coming back to Amity to stay with him, do the college thing like he did, that he realizes...

Amity's not his Haunt anymore.

They talk. She's excited to help him find a nice shit hole of a city to protect, but also worried because he looks really gaunt. He may LOVE Space... but...

It's the GHOST in him that loves Space. The Astronaut. The Kid who refused to die, who ate a PORTAL TO THE EVERYTHING and crawled out still exsistant, who told Death not only "not today" but "not EVER"? That kid had something to protect. Was and is and always will BE, protection. Himself, his friends, his family or the town. Doesn't matter WHAT it is.

He refused to go, so he could protect them.

The part that DID, though, was starlight. And yeah, he needs it. Feeds it desperately. But it... doesn't exactly support his human half, you know? Doesn't anchor him. Make him want to eat and sleep, be human and alive, connect with people.

Space makes him ghosty.

Dani ultimately convinces him, after spraying him down with a hose and shoving a cheeseburger down his face, to move to Metropolis with her. They get ALIENS! Have Aliens HEROS! BIG DESTRUCTIVE FIGHTS. With lots and LOTS of people who need help! Plus? Gotham is within a day trip!

And UNLIKE Gotham, the Ecto isn't RANK AF in Metropolis.

Seriously, it smells like a burst sewer pipe over there.

Danny agrees. Can totally afford a modest lil place thanks to some patents. Makes one HELL OF A SCENE moving in. With his giant, ominous, futuristic, weirdly day glow green glowing bank of super computers... in this, "we love our Alien Blorbo" Metropolis.

Cause Green and Glowing sure ain't welcome round these parts! No SIR! Somebody call the COPS!

Danny isn't even half way through, when Superman lightly touchs down, a forced grin plastered to his face. The "please, God, not another Rogue. Not a new one. Please!" all but RADIATING off him.

Hmmmmm....

Danny... kiiiinda forgot not everyone was as "I see fuckin NOTHING, man" as Amity natives. Awkward. Welp! Fenton Oblivious Gene's, ACTIVATE!

"Oh, HIIIIIII~☆ Superman! What brings you round these parts? Gosh, it's an honor! Dani! Come meet SUPERMAN!"

Clark knows what he's doing. Danny knows, Clark knows what he's doing. They are both from the Midwest. They ain't gonna break first! You kidding? Clark still has to ask. Inserts himself by INSISTING on helping. A welcome to Metropolis! Ha ha! (How long we gonna lie for, kid? How long? I can do this all day.)

Clark? Learns that Danny has become ABSURDLY knowledgeable about terraforming, spacecraft, aerospace engineering and anything else related to Space Survival. Thanks to... his "games".

Which Clark is PRETTY sure? Are creatively set up, alien, training programs. Cause both of the Fentons are DEFINITELY at least partially non-human. But, eh. Who is he to judge? The "mad scientist" vibe, though... THAT is his to judge. Which he does.

Routine check ins!

And pasta bakes. Because good lord, Fenton, you are skin and bones! And? If it helps with both Watchtower maintenance AND some killer articles? Because Danny is a fountain of Space related knowledge who loves to share it? That's between Clark and the weird, semi-feral, gremlin he's adopted! (Yes, honey, he KNOWS Danny is a grown man. But I did it with BRUCE-)

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation @the-witchhunter

[ellecdc]

This is my first ever time requesting and i feel a tad nervous about it. Since i don’t know how the whole thing works.

Okay so i've seen in your previous posts that you said you don't write for barty jr as a central character but imma request anyways and maybe just maybe i'm lucky and you do end up writing this request (no pressure tho sweetie)

Basically a Ravenclaw reader x reg x barty. Reader is a total sweetheart but also very witty, playful and sassy in a sweet way. and marauders are also involved in the fic. (Maybe reader is neighbors with James or maybe she's beasties with rem. I don't mind. you decide that.)

Your moonwater x reader one shot was so cute and i’m just craving more of your writing.

Anyways thank you and also if you don’t want to write for barty just replace him with another character or just ignore this whole request. 💗

🤨🤨🤨🤨 I wanted to say no on account of I really don't know that I want to write for Barty BUT....you're just too cute and I love you too much and I didn't want to say no to you on your first request [which: thanks so much for bestowing me with such an honour]. 🤨🤨🤨🤨 cheeky little minx, I bet you did that on purpose 😉

So I present to you, for possibly the only time ever on ellecdc.... poly!bartylus x Ravenclaw!reader

CW: Barty jokes (?) about wanting to kill people - very on brand for him

“Reggiiieeeee.” Barty whined as he walked into their shared dorm room where Regulus had been reading due to the fact that Barty had taken up residence in the Slytherin common room, making reading nearly impossible.

Regulus stifled a sigh and offered a begrudging “yes, my love?” as Barty belly-flopped onto the bed and muttered something (unintelligible) miserably into the velvet quilts.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Regulus asked, deciding to bookmark his place and give his boyfriend his undivided attention (anything less could end up being detrimental to both Regulus and Barty’s safety).

Barty lifted his head with a pout on his lips to look at Regulus. “How mad do you think Y/N would be if I killed Potter and his friends?”

Point proven. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Regulus deadpanned, causing Barty to groan and roll onto his side.

“It’s just she’s always spending so much time with them and they’re all so annoying. And I don’t want to tell her to not hang out with them” (that was a lie; Regulus has heard Barty tell you that the Marauders were 'no good company to keep' well over hundreds of times) “so, I thought it’d just be better if they...disappeared, you know?”

“What have you done?” Regulus groaned darkly, causing Barty to chuckle.

“Nothing! Nothing...” yet. 

“You do realize that your hit list includes my brother, right?” Regulus asked.

Barty looked at him like he was sort of stupid. “Uhm...duh, it’s called hitting two bludgers with one beater-bat. Do keep up.”

“Barty, you are going to scare her away...” Regulus pressed. “...you’re kind of scaring me away.”

Barty’s groan nearly turned into a shriek as he threw himself back down onto the bed in defeat.

“Fine. But when we’re trying to enjoy a nice moment with Y/N and Potter and his cronies interrupt, it will be all your fault.” 

And with that Barty got up and stormed out of the dorm room. Regulus sighed in relief and pulled his book back out.

So, when the three of you were wandering around Hogsmeade (i.e., you and Regulus were walking hand-in-hand whilst Barty followed, balancing precariously on the stone walls of bridges as well as some fences lining various properties (much to the shop clerks and homeowners’ chagrin), pausing to pet every cat he could find and seeing how many times he could skip stones in the pond [the answer was none, he kept throwing them too hard]), Regulus got proven wrong (somehow), and (even more importantly) Barty got proven right when Sirius, James, Peter, and Remus showed up.

“Hey guys!” You called cheerily, and Regulus was almost ashamed to admit that your sweet smile and kind voice cancelled out any chagrin that the appearance of his brother caused him.

“Hello gorgeous! Baby bro.” Sirius called with a wink, causing Regulus to roll his eyes.

“Can I help you four!?” Barty nearly screeched as he showed up seemingly out of nowhere, all but standing directly in front of you like he was trying to shield you from the sight a particularly horrifying broom crash.

“Barty...” You chided jovially, gently nudging him aside. “They’re just saying hello.”

Sirius looked rather chuffed that you had defended them. Regulus didn’t like that one bit.

“Okay, well hello. You can leave now.” Barty shouted.

“Oh, lighten up, Junior.” Remus called with a smirk. “We’re all friends here.” 

Barty scoffed. “I’d rather shit in my hands and clap than be friends with Gryffindor’s.”

“Ew.” Everyone else said in response.

“Come on, my sweet, beautiful, angelic, lovely, smart, wonderful girl. I don’t want you or our beautiful day to be tainted by such scoundrels.” He cooed at you like you were some toddler on the verge of tears from having dropped your ice cream on the ground.

You groaned a little bit but acquiesced, allowing Barty to turn your body in the opposite direction.

“Sorry guys. I’ll see you tomorrow for our study date!” You called over your shoulder, to which Barty quickly counteracted with a “no you won’t!”

“You know, love,” Regulus murmured into your ear, “you’d probably save him a little bit of grief if you at least didn’t call it a date.” 

“Perhaps. But look at him now.” You whispered back conspiratorially. “He’s holding my hand and talking a mile a minute about how much of his dad’s money he wants to spend on us at Tomes & Scroll’s.”

Regulus couldn’t help but smirk at that. 

A Ravenclaw may have been smart enough to come up with a plan like this, but only the influence of your two Slytherin boyfriends would have made you cunning enough to pull it off. 

AN: I don't know how I feel about this one bit

[bookshelf-dust]

healing

billy hargrove x gn!reader

word count: 5,445

warnings: swearing, smoking, mentions of past trauma (starcourt), slight sexual innuendos??

a/n: hi! remember when i made you do a poll for my 1k celebration? and one bed with billy won? well this is that fic! i'm sorry it took so long to get here, but school was kicking the ever loving shit out of me. anyways, i really hope you like it. it's a little different than other fics i've written, but i think that's a good thing. just for context, this is post the end of season three, with billy and hopper being okay and jopper being in full swing. i think that's all i wanted to say. thanks again for 1k followers. that's still so wild to me. i love you. and billy loves you too <333

————

November 1985

“No.”

“What do you mean no? You just fought an interdimensional being, don’t you want a vacation?” 

Lucas wipes both hands down his face, flopping down on the arm of the couch beside where Max sits with El between her knees, tying off one of the two braids she’s trying to make. 

“Max, can you help me? Please?” Lucas has been arguing about this for fifteen minutes. 

She rolls her eyes, but looks up from her work nonetheless. “Billy.”

The man in question crosses his arms, locking eyes with the redhead. “Maxine.”

Max finishes Eleven’s braid and she hops up to join Will where he’s working on a puzzle. Joyce brought it home from work a few days ago, and it’s been spread out on a card table in the corner of the living room since then. Will couldn’t watch The Golden Girls with Joyce from the kitchen table. 

“Just come with us, Billy. We all know you hate it here. It’ll give you a chance to get away for a little while.”

Except that’s not totally the truth. He doesn’t hate it here. Not with you around. 

“There’s a pool.” Will looks up, a little shyly, from the puzzle, fingers flipping around a single piece. “At the place Robin found.” 

Billy nods, and it’s enough to make Will smile at the acknowledgment. 

It’d been Steve’s idea, after everything that happened in July. He thought everyone going on a trip together might be a good idea. Go a little ways out from home, calm down. 

You and Billy started going to school, though Billy is still working. He found a job at a record store across the street from Melvald’s that opened after the mall went to shit. It definitely wasn’t his first choice, but it works. And he’s slowly fixing up the Camaro. 

Steve had offered to pay for the repairs in full, considering he did most of the damage when he rammed the side of it, but Billy couldn’t handle that. So far Max has only convinced him to let Steve cover the really expensive parts. It hurts Billy more than he’d care to admit—having Steve Harrington give him money. 

But he can’t lie, going somewhere away from Hawkins, even just for a couple days, sounds really nice. It’s the group part that’s bothering him. He’s still not used to everyone wanting him to tag along, but apparently major trauma brings people together.

There’s the slamming of car doors, and footsteps running up the driveway before the door swings open, Robin bursting in with a stack of movies in her arms. She’s followed by Dustin and then Steve, bags and keys being tossed every which way. 

Billy doesn’t see you for a moment and starts to worry maybe you aren’t coming. He’s already supplying excuses for having to go home, but Steve left the door ajar, and after a moment, there you are. 

You look sleepy, footsteps the quietest of everyone else as you carefully push the Byers’ door shut behind you. He watches as you accept a hug from Eleven, overhears her ask, “how did your test go?” 

He’s happy to hear you tell her it went well. It’s only after you’ve looked at her and Will’s puzzle and snapped a few more corner pieces in that you make a beeline for the open spot on the couch beside Billy. 

When you’ve settled, your knee bumps against his. “Hey.”

He looks at you, a little grin playing at the corners of his mouth. His arms are still crossed, thumb playing with the pendant resting on his chest. A chest surprisingly covered by a sweater, though the sleeves are pushed up. 

“Hey. Glad your test is over?”

That sound of his voice makes you smile, and he’s never been so grateful for something, even if it’s just an expression. “Yeah.”

You glance down at the new tattoo on his arm, a dark colored snake wrapping around the skin covering his elbow. You run your thumb across the tail that flicks across his forearm, and Billy relaxes into your touch. 

“You have work today?”

Billy shakes his head. You’re glad he had the day off. And you’d tell him so if it weren’t for the sudden bombardment. 

