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oxbellows · 7 months ago

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Welcome Home! Nothing Weird Happened.

Written based on @emilybeemartin's spectacular Boromir Lives AU comics, with permission. I might write more, who knows.

My whole thought process here is this: if Boromir lives and makes it back to Minas Tirith, he is about to receive an absolutely ludicrous quantity of bad news. And I for one think it would be both plausible and hilarious for Pippin to be the one who ends up delivering that news. So here we are!

Trigger warnings for that whole pyre situation from Return of the King.

It was fitting, to Boromir’s mind, that the battle for Minas Tirith should be decided by dead men. So many had died for the city of kings already, their blood seeping into her soil like rain. Why, then, should her fate rest solely in the hands of the living? An unnatural justice rang out in the clang of steel against phantom blades, heralding the return of a hope long since given up for lost.

“None but the king of Gondor may command me,” the wraith hissed.

“You?” Boromir had roared. “You, Oathbreaker? I am the heir to the Stewards of Gondor. Generations of my kin have died for an empty throne. None but the king of Gondor may command ME. Here stands the king of Gondor before us, and you will suffer him as I have!”

And suffer him they did. Sickly green washed over the last armored oliphaunt as the dead claimed more souls for their own. Boromir pulled his eyes away from the spectacle and spun his sword in his hand, scanning the area around him for the next foe. He found none. Only the backs of retreating orcs, and weary Men attending to their fallen brothers. That and, out of the corner of his eye, the strangest possible trio of a Man, a Dwarf, and an Elf. Finding no enemy to engage, Boromir instead turned his step toward the strange trio to embrace his friends in the wake of victory.

Aragorn, king of Gondor, did not appear especially regal at the moment. He was covered in grime and gore, surrounded by the corpses of orcs left to rot in the open field. Gimli’s sturdy metal armor was slick with blood, and it dripped steadily off the edge of the axe that he had slung over one shoulder. Legolas, of course, was only as disheveled as he might have been after a short run, clean of the muck that covered the rest of them. His hair still fell properly at his shoulder, what witchcraft did the Elf use to maintain it?

Boromir could only imagine what he himself must look like. He knew that he was damp and smelled like death, which did not bode well for a lordly appearance. Nonetheless, even in all his heavy armor Boromir felt lighter than he had since childhood. The battle was over, fought now only by those straggling beasts that had not managed to escape the field on foot. Boromir was still, impossibly, alive, and so were his companions. So was his king.

The enemy may yet prevail, but Gondor would not fall before the White Tree bloomed again. It was more than his grandfathers had ever dared to hope.

“Is that blood in your hair or just its natural grease?” Boromir asked his king, sliding his sword back into its scabbard and stepping over the body of a fallen orc to approach him.

Aragorn laughed, raising one dirty hand to skim his fingertips over the top of his head. “I cannot say, Captain. I only know that in either case, I would wash it before I present myself to your lord father.”

Boromir clicked his tongue dismissively. “My lord father’s not the one we have to worry about. If my brother hears that I’ve brought Isildur’s heir home in such a state, he’ll throttle me.”

He almost continued speaking. He almost added, if he’s alive. Aragorn heard the unspoken caveat all the same. His dark eyes had a softness in them when he spoke.

“The battle is over, Captain of the White Tower,” Aragorn said. “We must turn our efforts now to the dead and wounded. May we not find you kin among them.”

If the taste of ash settled on the back of Boromir’s tongue, it could be attributed to the smell of Mordor’s filthy army laying dead at his feet, and not to the terrible image that flashed across his mind’s eye of Faramir’s bloodied and unblinking face.

“My father will be well,” Boromir asserted, determined not to speculate on his brother’s wellbeing. “He is past his time as a warrior. He will have commanded our troops from a place of safety within the walls.”

Aragorn inclined his head in assent. His hair really was a sight- black blood had matted chunks of it together, and where they stood now in the open field, with the sun just beginning to peek through the enemy’s unnatural bank of shadow, Boromir could see that his clothes were in much the same state. Perhaps this was why Aragorn so persistently favored black for his travel clothes. Were he wearing any other color, it would be obvious that he was as drenched in the blood of orcs as if he had bathed in it.

A warrior of staggering skill was this king of Men, but he preferred not to proclaim his deadliness to the world. He tucked it away into shadow until such skill was needed. Perhaps one day Boromir might look upon this man that he called brother and not be humbled by the mere sight of him.

Perhaps.

“I will search with a sharp eye, then, for Captain Faramir,” Aragorn promised.

Boromir closed the distance between them to grip Aragorn’s shoulder in thanks. Aragorn returned the gesture with ferocity, digging his fingers into the mail covering Boromir’s upper arm. Gimli thumped Boromir’s back in a heavy handed gesture of approval, and Legolas bowed his head with a coy smile. A river of unspoken words passed between the four of them, about great and important things like love and fear at the end of the world, and then they released each other. Aragorn turned his stride towards the Citadel to lend his knowledge of elvish medicine to the House of Healing. Legolas and Gimli set out together to help carry the wounded into the city for aid. Boromir made for the rocky outcrop at the city’s outermost wall, the one that archers favored for its vantage point. There he was sure he would find rangers, and hopefully news of Faramir.

The walk carried him past countless dead orcs and uruk-hai, but also more dead men and horses than Boromir had ever seen on a single field. For every pair of comrades he saw embrace in giddy relief, another wail of grief reached his ears from somewhere else. His mail grew heavier with every step he took.

Boromir had scarcely made it halfway to the archer’s outpost before he was stopped by the sound of his own name.

“Captain Boromir!” a familiar voice shouted. “You live!”

Boromir stopped and whirled about. There, about ten yards from Boromir, close enough to the outermost wall to be half-concealed in its shadow, crouched a man in a forest-green cloak. His hands still hovered over a fallen Gondorian soldier, as if he had frozen partway through checking for signs of life. Before the man in green rose to stand, he brushed a hand over the fallen one’s face, coaxing his eyes shut before stepping away. Boromir felt a dull pang of grief in his already overburdened heart at the confirmation that yet another of his countrymen was dead. He had no time to acknowledge that pain, though, as the man in green righted himself fully. The green cloak, brown leather vambraces, and longbow on his back all sparked immediate recognition.

Boromir knew this man, had met him before, but his weary mind failed to provide a name for him. It hardly mattered. The uniform he wore told Boromir everything he needed to know. Faramir had been clad exactly the same, the last time Boromir had seen him. This was one of the rangers of Ithilien, his brother’s own company. Hope swelled painfully in his chest. He hastened his step towards the ranger.

The ranger rushed to meet him and performed a quick, obligatory salute when they were close enough to speak comfortably. “My lord,” he greeted, breathless. “Your father thought you dead, but we in Captain Faramir’s company held out hope.” A wide grin split across his face. “You cannot imagine how sorely you’ve been missed!”

Seeing his smile finally dragged the ranger’s name to the front of Boromir’s memory. “Anborn,” he said warmly. “It’s good to see you alive and well. Tell me, what news do you have of my brother?”

Anborn’s smile dropped, giving way to a look of naked concern as quickly as a candle being snuffed out. “I have no news, my lord, none that is not two days old at least.”

"Then give me the old news,” Boromir pressed, trying not to snap.

Anborn grimaced and nodded. “My lord,” he said, haltingly, “The last time I saw your brother, my Captain, was on the day he rode out to reclaim Osgiliath with a company of forty mounted soldiers.”

Boromir could only stare for a long moment, turning over Anborn’s words in his head to try and make them comprehensible. No clarity came to him. “My brother is- in Osgiliath?”

Another grimace. “If he is still there, he is dead.” Boromir’s lungs constricted and froze. Anborn continued, “Osgiliath was overrun more than a week ago. I’ve heard rumors that Faramir made it back to the Citadel, but I cannot say any more than that without inventing rumors myself.”

“The Citadel,” Boromir repeated. He forced breath into his uncooperative lungs. He would go to the Citadel, and he would find Faramir there with their father, incoherent with frustration after arguing strategy with Denethor. He turned on his heel and started walking. Anborn said something as Boromir strode away, but he didn’t hear it properly over the ringing in his ears.

What he had heard of Anborn’s words clamored in his mind- it sounded as if Faramir had taken a company of only forty men to reclaim an overrun city. That would be absurd, though. Faramir may be prone to bouts of melancholy and brooding, but he wasn’t suicidal. And even if he did, for some reason, decide to seek his own death, he would never bring any number of Gondor’s defenders with him to do it.

Your father thought you dead.

Boromir broke into a run.

Faramir didn’t hold sway over all their troops’ movements. Faramir wasn’t the Steward.

He was moving too slowly. Stumbling to a halt, Boromir grasped at the leather straps holding his pauldrons in place and did his best to unfasten them with numb fingers. Denethor had not been the same in recent years. The shadow in the east had darkened his thoughts, day by day, and set him talking as if the end were already here. His gray eyes had glinted in a way that Boromir scarcely recognized when he’d spoken of the One Ring. He’d never favored Faramir, never encouraged him the way he deserved, but the cruelty that had colored Denethor’s every interaction with his secondborn in the year or two before Boromir left shocked him.

Boromir’s pauldrons landed on the ground in a heap, and now he doubled over to escape the shirt of mail. It was a difficult task without taking off his sword belt, but he managed. He needed to be faster, but he could not bear to go unarmed. The chain links poured gracelessly down over his head, yanking his hair as they went, and then he was free. Boromir took off running again, now unencumbered.

Faramir would never plan a suicide mission.

Would he accept one, though, if he was ordered?

Boromir’s feet touched white marble bricks for the first time in months that had felt like decades. He did not pause. Shouts followed him as he went, calling his name or exclaiming surprise. Arches and edifices flew by overhead. Rubble littered the street. He caught glances of bodies crushed under great stones.

Boromir made it to the stairs. His weary legs burned and protested, but he dared not slow his descent. He needed to know where Faramir was, now. He needed to know what had happened in Osgiliath, before any more ideas had the chance to take root in his head. If he finished the line of thinking that Anborn’s news had set off-

Boromir might kill his father with his bare hands.

So, he would not stop, and he would not think, until he found answers.

He reached the top of the stairs.

A small group of guards, maybe five or six, clustered together at the Citadel gate, all spoke over each other in urgent tones. Boromir could not hear most of their words over his own ragged breath, but he caught a few. He heard “Mithrandir” and “Witch King” and “wood”, and then, “Denethor.”

“Where?” Boromir barked. Every one of the men before him startled and turned to him with unabashed fear written across their faces.

If Boromir had looked a mess back on the fields, by now he must appear absolutely deranged. Half his armor gone, hair wild, white shirt drenched with sweat and blood- he could hardly blame the unsuspecting guards for the shock and confusion they displayed so brazenly at his question. Nor could he blame himself for the urge to grab the nearest one and shake him until he spoke sense.

Fortunately for all present, the guard furthest to the left, a man of slight and youthful stature underneath his plate armor, spoke up.

“The House of Stewards,” he said, voice trembling. He pointed in the right direction. “In the tombs. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.”

Boromir ran like he had never done in his life.

For what possible reason would his father and brother be in the tombs in the midst of battle?

He threw himself against the door to the tombs of his forefathers. They gave way with no resistance, and as he stumbled through the opening, he noted that the floor was dusted with splintered wood. This door had already been broken through. There he stopped short.

He could not, for the life of him, make sense of the scene before him.

In the center of the foyer, directly on top of Húrin’s memorial etching, were the remains of- a bonfire? Heaps of ash and charred wood covered the usually immaculate white marble floor, built up into a high, still-smoldering mound in the chamber’s center. The air reeked of smoke. Neither Denethor nor Faramir were in sight, nor was anyone else. The tombs appeared deserted.

“Faramir?” Boromir called warily.

A clang of metal and the scuffle of unshod feet on stone answered his call, and then-

“Boromir!”

A small form collided hard with his midsection, forcing him to take a staggering step back. Small arms wrapped around him like a vice, a familiar vice, and Boromir abruptly realized that he was in the embrace of a hobbit.

“Pippin?” he demanded, aghast.

The young hobbit turned his face up to meet his gaze and a fresh wave of panic seized him. Pippin’s face was coated in ash and streaked with tears.

“Boromir!” Pippin cried again. “You have to help, Gandalf said that healers were coming but nobody came, there was screaming in the halls so I dragged him as far as I could but he’s heavy and I don’t know where Gandalf went and just- just- come here!”

The hobbit released his iron grip around Boromir’s waist in favor of clutching one of his wrists and started hauling him off to one side of the room, into a corridor of mausoleums. There, poking out of the nearest alcove, Boromir spied the lower half of a single black boot.

Pippin pulled him onward when his own pace faltered. With each step he could see more of the body that Pippin had apparently tried to drag to safety. A small, or rather, hobbit-sizedsword lay carelessly discarded on the floor beneath the alcove’s arching entrance where Pippin had dropped it. That would explain the clanging sound Boromir had heard just before being tackled, then. Which would mean that when he called out, Pippin had been guarding this archway with sword in hand.

Pippin’s relentless tugging finally forced Boromir to where he could see the stricken man on the floor.

It was Faramir.

Of course it was Faramir.

A rough, strangled sound echoed through the quiet tombs, and Boromir only realized a moment later that it had come from his own throat. Pippin darted from his side to kneel at his brother’s head, petting his hair and murmuring a soothing word. Faramir did not react in the slightest. He wasn’t dead; Boromir had seen enough dead men in his life to know with unfailing precision the difference between a dead body and a dying one.

No, his brother was not dead. He was only dying.

Boromir dropped to his knees.

In all this time that he had dreaded coming home and hearing that Faramir had fallen in battle, it had never occurred to Boromir that he might watch him die.

“He needs medicine,” Pippin pleaded, his little hand nestled in Faramir’s hair. Boromir now saw that the hobbit was dressed in the garb of the guards of Citadel, mail under a velvet tunic embroidered with the white tree. What had happened in his city? When had this barely-trained halfling become his brother’s last line of defense?

“Go,” Boromir rasped. He touched the hilt of his sword. “I will protect him now. Go to the House of Healing, down one level. Aragorn is there. He will listen to you.”

Without another word, Pippin took off at a sprint. Boromir and Faramir were left alone, together for the first time since Boromir had left for Rivendell.

Boromir wanted to scream.

Instead, he maneuvered himself carefully to sit at his brother’s side. How Pippin had managed to stash Faramir away in this little nook, Boromir had no idea. He could only just find room for himself against the wall without jostling the motionless body beside him. He reached a tentative hand out to lay it on Faramir’s forehead. He paused before he touched skin, momentarily stunned by the radiating heat. When his fingers settled on his brother’s brow, it was like touching metal that had been left in the sun too long. Faramir burned. Boromir gently smoothed his hand over damp hair.

It wasn’t just Faramir’s hair that was damp, actually. It was everything on him. His short beard, the finely embroidered collar of his tunic, the silk of his sleeves. If his fever was so high, it was not so surprising to find him coated in sweat. The choice of clothes, though, was undeniably strange. There was no blood staining the fabric. Had he not been hurt in battle, then? Had he simply been taken by a violent illness? Was there a plague in the city? That might explain the lack of gore but not the presence of finery. Boromir had only ever seen Faramir wear this tunic for ceremonies. He wouldn’t have put it on before battle, and he would certainly have taken it off if he were falling ill.

No, the only reasonable conclusion was that Faramir had not been the one to dress himself. A terrible, unspeakable suspicion wormed its way into his heart.

Boromir almost regretted sending Pippin away without first asking him what had happened to create this bizarre tableau. Almost. His answers could wait until Faramir had been brought safely into the care of physicians. He lifted his hand to stroke Faramir’s hair again, but the slickness that clung to his palm bade him pause.

That wasn’t sweat in his brother’s hair, it was something else, something more viscous. Puzzled beyond words, Boromir brought his hand close to his face to inspect it.

His palm was smeared with oil.

All at once, a dozen disparate fragments of information arranged themselves into nightmarish clarity.

Someone had dressed Faramir for a funeral. Someone had brought him into the place where the bones of their ancestors rested and covered him in oil. Someone had lit a bonfire in the center of the tombs.

Not a bonfire. A pyre.

Someone had tried to burn his little brother alive.

“No,” Boromir whispered, as if he could prevent his next thought from taking shape.

Only one person in Gondor could do any of this without being stopped.

In the tombs, the guard at the gate had said. Both of them, lord and son, with orders from the Steward to be left undisturbed.

Boromir launched himself upright, out of the cramped alcove, and was sick all over the marble floor.

For the second time in a day, Pippin found himself running for someone else’s life. At least he didn’t have so far to go this time. He could not remember ever being so tired. It was also fortunate that he knew already where to find the House of Healing. Gandalf had insisted he memorize the route there as soon as he’d made his oath to Denethor, which was a bit insulting, to be honest, but turned out very useful in the end.

The first time he’d entered the House, just a few days ago, he’d thought it was very full. Most of the rows of clean, simple cots had been occupied by rangers returning from outside the city. As he dashed through the sturdy oaken door now, though, he entered a different world entirely.

The cacophony of sound, smell and movement that surged up to meet him stopped Pippin in his tracks. The House of Healing was so crowded he could not see the far wall. He could barely see the nearest row of cots. Tall ladies rushed about in every direction, shouting orders to one another above a nauseating din of groans and cries. Pippin had been standing guard in a cloud of smoke for hours, and yet the onslaught of ugly and unfamiliar smells that accosted him here made him wish for the scent of smoke again.

His foray into the front lines of a battle had been terrifying. This place might be worse.

Boromir had said that Aragorn was here, though, and Pippin would walk headfirst into an army of orcs right now if it meant that Aragorn would help him. He never wanted to be in charge of anything, ever again, especially not trying to keep great lords and heroes alive. Aragorn was good at that sort of thing, he could take over now. Pippin took a deep breath and began forging a path through the chaos, calling Aragorn’s name as he went.

As he weaved his way through cots, ducking underneath outstretched arms and around long legs, Pippin heard questions following him that he had no desire to answer.

“How old is that boy? Who let a child in the guard?”

"Is that one of those halflings? The wizard’s pet or something?”

“Are you lost, little one?”

Some of these Men had the most terrible manners, clearly. Most of them were bleeding very badly, though, so Pippin could forgive them for their rudeness. He ignored them all and kept moving.

“Aragorn!” he shouted again.

A women that had been rushing by him paused for an instant to glare down at him. “Hush, you,” she scolded, in a voice that spoke of unquestionable authority. She wore a sort of veil with a nice brooch on it, so Pippin supposed she might be in charge here. “Lord Aragorn’s doing very important things right now and I’ll not have you disturbing him.”

Pippin’s heart jumped. “Where is he?” he asked.

The woman tsked and shook her head, making to continue along her original path. She held a bowl in her arms that Pippin was quite sure he did not want to see the inside of. Whatever it was sloshed unpleasantly when Pippin lurched after the women and grabbed a handful of her skirt to prevent her from leaving.

“The Steward has ordered me to fetch Aragorn! Show me where he is!” Pippin declared. He didn’t think it was a lie. Denethor was dead, so that made Boromir the Steward in his place, probably.

The woman gasped in surprise. “Lord Denethor lives?” she asked. “Wondrous news, we thought lord and son dead already.”

Pippin avoided the question about Denethor by standing up as straight as he could. “Lord Faramir needs medicine,” he said imperiously. “He needs Aragorn’s skill. Take me to Aragorn.”

With a quick hand gesture to follow and not another word, the woman took off walking at a brisk stride deeper into the crowded hall. Pippin had to run to keep up with her. After what seemed like a dozen maneuvers around clumps of people and cots, a figure clad all in black finally came into view.

“Strider!” Pippin cried with relief.

Aragon knelt at a young man’s bedside with a wet rag and bowl of water in his hands. He turned his face at once toward the sound of Pippin’s voice, a genuine smile gracing his lips as he did. Some of the panic that had been driving Pippin these last several hours faded away at the sight. If Aragorn was here, then surely things would get better now.

His relief faltered a bit when Pippin noticed that Aragorn was simply covered in blood- both red and black, and sweat, and grime that Pippin could not begin to identity. The Men gathered round him didn’t seem to mind Aragorn’s state, but then, most of them were splattered with blood as well, probably their own. Even Aragorn could not dispel the somber truth hanging in the air, that unimaginably many people had died today.

Faramir would join the dead soon if Pippin didn’t get a move on, so he marched past all those tall, bloodied Men to stand right at Aragorn’s side.

“Faramir’s dying,” he hissed, hoping he was quiet enough for none but Aragorn to hear. He didn’t especially want to deliver more bad news to the people in this room. “Boromir is with him, but he needs medicine, now.”

If Aragorn found this news distressing, he did not show it. He just nodded thoughtfully, and asked, “Can he walk?”

Pippin shook his head. Aragorn hummed an acknowledgment and rose to his feet. He handed the bowl and rag he’d been holding to another woman that Pippin hadn’t noticed before, murmuring something that sounded like instructions. He then spoke to the lady that had led Pippin, the one who seemed to be in charge.

“Ioreth,” he addressed her. “We have need of a stretcher.”

“It will be done,” she said, and turned on her heel to vanish back into the crowded hall.

Aragorn wiped his hands on his trousers to dry them. Pippin suspected he made them dirtier in the process. “Pippin,” Aragorn said. “Will you please lead me to Boromir and Faramir?”

“Yes, this way,” Pippin answered quickly. He was eager to be out of this terrifying place. He found it easier than before to navigate through the throng. He realized after a few moments of uninhibited movement that people were stepping aside to make way as soon as they saw Aragorn following him.

