#star wars ground battle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daydreaming-nerd · 2 months

Text

Implode (Azriel X Female! Reader)

Summary: You were an anomaly. 300 years ago you fell from the sky, a star personified, taking the form of a High Fae. When Rhysand found you and realized your power you became a part of his inner circle. It wasn’t until years later that you realized that his spymaster was your mate. Still the question lingered in your mind leaving you never fully satisfied, “Why am I here?” Perhaps the losing battle with Hybern would answer that.

A/N: Just thought I would take some time and get some Azriel on the masterlist! And hey look I wrote something where they don’t suck and fuck. But don’t get used to it, as a scorpio it ain’t really my style.

Warnings: Heavy angst, alludes to smut (you knew there was gonna be a lil somethin it’s Azriel for christ sake), blood, I wrote this in the middle of the night so probably grammar mistakes

Words count: 4646

(All pictures are from pinterest)

The war with Hybern was an ongoing one, and one that’s been hundreds of years in the making. So far the Night Court had yet to engage but I could feel Rhysand growing restless. Velaris was safe, but for how much longer? A few months ago he talked about taking the fight to Hybern, sooner rather than later, in order to try and protect his civilians. As his third in command I agreed with him.

I became Rhysand’s third in command several years ago after finally earning his trust. I wasn’t always part of his beloved inner circle, in fact when I fell from the sky I spent the first month on Prythian in the Hewn City dungeons. Rhys wanted to know why I had fallen into his court, but the truth was I didn’t know. The only memory I had was an image of the night sky, followed by falling, and then Azriel found me in the grass. Of course this wasn’t a good enough answer for the High Lord but after Rhysand finally realized that I was telling the truth about where I was from. We spent the next several years trying to figure out how it could be but found nothing.

Nevertheless I grew to love Velaris and the place I now called home. I loved late night drinks with Mor, decorating the townhouse with Cassian for Solstice, talking politics with Rhysand, teasing the others with Amren, but most of all I loved Azriel.

Even though Azriel was the one who found me, the bond didn’t snap into place right away. I had always had an affinity for the Illyrian, and even though I was once a non-sentient being, I knew that by all standards he was gorgeous. He seemed to have the same attraction to me as well, though we never acted on it. It wasn’t until a drunken night at Rita’s about 100 years after he found me that we realized we were mates.

The inner circle had gotten together for dinner, and dinner had turned into a couple bottles of wine and a couple turned into way too many. Azriel and I had been throwing flirty glances back and forth all night, finally having the liquid courage to do so. I ended up being the first to leave that night and of course Azriel offered to fly me home…

“There is no way you’re walking home, not in those shoes,” Azriel laughed.

“What’s the matter with my shoes?” I protest swigging the last sip of my wine.

“You’re gonna bust your ass starchild,” Cassian said using my nickname he gave me years ago.

“I most certainly am not!” I slur. I go to stand up from the booth to prove my point and nearly topple over causing the table to shift and Mor to spill some of her wine. The whole group erupted in laughter.

“Come on y/n, I’ll fly you home,” Azriel chuckled, rising from the booth.

I braced myself on his shoulder to slip the stilettos off my feet so I could hold them in my hands. The second my bare feet hit the ground I was reminded by how much larger he was than me, and in my wine drunk state my stomach bottomed out in arousal. I waved goodbye to everyone as Az led me out of the small club.

“Tonight was fun,” I smiled drunkenly, my feet touching the cold wet cobblestones just outside Rita’s. I started to wobble a bit when Azriel grabbed me by my waist and hauled me up. All I could do was look into his golden eyes as I felt his hand spread across the bare skin there from my backless dress.

I didn’t think twice before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in for a kiss. The second I did it I realized what I had done, and I would’ve panicked if it had not been for the moan that fell from his lips as I pulled back. His other hand hit my waist pulling me closer to him making me stand on my tip toes. I felt my back hit the wall outside Rita’s as he deepened the kiss.

“God I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he groans, grip tightening on my waist.

“Then what’s keeping you from doing it again, Shadowsinger?” I smirk.

“Not a damn thing,” he smiled, connecting our lips again.

I was a mess of pure lust, because just like him, I had been dying to do this for years. Even dreaming about it on several occasions. But to have it happening was the most intense feeling I had ever known. My head was so clouded with need that I barely felt his mouth leave mine to kiss my neck. I tangled my hands in his hair pulling him closer and he reached his hands under my legs and picked me up so I wouldn’t have to strain to meet him.

He kissed a spot on my neck that was particularly sensitive, coaxing a moan from my mouth that drove him so wild he bit me. That was the moment we felt it. That mating bond snapping into place. He whipped his head back to meet my eyes, looking to see if I had felt it too.

“Oh my gods,” I breathed.

“We’re mates,” he stated though his own ragged breaths.

“Yes, mates,” I choked out, my brain still too cloudy to say anything as I searched his face for a sign of dread. Maybe he didn’t want to be mated, to me.

A smile broke his lips as he pressed his forehead to mine, “We’re mates,” he said again like he was trying to assure himself it was true.

“We are,” I giggled, happy to see that he was okay with this, that he wanted it as much as I did.

“You’re my mate,” he smiled, brushing stray hair from my face.

“Your mate,” I laughed joyously, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. I heard the door to Rita’s swing open.

“I knew it!” Mor screamed drunkenly. “I knew they were secretly dating, Cassian, you owe me 50 gold!”

“Not dating, mates.” Azriel barked proudly.

“Ha! Mor you owe me 100 gold now!” Rhysand laughed at Mor.

“That’s too bad Az I was hoping y/n could give me a ride later,” Cassian taunted earning a possessive growl from Azriel. The whole group laughed.

Needless to say Azriel flew me to the cabin in the Illyrian mountains that night and we didn’t leave for two weeks straight.

…that was years ago and since then our family has had new additions like Rhysand’s mate Feyre and her sisters. One thing hadn’t changed though, me and Azriel’s mated bliss.

I was waiting in the townhouse living room with the entire inner circle to talk about war plans. Well, most of the inner circle, Cassian and Azriel had taken a trip to inform the Illyrians that war was indeed coming and had been gone for a week.

“Thanks again for the wine, Rhys!” I smile, holding up my glass and clinking it to Mor’s.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to thank the person you stole the wine from,” he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe not, but it makes me feel less guilty about it,” I laugh while taking another swig. I sit and observe Rhys watching Feyre’s every movement, feeling warm and fuzzy from seeing him so happy.

Almost as if in response a shadow brushes down my cheek and I see Rhysand’s eyes flit up behind me with a smirk. I turn in my chair to find Azriel leaning in the doorway.

“Az!” I yell, jumping up and thrusting my wine glass into Mor’s hand. He gives me a knowing smile as I jump into his arms.

“I missed you too, my little star,” he smiled holding me close.

Cassian walked in just moments after and we joined the others in the living room. The second we were seated, and Rhysand stood to address us, it was like all the joy was sucked out of the room. We all knew how serious the topic was, and how even though we had spent many months avoiding it, it had finally come to call.

“I’ve heard reports that Hybern’s army is gathering, and it’s bigger than we expected,” Rhys stated.

“How much bigger?” Amren inquired.

“We once believed his army to be 70,000 men, now we know that it's over 100,000.” he replied grimly. My heart sank at his words.

“Well what did Devlon say?” I ask Azriel.

“He said that the Illyrians would fight, but if Hybern has an army of over 100,000 it’s still cutting it close.” Az replied.

“How close are they to being fully assembled?” Cassian asks.

A beat of silence passes and Rhys looks to Feyre, “By the end of this week they will be on Prythian soil, maybe next week if we are lucky.” he divulges.

“What if we called upon Bryaxis? The Bone Carver? The Attor? They might come to our aid.” Feyre pointed out and I didn’t miss the wince from Cassian at the mention of Bryaxis.

“That could help,” Rhysand nodded. “But there’s no telling what they’ll do once the battle starts.”

“But it’s worth a shot is it not?” Mor urged.

“We can look into it,” Rhysand nodded once more.

The rest of the night was filled with more talk of strategy and thinking of potential allies to call upon, but in the end Feyre’s suggestion was the best one. We all left the townhouse feeling more somber that night, something that rarely happened when we were all gathered together. Azriel flew us home and neither of us said anything. I thought about what Rhys had said, and how we were resorting to calling upon monsters to come to our aid. It wasn’t until after Azriel showered that he finally spoke up.

“You have no idea how good it feels to be home,” he groaned, flopping on the bed. I had slipped into one of my nightgowns and was sitting under the covers reading my book.

“I’m glad you’re home,” I smiled, running a hand through his wet hair. He plucked my bookmark for where it was beside me and placed it in my open book. A habit that he picked up years ago when he grabbed my book from out of my hand in exchange for a kiss and didn’t bookmark where I was. I had never been so furious with the man.

“Come here you,” he said, tossing my book to the side and pulling me into his chest. I giggled as he wrapped his arms around me, and breathed in. “You smell so good,” he practically groans.

“You mean I don’t smell like a sweaty Illyrian?” I chuckle, pressing a kiss to his bare chest.

“Yes, precisely,” he laughs, looking down at me with love and adoration. “Have I ever told you that you get kind of glowy at night? Like you literally have a faint glow about you.”

“Well I am a star,” I smile, pulling my hand out of the cocoon he has me in to let some starlight dance off my fingers.

“How could I ever forget,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my brow.

A moment of silence passes and I can’t help but think about the war again, this time I don’t keep quiet about my fears.

“What do you think we’re going to do about Hybern?” I whisper.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “All we can do is hope that our allies come.”

“But even then, will it be enough?” I ask.

“It might be, but there’s no telling.” he states honestly.

“Could this really be the end of everything? Everything we’ve ever known will be ripped away from us. Velaris, our family, the two of us.” I confess.

“Hey,” he coos, taking my face in his hands, “Don’t think like that. We’re going to figure this out. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“And who’s going to take care of you?” I ask, tears brimming my eyes.

“Rhys and Cassian,” he says. I know he feels my fear too, that he’s trying to put on a brave face for his mate. But the fact of the matter is that this is war, and not everyone is coming home. Part of me wants to interrogate further, but I know no matter how many times I ask or rephrase the question, I’m going to get the same answer. Because at the end of the day, neither of us knows what is going to happen.

So I just burrow my head into his chest and say, “Don’t you dare leave me Az.”

"Never mate, never."

That night I dream of clashing swords and soaring Illyrians. I hear war cries and screams of agony. I see blood and mud and bodies skewed across a battlefield. I smell death and decay and burnt flesh. I feel dread and despair. But then there is a blinding light, and there is peace and I hear nothing at all.

I wake the next morning from my dream and slip of out Azriel’s grasp, thankful that he was so tired from the trip from Windhaven that he doesn’t even stir. I get dressed and make my way to Rhysand’s town house. It had taken me all morning to realize what I had been shown in my dream, what it meant. I could only hope that my High Lord would understand it as I did.

I reach his office door and hesitate to knock. I don’t know why, I’ve known the man for hundreds of years. Eventually I do.

“Come in,” Rhysand beckons.

I step in and immediately wish I had kept my mental shields up, I feel Rhys probe my mind and catch a small glimpse of my thoughts. Before he can speak I cut in first.

“We need to talk to Rhys,” I say curtly.

“No y/n we aren’t having this conversation,” he dismisses me turning back to his papers.

“Rhys, I can end this war,” I argue.

“I won’t let you, not in the way you are thinking right now,” he bristles.

“Rhys, listen to me! I can take out the king and half of his army before he even lands a blow on you guys!” I inform him.

“How?” he stops and asks in a demeaning fashion.

I take a deep breath and take a step closer to him. “What do stars do when they die Rhys?” I say slowly.

A deafening silence fills the room, and I see his violet eyes fill with an understanding and realization.

“They explode,” he states.

“And they take Hybern and half of his army with them,” I reiterate, bracing my arms against his desk.

“You would die though,” he states in a way that’s more like a question.

“Yes I would die,” I confirm.

“You would do that to Azriel?” he asks, not believing what I was saying.

“No, but I would do it for him,” I say earnestly.

“Absolutely not, I won’t let Azriel lose his mate.” he says and it sounds more like an order.

I don’t flinch. I knew Rhysand would say this so I continue with my already prepared speech. “You’ll change your mind. When you realize you have more to lose than you originally thought. When you realize that your mate’s life hangs in the balance. That all you’ve gained lies in the balance. You’ll change your mind, and I’ll be ready when you do.”

“So I’m supposed to sacrifice you to save myself? Sacrifice Azriel’s mate to save my own?” he argues.

“You’re not sacrificing me. I’m choosing this. Choosing to give Azriel a chance to live. A chance at life… My final gift, to him, to all of you.” I start. “My whole life, it has never made sense as to why I’m here. Why a star fell from the sky and just happened to find Azriel. But now it does, this was the reason.” I explain.