Lucas is suddenly standing in front of you, having returned from the kitchen where you think he and Dustin may have been cleaning out Joyce’s fridge. 

“Holy shit, thank god you’re here. I need you to convince Billy to go on vacation.” 

You glance at Max, assuming she’s already tried. She looks rather annoyed. “Lucas, would you sit down?”

The boy looks at Max, and she glares at him. Clearly he knows better and sits down next to her. 

“Billy doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do,” you finally say. 

The man in question turns to face you. You have to lean your head back some because of how close he is. 

“Are you going?” he asks, voice quiet and thick with something you don’t know that you’re supposed to notice. 

“Y-yeah. I was gonna. Robin only went on about it to me for an hour over the phone last night. I just think it might be nice to get away for a little while.” Billy doesn’t break eye contact with you, and while it makes you a little nervous, it tells you he’s listening.

“And I can watch Max for you if you really don’t want to go. Just make sure she doesn’t kill Lucas or anything.” Max snorts at your response, though Lucas looks at her in panic, already calculating how best to prevent that sort of situation. 

Your gaze softens and you fight the urge to reach out and run your thumb across Billy’s cheek. 

Please come with us. I want you to go. I want you there, you think. But it’s not what you say. You don’t know how badly he needs to hear it. 

“You really don’t have to go, Billy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But there is enough space, man.” Steve stands behind the couch, handing El a scrunchie he retrieved from her bag. His voice is calm, informative. “If you decide to go. There’s plenty of room, and we’d be happy if you did.”

Billy could make some smartass remark. But he won’t. He knows that Steve is being honest, and that he’s not trying to be a dick. It seems that witnessing the guy who beat the shit out of you almost die not even a year after he moved to town really brings you together. 

Billy gives an acknowledging nod. “I’d be very happy if you did,” Eleven says. She loves having Jonathan as an older brother, really she does, but Billy lets her play with his hair. And in her books, that really ups the scale. 

He smiles at her, and El considers that a win. 

You notice him shift next to you, and then he’s leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Come with me?” He cocks his head in the direction of the door. 

He gets up, assuming you’ll follow him. You always do. 

When you’ve shut the door, you move to the porch swing. It’s your favorite spot out here, and Joyce says it makes her happy to see someone use it. She used to sit there with Will in the mornings after Jonathan left for school and read to him. She did the same with Jonathan, but he was a much more fidgety kid, wanting to find something else to do. 

Billy lights a cigarette, and you watch where he fidgets with the ring on his middle finger. 

He’s standing a little ways away from you so as to not breathe the smoke directly in your vicinity, but you wish so badly that he was closer. You like having him close. The weight of his body next to you, the warmth, how solid his arm feels when it’s pressed to yours or when he slides down on the couch some and it's more so pressed to your side. 

“Which part of it are you worried about?” you ask him. 

He shrugs. “You really think they want me there? You think Max wants me around?” “Billy, I know she does. And I know that voice in your head is telling you that it’s a pity invite, but it’s not. And, besides…” you trail off, but he’s not having that. He needs you to reassure him. 

“Besides what?” 

You look up at him. “I want you to go. And yeah, I’ll be sad if you don’t go, but that shouldn’t sway your decision either.” You push your feet against the concrete porch a little harder, and the swing responds to the movement. You move quicker, now feeling very pleased with yourself. 

Billy almost laughs at the child-like look on your face, but you look so at home on the swing that he holds it in. A grin escapes nonetheless. 

“Say that again.” He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray either Hopper or Joyce have left outside. He’s watching you again. 

“What?” He’s not gonna let you go all shy on him now. He needed to hear that. He needs to hear it. 

“You know what.”

“I want you to go.”

“Then it’s settled. Need to get out of this shithole anyways.”

————

The place Steve found is about two hours from Hawkins, with three bedrooms, a shockingly luxurious pull-out couch, and bigger common areas than you’ve ever laid eyes on. Excluding the ones in Steve’s house. In short, the rental is like Hopper’s cabin, if Hopper’s cabin were updated and substantially larger. It feels like the kind of place rich people have to take weekend trips. You’d rather not find out how much Steve is paying for the lot of you to stay there. 

Robin takes you on a grand tour while everyone else explores the backyard. Dustin is already determined to climb a tree. One of the rooms has two sets of bunk beds, dedicated to the four boys. “To ensure no cootie-spreading,” Robin proclaims. 

She and Steve will share the couch, with Max and Eleven in the smaller bedroom. 

Robin stops at the end of the hallway. “Which leaves…” 

You and Billy. 

You and Billy Hargrove.

Sharing a room. 

Sharing a bed. 

Speaking of, the man in question brushes past you, setting his bag on the floor at the foot of the bed. Robin takes that as her queue to leave and gives you a thumbs up on the way out. You hope she can feel your death stare on the back of her head, and she knows it, being quick to run down the hall. 

“So we’re roomies, huh?” Billy says, gathering his hair at the base of his neck. You hadn’t even realized he had a tie on him, and it takes him finishing off a lazy bun to realize it’s a blue scrunchie. You have to bite your lip to keep from saying anything. 

“I can sleep with Max and El, if you want. Or–”

That crease between Billy’s brows forms. “Why would you do that?”

You’ve gone all warm. You’d have to sleep in bed with him. And you sit next to him all the time, but this is different. Isn’t it?

Maybe it’s not so weird. You’re just friends. It’s like a sleepover, right?

“I don’t know, you might not want to sleep together or something.”

He cocks a brow, but you catch the double meaning of your words just in time. “You know what I mean, Billy.”

He sits on the end of the bed, and reaches out for you. You move towards him slowly, but the moment you’re within his grasp, Billy spreads his legs and grabs your waist, slotting your body between them. 

“You can go if you really want to. If you think I’ve got cooties or somethin’ and you don’t wanna share a bed with me.”

You snort, and Billy drinks in the sound, knowing he’s the one that made you laugh. 

“I don’t think you’ve got cooties.”

You realize in that moment that his hands haven’t left their spot on your waist, never straying anywhere else. The weight of them on you is enough to keep you focused on him, and he seems to acknowledge that. 

“Then what is it?” he asks, in that low drawl you fear could get out any answer he wanted from you. 

You hesitate, but say it anyway. “You don’t think it’ll be weird? Sleeping in the same bed?”

Billy fights the urge to rest his forehead against your stomach. He wants to tell you he’s wished you were in his bed on more than one occasion. Sometimes he just wishes you were there so it wouldn’t feel so cold, so he’d have someone to pull him out of his thoughts before they eat him alive altogether. 

“No, I don’t think it’ll be weird.”

You nod your head, and try to move back from him. 

Billy whines. “Uh uh. Nope.”

You go to put your hands on your hips, and they graze Billy’s on the way. He grabs hold of them. “You don’t want to have a sleepover with me?”

Billy’s looking up at you with those watery blue eyes, and you know this is a battle you’ll never win. 

“Really?”

He lets out a breath of a laugh, and your eyes fall to his neck when he tosses his head back. 

“Yeah, baby.”

Baby. 

It feels like every cell in your body has been sent into overdrive, like you can’t compute a single coherent thought. All because Billy called you “baby”. 

And if he’s being honest with himself, he feels the same way. He hadn’t meant to say it. It’s just that he calls you “baby” in his head all the time, and it just…happened.

“I’d love to have a sleepover with you, Hargrove.”

“Mhm. Thought so.” 

This time he lets the laugh out, and it’s a beautiful sound. The kind of sound you’d commit unspeakable acts to hear again. And this time, he does let his forehead drop to rest on your stomach. It surprises you, but you’re not mad about it.

“Oh, fuck off,” you say, and you can feel his chuckle against your skin.

When he quits, you find yourself just standing there, find your hands moving around his back. He’s always so warm. You rub your hands up and down his back, the denim of his jacket rough on your fingertips. 

You feel him shift, feel his change in position, the hard press of his chin against you. Billy is looking up at you, and you know he’s hoping you’ll return his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, and you hate to think of what you must look like from this angle. Clearly he doesn’t mind. 

You push a curl behind his ear, a shockingly perfect ringlet that’s too short to be contained like the rest of them. 

Billy would be taken aback by the gesture if it weren’t for the fact that you always go this easy on him. Like you know he’s healing, in more ways than one. 

“We can’t stay here forever, you know. I wanna go look around.” 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I’m sure it’s riveting.” He lets you go anyway, following you down the hall to the rest of the cabin.

————

Your back rests on the base of an oversized chair, one that’s surprisingly comfy, your body in between Robin’s legs. She’s sitting next to Steve, watching you moderate El, Lucas, and Will play Twister. Dustin’s already out. 

“Right hand blue.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“Sinclair, have you never played this game before?”

Lucas scoffs, trying to reach the blue on the other side of the mat without toppling into Will. Max went with Billy to the store, but they should be back soon. You have a sick feeling they’re taking advantage of having been given Steve’s debit card. 

“Yes, I’ve played the game before. If you’re so good, why don’t you get down here and show us how it’s done, Harrington?”

“Yeah, Harrington, why don’t you show us how flexible you are?” Billy’s voice makes you look up from where you’ve been mindlessly twisting the spinner on the board around with the tip of your finger. 

He stands just inside the living room, holding the door open with his leg. He kicks it shut once Max has made it in. She heaves the paper bags she’d been holding up and onto the counter. Steve rises to help unpack them. You follow on instinct, handing the spinner to Robin instead, and Dustin is quick to take Steve’s spot before Mike can. 

Billy won’t let you take anything from him, but he will let you help figure out what the hell to do with all of it. “Do I even want to know how much you both spent?” you ask. 

He gives you that fucking smile, and you know you don’t. “Max said she wanted to have a spa night–whatever that means–with El, so we sort of split up. I’m sure Steve’ll live.” 

“For your information, Lucas,” Steve continues, clearly not ready to let the quips towards his limberness go, “I was the captain of the swim team.”

“What’s that got to do with being flexible, dingus?” Robin directs the two remaining players, the young boy in question having just busted his ass. 

“Swimming is an art form, Rob. You gotta learn to respect it.”

You choke on a laugh, and Billy is quick to rub your back while he chuckles into your shoulder. 

“Something funny over there?” Steve questions. 

You straighten, trying to wipe the smile from your face though it’s to no avail. “Nope, Steven. I’m sure you’re just incredibly stretchy. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

His brow furrows. “Mr. Fantastic?”

Dustin snorts, elbow deep in a bag of chips, and you quickly realize that you probably shouldn’t have given him an opening, but you don’t exactly regret it either. 

The lot of you spend the rest of the night in this fashion, playing games, eating way too much food, taking turns smacking the top of the television so your movie will keep playing. 

It feels like home. It feels safe. You wish it always felt this way. 

————

You’d just finished brushing your teeth when you hear the bedroom door click shut, hear footsteps you can tell are in search of you. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom and Billy grins at the sight of you in pajamas, a smear of moisturizer on your forehead you’ve yet to rub in. 

He squeezes in the small room, about the same size as his at home, to join you. There’s something about this moment, the domesticity of it, that makes your heart swell. It feels like something you could get used to, getting ready for bed with him. Neither of you have to say anything, you just do your own thing, but having him be there, having his presence–it’s more than enough for you. 

When you climb into bed, you try and read for a while, the sounds of Billy washing his face comforting you. You find it easy to read even when he does get in with you, the mattress sinking underneath his weight, the sheets rustling as he moves around experimentally, trying to get comfortable in a bed that isn’t his own. 

You feel odd though, reading when he’s right there, so it isn’t long before you close the book and slide further into the covers with him. Billy’s quick to turn on his side, wanting to see you like this. 

He watches you yank the blankets up to your chin, looking at him over a blur of fluffy white comforter. “It’s fuckin’ freezin’ in here,” you tell him.

“C’mere then.”

You burrow further into your pillow, fearing you know exactly what he’s going to suggest. “Huh?”

“You’re cold. You always whine about me being warm or somethin’ and I’m telling you to come here.”

“Billy.”

“Stop.” He lifts the covers up some, untucking you from them, and he wraps his arm around your back, tugging you into his side. 

Suddenly you’re pressed against him, having slid across the sheets easier than you’d have imagined. 

He’s let go of you, his arm hovering over your back. “You want me to hold you or no?” 

“Yeah.” 

Billy lets his arm drop against your side, his fingers splaying out over your back. He rubs his hand up and down your spine, hoping it’ll warm you up. “This okay?” 

“Yes.” 

He nods. You’re looking at him like he’s something special.