Had Aragorn already gotten around to being crowned while Pippin was busy? These people were certainly treating him like a king.

“Did you already become the King?” Pippin asked without thinking.

Aragorn chuckled dryly. “No, and I don’t think the lady healers would much care if I had. They care only that I know how to draw out the poison that covers many orcish blades, and that I’ve shared what I know.”

“Oh,” said Pippin, feeling queasy.

Finally, the door came into sight, and with a quick burst of speed, Pippin flung himself back into fresh air. Mostly fresh, anyway, permitting for some lingering smoke. The smell of blood and death that lingered in his nostrils seemed even more vile when contrasted against another, cleaner scent, and it made him gag. Aragorn placed a sympathetic hand between his shoulders.

“The battle to save the wounded is the hardest and the bloodiest,” he said gently. “There’s no shame in being shocked by it.”

Pippin couldn’t quite speak yet, so he bobbed his head in a jerky, shaking nod. He allowed himself two deep breaths before turning his attention back to the task at hand. Right. Faramir. Shot full of arrows and nearly burned to death, currently stashed in a mausoleum, actively perishing of fever. He had to bring Aragorn there, and then maybe he could sit down for a moment. He set off again at a jog.

Aragorn, being unfairly long-legged, could follow him with a brisk walk. Pippin was growing weary of these big people, he really was.

Back over the same cold marble stone he went, retracing his steps to the tombs. Two men carrying a stretcher had started following them at some point- Pippin hadn’t noticed exactly where they came from, but the stretcher they carried was already stained with red, so he suspected that they had been going back and forth from the House of Healing for a while already. Aragorn let there be silence between them for several yards, but began asking questions as soon as they crossed under a crumbling archway.

“What happened to Faramir to leave him needing medicine?”

“He was shot at least twice, I’m not sure when. Sometime yesterday.”

"Where has he been?”

“Well, he got shot when he was fighting in Osgiliath, and then the horse dragged him back, and that probably made it worse, actually, but then Denethor put him away someplace for a day or so and then brought him into the tombs and tried to burn him alive.”

Aragorn froze for a moment. “What?”

“Denethor lost his mind just before the battle started, he tried to burn Faramir alive on a pyre. And himself too, I think. He thought the world was ending.”

“Where is Denethor now?”

“He jumped off the wall.”

Aragorn took up walking again, now at a faster stride. “Boromir is with his brother now?”

"Yes,” Pippin confirmed, doing his best to keep up with Aragorn’s pace.

“Does he know what happened?”

That was a good question, actually. Had Pippin explained the situation at all? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember most of today, to be honest- it was all a blur of screams and fire.

He remembered the blinding panic he’d felt when heavy footsteps had entered the tombs. He remembered clutching his sword with sweaty hands and bracing himself to get torn to shreds by uruk-hai, and then abandoning his sword to hurl himself at Boromir once he’d heard the man’s voice. What had Boromir said, though? Anything? Had Pippin said anything?

He remembered Boromir dropping heavily onto his knees. The look on his face had been awful. He looked sad and scared and sick all at once. Pippin had never been sure what the word anguish meant, but he was sure now.

“I don’t think so,” Pippin finally answered.

Aragorn muttered something to himself, a string of elvish words that Pippin had never heard before. It sounded like what Legolas said when he missed a shot, though, so Pippin could wager a guess at what it meant.

At last, they reached the door to the House of Stewards. Pippin darted through, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Aragorn was still following. Through the foyer, around the smoldering remains of the pyre, down the corridor on the right, and there they were. The lords of Gondor. Not quite as Pipping had left them.

Boromir had extracted Faramir from the alcove where Pippin had dragged him to lay his brother out in the open. The fine silk tunic Faramir had worn lay in oil-soaked shreds scattered about the floor, and the mail shirt he’d had on underneath was similarly cast aside, half-obscuring a puddle of vomit near the entry to the alcove. Pippin was sympathetic- being in this place made him want to retch, too.

Faramir lay on his side in his undershirt. The fabric had been white once, Pippin knew, but blood, oil and ash had colored it through. Boromir knelt at his back, holding him steady by the upper arm with one hand and gently tearing the cloth of the ruined shirt with the other. The cloth didn’t move the way it should when Boromir tugged it. It stuck stubbornly to Faramir’s scorched upper back and shoulder, like it had been glued there.

Pippin gasped in horror as the realization hit him. Boromir couldn’t get Faramir’s shirt off because it was stuck to his burnt skin, fused in place by the heat of the fire. Had his skin melted? Could skin melt? The thought alone sickened him.

Boromir must have heard Pippin gasp, because his head snapped up to fix the hobbit with a wild stare.

Pippin didn’t usually think of Boromir as frightening. Fearsome, of course, but not to his friends. Certainly never to Pippin.

He looked frightening now. His eyes were wide, and his pupils were tiny pinpoints. His lips were pulled back into an animalistic expression, somewhere between a grimace and a snarl, showing just a hint of teeth. His shoulders curled forward, hunching slightly over Faramir’s still form, and through his thin, damp shirt Pippin could see he was shaking with pent up energy.

When Pippin was younger, one of Farmer Maggot’s dogs had gone missing. They’d found the creature hiding under a shed, nursing a bleeding paw, growling and snapping at any hobbit that tried to approach. Boromir did not make a sound, but Pippin swore he could hear the same wounded dog’s growling all the same.

Pippin felt rather than heard Aragorn approaching from behind him, and it was a great relief when Boromir’s gaze flicked up off his face to fixate on Aragorn instead. With what seemed to be a tremendous effort, Boromir opened his mouth to speak.

“Where is Denethor?” he rasped, voice shaking.

Aragorn took a cautious step forward, moving in front of Pippin. He held his hands up, fingers splayed open, the way he did when trying to settle a spooked horse. “Boromir, my brother-” he began, voice soft and steady.

Boromir interrupted before he could take another step. “Tell me where my father is, Aragorn,” he croaked. “Tell me so I can find him and gut him.”

“He’s dead,” Pippin blurted. “He set himself on fire and then he went off the edge of the wall and died.”

Aragorn stiffened. Boromir’s jaw went slack. He heard gasps from the men carrying the stretcher behind him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have spoken. Gandalf was always telling him something to that effect.

Boromir let out long, low groan and slumped in on himself, bowing his head so low his forehead grazed Faramir’s hair. He released the firm grip he’d been maintaining on his brother’s upper arm to grab fistfuls of his own hair instead.

Aragorn moved swiftly to kneel beside Boromir. He wrapped one arm around Boromir’s shoulders and pulled him into a lopsided embrace. Boromir went without protest, deflated and boneless against his king. Aragorn spoke to him, too softly for Pippin to hear, and coaxed him to shuffle backwards just a pace or two to create space at Faramir’s side. The two half-forgotten men with the stretcher between them seized their opportunity and swept in to gather Faramir up. Boromir twitched forward when they lifted his brother, but Aragorn held him back with a hand on his chest. With quick, synchronized steps, Faramir was taken out of the tombs.

Louder now, so Pippin could hear again, Aragorn spoke with real regret in his voice. “I must follow them. I promise I will give all the skill I have to make Lord Faramir well.”

“I’m coming,” Boromir stated.

Aragorn fixed him with a hard stare. “It will be ugly,” he warned. “I’ll have to cut the shirt off his back, and I expect much of his skin to come with it. If he wakes it will be to scream.”

“I know,” said Boromir.

“I would rather not find your blade shoved through my heart while I work.”

Boromir flushed. “I would not.”

Aragorn raised one eyebrow. “All the same, if you wish to follow, leave your sword at the door for my peace of mind.”

Boromir opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it and simply bowed his head in assent. Aragorn hauled himself to his feet and offered Boromir a hand up, which Boromir accepted without hesitation.

“Can I help?” Pippin asked, surprising himself.

Aragorn eyed him up and down. One corner of his lips twitched upward. “Yes, Pippin, I think you can help us all very much by staying at Boromir’s side and keeping him calm. If you have any more news to deliver, however, perhaps you could share it beforewe enter the House of Healing?”

Pippin recognized the admonishment for what it was and ducked his head, chastened. On the other hand, now that he mentioned it-

“Gandalf’s staff is broken,” he announced.

Aragorn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I see. Thank you, Pippin. Anything else?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Very well. If you think of something, take Boromir out into the hall and tell him.” Aragorn turned to Boromir and spoke sternly. “Boromir, if Pippin takes you out into the hall, I forbid you to pick up your sword until we have had a chance to speak.”

Boromir huffed out something very close to a laugh. “Wise council, my king.”

#@emilybeemartin #lotr fic #Boromir Lives AU

653 notes · View notes

thyras · 27 days ago

Text

→ the bearer of fruits

PAIRING → mairon | halbrand | annatar (sauron) x f!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 8.9k words

WARNINGS → 18+ mdni - dark!reader, mentions of abuse (sauron kind of manhandles reader and threatens her, while she throws stuff at him), mentions of trauma, some fluff (if that can even be associated with him), manipulation, dark deeds, unprotected p in v, implied smut, handjob, pregnancy

SUMMARY → after your husband’s departure of Eregion, you are left hollowed and sorrowed. you find solace in your work and planting your seeds until an unexpected visitor shows up at the gates of Eregion.

AUTHORS NOTE → wow this took ages to finish, sorry about that. i've been so busy with school and mom life that i just was so drained of inspiration for this part. i wanted to touch more on reader and his background as it really defines how their relationship works. they are very hot and cold with each other, she may be really dark at times, even darker than him at times, but she is good at hiding it and even can suppress it. idk i hope you guys enjoy as well be reviving up in the next few parts. @sansaorgana you asked me to tag you, so here you are my friend ❤️

FIC MASTERLIST → NEXT PART

The fire crackled against its fuel as you flipped through a volume from the First Age. You had dove into anything that could take your mind off the sorrow you felt with his departure again. This time, you thought of starting to sow some seeds for your husband’s plan. For weeks, you had been coming after all the smiths had gone home, and you would be left in silence, hoping that one person would see you.

Which had not happened once.

Your hand fanned across the page. The silver band on your finger caught the light and shined its beautiful blue hue in the moonlight. A smile crept up on your face as you twisted it around your finger. The bluish inscription appeared in Sarati lettering, the ancient written form of your kin.

You rarely spoke Quenya anymore, but the inscription on the ring was something you always remembered.

Fairest of maidens, in the moonlight, you shall find me, for we are never truly parted.

You had been there in that elven forge of old when he crafted the ring. When you bound yourselves in mind, body, and soul. The Beauty of the Woodland was no more, for she had become his Wicked Beauty.

You snorted softly at the name. The Beauty of the Woodland. That’s all you had been to your kin, a goddess crafted by the Valar and sent to honor your family with your fair beauty. Your life before your husband had been nothing but pure subjection to fill that role and heal your kind.

For you were perceived to be an emissary of Valar in fair form.

But that was hardly true; you were just an elf gifted with refined beauty, which a woman of no consequence birthed. No fair powers filled you other than the gift to heal.

As you had done with him in those days.

The morning was bright, reflecting on the golden leaves down onto your glittering hair. You pushed some behind your ear as you bent down to gather some fungi to take back with you. You had ventured alone early in the morning, not a wise thing, but with years on you and a keen sense for danger, you always carried a blade concealed in your sleeve.

You started humming a sweet song while moving through the woods, peeling off fungi and picking medicinal weeds you could not grow. Your humming grew into a lovely, silvery song.

You hesitated a moment, though, when you reached for a mushroom nestled in a small patch by a tree. A certain iciness came over the forest, the gloominess of a rain cloud crawling over the once bright forest. You stood up and swallowed hard as the eeriness fell even more over the forest.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose suddenly as if you turned and looked behind you. Nothing. Your pulse raced. Your hand reached under the sleeve of your robe for the blade. Your eyes closed as you took a few shallowed breaths before a shadowy breath crossed your ears. Its disembodied voice caused you to shiver. You took a few breaths before opening your eyes and throwing the blade at a tree behind you.

You turned and saw nothing but the shining blade in the tree. As the sun was shining once again and the iciness over the forest lifted, you walked over and pulled your blade out before saying some Quenya words to the tree in sorrow for the damage.

You turned and went back to pick the mushrooms quickly. The darkness was gone, but you still felt its lingering touch on the shell of your ear—the caress almost as seductive as the taste of the finest wine or fruit. You licked your lips as a dark smile rose on your lips.

The darkness had touched you as a little girl; watching your father turn mad at your mother’s lovers, killing her in front of you, had changed you before you even were a teen. In later years, you plotted to kill the man for killing your mother.

Each day, you waited.

And watched.

Until you struck one night, holding a pillow over his face as you plunged his dagger into his heart. The pillow muffled his screams. You leaned in and spoke;

“For the Valar have forsaken you, Commander, and I am their justice.” You paused and took the pillow off so he could look into his daughter’s dark eyes. “See my face, and know it is I who have ended you.” The shocked look crossed his eyes before the light of the Valar left him.

You had been so dramatic in the following days, playing the part of a grief-stricken daughter. Only to hold back the triumph and satisfaction of ridding this world of the man who abused you and your mother enough to stray.

You returned to the road that would take you to your village. It would not take long to get back into the confines of those walls.

Your cage.

Your shackle.

It only brought more blackness to your heart lingering there. But you could hardly protect yourself on a long journey to find another set of kin. Your feet stopped as you felt a whisper of a breeze and turned to see a man walking, well limping, just ahead of you, hand covering his leg as the fabric of his pants was tainted with blood. His reddish hair glistened in the golden sun, much like a flame would as it would against its fuel. The strands were long and braided on the sides.

He stumbled, and you raced to grab his frame before he hit the ground. The weight of him caused you to collapse onto the dirt road. You looked down to see he was an elf, from what kin you did not know. His face was of the fairest beauty, someone to rival even your own. He smiled weakly.

“By the Valar,” he breathed hoarsely. “Have I reached Valinor?” You shook your head and told him your name and that you were a healer. He repeats your name back as if it was the sweetest of nectars. His hand reached up to touch your cheek, eyes fluttering as he swallowed hard.

You looked down at his leg and saw the deep puncture of something in his upper thigh. He had fashioned a tourniquet above the wound to stop the blooding, no doubt. His eyes looked up into yours, pleading almost.

"Boar," he breathed hoarsely again. You nod and smooth your hand across his clammy cheek in a comforting gesture.

"I'll get you well again; it's the least I can do." The man nodded, and you smiled before trying to help him get up. He tried greatly not to put all his weight on you as you walked, but it would only cause him even more great pain. So when you reached the outskirts of your village, you signaled for a couple of men to help you get him to your home.

Once the stranger was laid on the bed, you thanked the other men and began mending his wound. Throughout that time, you could not help but feel the warmth of his eyes on you, watching as you cleaned and worked tirelessly in your craft.

"You are so beautiful," he said through labored breaths, "like a star from the heavens." Your face warmed, and you finished bandaging his leg carefully. He reached up his shaky hand to push some of your hair behind your ear. The touch sent shivers down your spine and caused you to look over at him. You knew he was probably delirious from the blood loss and infection. He would not remember a thing when he woke up, but you prayed he would.

"Get some rest; I'll be here when you wake." You smiled, took his hand, and gave it a light kiss of reassurance. A smile touched his battered lips before his eyes closed. You laid his arm across his chest and rose out of your chair to start the clean-up.

Hours later, when he awoke again, you sat a bowl of stew next to him on the small table and a glass of wine. He sat up, took the bowl, and began eating eagerly as you moved back to the small kitchen.

"Thank you," he said, inclining his head to you.

"You're welcome," you paused. "You should be well enough to travel by morrow's eve; your kin must be worried about you." Something in his eyes changed as he lowered the bowl to his lap. His eyes turned dark like yours had when you murdered your father. A touch of your darkness rose as his did.

"I have no kin," he said softly, his eyes still staring at the bowl in his hands. You nodded before turning back to the worktop, where you continued to mash your herbs.

Silence grew over you both until he spoke again moments later. "They perished in the war." You nod. Many of your kin had as well, but again, it was not even sorrowful to you. These people had stood by and let their commander abuse you and your mother.

"I'm sorry," you said with fake sorrowfulness. “To lose one's kin is a tragedy that most of us do not heal from.

"You speak as if you know of this," he said, reaching to grab the glass. You nodded in an ever-convincing gesture toward his question. If it was not for the darkness of the hour, you swore you saw a nebulous smile touch his lips.

"My father died in the war; his company was ambushed, and before the rest of the force could reach them, they all but perished." You lied while staring at him in those dark eyes as he watched you. Your secret still hidden.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, inclining his head toward you. But before he could continue, you spoke again.

"Don't be; he was an arrogant, abusive man." You flashed him a dark smile. He could not help but chuckle. "I was more sorrowful for the men under his leadership, and I thanked the Valar for freeing me of his abuse." You looked down at your stone, knowing you had already told him too much of your despise of this place and its memories. But it felt good to touch the darkness again, that part of you that you forced into submission to keep your facade of the virtuous, sweet, elven healer.

You heard him stand up and move over to you. His fingers cupped your chin and brought your face to meet his gaze in the dim light of the candles. His eyes were dark as night and full of desire, and you gave him an equally dark smile.

His grip tightened on your chin, and you let a sharp breath fall out as you closed your eyes. His hot breath crossed your face and sent shivers down your spine. Before his lips could meet yours, you pushed on his chest. Your hand was placed against his fluttering heart as his gaze watched you, waiting for you to make the next move.

"I hardly know you,” You said, giving him a playful look. “And it would look less than virtuous for you to be seen touching me." You continued, fingers gripped onto his shirt as you raised your brow to taunt him more. The darkness in his eyes seemed to come alight with an animalistic presence. A growl rumbled through his chest as you ran your fingers down his chest. “Now, you would not want to take a fair maiden’s virtue?” you said with a fake pout. The mischief in your gaze made a nebulous smile touch his face again. It sent your pulse racing as every inch of you heated up.

“Temptress,” he breathed. Releasing your chin and running his warm fingers down your neck. “For you have deceived an even greater deceiver.” In an instant, you had your fingers wrapped around his throat and backed up against the wall. A blade hovered above your fingers, cool Valinor silver pressed against his jaw. You felt the tension in his neck as he swallowed and lifted his chin to give you better access to the skin, his eyes closing as you leaned in slowly.

“You think you have deceived me?” You said, watching his eyes flicker open when a laugh of disbelief left your lips. “I knew you were watching me. The second I walked into those woods. I played the fair innocent maid, oh so sweet.” You tightened your grip as you leaned in to run your tongue against the skin of his jaw. His muscles tensed under your grasp again, your teeth grazing his chin. “I bet the singing got you real hard.” You tempted, his eyes closing again as his nostrils flared. “Hard enough to do my bidding and be rewarded with a taste?” Your lips ghosted over his. His hands kept perfectly still next to him, fists clenching as he struggled to stay calm against your grasp.

“Little one, you have no idea who you are bargaining with,” he growled.

“I have an idea,” You run the blade just underneath his jawline. A trickle of black blood fell to no surprise to you. You leaned in and lapped the sweet nectar, coating your lips as you took in some of his essence. It tasted godly, giving you a taste of his malice and power. You craved more and wished to allow this being to cover you in it so you could know what true power felt like, not the innocent power of one's flesh but the over someone's mind and soul—morphing them into what you wanted. “So what shall I call you, my lord? Or do you want me to scream out your true name as you have your way with this fair maiden?”

He reached up and pushed more of your hair out of your face. The touch was so gentle for a man who had murdered so many of your kin. You should have been scared of him, terrified even. But you knew you were just as black-hearted as he was, which probably drew him to you.

You were an expert manipulator and temptress.

A true dark widow leading any unsuspecting man to her web of deception. This time, though, you had caught the Great Deceiver in your web; he was yours now. Your two dark souls were finally connected, yearning for release and pleasure.

"Mairon,"

The clinging of a glass brought you out of your musings before looking over at the source of the sound. Celebrimbor strode up the staircase with a glass of wine for the both of you and a pile of parchment between his left arm. "May I join you?" he asked as a smile touched his lips.

You nodded and motioned to the chair. Finally, your plan bore fruit. He set a glass down in front of you. You reached and brought it to your lips, drinking the liquid as he moved to lay his papers out on the table across from you. Designs, no doubt, for more rings. You turned back to your reading, delicate fingers turning the large page as you read the old words.

"I see you have taken an interest in First Age magics." You look up at him as he took a drink. "It is a delightful read, even for someone who was there."

"I never experienced those magics, only the ones to destroy." You said truthfully, but you hid your dark smile at the mention of the shadowy being who had taught you many of those dark things.

“I forget myself. You lost all your kin to him.” You gave him a sorrowful look before turning back to reading. Celebrimbor raised a brow at you as your left hand moved across the page. His gaze fell when the moonlight from the window caught your ring, causing the inscription to reappear. He moved to pick up your hand as a missing piece of his puzzle had probably been solved, but before you registered what he was doing, he had the ring of your finger in haste.

Your body weakened with age, and signs started to appear on your once beautiful, serene face, showing how your choice to stay in Middle-Earth had affected you. The air in your lungs grew cold, and your mind became lonely as you could no longer feel his power and dark thread against you—the life force to your beauty and enhanced healing abilities.

