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littlejuicebox · 3 months

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Do you miss it, little love?

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for Astarion redemption arc. This is timed a few months after the elf turns mortal. For more info, see “The wish spell worked.” But never fear, you can read it as a one shot if you’re new around these parts.

Rating/Warnings: M, 18+ only, soft smut, fluff, PiV, light breeding kink vibes, light overstim, CW kinda?, soft Astarion

Word Count: —

A/N: They’re so in love guys. Crying in the club.

Warm, slender fingers trace a line across the fang marks on your neck. A single reverent kiss is placed upon the two tiny dots, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

Ten years of memory is a long time. Even though fangs will never be inserted into those small notches again, the mere suggestion of the act is enough to cause your sex to clench. It’s practically an instinct by now; biting and lovemaking had been so intertwined for years.

The sensation of your walls quivering causes your lover to buck his hips forward, burying himself entirely within you. A soft moan escapes his lips as he watches you through thick eyelashes. His face is illuminated in an amber glow by the candles flickering around your bedchamber; his hands are pressed into the silken bedsheets.

He’d just bathed not long ago. His hair is still partly damp and he smells so strongly of his signature scent.

He smells like comfort. He smells like safety.

“Do you miss it, little love?” Astarion asks, voice husky, dripping with lust. He lowers his mouth to your neck again and trails tender kisses to the spot just behind your ear that always makes you purr in delight. The sound causes a satisfied smirk to cross the elf’s face as his breath dances upon your skin.

“Sometimes,” You admit before lifting your hand up to rest it upon your husband’s chest, right by his heart. It beats a steady, stable, mortal thrum nowadays. You gasp when you feel blunted teeth graze against your earlobe before murmuring, “But the trade off is much better.”

Another roll of Astarion’s hips compels you to raise your own, desperate to meet him. Your husband retracts his teeth from your earlobe and moves to tenderly press his lips against yours. It’s a soft, slow, gentle kiss where his tongue barely dips to the entrance of your mouth.

In the warmth of your bed, in the glow of a dozen candles, there’s no need to be eager nor frantic here.

You feel the elf’s heartbeat kick up a few notches as he repeats his slow, deep thrusts, plunging himself into you a few more times. The sensation of his thick length languidly dragging against your walls makes you whine for him.

Astarion lets out an appreciative moan as he buries himself to the hilt within you. Then he ceases his movements entirely, simply reveling in the feeling of you wrapped tightly around him. He breaks the kiss and brings a hand to the side of your face before pressing his forehead against yours.

Another snap of his hips, this one a bit harder. Another breathy moan from you.

“And what, little love, is the best part of the trade off?” He asks in a purr as the hand held to your cheek trails back down to your neck. His nimble fingers lightly, lovingly graze against those pinprick marks again, causing you to shiver once more.

“Besides the most obvious things, like you being able to stand in the sun?” You ask, bringing your other hand to trace along the point of your husband’s ear, causing his breath to catch.

The pinna instantly flushes, as do his cheeks.

“Too many things to name, really. For one, I love watching your ears turn so deliciously pink every time I do this.” You whisper, repeating the motion again and ripping a moan from Astarion in the process.

“I— they’ve gotten more sensitive since the change.” Astarion admits as his eyes roll back into his head when you gently grasp the shell of his ear between your thumb and forefinger.

You hum in acknowledgment as you continue your ministrations. You add a bit more pressure, causing the elf to gasp in delight. A euphoric grin spreads across his face as his eyes shut, focused on the feeling of your hand. It isn’t long before Astarion is rolling his hips again in time with your fingers.

You feel your pleasure building now as his cock begins to pump in and out of you at a steady pace.

“B-but what I’m most excited about is the potential to start a family,” You admit breathlessly, causing Astarion to growl and briskly snap his hips forward, sinking himself so deeply the tip of his cock brushes against your cervix. You keen in a mixture of surprise and delight.

His cheeks are stained pink from his arousal. Gorgeous.

His eyes snap open and he peers down at you through half drooped lids, pupils blown wide with lust. He’s beginning to lose his breath as he changes the angle of his hips just slightly, aiming to hit that perfect little spot inside your sex.

“You want me to put a baby in you, is that it, darling?” Astarion asks, trying desperately to cling to his control. He knows the answer. He just loves to hear it.

“Yes, my love,” You whimper, your eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock presses insistently into your walls.

He’s rutting harder into you now, setting an almost punishing pace. One of his hands comes up to protect your skull from slamming into the headboard from the sheer force of his efforts.

He’s close. The beautiful noises you’re making are almost enough to make him lose it. But he wants you to get there first, wants to push you over the edge so that he can follow.

Before, in instances like this, he would sink his fangs into your flesh and coax a release from you that way. But in the past few months, he’d had to adapt his tactics and find other ways to pleasure you.

He knows you need more.

Your husband presses himself flush against your body and smoothly rolls you both so that you are now astride.

At one point, he never would’ve willingly allowed this loss of control. But the two of you are far past that now.

You are gazing down at your lover, face flushed as you lay your hands on his chest. He angles his hips just so, knowing that when you rock your hips back, the tip of his cock will press right where you want it and when you rock forward, his pelvis will provide perfect stimulation to your clit.

You were made for him.

Or he was made for you.

You two were made for each other.

He smiles softly as he looks up at you, “You are so beautiful.”

You smile at him through hooded lids and then begin to rock your hips, sheathing and unsheathing his length with your sex. Before long you two have found a rhythm that makes both of your mouths drop open in pleasure.

Both of Astarion’s hands come to your hips, and he presses down, adding more pressure, forcing you to grind further into him. He’s guiding your movements now, using the sheer strength of his arms to rock you back and forth atop him.

You gasp and lower your body so that every movement of your pelvis causes your breasts to drag along the elf’s chest. The sensation sends a line of goosebumps trailing up Astarion’s torso.

You bring your hand back to your husband’s ear, gripping onto the lobe. A shocked moan escapes Astarion’s lips and he suddenly bucks, stuttering the rhythm you two have created before finding it again.

“Little love,” He gasps, his eyes rolling back once more, “If you keep doing that I won’t last much longer.”

You don’t respond because you’re so close it’s all you can focus on. A few more rolls of your hips, the sensation of Astarion’s thick cock stretching you wide, and you’re sent over the edge into ecstasy.

You cry out when you reach your peak and your walls begin greedily clenching around your lover. As your orgasm ripples through your body, you grasp harder onto your husband’s ear and pull down slightly.

“Fucking hells—“ He chokes out and then he’s slamming himself into you, pressing his pelvis as close to yours as he can manage with the force of his hands on your hips. You continue to throb around him as he spills his warm seed inside with a loud groan.

You manage to open your eyes and catch the final moments of your husband’s orgasm. His eyes have slammed shut and his mouth is agape. Both his ears are positively red with arousal. He’s still gripping onto you, fingers pressed firmly into flesh as the final ropes of his spend bury themselves in your walls.

Beautiful.

And then suddenly Astarion’s cock becomes over sensitive and he gasps, his thighs are trembling as he uses the last of his energy to continue shakily thrusting into you.

It always feels divine. Perhaps more divine as a mortal than it ever felt as a vampire.

He doesn’t want to stop, despite having already reached his peak.

Your lips press against his and Astarion’s focus is pulled back to you. His hips still as you bring both your hands behind his head, threading your fingers between his damp curls. A contented hum escapes him as he focuses on the tender kiss; you sigh and practically melt into your husband.

After a few moments, you break the kiss and rest your head on his chest, listening to the stable thrum of his heart. One of the elf’s hands comes up to your back while the other rests on your bottom, simply holding you against him. He’s still inside of you, albeit soft. Your mutual arousals begin to drip between the two of you, but it’s no matter.

“Do you miss it, Astarion?” You ask, lifting your head up to peer curiously into your husband’s eyes. They’re green now, not red. But still just as gorgeous.

Astarion hums as he considers, staring back adoringly at you while you bring your hands to card through his curls.

“Sometimes,” He admits, mirroring your confession from earlier, “But like you said, darling, the trade off is much better.”

You positively glow when you beam at him and then he brings a hand to your chin, pulling you back for another soft kiss.

Astarion knew mortal life would certainly be far better than undeath. It already had been these few short months. And creating a new life between the two of you? He knew that would be incomparable.

In this moment, neither of you were aware you already had.

#astarion fanfic #baulders gate astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion x reader smut #smut #astarion reader insert #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!reader #soft astarion #romantic smut #astarion

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 7 months

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The Devil And An Angel

Wanda X Natasha X Reader 18+

Summary: During one of Tony's parties, both of your girlfriends tease you and try to tempt you into giving into your sinful desires.

Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI, Threesome, Strap-ons, Fingering, Oral sex, Double Penetration, Dirty talk, Praise, Squirting, Dom Natasha/Switch Wanda/Switch Reader, Brief Aftercare.

General Masterlist

“Are you really not going to tell me?” you complain, looking between both your girlfriends with a small pout.

“You’ll find out soon enough Kotenok,” Natasha coos, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled at the action before remembering how you were supposed to be acting grumpy.

“But why can’t I know now?” they laugh at how eager you are to find out what they are going to wear. Tony had decided to throw a party tonight, every couple/relationship must dress up as something together to change it up a bit and have some fun. The problem was, your two girlfriends were reluctant to tell you what they were dressing up as and assured you that anything you wore would be fine.

“Because it’s a surprise,” Wanda says while wrapping her arms around your middle and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now go and get ready and we’ll meet you at the party.” Grumbling, you left to go and get ready, imagining what they could have installed for you.

When you arrived at the party you had to give Tony his dues, the party looked amazing and it was a brilliant idea to have people dress up. You looked around trying to figure out what people were meant to be, smiling at how much effort everyone had put in. Steve and Bucky had dressed up as people from the 1940s, their old fashioned clothing probably from their youth. Peter and MJ were dressed as mad scientists, Peter fluffing his hair up to look crazy and constantly checking to see if it was alright, much to MJ’s amusement. Clint looked so done with the whole party despite it just starting, dressed up in a Santa costume that was from when he pretended to be the jolly man at Christmas for his children. Laura wore an elf hat and a simple dress that suited her, but she was too busy trying not to laugh at her husband. Tony and Pepper just looked incredible, their theme most likely meant to scream money and wealth.

Suddenly, you felt two people lean on your shoulders, their different perfumes invading your senses as you turned to look at them. On your left was Natasha who was dressed in a tight red dress that left little to the imagination, devil horns sticking out of her fiery red hair, black, smokey eyeshadow making her eyes pop and a sinister smirk on her face. Wanda was on your right, dressed in a white, flowy dress with a gold halo in her hair, a soft look on her face compared to Natasha. You chuckled at them, dressed as a Devil and an Angel on each of your shoulders.

“You both look beautiful,” the compliment causes them both to smile at you, the two of them having a turn to compliment your choice of clothing as well. You leaned in to give Wanda a kiss, innocent and sweet, and then turned to Natasha who had no shame in sliding her tongue into your mouth, a small moan escaping you at the action.

“Don’t be tempted by her,” Wanda whispered in your ear, her voice soft while her arm interlocked with yours. “Or there will be no reward later.” You stifled the noise that wanted to come out and just watched as Natasha winked at you before walking off.

Wanda and yourself followed behind and you had to try your hardest to not drift your gaze lower on Natasha’s back. The three of you ended up on a sofa talking with Steve and Bucky, them rambling on about a story from their past while you three nodded along. You were paying attention until Natasha moved closer, her mouth on your ear as her breath tickled the side of your face.

“Do you know how hard I want to fuck you right now?” she purred quietly, “Have you trembling with pleasure as I thrust my fingers deep inside you? Or even better, my cock.” You groan at her words, low enough that no one other than Natasha could hear, making her smirk in victory as she works you up. Her hand grips your thigh, squeezing the skin and moving up higher teasingly before drifting down to rest on your knee. “I could have you coming in my mouth right now in that bathroom,” her gaze travels to the ladies room on the other side of the room, your eyes following as they darken with lust. “Come on, let's have some fun,” she bites down on your ear while no one looks before pulling away and giving you a predatory look that sends another wave of arousal through you, your panties definitely soaked as you clench your thighs together.

After a few moments, Natasha excuses herself to the toilets, her eyes staying trained on you as she gets up and starts to walk away. You remember Wanda’s earlier words and reluctantly stay still in your seat. You know this is a test, Natasha staying true to her outfit and trying to get you to sin with her, give into her temptation and end up with a punishment equivalent to hell. That however doesn’t make it any easier as you suffer with the results of her dirty words and teasing.