Billy realizes, in that moment, that that’s how you’ve always looked at him. Even before. 

He also realizes that your hands are tucked under your chin and your legs are curled up and into you like you’re afraid of making any contact with him. 

“You can loosen up, you know. It’s just me.” 

You let out a breath of a laugh, and he can feel it against the skin of his neck. 

“It’s okay, I promise. You can touch me.” Billy has this feeling that you’re afraid of hurting him. He’s sure you’ve noticed that he’s wearing a shirt to bed, something he never did before. And he thinks that you’re worried he’ll break. 

“You’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

He watches you unfold your hands and stretch your arm over him, hooking it around his hip. You want to rub up and down his side, but you’re nervous. 

It’s just me. 

“Do they hurt at all?”

Your thumb skates up a little further, and you don’t have to tell him what you mean. 

“Not all the time,” he says, voice low and thick with drowsiness. “At first, yeah, like hell. Now it’s just sometimes. They can feel a little tight, or just bug me. Depends, I guess.”

You nod, feeling brave enough now to slide your hand up a little further. Your touch is light, barely there. You close your eyes, trying not to think about when it happened. How he’d screamed. 

He can tell when you’ve calmed down some, because your arm relaxes and you hug him a little more firmly. You scoot in a little closer, close enough that your noses would touch if you tried to make them. 

“Goodnight, Billy.”

He makes the move, dragging the tip of his nose across your forehead. He kisses the top of your head, and you grin so wide you feel like a kid in a candy shop. 

“Goodnight, baby.”

————

When you wake up, you almost don’t want to disturb him, but you know you should get out of bed.

Billy is sprawled out on his stomach, having separated from you at some point during the night. His tank top is rucked up from the tossing and turning of sleep, and you look away when you catch a glimpse of pink skin. It doesn’t feel like your place to look. 

You wander out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind you. You make it down the hall, and find that Robin seems to be the only other one awake. You should’ve guessed. She told you once before that her body doesn’t seem to let her sleep in. 

Steve is still passed out on the pull-out couch, completely covered by the blankets. The only sign of him is a tuft of messy hair against the light colored pillow case his head rests on. 

Robin waves at you from her perch at the kitchen counter, a bowl of cereal in front of her. “Want some?” she whispers, pushing the box in your direction. 

You fill up your own bowl, having a feeling that Robin is about to ramble. 

“Sleep okay?” she asks. 

“Mhm. You?”

“Fine. Though, y’know, Steve is a horrific bed hog. Seriously, he was half on top of me the whole night. I might have to bunk with Max and El.” 

You laugh, and Robin takes that as her queue to ask what she’s been pondering since she woke up. 

“Was it okay? Sleeping with Billy? Well, not like that. Well, I’m assuming not like that, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I just meant like actually sleeping? Please stop me.”

You grin at her. “Please breathe, Rob.” She does, over exaggerating her inhales. “And it was fine.”

“Okay, good. I was kind of worried you’d be frustrated with my matchmaking tendencies. I just really want you two to be happy. And he seems so calm when he’s with you, and I realize I’ve just told you that I’ve been pushing you two together and I–”

You wipe milk from your chin, having almost spit out your cereal. “Robin, sweetheart, it’s okay, I promise. I know about your matchmaking tendencies. But I think we’re just friends, right?”

“Just friends, my ass.” You hadn’t even seen Steve get up, but he’s reaching for the fridge and pulling out a carton of chocolate milk. He really can’t say anything about Dustin’s eating habits when he has the exact same diet. 

“Oh my god.”

“Listen, I’m just saying, there’s been something going on between you two since before the world went to shit. I don’t know why you two tiptoe around each other like it’s not obvious that you’re in love.”

“Steve!” you exclaim. “Seriously, what the hell? I’ve been up for like twenty minutes and you two are schooling me on my love life?”

“Or lack thereof,” Robin says. 

“Okay, damn. You know what, I’m going back to bed.” 

Steve pushes your bowl back towards you when you attempt to get up. “No, you’re not. I’m just saying, there’s no sense in avoiding this. You both clearly feel a lot for each other, and I don’t see any reason to avoid it when you could be together.” 

He’s being vulnerable with you, his big brown eyes boring into yours and trying to convey how serious he’s being. 

“Just think about it, okay? There’s no harm in talking about how you feel with him. And don’t say that you don’t feel anything, because that’s a goddamn lie.”

————

Billy’s had his swim trunks on all day, but he hasn’t done more than sit in the shade by the pool while everyone else makes a mess and plays ridiculous games in the water. 

It’s killing him to watch you in there from time to time, swimming around or sitting in the shallow end. You told him once that swimming calms you down. 

It’s not until after dinner, when everyone has moved inside for the most part, though there seems to be the plotting of a water balloon fight out front, that he’s brave enough to head for the pool. 

You follow him out there, see him contemplating the water. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

Billy drops the cigarette he’d been smoking, snubbing it out. “Thought about going for a swim,” he tells you. 

“That sounds nice.”

“Mhm.”

“I can go back inside, if you want.”

Billy turns to face you. “No. No, I want you to stay.” He wants you to see. He can’t explain why, but he does. 

“Okay.” 

He takes a shaky breath, hoping you don’t catch it. You do. You always do. 

“I just…wasn’t ready for everyone to see.”

“I understand, Billy.” 

You know what he’s really saying. He wasn’t ready for everyone to see. But he’s ready for you to see. 

“I can get in first, if that helps. And I won’t look if you don’t want me to,” you say. 

“That helps, yeah. And you can look. It’s okay.”

He watches you wade in, watches the way your swimsuit changes color as you tread water. 

Billy takes another deep breath, and he’s pulling his shirt off. He’s quick though, diving straight into the deep end, knowing he needs to get it over with. 

When he comes up, his hair is sticking to his forehead, and he flips it out of the way, giving you a glimpse of the broad pink scar on his chest. 

He meets you halfway, and you think he’s in a serious mood until he’s splashing you like a child. 

“You motherfucker!” 

You get him back, and he’s laughing. 

Billy is laughing and he looks so pretty in the last of the day’s sunlight, beads of water sliding over his collarbones and down his arms, and you feel like you could die. Like seeing him this way is enough. You don’t need anything else.

You try to return a particularly aggressive splash, but he catches your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Billy!”

“What?” His voice is teasing. He tosses the rest of the way over, your laughter fading out into the water. 

You come up, a brilliant smile on his face. Billy’s sure if you stood close enough you’d be able to hear his heart beating. 

When you’ve both gone quiet, your eyes drop to the scars on his sides, the way they stretch across his skin, mean and twisting. Some spots are darker than others, and while it hurts you to look at them, you know it must hurt him even more. But he looks just as beautiful as before, if not increasingly so. 

“See something you like?” Billy says it on instinct. To hide the fact that he’s worried you don’t really like it. That maybe you think he’s gross looking. But he knows that’s all in his head. He fucking knows it. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Billy Hargrove.”

You say it with such surety, such admiration, that he can’t even begin to doubt that you mean it. 

He smiles at you. It’s boyish. You’d do anything to see a million more of them. 

He moves towards you, the sky having darkened enough that the outside lights have come on, the lights in the pool too. All that remains of the sun is a slash of deep orange, though the night quickly pushes it away.

Billy’s got you backed up against the wall of the pool now. His hands find your sides.

It’s overwhelming, having him this close. You can feel his breath on your face, see the rise and fall of his chest, the freckles on his cheeks. 

When he kisses you, you think your heart stops. His mouth is warm against yours, and he tastes a little like chlorine, but you don’t care. Your hands find his face, and you’re smiling so hard that he pulls away because he wants to see. You don’t let him for long though, pulling him back, wanting more. He laughs into your mouth, and your chest aches with this feeling.

Eventually you do let go, and when you hold his eye contact, he knows what you’re going to say. He needs to tell you first, though.

“I’m in love with you, you know.”

“I know,” you respond.

He tosses his head back in a laugh, and you press a sweet kiss to his throat. 

“I’m in love with you too, Billy.”

“Damn right you are.”

You snort against his chest, lowering slightly to kiss his scar. His breath catches. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you. 

“About fucking time!” Steve’s shouting and Robin is yelling, and Max would be making barf sounds if she wasn’t so pleased with seeing her brother so happy. 

“So much for that,” Billy says.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

————

“I’m regretting this, Billy.”

“Stop whining.”

Billy wraps his arms tighter around your back, pressing a kiss to your jaw in hopes that you’ll let him keep doing this. 

“Get off.”

“No.”

“Get off, please.”

“Make me.” 

There’s the sound of a slap, your hand having met his ass.

He raises his head from where he’d buried it in your chest, looking at you drowsily. “You just spanked me.”

And you’d do it again. 

“Didn’t work, did it?”

“No. Shut up and take it.”

By that he means continue letting him lay on top of you, his entire body pressed to yours. It doesn’t matter to him that there’s an entire bed, one that’s made for two people.

You settle for playing with his hair, something he seems to enjoy, and you’d mess with him about the fact that he’s essentially purring if it weren’t for him looking so content. 

He might be heavy, but having Billy Hargrove sleep on top of you isn’t exactly something you just give up. 

He’s never had this before.

Hell, you’ve never had this before. 

And he thinks it’s healing him. More than the salve he puts on his scars, or the physical therapy, or fixing up the Camaro. 

You’re healing him. You. 

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[muffin-man-marq-lynch]

I've only been a wrestling fan for a few months but I have to say with the nervous flutter about wrestlers lurking on Tumblr and fic sites and other traditionally closed-off fandomy spaces? I get it. On both sides.

But if I was a wrestler with the natural inclinations and curiosity to poke my nose into what people are saying in my industry outside of the dirtsheets, I would get really, really tired of the same six talking points regurgitated over and over on Twitter and Reddit threads arguing about ratings, whether X is washed up, the same fucking wank over and over floating to the top. I say this because I have tried to stick my nose into the wrestling Twitter and Reddit communities a few times as a new fan and it exhausts me already.

So yeah, I can see the appeal as a lurking wrestler on Tumblr for the exact same things we do.

Look at that! HD Gifsets of the matches! Showing off the moments that really made people pop and the moves that were incredible in more than just YouTube clips, filled with tagged commentary.

Oh fun, longer form commentary on where matches might go, pulling together histories of feuds and reigns, lighter hearted debates and shitposts all around.

A tagging system that actually allows some muting once in a while that people sometimes use?

And yes, fic, art, and objectification. Cheers, I have been working very hard on my pecs, my tits did look amazing tonight, thank you for noticing my costume details change.

Yes, we're horny, we're ravenous, we're transing your genders, foaming at the mouth, etc etc. But we've been here doing this for a while. I was doing this shit with a community on LiveJournal for Kayfabe Jon Stewart & "Stephen" Colbert back in 2009 and they knew and played it up for us too.

The weird pervert who is harmless but a good friend trope has gone way down lately, which makes sense given the current climate post #MeToo, but Kenny Omega on Being The Elite was a great example: in a sea of other dick jokes he was the ulti-perv they all still chose to hang out with. We on Tumblr are for the most part not bashing, harassing, haranguing, or spreading misinformation. We're just making art, noticing details, supporting work, and throwing out lewd jokes.

It's entirely up to the wrestling community if they want to hang out with us while we do those things, but it seems pretty clear that that is a vibe a lot of them are comfortable with, and some are happy to dig deeper into the weird shit we're making.

I just see a lot of people getting self-loathing about what they've been posting and I wanted to offer a different perspective. I've seen actors lose their minds being delighted at body pillows of themselves or mousepads of their supple tits. Adults are all different and none of this should be forced on anyone at conventions or tagged at them etc, but if they seek it out and like it? Well then, welcome to the Devil's Sacrament. Have fun, and personally I'm glad Tumblr is also your happy escape space.

[taylormarieee]

~A hunter's first love~

A dean winchester drabble

Summary: You were dean's first love, yeah I know it's hard to believe with every girl he's been with but you... you were different from the rest, here's you guy's story...

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: dean winchester x hunter!reader

Warnings: kissing, mentions of death, mentions of blood, typical supernatural stuff, dean confessing, angst, a argument, dean being a bit of a jerk, a lil actual smut, piv sex, dean himself, trauma dumping, also reader isn't a hunter in the beginning but closer to the end she is.

A/N: I've been meaning to post this one for awhile but it's just been an idea in the back of my head. I NEED to write for dean more, and I swear I will, my word is my bond guys even tho sometimes i don't commit, ntm on me tho, love y'all and enjoy!