Celebrimbor watched you shift and change, then glanced down at the ring. Even more surprise crossed his face as he stood and walked quickly to the window, hoping to see how it worked. But the inscription all but faded as it was not connected to your essence anymore. Your husband's blood had given you vibrant beauty for the rest of your days, but only if his gift was placed upon your finger.

The bond you shared and promised to keep had been laid into that ring, blood mixed with blood. His vow was recited and dropped into the molten Valinor silver ore as you recited yours. He forged it under the starry, moonlit night in love and promise for more. Thus, it created the final piece of your bond, gave you access to some of his abilities, and gave the beautiful silver its blue hue.

The Valar were displeased with his creation and choice to massacre your people, citing that if he genuinely were remorseful for his deeds, he would return to Valinor to pay for his crimes. At the same time, you paid for yours in loneliness and longing for the Undying Lands that you would never meet.

You both turned your backs and knew no road to redemption did not leave you separated from one another. So you both agreed to cleanse and heal this world in your image so that you may sit upon your thrones and finally have peace from the looming threat of the Valar’s wrath.

You were sure he had just felt the parting, and soon, his shadowy form would be upon you—or worse.

"How–ho–" he stuttered out as he tried to get the blue hue to show again. Your frail body stood and snatched the thin silver ring from his hand before slipping it back on, and you shifted back into your youthful, beautiful form again.

The air in your lungs returned, and you felt a tear fall from your eye. The comfort of his mind and soul returning, the pain of silence and separation becoming too much. You gave the little thread a soft tug to tell him it was alright and just part of your plan. "Teach me," His eyes were blown wide almost as he moved over to the table quickly almost knocking the wine glasses off. "Tell me everything or show me how you did it,"

"I did not do anything, Lord Celebrimbor," You said, covering your hand so he would not have another chance to snatch the ring off your hand. "It was a gift from my late husband to torture me," you said with slight anger; though this was about to be a clever story, your beloved was probably about to be very disappointed in you slandering his name.

Celebrimbor looked at you, confused. "His dying wish was to see me live an immortal life tied to this." You hold up the ring to him. "For being unfaithful to him. It is my shackle, my lord, and I doubt you wish to craft something as such." You look back down at your book, hiding the pain in your face as you tell such lies about your husband, but this was needed to keep Celebrimbor going. Keep him thinking about the other rings, sowing your husband’s dark web in even his absence.

"But you wear it proudly? And your reaction earlier tells me he means more to you." You cursed at your earlier slip in disguise, but no one had ever tried to take it off your finger. So it caught you off guard, and your mask had faded. You had not expected him to do that.

"I wear it because my immortality depends on it; my gift to heal depends on it. I wear it so I can live." You finally look up at him, and your eyes gaze into his. "Wouldn't you do the same, my lord?"

"But you have used your ring for good," You held back the snort at his comment. "Healed Eregion for centuries and been an utmost loyal friend to my family." All for your husband's benefit, he had an in and a watchful eye here. He had what he wanted, and you had a warm place to sleep while you waited for him.

"You flatter me, my lord," Your eyes turned back to the page as he touched your shoulder.

"I am sorry, my friend; I did not mean for my impoliteness. Forgive me." You placed a hand over his and smiled softly up at him, your charming, deceitful self on full display.

"It is quite alright." He released you before going back to his chair. He picked up a quill and began scratching out notes. You returned to your reading until a cool breeze entered the room from the window, causing your senses to heighten as you felt the shadows come to life. A small smile touched your lips, knowing he was about to play one of his little shadowy games. His ghostly hand wrapped around your throat, fingers trailing against your soft skin.

"Don't worry, there is an illusion over you," his voice said against your ear. "You will appear to be reading."

"And what do I owe the pleasure, husband?" You felt the pain on his form at how you did not hide your irritation, or it was coming from him for another reason. He was not allowing you to see where he was for whatever reason.

“Can a husband not check in on his wife?” You swatted his shadowy hand from touching you. The Black Speech curse that floated across sent a nebulous smile, touching your lips, knowing he was not in the mood to play games. But neither were you.

His hand moved back to your throat, hand tighter as his lips went to your ear. “You would do right to remember who—“

“I tire of these excuses, husband.” You closed your eyes, trying to keep yourself in complete control. “I also tire of these lies, " he growled.

“You are such a burdensome woman,” he said as his fingers grabbed your hair, yanking it back. You could see the dark embers of his eyes encased by his shadowy form. “Always speaking of things she knows nothing of.”

“But that’s why you love me,” You reach up to touch his shadowy face. “Without me, your immortality would have been oh so tiresome.” you teased. Your finger ran across where his cheekbone would have been. “But you’re right; I am only some innocent maiden who knows nothing of the plan she helped mold.” Another growl went through his shadowy lips, fingers tugging even more on your hair, pulling a whimper from your lips.

“We both know you are far from innocent, little one.” You had to laugh at that. “For you deceived the Great Deceiver at his own game,” you hum as his hand ran down your chest, ghosting over your breasts and down to your ripened core. You grabbed his wrist and held it up.

“It would do you good to remember that,” you growled. “It would also mind you well to tell me where you are.”

"Sowing seeds,” you rolled your eyes at his even more cryptic answer. "Just as you are, my little temptress," His shadowy lips wrapped around your ear. "Though I warn you if he touches you or your ring again, I will take pleasure in killing him right now.” You whimpered at the thought and bit down on your bottom lip as his hand met your skirt again.

“You spoil me, husband,” his dark chuckle filled your ear. “Do not forget that I can only stall for so long," you bit back at him. “He will keep hammering me about the ring,” he hummed in answer to your statement before the brushes of his tongue ran across the shell of your ear. Your walls and stomach fluttered in anticipation of your reunion once again. He was playing dirty, but whenever did he not?

"I'm aware," he whispered before nipping at your ear. A whimper left your lips in response. Through this whole interaction, you had not as much as glanced at Celebrimbor through the illusion until now.

He was working away, taking a sip of his wine occasionally. Utterly undisturbed by you and your husband’s interaction. “Only if he saw you right now,” your husband breathed against your shoulder. “In all your dark glory, wanton with desire for the very man they fear. Oh, the scandal it should cause.” He kissed your shoulder lightly before moving up your neck and back to your ear. “That innocent elven maiden disguise you have carefully constructed, completely broken against my cock.”

His lips nipped at the sensitive tip while his hand ran back to your stomach, cupping it softly.

"I will it," he breathed.

And like a gust of wind, he was gone. Illusion falling.

The lingering sadness mixed with his words caused another set of tears to fall onto your face.

He willed it.

Sunrises turned into sunsets, and each day felt like an eternity. Since his appearance that night, you had grown longingly for him even more, knowing he was still alive and well, to some extent.

But you had waited centuries with even less uncertainty. It was always a game of patience.

Though you had grown tired of it now.

You tried your best to distract yourself with the mundane tasks of being a healer, such as setting broken bones and healing minor cuts. Sure, your assistants could do such things, but it helped busy your mind and distract you from the aching in your heart as you longed for his touch and his breath on your ear.

It drove you mad when he tortured you in the night, shadows bringing you almost to the brink, only to leave you hanging like he wanted to build up the tension of your separation. You had many a thought to take your ring off so you could stop the torture, but you knew that was not the brightest idea. He would only make it worse for you after he arrived.

You bared it, though.

As you awoke this morning, something in the air told you today would be different. The air was crisper and tasted like the electricity of a storm rolling in. A smile touched your lips as you felt the lingering touch of his caress on your lips. You brought your thumb to meet your bottom lip as he had the night before, tracing across it in sweet memory. Your heart filled with what little warmth you had left in it, only reserved for the dark shadow that filled your dreams and drove you mad with his ghostly touches.

You threw the blankets off your body and got out of bed, feet walking across the stone floor toward your balcony doors, opening them to see the bright morning light into your chambers. Back when you had a semblance of pureness in your heart, you would have probably enjoyed this sight, the singing of the birds flying across the river to the sounds of the city waking up.

But that had long left you.

You found solace in the dark, stormy days and long, cold winter nights. Something about them made you feel like he was there with you after settling into Eregion. The only warmth you sought was his embrace and the dark aura that always seemed to follow him, encasing you and bringing out the life in you. Never light, just life.

He completed you in so many ways, just as you completed him.

Your arms leaned against the railing as you took in a familiar scent, one you had not smelled in many centuries—blue daises. They used to grow around that first city you and your beloved made your home in. The name had long since been forgotten through the ages. But you could always remember that smell.

When you both tried to seek peace and redemption for your dark souls, you settled down into a slower way of life. One where you tried to suppress the darkness and power-hungry souls that lived in you both, hoping it would be enough, wishing that your deeds to help the people would wash your slates clean. When there was still a tiny part of you both that was still pure of heart.

As always, you had taken on a life as a healer, and your husband did what he did best.

Created.

He created beautiful things for you at that time—things you still had tucked away in the soft confines of your jewelry box, even if they did burn when they touched your cold, dark being now. But nothing surpassed the ring you wore on your finger even though it was both your undoing.

His fingers pushed your loose strands behind your ear as you sat on one of the many flower-covered hills surrounding the city that you both had made home. Your cheeks warmed against his gaze. It was not uncommon for you both to find solace away from the city limits, as you both kept to yourselves in hopes that your dark souls would find the space to heal.

“Tell me about your day,” you asked; a smile touched his lips as he looked down at your hand, reaching to take his. “I know he has you busy, as you are so gifted.” Your husband nodded and he began to tell you about his day. You hung on his every word and gesture, getting glimpses of what he would have probably been like before his corruption. The brightness in his eyes, playful and gentle touches that he would give you at times.

You had noticed that darkness falling away in his eyes the more he did good.

The more he healed that dark part of him.

“I do have something for you,” he said, bringing you out of your musings. You raised your brow in suspicion. He moved to cup your chin, pulling your face to meet his briefly as his pillowy lips moved against yours. A giggle escaped your lips as he broke away and laid his forehead on yours. “I promised you that you would never want for anything; if you asked, it would be yours no matter the cost.” Your fingers moved to cup his face and nod.

“I remember,” He released you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a beautiful piece of jewelry. Blue stones hung in a setting that looked reminiscent of the blue daisies that surrounded you and grew in front of your home, that you had tended so carefully to over the years. The stones shined in the sun's light and pulled you in more. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Crafted for my beautiful wife,” you turned and lifted your hair so he could lay the necklace on you and clasp it closed. “Forged with silver from Valinor and blue gems of the mountain. All made for the beautiful woman meant to wear it.” He leaned in and kissed your neck as your fingers touched the stones, his fingers skating across your stomach and caressing the white silken fabric you wore.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed as his lips lapped at the skin of your neck and down to your shoulder. “Thank you,” He hummed against your soft skin and continued to nip and suck on the skin he exposed when his fingers pushed down the silken fabric that rested on your shoulders, exposing your skin to the warmth of the sun. “I want to remind you that children come up here, my love.” He did not reply with words but with a grip on your breast before pulling you into him. His other hand traveled down to your core, only to make a symphony leave your lips as he fucked you into a withering mess as he always did.

You both lay bare against the warmth of the swaying grasses and flowers, intertwined still as your post-coitus bliss still hung against you both. He slid one of the blue daisies behind your ear as you kissed him passionately, fingers moving up to cup his face as he wrapped his arms around you.

Hearts and souls as one, once again. Full and warm.

“I have been thinking,” he started as he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. The sun had become your greatest friend in your time here, you glowed again and seemed to fill with even more peace than he had ever seen in you.

“That is never a good thing with you,” he glowered down at you as you made the jab. “But go on,”

“I want to forge you a ring,” he breathed. “One that will bind us immortally.” You swallowed hard and moved to place your hand on his cheek, his head leaning into it as his lips kissed your wrist softly.

“We have been here before, love,” you started as he sighed. “Our hearts are still so black that even the slightest taste of power could set us off.” He continued to lay his head in your hand, only now his eyes were looking at yours.

“I know, and we have worked so hard in trying, but–” You cut him off with a passionate kiss.

“No more talk of this,” you breathed against his lips. “We promised to leave it all behind. We have built our own little bits of peace here. They have not noticed or wish to not meddle in our progress.” They, being the Valar, which you both wished to please in this time, hoping they would renounce both your crimes and allow you to live in a world of bliss and longevity together.

Though you felt that lingering wish for power and control deep inside him still. The lingering tendrils of Morgoth’s weavings were still embedded in him, fighting with the pureness that was trying to show itself again. “I know you wish to lavish me something so great, but it would be a creation built in the dark. The magic used would not be of light as we wish but of darkness.”

“Divine,” he breathed, leaning into you again. “Let’s try,”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as that once eerie feeling resurfaced. Telling you the peace here would be limited once again.

Limited it was.

The darkness crept back in.

Slowly at first, only with signs that were noticed by you. His mind elsewhere while yours tried to keep on moving forward. Late nights in the sitting room doing whatever had been consuming his mind, to the irritation he had about his work.

On one occasion, you walked down to see him muttering to himself and scratching away at something. You moved over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder causing him to jump as he had been so consumed by his task. Your eyes swept the page to see designs for a ring. Your ring.

“I thought we were behind this?” You said, trying to take the parchment from him, causing him to rip it from your hands, tearing the parchment in half. His eyes darkened as a growl rumbled in his chest.

“And I thought you trusted me?” You looked at him, bewildered by the boiling temper in his eyes. For the last few centuries, nothing but a lovelorn look had been in his eyes.

“I do, but love, this ring does not prove my love and loyalty to you.” you breathed, holding up your half of the parchment. “It will only drive you down a path I cannot follow.”

“Cannot follow?” He yelled. You flinched and looked down at your feet, hoping not to upset him more. He moved over to you and wrapped his fingers around your throat. “You follow me; remember, I took you from that place and gave you the revenge that you sought. All because I love you.” Tears kissed your cheeks as he tightened his grip, dark eyes blazing.

“I love you too, but they will take you from me if we do this.” You cried. “A separation greater than any we have experienced before. Do you want that for me?” He sighed, loosening his grip on you, and ran his finger across your cheek.

“Then let me just make you this one ring so even if we are ever parted, you will still feel like I am there with you.”

That one choice, one singular choice, had changed your relationship forever. You agreed and he forged the bonding ring and the darkness now awoke in you again after centuries of it being only a quiet hum.

He grew obsessed and consumed by the desire to create more rings to bring order to this world. You watched as he drove himself mad with this all-but-consuming task.

Power over the flesh.

He kept saying. In those times he did not seek your comfort, grew cold and distant towards you. Each time you would walk to that hill and the flowers would wilt and die against your touch until there was none left. A personification of what was to come.

You stopped going until the darkness in your heart returned. Things began crumbling in your lives; he lost his temper more, filled people’s minds with his sickness, and fell so much further into his obsession.

The day everything changed, you watched as he stood in the doorway and told you he was going back to Fordowaith and taking up his place in Morgoth’s wake so he could finish his work. He asked you to come with him, take your place by his side, and be his queen, but you told him no.

You told him that there was no path you would not follow him. Told him that you would continue the plan, but you would do it your way. A way that kept you together.

You left him standing there.

And went on your way.

You stood back up and turned back towards your chambers, the sun becoming too much for you as your mind dove even deeper into the maddening memories. It was too much at times, and you tried not to let it affect you, but it did.

It broke you to part yourself from him, but you knew somewhere in your heart he would find you again. And he had.

As you got ready for the day, your hands skated across the fabric over your stomach. The skin had yet to stretch, but you knew they were nestled deeply in your womb.

The greatest creation he had ever made.

You had known for a bit as the dizzy spells overcame you and heightened smells that sometimes nauseated you. Life grew a little brighter in his absence, but not enough to quench the need to feel him there beside you, sharing in this joy.

After your musings had ended, you got right to work and attend to your duties. You made your rounds and finished just before lunch. You started back to your home when you felt the lingering pull of that dark thread crawling up your spine. You turn and see guards walking up the road with a man on a horse.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you saw him. The coppery strands glistened in the sun as he continued towards the gatehouse. You moved out of the way and watched as his green eyes met yours, a smile touching his lips as your face warmth. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you bowed your head in response before he passed, and you were only left with the lingering warmth of his shadowy thread wrapping around yours.

You rushed back home, knowing he would probably visit after speaking with Celebrimbor.

But nothing came of it.

And the night rolled in with not much as a word. The claps of thunder and flickers of lightning filled your darkened chambers. With the rain spilling moments later.

And you could not help but add tears to the sound of the pattering rain.

Heart aching at his rejection, yet again.

Slap.

Your hand connected with his face, sending shivers down your spine as his elven head turned in response. Hand shooting to his face as you seethed with anger. Your pulse raced as he looked back up at you, eyes burning with a fire you had never seen in him before. You stare at him with your seething gaze. He was so stunned by your reaction that he moved up to you with a pace unmatched by any mortal being. His fingers gripped in your hair, yanking your head back. Those elven eyes seared into yours as he snarled at you.

You did not flinch or pull away from his grasp. The pain was only temporary, and the satisfaction of seeing the red mark coming up on the pale face caused a smile to touch your lips before you spoke.

"You dare not hurt me, husband," His hand gripped harder, pulling at your roots. You struggled not to whimper at the action like you always did. Your desire to not give into his temptation and prolong this argument until he was buried deep inside you and taking you like the feral animal he could be at times. Though this time, you knew he was deprived and wanting, so this would only make his restraint last so long before he gave in to his desire to control you.

"Do you want to test me?" He growled. "Because I have killed people for less."

"And I've killed people for the fun of it, my lord," your eyes burning now as his grip loosened just a tiny bit. A chuckle left his lips, knowing you were fully capable of wreaking havoc on entire cities and his heart. "You leave without a word and only appear in my chambers again when you see fit. In a whole new disguise, may I add." You spat out at him. "What web are sowing now?"

He released you and moved past you into your chambers, speaking words that were inaudible to you. "I am protecting you," he finally said.

"Protecting me?" you say in disbelief as you move over to your desk where your books and papers are. "That's all I get?"

"The less you know, the more believable you can be." You gripped a book. The anger in your bones at his lack of faith in you had you seething for an even grander fight. You wanted to slap, punch, or kill him for even believing you could not be believable at your own game. You had spent centuries here building relationships and trust that it was laughable for him even to consider himself of more importance than you at this moment.

Your hand gripped the thick leather volume harder before your anger boiled over, and you tossed it at him, but before it could hit him, he pushed it out of the way with his abilities.

"The more believable I can be?" You roared. You grabbed more and continued to throw it at him, anger surging even more. Your pent-up heartache at his mistrust poured into each onslaught. His eyes watched you as he moved out of the way of your blows, books, quills, and jewelry box hitting the wall behind him. The pain in your eyes did not affect his emotionless face in the slightest. "Are you doubting my skills?"

"Are you doubting my judgment?" He roared back at you. "Because as I see it, you questioning me tells me they have gotten into your head." You moved quickly and pushed him over onto your bed, using all the darkness in you to overpower him. He sat up, looking at you with disbelief at your action. You had never dared to touch him in anger in all the centuries. Sure, you had been close before, but this was different. He was questioning your loyalty to him.

"How dare you question my loyalty," Tears touched your cheek. "How dare you threaten me and treat me like one of your little puppets when all I have ever been to you is faithful."

"That's not what you told Celebrimbor," he taunted, trying to sit up, but you moved to straddle his hips, holding him in place before wrapping your fingers around his neck.

"If you believe the words of a lie," You growled at him. "Then surely you've gone mad." You leaned down over him, the other hand pulling up the skirt of your nightgown over your hips while delicate fingers hungrily searched underneath his robes.

“This argument bor—” his train of thought stopped as your hand found what it was searching for. Your eyes watched as his closed against the grip of your hand. Fingers sliding up the length till your thumb traced against the tip, pulling a low hiss from his lips.

“This bores you?” You taunted, pumping lightly against the hardened flesh that filled your grip; his hips arched into your tugs as you rolled yours softly with your motions against him. You finally lean into his ear, motions growing. “If this bores you, then you have gone mad.” The tension lines in his neck tightened as you ran your teeth against them, nipping the pale skin as you went. You were in control for the moment, trying to get him to remember who he belonged to.

Your strokes grew in intensity as you could tell his peak was coming, his deprived state causing his body to fail him. “My sweet,” You breathed into his ear. “My oh so sweet Mairon, in all those centuries apart, you still believe you have control.”

His eyes opened, and he growled as he quickly had you on your back, his painfully hard cock at your entrance. His eyes burned into yours as he thrust into you quickly, pulling a moan from your lips as you closed your eyes. He leaned down to your ear. “Control is only an illusion, wife. I let you believe what you want, but you bow to me, no one else.” You whimpered against the sickly, sweet words. His thrusting grew in intensity as he took pleasure in the way you silenced the control over him, letting him take you as he saw fit.

You were a devious creature that was as slippery as a serpent. But he was only but a mirror of that. He never had to command your mind or inflict his magic on you. You surrendered so willingly, already kissed by the darkness ages before he crossed your path. Desire drove this relationship at times, a sickly sweet desire he had never fully understood until he felt those hips against his fingers, guiding you through the movements. It was maddening as the sounds of your climax repeated over and over throughout that tiny home in that long-forgotten elven city. The night you both had given your souls to each other.

After that, there was nothing he would do for you. He would murder whole cities and move the oceans just to please you. He only wanted to give you everything you desired—jewels, clothes, even a child.

The thrill of the chase, of the fight for dominance, never bored him. Even if he told you otherwise, these ‘arguments’ were sometimes needed to remind you who pulled the strings to your heart and who pulled his. The anger and heartache only fueled your desire to seek control and dominance over him, trying to hold him close to you as if he would sleep away into the abyss again.