You don’t realise that Steve and Bucky had left, leaving you alone with Wanda as Natasha waits out in the bathroom to see if you crack. Her touches are far more innocent that Natasha’s, her hands interlocking with yours, her thumb running over the back of your hand.

“You’re being such a good girl,” she whispers, the praise making you whine slightly. “I bet you’re so wet for us both right now,” your eyes widen at her words, not expecting her to be in on the teasing.

“I thought angels were supposed to be innocent and pure,” you say, hoping she’d stop the torment. She just lets out a low chuckle and smiles at you, making you nervous for what else was to come.

“The devil was an angel once,” she comments, her voice raspy and sultry, “Who says we can’t be tempted as well.” Her hand goes to your thigh, scratching through your clothing and even going as far as your inner thigh near your core to draw invisible patterns. Your breathing hitches and you bite your lip to stop yourself from saying anything.

Soon Natasha returns, having given up waiting for you, and takes her seat to your left again. She notices the prominent blush on your cheeks and how your hand is gripping the cushion of the sofa, knuckles almost turning white.

“So Y/n,” Natasha starts, drawing your attention away from Wanda’s hand on your leg, “Are you enjoying the party?” you go to answer her question but your breathing stops when your thoughts change.

You’re tied to the bed while Natasha roughly kisses your lips, pulling out moan after moan as her tongue explores the roof of your mouth. Her hands grope at your chest, pinching and pulling at your nipples causing sighs to leave your lips. Wanda was in between your thighs, looking up at you with an innocent look, and licked a stripe up your core, her tongue gathering the wetness that was dripping out of you.

“It’s rude to ignore people,” the spy moves closer to you, her chest pressed up against your shoulder as she talks into your ear. “I’ll ask you one more time,” You look over to Wanda who has a sly grin on her face before Natasha grabs your attention again by sucking on your neck, “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yes,” is all you could manage out in a breathless whisper, mind clouded with arousal and desire as both women relentlessly tease you.

“Are you sure?” Wanda whispers in your other ear, the hand that was teasing your inner thighs moving to drag her fingers over your clothed pussy under your dress, the fabric soaked with your arousal. “Because I'm sure there are more exciting things we could be doing,” you stifle a moan when she starts to circle your clit through your panties and move your hand to sit on top of hers.

“I just want to be good,” your whine has them both grinning, “I’ll do anything you want me to, just please let me be good for you.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, Natasha drags you away towards the elevator to get to your shared apartment, Wanda quickly on your tail.

Once you reach the bedroom, Natasha immediately straddles you on the bed, her mouth descending onto yours as she roughly kisses you and slips her tongue into your mouth. The whole thing is hot, her hands tugging your hair to pull moans out of you, her tongue tracing the roof of your mouth while her hips grind down harshly onto yours as she uses you for her own pleasure for the moment. Instinctively, your hands go to her waist, guiding her movements as she ruts against you.

“Fuck,” she rasps out as you both pull away breathless, Wanda unzipping the spy’s dress as she climbs off your lap and passionately kisses the witch. You watch in awe as their tongues fight for dominance, hands roaming freely across each other's body as they undress each other. You can’t move, frozen on the spot as bare skin is exposed to you, Natasha’s red dress dropping to the floor while Wanda’s is pulled over her head and discarded carelessly somewhere. They wear lingerie matching their outfits, Natasha wearing a black and red lace set while Wanda has a gold and white one on.

“Enjoying the show?” Wanda teases, swaying her hips as they both crawl onto the bed to join you. Her lips crash to yours, nothing innocent about her now as her hands rid you of your clothes. Natasha is now behind you, her chest pressing into your back while she bites at your neck, littering you with purple and red marks and sighing wantonly against your ear to make you shudder. Wanda’s hands cup your breasts unceremoniously as you revel in the pleasure, her running her fingers over your hardened nipples and tugging playfully. You lean your head back onto Natasha who moves to nibble on your ear, her hand coming up to rest on your throat, a pitiful moan escaping you.

“Don’t worry Kotenok,” She purrs, “You’ll get what you want soon.” You can feel her smirking into your skin as your hips buck at the contact of her knee slotting between your legs. “But first Wanda has a question, Don’t you Wands?” Her green eyes snap over to the witch who pulls back from the sloppy kiss with you, her cheeks flushed and eyes darkening.

“How do you feel about you and Nat fucking me at the same time?” she whispers against your lips and your eyes widen at the question.

“Fuck that would be hot,” you sigh out, imagining Wanda in between you and the spy as you pound into her from both sides. “Are you sure you want that?” She bites her lip at you sultrily and nods her head before moving forwards to press her lips back to yours.

“On your back baby,” she husks out between kisses and you move away from them both to lay on your back near the top of the bed. Wanda kisses down your body, licking over the marks Natasha made soothingly before ghosting her hot breath over your nipples and then kissing your inner thighs that were slick with your desire for them. “I’m going to give you your reward for being so good for us,” Her breath fans over your core, your hips bucking at the feeling which causes her to place a strong hand on your hip to keep you still. She licks through your folds, her tongue swirling around your clit while her free hand moves to be near your entrance. Her fingers gather your wetness before she thrusts two fingers straight into you, your back arching off the bed as you let out a guttural moan. Her mouth sucks at your clit while she pumps her fingers into you, your hands fisting in her hair as she eats you out

Moans pour out of your mouth when she curls her fingers and you almost scream when you feel her moan into you loudly. Your eyes wander away from the brunette between your thighs and to the redhead behind her. You hear a click of a bottle and assume she’s used some lube to ease one of her fingers into Wanda’s tight hole and let her get used to the feeling and stretch. Wanda’s face moves to kiss at your thigh for a moment, trying to get used to the feeling of something in her ass before continuing to reward you. You softly stroke her hair and let her take her time and watch as Natasha moves to have Wanda sit on her face, her finger slowly stretching her tight hole out.

The room then fills with your moans and Wanda’s muffled ones as Natasha brings her close to coming and manages to work her up to having three fingers pumping in and out of her ass. Your legs tighten around Wanda’s face as you come with a scream, body spasming with pleasure as you ride out your high grinding against the witches mouth. She follows soon after, clenching around Natasha’s fingers and tongue as she screams into you, biting down on your inner thigh to muffle the scream. The feeling was painful but also pleasurable and you’re certain you're going to have a dark mark there later on.

Natasha moves from under her, not wanting to overstimulate her, and carefully pulls her fingers out. You pull Wanda up your body, peppering kisses over her face as she tries to steady her breathing.

“You did so well for us,” you praise, still breathless from your own mind blowing orgasm as you talk to her. She hums in response and slowly kisses you, the taste of yourself on her tongue making you moan into her mouth. “Are you still up for us both?” you whisper against her lips, your hands stroking her back as she presses her body weight onto you.

“Yeah,” she murmurs back and you see Natasha move to get the strap ons before lubing them both up so it doesn't hurt her.

“Remember your safewords?” Natasha asks while Wanda gets off you so you can put the harness on.

“Green for ok, Yellow for slow down and Red for Stop,” Natasha smiles at Wanda softly then pecks her lips and helps guide her to hover above your plastic cock. Your hands move the tip of the toy to rub against her clit teasing before letting her sink down onto it. She moans lewdly as her hips meet yours and slowly starts to rock back and forth. She braces her arms next to your head and moans into a kiss as you thrust up into her gently, her hips starting a rhythm with yours.

Natasha soon has her harness on and moves to kneel behind Wanda while her hands slow her movements down. You whisper comforting words to the brunette, checking if she’s still ok by asking her for a colour, as Natasha slowly pushes the head of the toy into her ass, a loud gasp leaving the witch as she screws her eyes shut. You’re both patient as you let Wanda adjust to the toy, Natasha soon having the whole toy inside her and letting the pain fade to pleasure.

Experimentally, Wanda moves forwards slightly then pushes back, a low groan escaping her as she enjoys the feeling of Natasha and yourself deep inside her. Natasha starts a gentle pace of thrusting in and out of her while you swallow her moans with your mouth and thrust your hips up into her. Soon Wanda starts to move in time with you both, as soon as you pull out, Natasha pushes in and vice versa and her moans become louder.

“Fuck,” she moves to lean backwards against Natasha, who wraps a firm hand around her middle to keep her upright, while your hand moves to circle her clit. “Harder,” She sighs out, the two of you listening and increasing the force at which you pump your hips into her. “Faster,” the sound of skin slapping echoes around the room as you pound into her from underneath and Natasha snaps her hips against her. Wanda’s breasts bounce with each thrust and her legs start to shake as she nears her orgasm. “Please, I’m so close, don't stop,” begs tumble out her mouth as her hips move frantically between the two of you.

With a loud scream, liquid gushes out of her around your cock as she comes, her hips stuttering as her hands grip behind her onto Natasha to stop her body from collapsing forwards. You both slow down your thrusts as she rides out her high, her legs spasming around you while her hands fall off the spy to rest on your chest while she pants for breath. Natasha kisses along her neck and back while she calms down and when you see her wince at the feeling of being so full, you motion for Natasha to slowly pull out. She whines at the motion and soon moves off your lap to lay on the bed next to you.

You quickly discard the harness while Natasha moves to the bathroom to start a bath for you three and pull the witch close to you to murmur praise to her. Her body naturally moves towards you, her face tucked into your neck as she tries to fall asleep, her body exhausted from coming so hard. When Natasha returns, you carry her to the bath and gently lower her in and climb in behind her so she can lean back into your embrace. Natasha also climbs in, helping clean Wanda off and start her aftercare before quickly washing herself from any sweat.

“Are you ready for bed milaya?” Natasha murmurs into the witch’s hair after placing a soft kiss. She nodded back sleepily and the spy helped her dry off before taking her to bed. You quickly drain the tub and dry off yourself before joining them in bed. Wanda curls her body into Natasha but when she feels your presence next to her, she moves her hand back in search of yours and she places it around her middle. You smile at her drowsy actions and kiss them both goodnight before drifting off to sleep.

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himegureisu · 1 month

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Time

Summary: Your love language is quality time. However, your husband is the King of Mirkwood.

A/N: I was supposed to write a Mycroft Holmes/Female Reader. However, this idea popped up and went brr in my head and then my fingers. I needed to finish it before it went so here it goes my first for this pairing I hope you enjoy! (And good night for me because it’s 4AM also not proofread)

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

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“What was it, meleth nín?” Thranduil asked, “I apologize our time is to be cut short again,”

It was the nth time someone interrupted your strolls to whisk him away for a matter of utmost significance and to be honest, you were tired of it.

Trying so desperately to take time between the day to see him. To get a moment of his time.

He was a King.

A title that holds responsibilities he could not neglect. You know that. However, you didn’t expect to be pushed aside.

“It’s nothing,” you fake a smile, “You should go they need you,”

But I need you too.

You didn’t try after that.

Your handmaiden noticed your melancholy days after the incident. It was like he didn’t notice you were gone.

Yes, you did eat together most of the time. However, you didn’t pop by his office during your free time. You didn’t leave snacks anymore for him to munch on when he forgets to eat. You didn’t propose to walk so you could both stretch your legs. You didn’t wait for him to go to bed.

Contrary to your belief, your husband did notice your absence.

His days were often tedious and tiring. Your short visits were always something he looked forward to. The bright spot to his days so when palace staff gossip came through his ears…

“The Queen seems pale. Is she ill?” a soft feminine voice asked in concern,

“Oh, why would she be ill?” a different voice, an ellon this time, “Maybe she’s expecting a child!”

“She could be ill because of the child.” the elleth remarks, as another joins in the conversation,

“The Queen is not expecting I would know.”your handmaiden divulged as much, No, she seems dejected.”

“The King has been busy…”

Her words echoed in his mind because it was true. His thoughts wandered to those moments your times were constantly interrupted and the day you last visited.

Oh.

“Where is the Queen?” he asks your handmaiden, who exited the study, a book on hand for you.

“At the gardens, My Lord,” she simply answered.

“That’s for her?” he gestured to the book, she nods meekly, “I’ll take it to her. Go tend to your other duties,”

Your handmaiden scurries off in fear and intimidation to go prepare your clothes for the evening. On the other hand, your husband quickly makes his way to the gardens where he couldn’t see you.

“By Valar,” he mumbles frustratedly, walking through the foliage, “Where are you?”

Your soft sniffles give you away.

Between two trees, there was a hammock tied on to their sturdy barks. On the hammock, beneath a thick blanket, you hug his pillow as your tears fell down your cheeks.