There’s another silence in the room as Rhysand takes in all that I’ve said. My explanation for being here. Because I was right, it never did make sense that I would be a star personified. Yet here I was.

“You shouldn’t have to do this,” he says sadly, seemingly accepting that this might be the only chance he has to save Prythian.

“This is war Rhys, not a fairytale. Sacrifices must be made, for the greater good.” I say firmly.

“How are we supposed to tell Azriel this plan?” he asks, running a hand through his hair, stress evident on his face.

I know that everything I’ve told Rhys up until this point has angered and hurt him, but I have one last bandage to rip off, “We’re not going to tell him,” I deadpan.

“Y/n you know-”

“That he won’t let me do this?” I cut him off. “Yes I do. That’s why we can’t tell him. I’ve made my choice, telling him won’t change anything. But it will taint the time we have left together. Let us have this last little bit of time and then I will end this war so that you can have more.” I plead.

Rhys doesn’t say anything as he once again takes in my words. But I see the acceptance in his demeanor as he stands up and walks around his desk. He doesn’t speak, he just pulls me into his arms and hugs me. I throw my arms around him as a tear falls from my face.

“You are the bravest person I’ve ever known. I can never repay you for your sacrifice, all I can do is promise you that you will forever be honored and remembered in this court,” he says and I can feel him crying.

“But there is something you can do,” I say.

“What? I’ll do anything.” he backs away to look me in the eye.

“Don’t let my sacrifice go to waste. Make sure that Azriel lives when all this is said and done.” I beg him, a tear slipping from my eye.

The war comes quickly after that. or perhaps it just feels like it does because my life is suddenly on a timer. It isn't long until Hyberns forces gather on the shores of Prythian. We gather the Night Court's Army, the Illyrians and all the allies we can and march to meet them.

The war camp is a mess of fires, blades and soldiers of every kind. I’m practically glued to Azriel’s side, not only because I’m trying to soak up every lasting moment with him, but because he said, and I quote, “I would rather die than leave my devastatingly beautiful mate alone in a campsite full of war bound men looking for one last lay before the battlefield.”

The night before the battle Azriel made love to me in our tent, neither of us daring to say that it could be the last time we would ever get to lie with one another. Only Rhysand and I knew about the plan. It was too risky to tell anyone else, and like I had explained to Rhys before, I didn't want Azriel and I’s last days together to be tainted with constant tears. If I was going to die, I wanted us to be us.

That’s how we found ourselves here, at the front lines, our entire army behind us. Thankfully we were on top of a hill giving us somewhat of an upper hand. Bryaxis, The Bone Carver, and The Attor had in fact come to our aid, giving them the upperhand to deal with those who went unaffected by my blast. As we looked out over Hybern’s army that was a little over 400 yards away I couldn’t help but to cower into Azriel’s side. I looked to see Feyre doing the same to Rhys behind us. He made eye contact with me, and as I heard Hybern’s army in the background I knew it was time.

I stepped away from Azriel’s side and faced him. Took in every single curve of his face, and the way that his eyes caught the sun. I ran my hand down his cheek and he gave me a half smile. I prayed to whoever was listening, that I would remember his face. That wherever I went next I would have the ability to remember every moment I got to share with him in this world, and be grateful for what a gift it was.

“Whatever happens out there today,” I start to say. “I want you to know that I love you. I know I’ve said it a million times, but I could’ve said it more, should have. And I want you to know that you were the greatest gift I’ve ever known, and that if this was all the time we had, I’m grateful for every moment of it. I was lucky enough to find you in this world, I promise to find you in every other one.” I tell him, a tear going down my face as I throw my arms around his neck.

I can feel him smile into my shoulder as he says, “I love you too mate.”

I hold him tightly for the last time and open my eyes to find Rhys staring at me waiting for the signal. “Now,” I mouth to Rhys and he uses his magic to restrain Azriel. I slip one of Azriel’s daggers out his pocket, being sure to avoid Truth Teller, and I turn around and begin to walk down the hill towards Hybern’s Army.

Rhys and I had spent plenty of time coming up with the plan. I had to arrive at the battlefield without weapons, just leathers. I had never used weapons before, having always relied solely on my magic. It would’ve raised suspicion if I had brought any. We made sure our army was far enough away that with the efforts of Rhysand’s wards and the distance, the blast wouldn’t impact our own forces. I walked down to the army alone, appearing as though I am coming as an emissary to speak to them, after all I was just a tiny female, what harm could I do?

I walked with my chin held high, trying to appear as if I was a collected soldier coming to speak on behalf of my general. It was the hardest and longest walk of my life, as no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t drown out the screams of my mate behind me.

“Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Azriel screamed, his voice already horse. “RHYS LET ME GO SHE’S GOING DOWN THERE ALL BY HERSELF!”

I shudder at his words and try to keep a stiff upper lip as I get closer to Hybern’s army.

“HE’S GOING TO KILL HER, LET ME GO!” Azriel growled, a voice so deadly it could only belong to a male who’s mate was in danger.

As I get even closer I see the King of Hybern emerge from the army readying himself to receive my message.

“CASSIAN COMMAND THE ARMY TO OPEN FIRE!” Azriel pleads and I can hear him struggling against Rhys’ power.

“Cassian hold our position!” Rhysand bellows.

“Rhys what the fuck?!” Cassain shouts.

“THAT’S AN ORDER GENERAL!” Rhysand screams, sounding more like a High Lord than ever before.

I approach Hybern, dagger hidden behind me, lodged in my belt.

“PLEASE THAT’S MY MATE!”

I stand before the army.

“Have you come to surrender little one?” The King of Hybern croons, earring a laugh from his surrounding Generals and Captains.

“No, I’ve come to end you,” I muse.

I take a deep breath and pull the dagger from behind me and plunge it through my heart. The last thing I hear is Azriel’s scream before blinding white light erupts from me, and then I don’t feel anything at all.

Azriel:

The battle is easily won but at what cost? After y/n put that dagger through her heart more than half of Hybern’s army was wiped off the face of the earth. The battle was bloody but short and in the aftermath I found myself searching the field for my little star, my mate.

“Y/N!” I scream for her, voice torn.

I scan my surroundings looking for any glimpse of her, but I don’t see her, and I don’t feel her anymore either. She’s not gone, she’s not gone, she’s not gone, I keep telling myself.

“Y/N!” I scream again as I continue to look.

I keep flying until I see her. She has about a three foot blast radius around her where not even the grass is still growing, and her small form is lying there, unmoving. I slam into the ground and run toward her.

“No, no, no, no!” I curse as I fall to my knees before her. She’s covered in blood and mud from being trampled.

I take her into my arms and she’s so cold. So small and so cold.

“Baby please wake up,” I cry, brushing her hair out of her face. “Come on, you said you wouldn’t leave me!”

I sense Rhys and Cassian landing behind me and I can hear Feyre’s sobs.

“Please, please, please baby I can’t live without you,” I press my forehead to hers.

I cry and I beg for what feels like hours, but she doesn’t wake up. I reach inside me to tug at the bond, my last ditch effort to bring her back, but when I reach inside myself there’s nothing there.

At first there was nothing, just Azriel’s scream echoing in my brain and then there was silence. But now flickering in the distance I saw him, saw my mate, and I knew then and there that this was the cauldron’s last gift to me.

“Azriel,” I sang into the void like subspace.

“Y/n?” he asked, unsure of what was happening. He was wearing his pants he always wore to bed, which meant I was seeing him in his dream.

“Yes it’s me Az,” I smile, tears brimming my eyes.

“I’m just dreaming right?” he asks again.

“No,” I laugh walking over to him, grabbing him by his forearms. “It’s really me. I’m here somehow.”

“Oh my gods, I’ve missed you so much,” he breaks, voice cracking as he hugs me tight.

“How long has it been since the battle?” I ask.

“A little over a week,” he says standing back so he can look at me. “Why y/n? Why did you do it?”

I nearly broke at his words, “This was always the plan Az, we just didn’t know it till now.” I explain.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I think the universe knew that I was supposed to save you. That’s why I fell from the sky, that’s why you found me. Why the cauldron made us mates.” I tell him, tears falling from my eyes as my hand wipes away his.

“Why didn’t you tell me though?” he cries.

“Would you have let me sacrifice myself if I did?” I ask. “I wanted my last few days with you to be as normal as they could be.”

Silent tears fall from his eyes, “But what do I do without you?”

“You live Azriel,” I smile. “You were the greatest joy I ever knew Az. I did this so you could live, with Cassian and Rhys. I told you I would find you in every world, you still have things to do in your world, but I’ll find you in this one too when your time comes.”

“How do I live without you?”

“You never will, I am a star after all.”

#azriel x reader fluff #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst

669 notes · View notes

angelpuns · 5 months

Note

Funny plot but; dee and little leo roleplaying star wars.

Dee: " It's over! I have the high ground! "

Leo: *Stand over a table* " No! I have higher grounds! "

Dee: " You had understatement my power! " *pull out hands from his battle shell and tickle leo*

Angst warning cause it was GONNA be cute and fluff but then I remembered something from a past comic soooo

SORRY BUT I HAD TO OKAY CAUSE THIS IS JUST WHERE THE LOGIC LINE TOOK ME-

You're ideas are always so fun to draw fr fr fr I have been having a blast with these mini comics an I think they're the perfec tthing to get me all warmed up n ready for the next arc so thank you for always sending such fun asks!!!

Kid Leo au Masterpost | First | Next

#art #rottmnt #fanart #rottmnt fanart #digital art #rottmnt leo #comic #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt comic #rottmnt art #kid leo au #rottmnt kid leo au #rottmnt turtle tots

899 notes · View notes

targaryen-dynasty · 5 months

Text

REWRITE THE STARS.

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader

Aemond arrives at your betrothed‘s funeral. And after being denied your hand in marriage once, he does not come to leave without you.

WARNINGS: angst? mentions of death, mentions of war, hinting at murder, kinda dark Aemond, female reader of House Baratheon (no mentions of appearance)

WORDS: 1.5 K

NOTES: Wow, feels weird posting something without smut lmfao. But… 👀 It‘s not mentioned, but someone particular and very jealous might have killed Lord Rosby, seeing that his House had deflected to the Greens at the very beginning of the war.

The body of your betrothed had not even been lowered into the ground by the time the enormous wings of Vhagar casted a dark shadow over the castle of Rosby.

He had been drowning in his own blood after being struck in his throat by a crossbow from one of the so-called Black’s, or so you have been told, and while the image of it had been quite unsettling, the funeral itself was not too bad.

Lord Rosby was many years older than you, and you had been betrothed not long before the war started. The Lord himself had asked for your hand in marriage, and with your father still having four more daughters to spare for any kind of political alliance, he had all too eagerly agreed.

Much to the disliking of the prince, who dismounted his large beast at this very moment.

He had convinced your father to support Aegon in the war of succession by promising to marry one of his daughters. You had been standing next to your father while your sisters stood lined up for Aemond to choose, and even after stating more than once that you hadn’t been free to marry anymore, the besotted prince had just reluctantly agreed to take the hand of your older sister Floris in marriage.

Marrying a young prince of a House as noble as House Targaryen seemed far more appealing than marrying an old lord of House Rosby, and for the short time Aemond had stayed in the Round Hall of Storm’s End, it seemed you two had shared the same resentment towards the man sitting on the throne right next to you.

The envy you felt towards your sister had been eating you alive, so much that you had requested for your belongings to be moved to the castle of Rosby just so you didn’t have to endure seeing her face any longer. That your betrothed was not even there at that time just made it better.

Now your father – and possibly you as well – had to experience the consequences of his pride and stubbornness first hand, it seemed.

Upon spotting the large dragon in the far distance, a few members of House Rosby had taken their leave to go into hiding, but you and your father stood strong, despite the risk of being bathed in Vhagar’s flames sooner than later.

For your father, it might have been the belief in his allegiance to the King, but for you, it was your House’s words, ours is the fury – and your fury was solely aimed at the man responsible for your misery.

The rustling and shuffling behind you indicated that the few people, that had remained at the funeral side, bowed to the approaching prince, their mumbled courtesies not prompting you to turn around.

“Lord Borros,” his voice was cold and calculated, dragging a shiver down your spine. “I assume you know what I came here for.”

Your father sighed, barely audible to anyone other than you, but even then you refused to acknowledge what was happening behind your back. It was not your place to speak, as you knew you had little say in the matter.

The steps of Aemond coming closer could be heard, his presence suffocating. "‘Tis clear that she is not to wed Lord Rosby anymore. He was slain in battle, and his death has rendered the marriage pact void,” he stated the obvious, not mincing any words. “I desire to take her hand in marriage now.”

“Lord Rosby is but a day cold in the ground. It is hardly fitting of us to discuss marriage before he is even laid to rest,” your father scoffed, the sharp edge to his voice causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand. “Besides, I have already given you the hand of one of my other daughters, Prince Aemond. Your House might do as it sees fit, but mine will not, and one wife is more than enough.”