You had left before.

And it broke him.

You sought the rational solution to lie in wait. Let them come to you. Build relationships, reputations, and trust in those you wish to subjugate.

Greed had chased you away. He paid dearly for that and spent centuries as a pile of omniscient form of liquid goo. As he regained his mind, he thought of you and how he wanted to find and surrender himself to you—telling you how you had been right. He would never doubt you again.

But you had taken your ring off.

You took the one connecting piece off, and you were nothing more than a distant memory in his mind. He had no idea where you were or if you had perished. He sometimes cursed himself for using the ring to bind your bond. But he never thought you would unbind yourself to him.

So when your mind disappeared again, it weakened his weakened state even more. He needed to feel you, and it angered him that you would even think that was a smart idea, but he had asked for trust in those first years.

And trust was a two-way street.

Your whimpered pleas for more brought him out of his thoughts. He looked down at you, all unmade under his fingertips. Hair tousled and lips swollen from biting down on them. You looked so beautiful and ethereal as he drove you mad with lust. Your fingers clawed against the linen of your bed, silver band shining in the moonlight as he tore you down with his thrust. Only to remake you once again.

It was not long before you both reached your respective highs. Climax found you both as calls of your names filled the stone walls, echoing into your hearts. His lips moved with yours as you gripped your fingers in his blonde hair. Delicate fingers took their time to ruin the perfectness of the strands. A memory finds you, causing a giggle to leave your lips. The last time he appeared like this was when he first saw you. Though his hair was much different back then, you felt slight sorrow at the choice of blonde hair.

“Red suits you more,” you breathed against his lips. “This,” your fingers moved over the shell of his ears, running up to the pointed tips, causing him to hum at the stimulating touch. “Is how I remember you each and every time I close my eyes,”

He chuckled. “I can change it,” you shake your head.

“No, my sweet Mairon,” you grabbed his face. “I am selfish and wish to be the only one to gaze upon that form.” He hummed and kissed your lips again briefly. Eyes locked as you both sunk into your post-coitus bliss. When the thought crosses your mind. A smile rose on your lips again. “Lord of Gifts,” you breathed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I have a gift for you.” You took his lip between yours and sucked down on it.

“What kind of gift would be greater than gazing upon my wife?” Your face warmed before you ran your fingers across his cheekbones. You felt the tickle of uncertainty touch your heart. It was still so early, and you could be wrong in your assessment. But deep in your heart, you knew that you both had created something in the light of that morning when he had willed it.

“The gift of creation,” A darkness flashed across his eyes as you spoke. That earlier worry filled his cold heart. “The fruits of our union.”

“Divine,” he breathed, but you cut him off.

“You are not happy?” He sighed and ran his fingers through your hair. He smoothed out the strands as he tried to find the words to tell you how he felt. In truth, he did not know how he felt. All kinds of emotions crossed his mind until he spoke again.

“It will grow on me; I’m concerned.” You nod, and a weak smile fills your lips before moving to sit up. Fingers running through your hair as you struggle with what to say to him. This was not the reaction you had expected at all. In your belief, you thought he had wanted this as much as you did. His change of heart was sincere, but that was not the case.

“You willed it,” You whimpered. He caught your chin, bringing your gaze to his. His gaze was as soft as he could ever get it to be. Tears brimming in your eyes as you both searched for the right words. He knew you were hurt, and you could sense the fear of the unknown on his dark thread.

“Like any father, I’m surprised and shocked that it happened so quickly,” he finally said. You stifled a loud laugh of amazement at his statement, knowing it was probably not the best right now. But to know he was surprised was shocking; you did not even know he could be that.

“I did not know the Dark Lord could be stunned for words.” A thin smile touched his lips, fingers pushing your hair behind your ear.

“There is a first for everything,”

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power #rings of power fic #halbrand #trop fic #annatar x reader #annatar #trop #rings of power #sauron

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saphronethaleph · 6 months ago

Text

Niman, the Way of the Rancor

Jango muttered a curse, closing his commlink.

You just couldn’t get the informants these days. Jango had bribed people in the Kaminoan facility to be informed if anyone showed up asking after him, but he hadn’t managed to get them to realize that the arrival of a starship not long after he’d returned from Coruscant might be important.

And now he’d only found out that a Jedi was present when they’d actually asked to see the template for the clones.

“Boba,” he said. “We might have an unexpected guest. And we might need to leave – soon.”

“Got it, dad,” his son replied. “Now?”

“No, the Jedi’s coming this way,” Jango replied. “I’ll try and trick them, then we leave as soon as they’re not here. Is all my armour hidden?”

The attendance chime went, and Jango rolled his head back and forth slightly as Boba went to answer it.

“Boba?” he heard Taun We ask. “Is your father here?”

“Don’t worry about little old me,” a calm voice added. “Just here to visit.”

“May we see him?” Taun We added.

“...sure,” Boba said, after several seconds of silence. “Uh. Dad! Taun We’s here!”

Jango moved around the corner of the apartment, to look at the visiting Jedi, and nearly swallowed his tongue.

There was a kriffing Rancor standing behind Taun We. A Rancor wearing a utility belt, attached to which were two lightsabers – one about the size of a small claw, the other big enough that Taun We could have used it as a neck splint.

“Welcome back, Jango,” Taun We said. “Was your trip productive?”

Jango blinked several times.

“...why is there a Rancor behind you?” he asked.

“Hello,” the Rancor said, in that same calm voice. “My name is Knight Tosh. Can I come in?”

Jango was still staring.

“Isn’t it ‘may’?” Boba asked, in the tones of a child who was trying to notice something he could process.

“I’m not sure how big the hallway is,” Tosh explained. “If there’s a problem with my fitting in, that’s fine, I can sit out here and we can talk.”

Putting actions to words, she sat down.

Jango wasn’t sure exactly how he’d decided that the Rancor was a ‘she’, but he supposed they probably did have genders.

“...you’re a Rancor?” he said, still trying to get past that essential point.

“Yes,” Tosh agreed. “A proud daughter of Dathomir. I’m told I’m named for my grandmother, who was the first of us to learn to read and write.”

She steepled the fingers on her enormous clawed hands.

“Aide We,” she said, a little more formally. “I must inform you that I’m here for a number of reasons, not just one. You see, I’ve been looking into a recent assassination attempt on that nice Senator Amidala.”

“Oh, goodness!” Taun We said. “That is most worrying.”

“It is,” Tosh agreed, with a surprisingly kindly smile given that it was a Rancor smiling, something that Jango’s brain kept circling around to. “The assassin is dead, which is fortunate, and I believe that Jango here did us the favour of eliminating her. So I wanted to thank him personally, and also ask if he had any idea why that might have happened… why he might have been hired to kill that particular shapeshifter, that is.”

Then she frowned. “Oh – but where are my manners? We should really start with how it is that you came to be the template for the clone army! It must be a fascinating story. I assume your young son there is involved, somehow?”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, taking the mug from Cliegg Lars. “I think that’ll be enough for us for now.”

“Not a problem,” Cliegg replied. “You and the other Jedi are the one who rescued Anakin from his old life, that’d be enough to make you kin here, even before all you’ve done for us so far.”

“We do our best,” Obi-Wan smiled, taking a sip of the drink. “Very nice. Thank you again, Cliegg.”

“I don’t know what I expected,” Anakin admitted. “I never really imagined what it would be like to have my mom actually marry someone, but… I think he’s nice.”

“It’s not something the Jedi have much experience with,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m just as lost as you are, Anakin.”

“Are you sure this is a good place to hide out, Obi-Wan? Ani?” Padme asked.

She frowned, and waved her hand. “I don’t mean… that it’s a bad idea to be here. We’ve only been here two days and we’ve already rescued your mother, Ani. But if someone comes looking for us… we’re hiding with the only relatives Anakin has in the entire galaxy.”

“I’m quite sure that nobody will find us,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Yeah, I agree with Master Kenobi,” Anakin nodded. “If I was looking for where a Jedi was hiding, I’d never even think of looking for their family. Jedi just don’t think about family. It’s not something we do.”

“But the people who are trying to hunt me down… they do think about family, don’t they?” Padme said. “Or they might, anyway…”

“In which case, fortunately, we are in a very large desert,” Obi-Wan said. “Mos Espa would have been a suitable enough place to hide out, but now we’re off in the desert. A planet is a very big place to hide someone, Senator – and if there’s anyone in the galaxy who wouldn’t try to betray us, it’s Anakin’s close family. Even before we rescued his mother.”

Padme looked conflicted.

“I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I just worry that we’re too easy to find here. I don’t know how rational that is, but the extent of the resources available to our enemies…”

“Where would you have preferred?” Obi-Wan asked. “If this isn’t where you’d have thought to hide, where would you have hidden?”

“I’d have gone to Naboo,” Padme replied. “Relatives of my family have a house up in the lakes, in the mountains. It’s wonderful and calm and nobody ever goes there.”

“Actually, I like the sound of that, Master,” Anakin said. “Are you sure we can’t change plans and go there, now? There’s a lake there.”

“We brought a lake with us, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied, tossing his head to indicate the beaten-up old freighter they’d used to get to Tatooine. “Or a large swimming pool, at least.”

Beru Lars chuckled.

“You three are terrible at this,” she said, from over in the corner. “We’re grateful for your arrival, but… none of you know the first thing about hiding.”

“We don’t?” Anakin asked. “What do you mean?”

“ Tatooine is a planet with slavery, which means a planet with crime,” Beru told them. “If you’re going into hiding, you want to get a good balance between the support network and being impossible to trace back to your owners.”

“Of course,” Padme murmured. “It’s a shame the Republic hasn’t been able to do anything about the slavery out here.”

“That’s your department, isn’t it” Beru asked. “With your being a senator, that is.”

“Padme’s brought it up in the Senate a few times,” Anakin said, defending her. “It’s never gone far, though.”

“Part of the problem is that the Republic doesn’t have the ability to do much about it,” Padme admitted. “We have a navy, but no real army – and bombarding Tatooine to help end slavery seems like a bad idea.”

Beru inclined her head.

“That’s fair,” she conceded. “It’s easy enough to forget that, out here. And I’d bet it seems hard to remember there are people in chains, when you’re on glittering Coruscant.”

“We could be doing more than we are,” Padme allowed. “Once this is over, I’ll see what I can do.”

Darth Tyrannus looked at Jango, his gaze calm. Calm, in the way that the ground was calm, under a descending meteor.

He was extremely unimpressed.

“You told her everything?” he asked, his fingers drumming on his belt next to the handle of his lightsaber.

“Not everything, but… more than I think I should have,” Jango replied, somewhat embarrassed. “You weren’t there. It was… I’d like to see you concentrate on what your story is when there’s a Rancor staring at you. Complimenting you. Offering you tips on how to make tea.”

He shook his head. “Saying that she could smell Coruscant on your clothes. And that’s before the fact that she’s a Jedi.”

Dooku sniffed.

“I think that if I were confronted with a Rancor, and it pulled out a lightsaber, I would be relieved,” he said.

There was a sort of soft thump behind him, and Jango glanced up before going pale and holding up his hands.

“Good afternoon,” a pleasant voice said. “Dooku, it’s nice to meet you at last. Should I call you Count? Or do you prefer the name Darth Tyrannus?”

Dooku knew what he was going to see behind him.

He knew it.

But he had to turn around and look anyway, and so he did.

“Tosh,” he said, and this time he did take his lightsaber off his belt – though he didn’t light it. “How did you get here?”

“A tracking beacon, of course,” Tosh replied. “Well, actually two, one of them was in the fidget spinner I gave young Boba, but I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed so I stuck one to Mr. Fett’s ship as well. I must say, I do like the climate here. Pleasantly dry.”

She smiled, in a way that was somehow disarming until you refocused and remembered what the smile was attached to. “You know, we’re actually somewhat related! In the Jedi sense, at least. I’m not sure how you’ve kept up with master-student relationships in the Temple since you left, but that nice dear Yoda trained me for a few years.”

Dooku did his very best to contain a nervous swallow.

“I have surpassed my old Master,” he said. “I doubt even he could defeat me now.”

“Oh, that’s quite possible,” Tosh agreed, nodding. “Yoda’s always been sentimental, you know. He finds it so hard to fight seriously. It’s not something I’d call a character flaw, but it is what it is.”

She shrugged. “I’d very much appreciate it if we didn’t have to fight today, you know. Since I know you’re a Sith, what about if you give me information on your Master? I know that betrayal is the kind of thing the Sith like to do, and that way we don’t have to fight.”

Dooku evaluated his options.

All it would take for his plans to hold together would be for him to be confident in his ability to defeat this Jedi Knight. This mere… Jedi Knight.

This mere… Rancor… Jedi Knight…

The other option was looking appealing. It was difficult to deny that.

“It’s hard to believe,” Mace Windu admitted, leaning back in his chair.

It was a common posture in the Jedi Council whenever this particular Knight was reporting to them, and Mace felt a most un-Jedi-like pang of jealousy for Yarael Poof. Long-necked and calm, the Quermian Master was the only one able to look Tosh in the eye without either leaning back or standing up.

“Hmm,” Yoda mused. “Mistaken you are not, I assume?”

“Being mistaken is always a possibility, Master,” Tosh answered. “But the plan that Dooku told me does seem to make a good deal of sense… it’s one of those plans where the Sith would win no matter which side of the war was triumphant.”

She spread her massive hands. “It could all be a lie… but it does explain a few things, which leads me to think it might be true. I’d recommend at least testing it.”

“A good approach,” Ki-Adi-Mundi said, to nods from Plo Koon and Sasee Tiin.

“It ties into what Master Gallia has been discovering recently as well,” the latter said. “The Trade Federation’s involvement in this is unsurprising, but the Techno Union, Intergalactic Bank Clan… again, investigation is needed.”

A ripple of agreement ran around the Council.

“And what of the clone army?” Yoda asked. “Commissioned by us, the Kaminoans were told.”

“Oh, I thought the best thing to do was to send them to make sure that nice Senator Amidala was safe,” Tosh replied, with a pleasant smile.

Windu frowned, then looked over at Yoda.

“When was the last time we got an update from Kenobi and Skywalker?” he asked.

“It’s been… a while,” Yarael Poof said, doing his neck exercises. “Last contact was shortly after they reached Tatooine. They were going to avoid broadcasting to make sure they weren’t tracked down.”

Mace Windu activated a holocommunicator.

“Old Folks Home to Guiding Light,” he said. “Knight Kenobi. What is your situation?”

“Guiding Light copies,” a hazy image of Obi-Wan Kenobi replied. “Master Windu, I think we just liberated Tatooine by accident.”

“By accident?” Ki-Adi-Mundi replied. “How exactly did you-”

He stopped, remembering the missions that Kenobi and his Padawan had been on.

“Never mind, carry on,” he requested. “What happened?”

“Someone sent us an army,” Obi-Wan said. “We didn’t actually order them to do anything, but Senator Amidala gave some speeches and I think things sort of escalated from there…”

#star wars #anakin skywalker #jango fett #count dooku #rancor #They could read in the EU #Form VI

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gurugirl · 2 years ago

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Gurugirl's Wattpad & Tumblr Fic Recs

Anything you read in these masterlists won’t disappoint but I’ve picked my absolute favorites from each blog and listed below.

NOTE: I did my best to include all my faves here but I've probably forgotten a few. I intend to add to this list (may need to make a part 2 once I hit my mentions and link limits) because I'm always reading new fics so come back often!

Angst recs (all taken from list below but specific to the more angsty ones)

Daddy kink

Enemies to lovers

Summer vibes & party fics

Personal faves from my own writings

Other blogs I love

Tumblr

@1d1195

One Shot: Right Here: one bed, nightmares, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, childhood "friendship," coworker Harry, grumpy/sunshine (I'll let you guess who's who), etc. etc. etc.

@a-strange-familiar

Series: His Memories (3 parts): you and Harry broke up few months back but still love each other. And after all these months you see him again in a party. All memories you tried to push back in your head came back with a powerful speed.

@adorebeaa

One shot: Undo Me: YN reveals a kink in front of best friend!Harry, who is curious…

@awideworldoffanfics

Series: Milking the Grip (5 parts): Harry Styles is a single dad who golfs every Tuesday. Y/N is his babysitter who also happens to work at the golf course he goes to. They’ve never run into each other there. Until they do.

@be-with-me-so-happily

Series: My Way Back Home: YN is left to figure out what to do when the love of her life, Harry, does not remember loving her. (AU)

Series: Don't Worry Darling: Y/N has her first big break as an actress as she lands the leading role in 'Don't Worry Darling'. The only problem is that her co-star is Harry Styles, who she feels has a very big ego. Tensions rise the more they film. All kinds of tension...

One Shot: Friendly Favor: When YN's best friend Harry asks for a favor, she knows it'll be difficult, but she loves him too much to say no. However, it's a dumb plan, and those usually don't end how you think they will.

Series: Laceleaf: Gemma is definitely Cassidy James' favourite Styles family member, considering they are best friends and all. And especially considering that Harry Styles is Gemma's smug and self-centered younger brother. Her life isn't perfect, and neither is she, but she knows for a fact that anything involving Harry gets messy.

@bopbopstyles

Masterlist (anything you pick here will be a pleasure - seriously)

@fkinavocado

Series: Daddy Issues: in which you’ve got textbook daddy issues and when your tool of a younger brother brings a sweet doe eyed girlfriend home for Thanksgiving and you end up offering her a ride home, you meet just the man to fix them. (daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

Series: Hard Candy: in which Harry owns a candy store and he just loves giving good girls special treats… especially after closing time (candyman!Harry)

One Shots & Blurbs: Long Hair Harry One Shots & Blurbs

@freedomfireflies

Series: Playboy: Welcome to 1965, where the women are loose, and the morals are looser. Here you'll meet Michelle and Harry. You don't need to know too much about them. Just that they're both incredibly bold...and incredibly jealous. The summer of June 1965 was a rather wild one for the Playboy Bunnies but even more wild for our two dear friends. Stick around and I'm sure they'll be happy to tell you all about it. You just have to promise one little thing... Don't tell Hefner.

Series: Teach Me: 5 parts - Harry needs a little practice in the art of Eating Pussy, and who better to ask for help than his best friend?

Series: Mafia!harry: 2 parts so far - more to come - Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has been a little neglectful of his most prized possession. But he's found the perfect way to make it right. Exhibition kink!!

@goldenbuckyyy

Series: Illicit Affairs: A series of events between your affair with Harry. (Cheating together)

@harryistheonlyoneforme

One Shot: Little Freak: pairing: dbf harry x reader (so hot - so many kinks all in one little shot - must read)

@harrywritingsbyme

Sneaking Around (a series of shorts): Best friends dad - FUCKING HOT

@helladirections

Series: Brother's Best Friend: Harry is YN’s brother’s best friend, and YN isn’t a little kid anymore. Ft. dom/sub, rough sex, and soft words.

One Shot: Under Summer Skies: Harry and YN are longtime best friends back for another summer as the Dream Team on staff. Featuring getting called out by 12 year olds, two dumb best friends who can’t see what’s right in front of them, and lots of stargazing.

One Shot: Moka Pot: Do you think you can maybe do y/n and Harry having a slow morning routine? Like drinking tea together, doing skin together, basically just doing everything together?

@itslottiehere

One Shot: I Don't Want to Hear About Him (angsty): bff!harry writes a song about bff!reader.. and her boyfriend.

@jawllines

Harry is Y/n's Criminology Instructor (2 parts)

Harry is a single dad and y/n is surprisingly good at babysitting (2 parts)

Harry & y/n are witches, they hate eachother, and something's coming (3 parts)

Y/n knows something she shouldn't and Harry does what on Fridays? (4 parts) - Boxer!harry

Harry is a grumpy mechanic and y/n just can't stop talking (4 parts)

@jarofstyles

King of the Jungle (multi part series): Y/N’s family works for a wildlife preservation society and Harry is king of the jungle or tarzan!harry

Lone Wolf (multi part series): Harry is a grumpy alpha who has given up on finding his mate or werewolf!harry

Beauty & the Beast (multi part series): Harry is a moody, withdrawn but successful creature who needs a companion who can tend to his… needs.

@lemoncrushh

Series: The Entertainer: Set in the 70s, Sky Jones meets Harry Styles, an up and coming musician and soon-to-be rockstar. The Entertainer Part II

One Shot: Dressing For Revenge: Still heartbroken from finding your ex cheating on you, you go to a nightclub with your friend Kelsie, where not only do you run into your ex, but also a handsome gentleman who’s willing to help you get over him. Part II

@lukesaprince

Series: Intruder: You were an outside hire for a promotion Harry wanted, and he despises you for it. The hatred is mutual since Harry is a bit of an asshole, until the day of an important presentation where the tension is finally dealt with - A very steamy enemies to lovers romance (domrry)

Series: The Roommate Series: After Y/N’s best friend and roommate Alex decides to move out, she’s desperate for someone to take her place. Alex seems to have found the solution in a British fresh-to-New-York musician who ticks all the boxes. He just happens to be insanely attractive and charismatic… what could go wrong? (friends to lovers)

Series: Fratboy!harry You Can Pretend All You Want: You hate fratboys and everything they stand for, so you decide to prove one wrong by sleeping with him… safe to say it backfires (fratboy!harry, enemies to lovers).