From outside your cocoon, the grass crackle as slow footsteps approach your hideout.

Your book finally.

“Did you find that book I asked for?”

“I did,”

A different voice answered. One you haven’t heard from in what seemed like days. His voice.

“Meleth nín,” he breathed out, “Please do not hide from me,”

“I’m hardly presentable,” you sniffed, wiping your tears away, as the hammock tilts a bit on one side, “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting of sorts?”

“No,” he frowns, sitting on the edge of the fabric, the book left on by his side, “I don’t care if you’re presentable or not. I’m not the kingdom,”

Slowly, you emerge from your shell to be greeted by his silver eyes, dull in color much like your own has been these past couple of weeks.

“Oh, meleth,”

There were dark shadows beneath your eyes. Your cheeks were stained with dry tears and nose flush from mucus buildup. His heart twisted beneath his chest at the sight of you.

What has he done?

“Oh, meleth nín,” he said, taking you in his arms for a warm embrace you missed, “I’m sorry. I am a fool,”

He hated being the cause of your tears.

“You were,” your voice cracked, as you tuck yourself beneath his chin savoring his presence, “I missed you so much,”

“I missed you too,” he kisses your forehead, and pulls you closer, “I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out, didn’t make the time, made you cry, made you feel like this…”

Your tears fall once again down your cheeks to his robes. He noticed. He noticed your absence after all.

“You are my starlight, my reason to go on,” he softly declared, “I promise I’ll try to do better,”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I needed” you quietly admit, “I thought I’d be bother you already do so much,”

“You are never a bother,” he adamantly says, glancing down to see you also looking at him, “You are always welcome to whisk me away from the duties of court. I’d rather you than them.”

“Their needs are much more important than mine,” you say.

“But your needs are the most important to me,” his words caused your heart to flutter in the most endearing ways. “You are the most important to me. You do not need to vie for my time or attention. You will always have it. Though, I may not notice it at times you should not hesitate to tell me.”

“If so, can we just stay like this?” you breathed out tiredly against his chest, your ear to his heart beating soundly beneath, “I just… need you,”

“We can,” he gently kisses your forehead, as your eyelids droop down, “It would be a pleasure,”

“Thranduil,” you softly whisper, as he places his forgotten pillow beneath your heads, “Gi melin,”

“Gi melin, meleth nín,” his fingers tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear as you settled on his chest, “Sleep. I will be here when you wake,”

It wasn’t long until you did.

Your breaths soft and even as Thranduil gently places the book on the ground so neither of you gets stabbed by its’ edges. He pulls you the closest he could, you unconsciously grasp tight.

Just the way you both liked it.

He lays there quietly observing the heavens, where scattered white clouds and birds of the realm adorned the blue skies, wondering how he was so lucky to have fallen for a second time to you.

He didn’t know what time it was and frankly, he didn’t care when his eyes slowly surrendered to the thrall of slumber joining you in blissful rest for the afternoon.

He would do better. He was going to do better. For you.

#fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil oropherion #lotr x reader #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #lord of the rings fanfiction #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #lord of the rings

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cherryslyce · 1 year

Text

Amalfi Coast | Theodore Nott

Synopsis: The end of your years at Hogwarts brings about stirring changes: the unveiling of your betrothal to Theodore Nott and an all-expense getaway to Italy for alone time with your husband-to-be.

PAIRING: Theodore Nott x GN!Reader

WORD COUNT + NOTES: 4.5k. I am so weak for Theodore.

The shards of glimmering light that dance across the soft peaks of water distances away seem to speak to you as you drift into your thoughts. Crowded between cliff-hanging abodes and the frothing shore, you’ve never felt so insignificant until that moment.

Your hand absentmindedly brushes against the fine grains of sand below you, the microscopic beads emanating a pleasant warmth against your palm. You hear a soft thud from beside you just as a comforting presence graces you, the uncomfortable stir of disorientation washing away with the drag of the waves.

“The unit should be prepped soon. We can grab some food after Mitzy brings over our luggage.” Theodore’s smooth voice hums out, eyes clambering to drink in the sight of the sea as well.

You smile softly at the mention of the boy’s house-elf, remembering how she had been keen to help you pack for the trip. Nodding, you unconsciously shift closer to the boy as you glance at him, “Sounds like a plan.”

Theodore looks completely serene much to your confusion. A large part of you was grateful that Theodore was chosen to be your betrothed, but another chunk of your heart twinged painfully at the thought. It was no secret that Nott Sr. was a strict man, and you couldn’t help but spiral into a web of thoughts about how Theodore was likely forced into being with you.

It had only been a few months since you both graduated from Hogwarts, but you distinctly recall how close Theodore was to Millicent Bulstrode. Your brain sifted through your memories of the girl, remembering her calculative eyes and pin-straight posture.

You just hoped the girl wouldn’t hex you for swooping in and stealing her boyfriend.

You and Theodore weren’t exactly close friends, but you both sought out each other’s company during exam season, enjoying the comfortable routine of silence that you both fell into during those days. Outside of the library, interactions with the boy dwindled into nods and occasional smiles. Despite the distance between you both during school, you held onto hope that your familiarity with one another would serve as a stepping stone towards a smooth relationship.

Conversation with Theodore is sparse for the hours that follow, the both of you mulling over thoughts of pleasantries and faltering topics of chatter. The fervid wind settles the farther you trek from the shoreline, now teetering past assortments of clustered buildings, all mottled with bright colors.

Your wand presses stiffly against your side as you tuck it into the waistband of your bottoms, concealing it from view as you both approach a swarm of people. Theodore keeps beside you, donning black sunglasses that keeps his searching gaze hidden as you both bask in the foreign environment.

It was lively and bright, the antithesis to the perpetual gloom and blisters of humming that was encroached in every stone of Britain. White verandas and endless shrubbery adorned the collection of shops around you, catching your eyes every so often.

“Here we are.” Theodore mutters, throwing you a small smile as your mouth drops into a vague o-shape.

The restaurant is stretched open with white beams of wood streaming upward to a flat wooden ceiling, the entirety of the seating area is squared away by the side banisters instead of proper walls, letting in the cool wind and seaside view. Theodore steps forward to speak with the hostess, hand lifting up to tug off his sunglasses as a blanket of shade envelopes you both.

You’re entranced by Theodore’s rapid-fire speaking, wondering if he had chosen Italian for his language lessons in order to strengthen his friendship with Blaise. With Theodore’s fluency and the restaurant’s expansive array of tables, you’re both seated in a matter of minutes.

The speckless table cloth drapes past your legs like a waterfall, effectively providing a shield against the breeze as you take your spot across from Theodore. The boy plucks his menu up and shoots you an indecipherable look from above the booklet as you remain motionless, seeing as your elementary understanding of Italian begins and ends at Ciao and Grazie.

Theodore’s lips flicker up momentarily before he lays his menu down and shuffles it over to you, “Do you want pasta? Or salad? They also have pizza, if you prefer that.”

Your lips split into a small smile of relief, a warmth blossoming in your chest as the stiff atmosphere around you both seems to wash away. Theodore reads off of the entire menu for you, eyes occasionally shifting to your concentrated face as you pedal between a few options.

When you finally decide on a dish, Theodore offers you a light hum and shining eyes, paralyzing you for a few moments. Perhaps, and to your relief, your relationship could work out after all. You just needed to clear the air between you both first.

The meal continues on without a hitch, but you have to make a conscious effort to not stare at the boy in front of you when the sun begins to sink behind the basin of sea water.

The swirls of orange and pink of the sky illuminate his sharp features, complementing his already striking complexion. A tamed buzzing of conversation wafts through the air, spurring you to word-vomit the thoughts that were plaguing you since your first joint dinner with Theodore and his father weeks before.

“I’m sorry,” You begin, looking away from Theodore when he meets your gaze with furrowed eyebrows, “about our marriage.”

Silence ensues after your vague words, and when you finally work up the courage to glance back at Theodore, confusion settles into the etches of your mind as you see his frown and penitent gaze. You had expected false platitudes of reassurance, or bitter resignation—hell, maybe anger—but certainly not the look he was giving you right now.

Clearing your throat, you sit up and lean forward, “I mean, I know that you would rather not be betrothed to me, so I’m sorry. My parents are quite lenient people, so I should have fought against it since I know your heart belongs to someone else already.”

“What?” Theodore wheezes out, reeling back to process your words.

Feeling heat creep up your neck, you falter back with quiet words, “Maybe, if I had refused vehemently, my parents could have convinced your father to not force you. I just wanted to apologize because I don’t want any lingering awkwardness or expectations for each other.”

Before Theodore can respond, your waiter paces over, giving you a polite smile before turning to address Theodore. The boy in front of you distractedly answers the waiter, eyes flickering back to your rigid figure amidst his words.

Once the waiter parts from your tableside, leaving behind a quaint black tray for your sum, Theodore seems to fall into a silent daze as he robotically composes himself and leaves the money on the tray. When he pushes his chair back, you follow suit, ready to play catch up if he swept away and down into the streets without you.

To your muted surprise, Theodore stops by your side and holds out his hand for you to take. Hesitantly clasping his calloused hand in yours, you are only able to await his words with bated breath, distracting yourself by focusing on the feeling of his rings against your fingers.

Theodore leads you yards away from the restaurant, only falling to a halt once you both reach a secluded area beside a blocked-off cliffside. The sound of crashing waves tangles into the air as Theodore’s eyes run around your face for a few moments.

“Do you want to call this off?” Theodore whispers, eyes steely with resolution as his other hand moves to lightly grip your arm.

You gape at his blunt words, swallowing thickly as your gaze falls to the ground, “If that’s what you want.”

“But what do you want?” He mumbles, stepping closer to you as another chilly gust of wind flies around your unguarded figures.

Peering back up to him, you frown before divulging, “I don’t want to call it off.”

“Good. Me neither.” Theodore nods, eyes softening at your honesty.

“But what about Millicent?” You mutter, head tilting with visible perplexion. The poignant reminder of her existence evokes a storm of doubts in your veins, and your head starts spinning with the culmination of the day’s events.

Theodore cranes his head back to assess you as he plainly responds, “What about her?”

This time, it’s your turn to survey his confused face with a mirrored look, “What? She’s your girlfriend? I can’t in good conscience do that to someone, arranged or not.”

Theodore’s mouth parts as he stares at you, and for a moment you’re disconcerted by the thought that he perhaps only just remembered her, but then, the most remarkable thing happens—Theodore starts to chuckle. His shoulders quake faintly with every muffled sound, and after a few moments, he throws his head back to let it out toward the darkening sky.

Before you have a moment to question the boy’s sanity, he turns back to you with a wide grin, “Is that what you were talking about earlier? You caught me from left field. I was worried that you were displeased because your heart belonged to someone already.”

Seeing your inquiring eyes, he shuffles closer and shakes his head, “I’m not dating Millicent, silly one. Where’d you get that grand idea from?”

“You guys were always together, and all the rumors–” Your words come out borderline defensive, neck blazing from embarrassment.

Theodore huffs and squeezes your arm, softly cutting you off from your spiel, “Just rumors. I wouldn’t have agreed to any sort of arrangement if I was with someone else, my father knows that much.”

“Right, yeah. Sorry.” You nod, scratching at your neck to dispel the humiliation that would live on in your head until your last moments on Earth.

“Silly.” Theodore hums, letting go of your arm to tap at your forehead, “Let’s head to our place before we freeze, yeah?”

Your rental unit was quite spacious to your surprise, and you were almost too enraptured with touching every inch of furniture to notice that there was only one bed in the entire space. Almost.

Theodore is cognizant of the same dilemma, clicking his tongue dryly as he murmurs quietly under his breath.

“I can take the floor.” You speak up almost zealously, easily masking how the prospect of waking with a sore back was killing you on the inside. Theodore and you had barely started building a thin understanding for your relationship, and you’d be damned if a single bed would stir up tension again.

Theodore swivels to look at you, “No need, we can share the bed. If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll take the floor.” His voice leaves little room for argument, and he runs a hand through his locks as he nods reassuringly at you. You’re touched by his consideration and understanding, glad that you weren’t in such a position with someone like Crabbe or Goyle, both of whom would likely grunt inaudibly and leave you to your ministrations.

“Let’s share, then.” You concede, heart thrumming fervently in your chest.

Theodore smiles softly at you and beckons you closer as he sits down on the bed, hand reaching out for you as you slowly tread forward. When you gently place your hand in his, he gives a faint tug, eyes darting down to the empty spot beside him.