You were dean's very first love. Yea he had that chick in highschool but there were always chicks digging him in high school.

didn't mean he loved them. dean never did meeting parents and saying I love you. he was a cold kid that broke everything.

distanced himself from the people who needed him most. the exceptions were sammy and you.

something about you was special, something about you made dean's heart ache. it made him feel things that he usually would never feel.

he met you when sammy had went off to college to do his own thing. he was proud of sammy but he felt alone. yes of course he had his dad but there were nights where dad would always be gone and dean was left to handle himself.

but that was before you. during you, when he met you in the bar for the very first time, you looked like you were having a hellish day.

"bad day?" he asks as he slides into the barstool, drink in hand. you chuckle and look at him. your eyes widen a bit at how attractive he is.

"y-yea, s-something like that." you stutter as you take another sip of your brandy. after that you both kinda just hit it off.

laughing and having deep genuine conversations. he told you his name and you told him yours. he even offered you a ride back home to which you gladly accepted.

"thank you for the ride dean, I really appreciate it." you thank him and then get ready to walk up the stairs to your apartment but you pause.

"would you like to come inside? I just feel bad for making you take me home and then not offering you anything to sober you up a little. just come inside, please?" you ask.

he smiles and nods. "yea yea sure, i'd love to come inside." he says with a smirk on his face when he stands next to you.

"must you ruin the moment?" you hit him playfully as you chuckle.

"hell yea!" he exclaims with a chuckle as well. you unlock the door to your apartment and step inside. it's not the best but it's enough for you and it was simple and modern and you loved it.

dean seemed to have loved it too, to him though, it was very old-schooled. very 90's. you had these cute posters and paintings on walls. little records piled up on the coffee table.

it was adorable. it was very you. you had an electric guitar on a stand next to your tv in the living room and you had all your favorite rock band cd's splayed everywhere on the couch.

"just gimme a sec, I didn't exactly expect company." you say shyly.

"oh no, your totally fine. I dig it. AC/DC? I love it." he says pointing at the band poster framed up on your wall.

"oh that's old, my dad gave it to me, I basically grew up listening to many rock bands. guns n roses, AC/DC, Metallica, yk the goodies." you smile up at dean.

"that poster was actually signed by the entire band when my dad got a backstage pass. He was so happy til the day he died." you say staring at the poster with a smile on your face.

"guessing he got the best day mug when you were a kid huh?" he says with a smile.

you laugh and shake your head. "yea actually, I did get him one for his birthday one year, he had the proudest smile ever when he saw Axl Rose's signature on it." you smile.

"wow, you were the best daughter." he exclaims.

"I mean I tried to be. my mom split when I was eight and that took a huge chunk outta my dad's heart. so I slowly had to rebuild it back again. I missed seeing him happy. It was just me n him, no point in trying to make life harder than it already was." you explain.

"Yea I get that. your better than me. see when I was little me, my mom, my dad? we were the happiest family. and then when my baby brother was born, I was so happy! but uhm a few months after he was born my uh my mom died. then it was just me my dad and sammy." he explains.

"that was hard for all of us. even harder for sammy considering he never even got to talk to his mother. my dad was hard on me and sammy growing up. I of course was always the lash out kid, constantly angry, never liking how he acted or did stuff. then of course that anger when out to sam because I couldn't yell at my dad, I was 10." he continues.

you hum to let him know your still listening and you grab him some water and prop it on the coffee table in front of you two.

"thanks. but yea, sammy never really understood why we always moved, never stayed in one place too long until he got tired of it. tired of that lifestyle. now he's in college and he's thriving, my dad on the other hand, he's avoiding me any chance he gets but hey, I would avoid me too if I was him. I break everything I touch." he finishes, taking a long gulp of his water.

you both sit in silence for a second and dean looks at you, hoping you say something other than "get out of my house."

"oh dean, I'm so sorry. no child should ever have to go through that. and I can assure you dean, you don't break everything you touch, I'm here and see! I'm not broken, i'm standing ten toes behind you." you says with a smile.

"I hunt monsters for a living with my dad. and we kill them so they can't ahrm people anymore." he blurted out randomly. he wanted to push you away, because he was falling in love with you too quickly. he wanted you to see him as scary.

your eyes widen. you pause. your hand is still on his arm and his thigh. you blink once, then twice. your jaw opens to say something but closes again.

"speak now, scream now, curse me out or forever hold your peace and i'll leave." he says.

you immediately spoke not wanting him to leave. "don't leave. I'm just a little shocked is all. do you and your dad really do that? does your brother know?" you ask.

"Why do you think he went off to college, to live a normal life like the rest of you." dean says.

"wow. uhm that's a lot to take in. thank you for telling me. there are parts of me that don't believe you, but i'm going to trust my heart. I believe you dean. you're a hero."

"I'm not a hero, i'm a monster." he says.

"you save people dean, how is that you being a monster." you counter.

"because it's almost like i enjoy it, the thrill."

"ok but heros i'm sure enjoy the thrill as well."

"That's not the same thing sweetheart I-"

"Why can't you just accept that your not a monster."

"because I lived with this my whole life ok? I am a monster."

"ok, but you help people, how do monsters do that? how is that YOU being a monster?"

"Because I just am!" he shouts at you. you gasp and scoot away from him.

"oh, i'm sorry. I won't bring it up."

"for fuck's sake, I'm sorry sweetheart. I-I didn't mean to shout at you, i'm sorry. c'mere." he says.

you scoot back to him and he wraps your body in a hug.

"what are you so scared of dean? If your brother can live a normal life, why can't you? why do you think you don't deserve a happy ending?" you ask.

you look up at him with puppy dog eyes and he folds immediately. he kisses the top of your head and smiles down at you.

"you really think I'm a good person? you truly believe I could have a happy ending?'" he asks.

"If I didn't think so, would I have bickered with you about it like a toddler?" you ask with a chuckle.

he laughs.

"I guess not."

you both stare at each other for a good 2 minutes before you look down at his lips. he looks at you and stares at your lips as well.

you lean up closer to his face, your noses touching. he closes his eyes, waiting for it to happen. he of course wasn't prepared for his mind's decision to pull away.

"I have to go sweetheart. I'm sorry." he says as he pulls away from you. he can't bare to look at you as he stands up from the couch but he does it anyway and his heart sinks.

your pouting. god why must you look so good when you pout. "oh, please stay dean, I don't want to be alone. and I don't think you do either." you say standing up and grabbing his hand.

"just spend the night, and then in the morning you can leave, just don't leave without saying goodbye." you say pointing a finger at him.

"ok sweetheart, I won't." he says with a smile. "good." you respond with a smile as well.

"now, I have one more gift for you." you say with a smirk on your face.

"Oh really, what is it? it better be pie." he says with a chuckle. you roll your eyes playfully as you pull him towards you bedroom.

"i mean it'll be some kind of pie if you want it to be? but it's also much better than pie." you say seductively.

"mhmmm" he groans, "I like the sound of where this is going.

he runs his hands down your waist as you drag him towards you bed. you shrug off his jacket and he grabs your ass once his jacket is on the floor and goes straight for your jeans buttons.

"please kiss me already dean, I need you." you beg.

his lips are smashed on to yours immediately after your request. guess dean couldn't wait any longer either.

you tug at his shirt and he pulls it off. you take your shirt off as well and that's when dean pushes you on to the bed. you grab at his road shoulders and scratch at his back.

he nips at your neck leaving little sweet kisses after. you were so having hickeys afterwards.

he smashes his lips against yours again and you bite his lip. he groans at the feeling and you release his lip but he can taste the blood on his lip.

he licks his lips and looks at you. "you tryin to devour me huh?" he asks with a smirk.

"Maybe?" you ask with mimicking smirk on your face. he kisses you again and you moan in his mouth. god he lives for your noises.

"do that again." he demands. he kisses down your neck looking for that spot that makes you reel. you moan in his ear again and he physically fights the urge not to shove his fingers in you ight now.

his cock painfully aching in his boxers. you both roll around and moan in each others ears. you tug on his hair and he tugs on yours.

he inhales your scent and he feels like he's on cloud 9.

you were amazing. even more amazing when he first entered inside you. god you were so fucking tight. so delicious. so enticing.

you were pulling him in and he was hitting all the right spots to make you scream his name like a mantra, like a prayer.

you loved the feeling of his fat cock inside you. it made you feel euphoric. no one has ever made you feel this way, dean hit every spot. he made you cry and scream and feel so good.

you needed him. you desired every bit of him. he's the man you daydream about, the one you read tumblr fics about.

you feel your orgasm approaching and dean feels his but he solely his focused on making you feel good. sadly that doesn't work because he's struggling to not cum inside you.

"it's ngh- ok dean. please cum inside me, I want it so bad. please." you beg him and he loses it. he kisses you one last time before he releases inside you, still thrusting and over stimulating himself just to make you feel good.

you eventually cum around his cock as well, feeling so good. you arch into him and tug on his hair really hard he groans. he moans into your ear as he lets out the last spurts of his cum into your stoamch.

he rearranged your guts like no other before and you loved how it made you feel dean winchester makes you feel alive. he makes you feel like yourself.

dean pulls out of you and lays right behind you. you cuddle into him throwing your leg over his to tangle up in his warmth.

he smiles to himself and you kiss him again as you both fall asleep. dean couldn't stop thinking about you. and you couldn't stop thinking about him.

he's your saviour. your hero. your perfect man. your first love.

your his daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love.

It's been a year now and you and dean are thriving. he calls you every day and every night when he's on a hunt.

you even got to meet his brother. you comforted him when his dad died and you even let them stay at your place whenever they were in town.

two years go by and you and dean are on a little break. he said that he didn't feel like he could give you what you wanted and asked if he could take a break from the relationship to give him some time to think.

you didn't know he slept with an old fling and it broke your heart when sam told you.

you went on hunting alone. you met bobby on a hunt and he treated you well. he made sure you were safe.

four years go by and you meet dean again, you never blocked him and he called from time to time. sometimes you'd answer other times, you'd not even give him the time of day.

you looked at dean and realized he hasn't aged a day, if anything he looked more mature, he looked just as good as the last time you saw him.

his voice deeper and still demanding. you hug him and he tells you how much he's missed you. you missed him just as much.

he told you he was sorry and you forgave him. you forgave him a long time ago. he offered to try again and you agreed.

the three of you went hunting together like a family and it was fun. but one night you decided to play hero.

"dean, I once told you you deserved a happy ending, that you weren't a monster." you say quickly while panting.

"yea babe, but why? why are you saying this?" he asked his glossy eyes staring back at you.

"you know I love you right?" you tell him.

"I love you too sweetheart, now tell me what's wrong?!" he shouts.

you hear the footsteps of the vampire and you look at sam and dean.

"babe, it's my turn to be a hero ok? you go on without me. you live your life and you find your happy ending. I love you both so much." you say holding the both of their hands.

"Now run." you say.

you shoot at the vampire and it rushes towards you choking you. you try to fight it off but it stabs you in the stomach and you scream out.

Sam runs to rescue you and dean screams for you. the vampire throws you off to the side and bloods seeping out of your mouth and wound. dean runs to your limp body on the floor and he cradles you in his arms.

sam quickly runs back over the vampires body on the ground with a wooden stake in it's heart and it's head cut off.

you try to speak but dean shushes you.

"no no baby don't speak i'm gonna get you help ok, y-your- fuck your gonna live ok. SON OF A BITCH! baby please don't die on me, I love you please please please." he cries.

"i-i love you too, my sweet hero." your last words before your eyes shut and your no longer moving.

he says your name and sam checks for a pulse. he looks at dean and shakes his head no. dean shakes you and screams your name some more but no response.

he sits there and cries with sam by his side crying as well.

you were dean's daydream. his fantasy. his perfect girl. his first love and the last one he ever loved. the one he couldn't save.