At his bold statement, your body went rigid, more so as you merely heard Aemond humming in return.

After that, a short silence descended upon the courtyard.

“Do not allow your foolish pride to cloud your judgment, Lord Borros.” You raised a brow at that, curious to find out what direction this encounter was meant to take. “You will not gain anything by denying it.”

Not watching the moment the knights lowered your betrothed’s body into his final resting place, you turned around. Your eyes drifted from the ground up to the prince standing not too far away, his lips curled, and a steely stare solely focused on your father.

“Your other daughter is of no interest to me.” His face was unmoving, and his voice as sharp as a steel dagger. “I have made clear what I wanted when I first set foot in your halls, and now, I have come to take it.”

When Aemond turned his focus on you, you could feel his penetrating gaze weight over you, the intensity of his good eye being enough to make you shiver. Yet, there was something about him that lured you in, a pull that was impossible to resist. With the way his lips pulled into a smug smirk, you knew he had noticed the turmoil raging within you.

Aemond jutted his chin forward, addressing your father while looking at you. “I will take her with me with or without your blessing.” The cold determination with which he spoke had your blood running cold. “You may not have the power to deny me the chance to wed her, Lord Borros, but ‘tis your choice whether you allow it to happen in your halls.”

Gathering your thoughts, you raised a hand to stop your father from speaking even before he had opened his mouth, yet you averted your gaze down to the ground, not able to meet either of their gazes. “The war has already been harsh for the Stormlands and the entire Realm, father. I have seen men return, bearing corpses of husbands and sons,” you said, keeping your focus on the ground beneath your feet with your voice unusually stern. “If this is the only way to bring peace to our people, then so be it.”

You glanced at your father, and the scowl on his face was almost enough to make you retreat.

Ours is the fury, you remembered.

“The Lord Paramour of the Stormlands does not bend to the whims of some Targaryen–”

“Enough, father,” you interrupted him, your voice stern once more. “The Stormlands have been bleed dry, peace is what matters. If my hand is what Prince Aemond desires, he shall have it.”

Your father grunted in disbelief, not expecting you to speak against him and surrender so easily.

Aemond’s eye drank you in once more, and the smug smirk his lips had held before had returned, adorning his chiseled features. “Very well,” the Prince Regent declared, moving toward you with a hand outstretched. He intended for you to place yours in it, which you did after a second of hesitating.

Before he led you towards the beast waiting outside the castle’s walls, Aemond turned to look at your father one last time, the smugness fully taking over his stance and demeanor. “I suggest you start preparing for the wedding, my lord, that is, if you wish to retain the title you currently hold.”

The threat hung in the air, gagging you and making it impossible for you to breathe. You did not meet your father‘s eyes, for you were certain the disappointment flashing in them would burden you even more.

Silence surrounded you two on the walk towards his dragon, safe for the ‘you chose wisely,’ he had mumbled as you passed through the castle’s gates. These three words had your eyes widening, regarding the prince carefully.

There was a strange lightness in your stomach as you approached the looming presence of the prince‘s beast, happy and afraid for what was to come at the same time. Were you meant to follow the same tragic path other women that had married a Targaryen prince had taken? Or would your future look different?

An unfamiliar heat emanated from the dragon the closer you got, pulling you out of your thoughts. There was little time for you to adjust to its presence before your now betrothed urged you to climb the ropes leading towards the saddle on its back.

“I will be right behind you,“ he said, a poor attempt to calm your fluttering nerves.

With a bow of your head, you hesitantly reached for the thick ropes and started climbing the beast, the act itself proving to be a great challenge.

Aemond strapped you to the saddle, sitting behind you to keep you steady and supported while the dragon moved to ascend into the sky for your flight to King's Landing.

And with one look over your shoulder, you saw the castle of Rosby and its village disappear in the far distance.

You had yet to find out if you had made the right decision or not.

404 notes · View notes

moonstrider9904 · 1 month

Text

Don't Blame Me

This one shot is for the Bad Batch Prompt event using the prompt:

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself, you coward.”

Pairing: Crosshair x Fem!Reader

Tags: 18+ strictly. Minors should not interact with this or any of my writing pieces as they are content for adults only. Smut, sexual tension, foul language and swearing, oral (female receiving) sex, unprotected vaginal sex, creampie, flirting.

Playlist: Don't Blame Me by Taylor Swift

@arctrooper69 Tagging you right here :D

A night like that one was much too rare. The sun had just finished going down beneath the horizon, and the faintest hue of blue still lit the sky while the stars had already begun their nightly dance. The breeze was warm on your skin, even with the drops of water that lingered on you as you sat at the edge of the pool with your feet and calves still in the water, your hands running down your wet hair as you sighed and took in the life of the moment. The speakers played chill tunes, easy to listen to, perfect to vibe with the summery air and the laughs coming from all around the pool.

You looked around and smiled at the fact that all of your favorite troopers were there, and even some you hadn’t seen before—probably shinies who had just joined their platoons. Boys from the 501st, 212th, hell, even the 99s had bothered to come to a summer pool night on Naboo for their shore leave.

You couldn't help but laugh and think you’d seen it all when, across the pool, you saw that silver-haired sniper taking a sip from a bright cocktail. And his eyes were on you too, glaring, but you were used to that. You shot a cheeky grin at Crosshair only for him to roll his eyes and look away.

Your gaze remained on him for a little longer until you heard somebody diving into the pool, and when you looked at the crystalline water lit by the warm bulbs submerged in it, you quickly realized it was Fives as he emerged from under the water running his hands up his face and towards the back of his head, brushing the hair away. In that pose, Fives opened his arms and flexed, showing off his biceps as he shot you his signature charming grin, winking at you.

“These babies have gotten bigger since the last time I saw you, sweetheart,” Fives beamed.

Laughter escaped you—as much as you adored Fives, his attempts at flirting were always a sight to behold. Something about young, handsome soldiers tripping over their feet for your attention made you wish all summer nights were like that one, and to follow along with Fives’ game, you crossed one leg over the other, planted your hands firmly on the ground at your sides and shrugged, pursing your lips together.

“I don’t know, they kinda look the same to me,” you teased him.

“Don’t listen to him,” you heard the voice next to you as Jesse took a seat beside you only to fully get into the pool and swim over next to Fives, adopting his same pose. “I actually think I pull it off better, and I only lift half as often as he does. It’s like I don’t even have to try.”

“Oh, shut up!” Fives yelled, grinning mischievously as he brushed his hand and forearm over the water’s surface in Jesse’s direction, splashing him.

“That’s how you wanna do it, you runt?” Jesse played along and began splashing back.

As if that gesture were a galactic beckoning for the clones, the pool almost instantly became filled with troopers wanting to partake in the splash battle. You giggled as you watched them splash and wrestle playfully—the scene in front of you was probably the best definition of “boys being boys.” You loved it, and laughter wouldn’t stop leaving you. For the duration of that night, you hadn’t enjoyed anything more than what was currently playing out in front of you.

However, across the pool, the same pair of piercing amber eyes glared past the scene and into you, but you weren’t taking notice of that anymore.

It only took a few seconds for the clones’ splash war to no longer be about you, and the water flying in from multiple directions was beginning to get out of hand. Wiping a couple of drops that had fallen near your eyes, you got up and made your way towards the chair where you’d left your things. You slipped your feet into your sandals, smiling at the sound of the racket behind you blending with the music, and then you took the cream-colored shawl you’d taken to the party and wrapped it around your hips in a makeshift skirt. You were in the mood for a drink now, but while the water wars ended, you figured you’d hit the powder room to adjust your suit.

Crosshair watched you from where he stood, his eyes following your silhouette as you walked from the pool to the lounge. Every time your right leg came forward, your skin was exposed by the edges of the fabric wrapped around your hips, offering him a teasing glimpse of your thigh. He picked up on the sway of your hips, the delicate left and right of every step that you took, partnered perfectly with your hands coming back and forth in tandem with your stride. As you walked past the chairs and the tables, Crosshair took in how gracefully your hair framed your face, as well as how perfectly the top of your bathing suit framed your breasts and the top half of your belly, letting him see the skin just above your belly button only for the smoothness to stop just above your womb, where the shawl began.

Fuck. He suppressed a groan. Did you even have any idea how sensual you looked? Clearly you didn’t, why else would you waste yourself on all those amateurs trying to impress you with a basic flex and a splish-splash of water?

You’d made it to the common mirror just outside the restrooms and looked at your reflection in the flattering warm lighting. You combed through your hair using your fingers, trying to achieve a carefree look, a blend between messy and done that seemed right for the night. When you were done with that, you eased a few creases on the fabric of your shawl and tightened the knot—you didn’t want that getting loose on accident—and you smoothed out the top of your bathing suit as well. Once you were ready to head back out into the party, you turned around and began making your way where you came from. Your thoughts on what cocktail you were gonna get were interrupted by a tall, lean silhouette dressed in black coming into view. The sight of those amber eyes made you stop in your tracks, and you couldn’t help the little grin that appeared on your lips.

“Look who finally decided to socialize,” you teased him.

Crosshair scoffed, his eyes looking aside as he did. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wouldn’t waste my time or energy with you.”

You placed your hands over your heart, faking a heartache. “Must you hurt me so?”

“I’m not particularly happy with you,” Crosshair crooned.

You giggled. “You’re never happy with anyone. And you of all people have no reason to hold anything against me, you never even let yourself open up to me.” Your gaze softened and you took a step towards him, holding your fists behind your back and pouting up at him. “Why won’t you let me in, Crosshair?”

Again, he rolled his eyes. “I didn’t come here for this.”

“Something tells me you did,” you answered. “Here I am, what do you want with me?”

“Nothing,” Crosshair nearly spat the word out.

You raised a brow. No one in that party could deny how insightful you were, not even him.

Crosshair scoffed again. “Fine, I’ll bite.”

“Please do,” you couldn’t resist the urge to say.

“Maybe I didn’t like the way the others were making fools out of themselves for your attention,” Crosshair glared. “It was pathetic to watch.”

“Ah,” you crossed your arms, nodding slowly. “So you’re jealous.”

“Fuck, no,” Crosshair smirked. “I just wouldn’t be caught dead being a complete idiot like that.”

“So you aren’t jealous?” You smirked back.

“No.”

“Then why do you look like you’re about to stab someone?” Your smirk widened.

You’d cornered him, and Crosshair hated that. He was used to always having the upper hand, the higher ground, to being on top of everything. Nothing could ever surprise him, and when it did, it only meant he’d screwed up. The fact that you had just done that in the most leisurely of settings made him want to puke.

“Forget this,” he said, his silhouette beginning to turn around.

“I didn’t take you for the type to run away, Crosshair,” you said as your hands went over to your hips and you shifted your weight onto your left side, emphasizing the curves of your silhouette.

Crosshair faced you again, his gaze darkening at the little pose you’d adopted. You noticed his eyes running down your body, but when they met yours again, his gaze hardened.

“Fuck you,” he said, without hesitating.

You scoffed, looking at him from head to toe as well. “Fuck me yourself, you coward. I’d like to see if you can.”

He scoffed, his thin lips curving into a smile as he made his way towards you painfully slowly. Hovering in front of you, he took his fingers up to your chin, tilting your face up, making your breath hitch despite your witty exterior.

“You better be damn serious about that, doll,” Crosshair purred with hungry eyes.

“What, did I stutter?” Your breath shook as you whispered, and your hand snaked up his abdomen and felt his chest over the black shirt he wore. “What other way do I have to tell you I want this?”

The hand that was on your chin traveled back and down to cup the side of your neck, firm, but never hard enough to hurt you. Crosshair’s fingertips rested gently on your nape, and his other hand went up and joined the first in perfect symmetry. He pressed his body closer to yours, never breaking eye contact with you, and your heart beat so fast you were afraid he’d be able to hear it through your chest. He was devastatingly handsome, looming over you, watching you with lustful eyes foreboding passion. It didn’t matter where you were. It didn’t matter if there were people outside—they were enjoying their own night, they didn’t have to be involved in what only concerned you and Crosshair. All that mattered was the sensation of his hands on your skin, your hands over his chest, and the heat beginning to boil low in your stomach.

You half-expected another snarky remark, another sneer coming from Crosshair just to test the waters, but you basked in the mercy of the satisfaction that came when Crosshair finally crashed his lips down on yours. He stepped towards you and you stepped backwards, stumbling into the bathroom for him to lock the door behind him when you were both already inside. The music continued to boom from the party outside, as did the cheers and the laughter from everyone blissfully ignorant of the fire catching between you and the marksman. You didn’t have to worry about being heard.