Once you’re snug on the plush mattress, you turn to him with a wry grin, “We’ve skipped pretty much every single conventional step to get here. From study partners to life partners.”

“I suppose you’re right,” the corner of his mouth slants up, “from barely knowing my name to taking my surname, hm? Quite unorthodox.”

Shaking your head, you flop back onto the bed, keenly aware of how Theodore tightens his hold on your hand as it begins to slip away. Peering up at him, you raise an eyebrow, “Who said I’m taking your last name, Nott? You’re taking mine.”

“Hyphenating, it is.” He murmurs as his eyes trail toward the balcony ways off across the room.

You chuckle and stare into the abyss of the dim ceiling, “Any excuse to have a ridiculously extensive name.”

“Never as ridiculous as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” He muses, slowly lowering himself to lay beside you.

A few tantalizing beats pass before your jumbled mind seems to take away any semblance of restraint from your mouth, “I never thought it would be you, to be frank.”

“Yeah?” Theodore hums, head now turned towards you.

Nodding, you run your free hand along the edge of the bed as you continue, “My parents had been considering Crabbe for a while. I mean, they know nothing about him, but I can just imagine how that dinner would have gone once they realized just who they were shipping me off to.”

Theodore continues to study you, hand squeezing yours again before he mumbles, “I knew it’d be you.”

Snapping your head to the side, your eyes widen at his hooded gaze, “Really?”

“My father knew it too. That I wouldn’t have anyone but you.” His admission knocks the wind from your lungs, and you almost want to throttle yourself off the bed to ensure that you weren’t dreaming.

“Yeah?” You ask dumbly, heart stuttering against your ribs.

Theodore shifts to lean on his elbow, bringing his face closer to yours as he whispers, “Want to know a secret?”

All you can do is nod, trying to blink away the dizziness coiling around your head from the close proximity.

He hums and slowly retracts his hand, bringing a finger to trail the bedding beside your shoulder, “I was the one to ask your parents for permission to court you. Now, I’m going to wash up first, I promise I won’t be long.”

Without a hitch, Theodore swiftly clambers off of the bed, leaving the mattress to gently recoil against your back as it expands to its original form. You’re only able to grapple for a coherent thought once the bathroom door shuts with a click, barring you from staring at Theodore in wonder.

Once you hear the stream of the shower head emit from the bathroom, you slowly prop yourself up and trudge towards the balcony, swinging the glass doors open and allowing the whistling wind to zip through the newly exposed aperture. The biting breeze nips at your cheeks as you stare into the sky, surveying all the twinkling stars as you recount the day’s events.

You aren’t exactly sure what you’re going to say to Theodore, or if you’re even going to be able to look him in the eyes once he emerges from the bathroom, but you supposed that the turn of events unfolded more pleasantly than you could have hoped.

The distant clamoring of partygoers ways away from the balcony lulls you into a loop of idle daydreams, and you aren’t sure how many minutes have passed since Theodore’s departure from your side, but the whirlwind of your elusive thoughts dissipates when a warm hand grazes your arm.

“You alright? I’ve been calling your name for a bit now.” Theodore mumbles, eyes glazed with worry as he searches your blank expression.

Blinking slowly, you nod and offer a faint smile, “Fine, just lost in my thoughts.”

“It’s a bit chilly out here,” He glances to his right, evidently hearing the faint pulsing of music as well, “why don’t we head in?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling at him, “I’ll try not to wake you when I get out of the shower.”

As you make your way to weave around the boy, body feeling weightless despite the fatigue drenching your muscles, you can feel his eyes following you until you’re swallowed by the shadows of the room.

The numbing balm of the night’s wind melts away from your face as you peer up into the shower head. The swath of steam that swirls around your body, cloaking the mirrors and walls, seems to inhibit the taunts of your overactive brain.

Your getaway would continue for another week before you’d begin wedding arrangements, already feeling the splintering headache emerging at the thought of sitting down and picking between a plethora of cloth samples. Unions between pureblood families were a big deal for the elite circle of families as the event would serve as the perfect opportunity for pretense and business transactions between different houses.

When you crack the bathroom door open with a muffled pop, dismissing the rush of steam that flees hurriedly into the cool room, you vaguely make out the figure of Theodore propped up against the headboard. The hues of moonlight peek through the bare panes of your window, curtains swept aside, faintly illuminating the silhouette of the furniture.

“Still up?” You whisper, padding over to delicately arrange yourself beside the boy.

As you shuffle under the plush covers, dragging the edges under your arms, you turn to peer at Theodore’s profile, watching as his throat bobs down as he slowly turns to you.

“Didn’t want to sleep without you.” He mutters, slowly sinking to lay down beside you.

You suppress the tender smile threatening to peel across your face and nod, “I see. You’re not a restless sleeper, are you?”

“Are you?” He quietly intones, voice growing fainter as sleep begins to grip at his consciousness.

“No, I’m not.” You hum, resisting the urge to sweep your fingers forward in search of his, “Goodnight, Theodore.”

“Goodnight.”

You both fall asleep facing one another, inches apart as the glow of the moonlight chases away the gulfs of darkness that slink in the corners of your room. It is in this position that your slumber is torn away from you mere hours later, moonlight now dispersing into small shards that nearly blend away against the white covers.

The foggy film that clouds your senses and sight reel away as you hear a small grunt from beside you followed by incessant shifting. Blinking away your drowsiness, you slowly shift up to survey Theodore, slowly comprehending his distress.

Theodore huffs out, a muffled groan blooming into the quiet atmosphere around you. Carefully reaching over, you shake the boy’s arm, eyebrows furrowing when he simply shifts again.

“Theodore, hey,” You feebly call out, shaking his arm more frantically as he remains trapped in the desolate rapids of unconsciousness.

Leaning down you bring your other hand to softly pat his cheek, you wait with bated breath as his ministrations quell before ceasing entirely. Eyes now accustomed to the veil of midnight darkness, you see his eyes slowly blink open, a light sigh escaping his lips as he begins to claw back into reality.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re alright,” You softly murmur, bringing your fingers up to gently card back his waves, any semblance of fatigue evaporating from your bones as you focus on comforting the boy.

Theodore brings his hand up to yours, eyes beginning to sluggishly droop again, “Y/N?”

“Hm?” You hum out, readjusting your position as sickly soreness jolts up your arm.

“I guess I am a restless sleeper.” He mumbles, nudging against his pillow before he emits another sigh. His voice rumbles lethargically, and you sense that he is about to slip away into slumber again when he tightens his hold on your hand.

“Hm. What’s up?” You whisper, moving to lay down as well.

Theodore is silent for a few seconds before he tersely whispers back, voice nearly drowned out by the thumping of your heart in your ears, “Can I hold you?”

You shift closer to the cocoon of warmth batting off of him, steadily bringing your arm to wrap around him, “Of course.”

Theodore wraps his arms around you and drags you towards him, a content hum buzzing from his throat as he tucks you under his chin. For the few grand moments that pass afterward, you are left to contemplate the consequences your position would entail for when the sun rose, and you fervently hoped that no awkwardness would ensue.

Your close proximity to Theodore allows you to hear the faint thumping of his heartbeat, now undeviating in its rhythm. Bringing your free hand forward, you tuck it in the nestle of warmth between your bodies, trying to conjure inklings of sleep as a dense pressure burrowed itself in your eyes.

The lull of concentration fades into blind navigation in the crevices of your mind, and when your pulsing thoughts dwindle to incomprehensible echoes, slumber greets you once again.

When your mind blisters into stark clarity, it is with recognition of the orange hues flashing in your vision and the traces of aimless lines on your back. Your body instinctively pines for the cushion of bliss that mutely calls for you: a mixture of aftershave and pear.

For a few moments, it is completely tranquil. Until you realize that your pillow had a heartbeat.

The revelation is enough to jumpstart the discombobulated wires of your brain. Your eyes crack open to greet the rays of light that crowd your vision, an unpleasant stinging causing you to squint as you huff out.

“Good morning.” Theodore’s voice is gravelly, barely above a whisper.

“Hi Theodore.” You mumble out, remaining motionless against him.

His chest vaguely rumbles and you feel him splay one his hands against your back, “Theo. Only my father and Blaise call me Theodore.”

“Blaise?” You tiredly repeat, cheek squishing against his shirt.

“At his insistence, honestly. He thinks it’s fun.” Theodore hums, and that reminder has your hazy brain blinking with a sudden memory.

“Wait. Theodora, right?” You raise your head up, a wide grin plastered on your face as you remember the one night when Blaise dragged him away from your study routine using that nickname.

Theodore blinks before he groans into the air, bringing one of his arms up to throw over his eyes as he grumbles, “Merlin, I was hoping you’d forget or even mishear that.”

“Oh, I almost did, but Blaise’s ruckus was far more interesting than a Potions essay.” Theodore hums tiredly at the mention, and his reaction only spurs you on, “So, does he make it a habit to say Theodora, or is Dora better?” You say cheekily, shrugging innocently when Theodore peers down at you with a playful glare.

“Enough about Blaise,” Theodore mumbles, poking your ribs with his fingers as he maneuvers to sit up, dragging you to lean into his side as he did so, “I have something planned for today.”

“You’re being frighteningly vague, should I be worried?” You hum, muffling a low yawn.

Theodore shakes his head and dryly huffs , “Actually, I was planning on testing a few levitating charms on you.” His fingers dance lightly against your back as his voice drops into a feathery tone, “Have some faith in me.”

“I trust you.” You murmur, exhaling through your nose in amusement before you grow serious, “Anyway, did you sleep okay?”

Theodore doesn’t answer you, and you slowly raise your eyes to meet his face in confusion, “Theo?”

“Hm?” He hums distractedly, face craning closer to yours as he seems to almost stare through you.

Your heart collapses into the void of your ribcage for a split second before it begins to thrust violently against your chest, spurring a sea of warmth up your neck and ears. Theodore’s eyes flicker across your face as his hands begin to absentmindedly draw patterns against your sides.

You aren’t sure you’re breathing properly. Or at all.

One of his hands trails up to your arm, sliding to rest on the junction between your neck and shoulder as he muses, “Before we get up and go on about our day, I have something for you.”

Your eyebrows wrinkle at his words, eyes not straying away from his unwavering gaze. This time, it’s you who gives a small hum, patiently waiting for his next words.

“Just a small gift,” He whispers, slowly slotting his other hand on the small of your back, “It’s been a long time coming, really.”

His eyes drop down to your lips and that’s all you really need before you’re leaning towards him with anticipation, hands steadying themselves on his chest. Theodore’s lips part and he gazes at you for confirmation, jaw clenching imperceptibly as words become lost between you both.

When you remain resolute, he swiftly connects his lips to yours, mouth moving feverishly against yours. His hands press against your body, keeping you grounded as he begins to lean over you, lips never ceasing in their frenzied dance against yours.

Grasping the sides of his neck, you tug him impossibly closer to you as he hovers over you, one of his hands moving to run soothingly along your waist.

A few more heated moments pass before the tug for air becomes too great to ignore, causing you to break away from him, head tilting to the side as your lungs tinge with a faint tightness. Theodore grunts at your escape, chasing after you as he tries to satiate his desire, only opting to leave heavy kisses against your cheek and jaw when you tap his neck.

Closing your eyes, you bring your fingers to card through his hair as you attempt to halt the dizzying stars spinning across your eyelids. Amidst your fruitless efforts, a sudden tug has your eyes flying open, a bemused hum echoing through the air once you realize Theodore is guiding you to sit up.

He remains silent as he glides down from the side of the bed, hand drifting to lace with yours as he pulls you to sit at the edge of the mattress. Reaching towards the bottom drawer of the white dresser, Theodore only briefly glances away as he fishes out a small velvet box.

“Theo?” You mumble, eyes widening as he drops down on both of his knees.

“Ring.” He answers quietly, deftly opening the box and pulling out a thin silver band.

He drops kisses to your knees as he gazes up towards you, bringing one of his hands forward in muted questioning. Smiling softly, you place your left hand in his outstretched one, holding your breath when he slips the ring onto your ring finger with ease.

His hand continues to hold yours, thumb rubbing against your skin as he stares at the band.

“Thank you.” He finally says, lifting his face up to survey yours, his position leaving him at your complete mercy.

Your hands instinctively reach out to cup his face, bringing him in for another kiss as a newfound contentment curls into your chest. Theodore remains on his knees as he leans forwards, hands chancing a light slide against your hips as he reciprocates your affection.

“Fuck, how mad do you think everyone will be if we just eloped?” He grunts out before diving forward again to meet your lips.