Series: Rich: Neighbour/Older!Harry. A Summer dogsitting job for Mr. Styles is a dream come true for any broke uni student. He's rich, gorgeous and finally fucks you after your weekly dinner together. A series that follows two neighbours who end up in a sexual relationship.

@moonchildstyles

Series: Aster: Harry is a tattoo artist and y/n just wants to know if he's like this all the time or if he just doesn't like her. tattoo artist!harry / lhh!harry

Series: Citrine: Harry's a witch and it's been along time since since he's been around anyone new, but there's no way he was getting y/n out of his head. witch!harry

Series: Chiaroscuro: y/n needed a job but this place is strange and the owner is even stranger. vampire!harry

Series: Prosecco: Harry is just on the edge of 30 and y/n is someone he's sure he shouldn't get involved with. until she seeks him out anyway, and he realizes no one has ever really shown her how she should be treated. older!harry

@0oolookitsme

One Shot: Dazzled: In which Harry has an uneasy feeling about Y/n’s new mission but the devil ignores his guts’ screams. But the vampire as well as his fiancé, Y/n, isn’t dumb and is quick to listen and take some weight off of his shoulders. They both soon find out, why, he was feeling uneasy.

One Shot: Anything For You... And I: SMUTTY!!!! Dwd!Harry x Dwd-Character!Y/n

@0nlythrowharrybeaux

Friends Share (2 parts):Harry & Y/N have been practically perfect roommates for several years but the appearance of a hot new neighbor creates an unexpected shift in their relationship.

Unavailable (2 parts): Y/N has a very specific preference for unavailable/inappropriate people and Harry is her therapist who is supposed to help her work through this.

@pleasingforharry

Moans & Elevator Music (2 parts): Y/N is in a rush for an interview at her new job, but her luck gives out when the elevators shut down due to a sudden power outage. At least she isn’t alone.

@purplekiwis

Breaking the Ice (2 parts): Hockey!Harry x Skater!Y/N It’s no secret that as a figure skater, you’re fed up with the local hockey team being treated like royalty… and your ex’s status as a player isn’t helping much either.

In the Witching Hours (will be 3 parts): Wizard!Harry x Witch!Y/N; Soulmates AU An emergency admission to the hospital gives rise to a series of strange events but luckily, there’s a cute, shy wizard around…

One shot: Tentmate: Friends With Benefits Y/N has always hated camping… until her and Harry got stuck together in the same tent. (This one is smutty AF)

@s-brant

Series: The Getaway Car: In a drug deal gone wrong, Y/N, daughter to a famous racecar driver, finds herself behind the wheel of a car with a gun to her head. A masked man named Harry demands she helps him evade the authorities, so she does the only thing she knows how to. She drives.

One Shot: Midas Touch: The night before they leave to spend Christmas with his family, a conversation with their friends makes Harry and Y/N confront the future of their marriage.

@stylesloveclub

Series: Pleasing: In which y/n is a broke waitress, and Harry is a Michelin star chef who thinks she’s cuter than a puppy.

@swiftmendeshoran

Series: Curvy Secret/No More Secrets Daddy: Dad's best friend (dbf!) Harry x plus size reader

@watchmegetobsessed

Series: The Sun Will Rise: You’re glad to be back at college and away from your family. Everything is back to its normal, but you have a little issue: you told your family you’d bring a date to your sister’s wedding, but you have no actual partner. An unexpected deal is made with the person you couldn’t even consider to be your friend: Harry can take the spare room in your apartment for the semester if he’ll be your date for the wedding. But can you actually live together with a guy who obviously dislikes you and you have no idea why? Can you fool your parents into thinking you’re dating Harry? And what will they think about him? Nothing is ever good enough to them, nothing that’s not as perfect as your sister, Alice.

Series: Wildest Fantasies: You’ve been struggling to finish your assignment for Professor Styles’ Creative Writing class. Inspiration is seem to be avoiding you, so to relieve some stress, you mess around with your roommates and write a rather dirty fiction of the hot professor everyone is into on campus. Due to a fatal mistake however, you end up uploading the wrong file as your attachment to your assignment and your wildest fantasies end up in the hands of the person they are about.

Good Girl (Part 2): sugardaddy!Harry / CEO!Harry x Reader

@writerpetals (writes optional male lead smut but you can easily imagine any male *coughharrycough* as the males are described as tall, well-built, with a nice head of hair - read anything this author writes - it's good, you will find almost any trope - ENJOY)

One Shot: Lakeside: werewolf!au, werewolf x reader

@zayndrivesmeinvain

Series (wip): The One That Got Away: In which Harry and Alena were college sweethearts, however, all of that has changed and the only thing keeping in contact is the fact that they have a child together. Is it possible for them to even get to a normal standing friendship or is that long gone? dadrry x oc | single dad!harry

i hit my link limits so was unable to insert link to part one of their series. check out their masterlist and you'll find it!

Wattpad

_miiki

Series: Artwork & Aquarelle: "Sierra, you go with Harry Styles." I raised up my head at the words, giving my teacher an incredulous glance. "Do I really have to?" Was the only thing I managed to say. The teacher gave me an annoyed look. "Did you not understand? You go with Harry Styles." I turned my head to look at him. At the mention of his name he glanced up, and if his green eyes hadn't frozen me in place already, the unimpressed look he gave me would've done it right away.

Aggressivelyfriendly = @aggresivelyfriendly

Series: Who Names the Colors: In the last year, Joanne Smith Giles, has once again become Jo Smith. In another heartbreaking turn of events, she's also the single mother of an infant, again. She knows she can do this on her own, and better at 40 than 19, but it seems weird to be launching a son into manhood, a new career as an art professor, and changing nappies all in one day. She is so thankful when Ethan, her boy, comes home from Uni. Jo could use the help. His best friend, Harry, comes round too. And his launch into manhood may be another heartbreaking turn, for all of them

ErinAlterEgo = @yourwattpadmom

Series: Late night Talking: Alex is craving something at night, and it's not ice cream. Encouraged by her husband to explore a polyamory relationship to meet some of her more....eclectic tastes, she finds herself on a dating app for the first time in her life. She expected maybe some interesting experiences, possibly her first one-night stand ever. She didn't expect to meet a man who made her question everything about herself. Harry is on a new path in his life that is exciting and different than he ever could have imagined. He's looking for excitement, experiences, but definitely not love and attachment. When he meets Alex, he sees a whole new path that he's unsure he wants to go down, but finds it hard to resist.

Hitterj (love all of her stuff!)

Series: All This Time: The coming-of-age story of Harry and Riley who have known each other for years, but never actually knew each other. They've spent countless nights at the same parties, shared a few drinks and glances, they're even on track to graduate top of their class. What happens when out of nowhere they start to connect? Like an invisible string pulls them together, so they can experience life and love and heartbreak. Riley and Harry learn a lot about themselves, and ultimately have to choose what's best for their future no matter how difficult that can be. But does love find a way? After all this time?

Series: Kiwi: If you don't know about this one by now... go read it - super duper smutty and sweet and angsty

Series: Sweet Little Lies: All her life, Ivy Malone has known what her family was. She grew up in the deep, unforgiving world of the mob. Ivy hates her position in life, knowing that her life was never fully hers. Harry Styles was cold. He trusted almost no one, especially his family. He had learned quickly that everyone was waiting for him to fail... to fall. An empire built by his father from the blood and bones of those who stepped in his way was all he had, no matter how much he hated it. He had no choice but to carry on the legacy. And marrying Malone's daughter was the next step in fortifying their defense. With new rivals making a move for power and a mysterious figure haunting the crime families of Queenstown, Ivy and Harry have to learn to live together. A bad start leads them down a tumultuous, passionate, and downright dangerous path, but maybe they were exactly what the other needed to live the life they always craved.

MysteryMixtapes (Just go read all their stuff)

Series: Stall & Stall 2: Violence/gangs/dark

Series: Perspective: Have you ever met someone that made falling feel like flying?

Series: Unforgettable: "If it feels so right, how can it be wrong?"

Peanutboyfriend (read all of Birdie's stuff - you won't regret it)

Series: Aerial: In Malibu, California in 1965, a surfer and world-famous aerialist undergoes a chain of comedic and not-so-comedic mishaps that force him to re-evaluate who he is.

Petit_cerise

Series: Devil's Due & Devil's Desire: Harry Styles, the brooding and intolerable tattoo parlour owner, meets River, a stubborn and somewhat oblivious girl, who just doesn't understand the reasoning behind his nefarious ways but is determined to find out. River comes to realize that Harry's hiding something much deeper than expected... only once those secrets come to the surface, it's too late to turn back.

Sunflowersnstuff

Series: One Word & Wonderland: We're all mad here, it's Wonderland.

ThousandYearsOfHope

Series: Lonely Nights: Willow Mackey is a quiet girl, but she is fiercely loyal and will never lie to you. Harry Styles is her brother's best friend, and someone she'll always have a soft spot for. Grown up and no longer shielded by their ages, lines start to blur, and mistakes keep being made. For the first time in her life, Willow realises that sometimes, the truth is too painful to hear. But how could she ever say no to the one person that's always understood her better than she understands herself?

Series: Pretty Boy: One night of impulse shouldn't lead to much for Joni Lewis, but when she meets the alluring Harry Styles, an opportunity arises that she can't ignore. A Harry Styles short story inspired by Pretty Woman.

Writhali (I really like everything I've read by Thali)

Series: Ambit: Gangs/violence/action/SMUT - "Hell's boring, Birdie." He claims, that cold, dead stare back to his eyes. "And this, this is what I call a Monday night."

#gurugirl fic recs #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry styles fic #my faves

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the-writer-arrived · 1 year ago

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Dan Heng NSFW Alphabet

Synopsis: let's take a peek on how your lover is in bed, shall we?

Character: dan heng.

Warnings: afab!reader; reader is part of the astral express but isn't the trailblazer; spoilers about dan heng's past and his companion mission.

A/N: in celebration for dan heng imbibitor lunae release (finally!!), i give you all this! may our dragon boyfie come home to all who wants him <3

(p.s. that mf made me lose the 50/50 💀 his light cone better come home 😭.)

(edit: IT WORKED HIS LIGHT CONE CAME ON THE 31 😭😭😭😭)

This work has sexual themes and is not suitable for minors. If you click on read more, I am not responsable for any discomfort you may feel reading this. You have been warned.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Dan Heng's nickname in Belobog's fight club may be "Cold Dragon Young", but he's anything but cold to you especially after sex.

After your sexual lives began, Dan Heng made sure to always have a box of tissues, a towel and a bottle of water at hand's reach.

He prefers to do the deed in your room instead of his since, you know, it's the Express databank...

Therefore, those things are usually inside a drawer of your nightstand for easier access to the both of you.

Also cuddling is a must for him.

On days Dan Heng is feeling particularly clingy, he will wrap his arms AND tail around you, not minding the feeling of your sweaty and sticky bodies.

But don't worry, he will take you to the bathroom to clean you and him in the shower/bath, before returning to bed.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

If someone had asked him that before he got together with you, he wouldn't know what to answer.

Now, however, he'd answer his hands.

Curiously enough, you've always been fascinated by Dan Heng's hands.

You loved holding it, playing with his fingers, saying they were so soft, even softer than your own!

You also loved dragging him to the sleepovers in March's room, which you would paint your boyfriend's nails while March would do the Trailblazer's.

Now, about his favorite body part of yours, it's an easy answer: your neck.

It goes hand in hand with his kink (or rather, instinct) of marking you.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums an embarrassing (to him) amount.

Although the Vidyadhara can't have offsprings, they still are a dragon species and, considering Dan Heng has a much closer conection to the water dragon he controls, his instincts are stronger than others of his kin.

Yes, this is just a roundabout way to say he has a breeding kink

It's usually thick and gooey, but when he's in heat, it becomes more watery.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When you joined the Astral Express, you were sure Dan Heng disliked you.

Although he was never outright rude to you during the (very few) interactions you two had in the beggining, he would never be in the same room as you.

Himeko assured you that the young man was just shy, but even she was at a loss at that unusual behavior of his.

Dan Heng was avoiding you, yes, but it wasn't because he hated your guts or anything.

It was because your scent was driving him crazy.

The second he landed his eyes on you, your scent invaded his system and every single fiber of his being was being pulled to you.

But he couldn't, he shouldn't. There was too much danger in his life.

But by the Aeons... He had to do something, or else he might lose his mind.

So, when everyone in the train was asleep, Dan Heng would let his thoughts be consumed by you and guide his hand to his shaft...

He would rather go through molting rebirth again than admit he did such debauchery to you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

My guy has been in the Shackling Prison ever since he was born and after being banished from the Luofu, he had to keep looking over his shoulder for a psycho who's out for his blood.

It's suffice to say that Dan Heng doesn't have any experience in relationships or sex.

Please have patience with him, he will fumble but he really wants to make you feel good :(

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I believe Dan Heng would prefer positions which he can see your face, be it directly or through a mirror's reflection.

What he must have, however, is access to your neck, his favorite body part of yours as mentioned on B.

So, if you do positions like cowgirl/reverse cowgirl, you can expect to have a restless (dragon) lover under you, squirming for wanting to have you closer in order to mark your pretty skin.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He's definitely not one to be funny in bed... intentionally, that is.

Have you seen him throwing peace signs when the Silvermane Guards were pursuing the trio in Jarilo-VI?

Or him doing that when March took a photo of him next to the High Elder statue on that short animation?

Or even the things he says with the most poker face ever?

Anyway, what I mean to say is that Dan Heng is funny without trying to and that (unfortunately to him) sometimes happen in bed.

He will huff while you're giggling with yourself, before bringing you back to the right mood with a searing kiss.

What were you laughing at again? I don't know, maybe you should focus on those hypnotizing eyes darkened with lust staring down at you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As said on E, Dan Heng doesn't have much experience in relationships, therefore never really worried that much about pubic hair.

After joining the Express and having a safe place to be, he would groom himself and trim a bit just so it wasn't too much or too long.

Now that he's with you, he likes to keep his bush small and very well groomed, so it won't bother your nose when you suck him off.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

His draconic instincts aside, Dan Heng really, really, REALLY enjoys keeping you in his arms.

99% of the time you guys "make love" instead of fucking.

This is the first time in his life (as Dan Heng) that he feels utterly safe and conected with someone in so many different aspects.

When he says "I love you" during the deed, it comes from the deepest, most precious part of his heart.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Honestly, he used to masturbate more before you two got together.

Again, he will never tell you that or, at least, not any time soon...

Now? It's rare for him to do it.

If he's in the mood, usually you are as well.

Sure, mutual masturbation is hot and all, but he'd much rather be inside your warm and inviting pussy.

The only time he'll jack off is when you are away from each other in trailblazing missions.

You know Dan Heng will try to hold off touching himself until he can go back to the Express, but he becomes soooo snappy and with a permanent frown on his face.

So, please, send him some photos of you or audios to break his resolve and make him relax a little until he returns to your side.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

As mentioned in the very begginning of the list, I am 100% sure Dan Heng has a breeding kink, even if he can't procreate.

It's such a filthy sight, your hole fluttering after he pulls out, your mixed fluids leaking from it... A voice, primal, in the back of his mind telling him he should push it back inside or, even better, stuff you with his cum once again...

He can't get enough of it.

Also, you won't leave the bed without at least a dozen marks on your skin.

Bites, hickeys, marks of his fingers for gripping you too tightly... You'll see all of that and more on the morning after.

Your boyfriend is considerate enough to not leave them on places you can't hide with your clother or make up.

...Unless you made him jealous on purpose or has been teasing him throughout the day.

I guess scent kink is also a thing for him.

You almost make him delirious with lust when you're on your ovulating period.

Praise your guy to your heart's content, it works wonders when you want Dan Heng to let loose and fuck your brains.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

No matter how horny he is, Dan Heng will only touch you on the privacy of the bedroom.

Preferably yours since he doesn't really have a bed on the Data Bank Archieves.

Which is fine, considering he basically moved to your room.

The reason for that is the comfort and sense of security the private space gives him.

He doesn't have to be on alert for any kind of danger and can give you his undivided attention.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Call him corny, but it's when you show him you love him.

For most of his life, he has been followed by the shadow of Dan Feng and his deeds, both good and bad.

Even after Jing Yuan revoked his banishment from the Luofu, there are still many people, especially the Vidyadhara, who look at him with contempt.

Not to mention Blade hunting him through the universe to make him pay the price for his Dan Feng's sins.

So, when you cup his cheeks, stare at his eyes so softly and tell him you love him for who he is, not the shadow of his precious reincarnation...

His heart can't barely handle all the feelings that well up inside.

Dan Heng tries his best to show you how he feels by the breathtaking kisses and relentless pace of his hips snapping with yours, with chants of your name like a devotee does to their beloved deity.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

If you enjoy feeling a bit of pain in bed, I'm sorry to tell you, but Dan Heng refuses to do anything that may cause even the tiniest bit of pain to you...

Okay, it's not like he'll NEVER do it if you do enjoy it, but it'll take a lot of coaxing and reassurance.

His worst nightmare is to hurt you in any shape or form.

One thing that he will not do, no matter what, is share you.

So no threesome with Blade, sorry.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I see Dan Heng as the giver type, to be honest.

Not that he dislikes you sucking him off, far from it!

He just adores being nestled between your thighs, your drooling cunt on his mouth...

And if you convince him to eat you out on his Imbibitor Lunae form? It's a sure way to send you to heaven.

Grab his horns like your lifeline, it will make him moan into your folds and grind his cock onto the bed.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

On normal days, the pace is slow but deep.

No matter how much you ask, beg, demand for your lover to go faster, he won't and it drives you crazy (in a good way).

He's addicted to the way your core tightens around his member like a vice when you're so close to the edge.

Only then he will concede to your wishes, so you can cum together.

When he's in heat? Good luck walking tomorrow soldier 🫡

Each of his thrusts are so deep, so fast, so hard, but never deep enough, never fast enough, never hard enough to satisfy his desires.

I hope your bed is strong enough to survive the whole night.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn't like it.

To Dan Heng, being physically intimate with you requires a process, a moment when the two of you tune out the world and just focus on each other.

Like I said on P, he likes to take his time with you, to really feel every single inch of you.

Sure, there are times when both of you are too horny to wait until you are in the comfort of your bedroom and there's too little time to spare.

Even so, quickies don't satisfy him completely.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Another thing that he doesn't enjoy it.

Dan Heng is a bit self conscious about the thought of other people hearing or, Aeons forbid, see you two doing it.

A spoiler for the V part, but this guy isn't exactly quiet during the fun 🤫

That's one of the reasons why doing it on a public or semi-public place is a no for him.

Using a vibrator though, especially on him, now that's something that may happen.

Again, it'll take some coaxing from you, but there's a bigger chance of him agreeing in the end.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Even when Dan Heng is in his human form, his stamina is above average.

When he's in heat? Again, good luck walking tomorrow.

If it was up to his draconic desires, he would go all night without a break.

Fortunately for you, he can hold on to his senses enough to remember that you would not survive if that happened.

You'd die happy, but he doesn't want to lose you.

On the morning after, you two are "gently" reminded by Himeko and Welt that there are other passengers on the Express and everyone would very much like to sleep in peace ✨

Poor March had to sleep over with the Trailblazer in their room, which was the furthest from yours.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Our boy knows what a dildo and a vibrator are on theory, never tried them himself.

You'll have to be the one to introduce them in the relationship, if you want to.

I see Dan Heng as a switch, leaning to the sub side tbh.

With that in mind, I believe the toys are used more frequently on him than on you.

His favorite is those vibrators that can be controlled by a phone app, it's discreet and you can keep your partner on their toes.

His collection isn't big, maybe he owns two or three at max.

His first sex toy was one of those male masturbators, a gift from you.

Poor guy was so confused on what the hell that thing was (totally understandable, some of those look like a blender???).

Needless to say that his face turned red in no time after your explanation.

It doesn't come close to your hands and mouth, but it does a good job when you two can't be together for whatever reason.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If there is someone who loves to tease to hell and back, it's you.

You can't help it! Dan Heng looks sooooo adorable, trying his hardest to keep a straight face while a pink tint warms his cheeks.

Your teasing can go two ways: you may have him whimpering and begging for more under you OR he will retaliate and have you whimpering and begging for forgiveness under him.

In any case, you see it as a win in your book ✨

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

*Me, speaking into the mic.* Dan Heng is a whimperer and whinier.

*The crowd boos and I leave with my head down.*

She's right! *There is a yell coming from the back.*

*It's you, with Dan Heng dying from embarrasment next to you.*

Jokes aside, I do believe our Cold Dragon Young isn't loud per se, but a whimperer for sure.

He's embarrassed by that, so he does all he can to keep his sounds at bay.

When he's in Hot Dragon Young mode, he'll do a 180°.

Embarrassed? Shy? Quiet? Not Vidyadhara Dan Heng.

He growls, he moans, he curses, he straight up purrs the more he pounds and bullies your pussy with his cock(s).

Yes, he has two, it's a consensus between writers and artists.

Please gift everyone in the Astral Express ear buds, they will need them.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Despite having a breeding kink, of course Dan Heng is aware his species isn't fertile.

He knows there are no chances of him creating a new life by the conventional means of procreation.

And yet... Watching you interact with Hook and the other children of Belobog... Watching you hold Bailu in your arms...

He can't help but daydream of the 'what ifs' and 'would be'.

If he could, he wonders what would your child be like?

Would they look more like you? Or him?

Would they have similar personality to you or him? Perhaps a mix of both?