You blindly walked backwards with your fists tugging at Crosshair’s shirt, your mind swarming with the concept of him as he devoured your lips with luscious kisses and mischievous nibbles. You felt your back bump into the wall next to the sink, and he pressed you onto it, letting you feel the erection growing under his pitch-black boxer bathing suit. You whimpered at the hardness and let your hands travel up his chest and around his shoulders until the tips of your fingers found his silver hair, which you twirled and tugged hoping to get a sound from him. Crosshair pleased you by letting out a low grunt and grew more passionate with every tug you gave to his hair.

One of the hands that was on your neck traveled down to your waist and kneaded your flesh with his fingertips, freeing your neck for him to take his kisses down to that sensitive skin he so badly wanted to mark. You shuddered when you first felt Crosshair suck on your neck, and you were astounded at his ease to find your sweetest spot. He nibbled and sucked such that you were certain there would be a maroon mark on your skin, and you enjoyed every second of it. You were enjoying the idea of coming out of that bathroom with that mark on your neck for everyone to see, and something told you Crosshair would get a kick of it as well, parading you in front of everyone else to show them how it’s really done.

When he was finished with your neck, Crosshair moved down your body leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles whilst feeling every inch of your body he could, including your hardened nipples over the fabric of your swimsuit, until he was on his knees in front of you. His hands greedily squeezed the flesh of your buttcheeks as he focused his kisses on your lower abdomen, just above the line where your shawl and the bottom of your bathing suit began. Unwilling to wait much longer to finally taste you, Crosshair curled his fingers around your bathing panties and pulled them down your legs with ease. You stepped out of them for him to hand them to you for you to hold in one hand, and when your other hand went to undo your top, he was quick to stop you.

“No, doll,” Crosshair purred. “You’re keepin’ that on.”

You giggled at him in response, and by his actions, he didn’t intend for you to remove that shawl either. Part of you would have preferred for Crosshair to have already been shirtless at this point, but any sort of thought faded when Crosshair took one of your legs and wrapped it around his back—it was only until then you became aware that your aching cunt was finally exposed to him.

Crosshair split the fabric of your shawl and placed it over your hips to keep it out of the way; he held your butt with one hand to keep you steady while he used his index and thumb fingers on his other hand to lift the hood of your clit. Your mind barely had a second to ponder on the fact that he knew what he was doing, and when you felt his tongue begin to brush over the pearl of your clit, your whole world faded. A deep moan escaped you, and your head fell back to the wall as your chest heaved at every sensation Crosshair gifted you with. You slipped farther from sanity and nearer into bliss, feeling he’d tip you over the edge in an obscenely small amount of time.

Switching between luscious kissing and precise sucking, Crosshair turned you from confident temptress to whimpering mess, pleased at the idea of having you at his mercy. Your moans grew louder and more desperate, and your hand reached down to find his hair again, twirling and tugging at his beautiful silver locks. You drew a moan from Crosshair, and its vibrations resonated deep within your flesh, finally finishing you off. Your already helpless moaning turned into pleading mewls as the pleasure that focused on your clit exploded into beautiful flames invading every corner of your body. Your muscles tensed as you squirmed, knowing it was only Crosshair’s grip keeping you upright. You were oblivious to the amount of times you whimpered his name, you only had the headspace to rut your hips against him, as if you weren’t feeling enough mind-erasing pleasure already.

You wanted more. You wanted his fullness, his touch. You wanted him.

Crosshair emerged from between your legs as if he were coming up for air after a long swim. You were dazzled, panting in the aftermath of every wave of pleasure you’d just felt, but you managed to look down and see him smirking proudly. Crosshair grunted as he stood up, towering over you again, and just when you were beginning to make sense of the world around you again, you saw him pulling down his bathing shorts to reveal a long, hard erection waiting just for you.

You couldn’t help but moan at the sight, making him chuckle with pride.

“Got room for some more?” Crosshair asked.

You nodded frantically, and without hesitation, Crosshair firmly grasped your ass and lifted you, resting part of your weight on the sink beside you. You clung to him, needily wrapping your legs around his waist, and he could only hum at the sight, pleased. After the painful wait, you finally felt Crosshair sliding himself into you, hissing at the initial stretch of your flesh only for you to moan when it became the most incredible sensation you’d ever experienced.

And Crosshair took it from there. Holding you firmly, he took care of every movement. Your arousal made it easier for him to slip in and out of you at whatever speed he desired, and you could tell he wasn’t planning on putting anything off. He was quick, accurate, decisive, grunting low and seductive into your ear with every few thrusts into your hips. Your nails clawed into his upper back, moaning deeply as you tightened your legs around him as much as you could, and it heightened the sensations you felt.

As he continued to fuck deep into you, Crosshair made eye contact with you for a moment, his cocky exterior suddenly becoming caring, even soft. The thought of your prior conversation entered your mind—how long had he felt that way for you? How long had you been suppressing your own desires for him?

Now that you were in his arms, feeling all the pleasure he could give you, you were certain you were where you needed to be.

A tender moan of his name escaped you just before you felt the pleasure expand through your body again. The moans induced by this second orgasm were far louder and embarrassingly more lustful than those of the first, and Crosshair thrust his hips faster into you as he fisted your hair and gave it a light tug. Your vision went white as you succumbed to the pleasure, to him, until you felt the heat of his release inside you followed by soft, low-pitched moans that sealed every one of your feelings for him.

Carefully, he set you down, and once he was sure that your feet were firm on the ground, Crosshair went limp in front of you. His arms were the only thing that remained strong as he caged you to the wall, panting to recover his breath in tandem with you. His lips were close to yours, and you couldn’t help but reach your hands up to cup his face and kiss him gently. Crosshair kissed you back without a hesitation, retrieving his hands from the wall to place them over your wrists, pressing you deeper to him.

“You never had to be jealous, Crosshair,” you whispered.

“Don’t blame me,” he panted, “for getting a little unhinged at the thought of someone else trying to satisfy you.”

“Hey, if this is the result, I’ll take it any day,” you winked. “I should have known a tease and a challenge was all it took.”

Crosshair smirked at you and let his hands travel down to your waist, straightening his back and lifting your feet up with him. “Wanna show off your hickey?”

You felt the heat rush to your cheeks. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

Crosshair chuckled and pecked your lips, setting you down on the floor again and pulling up his bathing suit again. “Come.”

You put the bottom of your bathing suit on and followed him out of the refresher with your arm linked in his, ready for all the stares you were about to receive. Crosshair would definitely show them all, and you never would have fathomed the idea of parading a fresh hickey in front of a group of men who were flirting with you minutes earlier, but if that love hadn’t made you a bit crazy, you wouldn’t have been doing it right.

#tbbpromptevent #moonstrider writes #tbb x reader #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair smut #tbb smut #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic

259 notes · View notes

zmb1eslut · 3 months

Text

I missed you.

Masterlist

ex-boyfriend!Luke Castellan x Aphrodite!reader

summary: Reader doesn't know how to say no to Luke, so she runs away every time he tries to win her over.

warnings: soft makeout, smoking, reader goes non-verbal when nervous (but she pulls it off), I don't usually write narrative (I'm a casual poetry writer).

word count: 1,091

clarification: as a daughter of Aphrodite, people develop attraction towards reader after long eye-contact exposure, so she usually avoids it altogether.

>>>──────────────────────────<<<

You thought it couldn't be true, the way his eyes still traced your every step that night. Like if a soft blow of unspoken whispers followed you like a shadow into the dancing ground. He was there. He was everywhere, pulling you from behind to clash just once more into his longing brown eyes.

You thought it couldn't be true.

Maybe your hopes were just blending into the air of that groaning old forest.

You sat down, as the last stars in the sky arrived fashionably late to the Aphrodite's secret reunion. A little self-conscious, you took your rolling paper out, losing yourself to the familiarity of your actions. You took your first blow, and while watching the smoke, at some point came the fifth. And then it became real, you didn't even bother to check, he was there. He was coming.

As if it was that easy, just like that, you felt his presence land by your side.

"Mind if I grab one?" he asked.

As he pretended not to be on the team that snuck that shit in in the first place, you pretended not to know he had already quit smoking 8 months ago. Every word was hard to say, you wouldn't waste any into empty accusations. As always, you let him have his way.

You broke the imaginary bounds that kept you from each other when your hand crossed the line with a lighter. He instead reached for your elbow, and his hands slowly moved up to your wrist, while he accomplished to move your hand away from both of you so it wouldn't be in between you two. He was silently begging for your eyes to simply look in his direction once more, you still tried to know better.

Your gaze fixed on his chest, the least dangerous place they could find that acknowledged his presence. He took the lighter, but your hand stayed there, hanging frozen. He blew the smoke on your face aiming at a reaction, and it felt like everyone disappeared behind the intimacy of the gas. But... you wouldn't be dragged into his world again. You stood up, and went away.

Every step was heavy. Once a lighthearted deared girl, and now a mess full questions and rage.

You've been treated like a temptress and like a whore, but it didn't quite prepared you to be treated like a princess who would never ascend to the throne. Left alone in a castle full of people, without love. He was always in battle, your knight in shining armor, who just breathed and crawled for a cause much grater than your sorrow. You guessed. He'd never tell. You never knew.

"How are the nightmares? " you dared, when your paths crossed again near the lake.

"Aw... You worried, angel? " was the safer answer, 'cause deflection was effective. You were always scared of being pushy, and had always been moved for a guy being scared. The breeze was chanting for you, while the silence simply dared you. You knew the dance. Your hands didn't wonder from his soft curls into his back, it was more proper to say that they knew the pathway back to back. Like if the traces of your fingers were already carved on his skin, just like another scar from battle, cause not to hold you felt like a war. And you surrender. just. once. more.

His head rests on your chest, and his sneaky hands have never feared but you feel them doubting, if traveling down your waist was way too gambly. And he dared. And you sunk.

"Don't look at me like that, Castellan" was everything you could think of. You were still resilient to bless him with your stare. But he felt powerful once again, and he was now sitting straight, gazing down at your glowing skin. And he dared. He slowly approached, and your posture played around, playing dumb. You tried not to laugh when he huffed.

It felt safe on his arms. It always did. And you knew inside, he knew where you were. In front of that lake, at a party like this one, he sat you on his lap in front of everyone, with your hand in his and kissed it every time he made you laugh. And when that night ended, it was just the start.

You left a hopeful sigh, and he caressed your side in response. You felt him again, closing the distance. You hide your face behind your hand as you decided to pull your hair behind your ear. He looks away, exasperated at your antics. Those were the reactions you liked.

Only him would make you this naive, but he was starting to doubt himself. He took his free hand to entrap you by each side, and looking at your lips, he shamelessly whispered —Can I kiss you? —and you knew you weren't playing anymore, and you realized that you truly wouldn't ever say no. That's why you always ran away. Your eyes looked up and lazed with the darkness of his pupils. Before you tangled on a desperate mess of brushes and silent pleadings. To your agony, his hand moved from touching your sensitive needs into a dominant hold from under your thigh. Your hands held into his collar and bicep. He pulled away and melted you with a smirk, got next to your ear and in a lower voice said "You are so irritating." You felt your legs go jelly as he chuckled. He kissed you again, you let it happen. You would let the moment swallow you whole, again into the warmth of his embrace. But you felt voices coming and you quickly went away.

Went away into the woods, your intentions becoming clearer and more humiliating with every lazy step you took. You heard hisnsteps as you knew you would. He found his way back to you. You looked up at him as your back pressed against a tree. And you never felt as excitingly frail before hearing his voice.

"Tell me, did you missed me?"

"I missed you, Luke."

He seemed satisfied, and pressed his body into yours. You could feel the way his shirt smelled like firewood, and his heartbeat raised for you. But all you could focus on was how needy made you feel the recognizable way his bulge pressed bravely against your crotch.

"Yeah... I missed you too."

>>>──────────────────────────<<<

#pjo series #pjo tv show #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #im sorry if this is boring #my best

251 notes · View notes

jj-the-hobbit171 · 28 days

Text

I have an idea. So a medieval au!. So, reader was this royal scholar of sorts that spent all their time studying, and reading the secrets of the land, and they liked it… till they met Johnny. The spitfire from the neighboring kingdom. Wild, so carefree, he was everything reader wasn’t, and that drew them together.

In the day, reader and Johnny would play fight in the castle gardens, running from guards and tutors that tried to sit them down; in the night, they’ll sneak out of the castle walls,into the forest, to the highest peek. He’ll lay his head in their lap, gazing at the stars, or them, and reader recites a story for them.

So, this happened for a long time, and they grow up, reader,to an exemplary royal advisor while Johnny now had reached the age of corrination. They move their relationship forward, and wed; giving each Al other their rings, He promises reader that they’ll never leave them, never leave this kingdom… that he’ll be their king and their lover.