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @itzdarling @sammyluvr @liliesdiary @ribbonprincess @bellahadidnt16 @iilovefictionalpeople @aerangi @keiva1000 @madafton @niktwazny303 @prettyluhdavis @kqmbr1a @nuemanfilms + anyone else who wants to join

[ssprayberrythings]

snow angels & ski trips | CL16

charles leclerc x female!girlfriend reader 

pov: a glimpse on how you and charles spend your holidays

warnings: none, just tooth rotting fluff cause im a hopeless romantic that got carried away while writing this

this is my first f1 related piece of work on here and also my first time writing in the social media format so i hope its okay and you like it <3

-

@yourusername posted on their story  

caption: where could we be going 😉

╰  @yoursister reply: cant wait to see you 

╰ @yourmom reply: so excited to see you and charles 🙂

@charles_leclerc posted on their story  

caption: she looks so peaceful 

*replies disabled* 

-

@f1_updates posted on their insta   

user1, user12, user2 and others liked 

charles and his girlfriend @yourusername met fans at the airport in y/n’s hometown, guess we know where they’re spending the holidays 

view all comments 

user1: awe he looks so cute 

user2: on twitter fans are saying y/n was offering to take everyones photos #couplegoals 

user12: i was there and omg they are the sweetest, y/n really compliments charles well 

╰ user4: really? i love that 

╰ user15: STOP I CANT 

user7: THE OUTFIT IM DYING 

-

@yourmom posted on their insta

yourusername , charles_leclerc & others liked 

waited for the last of my children to arrive home to finish decorating the tree 

tagged @yourusername @charles_leclerc

view all comments 

user1: IM SOBBING, Y/N’S MOM CONSIDERS CHARLES ONE OF HER CHILDREN 

user2: LET ME JUST TAKE A MOMENT TO APPRECIATE THIS CAPTION 

yourusername: love you mama <3 

charles_leclerc: thank you for letting me be part of this family tradition <3 

╰ liked by yourusername & yourmom 

user15: i’ll be crying for 5-10 business days, no one talk to me 

╰ user3: you and me both 

╰ user7: same here 

-

@yourusername posted on their insta   

charles_leclerc , landonorris & others liked 

home sweet home with my love 🥰

tagged @charles_leclerc 

view all comments 

user1: my parents 

user3: y/n is so wholesome, i love her with charles 

charles_leclerc: no where else id rather be ❤️ 

╰ liked by yourusername 

landonorris: i need to know, who won the gingerbread house contest ? 

╰ yourusername: hehe me and my sister 😹

╰ liked by landonorris & yoursister

user4: charles looks so happy 

user10: is no one gonna talk about the cute reindeers 

╰ liked by yourusername 

-

@yoursister posted on their story  

caption: thanks auntie y/n and uncle charlie for bringing my sweet pea to see the lights, she absolutely loved it <3 

╰ yourusername replied: anything for my niece, even if she did kick me out of the passenger seat to sit next to charles 

You and Charles carefully walked back into your childhood home, your niece fast asleep in Charles’ arms, her little head on his shoulder. 

“How was it?” your sister asked as she took the sleeping child from Charles “Great, she was in complete awe the whole time” you told your sister smiling “She even got to sit in the passenger seat” you added looking at Charles with an amusing look 

“How was I supposed to say no when she gave me the cutest dimpled smile” He exclaimed chuckling causing you and your sister to join in 

“Well I just appreciate you taking her, we should get going, but we’ll see you at Christmas?” your sister asked as she repositioned the child in her arms so she could slip her boots on 

“For sure” You replied, leaning in to give your sister a side hug and leaving a kiss on the sleeping girls forehead 

“Thanks auntie Y/N for taking me to the lights” your niece mumbled half awake, half asleep 

“Anything for you sweet girl” you told the girl back before showing your sister out, making sure her and your niece were safely in the car before shutting the door and turning to your boyfriend who let out a yawn causing you to chuckle

“Is someone tired?” you asked playfully, walking into his arms looking up at him  “Maybe a little bit” he said in response to your question looking down at you

 “Why don’t I make us some hot cocoa and then we can go cuddle?” You offered “Sounds good to me” he smiled and leant down to give you a quick kiss, knowing you were both enjoying this peaceful moment

-

@yourusername posted on their insta   

charles_leclerc , yoursister & others liked 

its a winter wonderland ❄️

tagged @charles_leclerc

view all comments 

user1: they’re so cute it hurts 

user2: this called me single in so many way 

user6: i just want this 

╰ user5: same 

╰ user10: same 

╰ user8: same 

user11: so we’re all just single this winter season? 

╰ user1: looks that way 

charles_leclerc: never met anyone who loves snow as much as you do 

charles_leclerc: my little snow angel 👼 

╰ yourusername: that is so cheesy but i love it 

╰ charles_leclerc: i love you 

╰ yourusername: i love you 😘 

-

@charles_leclerc posted on their story  

caption: cuddle pile 

*replies have been disabled* 

@yourusername posted on their story  

caption: my own prince charming 🤍

*replies have been disabled* 

-

@charles_leclerc posted on their insta   

yourusername, pierregasly, landonorris & others liked 

never been happier then when im with you. 

je t’aime, mon amour 🤍 

tagged: @yourusername

view all comments 

user1: OKAY I CANT 

user2: anyone else just want to climb under a rock for the rest of their existence 

╰ user3: yes 

user4: if anyone needs me i’ll be taking a bath with my toaster 

yourusername: charles, im blushing 

yourusername: i love you..almost as much as i love snow 

╰ charles_leclerc: ALMOST AS MUCH? that hurts 

╰ user9: y/n and her snow..the real iconic pairing here 

╰ user15: agreed @user9

pierregasly: seriously though @yourusername how many times did he fall on the ice ? 

╰ landonorris: we need to know @yourusername

╰ user7: y/n please give us the information we all need 

╰ yourusername: only a few times .maybe a bit more..

╰ liked by pierregasly & landonorris 

╰ charles_leclerc: babeeeee dont expose me and my terrible skating skills 

╰ yourusername: my deepest apologies..but seriously i’m afraid to take you skating again.. 

-

@charles_leclerc posted on their story  

caption: happy holidays everyone. hope everyone is spending time with the people they love the most ❤️

*replies disabled* 

@yourusername posted on their story

captions: christmas dessert prep 🥧 & happy holidays everyone ❤️

*replies disabled* 

-

@yourusername posted on their story  

caption: weekend getaway ⛷️❄️

╰ yourbestfriend: have so much fun ;) 

╰ landonorris: cant wait to hear all about it..;) 

╰ yourusername: why are you being weird? do you know something? 

-

@yourusername posted on their insta   

yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc, pierregasly & others liked 

he hasn’t stopped looking at me like this…what is he planning 🤭

tagged @charles_leclerc

view all comments 

user1: get yourself someone that looks at you the way charles looks at y/n 

user2: where can i find one of these ? asking for a friend 😩

user3: god has favourites 

charles_leclerc: why do i have to be planning something? can’t i just admire my beautiful girlfriend

user5: charles anytime y/n is around: 🥰🥰🥰

@charles_leclerc posted on his story  

caption: i love you 

╰ yourusername: i love you more 

╰ pierregasly: have you done it yet? 

╰ charles_leclerc: no..soon though..! 

-

@yourusername posted on their insta   

charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, pierregasly & others liked 

not captured in these photos, the tears rolling down my face 

my forever 🥹💍 ✨

tagged: charles_leclerc 

view all comments 

yourbestfriend: YAYYYYY HE DID IT !!!! 

╰ yourusername: YOU KNEW?

╰ yourbestfriend: OF COURSE, WHY ELSE DID I MAKE SURE YOU HAD YOUR NAILS DONE 

user1: OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG 

user2: THEYRE GETTING MARRIED 

user3: I’M CRYING user4: THEY FOUND THEIR FOREVER, NO ONE TALK TO ME 

landonorris: congratulations ! it was hard keeping this a secret  

╰ yourusername: YOU KNEW TOO? 

╰ landonorris: yes, i was with him when he bought it 😎

charles_leclerc: cant wait for a forever of snow ball fights, ski trips, holidays with our families, laughs, cuddles, i could keep going but you get the point. 

╰ yourusername: 🥹🥹🥹

charles_leclerc: i love you, mon amour ❤️

╰ liked by yourusername 

@charles_leclerc posted on their insta  

yourusername, landonorris, pierregasly & others liked 

here’s to forever mon amour ❤️💍

tagged: yourusername 

view all comments 

yourusername: no one else i’d rather spend the rest of my life with ❤️

╰ liked by charles_leclerc 

╰ user2: im never moving on from this 

user3: they are my roman empire 

user5: im😭 so 😭happy 😭for 😭them 😭

pierregasly: congrats man! 😁

╰ liked by charles_leclerc

landonorris: congrats mate !! 

╰ liked by charles_leclerc

You and Charles were back at the cabin you were staying at for the weekend. Charles was talking on the phone with his brothers and his mom getting their congratulations even though you made sure your immediate family members knew before you both decided to post on social media. 

You were sitting by the fireplace, curled up with a hot cocoa wearing one of Charles’ sweatshirts, admiring the ring on your finger, you still couldn’t believe you were marrying the love of your life. It felt like a dream, one you never wanted to wake up from. 

“What are you thinking about mon amour?” Charles asked coming into the living area off of the phone. He sat beside you, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer to him 

“Just this” you told him referring to the ring he gave you a few hours prior “Cant believe I’m going to be your wife” you smiled, looking at him 

“I’d marry you right now if it was an option” He told you returning the same, lovesick smile you were giving him.

“I think our mothers would have heart attacks if we eloped” You joked, knowing your mother was already in wedding mode even if it had only been a few hours “I know” he chuckled, agreeing with you 

“Seriously though I’m so lucky” You said giving him a kiss on the cheek 

“I’m the lucky one” Charles told you, kissing your head as you laid it on his shoulder “You’re my everything”.

You couldn’t see him but you could hear his smile and you wore a very similar one on your own face.

This was your forever and you couldn’t be happier. 

-

ahhh i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! i already have so many other ideas in the works so if this does well i'll definitely start working on them. anyways feel free to comment your thoughts and happy holidays !

[urdreamydoodles]

Would it be alright if I asked for some X Men headcannons with all the characters you currently write for where the reader has deals with chronic hip pain however she doesn't tell them that it occasionally pops out and she can pop it back in herself because she doesn't want to bother them with an issue she can resolve herself until she has to do it in front of them while on a mission? I'm so sorry if this breaks any request rules or guidelines I couldn't find a post that had them listed! Also I just wanted to say I really enjoy your writing and I look forward to anything you post!

X-Men x Reader

You have chronic hip pain and they find out about it

You have been hiding your chronic hip pain from your partner, fearing you would be a burden, but during a mission or in a vulnerable moment, the truth comes out.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Jean Grey, Wade Wilson & Rogue

As someone who suffers from multiple chronic pain in different joints, as well as one in the hips, this prompt particularly touches me, so thank you. I hope you like it ♡ And thank you for the compliment! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- Being with Logan is intense, both physically and emotionally. You love his fierce protectiveness, his strength, and his unwavering loyalty, but you also know he tends to worry—especially about you. That's why you’ve kept your chronic hip pain to yourself, knowing how he’d react if he found out you were dealing with it alone. Logan has enough on his plate without adding your physical issues into the mix, and besides, you’ve gotten good at managing the pain. It’s not like it affects your life in any major way—at least, that’s what you’ve told yourself.

- On a particularly dangerous mission, your hip starts acting up. You’re deep in enemy territory, and the stakes are high. You manage to push through the discomfort for most of the mission, but as you land from a jump, your hip finally gives out. The pain is sudden and sharp, and you know you need to pop it back into place. Trying to stay discreet, you find cover and do what you’ve always done—adjusting your leg to realign your hip with a grimace. Unfortunately, Logan notices immediately. He’s always been attuned to your every move, and the second he sees you in pain, he’s by your side in an instant.

- “What the hell are you doing?” His gruff voice cuts through the tension as he kneels next to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern. You try to brush it off, but Logan isn’t having any of it. “That ain’t somethin’ you hide from me,” he growls, his gaze hard. You explain the situation—how it’s been a chronic problem for years and that you didn’t want to worry him. Logan’s jaw clenches, his frustration palpable. “Darlin’, you don’t get to decide what I worry about. That’s my job.”

- After that, Logan is relentless in making sure you’re taken care of. He’s constantly checking on you, offering to carry you when your hip bothers you, and giving you space to rest when you need it. His gruff exterior melts away when it comes to your well-being, and his protective instincts kick into overdrive. “Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you go through this alone,” he tells you one night as he helps you adjust your leg after a long day. He’s gentle, far more so than anyone would expect from him, his hands careful as he massages the sore muscles around your hip.

- Logan’s solution is simple: he makes sure you never feel like a burden. Whether it’s during missions or at home, he’s always there, watching your back and offering his help without hesitation. “We’re a team, remember?” he says one day, his hand resting on your hip, his thumb brushing over the spot where the pain usually resides. “And that means you don’t have to deal with anythin’ on your own.”