Would they inherit his draconic features?

...Would they have a long life span like him?

...Would they still be by his side, after your passing..?

...Will he even be able to handle to live a life without you once again...?

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I am terrible at describing things, let alone dicks of fictional characters, so bear with me OTL

Okay, so, it's been established that Dan Heng has two cocks. Good? Good.

I like to think that they also change when he turns into his original appearance.

Human Dan Heng: only one dick, but still has a bit more length than average, on the thiner spectrum, slightly curved upward

Imbibitor Lunae Dan Heng: two dicks, a growth in girth to leave you full but not stuffed, the veins are more proeminent.

How does one describe a pretty dick? Idk, but it's the first thing that comes to mind when you see it.

He's a pretty guy after all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I know I've talking about his heat period like a broken record, but that's because watching aloof characters becoming crazy with lust makes me absolutely feral 🥴

But honestly? Among all the Honkai Star Rail men, I see Dan Heng with the lowest sex drive.

Not that he isn't interested in you physically, far from it! He adores your body and when you show it off to tease him, it's always very effective.

It's just that I see he has bigger emotional needs than sexual needs in the daily life.

Lover boy can go two, three days without having sex with you just fine.

It depends more on how is your sex drive.

If you ask him, he'll gladly go down on you whenever you wish.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Dan Heng will only fall asleep after you do.

It comes from a desire to protect you from anything and everything.

He won't allow himself to completely rest until you are fully comfortable and in deep sleep.

Only then, he will kiss you on the forehead and bring you into his arms, giving you a sense of security you won't be able to find anywhere else in the whole universe.

#blue.writes: honkai star rail #blue.writes: dan heng #blue.writes: smut #honkai star rail x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng smut #honkai star rail smut #minors dni #not suitable for minors

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marilynthornhilllover · 4 months ago

Text

To Become A Dragon Rider

Rhaenyra .Targaryen X Fem!Reader

Warning: smut 18+, breast sucking, speaking in high valerian, french kissing , slight masturbation, choking , mommy kink, tamed kink, praise kink, fingering, riding of fingers, Rhaenyra being controlling and dominant.

N.B: the valerian translation is not perfect, I used the shows translation,the rest I got from Google so forgive me if it is not 100% accurate.

As the queen's loyal advisor and hand it was your swore duty to inform her when her plans or acts were outrageous or not align with what the realms wishes. Rhaenyra was planning to send Elinda to king's landing to recruit all the long forgotten targaryen bastard that were swept under the carpet and kept hidden for years.

Her plan was to bring them to dragonstone to have them claim a dragon. Either vermithor or sliverwing. You tried to talk her grace out of the corruptible act. It was beyond dangerous to even think about nonetheless to even put a foot to attempt. It was a huge risk, and rhaenyra knew that but so did the dragonseeds.

Also, wherein doing this act she weakens Jacaerys' claim to the throne and his birth right to succeed her when she dies. It was no lie that Jace was a basterd, everyone knew that. Perhaps when rhaenyra laid with ser harwin she didn't think others will know, maybe didn't think he'd take his hair color....

They knew that without a doubt in the world that the chance that stood before them claiming a dragon was perhaps none. Dragons were said to be Gods, what makes a targaryen different from men. And the price you pay for attempting to claim one was death.... your life was the price.

Having a dragon was jace's only excuse to the claim that he wasn't a basterd, because basterds couldn't ride on dragons yet with this his excuse falls short of it's validity. You tried breaking it down for her in the sweetest most understandable way possible, but rhaenyra was a targaryen. And whatever she wishes, she shall have.

You walked slowly behind her, both of you followed by guards as you entered into the hall. Rhaenyra immediately stopped when one of her dragonkeepers approaches her.

" heksir Daor sȳrī issa ( this is not well!)" He speaks, clearly angrily. Rhaenyra stops and looks back glancing at you before she proceeds to walk again.

" Skoros ȳdrassis hen? ( what do you speak of)?" She asks, clearly confused. He huffs as he angrily approaches rhaenyra but takes awareness of her guards eyeing him closely.

" Issa vali se nyke jāhor daor gūrogon isse bisa! ( my men and I will not take part in this madness)" he says as he eyes rhaenyra up and down before storming off, the other dragonkeepers following quickly behind with their heads bowed. Rhaenyra clenched her jaw before she sighs.

She looked around the room, eyeing all of those who stood before her, the dragonseeds. A small half smile appears on her face and she approaches them. Taking a deep inhale she speaks up.

" I know that each of you have left behind a life to answer this call, a life to which you may never return to, but I assure you that if you survive you will be transferred, no man can claim a dragon and be otherwise" she says walking around the room, carefully inspecting everyone. Trying to pinpoint the braves ones, the weak ones and of course the ones with little hearts but big dreams. The ones who just want a better life perhaps.

But with a dragon does not come a better life, with a dragon comes war, death, privation, starvation. Rhaenyra continues to talk and you zone out. All your childhood you've only ever wanted to become a dragon rider, to feel what it feels like to be a kin, to serve the realm. You knew that it was never going to happen. Only the blood of dragon can conquer and tame their own kind, dragons.

You loved rhaenyra, she was the realms delight, you vowed to serve her faithful and truthfully until death. And you'd stop at nothing until she sits her throne.

" the dragon" Hearing her voice again you immediately snap out of your thoughts, not wanting to miss anything important and suffer the consequences of it.

" named vermithor, is the largest in the world after vhagar and perhaps the most fierce" she pauses and looks up at you before her eyes connects with the ceiling.

" he's called the bronze fury, we'll go to him now" she picks up her cloak and walks towards the door that leads to the hallway of the dragon cave before she stops again.

" and...may the God's bless you" she then nodds and continues to make her way out of the room. Everyone following behind. Everyone follows her onto the platform and they all look around in awe. You keep your distance, staying in the entrance of the hall. Rhaenyra walks all the way towards the end of the platform and turns around to face everyone.

" naejot māzīs vermithor" she commands, her valyrian accent was thick and the way she rolled her R's was stunning. You bit your lip and tried to control your breathing, you were well aware of the little crush you had on rhaenyra for the longest time but as time grew and you became her hand was it was certain that your love for her also grew.

You never hid your feelings from rhaenyra, she knew. You almost had a chance with her but then she was married off to laenor, then daemon. But now that daemon was in harrenhall the chemistry and tension between the both of you had been growing more and more each passing day. You tried to contain yourself and while it was working there were certain things she did that made your skin hot.

A deafening silence can be heard before a low rumbling erupts after rhaenyra spoke and everyone gasps and grabs onto the nearest wall or person beside them. The sound of claw scrapping and a loud growl echos from beneath the surface of the platform and rhaenyra turns around as vermithor emerges from the depths of the darkness. Everyone shudders as they look up at the enormous beast completely terrified.

The beast screeches and opens it's mouth wide, it's long and sharp teeth showing as a threat. Rhaenyra doesn't flinch or move, facing vermithor head on without fear.

" vermithor lykiri" she says, her tone soft and calm yet the creature is surly aware of the power she holds as a targaryen but after years of not having a rider and being locked up with pent up stress the dragon seems restless. Vermithor growls and places her wing on the platform causing a piece of it to break as the others behind step back in terror as their Hearts pounded rapidly in their chest.

" lykiri!" Rhaenyra shouts and the dragon looks down at her and pulls back before he growls loudly, the large sum of air slightly pushing against Rhaenyra but she doesn't move with it.

" DOHĀRĪS!" She shouted again but this time for demanding and the beast finally obeys, closing it's mouth, he slowly pushes his head towards her grace in a calm surrendering way. Rhaenyra gently and peacefully places her hand on him and he closes his eyes and breathes. Rhaenyra smirks and turns around.

" who amongst you will be first?" She asks, her voice thick and sultry, slightly husk too from shouting. There's a slight pause before someone steps forward. Everyone looks at him and he looks at rhaenyra, complete fear bounds in his eyes. Rhaenyra's eyes flick up to yours and for a moment she holds your gaze.

In her bright green eyes all you see swirling in them is desire and need. For what you do not know. She may or may not end this day with new dragon riders, but the hardest task was getting dragonseeds to begin with. You feel ashamed of it but a feeling of wetness can be felt between in your legs as she continues to challenge you with her vicious gaze.

You could slowly feel yourself getting hot. Maybe it was the air, or perhaps maybe due to being in a dragon cave with little to no ventilation or maybe it was the look in rhaenyra's eyes. As if she wanted to devour you. You'll be honest hearing her speak in high valerian with her accent did things to you, it wasn't the first occasion but it was certainly the first time you heard her speak in such demanding tone.

Suddenly you wanted to be at her mercy and command, on your knees maybe.... have her praise you in high valerian. Command you, shout at you. You've always been thankful rhaenyra wasn't cruel to you, but seeing her strict side made you think of all the things she could do to you do to you.

Maybe you wanted to see that side of her. The tension began to rise and you felt as your chest getting heavier with every breath you took, you swallowed heavily and quickly averted your gaze, upon doing this you walked swiftly towards the queen's chambers. When's she finished she'll return. You weren't supposed to leave her side at all, you weren't even to leave the room without her permission but you couldn't stand there a second longer.

You may explode.

When rhaenyra saw you leave in such a haste she too quickly dismissed herself.

" I have nothing more to tell you, it must be the dragon who speaks" she says, nodding to everyone as she quickly fled the place.

You closed the door behind yourself and walked towards her desk. You placed both hands at the side of the table in attempt to steady yourself. You felt light headed, you could feel your own juices pooling at the inner parts of your thighs. Slipping your hand into your underwear you felt your wetness, moaning softly at how sensitive you were as well.

You began to rub slow circles around your bud gripping the table even tighter as soft whimpers slipped from your lips.

" why did you leave?" You jumped, totally caught off guard by the sudden intrusion you swiftly spun on your toes to see rhaenyra standing at the door. All the color drains from your face and your convinced she can see how sticky your fingers are as they are coated with your own juices. Rhaenyra eyed you her eyebrows quirked as she patiently awaited your answer.

You swallowed thickly your voice even breaking as you spoke.

" i— I uh— forgive me your grace but I'm afraid I do not have an excuse" you said looking everywhere but at her eyes, biting your lips you watch as she slowly approaches you. Her eyes glued on yours, a predator stare, for you, her prey. Every step she took towards you was one step backwards for you until she had you completely caged in. No space to run, just the wall, you and her.

Your breathing intensified when she pressed her body weight on yours. Her eyes traced down your body before they suddenly snapped back up to your eyes a new found darkness lingering within them. You are caught off guard when rhaenyra roughly forces her hand around your neck. You gasp as your hands flew to the hand that was wrapped around your neck.

There is a predatory hunger, dark and urgent, in the way she stares at you. It makes you want to shrink into yourself or even disappear. It frightens you the way she stares into your soul, but not as much as the urge you have to simply give in to her. The room feels too hot, your skin blazes and you grow wetter between your thighs, guilt eating away at you for it.

You are broken from your thoughts when rhaenyra's hand cups your mound beneath your skirt, her lips parting slightly as she feels the arousal gathered there. Your eyes go wide and you try to move your hips away but you remember your trapped between her and the wall. You swallow a moan when her hand pushes itself pass your undergarment and into your panties.

" you dare to lie to me?" she whispers her voice smooth and dripping with honey but you heard the rasp of demand lingering within. She smirks when she sees your eyes go dim and your breath hitches when her finger hovers cover the entrance of your cunt, she could feel the wetness pouring out on the digit as she slowly drags it back up to your clit teasing the small bud.

You feel her squeeze your neck tighter, urging you to answer her. You didn't know what to say, your brain had already became clouded with the possibilities of what she could do to you right now.

" i—fuck rhaenyra, I mean my grace, it's your high valerian accent" you answered, Rhaenyra removes her hand from your neck and positioned it at your hip, her grip on you firm as ever. Her body heat radiating off her making you more hot. Your head falls back against the wall and your eyes close when you feel her enter two fingers inside of you.

" your gonna ride my fingers like the good slut you are" she muttered against your lips as she leaned in to kiss you. Her lips were just as soft as you had imagined if not better. Her hand moved up your side and back up towards your neck but this time she didnt choke you, she just allowed her hand to rest there.

She forced another one of her digits inside of you which caused you to let out a pornographic moan to which she swallowed. Your eyes rolled back at the intense and sudden intrusion, the stretch had you collapsing on her shoulder as your knees gave out and your legs quivered.

Her tongue wondered in the depths of your mouth as she French kissed you. Her tongue completely enveloping yours and sucking on it as you slowly dragged your hips forward and backwards riding rhaenyra's fingers, whimpering like a needy dog. Rhaenyra broke the kiss and pulled away, chuckling when you chased after her lips.

She curled her fingers in you and once again your head fell back against the stone cold wall behind you. You started moving your hips at a faster pace as you slowly began to fall apart on her slender fingers. Rhaenyra could feel you clenching around her fingers as your juices dripped from them.

Rhaenyra started making a circular motion with her fingers as her hand grabbed your hip again and started forcing you up and down. You grabbed onto her shoulders to stabilize yourself as you trashed against her. Your sure that any passbyers could hear your moans and the squelching sound of her fingers connecting with that spongy spot in you.

" Sȳz riña ( good girl)" she purred as she started thrusting her fingers as deep as they can go, knuckle length in you. You could feel your cunt spamming around her as you neared your climax. You needed it badly, but rhaenyra was not going to allow you to cum so easily.

" That's it, good girl, such a good girl" she whispered, her lips made contact with your neck as she gently began to suck on the tender flesh, she knew she couldn't mark you, but a part of her wanted to. Wanted to make it known to everyone that you were hers. Daemon might as well have not existed anymore because it was you rhaenyra wanted, and she always gets what she wants.

" Pleasepleaseplease, Rhaenyra please I want it so bad please let me cum" you cried trying your hardest not to let go and fall into oblivion. Rhaenyra chuckled but said nothing. She continued to bruise your skin with kisses and marks. You muttered a soft " oh fuck" when he fingers managed to drive deeper into your pussy when you lifted your hips.

" perhaps you should beg me in valerian.... if you so desperately want it of course" you could feel her smirk against you when you whined. She was going to be the absolute death of you. You started thinking of ways in which you could translate yourself, thinking back on all the times you heard her speak valerian or heard someone else spoke valerian.

You didn't know much, and your pronunciation was always off, you did understand when others spoke it but it had always seemed like trouble when you tried to speak it for yourself. Rhaenyra's fingers curve deeper into your cunt which causes you to cry out as your nails drag against the wall.

" shhh, time is ticking ñuha Rāqnon ( my love )" she husked, her pace picking up. A silent scream surpassed your lips and your eyes squeezed shut, her fingers in you felt so good your hips still moving against them.

" ijiōragon ( please)" you whispered as tears pricked the corners of your eyes as they snapped open to find her already staring. The animalistic look in her eyes was almost enough to make you entirely make a mess on her fingers.

" Kostagon nyke māzigon? ( may I come)" you asked and she smirked.

" Nyke ȳdra daor gīmigon ( I don't know )" she replied, at this point she was playing games with you, She was sending you crazy. Her fingers in you were moving at a pace you didn't even know was humanly possible. She had them so far deep in you, you felt every movement. You clenched down around her as your eyes rolled back. God she took up so much space in you.

If anyone were to enter and see this scene they would only think of you as a slut from henceforth. But you didn't care.

You could feel your orgam approaching and so did she. She could feel how needy you were for it. The way you were clenching around her. She pulls out her fingers half way and slam them deep into you. She started thrusting hard into your g spot with her fingers deeply curled into you. You could feel the knot in your stomach already forming.

Your hands immediately grab her hair, pulling against it and straching your nails against her scalp.

" good God's rhaenyra please— fuck!" Your eyes roll back and your back arches slightly off the wall as your orgasm hits you like a passing train. Your breathing is heavy and your legs were trembling if not for her strong grip on you, you would have crumbled to the ground. After you came down from your high your reopened your eyes and you are immediately met with rhaenyra's primal gaze.

" remove your cloak" you were confused by her demand but you obeyed her order and removed your cloak. Rhaenyra finished the job and undid the lace to your dress to expose your breast. You gasped when he pinched the small bud to your left breast causing it to become more erect. Her eyes flicked up towards yours as she smirked at you.

Her lips found your left nipple as she attached her mouth to it. Sucking gently her hand slid up your back pressing your chest into her face more. You tilted your head back a bit and allowed her to pull and twist your small bud with her tongue like a baby. Rhaenyra's other hand came up to your other neglected breast and began groping it. You moaned softly and closed your eyes as you gave into the feeling.

Rhaenyra released your nipple with a 'pop' as Slavia dragged from her mouth to the bud before she envelope the other nipple into her mouth and started twisting the bud, slightly chewing on it even. You whined but it was quickly cut off when the door knob rattled and twisted. Rhaenyra quickly removed herself from you and you grabbed your cloak and put it back on.

The door swings opens and rhaenyra's sworn knight steps through. Rhaenyra pretends to inspect the floor as she clears her throat and you turn your body so that your back would be facing the door.

" your grace, pardon the sudden intrusion but the dragon vermithor has chosen it's new rider.... you must come now" he says Clearly out of breath. Rhaenyra nods turning to look at you but you avoided her gaze. She clenches her jaw and looks down before looking back up at the knight. She walks swiftly pass him as he turns to follow her, closing the door on his way out he looks at you suspiciously.

When they both left you sighed a breath of relief. Today was a day, Rhaenyra's plan did work. Getting Vermithor and sliverwing a rider was successful. But Hugh and ulf weren't the only ones who got to ride and dragon today, you rode a special one in it's chambers......

#fypシ゚viral #fanfic #house of the dragok fanfics #house of the dragon #hotd rhaenyra #rhaenyra x alicent #rhaenys targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenicent #queen rhaenyra #daemon targaryen #hotdedit #hotd season 2 #hotd fanfics #love #smut #dragons #high valyrian

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navybrat817 · 1 year ago

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What Happens in Vegas

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You get more than you bargained for when you decide to get married in Vegas. Word Count: Over 2.8k Warnings: Drinking, drunk wedding, accidental marriage, supernatural element, dubcon elements, soft!dark vibes, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I wasn't able to get all 4 birthday stories done, but I hope you lovelies enjoy the ones I plan to share. Here's 1 of 2! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you for spitballing), but any and all mistakes are my own. Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer as well for letting me scream about this. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The fluorescent lights of the strip flashed as you stumbled along the sidewalk. Fast paced and surreal, the city that never sleeps offered a little something for everyone. Entertainment, architecture, adventure. While your intention for the evening was to grab a drink with some friends and nothing more, you decided to do something bolder. Crazier. Because what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?

“Goin’ to the chapel and we’re… gonna get maaaaaaried,” you sang, squinting as your guy, date, whoever he was, helped steady you. “Who or what was your name again? Randy?”

“That’s not my name. It’s-”

“Randy. ‘Cause you’re a rando,” you declared, making him laugh.

Forgetting the guy’s name should’ve been your first clue to call it a night and go back to your hotel. Randy was cute enough though and bought all of you drinks. When you told him most of your friends were hitched or close to getting married while you were still single, he joked that he’d marry you.

“Fuck it! Let’s get married!”

Which was how you found yourself on his arm heading to a chapel.

Your second clue to go back to your room should’ve been that none of your friends stopped you. Not a single one told you to stay or offered to go with you, which was strange. Not that each of you hadn’t done stupid stuff before. Letting you go off with a stranger though? In an unfamiliar city?

Bitches. All of them. Noooooo. I love my girlfriends. They’re just DRUNK, like me.

You did feel sad for a second. While your friends all had family who would’ve thrown a fit if they eloped or married a stranger, you didn’t. Your dad would never give you away. Your mom wouldn’t wipe her tears as she heard you say your vows. So who cared what you did?

You sure as hell didn’t.

“Here,” Randy said, pulling you toward a door. “This place is supposed to be really nice.”

“OOOOOOOOH. Reeeeeeeally nice,” you said, gasping once you stepped inside.

You expected cheesy decor to smack you in the face, but instead found yourself in a luxurious entryway. Sparkles of gold lined the sleek floor and walls all the way up to the high ceilings. The art depicted landscapes you only had the pleasure of seeing in dreams. The room almost had a glow to it.

Or maybe it's the alcohol blurring my vision.

A voluptuous redhead walked through a set of doors to greet you. Her heels didn’t make a sound as she glided across the floor. Glancing at Randy, you caught him adjusting the front of his pants. Was he drooling? You found it amusing rather than let it upset you.

“Welcome to the Enchanted Valley where all your dreams come true. My name is Natalia. How may I help you this evening?”

“We’re getting married,” Randy answered, though he didn’t glance at you.

“Is that so?” she asked, tilting her head as she turned her attention to you. The gold from the walls sparkled in her eyes as she waited for your confirmation.

Swaying a little, you gave her a two finger salute. “That is so,” you answered before you added, “Do you also do annulments?”

Snorting, she gestured behind her. “Before we get started, you must be at least 18 years old, must not be currently married, must not be kin, and I’ll need to see a government form of identification. As long as that’s clear, you’re free to proceed with your ceremony. Do you have witnesses?"

“No ‘cause my bitchy friends didn’t come here. I don’t even have flowers,” you said, hiccuping a little. “Don’t tell them I call them that. I love them soooooooooo much.”

“That’s just fine. I’ll ask James and Wanda if they wouldn’t mind witnessing this…” Natalia tried to find the word as her eyes darted between you. “Blessed union.”

