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a-monsters-love · 4 years

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Hi!! I know this is super dramatic but I was wondering if you’d be willing to write some ✨angst✨ Maybe Todoroki, Hawks, Bakugo Midoriya (take your pick if that’s too many) reacting to their s/o taking a particularly bad hit for them? Enough to knock them out of a fight. If you needed an idea for a quirk, maybe a short burst teleportation quirk? Just an idea! Thanks for taking the time to read this! 🖤

Oh man, I love drama but let’s see if I know how to write angst, and I LOVE THAT QUIRK IDEA. I had a similar idea for a fic that’s been pinned until I get ✨inspiration✨ aND HERE WE ARE. Also thank you so much for the request and for being so polite 💛

The idea I had was inspired by Vanellope von Schweetz from Wreck-It-Ralph, like a glitch quirk. I’m gonna make the 1-A boys pro hero’s for this because it’s so much more work to do it while they’re still in school, I’m cutting Izuku cause I can’t see anything but crying or our feral child in the latest update and oh man it hurts too much.

These are a fraction shorter than I would’ve liked them to be however i wrote them on my phone so they looked longer lmao

——————

[Master List]

Todoroki Shoto:

Hours. It’s been hours since this fight had begun, or so it felt like. You were panting heavily, Shoto watched you stand your ground firmly. You took a deep meditative breath, you smiled softly at him and glitched. You appeared on a window ledge behind the steel villain and went in to distract him while Shoto went to work. He looked around and noticed you were cornering the villain where less civilians were around. The villain turned as if to attack you but made a quick action to attack Shoto off guard, you glitched towards your husband to stop the steel needles from impacting him. “(Y/N)!” He screamed, your hand was so close but the world went black.

Shoto watched as several thick steel needles pierced through your body, you smiled softly at him and you eyes closed before you hit the ground. Tears sizzled before they could run down his cheeks, he saw red and froze the villain quickly. He didn’t care about the repercussions, he didn’t care what would happen, all he wanted was for you to be alive at the end of the day.

He sat there with you in his arms as blood pooled around the two of you staining your respective uniforms. A medic removed you from his arms and he followed silently. He didn’t say anything in the ambulance, he didn’t say anything while you were in surgery, he didn’t say anything as you were transferred to a hospital room.

Days that passed turned into weeks before you opened your eyes, when you did you see his bi-colored hair as he slept snuggled into your arm leaned onto your hospital bed. You smiled softly and pet his hair with you opposing hand, a deep breath leaves you. Shoto stirs and rubs his eyes as he sits up, his left side lights aflame as his emotions run wild. “Hey.” You said, your voice was scratchy and muffled from the oxygen mask.

“Hey.” His voice shook as sat up, he clutched your hand in his and squeezed it lightly. “(Y/N)- I- you can’t…” His words hitched in his throat.

You sighed and smiled softly again, “I’m sorry, Sho.” Tears left your eyes, you couldn’t imagine how he must feel. “My body just-“ Moved on its own, you chuckled softly at the thought.

He chuckled getting the point of what you were going to say, he kissed your forehead softly. “Try not to do that again…” He nearly whispered the words, you could felt him shaking. You couldn’t promise you wouldn’t do it again, but you could promise to try.

Takami Keigo (Hawks):

You didn’t know how he could flirt while fighting, at first sure it was cute and sure you love him but, “Hawks! Is this really the time?” You tried not to hiss at him blushing in embarrassment and frustration.

He gave his award winning smile, “Of course, Angel! How else am I supposed to keep up morale?” You snorted at his comment and rolled your eyes.

“Focus, Birdy.” You jumped out of the way before colliding with cement being thrown at you. You glitched towards the villain before he could touch the ground again, as soon as you reformed in front of him your stomach felt hot. You coughed up blood and looked down. You materialized into the villains knife, looking back at your boyfriend a tear streamed down your cheek. “Focus…” Your voice was almost a whisper as your body fell towards the earth.

“DOVE!” His cry was almost a screech. Keigo’s eyes narrowed as he sent the last of his feathers towards you to soften your landing. “THAT’S ENOUGH.” He charged towards the villain but your words echoed in his mind ‘focus’. Hawks retrieved his longest feathers that now dripped with your blood, he saw red but kept hearing your words. He made quick work incapacitating the villain before rushing to find you. You’d already been taken into an ambulance and ushered off to the emergency room.