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- Remy is perceptive, always reading between the lines and noticing things others might miss. That's part of what makes him such a great partner, but it’s also what makes it harder for you to hide your chronic hip pain from him. You've managed to keep it under wraps for the most part, popping your hip back into place whenever it slips without him noticing. Remy is always so full of energy, so carefree, and you don't want to dampen that with your issues, especially when you can handle them yourself—at least, that’s what you’ve convinced yourself.

- During a mission, though, things go wrong. You’re in the middle of a heated fight, dodging attacks and moving quickly when your hip slips out of place. The pain is sharp and immediate, and you know you need to pop it back in before you can continue. Without thinking, you duck behind cover, quickly adjusting your leg to realign your hip. As you do, you hear Remy’s voice in your ear, laced with concern. “Chère, what you doin’? You okay?”

- He catches you mid-movement, his sharp eyes narrowing as he puts the pieces together. Remy quickly makes his way over to you, worry etched across his face. “Dis ain’t somethin’ you been dealin’ wit’ alone, right?” he asks, his usual playful tone replaced with something more serious. You try to downplay it, explaining that it’s been a chronic issue and that you didn’t want to bother him with it. Remy frowns, his eyes darkening as he kneels beside you. “You tink I don’t want to know when you hurtin’? C’mon, chère, dat ain’t how we do t’ings.”

- After that mission, Remy becomes even more attentive. He insists on helping you whenever your hip starts acting up, whether it's offering his shoulder to lean on or massaging the area when the pain gets bad. He’s surprisingly tender, his usual flirtatious demeanor softening into something more protective when it comes to your well-being. “Ain’t no need to be shy wit’ me, ma belle,” he says one night, his hands gentle as he rubs the sore muscles in your leg. “I’m here for all of it, pain an’ all.”

- Remy never makes you feel like a burden, instead turning every moment of vulnerability into an opportunity to show how much he cares. He’s always there, with a wink and a smile, but beneath that charm is a deep concern for your happiness and health. “You don’t ever need to hide from me, chère,” he says one evening as the two of you sit together, his arm wrapped around your waist. “We a team, you an’ me. I’m in dis for de long haul.” And in those moments, you realize that with Remy by your side, you’ll never have to face the pain alone.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- Kurt has always been so graceful, moving through life with a lightness and ease that’s almost magical. You admire that about him, and you’ve never wanted to weigh him down with your chronic hip pain. He’s so gentle, so kind, always focused on making sure you’re happy and comfortable. You’ve managed your pain well enough, not wanting to bother him with something you’ve been handling on your own for years, especially since it’s always been more of an inconvenience than anything else. But on a mission, when you’re both deep in hostile territory, your hip finally gives out in the worst possible way.

- You’ve trained yourself to ignore the pain when it flares up, but this time, it’s different. The terrain is uneven, and after one wrong landing, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, searing pain. Kurt is mid-teleport, taking out enemies with his acrobatic movements when you feel it happen. You’re quick to duck behind a boulder, gritting your teeth as you try to realign it without making a scene. You don’t want to distract him from the mission, but as soon as you try to pop it back into place, Kurt appears beside you in a flash of sulfuric smoke.

- His yellow eyes widen with concern as he takes in the situation. “Liebes, what’s wrong?” His voice is full of worry, and you can’t bring yourself to brush him off. You explain quickly, telling him how your hip has been a problem for a long time and how you’ve been managing it yourself. Kurt’s brows knit together as he listens, and when you finish, he shakes his head, looking hurt but not angry. “Why did you not tell me?” he asks softly, gently helping you shift your leg to ease the pain. “You should never have to suffer alone.”

- After the mission, Kurt makes it his personal mission to ensure you never have to handle your hip pain by yourself again. He starts incorporating exercises into your routine to strengthen the muscles around your hip, always careful to avoid anything that might aggravate it. He’s patient and understanding, never making you feel like a burden for needing help. “You are my world, Liebes,” he tells you one night as you rest together, his tail curling affectionately around your leg. “I would never want you to suffer in silence.”

- He becomes your constant support, both physically and emotionally. Whether he’s helping you during a flare-up or teleporting you somewhere more comfortable when the pain becomes too much, Kurt never hesitates to be by your side. His love for you is unwavering, and he makes sure you know that your pain will never be a burden to him. “You are everything to me,” he says one evening, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And I will always be here to help you, no matter what.”

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- You’ve been managing your chronic hip pain for years, never feeling the need to burden anyone with it, especially Scott. He's the leader of the X-Men, always juggling so many responsibilities that your small physical ailment seems trivial in comparison. You've gotten used to popping your hip back into place whenever it slips, and it’s never been a problem—until now. On missions, you’ve always been careful to avoid any situation that might aggravate it, keeping your pain to yourself and maintaining your focus on the task at hand.

- But today, the pain hits harder than usual, probably from the heavy landing you made after leaping from a ledge during a mission. You can feel it—the sharp, familiar ache—and you know it’s only a matter of time before it gives out. In the middle of the fight, you try to ignore it, but the pain intensifies until your hip finally pops out of place. You freeze, desperately needing to pop it back in, but the mission is still ongoing. Without thinking, you quickly duck behind cover and try to discreetly adjust yourself, hoping Scott doesn’t notice.

- Unfortunately, Scott sees everything. His eyes narrow behind his visor, and you can feel his laser-sharp focus honing in on you, even in the chaos of the battle. “Are you okay?” His voice crackles through your comms, calm but laced with concern. You grit your teeth, trying to brush it off. “I’m fine, Scott. Just need a minute.” But Scott knows you too well, and he doesn’t believe you for a second. When the battle ends, he rushes over to you, his face etched with worry. “What’s going on? I saw you struggling back there.”

- You sigh, realizing there’s no hiding it anymore. You explain the hip pain, how it’s been a chronic issue for years, and how you didn’t want to bother him with it. Scott’s expression shifts from concern to frustration—not with you, but with the fact that you’ve been suffering in silence. “You should have told me,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t have to handle this alone.”

- From that point on, Scott makes it his personal mission to help you manage your condition. He insists on finding ways to make your missions less physically taxing, even if it means altering strategies or teaming you with someone who can assist if needed. At home, he’s constantly asking if you need anything, researching exercises that might help strengthen your hip. And every time your hip starts to hurt, he’s there, offering support, both physically and emotionally, never making you feel like a burden. "You're part of this team," he tells you one night as you lay in bed. "And you're the most important part of my life. Don't ever think you're bothering me.”

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik has always been a man of immense strength, both physically and emotionally. You admire his resilience, his determination to fight for what he believes in, and you’ve never wanted to seem weak in his eyes. Your chronic hip pain has been a constant companion for years, but you’ve always managed to handle it on your own. Erik has enough battles to fight, and you don’t want to burden him with something as small as your occasional discomfort. But during a high-stakes mission, when your hip finally gives out, there’s no hiding it anymore.

- The mission is intense, with enemies surrounding you on all sides. You’re doing your best to keep up with Erik’s powerful presence, but as you dive for cover, your hip slips out of place. The pain is immediate and excruciating, but you try to push through it, not wanting to slow Erik down. As you quickly duck behind cover, you attempt to pop your hip back into place, hoping Erik doesn’t notice. But of course, Erik is far too perceptive, and his sharp eyes catch the movement instantly.

- “What are you doing?” His voice is stern, and you can feel his eyes burning into you as he approaches. You try to brush it off, but Erik’s not one to be deceived. He crouches down beside you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he looks at you with concern. “You’re in pain,” he states, his tone softening slightly. You explain the situation, telling him about your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it yourself. Erik’s expression darkens, and you can see the frustration in his eyes—not at you, but at the fact that you’ve been suffering in silence.

- “You should have told me,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and disappointment. “I would never want you to hide something like this from me.” From that moment on, Erik takes it upon himself to ensure you never have to deal with your hip pain alone again. He may be a man of power, but when it comes to you, his touch is always gentle, his concern always genuine. He begins making adjustments to his plans, always considering your well-being and ensuring you’re never pushed beyond your limits.

- Erik is fiercely protective, and after learning about your hip, his protective instincts only intensify. He finds ways to make your missions less physically demanding, always checking in to make sure you’re comfortable. At home, he’s constantly asking how you’re feeling, offering massages and making sure you’re resting when you need it. “You’re important to me,” he tells you one night, his hand resting on your hip as you lay together in bed. “And I will never let you go through this alone.” With Erik by your side, you feel safe, knowing that he’ll always be there to help you through the pain.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- Wanda has always been deeply attuned to emotions, both hers and yours. She’s someone who understands pain and struggle, having lived through so much herself, but you’ve never wanted to weigh her down with your own chronic hip pain. It’s been a part of your life for years, something you’ve learned to manage on your own, and though it’s frustrating at times, it’s never felt like something worth sharing with Wanda—until the day you’re on a mission together, and everything changes.

- The mission is intense, filled with chaos and danger, and you’re doing your best to keep up. But in the middle of a fight, as you dodge an attack, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, searing pain. You bite back a gasp, quickly ducking behind cover as you try to pop your hip back in without drawing attention. But before you can even try, you feel a gentle pulse of energy wrap around you. Wanda’s magic—red and warm—flows over you, and you know she’s sensed something is wrong.

- “What’s happening?” Wanda’s voice echoes in your mind, her concern immediately apparent. You don’t want to distract her from the battle, but you can’t hide the truth. You explain quickly, telling her about your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it alone. Wanda doesn’t hesitate. In an instant, she teleports to your side, her eyes glowing with a fierce, protective light. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, her voice filled with worry, but there’s no anger in her tone, only concern.

- Wanda helps you through the pain, using her magic to gently ease your hip back into place. Her touch is soft, her presence comforting, and in that moment, you realize just how much you’ve been holding back from her. After the mission, Wanda makes it clear that you don’t have to deal with your pain alone anymore. She starts using her magic to help manage your hip, casting healing spells and creating charms to keep the pain at bay. “You’re not a burden,” she tells you one evening as you sit together, her hand resting on your hip. “We’re in this together. Always.”

- With Wanda’s support, you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. She never lets you feel like a burden, and her love for you is unwavering. Whenever the pain flares up, Wanda is there, using her magic to make it easier for you. She becomes your constant source of strength, and with her by your side, you feel like you can handle anything. “You don’t have to hide your pain from me,” she says softly one night, her fingers gently tracing your skin. “I’ll always be here to help you, no matter what.”

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

- Being with Pietro is like living in a whirlwind. He’s always moving, always full of energy, and you love the excitement he brings into your life. But that same energy is part of the reason you’ve never told him about your chronic hip pain. You didn’t want to slow him down, didn’t want him to feel like he had to adjust his pace for you. You’ve been handling the pain on your own for years, and it’s never been an issue—until the day your hip gives out during a mission.

- You’re both in the middle of a high-speed chase, running through the city as you try to outmaneuver your enemies. Pietro’s a blur of silver and blue, darting ahead while you do your best to keep up. But as you leap over a barrier, your hip slips out of place, sending a sharp pain shooting through your leg. You stumble, biting back a cry as you duck behind cover, trying to pop your hip back in as quickly as possible. You don’t want Pietro to notice, but of course, he’s already there in an instant.

- “What’s wrong?” Pietro’s voice is sharp with concern, and before you can even answer, he’s crouching beside you, his blue eyes scanning you for injuries. You try to brush it off, but Pietro’s not having it. “Tell me what’s going on,” he insists, his voice softer now but still filled with worry. Reluctantly, you explain about your chronic hip pain, how you’ve been dealing with it yourself because you didn’t want to bother him. Pietro’s expression shifts, and for a moment, he looks hurt. “You think I wouldn’t want to know?” he asks quietly.

- From that moment on, Pietro refuses to let you suffer in silence. He’s always checking in on you, making sure you’re comfortable and never pushing you too hard. He even slows down for you when he needs to, never making you feel like you’re holding him back. “You’re not a burden,” he tells you firmly one day as you sit together, his arm wrapped around your waist. “I’d rather be at your pace than leave you behind.”

- Pietro’s love for you is as fast and fierce as everything else he does, and he makes sure you never have to handle your pain alone again. Whether it’s carrying you when your hip is acting up or making sure you have a comfortable place to rest, he’s always by your side. “You’re everything to me,” he says one night as he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll always take care of you, no matter how fast or slow we have to go.”

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- Jean is the most intuitive person you’ve ever known, her empathy so strong that it’s almost impossible to hide anything from her. But you’ve managed to keep your chronic hip pain a secret, not because you don’t trust her, but because you didn’t want to worry her. Jean has so much on her plate, with her powers and the constant responsibilities of being an X-Man. You’ve always handled your hip pain on your own, and it never seemed like something worth burdening her with—until one day, when you’re on a mission together, and it becomes impossible to hide.