Pulling back with a small laugh, you shake your head, “My parents would have your head.”

“I’m willing to pay that price, love.” He grins against your lips, nose nudging against yours.

Patting his cheek, you narrow your eyes playfully, “Well I’m not, so behave.”

“Yes, dear.”

masterlist

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott imagines

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bagofshinyrocks · 2 months

Text

Green-Eyed Monster

Prompt: Established relationship; Reader is jealous of someone flirting with their spouse Thranduil, who is oblivious [inspo from @nightfall-writer]

Featuring: Thranduil Oropherion x GN!Spouse!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: nothing besides my "Tauriel and Legolas are BFFs" propaganda

You had no reason for envy.

You were happily wed to the love of your life. Joined the royalty of Eryn Galen through your marriage to the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion. Doted upon by your husband, and cared for by your subjects. You wanted for nothing.

And yet… in had crept “the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on” (Othello III:3).

There was never any doubt in your mind that Thranduil was faithful to you. His love for you was as unwavering as water downhill. As was yours for him.

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you, and all but melted into your embrace in the privacy of your bedchambers. The touch of your hand more calming than chamomile. The taste of your lips more intoxicating than wine. Your bare skin more alluring than a soft bed after a long day.

But as wise and regal as your husband was, he could be a bit thick in the head at times.

It had been a whole ordeal for the two of you to come together in the first place. A host of conspirators, led by Legolas and Tauriel. An idiotic dance as the two of you convinced yourselves that your feelings were unrequited. You were surprised that your now step-son had not smacked either of you upside the head at least once. His patience was unparalleled. In this instance at least.

So you couldn’t quite blame your husband for not recognizing others’ romantic interest in him.

There were nobles from other lands, elf, dwarrow, and man alike, who were visiting. After the Battle of the Five Armies and the retaking of Erebor by the line of Durin, he decided (i.e. he was persuaded) to expand trade relations, renew treaties, and welcome ambassadors. It seemed that almost every month brought someone new to his halls.

And you weren’t surprised that someone else would find your husband attractive. Not at all.

When you first met him, you could barely breathe. Ageless beauty. Sleek, shining blond hair. Piercing blue eyes. Luxurious clothing and jewelry with more detail than one could find in a day. Voice and speech that crept into your ears and made a home in your mind. You found the Sindar attractive the moment you saw him.

For an ambassador or noble to find Thranduil handsome meant their eyes functioned in some capacity. To find his voice and speech charming, their ears. That did not bother you. It was when their feelings changed like yours did, from aesthetic appreciation to romantic desire.

And he was oblivious to it all. Your speechlessness the day you met, your intimidation at meeting a king. The eagerness for those to meet with him, an eagerness to engage with Eren Galen and its wealth of materials, labor, and beauty.

Jealousy seemed so irrational an emotion. Thranduil was wholly yours; inattentive towards other romantic pursuits. Doted upon you. Craved your company and affection at all times

But it ate at you. Others and their lingering glances. Flirtatious words. Gentle brushes against him. And the ugliness of what you felt.

Your marriage was still recent, especially by elven standards. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. To act like a child who refuses to let others play with their toy. You would turn away and pretend you did not see it, or skip meetings you were not invited to.

Thranduil was concerned. Held you close at night. Reminded you how much he loved you and how brilliant you were. How lucky he was to have you in his life and as his spouse. He must have thought that all the social engagements were draining you.

“I thank you for meeting with us, sir.” You stood from your seat at the head of the table, and everyone else leaped to their feet. It was still a little strange for so many people to hang on your every word. “I will bring your proposal to King Thranduil shortly.”

The man from Dale beamed and bowed low. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Most of the councilors filed out, but the nobleman scampered over to your side. Another low bow which you met with a nod.

“Long have I heard of the beauty of elves, Your Majesty…” A quirk in your eyebrow reminded him of his place, and he quickly caught himself. “The beauty of your halls, your craftsmanship and arts. It is an honor to see it all.”

You gave him a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. You are too kind.”

He opened his mouth again for more flattery, but another voice interrupted. One from the doorway.

“Meleth nín?”

There stood your husband, dressed in robes blue as water in moonlight. A tall crown of silver branches. White stones imitated snow and ice amongst the delicate wire.

“Forgive me, sir,” he said, not even sparing the nobleman a glance, “but I must speak with my love now.”

The nobleman quickly excused himself, but hadn’t the chance to leave the room before Thranduil had your hands in his, and his lips on yours.

When he leaned in, you expected a chaste kiss against your cheek. Instead, one hand settled on the back of your neck, and the other placed your hand against his chest. Its opposite quickly mirrored and both of your hands held the fabric of his robe.

Your lips were shiny and your face warm by the time your husband pulled away from you. All the tension had melted from him, and he wasted no time in pressing his forehead against yours and letting his eyes flutter closed again. Once his breath came easy again, he gave you a chaste kiss on the nose.

“Forgive my forwardness, meleth nín,” he cooed in Sindarin, a gentle brush of his hand over your cheek.

“Nothing to forgive, husband.” A kiss to his nose. “How could I be upset at the notion that my husband, the most handsome of all who have lived, live now, and will ever life, desires me?”

A smile at your words, and another kiss on your forehead.

That evening, the two of you were entwined on the couch in your apartments. His head rested against your chest, against your heartbeat, and your fingers combed through his hair and rubbed his back.

A fire crackled in the hearth, and two half-drunk goblets of wine sat on the table at your elbow. A comfortable silence, broken after a good while by a single word.

“Beloved,” he asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“I have a confession. And need your advice.”

The hand formerly in his hair transferred to gently scratch the back of his neck and you briefly squeezed him close with the other arm. He adjusted so he could look up at your face a bit better.

“Of course, meleth nín. What is it?”

“When you were speaking to that man from Dale… I had a foolish thought. Jealousy. I’ve felt it a great deal over the past few weeks, thought I never acted upon it. Until today. I feel childish now, interrupting and publicly expressing physical affection in neither the right time nor the right place. I-”

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips. A startled noise from him, then he pulled himself further up the couch so you could kiss more passionately. He wasn’t entirely sure why you were so taken with the idea of him being so immature, but he was glad you weren’t disappointed.

A quick huff of breath as you pulled apart.

“I love you so much,” you panted, then breaking into giggles. His brows furrowed.

“What is so funny?”

You kissed his nose. “Because I have been feeling jealous the past few weeks. And I hadn’t a clue you were feeling similarly.”

“Why are you feeling jealous?”

“Because,” you flicked his chest, “you have an entourage of nobles, merchants, and ambassadors doting after you. And I was disappointed in myself for being so immature.”

“I do?”

A very unregal snort from you. “Meleth nín, for one so wise, you are so…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

More giggles from you. “Very well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and his nose was tucked comfortably against your throat. The soothing warmth of his breath and the movement of his chest almost lulled you to sleep.

“I don’t think feeling jealousy is a bad thing,” you mused, fingers tracing the embroidery of his leisure dress. “It is a natural part of our behavior, to feel protective of things we love. And you weren’t rude or aggressive, for which I would have been unhappy. I’m glad you love me so much that somewhere in you,” a tap to the side of his head, as if to point the spot out, “a primal sliver encourages you to keep me all to yourself.”

A deep kiss from your husband. One hand behind your neck, cradling your head. The other crept between your back and the couch, fingers pressing into your flesh, pulling you into him as if any distance between you two still existed. You were smiling wide against his lips.

“How silly we both are,” he chuckled after leaning back for air.

Your fingers combed through his hair, finally settling to gently scratch the scalp around his ears.

“Indeed we are, my love.”

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Posted: 2024 March 7

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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

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clarakiki · 28 days

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The spring revel

Thranduil x reader

Summary: Spring has come upon the Elvenking's realm and you know exactly how to celebrate it.

Genre: Fluff and Smut

Warnings: afab reader, no use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and the reader and Thranduil being drunk, explicit smut, children (? not yours just yeah, they're there)

Notes: Hello my loves <3. Coming back to you with many firsts in this fic. It is my first time writing for Thranduil (I have a Lotr phase and can't get him out of my head) and my first time writing smut. So please excuse if it's not that great, I will get better I promise. I appreciate your comments and kudos and I hope you'll enjoy <3

You dance under the trees.

The air is warm and sweet, the torches glow with golden fire and the wine is flowing freely. The lush green canopy hides the night sky above, making it feel like you are in a great hall.

The spring revel has come upon Eryn Lasgalen, and you are drunk and happy and free. Your bare feet feel the soft grass and cool rock and your short dress sticks to your body while you dance around the hill.

Other elves twirl and jump around you, they take your hands and laugh with you. Tonight the line between monarch and subject blurs. The lively music of pipes and flutes makes your head spin.

At the head of a great carved table, which bends under the weight of fruit and soft bread and carafes of deep red wine, sits your husband, The Elvenking, and for once he seems to be enjoying himself. Upon his regal brow rests a crown of flowers and leaves and his lips are curled into a smile. His wine cup is never empty.

Perhaps that is the reason he lets the group of elf children prance around him. Some are singing to the music and dance around happily, some climb on his lap and look up at him with their big bright eyes. One child has dared to touch his crown and braid his hair. For once he lets them, for tonight is a time of celebration for everyone, both a king and a child.

The round ends and you can finally go rest for a moment. Your spent legs carry you towards your own throne, one set next to your husbands. It is a beautiful thing, spun from intertwining branches and adorned with carved writing. Budding blooms decorate the headrest.

With a sigh you plop yourself, rather ungracefully, into your seat. Before your husband can get a word out, the child sitting upon his lap starts: “Please my lady, come and dance with us.” The little boy pleads and others join him.

“Did you not ask your king to dance with you?” you ask, teasing them a little, for you know the answer.

A choir of intermingling voices answers you, one over the other accusing their Elvenking of refusing them. You laugh quietly at their distress and at your husband's tired sigh. “Alright, dear children, I promise I will come and dance with you. But you have to promise me, to ask your mothers first and then to go to bed on time.”

The little faces light up and soon they are all scrambling to find their parents.

“You saved me, my love,” Thranduil laughs, a rare sight. “How was your dance? You seem already spent.” You know he is only joking and you decide to retaliate.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” you exaggerate. “It would be better, however, if a certain elf joined me for the next song?” It is meant only as a jest but he surprises you with his answer.

“Be good to me and I just might,” he voice is low and rich and it does things to you.

“Are you too deep in your cups, or are you teasing me?”

“Believe me, I know how to hold my liquor and I am totally serious,” he smirks and drinks from his cup. You want to kiss the smug look off of his face. You might just do that later tonight. No, you will.

“I shall hold you to that promise.”

“I have never doubted that, dearest, however I believe you already have a different partner for the next round.” He points towards the crowd and suddenly the elf children come running back to you.

You stand up, grab the chalice from Thranduil’s hands and take a deep swig of wine. It is rich and bitter and your face scrunches at the taste. “I will dance with you tonight,” you warn your husband and let yourself be pulled away by a throng of laughing children.

—

The night has given away into the early hours of morning when you get back to Thranduil. The crowds have thinned, the music slowed and the elf children finally went to sleep.

“My love,” Thranduil says standing up, when he sees you.

You come together like it’s second nature now. He embraces you around your middle and you hide your face in his chest. He smells sweetly of wine and flowers. You would drown in it if you could.

He cups your face in his big hands and you look up into those cold cold eyes, warm only for you. “Are you ready to fulfil your promise?” you ask, voice low.

He smiles at you like he does at no one else and your heart melts at the sight

“My king!” you exclaim drunkenly. “Let us dance around the hill one last time and after that I am ready to go to bed,” mumble the end of the sentence into his shoulder, your eyes already droopy. You feel him shake his head at your antics, but then he swoops down and kisses your forehead. You shiver at the gentle gesture.

Thranduil, with you half leaning on him, leads you by your hand among the elves. A single lonely flute plays a slow melody, you feel entranced by it. The music and your husband's icy eyes lull you into a sleepy daze.

You twirl in his arms and reach up to inhale his sweet scent, kissing his white throat. He hums above you and winds you to him even closer.

The air is warm and sweet and spring has come.

—

You are led back to your rooms by your husband, leaning on him, drowsy from both the dancing and the wine.

You let yourself be lowered on the grand bed and look up at him with droopy eyes. “I want to kiss you,” you do not know if it's the wine giving you this courage or your sleepiness.

Thranduil smiles at that, and it’s incredibly soft, and obliges you. He tastes like always, rich and full. “I love you,” you mumble into his lips.