Keigo paced enough to wear a trench into the ground while you were in surgery. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as the surgery sign turned off. He was told to rest by a nurse but refused until he saw you.

You slept for a few days before waking up, when you did he was staring at you wide eyed. He was surprised to see you awake but gods was he relieved. He wore what one might consider pajamas, his sweatpants were pulled up to his knees, his shirt and sweater were disheveled. He had dark heavy bags under his eyes the indicated he wasn’t handling you being out very well. “Angel..” He spoke softly.

You smiled and winced painfully as you adjusted, Keigo stood quickly to help you adjust the lift in the bed. “Hey Birdy..” You coughed out, “You look like hell.”

He rubbed his face and snorted, “Dove. Is this really the time?” He was grateful you could make jokes even while on deaths doorsteps.

You smirked, “How else am I supposed to keep up the morale?” You teased, quoting his comment the day of the fight. You both chuckled softly before silent set in. “I’m sorry Kei, I should’ve been paying more attention.” Your hand grazed over your newest scar.

Keigo goes to say something with a smile but it quickly drops, he looks at his hands as they shake. “I… I don’t know what I would’ve done with out you…” He glances up at you with misty eyes. “Don’t scare me like that, (Y/N)…”

Guilt sets in your stomach as tears well in your own eyes, “I didn’t mean to-“ You reached out your arms and he climbed into the hospital bed beside you. You pet his hair until he fell asleep, you both knew this was part of being a hero but this was the last thing you wanted.

Bakugo Katsuki:

Just once, just once you’d like to have a normal date with your boyfriend. Sure, you’re both hero’s and sure, it’s not like villains had a schedule you could follow and plan around. Fuck, just once you’d love if King Murder Explosion himself would just let other hero’s handle things themselves.

You glitched around the street collecting and moving civilians, “Ground Zero, the western street is clear!” You shout up to him.

A smirk grows on his lips as he follows your lead, blasting the villain to the street you cleared. You start clearing the surrounding streets as you knew how your boyfriend was, blasty boi couldn’t avoid making a bigger mess than needed. “COME ON! SCARED?” He chided with the villain, edging him on.

The oversized criminal threw an empty car towards Katsuki who blasted it to the ground. Things being thrown and blasted back and fourth continued for a moment when you heard a cry for help. A child, you thought. You look back at the two fighting and glitched towards the sound, you teleported between rubble slowly finding your way to them. “Hey… it’s gonna be alright.” You said in a hushed toned as you found their little hand, glitching them into your arms. “Hey- Hi kiddo, I’m here now.” You pet their hair as the sobbed silently, trekking back to safety.

You could only glitch one person at a time safely, the last thing you needed was to glitch a possibly injured child into having a seizure. “(Y/N)!” You heard Katsuki shout, “LOOK OUT!!” He howled, you looked back too slow and glitched the child to safety.

By the time your quirk confirmed they had materialized safely you were struck in the head with a large chunk on concrete. Everything was dizzying and then black, “Suki..” You mumbled as you hit the ground.

The next explosion was loud, aggressive. Katsuki hadn’t seen that much rage since high school. After everything that happened and then meeting you, you the woman he wanted to marry, gods he saw red. He debilitated the villain in a series of large blasts, bellowing for medics who arrived at the scene. He screamed at them to hurry up and help you, screamed until he was sure it was burned in their brains before fizzling.

The world had never seemed so silent, everything ached. Everything was dull and lifeless as he waited for you to wake up. They claimed you’d be fine, Recovery Girl had come to see you. Now was just a waiting game, Katauki’s patience was thin but he’d wait for you for the rest of his life.

You woke that evening to quiet bickering, you can hear Katsuki on the phone. You assumed it was Kirishima, you smirked thinking about how much your boyfriend has calmed down in the passed years. “No, I couldn’t ask her! You really think I had the time? We’re in the fuCKING HOSPITAL!” He hissed.

You hummed, “..Suki?” You ask, he disconnects the line as soon as he heard your voice and walks over to your bed.