But, fate has other plans and war strikes. The kingdom is in trouble and MacTavish has to leave, but not before your love has bored life, either through surrogacy, adopting, or the good old fucking. Anyway, he leaves you and your unborn to fight, and three mouths go by, and you’re holding your to months old boy in your arms when a messenger arrives. Their face is solem, as they kneel and present Johnnys fur coat, caked in blood, and torn in places. The king, has fallen.

It was a sad say at the funeral, his mother sobbing on the ground as they carry a close coffin to the grave. John MacTavish, king , husband, son and father, was buried. And on that day, you wore your battle amor, draped on his fur coat, and went, to purge the land.

And for five years, that’s exactly what you do. You go to each kingdom, conquering it, in the name of the late king. Slaughtering men and women who dare stand in your way, leaving with a new kingdom, and blood on your hands. But, one day, you pillaged and small but thriving town, and doing the routine, rounding the men together to either be captured or killed…. And when they brought them to you, one stood out.

He was shorter Thant the three other people he was with, with a very vivid mohawk. You ignored the other men, walking up to the stranger, and raising up his head….

“J-Johnny?”

And cliffhanger! Honestly, there’s a lot that I wanted to add, but I really want to hear from you about any ideas you have for this Au. Anyway thanks for reading!

From the hobbit hole,

J.J

#poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #ghoap x reader #cod x male reader #141 x reader #cod x reader #john soap mactavish

187 notes · View notes

acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 month

Text

Name Your Price — Amren x Reader (Starfall Week)

Hiiii! Here’s my little piece for @starfallweek 2024. I hope you all like it 💕my beautiful soulmate @greeneyedivy helped me name it 💅🏻

I used the prompt “character A finally makes a move on character B”. I’ve never written for Amren before so this was quite fun!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3.9k

“You’re sure you don’t want me to fly you back up?”

Cassian cocks an eyebrow at you, the steadiness of his hold dissipating as he tugs his arms from around you. Though your feet are on solid ground, it takes a moment for your equilibrium to right itself. Being in the skies is something you haven’t yet become accustomed to, despite three of your closest friends sporting wings. And being flown on Starfall is an experience entirely of its own.

“You’ll miss the best part,” Cass complains, peering up at the dark canopy above you. The sky is beginning to stir as the stars ready themselves for their journeys. It won’t be long before they’re soaring and crossing.

And tempting as it is to stay and watch the sight that never lessens in its magnificence, you feel…different this year. Like there’s somewhere else you ought to be. Someone else you ought to be with.

“I’m sure,” you dip your chin. “You go, Cass. Enjoy it.”

But he doesn’t move. He studies you head to toe, studies every shred of effort you put into your appearance — hair and makeup perfected, a stunning outfit hugging your body. You feel beautiful, no doubt — and yet you’re leaving after a mere hour of drinking on the balcony with your friends.

“You know she’s just going to be holed up in her apartment with the curtains drawn,” Cass says. “She hates Starfall.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who.”

Amren.

Is it little bit humiliating that you’re so damn transparent? Perhaps. But Cass is one of your closest companions — you can hardly expect him to believe that you’re simply leaving to return to your own home and switch your stunning dress for your pyjamas.

You shrug a shoulder. “I just want to check on her, is all.”

“Hmm,” your friend’s lips twitch. “I’m sure.”

With a roll of your eyes, you swat his ludicrously huge arm. “Go back to the party,” but you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you — for flying me.”

“Good luck with the tiny little rain cloud. She’ll be even crankier tonight than usual.”

With a lopsided smirk and a fond — and annoying — mussing of your hair, he launches back into the sky and heads back to the House of Wind. You stare after him, wondering if you’re making the right choice.

Because when Amren says she wants to be left alone, she means it. But…you don’t know. Things have been changing. Things have been…different.

This is your third Starfall, since your move to the Night Court after the war. A native of the Day Court, it had surprised you to find yourself so at home in a place of starlight, so opposite to what you’d always known. But as one of Helion Spell-Cleaver’s nearest and dearest, you’d worked closely with Rhysand and his Inner Circle during those fraught times of battle and bloodshed — and bonded with them far more than you’d ever expected yourself to. Become an honorary member of their unit, so to speak.

And when Rhysand had courteously invited you for a visit to Velaris after the war was over, you’d known from the second your feet had touched the cobbled streets — this was where you were supposed to be.

Three years later, with a home here, a job as a Night courtier…it was hard to imagine you’d ever been anywhere else.

And perhaps the most notable and unexpected connection you’d forged was the one you had with the with the tiny creature whose barbed, edged words were — you’d learned — a sign of affection.

You did not understand Amren one bit. She was a mystery you couldn’t puzzle out, a being that was sometimes so harsh, it was hard to believe she had any warmth in her at all. But Rhysand giving the two of you a subject he’d needed you to research together had brought you closer, over the recent months. Had shredded through that trepidation you’d once felt around her and shifted it into something…different. Something exciting.

You find that try as you might, you can’t stay away.

And that’s how you find yourself strolling those cobbled streets of Velaris, dressed up to the nines and stars beginning to burst above you. You could be spectating the brilliant sight with your friends, but something tugs you towards the other side of the city. To the loft apartment with the sloping windows and the strange, intriguing female who dwells within

Indeed, as you approach, you find those windows to be blacked out. Blocking out the sight of what is occurring in the skies. You almost smile, but now you’re nervous and second-guessing yourself a little. You could turn away, go home — in all likelihood, Amren won’t want to see you.

But tonight feels different. Tonight feels like a reckoning.

So you swallow your nerves and decide you’re doing this.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You knock once, and a voice that is both nightmare and fantasy calls out, “Go away!”

Not unusual for Amren. She tells guests to go away, even when she’s invited them.

So you brace a hand against the door and call back, “It’s me.”

There’s a beat. And then small footsteps are padding closer. There are the sounds of bolts being undone, locks clicking. Whatever it is Amren feels she needs keep out is little more than a distant thought as she yanks the door open just a tad and eyes you suspiciously through the gap. Her steely gaze takes in your dress, hair, makeup. She lifts her chin.

“Why are you here?” she asks.

You shrug. Feel a little pathetic as you answer, “I thought I’d come see what you’re up to.”

“Why.”

“Perhaps I find your company to be just slightly more scintillating than Cassian’s.”

At that, there’s the briefest twitch of her lips. She masks it expertly. “A dead rat has more to offer in the way of company than that boy.”

You snort, rubbing at your arms. Goosebumps are pebbling your skin. The air is too brisk to comfortably be stood in for too long.

Amren studies you again, and too quickly for you to register, she’s widening the gap in the door and yanking you in by the front of your dress. She slams the door shut and gets to work refastening the bolts, sliding across the chains, securing every lock. It’s all you can do to stand and watch.

And then she turns to face you with a neutral expression — one that says that if you find anything peculiar about her behaviour, shut the fuck up. You know she won’t tell you what’s got her so on edge, so you don’t bother asking.

Instead, you turn, still rubbing at your chilled skin, and study the general disarray of her huge, open-plan studio apartment. Her bed is unmade, her trinkets and baubles scattered across various surfaces. And on the numerous overlapping rugs that cover the floor, a gathering of books, some stacked in a pile, others tossed aside, a few open on certain pages. It would seem she is spending the night going over your recent research.

“Perhaps a drink?” you ply, angling away from the mess.

She quirks a dark eyebrow. “Tell me, what is it about you and the others barging into my home and making demands of me?”

“I believe it’s customary to offer your guests refreshments.”

“I believe I didn’t ask for guests in the first place.”

Her words, to anyone outside your circle, would sound so sharp, so harsh. But you know Amren, now. That last sentence vaguely translates another meaning: I wasn’t expecting guests, but thank you for coming. Of course I’ll get you a drink.

Not that she’d ever say that in a million fucking years.

She saunters past you, towards the kitchen area. As she goes, she closes the open books and throws them onto the stacks. Picks up empty glasses.

“Don’t clean up on my account,” you say, knowing full well that she isn’t.

“I’m not,” she confirms. “I don’t want your clumsy feet treading on anything,” she places the empty glasses in the sink and turns to you. “What do you want to drink? There’s wine, wine, or wine.”

“I’ll have the wine, then.”

With the barest incline of her head, she turns her back to you. While she’s occupied, you take a moment to study the covered windows, everything that blocks out what’s occurring outside. Even the skylights are covered, and your lips twitch at the thought of her wrestling her way up there to fasten drapes over them.

It’s all so methodical, so thought out. And though you know she’d probably never tell you, you can’t help wanting to break down that barrier and know the more vulnerable side to her that is so unsettled by this holiday.

A glass is placed in your hand, and you clear your throat, ripping your gaze away from the skylight — but not fast enough for Amren not to notice.

“It unsettles me,” she says drily, surprising you.

You try your hardest not to blink at the offered snippet of information. “What does?”

“Starfall. What it is. What it signifies.” Taking a slow sip of her wine, she sits on the rug. You follow suit. “Those stars, beings, whatever you want to call them…they are on a journey. Going from one place to another. Perhaps from one world to another. That was once me.”

“…and that unsettles you…”

“Perhaps I know one of them, from many, many years ago. Perhaps they are an associate of a time and a world long-forgotten. A past friend or foe or—”

“A lover?” you supply. You’re not sure you mean to say it.

But Amren’s grey eyes slide to you, and one side of her mouth lifts into a wicked grin, bearing sharp white teeth. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes. No. I suppose I know nothing of your personal relationships. Of what you like.”

“I like what I like, and I hate what I don’t like.”

You stare at her, thoroughly annoyed and thoroughly entertained. Speaking with Amren is so often trickery and riddles. No matter how much you may feel like you’re getting somewhere, she always leads you on a merry dance that circles you back to the first step.

“And what of you?” she asks, surprising you.

Your eyes snag on the way her razor-sharp black hair moves as she angles her head. The ends tickle the column of her long, creamy neck, adorned with a jewelled necklace. For one moment, for some reason, the sight makes your head empty.

But you shake yourself out of the bizarre reaction and ask, “What of me?”

“What do you like?” Amren asks.

You almost snort as you take a long sip of your wine. Amren is simply not somebody who asks questions about other people very often. And the topic of your love life seems like one that would be trivial and pointless to her.

“Are you asking because you want to know?” you smile. “Or to be polite?”

Another flash of those brilliant teeth. “Have you ever known me to be polite?”

“I suppose not, no.”

“So tell me, girl, what takes your fancy?”

Draining your glass, you set it aside and lounge back, bracing yourself on your hands. And perhaps the wine is already commanding your mind and blurring lines — because it tells you to glance down at the full lips in front of you, painted with red that’s deepened by the dark nectar she sips at.

You do.

Amren watches. The air seems to shift.

“Pour me another glass,” your voice comes out huskier than you intend, “and I’ll tell you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Lions?”

Rare, for Amren to sound like anything besides being perpetually bored. An hour or so later — and too many glasses later — the two of you are sprawled back on the rug, staring at the ceiling.

“Helion keeps lions?” she turns her head to quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh in your voice. “Very real, very fucking huge lions.”

“I rather thought that Pegasuses were his thing.”

“They are. But his lions are a prided jewel of his — and a court secret that I absolutely should not be sharing with you.”

Her petite, lithe body rolls onto its side. She crooks her arm at the elbow and rests her chin there, staring at you through glazed, grey eyes.

It takes only a beat of eye contact for you both to break into laughter.

This is…unusual. And nice. Though the two of you have undoubtedly been growing closer, Amren always has a glass wall up that allows you to peer through but not penetrate. Tonight is the first night that you feel that…that you might be on the other side of that wall. That she might be letting her guard down for you.

You like it. A lot.

The laughter thinning out, she stares at you. It’s a little strange to see those sharp, angled features not appear harsh and ready to slice at anyone. She appears…open. Almost normal.

“Lions,” she repeats, in something like wonderment. “And they just roam about his private estate? Are they tame?”

“He has sprawls of private land on which they can roam freely,” you tell her. “That land is guarded very well, from anyone he doesn’t wish to share the sight with. The lions are very tame. There’s a rumour — though I never got Helion to confirm it — that they once walked on two legs and spoke our language. That thousands of years ago, a curse bound them to their feline form that even Helion’s vast libraries hold no answer to cracking. And since they weren’t able to break the curse, he and his predecessors set to ensure that they would, at least, always be safe and accommodated and able to live comfortably as they are. If it’s true, they seem perfectly happy in their lion bodies.”

“So Helion allowed you access to them? What are they like?”

You smile — at the images that the question conjures up, and the fact that you hold Amren’s interest enough for her to ask it at all. It makes you feel…proud, somehow. Like the cat that got the cream.

“Amazing,” you rest your arms behind your head, taking yourself back to that private land on which you spent so much time — just you and the lions. “They’re just…regal. The males have huge, brilliant manes. The females are so lithe and elegant. The cubs are painfully adorable. There are families of them. Sometimes, they fight. Often, they play. They love to snooze in the sun and frolic in the long grass. The youngsters love splashing each other in the lake. If they recognise you as someone they can trust, you can comfortably sit with them and stroke their fur. They especially like you if you bring them food.”