“And I you,” he answers, when he pulls away from you, setting himself gently above your thighs.

You don’t like that he is so far away, so you grab his hips and try to pull him back to you. “Please,” you whine. “Please-.”

“Use your words darling, you know I can’t read your mind,” he tuts above you, while starting to undo the lace on the front of your dress.

“Please touch me, I need you,” the fire is burning in your belly and you feel like you might burn if he doesn’t do something. Anything.

“Let me get you out of this dress first,” he promises and smirks, pleased with himself. His hands are careful, but sure, and soon the silky fabric of the bed covers caresses your skin.

Then he stands up to undress himself. Reaching to take off his crown, he is a sight, naked, his brow adorned by flowers. Pale smooth skin and ice blue eyes. You swear he’s never been more beautiful than he is now.

“Come here, my love,” you say and he does. He lays over you and kisses you hungerly. You moan into his mouth, tangling your fingers in his silky hair, finding some of the braids the children left there.

“Let me take care of you, dearest,” Thranduil whispers in your ear and you shiver at the thought. He trails kisses down and down until he reaches your thighs and licks and bites there until you're squirming under him, his strong hands pinning you down by the hips.

“No more, just touch me,” you whine and pull at his scalp harshly.

To your horror Thranduil stops all together. He pulls himself up, your hands still in his hair. Above you he looks like a mythical being, one you should not have the honour to touch.

“You have gotten so bold since we met. Commanding you king.”

With his slight smile and a teasing tone he brings you back to earth. “But you love that about me, my king,” you smirk at him.

“That is true, yes, but if I am to comply to you, and truly touch you like you want me to, you shall, let me tease you a little. As a treat,” oh, he sounds so proud, high and mighty. Yes he shall tease you, but you shall repay it tenfold.

With a satisfied smirk on his lips he returns to his task excruciatingly slow. He works you up again, lapping at your thighs, biting the skin there and holding you to the mattress by your waist. So the moment he does, finally tastes you with his tongue, it feels like you're going to burst. Dragon fire burns under your skin, unvanquishable, everlasting. Only he, Thranduil can save you.

He is savouring your taste, as if it was sweeter than any wine he’s ever tasted. He builds you up to your peak slowly, taking his time, until tears of pleasure sting your eyes. The dam brakes, when you come from his mouth alone. It is deliciously painful.

Thranduil wipes his chin with his hand and lays next to you, circling his arms around you. You kiss him again, tasting yourself on his lips, reaching down to touch him. “Meleth nin,” he moans and you watch as his brows scrunch up and his blue eyes roll in pleasure.

You smile for yourself and kiss his neck, biting and sucking. The white skin goes dark quickly under your lips. In the end you don’t have the heart to deny him, and so you don’t tease him much. Still, he doesn't last long at all, for he was already bursting from eating you out. With a few final strokes he moans loudly and comes in your hand.

You kiss for a time after that, but you both are too sleepy to continue properly. Thranduil, ever the gentleman, offers himself to go find a towel to clean you with. You would so like to watch him, as he prances around the room in all his glory, but you can’t hold your eyes open. You feel his gentle touches and hear his loving words, but at that you are already half asleep. The last you know is your husband pulling you to his embrace, holding you head to his chest.

You slumber as the dawn breaks.

#Thranduil #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil fluff #Thranduil smut #The Hobbit #Lotr #fluff #smut

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ask-ethari-anything · 11 months

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GOD DAMN ETHARI I LOVE YOUR HAIR . you give me serious gender envy :P also do your horns- antlers? what ever they are called ever hit or get stuck on things and how much does his hurt if they do get hurt

*ruffles hair self-consciously* Why thank you, love!

My horns - I call them horns - don't much get stuck on things, as I've had them for some while now and I'm rather used to how high they stand off my head when it comes to doorway situations and branches and the like.

That said, I've been known to snag the occasional leaf or spider web when I'm not paying close attention, and I've also gotten them tangled in the odd whirling strand of my husband's long hair while I'm spinning him during a dance! If this happens, he is automatically declared "the winner" and receives kisses, because I refuse to let him feel bad about his long hair, and because that way I'm close enough to untangle us. So really we both win!

#ask ethari #elf horns #soft elf husbands

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beautifulterriblequeen · 2 years

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More hyph sketches of Ruthari from yesterday!!

#hyph art #tdp art #ruthari art #ruthari #runaan #ethari #the dragon prince #tdp #soft elf husbands #runaan is such a lightweight #i literally cannot pick a favorite

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ask-runaan-anything · 9 months

Note

Speaking of nicknames, what does Ethari call you? And what do you call him in return?

Ethari can call me anything he likes. Even if his voice is muffled, I can tell by his tone that he means me. But he usually calls me darling, his heart, or his shade.

If I must speak aloud, I call him Ethari, mostly, since that's his name. But if I'm feeling particularly soft, one might overhear me calling him my heart as well, or my light. Otherwise I simply get his attention by touching him. It seems he likes that very much.

#ask runaan #runaan answers #soft elf husbands #nicknames

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littlejuicebox · 3 months

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The wish spell worked.

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader/Tav

Summary/Setting: 10 years post BG3. Follows my HC for spawn Astarion arc. See my other fics for more information, but otherwise the title speaks for itself. :)

Rating/Warnings: PG / allusions to sexual behaviors / fluff / in-game spoilers / lightest bit of angst if you squint but not really / this is self-indulgent af and idc / so sweet it will rot your teeth

Word Count: 2.2 K

A/N: HAPPY 400 FOLLOWERS POST! Thank you to everyone who likes my stories and provides encouragement. I love you all! I originally wanted to post this as a New Years Eve/Day special, but I couldn't get it quite right by then. After several reiterations, this is what we finally have! Hope it was worth the wait and multiple edits for you guys! :)

-----

If anyone had told Astarion Ancunin a decade ago that he would one day hold Gale Dekarios on a pedestal nearly as high as the one on which he held his darling Tav, the immortal elf might have actually died from laughter. The strange irony and wicked life lessons of fate were not lost on the retired rogue. Unbelievably and annoyingly, Astarion eventually found himself indebted to the wizard in a way he could never repay.

The wish spell worked.

It had taken years for Gale to feel absolutely ready to cast the spell. Astarion waited — exasperated, impatient, and impetuous — for what felt like the longest ten years of his ageless lifetime to be given the gift of mortality.

More than once, in the pale elf’s tearful fits of frustration, he accused the wizard of intentionally stringing him along or simply not having the skills to perform such a spell and not wanting to admit it. More than once, you had to calmly remind your husband of the great lengths Gale had gone to find information regarding the act and the even greater risk to both the vampire and the wizard if the spell was not cast perfectly and mindfully.

It had been a long decade, waiting for that impossible possibility, but the wait had been more than worth it.

Just over ten years after you met that silver-haired rake on the beach, Astarion was miraculously returned to his living, breathing, heart beating, mortal elven form. Surprisingly, not much changed about his appearance. Most notably, his eyes turned a gold-flecked green, and his complexion took on a constant soft pink undertone, permanently tinged by the circulation of his own blood by his own heart. That beautiful undertone caused a delightful blush to creep across his cheeks and ears whenever you teased or aroused him, and you took an even more significant liking to both these behaviors, just to watch that gorgeous rosiness creep across his skin.

And while you dearly loved that blush, your favorite part of the change had certainly been the steady beating of his heart. You would rest your head on your lover’s chest for hours to savor the sound if he let you, wrapped tightly in the new found warmth of his long limbs.

While you became obsessed with Astarion’s steadily thrumming heart, he’d become obsessed with his reflection. As soon as he’d been able to see himself, your husband had taken to having you sit on his lap while you primped and preened. He would stare into the looking glass with you for long lengths of time, his limbs coiled around your waist and chin often resting on your shoulder as he studied the mirror with a besotted, hazy smile on his face.

After a few weeks of this, you finally asked your silver-haired husband why he seemed positively obsessed with this new behavior. Astarion’s response had floored you.

“Darling, in my over 200 years, I never imagined I would have a love of my own, nor did I ever imagine what we would look like together. I couldn’t have envisioned such a thing even if I thought it a possibility or wanted to. I simply couldn’t envision myself at all. But now seeing it? I want to commit everything to memory exactly as it is… because it’s the most precious vision in the world to me.”

And really how else could you respond to that apart from kissing your sappy, bleeding heart of a husband and allowing him to continue the practice?

Of course, the two of you behaving as innocent love birds hadn’t been the only thing Astarion wanted to see in the mirror. On more than one occasion, he’d easily charmed you into the throes of passion in perfect view of a reflective surface. Your husband’s darker, more carnal half had become obsessed with watching you two in the act and it certainly thrilled you to know he was trying to commit those sensual sights to memory. You were quite happy to oblige.

As such, you’d soon found yourself carrying the byproduct of one of your many erotic couplings.

“That was a big one.” Astarion murmurs, and you see a smile creeping across the reflection of his face in the mirror as he glances down and runs his long fingers across the swell of your abdomen. His arms are looped around you as you sit front of the vanity mirror, placing the final touches on your appearance.

You agree with a gentle hum, moving a hand to your pregnant belly and rubbing circles on the stretch of skin, hoping to calm the young life stirring within. You coo softly to the rolling babe as you finish your primping, “Surely you aren’t thinking about breaking out of there yet, my little love. You have a few more months to go.”

Astarion’s now-warm hands cover yours as the little one seems to do somersaults in response to your voice, causing you to wince slightly as they jolt against your ribs. He presses a tender kiss into your shoulder and chuckles, “This one is strong like their mother and impatient like their father… we may be in for a spot of trouble in a few years, my love.”

You laugh in response as you stand with a pitiable amount of effort and quite a bit of assistance from the supportive arm of your husband. “I believe you’re right… but surely we’ve taken on scarier and more difficult things than a stubborn babe.”

Astarion hums in agreement before pressing a kiss to your swollen stomach, which is hovering just in front of him now, “Surely, darling. Now let us all go say hi to Uncle and Auntie Ravengard. I’m positively famished.”

-----

You are almost out of breath as you walk the final steps toward the entry of the Duke’s home. Astarion had practically begged you to take the carriage all the way through Wyll’s estate, but you waved him off, adamant that a bit light exercise would be good for the baby. The walkway was fully paved, how hard could it be?

As it turned out, you’d severely overestimated your abilities. Though it was just under a quarter mile to the front doors of the manor when you’d decided to exit the carriage, you were no longer the young, lithe woman that traversed the wilds with a petulant vampire a decade ago. The weight of your belly slowed you down more than you would admit. Astarion implored you, more than once and with growing concern and exasperation, to return to carriage. You refused each time, forcing the driver to follow behind at a snail’s pace.

“Gods, I hope this child does not take on your stubborn streak. I will be constantly overrun in my own home.” Astarion huffs, dabbing at the few beads of sweat on your brow with a silken handkerchief as he helps you climb the small flight of stairs at the entryway of Wyll’s home. He rolls his eyes as you laugh, breathlessly, and lean into him for support as he presses a kiss at the meeting point between your cheek and ear. “But, my sweet, as much as I would have preferred we stayed in the coach, you know I adore the way you look with your cheeks all flushed after a bit of… exertion.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at your husband as he traces his hand over your flushed cheek, his expression practically brimming with desire. The flush on the tips of his ears is a telltale sign of his salacious thoughts. If he had it his way, he’d be dragging you into the carriage right there for a quickie. But, he knew you two were nearly running late for dinner with the Duke and forced himself to push all desires aside. For now.

Wyll and his beautiful wife, Euphemia, greet you with a flurry of excitement and hugs. Their two twin toddlers run around in the entryway, a nursemaid trailing behind them.

Wyll wears a kind, soft smile as he addresses the both of you, “Dinner should be just about ready… shall we make our way there? I hope you two don’t mind. We are having work done in the dining room — my beautiful flower insisted upon remodeling — so dinner will have to be served in the Great Hall.”

As the four of you head towards the larger of the two dining areas in the Duke’s estate, Astarion wraps his arm around your waist and runs his hand along the side of your nearly bursting belly once again. There is a subtle pause at the doors of the Great Hall, and your husband’s eyebrows crinkle in a silent question before you gently press a kiss into his cheek and whisper, “Happy Rebirth Day, my love.”

Today marked one year since Gale successfully cast the Wish Spell.