“Why didn’t you teleport to safety?” He jeered.

You sigh and look at the ceiling, “I had a child with me, I couldn’t.” You rubbed your eyes and looked at him. His gaze softened and he sat down.

He sighed and pressed his face into both of his palms, “Today was supposed to be fucking special, I always fuck this shit up.” You hummed in curiosity, a blush crept up his ears.

“Everyday is special with you, Suki. Stop being so hard on yourself.” You chuckle softly.

He looks up and rests his chin on one of his hands, the other reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small velvety box, “That’s not what I meant...” He huffed and handed you the box.

You sat up awkwardly and took the box, opening it to see a ring set. It was simple but it fit the two of you, tears bubbles up in your eyes. “Katsuki-“ Your voice hitched in your throat and he slouched back in his seat while ruffling his hair. “Of course, oh my god-“ The two of you chuckled and you reached out for him to come closer, you pressed your lips to his for a chaste kiss. “So, who’s idea was it to make you do all the extra frivolousness?” You snort at him and he shot up.

He growled slightly ruffling his hair aggressively, “I KNEW YOU DIDN’T NEED ALL THAT SHIT.” You burst into laughter and groaned at the ache in your head, maybe you could get a day from him to go on a date.

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lesbianlotties · 3 years

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the only touchstone of truth - Marla x Fran - I Care A Lot (2021)

Chapter 5:

Soon enough, they left the police sirens behind. It was just Fran driving the bike around town, with Marla’s arms comfortably wrapped around her, completely free. No reason to dwell in the past, no excuses, just the two of them going after whatever they wanted together. During the ride to Fran’s home, Marla felt herself relax. She was closing an unsatisfactory chapter of her life, and moving forward she was carrying with her plenty of lessons learned. She was excited to try a much different approach to life and business. There would be no rules except hers. There would be risks and she would conquer them all. She would never lose again, no matter how dirty she’d have to play.

She would need to find a new business, a new plan and she couldn’t take too long, but it was reasonable that with the smell of Fran’s cologne surrounding her there was only one thing in her mind: the possibility of a partner. In business. In crime. In life. Those words could be overused, Marla was interested in something different, something unique. It was useless to say she needed someone clever, bold, fearless, exciting but safe. She didn’t need anybody. Marla wanted Fran. There was a very significant difference. Maybe it was time to start this new chapter of her life taking the biggest risk possible, just once, and she could swear to never try again if this didn’t work. But, for now, as fiercely as she took every choice in her life, Marla decided to give her heart a chance, a chance to beat again and do it for Fran, go crazy for Fran, and believe the two of them together could be exactly what they used to believe was impossible.

Just in time, Fran slowed down, they’d reached their destination. She offered Marla a hand to help her from the bike, and her smile was a fascinating sight. That smile was eager, hungry, and just the slightest bit nervous. “Are you sure?” Fran asked the other woman, there on the street outside her apartment, under a clear sky, plenty of reasons and directions to run.

“Always,” Marla replied confidently. It was the complete truth. She never acted uncertain of her next move. If she’d made it all the way to Fran’s doorstep it was because she had already pictured every possible scenario and determined that even if the worst happened, she’d still come out a winner. It was difficult to believe that anything but victory was possible whenever Fran looked at her like that, earnest wide brown eyes all for her.

Additionally, Marla was a woman of actions more than words. She expressed her certainty on her choices with the way that a few seconds later she had Fran pinned to the door of her apartment. With Marla’s lips on her neck and fingers digging on her hips, Fran had trouble concentrating on opening the door. “We should go in,” she said, in order to hold back a moan.

“Aw, are you sure?” Marla laughed against her neck, enjoying the way Fran’s body reacted to her.

“Fuck, come here,” Fran hastily opened the door. She moved swiftly, with all the agility she used to knock down a man taller and heavier than her only minutes ago, she was just as deadly and much more passionate as she pulled Marla into the apartment and immediately pushed her against the locked door. “My turn,” she groaned, ready to pay Marla back for all the teasing, all the dreams, all the looks, and secret touches that finally brought them to this moment. Her lips latched hungrily to Marla’s neck, exploring without pause and without hurry. Her hands pulled the blonde’s hips towards her, and Marla sighed, her head falling back against the door. One of Fran’s thighs moved between the other woman’s legs, driving her crazy.