- The mission is going well, but as you leap from a ledge, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, sudden pain. You try to hide it, biting your lip as you duck behind cover, quickly attempting to pop your hip back into place. But you can feel Jean’s presence in your mind before you can even move. Her concern washes over you, her mental voice soft but urgent. Are you okay? You sigh, knowing there’s no hiding it from her now. “I’m fine, Jean,” you say out loud, but she’s already at your side, her eyes full of worry.

- “You’re not fine,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. Jean listens quietly as you explain your chronic hip pain, how it’s been an issue for years, and how you’ve been managing it on your own. She frowns, her brows knitting together as she processes what you’re telling her. “You should have told me,” she says softly, her hand resting on your arm. “I could have helped you.” There’s no anger in her voice, only concern and a deep, unwavering love. You feel her empathy wrapping around you like a warm blanket, soothing your fears and making you realize that you don’t have to carry this burden alone.

- From that moment on, Jean makes sure you never have to deal with your hip pain in silence. She’s always checking in on you, using her telepathy to gently monitor how you’re feeling without being intrusive. She even starts researching ways to help manage the pain, from physical therapy exercises to mental techniques for pain management. “We’ll figure this out together,” she tells you one day as you sit together, her hand resting on your hip. “You don’t have to go through this alone anymore.”

- Jean is endlessly supportive, both mentally and physically. Whenever your hip starts acting up, she’s there, offering to help you realign it or using her telekinesis to make the process less painful. Her empathy and care make you feel cherished, and she never makes you feel like a burden. “You’re my partner,” she says one evening as you lay together, her fingers gently tracing circles on your skin. “And that means we share everything—the good and the bad. I’m here for you, always.” With Jean by your side, you know that you’ll never have to face your pain alone again.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

- Wade is anything but conventional, and that’s one of the things you love most about him. He’s chaotic, loud, and completely unpredictable, but he’s also fiercely protective of you. You’ve never wanted to burden him with your chronic hip pain, though. He already has enough on his plate, what with his healing factor and constant battle scars. Your hip pain seems so small compared to everything he deals with, so you’ve been managing it on your own—until one day, when Wade finds out in the most Wade way possible.

- You’re both in the middle of a mission, and things are going as well as they ever do when you’re working with Deadpool, which is to say: absolute chaos. Wade is cracking jokes, slicing through enemies, and generally causing mayhem, while you’re doing your best to stay focused. But then, as you dive to avoid an explosion, your hip slips out of place with a painful pop. You grit your teeth, ducking behind cover to pop it back in, hoping Wade doesn’t notice. Unfortunately, he does.

- “Babe! What the hell was that?” Wade’s voice comes over the comms, full of concern, and before you can even respond, he’s next to you, his mask tilted as if he’s trying to get a better look at you. “Did your hip just do the thing? You didn’t tell me you had a thing!” You sigh, knowing there’s no avoiding the conversation now. You explain about your chronic hip pain, how it’s been an issue for years, and how you’ve been handling it yourself because you didn’t want to bother him. Wade stares at you for a moment before letting out a dramatic gasp. “Bother me? Babe, I literally regrow limbs. I think I can handle a little hip action.”

- From that moment on, Wade makes it his personal mission to make sure you never have to deal with your hip pain alone. He turns it into a running joke, calling himself your “personal hip specialist” and constantly offering to “massage your beautiful, badass hip.” But beneath the jokes, Wade is genuinely concerned for you, and he takes your pain seriously. He starts carrying you around whenever your hip acts up, always cracking jokes to make you laugh, but you can tell he’s keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re okay.

- “You’re my hot, kickass partner,” Wade says one night as you both relax at home, his head resting on your lap. “And if you think for one second that I wouldn’t want to help you with this, you’re crazy. I mean, crazier than me, and that’s saying something.” Wade’s love may be unconventional, but it’s fierce and unwavering, and he makes sure you never feel like a burden. Whenever your hip pain flares up, Wade is there with a joke and a helping hand, making you feel cherished and cared for, no matter what.

Rogue (Anna Marie)

- Rogue has always been cautious with you, careful not to hurt you with her powers. She’s your fiercely protective Southern belle, and you love her for that. But when it comes to your chronic hip pain, you’ve kept it to yourself. You never wanted her to feel like she had to take care of you when she already deals with so much of her own struggles. You’ve gotten used to quietly popping your hip back in place when needed, but it’s something you don’t plan on letting her see—until one mission changes everything.

- You’re both out in the field, dealing with a group of rogue Sentinels. The battle is intense, and you’re focused, trying to keep up with Rogue’s flying acrobatics. But as you leap out of the way of one of the robot’s attacks, your hip slips out of place with a sharp, agonizing pain. You stumble behind some rubble, gritting your teeth as you try to pop it back into place. Unfortunately, Rogue sees the whole thing.

- “Sugar, what’s goin’ on?” she asks, her voice filled with concern as she hovers above you. She lands beside you, reaching out as if to help, but stops herself, her gloved hands hovering just inches from your arm. You hesitate, not wanting to burden her, but the worry in her green eyes convinces you to tell the truth. You explain your chronic hip pain and how you’ve been dealing with it yourself because you didn’t want her to worry. Rogue listens carefully, her brow furrowed, and when you finish, she lets out a long sigh.

- “You think Ah wouldn’t wanna know somethin’ like that?” she asks softly, her accent thick with emotion. “Ah love you, sugah, and if you’re hurtin’, Ah need to know. It don’t matter if it’s somethin’ you’re used to. Ah want to help.” From that moment on, Rogue makes it her mission to help you in any way she can. Whenever your hip acts up, she’s quick to offer her strength—lifting you, carrying you, or even just sitting with you until the pain passes. She makes sure you know that you’re never a burden to her.

- Rogue’s love is as strong as she is, and she refuses to let you face your pain alone. She’s always there, whether it’s helping you get comfortable or making sure you have a supportive cushion to sit on. “You’re mah heart,” she whispers one night as she gently rests her head against yours, her gloved hand resting on your hip. “Ah’ll take care of you, just like you take care of me.”

[ninii-winchester]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 1)

Pairing : Boss!Dean Winchester X Assistant!Reader

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, not proofread, and tbh I don’t even know where this is going.

A/n: new series (hopefully) First time writing an AU. Don’t let this flop please🙏🏻

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean Winchester is the CEO of Winchester Co. for the past four years. He’s the oldest son of John Winchester the found and owner of Winchester Co., a real estate business spread all over the country. His office corner suite on the top of the floor in the building with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline. The décor is modern yet understated, featuring a large mahogany desk, plush leather chairs, and abstract art on the walls. Behind the desk is a sleek bookshelf lined with awards, framed contracts. A smart wall panel controls lighting, climate, and the room’s privacy settings.

On the top floor other than the CEO’s office is his personal assistant’s work space. It’s a sleek, efficient area with a streamlined desk equipped with multiple monitors for scheduling, managing calls, and overseeing the flow of appointments. The space is minimalist, with soft lighting and ergonomic seating, offering both a professional and welcoming atmosphere for visitors waiting to meet the CEO

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.” Y/n said entering his office. Dean looked up from his computer and glanced at the woman standing in the doorway with a styrofoam cup in her hands. “Got you your coffee.” She said holding it up. The man nodded and she entered the room completely, moving to hand him his daily dose of caffeine, which has been the routine for the past four years.

Y/n reached his side and he took the cup from her hands gracefully and placed it onto the table before pulling her down onto his lap. Y/n gasped at the sudden pull and he grinned up at her.

“Good morning baby.” Dean leaned up to place a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re late.” He commented resting his hands on her hips.

“Sorry boss, my boyfriend is a bit clingy in the morning.” She replied with a mocking smile. “Acts like a baby doesn’t let me leave when I spend the night.” She added with a pout. Dean barked out a loud laugh and it was moments like these that he was thankful for having the whole floor to himself.

“Acts like a baby, you say?” Dean feigned curiosity. “Well tell him you’re my mine and I need you here on time.” Dean mock reprimanded her. Y/n rolled her eyes at his teasing.

Dean Winchester is a private man. He doesn’t like expressing his emotions or talk about his personal life. He’s a workaholic and is married to his work. He had been working at this company ever since he was in college. While perusing his degree in business he did part take in business matters, worked as an assistant for his father. He’d worked hard for this title and four years ago he was appointed at the CEO of the company when his father stepped down.

When Dean was appointed CEO, he clearly needed an assistant too. He confided in his best friend, Castiel. Although Cas also had a degree in business administration he was not interested in taking over his father’s business and was rather interested in charity work and philanthropy. Castiel had suggested Dean to appoint Y/n as his PA, since he knew her from college and she had remarkable skills as well.

Although Dean did appoint her on Cas’ insistence he was a bit skeptical of her skills she needed a ‘recommendation’ to get a job. For the whole year, Dean made her work relentlessly, putting her skills to the test and demanding a high level of performance to prove her worth. And she did. With her hard work and extremely remarkable skills she impressed Dean, more than professionally.

In a typical cliche manner, the grumpy boss fell for his assistant. Though persuading her was a challenge for Dean. She was hell bent on keeping things professional and not wanting to cross the boundaries at her workplace. She was a hard nut to crack but eventually Dean worked his charm on her, showing her beyond his grumpy boss personality and wooing her with extreme gestures.

Now the two had been dating for almost three years and the only person who knew about them is none other than Castiel, the one who introduced them. Even Sam was not in on the secret.

“Can I go back to work, now?” Y/n asked getting up from his lap but he kept his hold firm on her hips, not letting her leave.

“No.” Y/n pouted in response, she hated when he did this, holding her hostage while at work . She really wanted to keep her personal and professional life apart, not wanting anyone to find out or even think for a second she’s sleeping with her boss.

“Dean.” She scolded when he kissed her pouty lips.

“Relax sweetheart, nobody’s coming up here anytime soon.” He shrugged and she sighed loudly, indicating her defeated even if she was reluctant. “Besides, I’ve got news for you.” Y/n raised her brow in curiosity urging him to continue. “We,” he traced her arm with his finger. “are going on a vacation.” Dean beamed at her.

“A vacation? We?” Y/n furrowed her brows. “Who’s we?” She questioned, clearly not understanding the situation. Is this a office vacation or the top officers vacation or just the two of them.

“You and me. A week in Bahamas.” Dean replied casually.

“A week? You want us to take a leave at the same time? It’d rise suspicion.” She whispered alarmingly.

“Baby, if I’m on leave then you’re on leave automatically. Besides, I’ve asked Cas to manage for a few days for me.” Dean replied. “We both have been working our ass off for the past four years, I think we deserve a vacation.” Dean grinned at her and for the first today, she agreed without interjecting. She’s just as much of a workaholic as Dean. She had taken a day off here and there but never a complete vacation. “Besides I’m dying to spend some time quality time with my girl without her grilling me about work.” Dean sassed and she smacked his arm lightly making him laugh.

“I’m not gonna slack off at work just because I’m dating you.” She said matter of factly. “And I do think we could use a vacation.” She finally agreed making his smile broaden. “God, if anyone could you see right now, Mr. Grumpy Winchester.” She giggled when he rolled his eyes. He loved it when she teased him about being a grumpy ass to everyone else except her but he would never accept it in a million years.

The door swung open and sauntered in Castiel in the flesh. Y/n quickly jumped off of Dean’s lap but relaxed when she saw it was Cas.

“Ever heard of knocking, Cas?” She taunted her friend, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Ah lovebirds. Ever the cautious.” Cas sassed back and Dean snorted earning himself a glare from her. “Don’t stop on my account, just wanted to deliver these, personally.” He said holding up two flight tickets to Bahamas.

“Thanks man.” Dean said getting up from his chair and getting the tickets from his friend. Castiel shot Y/n a teasing grin and she rolled her eyes at him, clearly unbothered by his teasing. He thrives in teasing her because she was the goody two shoes in college and the two had become friends after being paired up for an assignment, so seeing a different version of her around Dean, leaves him anything but amused.

“You are a bad influence on the both of us.” Y/n said feigning an angry glare at Cas.