The oak doors burst open to reveal the faces of everyone you hold dear, all of them shouting, “Surprise!” in unison. Wyll and Euphemia are laughing with delight as the four of you enter the room. Astarion is obviously shocked and overwhelmed as he takes the scene in, but a toothy smile is plastered across his face nonetheless. The elf could not believe that the significance of the date had slipped his mind, nor could he believe that you all went through such great lengths to plan a spectacle on his behalf.

Everyone showered your husband with a plethora of well-wishes and congratulations. The food was heavenly, and the silver-haired elf dined to his heart’s content. Just as Astarion loved to watch you both in the mirror, you adored seeing him eat and savor real food. You’d pursued cooking as a new hobby in the past few months, just to watch the delight on his face as he tasted any number of delectable things you placed in front of him.

“Have you thought of any names for the baby?” Karlach asks through a mouthful of food as she continues to tear into the lamb shank in front of her.

You smile knowingly. This topic has piqued everyone’s interest and they all turn their gazes in your direction, “Yes, actually… Astarion picked it out. It works well for a boy or a girl, and I think it’s an excellent choice.”

The elf smiles shyly, that subtle flush of his cheeks and ears crawling across his face as you turn your gaze to him and urge him on, “Go on, my love, and tell them the gorgeous name you picked.”

“I… I decided we should name the baby Gale.” Astarion reveals, his hand immediately moving to graze against your swollen stomach as he meets the flabbergasted expression of the wizard sitting across the table with a round-eyed, nervous gaze, “If… that’s okay by you.”

Gale coughs in surprise, nearly choking on the wine he’d just sipped from a goblet. For a moment, you watch as he blinks away tears. You are beginning to truly believe he might leap across the table and tackle your husband in a hug when he rapidly nods instead.

The wizard’s voice cracks with emotion as he speaks, “Y-yes. Thank you, Astarion. That is such an honor.”

Ten years of friendship between two men that once seemed entirely at odds with one another, honored by a namesake given to a precious babe. Fate was a truly remarkable thing.

“It’s an honor you are quite deserving of, Gale.” You respond, reaching your hand across the table to give the wizard’s hand an affectionate squeeze. “May our child have just as much heart, wit, and skill as their namesake. We will be truly blessed.”

A cake with candles is brought about at the end of the meal and placed in front of Astarion as everyone sings an off-key birthday tune. While your husband always seemed to thrive on being held at the center of attention, you noticed with a bit of amusement that his ears and cheeks were flushed pink as everyone focused their eyes upon him.

While the others continue to sing, you lean closer to your husband and whisper, “I know we will never surpass the wish you made last time, my Star. But go on and make one anyway.”

Astarion’s gaze roams around the room, taking in all the friends he collected this past decade. Then he turns to you and grins, pausing to etch every bit of this moment into his memory before closing his eyes and blowing the candles out to a cacophony of inebriated cheers and whoops.

The elf wished for the only thing he could: a healthy child and a long life with his little love. Fate had already gifted him with more than he could have imagined for himself back in those dark, dank dungeons he once called home. Astarion found himself in want of nothing but the health and happiness of the woman beside him and the safety of their offspring.

Though he knew it was another selfish ask, and he’d been blessed far more than he had ever expected, Astarion prayed to the gods that he once never thought would answer to grant him this last wish. And just in case they did not hear him the first time, he would be sure to make the same wish every year, until his very last.

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rhettabbotts · 4 months

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dreaming of a white christmas - rhett abbott x reader

pairing: rhett abbott x wife!reader

summary: in which christmas miracles still happen.

warnings: 18+ only. fluff. soft sex. oral (f receiving). christmas cheer. rhett’s the best husband. rhett walking around naked.

a/n: this is my submission for @lewmagoo’s christmas celebration! i’m so sorry it’s late my love but i hope you enjoy this little fic! and happy holidays to everyone! i hope it’s a good one 🩵.

“We’re looking at a warm and sunny Christmas day. No signs of accumulation over the next week.”

Weatherman Todd Carter crushed all of your dreams in one sentence. Every year since you could remember, there had been inches upon inches of snow throughout the month of December. This year was a little disappointing, but you had been holding out hope for Christmas.

That was your favorite thing about this time of year. The white snow covering the mountains like a blanket. The serene and beautiful landscape always made you feel like a child again.

The early mornings, bundled up from head to toe in snow gear heading out to feed the animals. The anticipation of Santa coming to visit as you baked cookies with your mother. It all reminded you of a happier time. And now thanks to Todd, you weren’t going to have that feeling this year.

Rhett came in that evening and could tell you were upset. It was your second Christmas in your new home and the place was decorated from floor to ceiling. He always said it looked like an elf threw up. You thought it was just enough, but you kept adding more every time you came back from the store.

“Hey, honey,” Rhett greeted you, planting a wet kiss to your cheek. “What’s the frown for?”

“Stupid Todd,” you mumbled as you stirred the cake batter for the chocolate cake you were baking.

“Todd? Who the hell-“

“The weatherman on Channel 7! He said there wasn’t gonna be any snow on Christmas!” You sounded like a spoiled child whining about not getting a toy. The corner of Rhett’s mouth quirked up. “It’s not funny. It’s depressing. We’ve always had a white Christmas.”

“Sweetheart, just because there’s not gonna be any snow doesn’t mean it’s going to be any less perfect. You’ll make sure of that,” Rhett swiped a finger in the cocoa mixture, licking it clean with a shit-eating grin on his face. “Good cake by the way.”

“It’ll be even better if you stop trying to give yourself salmonella,” you swatted at him to get out of the kitchen.

Rhett waltzed out of the kitchen with an extra swing in his step, his tight Wranglers leaving nothing to imagine. It was your favorite pair and he knew it. As he showered and cleaned up, you finished baking your cake. You even threw in a batch of cookies for the hell of it, trying to ignore Rhett’s voice saying in your head “stress baking.”

The holidays were such a wonderful time, but after you and Rhett had married it had become exhausting. Trying to find time for both families and leaving each place more overwhelmed than when you arrived was enough for you to decide to spend Christmas with each other this year.

The repeated questions of “when are you having kids? when are you going to move back to the ranch? why don’t you move closer to us?” wore you down to the point you nearly broke.

You wanted a family but children weren’t on the table at the moment. You and Rhett wanted to travel. See the world. Get out of the little small town you both grew up in.

A strong pair of arms wrapping around your middle snapped you from your thoughts, a scratchy jaw tickled your neck as feather light kisses were placed to your pulse point.

“I know that look. You’re thinkin’ too much again,” Rhett mumbled against your skin.

“Just thinking about you. About us,” you replied, swaying in his embrace.

“I can’t believe it’s our second Christmas. And it’s just us this year. Thank god,” Rhett muttered the last words. He couldn’t stand your aunt Susie. She was touchy.

Rhett continued placing soft kisses on your neck, causing you to moan quietly and lean your head back against his chest. You could feel him smirk. Smug bastard.

“You know… that fire I’ve got going looks real cozy…”

“What are you hinting at?”

“I’m saying I want to eat my wife out by the fire on Christmas Eve so she’ll stop pouting about no snow,” Rhett said bluntly, tightening his hold on you.

And he did just that. He laid out the softest blanket you had on the floor, laid you on your back and threw your legs over his shoulder. His tongue made slow figure eight movements from your clit to your pulsating entrance.

Your knuckles were white from the grip on his long locks, tugging harshly when his lips suctioned on your bud.

“Rhett- fuck- oh Go-God!” You stammered, hips bucking against his face.

He didn’t stop until your thighs were quaking and your juices covered his chin. He made a point to make dramatic slurping noises as he was pulling away.

“That’s it. I don’t need to open a single present tomorrow,” Rhett said as he placed his head on your lower stomach, kneading your thighs gently to stop them from shaking.

“Oh no. You’re opening those presents, mister. I have kept them a secret long enough.”

“I love you, baby.”

“Please fuck me now,” you pouted, practically pawing at him.

“Greedy little thing,” he teased.

So you made love all night by the fire, eventually falling asleep in your husband’s arms and dreaming of a snow white covered yard with two little girls running after Rhett.

The early morning sun shined brightly through the living room window, much brighter than it typically did. You blinked slowly, holding back a giggle at the sound of Rhett’s snoring. You knew he’d be complaining about his back later.

Wrapping an extra blanket around yourself, you made your way to the kitchen to start the coffee, not even bothering to look outside. You didn’t want to be disappointed.

As your cup finished brewing, you stood at the kitchen sink and nearly dropped the mug as you looked outside and saw nearly six inches of snow piled up out front.

You shrieked and caused Rhett to jump awake. He didn’t grab the blanket and stood in the middle of your living room stark naked.

“Where’s the fire?”

“THERE’S SNOW. A WHITE CHRISTMAS,” You exclaimed loudly, wrapping the blanket around you tighter and throwing the front door open. You were greeted with a bitter chill, one that went to the bone and brought a wide smile to your face.

It soon became too much and you hurried inside, Rhett still walking around without clothes on which didn’t surprise you.

“So Todd lied, huh?” Rhett joked as he sipped on your abandoned coffee.

“I could cry right now. A white Christmas. My favorite,” you whispered, grinning to yourself.

“Darlin’, I pray every Christmas will be white just so I can see this joy on your face every time,” Rhett said as he shimmied his way towards you.

“Go put some clothes on. I’ll start breakfast and then we’re doing presents.”

“Yes ma’am,” Rhett winked, yelping when you smack his ass as he walked away.

You spent the day with just the two of you, both laughing and crying at the different presents you got each other. You watched many Christmas movies while you snacked on the lunch you fixed and watched the snow as you drank hot cocoa. You saved White Christmas for last and you couldn’t stop yourself from shedding a tear as Bing Crosby crooned “may your days be merry and bright. and may all your Christmases be white.”

#a lew magoo christmas #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fluff #outer range #outer range fanfiction

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twitterpated-passion · 1 month

Text

Change | Monster Boyfriend

You weren’t a fan of change. It was just something new to get used to, and you didn’t see the point of changing your schedule when it already was fine. But then you were broken up with, and a morning text turned into silence, a midweek date after work turned into eating at the diner alone, and every little thing that reminded you of him was either returned to him, or thrown in a box that was shoved deep into your closet.

You weren’t a fan of change. But you were forced to become one. Because if you didn’t, you’d still be stuck in the past, and you didn’t want to think about him anymore. Even if you two did still live in the same small town that the both of you grew up in.

🌩--🌩--🌩

Your hand came down on the alarm, shutting up the annoying beeping that was the only reason you bought the thing in the first place. Taking a breath, you rubbed your eyes, sat up and stretched, feeling your bones pop and crack as you moved the blanket, turned your legs off the bed, and stood up, albeit begrudgingly.

After a shower and getting dressed, you went into the small kitchen of your townhouse, making yourself a bowl of oatmeal to at least eat something before you went into work. You got used to leaving your phone by your bedside table, preferring not to use it in the morning anymore, since in the beginning you’d wait like a dog does its master for that simple ‘good morning’ text. You shook your head free from the thought before you went down that rabbit hole, eating your somewhat bland breakfast, washing up the dishes and setting them aside to dry.

You slipped a pair of shoes on, and then grabbed your bag, going back to your room to grab your phone. Shoving it into your pocket, you made your way out the door and into your car, even though it was only ten minutes away if you walked. Still, you drove to your place of work, a quaint little pop and pop florist shop, owned by an older couple who used to babysit you when you were a kid.

You walked in, hearing the bell and going into the back to clock in, then going out to flip the sign to show that the shop was open and you found your seat behind the counter. Hearing steps behind you, you glanced back, smiling when you saw Laurie and Samuel. You saw the Dwarf and Elf smile back at you, and you leaned against the counter when you turned the stool to look at them. “You two are down here early, what’s the occasion?”

“Nothing,” Laurie was quick to dismiss, but the glance down to his husband was more than enough to tell you that it wasn’t just nothing.

“You’re still a bad liar, Laurie,” you said. “You two gonna tell me the truth or what?”

Laurie grimaced, but much to his visible relief, Samuel started speaking, voice gruff, like he just woke up, which he probably did, the Dwarf was never an early riser. “We thought you’d do better in tha’ back today, hm?”

“And…why’s that?” You asked, brows knitting together. You never went in the back, ever. It was always something Samuel took over because he liked the gardening aspect, while Laurie was the star seller out of the three of you. “Did I do something?”

They shook their heads quickly and Laurie took back over. “No…just…you know how this town is, people talk.”

“Right, we live in a small town, what’s going on?” The Elf took a breath, biting his lip.

“We know how hard you took the breakup, and we didn’t want you to be upfront if Callum comes in today,” he said after a moment. You tensed, but managed to ask one thing before your mind went blank.