When Fran’s lips and teeth reached Marla’s ear, the blonde knew her patience was running thin. “Fran, let’s go,” she said, not exactly sounding like an order considering the breathiness of her voice, and the way her nails scratched Fran’s back of her t-shirt, desperate to have her closer.

Begrudgingly, Fran pulled away, but she was smiling. She turned around and led her guest up the stairs. Marla missed her touch, but she couldn’t hold back her smile, knowing how likely it was that Fran did this on purpose, knowing Marla was fascinated with the view of following behind her up the stairs. When they reached the landing, the two women were presented with a handful of new options, a drink in the kitchen, the sofa in the living room, the stairs that led to Fran’s bedroom. The hunger inside her was for once too mighty and big for Marla to carry by herself. Instinctively she wrapped her arms around the brunette from behind and rested her head on her shoulder, exhaling a pleased sigh as Fran did her best to bring her even closer.

“Nice apartment,” Marla commented, inhaling Fran’s cologne again, and glancing at the comfortable, sparsely decorated apartment, bathed in the light coming in from the windows and a random lamp left on.

“It’s my mother’s.”

“Is she…” Marla wondered, finally moving and stepping back so she could look at Fran’s smile as she answered.

“Locked in a care home and paying for this so I can do whatever the fuck I want with my life? Yeah.”

“God,” Marla sighed, her hands reaching for Fran again, her lips demanding her kisses again, their bodies meeting desperately again. She couldn’t tell what exactly it was about Fran’s statement that lighted something up inside. Later, the words could spark up an idea. At the moment, it was all about Fran’s tone, unashamed and even proud to expose the worst of herself during the moments when anyone else would try to appear better than they are. The best part was the fact that Fran confessed to those most twisted parts of herself, knowing precisely that Marla would be attracted to it. She knew she was everything Marla wanted, she was not afraid to use that to her advantage, and it worked to perfection. Marla felt on the edge of dizziness by the completely unfamiliar feeling of fighting for the upper hand, feeling like Fran knew her one weakness, and somehow being happy at the fact.

They were trying to go up the stairs but it was increasingly difficult to part from one another to breathe, let alone to take more than two steps. Again Marla was pinned between Fran and the wall, realizing she had to have at least one hand on Fran’s ass at all times. Meanwhile, Fran was content with a hand on the back of Marla’s neck, keeping her head in place while they kissed, and her other hand had found purchase in the blonde woman’s chest. Finally, her fingers started playing with the zipper of Marla’s hoodie, while they noticed each other begin smiling while they kissed. Slowly but surely Fran tugged the zipper down, until the garment was open, and she could pull back from the kiss to stare in awe at the sight in front of her.

“Fuck, you planned this,” Fran whispered. She couldn’t take her eyes off Marla’s chest, with no shirt underneath, there was only the gorgeous black bra that was all lace and delicacy and fit her so perfectly that Marla had to bring her hand to Fran’s chin to get her to look at her in the eyes again.

“Take me to your bedroom now, okay?”

Once they finally made it to the bedroom, Marla was glad to have her back meet the wall once again. They’d finally made it and it felt like Fran was on a mission. Again, the brunette attacked Marla’s neck, but soon enough she explored her collarbone, and moved down to her chest. Marla held her in place with her hand getting lost in Fran’s mane of hair. She’d expected the bra to come off, but Fran was appreciative enough of it to leave it on for now, which didn’t stop her lips from finding Marla’s nipples, kissing, running her tongue over them, working them up as much as she could until the hand on her hair tightened enough to let her know Marla wanted more.

Then Fran contentedly started her first descent on Marla’s body, kissing everywhere, kissing softly, licking teasingly, biting here and there. The entire time her hands had been working on the button and zipper of the black pants, until all at once the pants landed on the floor and Fran was kneeling in front of Marla. From there she could still see the way the blonde’s chest rose and fell heavily with each breath, and she took pride in the goosebumps her touch left on the graceful body in front of her. Fran took her time kissing Marla’s thighs and hips, and only when she felt nails scratching her scalp and urging her on, she granted her a kiss right over her underwear. The smallest sigh of pleasure escaped Marla, and inspired Fran to go for more. Another kiss and another, one thorough lick over her, overjoyed to find she had made her wet enough to get a taste of her without even taking off her underwear, which was a stunning little thing that matched her bra.