There’s such a long pause as Amren takes in your words that after a short while, your eyes slide to her, half expecting to find her asleep. But she simply stares at you. Quiet. Assessing.

“I think I would like to see lions,” she says after a moment. To her, it seems to be a huge confession. Something not easy to admit.

You study the perfect lines of her face. That face that appears in your thoughts when you’re trying to sleep, think about absolutely anything but her. You’re not sure you like how drawn you are to her. She’s so unreachable that it only makes you reach harder. So difficult to work out that sometimes, you question if she delights in your company at all.

It is, after all, you who always seeks her out. Since you began your research together, it’s been you who has found excuses to see her.

You who barged your way into her home tonight, while stars collided above you.

And you who might do something unwise if you stay any longer.

You clear your throat, breaking eye contact. Your head feels as though it’s filled with cotton as you sit up and announce, “Perhaps I should go.”

Amren pauses. “Why?”

“I didn’t mean to take up your entire evening.”

“You could stay,” she also sits up, tucking her legs beneath her. “You never did tell me what it is you like.”

You take a moment to just…breathe. You’re not used to Amren being so…warm. It’s dangerous. Exciting. You don’t know if it’s safe.

Slowly, you turn on the floor to face her. “I’m not sure you’d appreciate the answer.”

A dark eyebrow arches. She likes doing that. “Tell it to me anyway.”

Should you? Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe you’ll tell her that thoughts of her keep you awake, not in the forms of nightmares but in the allure of fantasies. Maybe then she’ll cease all work she does with you, and distance herself from you, and you can rid yourself of these feelings—

“You are what I like,” you speak quickly, flushing hot. “Who I like. I was thankful when Rhysand tasked us to work together, because I was already drawn to you. It seems I can’t stay away—”

A flash of dark hair, the potent scent of perfume and wine, are the only warnings you get before Amren is in your face, her perfect mouth sliding over yours. Wine is the overpowering taste of the kiss, but there are hints of other things behind it — sweet vanilla and something floral.

It takes you by surprise, no doubt. But you push the shock away and sink into the rightness of it. Your shoulders slump, body loosening. You slide a hand up to tentatively cup Amren’s cheek, and you kiss her back.

What starts out slow and explorative quickly builds into something that steals the very air from your lungs. Your bodies seem to move in perfect synchronisation, finding the right positions from which the kiss can deepen and grow. Amren kneels between your legs, and a sharp tooth gives the slightest, twinging bite to your lower lip — one that makes you gasp.

The act is deliberate. She slides her tongue into your mouth, folding it around yours. Your tastes mingle until you’re not sure which is yours and which is hers, and that simply will not do. You want her on your tongue. The flavour of her skin and that scent of hers that is quickly growing stronger, thicker, shifting into something else that you would commit sins to taste.

Your fingers sink into Amren’s hair, and she makes a low noise that could be a warning or a plea. The strands, despite always looking sharp enough to slice through rock, are silken, soft. You fist them in your palm and tilt her head back to kiss her deeper.

But she pulls away, her heavy breaths landing on your lips. Her eyes meet yours, and it’s the first time you see her looking anything besides…steeled. Composed.

She looks flustered. Like pulling away from your mouth was the last thing she wanted to do.

“I don’t know what this means,” she blurts.

The admission makes you pause. You agree, “Neither do I.”

“No—not just this. What you do to me. I don’t know what any of this means,” she narrows her eyes at you, almost accusatory. “Emotions like these have always felt pointless to me, but you…”

“…but me?”

“You…” the word is leaden on her tongue. “You are different.”

Her gaze slides to your mouth again, and you can tell that her comfort is in articulating her feelings with actions, not words.

And that is just fine by you.

Like she reads the encouragement straight from your thoughts, a breathy word escapes her. “Yes.”

And then she’s fastening her lips on yours again and stamping out every shred of confusion. No matter what either of you are unable to say, the dance of your mouths can speak it all. For now, no more than that is necessary.

Amren kisses you, and you kiss her. It’s deep, desperate, yearning. It’s bigger than anything and everything. The stars that race through the sky pale in comparison.

This is the real beauty of this night. The real thing you had hoped for. It could end no better way.

You kiss until your mouths are bruised and tender. Until the taste of wine is gone, and there’s nothing but the two of you on your tongues. For all you know, the rest of the world outside this apartment could have disappeared. You’re not sure you care.

You’re the one to pull away this time, but you don’t move far. You part your lips to gulp down breaths and press your forehead to Amren’s. Your voice is a rasp as you joke, “You better not be kissing me just so I’ll show you the lions.”

She laughs — actually laughs. It’s a short, brusque chortle, but it makes you glow with pride.

But she quickly sobers. Her face is serious once more, her eyes drinking you in.

“I’m kissing you, girl,” she says, “because I think about you too much. Because the very first time I laid eyes on you, it scared me — what I might do to look at you forever.”

You try to mask your surprise. You hadn’t realised—

“It was me who suggested to Rhysand that you and I should work together,” she admits. She pulls back a little, as if urging you to read the honesty on her face. “It felt pathetic and foolish, but I did it to be close to you. I can’t stop myself wanting to be close to you.”

Exactly the same feelings you had tortured yourself with all this time. To think that Amren had agonised over it just as you had is comforting, somehow.

You reach out a hand, pinching a strand of her soft hair between your fingers. She watches the action closely.

“Don’t stop yourself wanting it,” you say, not at all sure that it isn’t a plea. “Don’t stop yourself, when I want it, too.”

“…I’m not used to being…unsure of things.”

“Embrace it,” you offer a smile. “Have fun with it.” With me.

She stares at you, brooding and calculating. You wait for her to decide that this is too out of the realms of familiarity. She won’t allow herself to be so vulnerable.

But then she moves her hand to yours — the one still touching her hair. Slowly, tentatively, she laces your fingers together. She stares down at your joined hands as though the sight is alien, fascinating.

“Stay,” she eventually says, glancing up at you. There’s an undertone in her voice, an inference.

“…the entire night?” you hedge. You try to keep the hopefulness out of your tone.

Her red lips lift into a smirk, grey eyes glimmering. “On one condition.”

“Name your price.”

Your heart picks up as she leans in again. Her hair tickles your cheek, and she watches closely as your skin flushes at the proximity. Her lips hover against yours.

But instead of kissing you, she whispers four words that land straight on your waiting mouth.

“Show me the lions.”

#starfall week #starfall week 2024 #starfall #amren #amren acotar #amren x reader #amren fic #acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar fic #prompt

181 notes · View notes

gffa · 4 months

Text

THE HIGH REPUBLIC CHECKLIST: If you want to consume these in order, I really like Youtini's High Republic Reading Order list for being extremely comprehensive and solidly updated for Phase III+ or the more middle-ground comprehensive High Republic guide from starwars.com or Wookieepedia generally does a good job putting things in individual release order. This post is just a checklist of what's available and not quite a reflection of read order. (Which I generally suggest following release order, not chronological order, given that you're often meant to know/not know certain things.) Possibly missing a short story here or there, but assume the novels are in read order for each given phase and that it's a useful list for remembering what you have/haven't read yet!

MAIN STORYLINE NOVELS - PHASE I:

The High Republic: Light of the Jedi

The High Republic: A Test of Courage

The High Republic: Into the Dark

The High Republic: The Rising Storm

The High Republic: Race To Crashpoint Tower

The High Republic: Out Of The Shadows

The High Republic: Mission to Disaster

The High Republic: The Fallen Star

The High Republic: Midnight Horizon

MAIN STORYLINE NOVELS - PHASE II:

The High Republic: Path of Deceit

The High Republic: Convergence

The High Republic: Quest for the Hidden City

The High Republic: Cataclysm

The High Republic: Quest for Planet X

The High Republic: Path of Vengeance

MAIN STORYLINE NOVELS - PHASE III:

The High Republic: The Eye of Darkness

The High Republic: Escape From Valo [UPCOMING]

The High Republic: Defy The Storm [UPCOMING]

The High Republic: Temptation of the Force [UPCOMING]

The High Republic: Beware the Nameless [UPCOMING]

The High Republic: Tears of the Nameless [UPCOMING]

The High Republic: Trials of the Jedi [UPCOMING]

The High Republic: A Valiant Vow [UPCOMING]

The High Republic: Into the Light [UPCOMING]

MAIN STORYLINE COMICS - PHASE I:

The High Republic (2021) - 15 issues

The High Republic Adventures (2021) - 13 issues

The High Republic: The Monster of Temple Peak - 4 issues

The High Republic: The Edge Of Balance - 2 manga volumes

The High Republic: Trail of Shadows - 5 issues

The High Republic: Eye of the Storm - 2 issues

MAIN STORYLINE COMICS - PHASE II:

The High Republic: The Blade - 4 issues

The High Republic (2022) - 10 issues

The High Republic Adventures (2021) - 8 issues

The High Republic: Edge of Balance: Precedent - 1 manga volume

The High Republic Adventures: The Nameless Terror - 4 issues

MAIN STORYLINE COMICS - PHASE III:

The High Republic: Shadows of Starlight - 4 issues

The High Republic (2023) - 2 issues [ONGOING]

The High Republic (2022) - 1 issue [ONGOING]

The High Republic Adventures – Saber for Hire 4 issues [UPCOMING]

MAIN STORYLINE AUDIODRAMAS - PHASE I:

The High Republic: Tempest Runner

MAIN STORYLINE AUDIODRAMAS - PHASE I:

The High Republic: The Battle of Jedha

ONESHOT COMIC ISSUES - PHASE I:

Star Wars Adventures (2020) #6 - "The Gaze Electric"

The High Republic Adventures: Free Comic Book Day 2021

The High Republic Adventures Annual 2021

The High Republic Adventures: Galactic Bake-Off Spectacular

Star Wars Adventures (2020) #14 - "A Very Nihil Interlude"

The High Republic Adventures: Free Comic Book Day 2023

ONESHOT COMIC ISSUES - PHASE II:

The High Republic Adventures: Quest of the Jedi

ONESHOT COMIC ISSUES - PHASE III:

The High Republic Adventures: Crash Landing [UPCOMING]

ANTHOLOGY NOVELS - PHASE I:

Star Wars: The High Republic: Starlight - Anthology of Insider short stories. [Includes "Go Together", "First Duty", "Hidden Danger", "Past Mistakes", and "Shadows Remain"]

ANTHOLOGY NOVELS - PHASE II:

Star Wars Insider: The High Republic: Tales of Enlightenment - Anthology of Insider short stories. [Includes "New Prospects", "A Different Perspective", "The Unusual Suspect", "No Such Thing as a Bad Customer", "Last Orders", "Missing Pieces", and author interviews.]

ANTHOLOGY NOVELS - ALL PHASES:

The High Republic: Tales of Light and Life [Includes "The Queen's Bloom", "A Closed Fist Has No Claws", "Shield of the Jedi", "The Lonely Traveler is Home", "After the Fall", "The Force Provides", "All Jedi Walk Their Own Path", "Light in the Darkness", "The Call of Coruscant", and "Rogue Element"]

#lumi.txt #star wars #the high republic

264 notes · View notes

epilogue-and-prologue · 8 months

Text

Affections

Fandom: The Hobbit Ship/Pairing: Thranduil x F!Reader Trope: Unrequited love that’s requited after all Note: No idea. I probably made heavy mistakes in the mythology. Don't hesitate to point them out if need be. Warnings: Miscommunication, father-son relationship, rejection Word count: 6 282 Tag-list: @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @middleearthpixie @glassgulls @evenstareditd @fizzyxcustard @sotwk

“Legolas!”

Seeing your friend after so many years made you so happy, your eyes were watering even before you could feel his arm embracing you.

“My dear friend. I am so glad you could finally come home.”

Decades earlier, the young prince and you had learned and grown together under the watchful eye of the Mirkwood. Small ones were a rarity, but two at the same time almost never happened. Once an adult, it became clear you needed to leave the palace’s grounds and see the world for yourself. The only kin you had left was your aunt Ede, and she encouraged you to go, despite being torn upon your departure.

Now, finally, you were coming back to your place of birth, filled with new memories and new experiences. During the war, you were following the refugees, learning medicine and healing amongst them as you had for the past decade. Fortunately, this knowledge became of vital importance after the conflict and here you were, talking animatedly with the Crowned Prince, sharing adventures and stories.

“I am sure your father must not have taken kindly to that friendship.”

Legolas laughed, his long hair moving with the winds around.