“Why would he even come in here? He’s like the last guy that would come in here…” Trailing off, your heart clenched, but you weren’t going to show what you were thinking, not if it had the chance that you were wrong.

The two, however, noticed, reading the way your hands clenched your knees and how your shoulders got stiff. “...It’s going around that he’s going on a date with a new hire at the garage.”

You tried not to react, you really, truly did, but no matter how soft Laurie’s tone was, you still bit back the urge to tear up, your fists clenching against your legs. It had only been three months since the break up, and while you knew that he was allowed to move on, start dating again, you couldn’t help the way that the thought of him dating someone else made you feel. It was only natural, the two of you were dating for almost five years, starting right after the two of you graduated high school, and he moved on after three months.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you felt their hands on your legs, and you shook your head, forcing yourself to act normally. “I’ll be fine,” you started, a bit weakly, “we’re not together, he can do what he wants.”

Managing a smile, you breathe out a huff, and turn back to the front door of the shop, knowing that if you looked at them and their sympathetic expression, you would’ve broken down.

You could handle it. You were going to have to.

🌩--🌩--🌩

The shop never got many customers during a work day, most of the customers coming right after they get off for a date night, an apology bouquet or just something for their partner. Your foot was tapping against the stool the entire time you were sitting, and you could help but pace around whenever you had to get up. You hated the fact that the thought of him coming in made you this nervous, but you had good reason to when the bell rang, and Laurie failed to greet the heavy steps.

You didn’t look at him for a while, keeping your back facing him as he talked quietly to Laurie, getting a bundle of roses and carnations, pink and red. Your hands trembled, and you turned in the stool to price the bouquet, never meeting his gaze when he placed the flowers down beside the old monitor you and the other two used to check people out.

“Hi,” Callum said after a couple seconds of tense silence, his low voice more familiar than anyone else’s in your life. You looked up at the Minotaur, your eyes meeting his brown gaze, the fur on his face still slightly dirty, and his hands stained from his work at the garage.

“Thirteen-fifty is your total,” you said in response, almost bitter in your lack of wanting to make small talk with him. It pained you to be cold to him, but he didn’t say anything else to you, simply handing you his card and letting you read it in the machine, handing it back to him with a receipt seconds after. You let Laurie give him the ‘have a nice day’ shtick, walking back to ‘help’ out Samuel, even though the work day was over in an hour and a half.

You heard the bell to the door right as you walked back, and your back hit the wall, getting Samuel’s attention right as tears welled in your waterline, your bottom lip trembled and you sniffled, shutting your eyes tightly to stop yourself from crying. But despite your efforts, the tears ran down your cheeks, and soon you had both men trying to comfort you, holding you in both of their arms to offer any form of solace.

They closed the shop early, something you tried to argue with, but you learned quickly that you couldn’t really speak while crying, so it didn’t work other than making you seem like a mess, which you admittedly were. And when the sign was flipped and the door was locked, the blinds sitting over the windows, they all but dragged you up to the apartment above the shop, the home you practically grew up in with the amount of times that they babysat you. It was to keep you from being upset and alone at your own place, you knew that, they sure as hell knew that. You didn’t blame them though.

Laurie made dinner for the three of you and Samuel settled beside you, rough hand holding onto yours as he let you flick through movie after movie until you settled on one you considered one of your favorites.

As the movie played and the three of you were gouging on carbs, you sat off to the side, letting the couple sit beside each other, even though at first they were hesitant to not have you in the middle. You were better tucked into the arm of their small couch though, it let you think and drown out the movie you’ve seen more times than you can count.

Seeing Callum earlier both made your heart race and stabbed it with a knife at the same time. He wasn’t there for you, like he was times before, and if you knew why the breakup happened…if he would’ve given you at least some closure, you would’ve been fine- happy for him even. But it was only three months since it happened, and you still had no idea what happened to cause him to want to break up with you. It was like a switch flipped and suddenly you were single.

You closed your eyes once you were done eating, setting your empty plate aside and dragging a hand down your face to get you out of your thoughts. You were just going to have to accept it. That was the only thing you were able to do at that point.

🌩--🌩--🌩

It was four months since the breakup, and three weeks since Callum came in last. He hadn’t been in since, which didn’t exactly mean much, since he never really did flowers unless it was a birthday or anniversary, and even then he focused more on interests than just flowers. But you hadn’t heard anything else about his date with the new hire in his garage. You had practically bullied Laurie and Samuel into telling you anything, and it came up to nothing, so you chalked it up to nothing being shared, or nothing happening between the two.

You felt weird, being so into your ex’s personal life, but if anything, he invited you into it by going to the shop he knew you worked at to buy flowers for them. No- that just felt petty.

The shop’s bell ringing snapped you out of your thoughts, petty and otherwise, and you looked up, parting your lips to speak, before you snapped your mouth shut when you saw that it was the Minotaur you were just thinking about. You looked down at papers, acting like you haven’t seen him and silently wishing Laurie was still out here instead of in the back with Samuel. It meant you actually had to talk to him.

You glanced up when you heard him say your name, and after breathing out a sigh, you got up from the stool, walking over to the flowers. “Roses and carnations?”

“No, actually. I’m not here for flowers…” There he was. There was the Callum you knew. “The shop closes in an hour, yea?”

You nodded. “Like it normally does.”

He paused for a moment, and nodded, walking up to you and reaching out to brush his fingers against your arm. “Do you wanna go to Izzie’s after you’re off? Our usual table? I need to talk to you.”

It sounded serious, and you didn’t miss the way his soft voice made your heart flip. “...About?”

“...I really just want to tell you then…so…please?” He was begging now. He was actually begging. You closed your eyes for a few seconds and you nodded, looking up at him when you opened your eyes.

“Fine…fine, I’ll go,” you said. Your expression softened when you saw his deep brown eyes light up, the evening glow coming in through the windows making the color look like it had golden flakes mixed with the brown.

“Great- perfect, thank you. It’s my treat, so don’t worry about whatever you get.” Your brow twitched and furrowed, but you nodded again, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

“You don’t have to-”

“Don’t,” he said, lifting a hand. “Just- just let me treat you, ok?”

“Ok,” you breathe out, watching him with a sigh.

The last hour went by slowly, feeling like it was an entire day, and the moment the clock hit seven, you raced out with barely a ‘see ya’ to Laurie and Samuel. With your bag gripped tightly in your hand, you unlocked your car and threw it into your passenger seat, getting into the driver’s seat afterwards. You pulled out onto the road and began driving across town to Izzie’s.

When you pulled in, you managed to pull in beside his van, the nostalgia and familiarity of the late nights in it sending you whirling, but you got out of your car, locked it up and headed straight into the front doors. You were sure you looked desperate, wanting something akin to how you were back when you were with Callum, and you knew you should be trying to move on…trying to get over him, but gods, did you not want to do anything resembling moving on when he asked you to the spot you guys had weekly date nights at.

And when you saw him, your heart started racing, seeing that he was sitting in the booth the two of you used to sit in every wednesday. You forced yourself to slow yourself to a walking pace, making your way over to him before slipping into the booth, sitting across from him as if you didn’t care for any of this.

He smiled when he saw you, and pushed his menu over to you. “Pick what you want. Even if it’s your usual.”

“You know you don’t have to pay for me,” you said after taking a quick glance at the menu. You knew what you were getting, it was all you ever got when you came here. Nothing could go wrong with a vanilla shake and loaded fries in your mind.

“Yea, but I want to,” he responded, waving the thought of him not doing it away. “I invited you out, I’ll pay.”

You let out a breath, but nodded and set the menu down, pushing it away. Your leg bounced, not stopping until a large hand touched your knee and your eyes met his. “Why’re you nervous, Moonlight?”

You could barely process the pet name, tensing under his touch and staring at him with furrowed brows. “...We’re exes…why wouldn’t I be nervous that you wanted to talk?”

Something flashed in his eyes, something that you thought looked akin to hurt the way his lips pursed a little, and he moved back, moving the long hair from his eyes, then on the normal chain he wore on his horns after he got off of work. “Do you want to start talking now or after we get food?” “Now, please…” you said. He nodded and moved his hand from your knee, then held his hand out, palm up. He left his hand there, even after you didn’t take it, keeping the offer there.

“Right…right…” Callum breathed out, his bullnose ring glinting in the light. “I regret breaking up with you…”

You tensed again, your thoughts spinning around you, and it felt like the world around you went silent. He…he regretted it? “...You regret it?”

“Yea,” he started. “...If…if it’s alright with you…I’d…I’d like to try again…maybe?”

Your lips parted and you gave him a look that just screamed confusion, mixed a hint of disbelief. “You want to…try again? After breaking up with me out of nowhere and going out on a date with someone else?”

He flinched at the questions and gave you an apologetic look, trying to grab your hand. “...Let me explain…-”

You smacked his hand away and stood up, holding your hands up in mock surrender. “Let you explain what? Why you want me back, or why you broke up with me?”

He glanced around and tried to usher you back in the booth. “Moonlight, please sit down,” he said softly.

“Or what?” He took a pause, sighing and standing, grabbing your arm before you could pull it away and guiding the both of you outside and to your cars, lifting his hands when you settled against your passenger’s side door.

“Please, don’t fight with me,” Callum said after a moment. “Let me explain…whether you accept it or not is up to you, but please just hear me out.”

You took awhile to answer, and you didn’t even do it verbally, offering him a single nod and a hand wave. He sighed again. “I know saying that I want to try again after going on a date with someone else is…not the best thing to hear…and I promise it’s not because the date didn’t go well. I genuinely regret breaking up with you and I’m such an idiot for doing it.”

“Then why did you do it?” You asked, not trying to fight, or to respond sounding like an ass, just…wanting to know.

“I didn’t want you to hate me,” he responded.

“What? Why would I hate you?” Callum slowly reached his hand out, waiting for you to grab it and his expression softened when you did.

“We got together out of high school…we were our first actual relationship and…I didn’t want you to start resenting me for holding you back in the future…and I…I knew it wouldn’t happen, but the possibility of me feeling the same made me want to die…I just thought we’d be better if we explored…” He trailed off when he was done, waiting for a response from you, his nerves apparent.

It took you another long, drawn out moment before you finally replied to him. “And you regret doing it now?”

He nodded. “Yea…I was regretting it when I did it…but I thought it’d get better, that if I just held out you’d be happier. And I went on the date…I can’t say I hated it, because they were nice, but I was thinking of you the entire time, how you’d react if I took you there…what you’d wear, which place we’d go to after, what movie we’d inevitably fall asleep to…”

Your heart was pounding again, a slow but loud sound hammering away at your ribs. But he spoke before you could. “I still…- you’re the person I think of when I wake up, and you’re the person I think of when I go to bed and I hate that I ruined us when I still constantly think about how much I love you.”

“Callum…” you said softly, squeezing back when he squeezed your hand. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“...I don’t know…I thought you’d think I was ridiculous or something…”

“So you went straight to break up with me?” You pushed up from your car, taking a step towards the Minotaur. “You should’ve talked to me.”

“I know I should’ve. And I regret that I didn’t, but I don’t want what we had to end…will you at least think about giving me a second chance?”

You didn’t have to think when you nodded, grabbing his other hand and squeezing them both. “...I’ll think about it. But you have to earn that, alright?”

He managed a smile, nodding back at you firmly. “I’ll make you weak in the knees faster than you can blink.”

And to tease him, you blinked, grinning when he laughed.

🌩--🌩--🌩

It was exactly four months later, but you were three ‘second chance’ dates in with Callum, finally folding after he consistently made an effort, constantly threatening being late to his shift at the garage to drop off a coffee, tea or pastry at the shop, and to occasionally earn a kiss on the cheek after he kissed yours. Laurie and Samuel were practically sick at seeing the two of you, despite the amount of PDA the couple were giving each other at every possible opportunity.

At that very moment though, you were relaxing on the worn couch in Callum’s home garage, watching him work on his van and all in all, enjoying your day off.

“You’re awfully quiet, Moonlight,” Callum said, wiping his hands off with an old rag. “What’s on your pretty, little mind?”

Your cheeks warmed, but you rolled your eyes. “Just admiring, Sunshine.”

“Yea? You still into something you’ve seen for five years?” He asked, teasing tone blatant.

“Obviously,” you chuckled. “I’ll still like this fifty years from now.”

He hummed and walked over to you, lifting your legs to settle beside you, resting your legs over his. “You really think so?”

“I know so, Callum.”

You didn’t like change, but you could get used to this…instead of sticking to how it was before.

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