“Don’t tease,” Marla groaned when she realized the other woman’s kisses were back to a feather-like quality that made her weak at the knees but desperate for something more, a lot more.

“No?” Fran grinned playfully, resting her cheek against the soft thigh in front of her and looking up at Marla.

She appeared perfectly to be kneeling down there. But Marla brushed Fran’s hair off her face and said, “Get on the bed.”

Fran gulped but followed instructions, getting comfortable on her own bed and facing the realization that never had she been so excited to sit there and watch another woman walk toward her. Marla was only wearing her underwear and promptly decided to guide the other woman down the same path. She got on the bed straddling Fran’s thighs, and the first thing she did was remove the brunette’s shirt. Maybe she’d bought a bra for the occasion, but Fran had apparently decided to go without one, inspiring Marla to whisper against her lips, “I see I’m not the only one who prepared for this.”

Fran chuckled at the words, and her laughter turned to a breathy gasp when she was pushed to lay down in bed. It was Marla’s turn to let her lips, teeth, and tongue take care of Fran’s skin. She went down her jawline, stopped to tug on her earlobe, and down the length of her neck. By the time Marla reached Fran’s chest, the two of them were close to losing their minds over the pleasure. Fran started biting her lip and still, the occasional moan escaped her with each graze of Marla’s teeth on her skin. Marla was enjoying the work just as much, and almost without noticing her hips had started to grind on Fran’s lap, until a particular movement brought her so much pleasure she knew it was time to keep going.

Marla pulled away from Fran’s body completely, much to the other woman’s disappointment. When Fran leaned up on her elbows to see what had happened, she found Marla standing up again, now unbuttoning Fran’s pants and taking them and her underwear off at once. When she had Fran naked in front of her, she said, “Do you realize I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you?”

Fran smiled. The air between them was heavy and electric, the brush of their fingertips on each other’s bodies left a burning trail, and their eyes were alight with desire, but still, still there was space for a smile. Still, they could tease each other and laugh, and she could smile. She could smile genuinely, because they both knew how well they fit together, because they both could tell how good this was, and it was worth smiling for.

“This is only the beginning,” Fran replied, and offered Marla a hand, guiding her back into bed.

This time their bodies immediately intertwined, their hands were all curiosity and restlessness and nails down their backs. Finally, Fran said goodbye to the last two pieces of clothing from Marla, but she also found herself lying on her back, with the stunning blonde on top of her, taking her breath away. Fran had already had a taste of Marla, and she was desperate for more, but Marla’s palm resting low on her stomach kept her glued to the bed, eager and ready.

“Can I?” Marla smiled, and this time it was almost the kind of grin she gave strangers to get what she wanted, but not quite. It was genuine thrill. There was amusement in her tone, a rosy tone in her cheeks, and desire in her eyes. Her thumb was soothingly caressing Fran’s skin. I got you, please let me, I know you want me, so please, her smile said silently.

Quickly, Fran nodded, and subconsciously held her breath until the first contact of Marla’s fingers on her got her to exhale a small whine. Graceful fingers went down on her, and back up through warmth and wetness, circling around her clit once, twice, light as a feather, and continuing her exploration more confidently with each passing second. Her touch and the determination in the magnificent blue eyes that didn’t miss the smallest expressions of pleasure on her face were too much to bear, and Fran closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure.

“Good?” Marla whispered when her fingers started picking up speed. First, she got her response by an uncontrollable twitch of the brunette’s hips.

“Yeah,” Fran replied, her voice was a tense whisper carried mostly by pleasure, “Marla, come here.” She placed her hand on the back of Marla’s head and pulled in for a messy kiss, an attempt at quieting down her moans, though the way they slipped right into the other woman’s mouth got Marla moaning as well. Not long later, Marla’s finger slowed down and started applying pressure on Fran’s entrance, she received a bite on her lip and “Yes, yes,” from Fran, who moved her other hand to wrap her finger around Marla’s wrist, holding her hand between her legs, urging her in, groaning at the feeling.