Randy followed Natalia like a lost puppy into the chapel as he struggled to get his wallet out. “You single?”

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head. “Why am I doing this?” you mumbled, swaying as you dug your wallet out. “Why didn’t I just get a tattoo or something?”

“Because a ring on your finger is easier to remove than ink on your skin.”

“Holy fucking… fuck,” you said as you looked up. “Where did you come from, you… gorgeous specimen?”

You understood why Randy practically eye-fucked Natalia since you were doing the same with the man in front of you. His steel blue eyes reflected the gold of the room the same way the redhead’s had and you were scared you’d fall into an abyss if you stared for too long. His light brown hair had to be the softest you’d ever seen. If you had to guess, he was at least 6’4” with a broad chest and shoulders and didn’t have the audacity to button up his shirt.

Is his left arm made out of gold? Or is it painted gold? How drunk am I? Would Randy object to me giving this god of a man the ride of his life?

“I’m James,” he said, the timbre of his voice causing your knees to wobble as he held up a bouquet of colorful flowers. “I’ll be one of the witnesses for this blessed union.”

“Nothing blessed about it. I don’t even know the guy. But he said he’d marry me and I said ‘fuck it,” you giggled, taking a step forward. Your shoe caught on nothing. Nothing. You just fell forward.

And the beautiful man caught you in his embrace.

“Careful, beautiful,” he said as he helped you stand upright and placed the flowers in your hand. His touch warmed you as he ran his hands along your bare arms. “You would marry a stranger then? With no friends or family here?”

“You smell really good. How do you smell so good?” You said, putting a hand on his chest with a grin. “Friends are busy and I have no family.”

His brows furrowed and you wondered how pathetic you sounded. You weren’t looking for pity. “Did he give you any token of affection?”

“Mmmmm. You know, he didn’t. We don’t have rings or anything.”

James traced a finger along your cheek. “And he dares to call himself a man,” he whispered, tutting when you leaned into his touch. “Doesn’t seem like he's fit to marry such a delectable creature.”

Eat me up, James.

“It’s okay,” you said, hoping the sad feelings of alcohol weren’t about to hit you. It sucked being alone and you knew you’d come to regret this later, but who cared about tonight? “Do you have gold streaks in your hair? Why are you so pretty? It’s like you’re not even REAL.”

“I’m very real, beautiful,” he smiled, flashing his pearly white teeth as your cheeks got hot. “Do I have the pleasure of knowing your full name?”

“My full name? So formal,” you teased, giving it to him without hesitation as you ran your fingers through his hair. You should’ve asked permission before touching his soft hair. You shouldn’t have touched him at all. But logic left your mind the moment you stepped into the city.

James closed his eyes as he repeated your name, making it sound erotic and sensual. You liked hearing it on his tongue. “You will not marry him,” he whispered, opening his eyes. A ring of gold surrounded his pupils before it went away. Maybe one of the girls slipped a little something into your drink to help you relax more.

Whatever it is, I want more of it.

“Tell you what,” you smiled, booping his nose with a giggle. “If you object with good reason, I won’t marry Randy Rando. Deal?”

James smirked after a moment, a darkness clouding his eyes as he stepped back to shake your hand. “Deal.”

Before you shook it, you noticed a gold ring on the floor by his foot. Did he drop it? “Is that yours?” you said, crouching down to grab it. It wasn’t very dignified how your dress rode up, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Here.”

He didn’t take it from you. “It is mine, but do you not wish to keep it?”

You frowned, confused as you glanced at the band. It had some sort of lettering around the solitaire diamond that you didn’t recognize. “This isn’t ‘finders keepers’. It’s yours. It’s nice, but it’s rude of me to take it.”

With a low hum, he accepted the ring back. “There aren’t many who would return something of value,” he said, slipping it on his right pinky finger. “You have a giving heart.”

“Oh, it… It was nothing,” you said, shrugging a little to hide how badly you wanted to preen at his compliment.

I’m really acting like I’ve never seen a good looking guy before.

He kept an intense gaze on you as he slipped a hand into his pants pocket and pulled out a small stone. It would’ve looked like a normal pebble if not for the gold speckles. “I know this may not look special, but would you take this as a token for giving my ring back?”

Whaaaaaaaat?

“Um. Yeah. Sure. Thanks,” you said, tucking the stone into your purse before you selected a flower from your bouquet. “Would you accept this from me?” you asked, wanting to do something nice.

A pleased look crossed his face as he took the flower and inhaled. Your head spun a little. Something felt different, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “Thank you,” he said, running his teeth along his bottom lip as he fixed the bottom of your dress. “You really are the most beautiful bride.”

“And you, James, you beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, god of a man, will make the hottest groom when you get married.”

“Hey!” Randy shouted from the chapel when James opened his mouth. “We doing this or what?”

Oh, yeah.

“Wish me luck!” you said, giggling as you went through the doors and not looking back to see if he followed. “Wow.”

It was as if you stepped into an enchanted forest. The colors of the room were lush and welcoming, a blend of evergreen and sage. Flickering fairy lights and flowers adorned the dark brown pues. Natalia stood in front of Randy and a slender woman you didn’t recognize sat on his side of the chapel. The lights were playing tricks on you again when she looked at you, her eyes a flash of red as she smiled.

That must be Wanda. And I’m never drinking again.

“Ready?” Randy questioned when you got to the end of the aisle.

How romantic.

“Yeah, I guess,” you shrugged, looping your arm with his as you held your bouquet. “Take it away, Natalia.”

“Dearly beloved,” she began.

Truthfully, you didn’t pay much attention to the ceremony as Natalia spoke. You didn’t question that she hadn’t looked at your identification card or confirmed anything else she named off. It probably wasn’t a real wedding ceremony. You weren’t going to be Mrs. Randy Rando.

Not when James is here. Wait, what?

“If there are no objections,” Natalia spoke, glancing over your shoulder. “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

“I object,” James announced behind you, making you cover your mouth as you giggled. He did say he’d object with good reason. You wondered what he’d come up with.

“On what grounds?” Natalia asked, smirking as if she expected him to interrupt.

“Because she’s my wife,” he answered.

What the hell did he just say?

“What?!” You laughed louder as you spun around, falling against Randy with wide eyes.

"What's wrong?" He asked, barely holding you upright.

James walked down the aisle toward you, a gold shine covering him from head to toe. Pointy ears stuck out through his hair and his eyes had a hypnotic glow as he smiled at you, his teeth sharper than before. He looked like a beautiful nightmare.

Ready to eat you up.

“You can see me as I really am, beautiful, can’t you?” He asked, a melodic lift in his tone that was both sinister and alluring. “Glamour doesn’t work on mates.”

...the fuck?

“M-Mates? We’re mates? What does that even mean?” You asked, looking at Randy for help. His eyes had a glossy glaze to them, like he wasn’t seeing you. Was he in shock? Did he know what was going on? “Dude, snap out of it. Look at his gold skin! And his pointy ears!”

“She can see you,” Natalia said with pride. “Congratulations, Bucky. You’re finally married.”

“Thank you, Natasha,” James smiled, waving a hand at Randy. His nails looked sharp enough to claw through his skin. “Get rid of him. He’s crowding my bride.”

“I’m… I’m way too drunk for this,” you mumbled, your knees giving out. With unnaturaul speed, he made his way to the end of the aisle and caught you.

“Hey! That’s my…” Randy looked confused as he blinked. “Well, she's not my girlfriend, but. Huh?”

“No, she isn’t your girlfriend. She’s my wife. And when you wake up tomorrow, you won’t remember being here,” he said, nodding over to Wanda. “I’d wipe your memory myself, but I’m not letting my mate go.”

“The fuck are you…” he trailed off when Wanda waved her hand, a ball of red light floating in front of his face.

“You sleep now,” she said as the light touched his forehead, not bothering to brace his fall as he collapsed.

“What the hell?” You slurred as Natalia grabbed his ankles to drag him out of the chapel, Wanda on her heel.

“I wouldn’t worry about him since you accepted my hand in marriage,” James said, touching your cheek with a fond smile. “I’m sorry for not courting you longer, but we didn’t exactly have much time, did we?”

“We’re not married,” you argued.

“By Fae law, we are,” he explained as your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. Did he say Fae? “You returned something of value to me that I dropped, which was you saying ‘yes’ to my marriage proposal.”

“No,” you whispered. That couldn’t be true.

“You accepted my token of my affection, which was me pledging myself as your husband. And you gave me a token of affection in return, which was you pledging yourself as my wife.”

The stone. The flower. No. Fucking. Way.

“I don’t understand,” you whimpered as he propped you up in his arms.

“I wanted a bride, so I came here. You’d be surprised how much of my kind has infiltrated this city. We do love our realm, but your people are so easy to manipulate,” he said, gesturing to the room. “Gambling, drinking, strippers, quick weddings. You just throw your hard-earned money away like it’s meaningless. Your currency goes a long way where I’m from.”

“I want to go home,” you said as he tightened his hold on you, even stronger than he looked.

“You didn’t see me at the bar tonight, but I saw you. I knew you were destined for me,” he continued happily as if you didn’t say anything. “And when he suggested marrying you on a whim, I made sure your friends didn’t try to stop you and that your path led here. Don't worry. They're safe. I wouldn't harm them.”

Who is he? What is he?

You shook your head, surprised that you hadn’t gotten sick from how your stomach turned. “I’m not your wife,” you said, trembling when his entire body began to glow.

“You are not just my wife. You are my queen. Even if you hadn’t accepted my token of affection, I wouldn’t have let you marry someone whose name wasn’t worth remembering. You’re mine,” he said through his teeth, angry at you denying him before he took a breath. “My poor bride. A woman with no family and friends who don’t look out for her. You have me now. And you’ll be happy by my side.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping by some miracle a bit of pain would wake you up. But the creature who called himself your husband wasn’t going away. “This is a bad dream,” you whispered, as if lying to yourself would help.

“Oh, my love,” he said in false comfort. “There are no bad dreams in the Enchanted Valley. And this isn’t the Vegas you know where you can simply write this off as a mistake. There is no divorce in my world. Well, your world now.”

“James, please,” you begged as your heart pounded.

“We’re married now, beautiful. Call me Bucky,” he smiled, smothering your protest with a kiss. Heat spread along your lips and flowed through your veins, wrapping around your heart like a vice. It was enough to suffocate you, but fate wasn’t ready to claim your life yet. “Now sober up. We have a honeymoon to start.”

I couldn't tag Bucky as "fae" without giving some of the surprise away! This idea was inspired by @adayka's beautiful art here. Maybe we can revisit this new couple down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x female!reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan #james buchanan barnes x reader

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lulu-nightbon · 1 year ago

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alright, i... didn't want to do this. i didn't want to have to do this. especially with all the hate ive been getting in my inbox recently. but i don't have a choice.

hi. im lulu. im a 21-year-old autistic immunocompromised queer person. i currently live with my mother (senior) and my little sister (10 years old). i need your help to get out.

(context and avenues to help below the cut)

as some of you may know, my stepfather died on august sixth from a heart attack. we lived in his parents basement, as it was all we could afford, and we depended on his income. he had a stable job, and mom decided to become a housewife and sell some things from the buisness they created together. when he died, the buisness was dissolved, as it was an llc partnership. his parents are extremely controlling, and as such, he was only able to finally start building up credit when mom came along, and we were almost at the point where he could qualify for a home loan so we could get out and get away from his parents.

that's gone now.

mom cannot qualify for a home loan because of her student loan payments and the credit card payments. we do not have the money to pay these off, and mom is trying desperately to get a job. we need the money to get out, as my stepfather's parents have been trying to get my sister away from my mom and shove both her and i out of the family for years. things are only getting worse now as we have reason to believe they are spying on our conversations and even going so far as tracking us (for example, they found a spare key to the car and went and took it and "cleaned it out" without mom's knowledge or permission, as it's her car now). they have been trying to circumvent mom and go behind her back during the entire process with the funeral home, coroner's office, all the legal documentation, and they are extremely infuriated that they cannot decide anything or push mom out because they are not the next of kin and have been trying to circumvent this. we have reason to believe that they're going to attempt to sell the cars that are still in my stepfather's name to collect on the money and never give us a dime, like they had with almost all of the money my little sister received as part of the college fund we set up at my stepfather's funeral as well as any money that my little sister had won in the past. we will never see a dime of it, and it's extremely upsetting that they are doing this. they have been running scams for years, and they have been nothing but hellish towards my mother, claiming she's withholding information from them when she has offered more than they've asked for and they have done nothing but take my little sister out and about without ever telling mom anything (for example- they screamed that mom was withholding information when she said she didn't copy the tox report for them because it was empty and claimed they needed to know his cholesterol levels [which doesn't even show up on a tox report- they didn't run his blood, either, and they didn't check his cholesterol levels anyway because they know that's what killed him, they could see it] and would not provide reasoning why [it does not affect them anyway just by nature of it being cholesterol], while on sunday they took my little sister out the whole day and failed to communicate with my mother that she would be with them and would be home after dinner).

they have been screaming at mom for collecting social security as though she was stealing their money and demanded that she doesn't get a job, and we have more than enough reason to believe that they are trying to get her to default on the bills so they finally have legal grounds to take my little sister and kick us out, leaving us with nowhere to go and no options. they have even gone as far as to threaten to take my sister away using force in the past, and, as they have firearms, that is a terrifying threat. they are unhinged and extremely upset that they cannot control us and make us do what they want, how they want, when they want, and they are up in arms over it.

when we move out, all hell is going to break loose, but the longer we wait, the worse it's going to get.

my stepfather, being 37 when he died, did not like thinking about his own mortality, so he didn't have a life insurance policy, a 401K, a will, nothing. we have been left high and dry by his death, and that is pushing aside the grief. we do not have the money to pay off the bills, pay for a lawyer, pay to have the car re-keyed to keep them from stealing it again, or to even flat-out buy a house to circumvent needing a loan, and on top of it all we have to deal with stepfather's parents not allowing us to grieve and implying that mom is a tramp and a heartless bitch that will blow any money given to her when she is more financially responsible than them. we also have to worry about them stealing our things, especially with how much they complain about how messy the basement is when most of the things here are theirs (stepfather's parents are hoarders- more specifically, his father hoards cars, and his mother hoards everything else, going out and shopping frivolously almost every day).

we need help with money, and i hate to ask, especially with the requirement of revealing my legal name and in light of the harassment i have been receiving for over a month now, but we need to get out of here, and we need to get out of here soon. it's only going to get worse the longer we stay. we need money to help with the bills, my mom's student loans, getting a lawyer, and getting a place to move into.

im posting this because im the only one my stepfather's parents won't find on any platform that i choose to use. my current goal is $9,000 USD, if only just to get enough money to get a cheap plot of land to move into, or one of the really cheap houses out here. this won't cover the loans or bills in addition, or the cost of getting a lawyer or anything else we need, but it is enough to get us a cheap place to live. i know it's a lot of money, but we are in a dangerous situation and need the money to escape. if we were to pay for everything, the goal would be in the hundreds of thousands, and i feel horrible just asking for this much. if you can't donate, please reblog, even the visibility might help and please do not spread my legal name. please remember to put "payment" or something generic in the reasoning box if it's required so that i will actually receive the funds instead of having my account purged from the site. i didn't want to ask for this, but i have no other options. please help.

c*sh*pp: $lulunightbon

v*nm*: @Lulilial

Goal: $0/$9,000

#im sorry #i don't know what else to do #please forgive me for this if you ever can #financial aid #autistic #trans

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

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I have fallen deep down the mortal kombat rabbit hole and I have no intention of climbing out. Could you possibly write a smoke x reader where she can sense that Bi-Han will betray them before the mission the brothers go on and she and smoke get in a big fight about it. When they reunite she isn't even angry about the fight at seeing how heartbroken he is? Just lots of fluff at the end. You're amazing!

Needless to say you never trust Bi-Han, you couldn’t explain why but you just couldn’t bring yourself to trust the guy. The ice cold man always looked as though he was on the verge of betraying his own kin if it meant ascending himself and the Lin Kuei to a higher position of power. Bi-Han was always a condescending fucker in your eyes, who took great pleasure in reminding Tomas that his blood wasn’t ever Lin Kuei on a consistent basis; A statement of which you found as stupid as it was harmful.

Ounce upon a time Tomas looked up to Bi-Han but upon realising that the cryomancer wanted nothing to do with him, never less ever return the gesture, Tomas would then look for what he wanted from Bi-Han in Kuai Liang instead. Now Kuai Liang on the other hand was nothing like his brother, he was warm in not only abilities but in personality also. The best way you could go about describing Kuai Liang was that he was akin to that of a cozy fireplace, one where you could comfortably cuddled up with a loved one when cold and in need of respite.

You were happy that Tomas had finally came to his senses and -in your opinion- began looking up to the better brother, seeing as how Kuai Liang didn’t hesitate in treating Tomas as though he was his own flesh and blood, even going so far as to openly remind him that despite not actually being blood related; he was still his brother through and through. You could easily tell that was what Tomas had always wanted to hear come from Bi-Han’s mouth just from the way his eyes glossed over, as though he were on the verge of crying and the way he tried to fight back a wide smile, for Kuai Liang had single-handedly put to rest every insecurity that had burdened him since being taken into the Lin Kuei.

And you couldn’t be happier for him and be eternally grateful for Kuai Liang for doing what Bi-Han actively chose not to out of pride and self righteousness.

So when Tomas had informed you that him and his brothers were setting off to stop Shang Tsung, you felt a sense of unease overcome you, an itch you couldn’t scratch. They may leave as brothers but you had a gut feeling that only two would come back, broken by inevitable betrayal. Naturally you wanted to warn both Tomas and Kuai Liang about your assumption without Bi-Han nearby to eavesdrop, firmly believing the cryomancer to have all the plausible motivators for deception; After all he thinks that the Lin Kuei has become a ghost of it’s former self, a subservient laughing stock and wanted nothing more then to restore it’s rightful purpose, even if that meant betraying all he had been raised to uphold.

Without sparing a single second, you rushed to Tomas as to warn him, only for him to believe that you were instead spreading lies.

‘You think Bi-Han is going to betray myself and Kuai Liang?!’ Tomas asked in disbelief. ‘I can’t exactly put me trust in your assumptions when he has never shown signs of ever betraying us, betraying tradition.’ Apparently Tomas’ loyalty to his brothers knew no bounds, even if one of them in particular had treated him like shit throughout his entire life. It truly baffled you as to why he bothered defending a man who’d feed him to the wolves at any given moment. ‘Then signs all point towards him throwing away the values, upon which the Lin Kuei were founded upon by your father.’ You deliberately pointed out to him.

‘So of course i would firmly put trust into my own assumptions because they’ve never once proven me wrong, Tomas. Bi-Han can and will betray you and Kuai Liang.’ You finished but upon seeing his unchanging stance, you knew that your rebuttal was getting nowhere through to Tomas. It hurt not having him believe you, not even a little bit, but you had to keep trying and make him see reason, so you continued. ‘Bi-Han is growing ambitious and is more than willing to forsake tradition for a shot at gaining power, just so that the Lin Kuei may never be under anyone’s foot ever again. Don’t you see Tomas?’ You stepped towards him, watching his every expression morph into one of anger, hurt and denial. He knew you were right but was just too scared to admit that such a thing could be possible.

‘Under Bi-Han’s rule the Lin Kuei will be seen as a threat. He’ll become a tyrant of his own making.’ You were just about to place your hands upon his arms when Tomas took a step back, retching himself from your grasp, causing the hurt to strike itself even further into your heart.

‘You know nothing about my brother.’ Tomas snapped, something he very rarely did. ‘So don’t go pretending that you know him better then I do, like you know his character and then go and boldly accuse him of high treason just because you had a hunch. I’d much rather prefer you admit that you disliked Bi-Han and left it at that.’ Tomas then looked at you with utter disgust before showing you his back. ‘But I guess that too much of a tall ask. I’m going on that mission, and when I get back I don’t want you waiting for me, I want you gone.’ He said before then making his exit out the room, leaving you no opportunity to speak as you then collapsed onto the floor, placing your hand where your heart lied within you; desperate to stop it from shattering as you silently wept.

‘I’m sorry Tomas but I am not leaving until til I know you’re okay.’ You whispered before leaving the room yourself and headed off to bed to sleep the away the disaster that had been today…

‘You we’re right. Bi-Han betrayed us. Kuai Liang confined in me that he even admitted to willingly letting our father die.’ Tomas was happy that you didn’t actually leave, he knew you wouldn’t but some part of him had thought that you would’ve tempted the idea, given how horrid he had treated you. He wouldn’t even blame you if he had came back to a cold and empty home, he truly didn’t deserve you, not even a little bit. If he could go back and smack some sense into himself and tell him to put more faith in you and your words he would, but he guessed that was the whole point to life. ‘I’m sorry.’ Tomas said as he looked towards you with his sad puppy eyes. ‘I should’ve listened to you but instead i dismissed you and said some things that you should never say to a loved one. There’s no excuse for how I acted but I can only hope that in due time you’ll come to forgive me.’

Whilst furious as you were that he didn’t listen, you couldn’t bring yourself to express your disappointment, you did not want to kick him when he’s already down. ‘It’s nice of you to acknowledge when you’re wrong, but i must admit that I too am sorry for the way I acted during our fight.’ Tomas furrowed his brows as he placed one of his hands onto yours, squeezing it. ‘What do you mean? Everything you’ve said about Bi-Han was proven true. He was an ambitious tyrant who was biding his time to show his true colours.’ He then sighed, bowing his head before muttering under his breath. ‘He even gave Kuai Liang a scar as a reminder of his deceit.’ The way the words left his mouth, so full of venom and unbridled anger was enough to tell you that Tomas felt partially responsible for Bi-Han’s betrayal.