“Oh dear Y/n, I know.” Cas winked and Dean laughed at his best friends shamelessness. The trio’s camaraderie was a reminder of how personal and professional lives often intersect in unexpected ways.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @graywrites5567

@thelittlelightinthedarkess @enamoredwithbella @winchesterwild78 @myuhh8

[celestialtarot11]

Astrology Observations 🤍✨

Hi friends! Welcome back to another post 💅🏻 today we’ll be looking at astro observations! Please like, comment and reblog to help this blog grow ✨

Aries + Taurus pairing as friends/couple are the show stoppers. They draw attention wherever they go, there’s so much fire between them. Although Taurus is an Earth sign, Taurus does enjoy the finer things in life and passion! Aries helps to bring the heat in the connection and the two have a lot in common. Aries is headstrong, Taurus is as well. Both are self starters and independent. Both know what they want (taurus is a fixed sign) and both know what it takes to create + sustain it.

Aquarius sun experienced being the quiet one in group settings, especially if they were with people they didn’t necessarily understand or get along with. Its not that they aren’t smart, or capable of human interaction. They’re actually great at it, they just preserve their energy for better people/interactions.

Gemini’s love to story tell and embellish their stories! They love adding jokes, flare, and drama to their stories. They’re a bit like Leo-great at storytelling and communicating! Both Leo and Gemini love to entertain 🤍✨

Transits in your 4th house-family will require your attention more, and specifically the Mother could be around a lot more. Physically, emotionally and mentally even if you may not have a great connection. She may try to wiggle her way in your life during these 4th house transits. If you work with ancestors, they will be sending you dreams and messages day to day even more than usual. Expect the things that you need to liberate yourself from will come up in dreams, or day to day. Dreaming of your childhood for example can be triggering to some, whether the dream was good or bad.

Sagittarius are often quiet but have a lot to say when in a proper group setting. They think a lot of the world around them, and I notice they like to be in situations where they can mansplain 🤣 but offering advice and mediating conversations is their specialty. They’re blunt, honest, and get to the point.

Leo women often walk with a lot of respect, flare and spirit. Their head is held high.

Cancer women love going out and love staying home! They have their homebody moments too 💅🏻 cancers love a good time! And are not stuck in their shell as ya’ll may think

Cancer women may also be the type to have fairy tattoos, or tattoos that are delicate. They have tattoos that have a whimsical charm to them, even if it may be considered “dark.” There is an ethereal vibe to it!

Virgo women love planning, decorating and getting family together! Or who they consider family. They love setting the mood, setting the atmosphere, environment. They would be great party planners/wedding planners!

Pisces women may be into cars 👀

Scorpio moon women may get into nursing at some point or considered studying that!

Gemini women may love doing their own nails, and being proud of their art! They love to show off anything that expresses their skill.

Gemini Venus women want to speak different languages but may get frustrated at the effort required 😂 as a gemini venus myself yes

Capricorn moon women may enjoy having a minimalistic setup in their room, colors that are light and simple, but with a dash of darkness or vivid color! They love creating balance in their room and have an eye for intensity through detail

Leo rising commands all the attention in the room for themselves. But I’ve noticed if a Leo rising is not feeling confident in themselves, they can come across as arrogant, and self absorbed. It’s because part of them needs their own attention and space, but the native isn’t realizing that. Or the native doesn’t know how to meet their needs.

Thank you all for being here! I really appreciate it 🥹💗 Please enjoy the little observations I put together! Feel free to like comment and reblog ✨

Paid Readings 💗✨

[edges-of-night]

Imagine where your first kiss with LotR characters would be ♡

Thank you for all your positive responses to my first post! I hope you’ll enjoy this one as well, it was a lot of fun to write!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Aragorn would make your first kiss absolutely romantic. He would take you to a moonlit spot he found in the forest, where you’d listen to a brook and the night birds as he holds your hand. Aragorn kisses you without expecting or demanding anything in return. He is content as long as he can be with you!

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen would playfully guide you to her favourite tower in Rivendell by your hand. She’d smile brightly over her shoulder as you ascend the artful staircase to be closer to the night sky. She’d stargaze with you there, maybe show you a book or two about the Elvish constellations that she keeps up there. You would kiss over such a book, or maybe against the white balustrade.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir is well aware of his charms. When it comes to your first kiss, he teases and plays with you. However, once you share a quiet moment in the ruins of Osgiliath, he gives in to your advances. Leaning against a stone column, the usually shameless man grows silent against the comforting touch you provide.

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

Elrond keeps his house very orderly. He takes it upon himself to sort the library, for example. Since you offered to help him, you have been working all afternoon. “This is the rest,” you’d say with a tired smile and a sigh as you set back the last books. Charmed by your blush of exhaustion in the golden sunlight, Elrond would smooth your hair back and lean in for a thank you kiss.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer would kiss you in the wide grasslands of the Riddermark. Your horseback ride has been interrupted by a sudden storm – the weather here is erratic – forcing you to find shelter in a rock formation. There, Éomer would make sure that you’re alright and dry, and as you’d touch, his heart would skip a beat at your damp hair and puffed lips. Being the man that he is, he’d kiss you passionately then, however offering you to “keep this between us and the rain” should you desire so.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Éowyn loves the hills and cliffs of Edoras. There, she has a secret hiding spot where she used to play as a kid. Now, she uses it for romantic rendezvous’, as she tells you with a smirk. You joke around a bit: “So, I’m your romantic tryst?” – “Perhaps you are!” – before you both lean in for a playful kiss that soon turns into something more romantic, truly.

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

If it was up to Faramir, he’d kiss you anywhere – on the market in Minas Tirith, in the forests of Ithilien, or his castle after the Ring War. However, he couldn’t have chosen a better place than you: a flowery meadow where you sat down with drinks and books to tell each other fantastical stories about magic and dragons. While you lie in his arms, all you need to do is look up to find that Faramir wasn’t even reading the book you held up and instead just admired you. And then, cupping his cheek and gently guiding him toward you is just too tempting!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would kiss you in front of your house in Hobbiton, having accompanied you home after a party at the Green Dragon. He’s a gentleman, so he’d always offer to walk home together. Maybe you’re both a bit tipsy, but either way, you end up leaning against a quiet corner of your house, hidden away in the night shadows, where you share a kiss that Frodo blissfully smiles into.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel would know you’d want to kiss her even before you yourself were really aware of it. One day, while sitting by a brook near her abode in Lothlórien, she’d grin at you because she knows very well the reason for your blush. She’d offer you to sit by her side, or maybe even on her lap, and converse with you before brushing your hair out of your face to finally give you that kiss!

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Gandalf would finally kiss you after a long day of studying. You’ve been sitting in Minas Tirith’s library for hours, pondering ancient magic and recent developments. Once you call it a day, he’d look up and smile at you, like he just remembered something. Then he’d wish you goodnight. “But first…” You’d be lying if you said you haven’t seen it coming from a mile away, but of course you let him have his joy anyway!

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

While usually brash and charming, Gimli is all quiet when it comes to asking you for a kiss while staying in your home. If he was wearing his helmet, he’d take it off, needless to say! You know he meant it to be a chaste forehead kiss, but you like to give your Dwarf a kiss worthy of a song – one that renders him speechless for at least a day. He’d definitely stumble over the doorstep on his way out!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

It is needless to say that Haldir would deny any desire to share a kiss with you until the very last second. After protecting the borders of Lothlórien from orcs, he is badly wounded and in dire need of your healing skills. Though he is ashamed of the vulnerability, he cannot help but marvel at your beauty and compassion while you’re immersed in your task. He’d guise the kiss he gives you in the moonlight as a shameful repayment, but by now you can read his marble face so well that you know better!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas would kiss you swiftly and lightly, like sunshine does when you step outside on a summer morning. Out in Mirkwood, he’d swirl around you like a butterfly to keep your fears away. You’d heard stories about the dark forest, but he knows just how to keep your mind off of it. “There,” he’d smile after your kiss, just shakily enough for you to realise he means this seriously after all, “the fear is gone.”

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry would make a pompous scene out of kissing you. He’d announce it loudly, standing on a table in the Green Dragon. He’d get a blast out of your reaction, whether you’re blushing in embarrassment or laughing brightly at his joy. When he does join you by your chair and pecks your flushing face, the crowd cheers you on!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin would kiss you on a festive night. You’d run through the strawberry fields all night, always hunting the colourful fireworks sent by Gandalf from the hills above. After you break down beneath a tree, laughing and exhausted, Pippin would exclaim something like, “I could kiss you right now!” and quickly lean in.

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Sam keeps a mental list of things he’d like to say to you someday. However, he’s so insecure he doesn’t even dream he’d ever get the chance. But when you’re sitting in the shadows of the sunflower field on a bright summer day, he’d want to seize that opportunity and babble in his adorably timid but sincere manner. But, being embarrassed by his own fumbling, he’d eventually go, “Maybe I oughtta kiss you instead, y’know?” Far be it from you to object!

[cottonlemonade]

hiii i’d like a medium fruit punch lemonade with pomegranate seeds for osamu <3

Mystery Flavor

word count: 779 | avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Osamu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a bit of spice

warnings: mdni

request: fluffy-spicy, midnight hang out with pining friend Osamu

“Haaaa, this is just what I needed.“, you sighed and stretched. Your shoes made a faint splat sound on the still wet asphalt as you and Osamu headed down the street.

The red and green stripes of the convenience store shone friendly up ahead in the night.

“So what did you do that didn’t work?” As much as Osamu hated you dating other men, the growing number of failed first dates did help him learn what you were looking for in a relationship.

“Oh who knows.”, you breathed out, “Maybe it was because he was glued to his phone the whole time or that he didn’t seem interested in any kind of conversation topic I came up with.”

“In his defense, ya do talk about pretty weird stuff sometimes.”, he said, doing a little jump over a shallow puddle - you wanted to copy him, but didn’t quite stick the landing as elegantly and he had to catch you. Osamu met your eyes and was about to say something when you continued walking with the implicitness of a girl entirely oblivious to her best friend's true feelings.

“Thanks. Where was I?”

“Yer lacking conversational skills.”

“Hey now!”, you protested and playfully poked his shoulder, “You loooove my hypotheticals.”

“Yeah yeah…”, he muttered. His hand was still tingly from touching the free skin between your washed out crop top and sweatshorts. He felt like a creep for wishing he could have squeezed your pillowy waist.

“Anyways, he was also just kind of rude and… looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Remind me to never introduce ya to Suna.”, Osamu chuckled.

“Is he the hot guy on your old school team?”

“No, that was me.” He was kind of offended at how hard you laughed about that.

When the doors of the convenience store opened with a soft whirring noise he swerved to the chip aisle with you right behind him. Once two bags were chucked into the little basket in his hands, you went on to the ramen section and much to Osamu’s dismay you were still talking about Suna.

“I bet, at the very least, he would’ve kissed me goodnight.”

“So even if the date is a bust ya would wanna make out with the guy?”, he asked, turning up the judging tone of disgust in his voice that for some reason went completely unnoticed by you as you continued.

“Well, no. But I want him to want to, you know?”

Osamu raised his brow, then walked over to the drink section and looked through the display for your favorite.

“Oh hey, this looks fun. Wanna give it a try?”, you asked next to him and pointed at a wall of identical to-go cups in a fridge. A promotion of the store offered a mystery flavored iced tea for a lot less money than your usual and you were nothing if not a sucker for a good bargain.

Grabbing your favorite drink anyway, Osamu joined you and chose a cup near the top, while you opted for one near the bottom.

After paying you came to a halt in front of the shop, too impatient to see what kind of flavor you got. You both pushed the straws into your cups, toasted and took the first sip.

“Peach and lemongrass.”, Osamu said almost immediately, “Yers?”

“Hm… not sure.”, you said, taking another thoughtful sip, “Maybe passionfruit? Or… hm… mango? And something else. I’m not sure. You wanna try?”

Osamu considered the straw you offered to him for a moment. Without thinking he reached past the cup. Closing the gap between you, he gently held your chin with thumb and index and leaned down to brush his lips against yours. You gasped in surprise and after a first experimental push, he got bolder and swiped his tongue into your mouth. The flavor of the ice tea was refreshing and exotic, mixing with his own. His head began to spin and he wrapped his arm around you to stay grounded as he continued to kiss you. Your soft tummy pressed against him. He was about to lose his mind, heat rose in his cheeks and stomach. You tugged at his hair and his thoughts turned off like a power cut on a TV that was previously just static. You sighed into the kiss and leaned forward for more when he broke from you. Guiltily, you bit your plumped lips, your hand resting on his chest, panting slightly.

“Guava and mint.”, he determined and let you go. He walked a few steps homewards and when he didn’t hear you following, turned around. You were still standing there, frozen.

“Ya comin’ or what?”

a/n: thank you so much for the request! I love cozy late night scenarios - I hope you enjoyed! 🌟