Marla worked efficiently and fast, yet she found herself acting more careful and attentive than she could remember ever being with somebody else. She was fascinated by every single sound from Fran’s lips, every twitch of her muscles. When the woman underneath her couldn’t hold a kiss anymore, Marla went back to Fran’s neck, kissing and licking and determined to leave a mark by the time Fran would tremble in her arms, moan her name, and fall down back in bed exhausted after coming down from a burning high of pleasure.

Slowly and gently, Marla pulled out her fingers, tenderly massaging her way out until it earned her a whine from Fran, who wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close to her body, reveling in the comfort it brought her.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Marla confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, and she started leaving the smallest of kisses on Fran’s temple, her cheek, her jaw, and the corner of her lips. “I’m crazy for you,” she admitted, finally kissing her lips, slowly, thoroughly. She almost didn’t notice that Fran’s hands hadn’t stayed still since they wrapped around her.

“Marla,” Fran sighed, gently pushing Marla’s blonde hair off her face so they could look at each other.

“Hm, what are you thinking of?” Marla wondered, tenderly nudging Fran’s nose with hers, noticing how thoughtful the brunette suddenly looked.

At first, Fran was silent. Her mind, even in the midst of so much pleasure, was overfilled with thoughts about Marla. Things that were too early to say, things that should probably wait until a third or fourth round, things that she couldn’t put into words either way. “Let me show you,” she finally said, softly, while she carefully moved her legs and their bodies so Marla was just hovering above one of her legs, “Yeah?”

After receiving a resolute nod from Marla, Fran placed both hands on the other woman’s hips, and slowly guided her down to straddle her thigh. She noticed Marla’s breath caught, and she flexed her thigh to cause the friction that got the other woman to moan at the feeling.

“Feels good?” Fran asked, her hands firmly but lovingly pushing and pulling until Marla was purposefully grinding on her thigh. The blonde dropped her head on Fran’s shoulder and moaned appreciatively. “So good,” Fran added, her voice rough. She moved her face to kiss as much of Marla as she could, sucking a particular spot on her neck until Marla’s moans turned into a demand for more.

With a strong arm wrapped around Marla’s waist, Fran inverted their positions, laying the other woman down on her bed. “Let me show you,” she repeated, her eyes meeting Marla’s. There was a heart-stopping look on that pair of blue eyes. Most people that had faced Marla wouldn’t have believed such a tender and open look was possible in her eyes. After everything they had gone through, it was obvious this silent moment between them was about far more than the sex, but if they were going to communicate through it, Fran was going to make sure it was damn good. She kissed the valley between Marla’s breasts once, almost reverently, and her hands traveled over Marla’s body with an affection that couldn’t be easily explained so soon and made Marla’s heart skip a beat.

But then Fran started kissing her way down Marla’s body for the second time that night, this time she wasn’t thinking about teasing, not much at least. This time she wasn’t met with the elegant barrier of the forgotten underwear, and instead, she was welcomed by Marla’s legs parting in invitation. Fran got comfortable and licked her lips in anticipation. She shared one last look with Marla and sweetly kissed her thigh once before reaching her destination.

Fran moaned at the taste of Marla again, and she treated her as well as she knew how and then some more. Her lips and tongue were relentless, pushing Marla to the edge, soothing her, speeding up again and again while the sounds of both their pleasure filled the room. With all her senses overwhelmed by everything about Marla, Fran wished she wouldn’t have to move away from between the other woman’s legs the entire night. Her wish was somewhat satisfied when Marla, after one delicious climax that got her back arching from the bed, latched both hands on Fran’s hair, urging her to stay there, to go on, letting her know she needed her.

After another peak of pleasure in which Marla could feel nothing but Fran, and Fran thought of nothing but the taste and sounds coming from Marla, their bodies demanded a pause. The blonde kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, letting her body revel in the feelings that followed Fran’s worship of her body. She felt deliciously warm, comfortable, a perfect combination of safe and excited that she was associating more and more with Fran with each passing day. When the rustling of sheets beside her stopped, Marla tried biting her lip to keep herself from smiling. But when she opened her eyes and took a glance at the stunning brunette lying on her back beside her, she couldn’t hold back her grin.