Even though he wasn’t here to torment him, Bi-Han still found a way to get inside Tomas’ head and you fucking hated it. However you managed to kept yourself composed for this wasn’t about you, but instead about Tomas and comforting him. ‘You didn’t know any better and you were defending your brother like any good sibling should.’ You told him, grasping onto his hand tightly. ‘Admittedly I had crossed the line, forgetting how closely you held Kuai Liang and Bi-Han to your chest. They’re your family and I went ahead and insulted that, all because I had grown worried for you and Kuai Liang. So much so that I had forgotten that Bi-Han is your brother too.’

‘Was.’

You looked at Tomas, who was staring straight forwards now. ‘Bi-Han was my brother but not anymore.’

‘You don’t mean that Tomas.’ You uttered softly, reaching a free hand out to grasp the side of his face and gently guided his head so that he was looking at you. ‘I do’ he told you, tired eyes looking deep into your own. ‘For all I’m aware Bi-Han is dead to me. I don’t understand why he would do such a thing, why he would betray tradition, betray us, his own brothers!’ At this point Tomas had begun sobbing and without missing a beat, you held him tightly into your chest as his strong arms held you in place, holding on ever tighter despite your hushed whispers of never leaving him. You continued to stroke his hair as his voice- while muffled- kept saying things along the lines of, ‘Why?’ Or ‘Why did you do it Bi-Han?’ Yet the longer this continued for the more you heard things along the lines of, ‘Was it something I did?’ But the one that broke your heart the most was; ‘Was I not a good enough brother for you?’

You remained silent through it all, only wanting for Tomas to release everything that had had been wanting to say to Bi-Han for a very long time. You even pressed a couple of kisses to his hair as to remind him that you were with him no matter how rough the road ahead looked. You didn’t care whether you had fights in the future because that was a natural part of life, you’re not always going to get along or stay in the honeymoon period forever; you’re both humans who had flaws, how had tempers, who had moments of weakness and vulnerability but that’s the beauty of being human. You may wish to take away all of Tomas’ pain but you also come to realise that he must experience pain to overcome it.

Which he would, you thought to yourself as you continued to soothingly rub his broad back, kiss his face and head whilst whispering words of comfort into his ear as his arms continued to tighten their hold on your waist, afraid that you might disappear on him. ‘I’m not going anywhere Tomas, not now, not ever.’ You reminded him as he pulled his head away from your chest, red eyed and with tear streaked cheeks.

‘You mean that?’ He croaked, desperate to hear you say that you’ll never leave him, he needed you in his time of need, he quite literally needed you to properly function at this point.

‘Yes.’ You replied without an ounce of hesitation before pressing your head up against his, feeling his uneven breaths brush against your face. ‘You’re safe with me Tomas. I promise, we’ll get our revenge on Bi-Han for all that he has done to you and Kuai Liang, his deeds won’t go unpunished.’

‘I love you.’ Tomas said sweetly, making you smile for the first time that night.

‘I love you too Tomas.’ You replied in kind, watching as his face visibly relaxed from your words, his eyes fluttered shut as a small smile graced his lips. For a man who had been crying just moments earlier, he sure as hell looked ethereal in his brief happiness. Now if only you could make that happiness last for a lifetime.

#mk1 #mk x y/n #mk imagine #mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat imagines #tomas vrbada x y/n #tomas vrbada x you #tomas vrbada imagine #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x reader

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bumblepony · 23 days ago

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Birthday Fic Recs!

So it's my birthday, y'all, and on this momentous day, I want to share my favorite fics from all my favorite authors and friends in this amazing fandom! Because you all are such wonderful people, and you've all inspired me to become a better writer, and I can't thank you all enough. So here is my list in no particular order. Some of these may be duplicates of fics I've recommended in the past, if so roll with it because I'm always happy to share amazing stuff again.

i know you by heart by @sixhours - Joel and Ellie settle into their new lives in Jackson but it's not the easiest transition. Thankfully Jackson has a counselor to help with that. AKA the gay TLOU/Prospect crossover you didn't know you needed.

A woman is a changeling by @treadlightlymydarlinggirl - (Tess lives) and what happens after!

back and forth, up and down by @lauronk - (more times ellie & joel barely missed each other in the qz)

our hearts are heavy burdens (we shouldn't have to bear alone) by @ameerawrites - Maria and Tommy's engagement story, a prequel to "Not Alone"

Fortunate Son - Maria Sinclair agrees to help Tommy Miller, a probationary resident at Jackson, with a life-changing opportunity.

Next of Kin by @probssomethingorother - The day Joel becomes a dad and how he deals with the sudden weight of fatherhood. Slight canon divergence where his wife dies instead of leaving. Big whumps ahead.

Mary Poppins ain't got nothing on me by @barlowstreet - Tommy POV again! This time, he's watching Ellie while Joel has surgery. Ellie is not fond of this plan.

collaborators by @becomethesun - Sam and Henry live. Adventures and found family bonding ensue on the journey from Kansas City to Jackson and beyond.

What Would Your Superpower Be? by blue_calico on AO3 -

A woman is a changeling by @treadlightlymydarlinggirl - (Tess lives) and what happens after!

back and forth, up and down by @lauronk - (more times ellie & joel barely missed each other in the qz)

our hearts are heavy burdens (we shouldn't have to bear alone) by @ameerawrites - Maria and Tommy's engagement story, a prequel to "Not Alone"

Fortunate Son - Maria Sinclair agrees to help Tommy Miller, a probationary resident at Jackson, with a life-changing opportunity.

Mary Poppins ain't got nothing on me by @barlowstreet - Tommy POV again! This time, he's watching Ellie while Joel has surgery. Ellie is not fond of this plan.

collaborators by @becomethesun - Sam and Henry live. Adventures and found family bonding ensue on the journey from Kansas City to Jackson and beyond.

What Would Your Superpower Be? by blue_calico on AO3 - With a storm taking its toll on Ellie as they pass through Indiana, Joel reluctantly lets them stay with a family who stirs up pain he's tried hard to bury. Still, he knows how to be a good dad. He just can't yet see it.

Lost in the Woods by @cardigains - How digging up what's buried in the past brings about consequences in the present. (The Private Investigator!AU nobody asked for.) (I did! I asked for it! I'm here for it!)

Right Where We Belong by cauldron_zeta on AO3 - Frank has upheaved his life to move to almost the middle of nowhere. His closest neighbour isn't really a people person but Frank has always liked a challenge.

just babes being dudes and flat on my face then back in the race and my cow, your cow, our cow by @ciaconnaa - Sorry this are all amazing and I just could not pick which one was my favorite!

Mute Joel by @captainredspade - An Ellie and Joel drabble that may or may not turn to something more in the future. It's based off the au idea of Joel being mute, and if he and Ellie met a different way than they did in canon.

Compassionate Friends by @mildredellie - Ellie & Joel meet at a grief support group they were both forced to attend.

cosmic oddities by @deervsheadlights - Turning a clan of two into a clan of four and asking the very important, albeit unhinged question: What if space dad and apocalypse dad were Weird About Each Other?

Taste your beating heart by @finnelfin - Tess's traveling companions are keeping secrets.

in search of some hope by @dancingonmoonbeams - Tommy’s story, from leaving Boston to finding Jackson to him and Joel finding each other again.

show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time by @eedsknees - Cry to the Chest (featuring Ellie with endometriosis trying to ignore her pain until she can't anymore!)

Mother by @liveandletcry23 - The Millers have a demon problem

expect(ing)(ations) by @penandinkprincess - (set about ten years after the original storyline) (ellie, now grown and married, decides she wants to have a baby so she can pass her immunity on to her kid)

Dinosaur by @femmefacetious - Joel and Ellie deal with some stupid cold temperatures and assorted shenanigans (the not-fun kind) in and around the town of...Dinosaur, CO.

we could walk forever, walkin' on the moon and what matters most by @boopernatural - I had to pick both because they are some of my favorites!

For Your Entertainment by @manicparadox - A strip club AU. Bill and Frank meet at The Bou-Peek where Frank is a stripper.

Future Proof by Capricordinary on AO3 - Joel is somehow transported into the past. he makes it his mission to find four year old Ellie, reunite his family and find a safe place for them in the Wyoming wilderness

Most Likely Occupation by joschmo on AO3 - Joel is a single dad working long hours in a difficult, painful occupation. He does what he needs to do to keep going, or at least that's what he tells himself. After the outbreak, things...escalate.

ily, imu, im sry (i love you, i miss you, im sorry) by @mariatesstruther - in which joel and tess haven't spoken for ten years, but are reintroduced for their daughters’ english project. sarah and ellie misinterpret the situation quite a bit.

To Have Loved Someone by Joels_revolver on AO3 - Ellie is stuck in a modern Jackson now and neither she nor Joel have any idea how to get her back. Ellie has no choice but to confront her demons, and Joel— Well, he has a few demons of his own to deal with.

dodors (and other birds) by @ketchupchipsaregross - How Tess and Joel accidentally restarted parenting in their 40s.

let all your damage damage me by @electricbluebutterflies - Assorted prompt fills and shorter ficlets, generally unconnected and variable ratings. Tess/Joel.

Of Artists and Architects by @emilylawsons - A Cordyceps-Free Tessjoel AU

creature fear by @marceltheshellwithflipflopson - The first time Joel protects Sarah from an infected, it changes his life forever. The first time Joel protects Ellie from an infected, it feels just like it did twenty years ago. Even if he swears up and down that the kid is just cargo.

I have to break this up. It's too big. So look for the next one in a little bit.

#tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #ellie williams #tommy miller #tess servopoulos #maria miller #ao3 #birthday

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livlaughloveluke · 9 months ago

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Reader getting neglected by her mom Hera bc she was a mistake? And Luke convincing her to join him and in the end she does- or she doesn't bc she is still loyal to Hera and Luke leaves her because of itt

ᡣ𐭩 𝗴𝗼𝗱𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘀

luke castellan x daughter of hera! reader 🦚

IN WHICH.. basically just the request

warning! this fic contains- use of y/n // few curse words // female reader // spoilers for tlt // heart wrenching angst

[a/n]- a lot of lines inspired by the last episode of the good place (literally my favorite show) and a line from the song “anything” used

🎧- goddess by laufey

2.3k

You were a mistake.

There was no alternative way to phrase it, at least not in the eyes of your godly mother, Hera. You were conceived in a fit of jealousy; your mom wanted to get petty revenge on Zeus for some clueless error he made. And so, within the blink of an eye, she transformed into a mere mortal and seduced a random man, otherwise known as your father.

When you stumbled into camp, bruised and bloody from a Cyclops attack, not a soul expected you to be the malicious goddess's daughter. Hera was loyal to her husband, even claiming multiple times that she forebode affairs, only allowing Zeus to commit the unfaithful acts. However, while she may have been the goddess of marriage, her extreme jealousy overpowered them all.

Which is why she detested you. You were a symbol of her errors, a constant reminder of her regretful affair.

You had a total of two interactions with her, the first one being her claiming of you and the second one being a spiel about how she resented and wanted absolutely nothing to do with a ‘disgrace.’

She was the reason you were so alone your whole life. There were no siblings to talk with, no mom to spend time with, and no father who could actively be present. In fact, the cabin hadn’t even been furnished when you arrived; no one thought your mother would commit infidelity.

With no bed to sleep in, at least until the one Mr. D ordered online arrived, you stayed in the Hermes cabin, a place welcoming to all. You were fourteen when you met Luke Castellan, who had already been claimed by his father and who generously made you feel included. He stayed up with you on those late nights, helping to calm you while you vented about your neglectful mother, and he saved you a spot at the picnic tables when no one else would.

From that point on, you and Luke had formed an incredible relationship. Even after you moved back into Cabin 2, you remained close friends. Seeing that you were the only daughter of Hera, you joined Cabin 11 for the daily activities, which only amplified your connection with the boy. Eventually, with the help of your friends, Chris and Clarisse, Luke worked up the courage to ask you out. You happily obliged, and ever since then, you have been dating.

Four years later, your bond with the boy was admired by nearly all. The two of you were a symbol of hope—that even in the pandemonium of demigod life, you could find love. As you grew into young adulthood, you became a profound woman, one with elegance and kindness, despite the hauntings of your past.

With Luke by your side, you began to love the simple joys life provided. You cared for the campers like your own kin, in hopes of providing the external fondness you were never granted as a child.

You and Annabeth became as close as ever, bonding over the experiences Camp Half-Blood provided. Her flawless skills in battle proved she didn’t need any protection, and yet you were always there to guard her from the dangers life presented. While Annabeth was reticent to most, after many weeks of being friends, she opened up to you.

You had that welcoming effect on nearly everyone, helping arrivals settle into their chaotic lifestyle. Which is how you ended up being chosen to complete a treacherous quest along with the new camper Percy, the satyr Grover, and your honorary little sister, Annabeth.

After packing the evening before departure, you headed to say goodbye to Luke. You both knew that the trip would be dangerous, with a chance you wouldn’t return, so you decided to relish in each other’s presence by the lake, just in case.

He sat on the dock while you lay in his lap, gently stroking your scalp as you watched the sun set and paint bright colors atop the sky.

“I’m gonna miss you.” You spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence.

“It’s only ten days. I went fourteen years without you; I can manage a week.” He said, smiling softly while looking down at you.

“Yeah. Ten days is nothing. I’d wait a hundred years for you.” You agreed, mirroring his expression. While you chatted, the colorful sky eventually faded into a deep blue, signaling that your time by the lake was coming to an end.

“Cmon, everyone’s asleep by now.“ He alerted you, standing up and offering you a hand. You accepted, interlocking your fingers and walking back to the cabins.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” You pondered as you strolled to Hera’s cabin. Sure, it was against the rules, but you just wanted to spend the last night with him. And what’s the worst you could do while surrounded by twenty other children?

“Course. The campers owe me a favor since I took them to the lake last Friday, so they won’t snitch.” Luke replied, changing course to the Hermes cabin.

Sleep came easy that night as you laid on Luke’s chest while his hands rested on your waist. Leaving the next morning was hard, but with the words from last night still present in your mind, you left with a smile.

The mission was nearly impossible, with monsters chasing you around every corner. After traveling to (literally) hell and back, you finally arrived back at camp.

Campers lined up cheering; a whole festival was planned for the victory brought by Percy. While most would miss the warm, safe beds in the cabins or the hot showers, you only craved one thing: your boyfriend. One short Iris message during your trip wasn’t enough. You wanted to listen to him blink, to listen to his hands soothe, to listen to his heart beating.

And so, within minutes of your arrival, you had found yourself embraced in Luke’s arms. All of your worries pertaining to the Lightning Thief faded away as you ran your fingers through his curls, your knees practically buckling at the sight of him.

“I missed you.” You whispered into his ear, swaying side to side as you hugged him.

“I missed you too. Camp hasn’t been the same.”

“I’m here now. We have all the time we need.”

“There’s too many people around. I found a new spot in the woods if you want to join me, and we can talk about the quest.” He spoke softly, his tone honey-sweet.

“Lead the way, Castellan.”

And so he dragged you deep into the secluded woods, the final location remaining a mystery as you hiked through hundreds of tall trees. The walk was suspiciously long, but with him, time seemed to fade away, and you grew blind to the flaming red flags.

Finally, you reached a clearing, surrounded by luscious greens. You both sat down, leaning your head on his shoulder as you glanced up at the stars. He was silent most of the journey to this unusual destination, just listening to you babble on about everything that happened during your time apart. And his nonverbal attitude didn’t disappear as you sat down, but this time you joined him in the comforting silence while staring up at the stars.

Gazing at him through the moonlight, you watched as his deep brown eyes lit up with a feeling you couldn’t determine. Curious, you queried what roamed his mind. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“I’m-“ he let out an angry sigh, pausing to gain composure. “I’m tired of the gods treating us like shit and getting away with it.” His indignant behavior staggered you, but Luke was prone to these fits of loathing after speaking to his neglectful father, so you assumed that’s what caused his wrath tonight.

“I know, and I’m sorry. Rough interaction with your dad again?” You tried to ration, hoping to calm his resentment, but instead it seemed to irritate him more. His jaw clenched with fury as he snapped at you.

“Why are you apologizing? Don’t defend the gods. They’re ruthless idiots who won’t even spare a glance in your direction.”

His cruel words made you question everything, praying this was just a dumb prank or something not as serious as he was letting on. Quietly, you asked what he meant. “What are you.. What are you saying?”

After a long pause, he looked away from you and spoke up. “I want you to join me. To join Kronos.”

Your heart sank upon his confession, and you scooted away from him frantically, standing up and trying to brace yourself for whatever he was going to do next. He lifted himself off the ground after you, taking a baby step closer.

“Kronos? You’re joking, right? Luke, please tell me you’re joking.”

You made eye contact with him, realizing that the mysterious tint in his eyes was now readable. It was hatred, pure evil.

“No. I can’t stand to watch them carelessly prance around while their children suffer. I’m standing against them, and I want you to be by my side.”

You grew vexed and infuriated that he was ruining your years-long relationship for some stupid dream. “Are you kidding me? I’m not joining you.” You snarled.

“You’re choosing them? Over me? You’re choosing your mother, who has ignored you your entire life, instead of me. Instead of us?” He growled, approaching you as you trudged backwards. For the first time in your life, you were scared of Luke. Scared of the man you loved.

“I’m choosing my friends at Camp Half-Blood. My family. What about Annabeth? And Percy? Do they know?” Thoughts of Annabeth finding out one of her closest friends was a traitor flooded your brain, hurting you more than Luke’s words ever could.

“No, not yet, at least. Why won’t you stand up for what’s right?”

“You’re starting an unwinnable war here. Tell me, do you really think you could overpower them?” You replied, fuming with anger towards him and the gods, too. And if we’re being honest, you were mad at yourself, too. Mad at yourself for still loving him even though he was hurting you.

“I will overpower them. With or without you.”

“You're—you're really leaving?” You questioned, and the rage dissipated.

“I have to.” He demanded, looking down at his feet while clenching his eyes shut.

A wave of memories washed over you, and suddenly, you didn’t want him to go. You wanted the boy who picked you the freshest of flowers—the boy who came knocking on your bedroom door at night, just wanting to chat.

“Please, Luke. We can forget all about this and go back to living our lives.” You pleaded, your bottom lip quivering as you fought back sobbing.

“It’s too late now. I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N.”

“Please don’t leave. I was alone my whole life before you, and I told myself I liked it that way, but I don’t. I don’t want to live a life without you. I can’t.” You choked out through mangled sobs, and his demeanor shifted to one of guilt.

“I’m sorry, but it has to be this way. And I can’t let you leave here and spoil my plans before they even start.”

The air became thick as he finished his sentence, and your tears subsided, freight replacing the sadness that lingered deep in your heart.

“What does that mean?” You entreated. Was he going to kill you?

“I love you. Maybe in another universe we can be together.” He said this, fleeting into the shadows.

“Wait! Luke, you can’t just leave me here!” You yelled, attempting to run after him, but he was nowhere to be found. You stood alone in the darkness of the woods, with no clue as to how to escape the woods.

Every fragment in your body was telling you to give up, to let go, and to sob. To silence out the cruel world and lay on the earth floor, to wait for your impending death, from the freezing cold temperatures or one of the hungry monsters that lurked in the night. But the thought of Luke getting away with this and letting him escape untouched fueled you. You hiked out of the path you came from, praying you could get back to camp alive.

Eventually, you met the forest ends, stepping foot into a camp that was blissfully unaware of Hermes’ boy’s plan. You shoved through crowds of partying teens, eager to find Annabeth and Percy and warn them.

After searching through every crook, you spotted them talking to Chiron. The look of concealed misery on the young girl’s face told you everything. Luke had already visited.

You were grateful the two preteens were even alive, but you know how hard this was. They were only kids, not deserving to experience such heartbreak at a mere twelve years old.

Running up to Annabeth, you wrapped her in a comforting, empathy-filled embrace. Her muscles tensed up at first before accepting the hug and leaning in.

“I’m so sorry.” You muttered into her ears as she sighed. Pulling apart to read her emotions, you asked a simple question. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She murmured unconvincingly.

“Promise?”

“Swear.” Annabeth replied.

“And you promise you’ll come talk to me if you’re not?” You asked again.

“Promise.”

You smiled for the first time in hours, basking in the warmth of your family.

“Is he... gone?” You whispered to her, and it didn’t take an Athena kid to understand who you were talking about.

“Yeah. He escaped through a portal.”

“Oh.” Was all you could reply, trying to shield the way your heart shattered.

“I’m sorry.” Annabeth said, looking into your glossy eyes.

“It’s okay. I’ll tell you everything later, but I’m just going to go to bed for now.”

You left, tears pouring down as you lightly jogged to the Hermes cabin. Slipping off your shoes, you plopped down onto Luke’s bed and sobbed.

His cheap cologne mixed with the citrusy shampoo he used lingered in the hot air, and for a moment, it was like he was still with you.

୨୧

MASTERLISTS 𓏲𝄢 REQUEST / TALK TO ME 𓏲𝄢 RULES

#luke castellan #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #hera #liv’s writing !

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