“No, he did not. Gimli is a close friend of mine and I would not allow him to be treated with the disrespect my father is so easily using. — Still. Of all the people present in the Company, the only one you find to be a friend is the son of Gloin? The very last member of Thorin Oakenshield’s entourage? — I did not choose, you know. And…”

Before he could finish his sentence, you stopped your steps. The place had grown so much since you last were there. The tallest trees reached peaks you could not see anymore, cutting into the sky slices of clouds and sunshine. The hall around you felt heavier. More grounded in stone than in wood. Ravages of the Great War had reached even here, it seemed. From the stairs in front of you, a tall she-elf, with her dark auburn hair and her proud stature, was staring right. Your feet guided you to her in a hurry. Her embrace felt like a warm bath, smelling of lavender and a quiet temperance you needed in that moment. Ede was one of a kind. She was the one who had taught you the basics to healing and the plants, as well as the stars. Your mother had been a valiant soldier of the King’s army. She perished on the front of the battle of the Five Armies. Ede became a support and an ally in the pain of her loss. It made you two grow closer, especially when her brother - your father - left for the Shores after his wife died. He did not see the future in as much brightness as he used to and did not want to become a hindrance for you. It was with the certainty of meeting him again that you let him go.

“Aunt Ede, I have missed you so much. It is a genuine pleasure to see you. — As it is for me, child.”

She pushed a strand of hair back, watching you intently with those profound dark eyes of hers. Once Legolas reached you, he saluted the Royal Healer before leaving the both of you, a soft smile on his face. You spent the rest of the day walking around and rediscovering the grounds with your aunt. They had planted bigger gardens next to the Healers Quarters. A gardener had been appointed specifically for them, allowing time and space for the now withering Ede. She was growing tired more easily and, despite her appearances, was becoming more depressed by the day. Her work was never done in this place, being the sole reference for every other healer in the woods and sometimes outside of the country and into others. Everyday that passed made her long for her home in Rivendell. Her husband had gone back the year before and the separation was taking another toll on her, time only making it worse. At the first signs of dusk, she brought you to your room, next to her own. It contained a simple bed and a desk as well as two tall windows, looking out on the garden below. The bag you carried when you arrived finally found a space to rest too next to the neat sheets.

“Child, I bid you goodnight. We shall talk more in the morning. -Yes, my aunt. I wish you pleasant dreams and a restful sleep.”

She kissed your forehead, smiled and closed the door behind her. Soon you crumbled into the heavenly made bed, but could not find sleep. After all, the real reason of why you left had been kept secret from everyone. Including yourself. You were becoming more agitated with every minute passing before meeting the King. You had not left on particularly good terms with him, a show of restraint on your part, inclining you to keep quiet and move on. Nevertheless, the memory kept replaying in your mind, as you felt yourself drift into a soundless sleep.

In autumn, the leaves fell, and Legolas was in the trees. Well, one tree. The tallest at the time, a great oak with leaves reaching into the sky as if trying to touch it. The Prince loved to climbed its branches, storm or high wind was of no matter to him, wanting to admire the sky more than anything. Also, it was the only place his father would not think of searching him in. Lately he had been adamant in having his son with him at all times, protected and locked in, close to him where he could not be lost. Or killed. That oak was where you found him.

“My Prince, I am afraid your kingly father will be upset with both of us if you do not come down this instant.”

Silence. Thranduil had asked you personally to go in search of his son. Out of the two of you, you were in appearances the more mature one. Even now young adults, you could not help yourselves and hid from each of your parents whenever you could, spending most of your times observing the wood’s life. The fleeting murmurs of the trees settled, leaving a melody of singing birds behind. Soon, he came down, looking sheepish.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to cause my father’s anger towards you. — No need to apologise. I understand why you would want to hide. Yet, you can not do so forever Legolas.”

He nodded, following you back inside. His father had grown tensed and tired after his wife’s death. Her warmth was the heart of the forest and once she was gone, every winter became colder and colder. The King only grew more weary of the outsiders, leaving no choice but to close the borders to most of them. You knew him in happier times, grew with his son and should have grown attached to the Prince. Yet, in your heart, Thranduil had the only space you could allow to be filled. It had pained you to acknowledge it, more so when Legolas’ mother passed. A voice inside wanted you to reach out and to pull the pain away from him. From them both, but you could not. As well as Thranduil’s borders closed, his mind and soul did too. For the longest time, he retreated so far inside that no one could reach in. Not even his son. Your arm looped around Legolas’ shoulders, trying to comfort him however you could.

“Do not fret. He was scared to death you broke your neck. Once he sees you intact maybe he’ll calm down”

It did seem to make him chuckle at least, as he leaned into you. You felt ashamed feeling this way towards a brother’s kin. It was a torment you would not wish on anyone not even your greatest enemy. It became a soft agony and then a feeling deeply buried. Sometimes, you hoped you would find yourself looking at Legolas the same way you looked at Thranduil. It never happened and you grieved the proper relationship that would never be. It had been talked about, making a match between the two of you. The Prince could have been inclined. Your own affections lead you to say no, to the disarray of your parents and Legolas’ poor heart. He never resented you for it but you did. You resented yourself so much it blinded the young spirit you had into biding yourself to this place, when nothing new could be learned, nothing new could be seen. No new love would grow. Ede had mentioned leaving before. The idea was taking roots but Thranduil’s actions were the final push into the adventure of your life.

Upon arriving in the King’s room, you caught onto three things. The first, he was still worried sick, apparently repeatedly pacing the room with no signs of stopping soon. The second was that once he saw his son, he embraced him, where you had seen him lash out in anger at others. The third, you were sure that when his eyes landed on you, he would burn you right where you stood. He took his time, checking if his son was alright if he was injured, who’s idea was it to go out and hide like that. Once his nerves settled, he dismissed Legolas, closely watched over by two guards. As the Prince left the room, you shared a soft smile, already knowing what was bound to happen. Once he was gone, the air left the room and the reprieve you had ended right there.

“How dare you?”

Thranduil’s voice was carrying across the room. He was standing as far away as possible from you, as if trying to avoid catching a disease you had.

If only that was the reason, he would sleep better nights. Not watching the stars peak and go down every morning, growing mad with every time he saw you. He knew it was, in truth, for another set of reasons entirely. His body was betraying him. His heart ached in the most delicious ways, retreating from its hiding place. He would have thought it dead if it weren’t for you. You with your sharp mind and loud laughter. You who had a spirit all of your own. You who were the oldest friend and confident his son had. How could he feel that way for you, he never wanted to know. It would have meant accepting he nourished feelings for you. He watched you grow and become a mighty warrior and a spirited young elf. Once well in adulthood though, that was only then that he noticed you. Before that you were a shadow compared to his wife’s memory. He saw and perceived all too well your longing looks and tight smile for him only to see. It touched his otherwise dead heart. The pain of knowing that it could never be and the blossoming feelings he carried for you were growing inside of him intertwined. Now, your eyes haunted him at night, hot and feverish, lingering in his mind. He longed to be touched by you, when he knew he should not have. The remorse was ever present. What would she think of all of this? She would want him happy, cared for and content. He wanted it too. He would not yield, not crumble under your stare. He had to protect his people from disappointment in their ruler. He could not afford jeopardising his rule so. Even for your beautiful mind and gorgeous soul.

“How dare you compel my son into acting so? You and your ideas! Of course you were the one to give him such ideas about freedom and… — Your Majesty, with all due respect, I gave him what he asked of me, nothing else.”

He was livid. What he asked of you? A jealousy he had forgotten the name of, formed in his stomach, giving his wrath a fuel to keep on burning. What did he ask of you? What did you ask of him?

“How could you? You are full of yourself. Arrogant. Reckless. Do you not know the influence you have over him? How dangerous that could be?”

He could see you, bowing your head, biting your tongue. He drove the knife deeper still, wanting you to react, to do something. Anything was better than you not reacting at all. Especially to him. The cruel intentions in him a reflection of his frustrated state at seeing you and not touching you.

“Answer me!”

The scream rang through your body. Teeth clenched, you had been biting your tongue this entire time, not wanting to make this situation worse. Although, he was on the right path for it to get worse.

“Why would I? You seem to have all the answers already! About your son, about me!” You kept on going, even as he stepped closer and closer to you, domineering and hovering over you. “He needs to experience life! If you can not give him that, at least give this to his mother!” This touched a nerve, his face darkening with fury. Where he knew you were right, he wanted to make you quiet. Those truths either he was not ready to hear. “She would certainly not want her only son to go to the Shores having never touched life with his own hands. Never fighting for what he believes in, never seeing the sun high in the sky or never feeling the touch of a lover, because of you. Sire, you cannot keep him in a gilded cage like this. Either you let him go or he will escape.”

He was invading your private space now. You could not look up. You would not look up.

“How would you know how to care for a child who is not your own? — I know him better than you think.”

Better than you lingered in the air, unsaid, deeply felt. His long fingers gripped your jaw pulling your eyes along them, then his deep burgundy robe before meeting his darkened pupils. He narrowed his eyes, the very tip of his fingers were burning with the yearning of touching you. He could not give in. He would not give in.

“Do you now?”

His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, in what was supposed to be a show of power. Both of you knew it was not, still thinking the other to not know about it. His teeth bit lightly into your earlobe before you could stop him. Frozen in place, you did nothing when his lips drew goosebumps down your throat. In a swift movement, he sucked a deep bruise into your skin. You cried out as he held your face in place, merciless in his grip. It was not a cry of displeasure and that surprised him. As your hand gripped the one holding your face, he searched your expression looking for a momentary lapse in judgement. Maybe something to stop him. Something to tell him this was wrong. He found nothing of the sort. He slid his fingers from your jaw to your cheeks, finding comfort into the plump and supple skin of your face, before all but tearing himself apart by kissing you. You kissed him in return, feverish and wanting. Too soon, he stopped. Disgusted with himself, he turned around, hurting like never before. His weakness was showing, all too visible to his own eyes.

“Go. Now. And never come back. — Sire…”

Your voice was but a whisper, the fluttering of your heart where his skin had met yours turning your whole body into a beating drum.

“Leave! Leave and never show your face again!”

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You did not let them and left the room, closing the door as hard as you could behind you. Once in your room, everything went blank. Almost as if on drugs, mechanically, you gathered your things, warned your aunt of your departure. She did not question it. She knew of your yearning to leave and did not stop you either. Only accompanied you to the main road, wishing you farewell and a heartfelt goodbye. Legolas received a delayed goodbye, by letter. He was angry with you, but understood. You never told him about what happened and it said a lot about his forgiving nature that he did not hold that hurt against you today. She figured Thranduil might have something to do with it when the next day he asked about you. He seemed hurt beyond measure when she told him you were gone, almost surely never to return.

The first rays of the sun sneaked through the glass windows, shades and hues of red and yellows nesting into the corners of the room. After a change of clothes and a frugal breakfast, you accompanied Ede to the gardens along with her pupils, witnessing the classes she gave to elves from all backgrounds and all horizons. Midday approached and she took you aside after leaving her students.

“Child, we need to talk. — Yes, aunt Ede. What do we need to talk about?”

Her next words startled you as much as they turned your world upside down.

“I will be direct, my child. I need you to replace me, here, at the palace. I need you to become the next Royal Healer.”

Ede and you had carried that conversation long into the night. She was adamant that it was you who was supposed to carry on in her place. On the other hand you were less than convinced. Especially considering that she always described the task as a burden - more so in the last years. You would not negotiate with her and complained, exposed, revealed what you feared and felt unable to do. She would hear none of it. Her sole purpose here was to give her place to you, of that she was certain. Deep within her a longing of her home had taken root and she had wanted to leave for a long time. If only for her sake, you had no other choice but to do what she asked. For your own, you would have to face Thranduil when that day would come. Maybe, it was for the best. You could not stay in this place of ignorance and avoidance. A quick walk through the garden and you found yourself, face to face with Legolas, all smiles and a hint of mischief in his eyes you were worried about.

“Good morning to you. -And good morning to you, my friend.”

His smile did not falter as he proposed to accompany you through the palace, talking animatedly as usual, until finally you reached the healers quarters.

“I do have a question though. — Yes, what is it?”

As he opened his mouth to say something, he closed it again, his eyes drawn to something - or rather someone - in the room behind you. The door had been left ajar. Distinctively you could see Thranduil’s back and when he stepped aside, your aunt Ede too. Her brows were furrowing and her lips were pinched in a thin line. That could not be any good. The King on the other hand, was towering over her, rolling his eyes and pinching his nose every time she spoke as you would do with a child. That, that was intolerable. Legolas tried to stop you, his hand slipping from your arm only to be left bewildered and strangely, amused, when you stepped inside, slamming the door open.

“Your Majesty. Aunt Ede.”

You bowed your head as he observed you from head to toe. Since that night, it was the first time he was seeing you again. As you, him. A beating sound rang in your ears. His sharp eyes looked down upon you, considering your face, your lips. He stopped and turned towards Ede again.