“You don’t have to look so proud,” Marla teased her. Immediately she took the initiative to kiss that smug look right off Fran’s pink lips.

Fran hummed contentedly against her lips. “Bossy in bed too, huh?” Her body flinched in bed as Marla tickled her in retaliation, but she didn’t move far enough to stop kissing. “Don’t worry, Marla, I like it,” she added, and was rewarded with an enticing bite to her lower lip. The couple started making out in a way that ruined whatever plans they had had of slowing down their erratic breathing and taking a break. In a minute, Fran was sliding on top of Marla, straddling her waist and kissing her with all the enthusiasm of their first kiss.

“Again?” Marla asked with a laugh when they separated from the kissing to take a moment to breathe. She wasn’t complaining though. There was nothing but sheer delight in her eyes as she studied the glorious body in front of her. Her hands delicately caressed every inch of Fran’s skin they could reach, taking her time, enjoying the feeling, learning as much as she could of her reactions.

“What?” Fran smirked, “are you tired?” She was standing tall, fixing her wild hair off her face, and she looked damn proud, completely confident, inspired by the way Marla looked at her.

“Seriously?” Marla chuckled. She shifted in bed until she was sitting with her back resting against the pillows and Fran sitting comfortably in her lap. Though the brunette was starting to lose her composure as she noticed the particular trail that Marla’s fingers were starting, reaching the inside of her thighs, moving up toward her center. “I waited too long for this,” Marla said, “I don’t plan on letting you sleep tonight, Fran.” As she spoke, her other hand reached for Fran’s face, caressing her cheek, bringing her forward for a kiss while the finger from her other hand started slowing working up Fran once more. It was going to be a very long night, and it was exactly what they both had wanted, and even more.

#i care a lot #marla x fran #ical #i care a lot fanfic #marla grayson #fran #my fic

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suggiebabe · 4 years

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hi there! so um, i've been seeing a lot of tiktok videos in which hawks is cheating on his s/o and getting caught by them. i was wondering if you would be so kind as to make a fic about it? 🥺👉👈 i'm really curious on how it's gonna play out (it's up to you if you want it to have a happy ending). thank you!!

Please Believe Me!

A/N: Not @ me saying I would post last weekend, then not posting an actual fic like a whole week later......... My deepest apologies... but I once again, have little hw, so let's see how this weekend plays out!!!!! I do gotta learn some new music and work on some club stuff tho, pls wish me luck in keeping my motivation <3

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Word count: 807 > Bad Ending & 979 > Good Ending

Warnings: ANGST!!! Cursing, Cheating but with both a good and bad ending hehe

It was your 9 month anniversary with Keigo, and you could not hold in your excitement when your boss told you could leave work early that day. On your way home you decided that you should get him a gift too, maybe some candy or a cake, since the two of you decided that getting each other anniversary gifts that cant be eaten was just too complicated.

When you walked into the cake shop, you couldn't help but smile at the memories it brought. Looking over at the booth that you and your boyfriend sat at when you first came here, chuckling at the time he spilled his coffee on his lap, almost getting burned. When it was your turn to order, you quickly ordered the cake you remembered that he liked, and left the shop with the biggest smile on your face.

The walk home seemed to last longer than it usually would. You thought running, but decided that it wouldn’t be good to show up to the house out of breath, and with the cake all bumped around.

When you finally reached your doorstep, you placed the cake on the floor along with your things and scurried through your bad for the house key. When you finally found it and tried to unlock the door, you noticed it was already unlocked. Confused, you picked all your things up and walked inside.

Your stomach sunk at the sight of some small shoes sitting sloppily in front of you. As if the person that took them off was doing it in a hurry. You were frozen in place, the thought of another girl being in your house while you weren’t home, making you insanely uncomfortable.

You walked in further and set the cake on the table. Silence filled your shared apartment, not a sound to be heard. You walked around looking for the owner of the petite shoes, and when you reach your shared bedroom, your heart fell on the floor.

Keigo was in bed, but not alone. A small girl was lying next to him. And much to your surprise, they both seemed to not have any clothes on. Tears filled your eyes as the situation marinated in your head.