“Your Majesty, this is… — We shall talk about it at another time. ”

She bowed and did not dare question his statement. He stepped out of the room without another word, only mildly surprised at finding his son at the door. He inherited his need to meddle in other’s affairs from his mother. It both amused him and annoyed him to no end.

* “Ede, what was that about? — Oh, nothing. Have you eaten yet? I was hoping we could eat together and talk some more about your new position?”

There was no negotiating her. Soon, she led you towards a secluded spot under a willow tree you used to hide in when you were a mere child. It’s blooming branches looked smaller now, even when surrounding both of you in its fresh shadows.

“Aunt, please tell me what this talk was about. With the King.”

Ede sighed, plugging some grapes from her bag. She stalled, settling down cheeses and bread at a luxuriously slow pace.

“Aunt… — Yes, I know. Listen, it is a matter between the King and I and… — Was it about me? — Sort of.”

You snorted loudly, startling a few birds in the tree.

“What do you mean? — It was about my replacement. He disagrees with my choice.”

That should not have stung as much as it did.

“And I told him that I would not be changing my mind anytime soon. And that you would be taking my place in three weeks time as per what was planned. — Wait… Three weeks? From now? It’s too soon, Ede.”

She shushed you with a finger against your lips, as she did when you were younger.

“No discussion, no negotiation.”

She proceeded to tell you all about the Royal Healer’s position. You were to tend to the Royal Family, anytime day or night, big or small wounds. Fondly, she recalled a time when Legolas was still small, and had fallen off of a tree, breaking his wrist. He had been restless for the long process of the cast and even more when he had to not use his arm for weeks after that. Being light of foot was not something you were born with and he had mastered it with numerous injuries and various broken bones. You recalled the infinite patience his father had to show. The prince was not as quiet and calm as he was now. She kept on with an extended list of places you were expected to go and help, as well as the palace. Indeed, she had taken it upon herself to replace the old healers in all the neighbouring villages. Most of them had been replaced, yet there was still work to do and new persons to train. At the first lights descending in the sky, she excused herself, exhausted that she was. She kissed your temple and walked away.

Your room felt smaller once you reached its bed. The walls seemed to be getting closer with each moment and soon, you could not stand it any longer. The night had just settled, the first stars showing above. Without much thinking, your feet wandered around the place, finding bushes and crannies, the deep river you knew. Several times, you passed by the willow you had eaten under earlier that day. Somehow, it drove you to its shelter, the rays of the moon shining through the leaves, giving the place an eerie and melancholic air.

Carefully you immersed yourself in this small reprieve of the world.

What you did not know was that you were not alone, sneaking around at night, unable to sleep.

* Once done with the argument, Thranduil had left the infirmary in a hurry, not wanting to dwell in a room where you were. Inadequacy was not something he was fond of feeling. Legolas followed him back to his chambers. He could sense his son’s amusement from behind him. When he turned around, stepping into his bedroom, the very same son had the audacity to laugh wholeheartedly.

“You do remember you owe me allegiance, even as my son and heir.”

The elf struggled to gain back his composure and nod. Finally he had come to his senses.

“Yes, Father. Although I choose to find our relationship into its more domestic issues than its governmental ones.”

Or not.

“Legolas, I swear on your mother’s grave if you do not explain why you are mocking me I will send you to an early retirement deep in the forest with nothing but bread and water to survive, as well as the animals to keep you company.”

That made him stop. Thranduil’s threats were always outlandish. They were also never made in vain or carelessly. Legolas stepped closer to his father, leaning in as in confidence. The King’s eyebrow lifted in a show of not being impressed. From where he was sat, he could see the sparkle in his son’s eyes. The one that meant no good.

“Your affections are showing, father. — My…”

If he had not been angry to begin with, he might have been now. He thought back to that night and could not wash away the culpability creeping in. After you had left, he had spent sleepless nights, without an end to his thoughts about what he could have done worse. Never better. In fact, he had come to the conclusion that where you were concerned, things was to be left alone. A sort of status quo, left undisturbed. Nevertheless, he stayed quiet. The silence worried Legolas.

“Father, I never meant any harm. — I know.”

He couldn’t face Legolas anymore, a veil covering his vision. The King felt the weight of the past years weighing him down, sitting in that chair behind this table, his future in the eyes of his only child. How much he had wished there had been other children with her. Legolas was as perfect now as he was when he was born but he was alone. He released a heavy sigh.

“Sit.”

Legolas obeyed, fearing something worse than a stern talking to.

“Nothing is ever meant to happen between…” The name on his tongue travelled down his throat to his heart. He chocked on it. “It is not meant to be, my son. Of my own fault. No harm can come to her. Not more than the one I have already done.”

Questions began plaguing the prince’s mind, almost wondering aloud what his father could have done to deserve your absence and his longing. In a way, those questions were answered shortly after he thought them up.

“I was the one who chased her away. — You…”

Thranduil’s hand stopped him. It barely lifted in the air, before resting again.

“In a very unkind manner. The behaviour I had was… Unworthy.”

No other words were necessary for he was one to choose them precisely. His close circle knew that. That knowledge was what made his son get up and look at him, with so much disappointment in his eyes he could have made his father drown in it if he so much as wished it. Legolas did not have any will in himself to do so. Instead, he channelled this frustration and shame into his words, chosen carefully as he had been taught to, many times before.

“Did you even try to talk with her? — No. — Why?”

His tone had taken a harsh turn, startling Thranduil in his immobility. No good excuse came to mind. He had been afraid and incapable of voicing his apologises. With you gone, gone was the possibility of redemption. Now that you were here again, he could try. Legolas’ mother was still in his mind, chastising him for his actions. He had come to accept that he would never forget her. That she would remain his conscience for the years to come, the years until his disappearance from this Earth. He had known her for so long, she would always be there. Telling him when he was doing wrong too. Even if it was with the voice of their only child, now grown, looking at him with something akin to violence in his eyes.

“She is out there, thinking she has done something wrong, when you could have freed her from that burden long ago. That, father, is not an unworthy behaviour. That is the behaviour of a coward. — How dare you speak to me in such a way? I am still your King… — Not as long as you behave like this, you’re not.”

He strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. His words resonated against the walls and the mind of the one left behind. A deep frown settled on his forehead, erasing all traces of previous fury. A weary hand pinched his nose, narrowing his eyes at his own anger. In a careless gesture, Thranduil pushed everything off of the table before him. Papers, ink, quills… everything went flying across the room. The only thing left were his hands gripping the edges of the table, ready to throw it too. Soon, he found himself crying silent tears, trying desperately to stop them from falling. His hands were shaking, a whole body tremor going through him, as sobs escaped him. This had to stop. A knock at the door interrupted him in his misery. Quickly he composed himself and followed the council servant outside, attending absentmindedly the meeting he was supposed to preside over. Legolas’ absence thrust another surge of sadness, pure and raw, through him. His absence only making him think about yours. In this scenario, he could lose you both. He could have none of it.

Once the first rays of sunshine started disappearing behind the clouds and down the horizon line, his feet brought him to his son’s chambers. He had to at least try to make this right.

* Under the willow tree, you laid, head resting against the trunk, eyes up in the sky. Sleep would still elude you, in the most peaceful ways this time. The clouds were moving with the winds, hiding and showing the numerous constellations up above. A rustling of leaves brought you back to solid ground quickly. Someone had found your hiding place, of all the places in the palace.

“Legolas? What are you doing here?”

The shadow did not answer, only advanced and stepped in the moonlight. It was indeed Legolas, but his eyes were different. A solemn toll had taken hold upon them and it was strange, if not completely out-worldly to watch him be this serious.

“I fear, the same as you. I could not sleep. — How did you find me?”

He did not answer right away, throwing a glance behind him before looking back at you.

“I followed you.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. His steps had gotten more silent with the years, apparently. From your room to this place, you had not heard him once, not even in the gravel or the grass.

“Listen, I am here…” He hesitated a moment. “I did not meant to follow you. It was the only way. The most opportune one. There are things you need to talk about. I thought that if I was the first to show, you would feel less incline in running. — The first to show?” Fear ran through you. “What have you done Legolas? — I talked with my father.” Something sank within you. “About you.”

Your voice died in your throat. “I never meant to overstep my position, as your friend. I was worried about what he could have done to warrant such guilty actions from him. — What actions? Wait. Did he tell you…?”

Thranduil’s voice interrupted you both. His tall stature loomed over, albeit hunching over to pass through the leaves and come to you.

“Legolas, would you leave us for a moment, please.”

The gentleness in his tone surprised you. It seemed it was a normal occurrence for the Prince who reached and squeezed your arm reassuringly before leaving with a bow of his head.

“I believe we have much to talk about.”

Neither of you said another word, before he stepped forward and sat down next to you. It felt awkward to see your King in such an informal setting. You could see the discomfort it brought him to be this close to you. You were about to get up and go, when his hand pinned yours to the space between the two of you. Stunned, you looked at him straight on. He avoided your gaze at all costs, not taking the risk to say hurtful things again, out of spite. Out of fear.

“My rank demands an exemplary behaviour and it seems I have failed in that task.”

Your breath caught in your throat, you kept staring at his profile, making it hard for him to keep going. Through greeted teeth he added more words you never thought you would hear from him.

“My actions towards you were nothing short of ungraceful and puerile. You have my deepest apologies.”

Finally, he looked at you, tall and head held high. That was as far as he would go. Legolas might have had a hand in that forsaken apology. It was a needed humiliation, if he was to keep you in his court. With him. Near him.

“Sire, you have my sincerest thanks for this. There was no need for you to do so and you demonstrated a great kindness by this gesture.”

His face relaxed slightly, his jaw unclenching. His hand was still on yours. The feeling erupting from that meeting left you dizzy and energised at the same time.

“Was that all, Sire?”

Thranduil could see the hope on your face. Brows pulled down, frowning around your beautiful haunting eyes, lips pinched in a thin line. What took him over he would never know, for he did not recognise himself behaving like this.

“No. The kingdom is deeply grateful to have you back here with us. This land deserves excellency and perfection. That is why I can be demanding of my people. As well as of you.”

His hand gripped yours. You did not stop him from doing so, letting him finish his thoughts. He seemed to be needing it as much as you. A prickling in your eyes made you withdraw your hand for a moment to wipe it out. Your fingertips erased the tears down your cheeks, while your tongue felt as a leaded weight in your mouth.

“I understand.”

Only then did you put your hand over his, squeezing lightly. A sharp hope ran through him, a knife of helplessness felt deep in his bones. He did not want to recognise the feelings growing inside of him. He knew what they were anyhow.

“Thank you.”

Words ran away in the night. Your eyes found the sky again, the stars and the moon above lighting your way in the dark. He was staring. You could feel it. You kept on looking away, biting your lips and swallowing your tears down your throat. If this was what you could get, then you would take it. At least he was sorry. Your feelings, you could deal with on your own. Thranduil’s stare was boring into you with little care for his heartbeat accelerating. Here he was, sitting in the grass, in the middle of the night, watching someone he thought he had lost. Something to smile about, finally, he thought. He was committing to memory the shape of your nose. The curve of your chin. The apple of your cheeks, the soft trace of your eyebrows. The stubbornness and intelligence hiding in your eyes. As he did back when, his hand slipped down your cheek, bringing you to meet his eyes. He settled in your throat, slender fingers finding their place under your jaw. Half hooded eyes and a sharp inhale from your mouth were all it took for him to meet your lips. Slowly, both his hands came to cradle your face.

Then, you were the one to pull away. He frowned, trying to meet your eyes. You wouldn’t. Cradling his hand against your cheek, you pushed it away. Deep within, the restlessness of your heart had not gone quiet with his words. Only louder, the beating in your chest trashing around, begging to be freed.

“My lord, I… I understand. I really do understand what is at stake, here.”

You met his eyes, full of something you never thought you’d see again. Worry.

“Nonetheless, I want more.”

Thranduil opened his mouth to stop you. You stopped him first, the palm of your hand quietly overtaking his senses, when meeting with his face.

“This. What is happening here, I will not have it hidden away. I cannot. Not after this long. I…” You licked your lips, anxious at his reaction. “I belong to you. In whatever shape or form. But, if you give me this…” The skin of your thumb caressed down, meeting his lips. He had stopped moving. “There will be no going back. All out of the shadows. And, if you break my heart a second time, I will not be coming back.”

For someone with a patient talent for words, the King was left speechless. No proper sentence could carry his meaning. Only gestures, actions and demonstrations of his affection and commitment could. So he did. For the first time with you, he became hesitant, his mouth shaping itself around your throat, your open neck bathed in the moonlight. He clung onto your waist as one would a lifeline, your hands threading through his hair when he kissed you. His hunger and thirst for you was unmatched. Unparalleled. He had forgotten what that felt like.

That night, as many others afterwards, you found yourselves bound together, under the willow.

#thranduil x f!reader #thranduil x reader #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #thranduil x you

406 notes · View notes