You stood at the door, frozen in place once again, and quietly called out his name.

“Keigo...” You said brokenly. The sound of your voice stirred him from his sleep, and he opened his eyes to see you standing at the doorway of your room. He immediately shot up from his position with a shocked look on his face.

“Babe? W-what are you doing back from work so early? You on lunch break or something?...” He said frantically searching for some pants to put on, looking up once and a while to see if you would move from your position, which you didn't.

You nodded your head slowly, “Y-yeah... boss let me go home early, since I told him it was our anniversary today...” Your voice was quiet, and he could hear the hurt in your words. Guilt stabbed through his hear when you mentioned that it was your anniversary, he had completely forgotten, making his guilt build up even more.

“Shit... babe... I-” “Don’t call me that.” You interrupted him, “You cheated on me, and on our anniversary too? Did these 9 months mean nothing to you? Was it all one-sided?” You started bawling, falling to your knees, the pain in your chest felt terrible. It felt like your heart was actually getting torn in half.

“No. It wasn’t. Y/N I love you, please believe me when I say th-” “YOU LOVE ME? THE FUCK KIND OF LOVE IS THIS?” You yelled, the sadness now turning into anger. You stood up and marched towards him. “If you loved me, then what the fuck is she doing in the bed next to you?” You pointed to the now awake girl sitting up with the blanket covering her chest.

“And you, get the fuck out of my house.” You spat out at her. To which she listened to you and left as soon as possible. Looking back over at Keigo, you wiped the remaining tears out of your eyes and shoved your finger in his chest.

“You have 30 minutes to pack your things and get out of here.” As you were going to walk away, you felt him grab your wrist. “YN, c’mon let's talk this out!” You could hear the guilt in his voice, but that didn’t mean he didn’t cheat on you. You shook off his wrist and scoffed at his attempt to save himself. “Keigo, save the embarrassment, and just leave...” The tears started to weld up in your eyes again, but you knew to break up with him would be the best choice in the end.

It was only up from here.

Not wanting to see the painful sight anymore, you walked out of the room and got your stuff together. You decided you were going to leave without saying a word. The thought of talking to him made your heart ache, you didn’t want to hear any excuse he could come up with.

Taking one last look at the cake on the counter, you put your shoes on and closed the door behind you. You planned on going to your best friend’s (Asui) house since you couldn't think of anywhere else to go. You moved out here because of him. You’re lucky you were able to make friends at work, you even managed to get a best friend.

When you got to your Asui's house, you fell into her arms and cried. Understanding your situation, she decided it would be best not to ask you for the details. She tried to get your mind off of things by watching movies and eating your favorite snacks. She also took your phone away so you wouldn't notice how much Keigo had been calling and messaging you.

After a week of living with her, the two of you decided that should go grocery shopping since your food was running low, and you two couldn’t live off of fast food forever.

While at the store, you two were walking around the aisles getting whatever you needed. As the two of you were walking down the frozen foods aisle, Asui brought up how she wanted to go back and get some more chips, to which you agreed with and asked her to get you some too. When she left, you continued to look around.

A pack of frozen fruit caught your eye, and as much as you tried to reach up, you couldn't reach it. Now, you weren't that short, but that shelf seemed higher than it should've been. As you struggled to get your fruit, a red feather flew by and pushed it down to you. You caught it, and held it in your hands, not wanting to turn around to see the man that made your heart break.

You felt a hand grab your shoulder and slowly turn you around. Looking at the floor, you saw a pair of familiar black sneakers. They slowly moved closer to you, and you felt the familiar warm brace of your ex-boyfriend. You would be lying to say you didn’t miss it.

“Y/N... I... I’m so sorry,” he sounded like he was starting to cry as he pressed his head into your neck, “this week... It was so hard without you... please... please can you find it in your heart to forgive me? I missed you so much...” His voice sounded broken. As much as you wanted to decline his request, your heart longed for him, and you just had to give in.

Tears started to run down your face as you hugged him back. Once he felt your arms wrap around him, he squeezed you tighter. “K-Keigo... I... I missed you too...” Once you muttered out those words, you realized how true they were.

The moment was interrupted by Asui clearing her throat, making the both of you look over at her. She stood next to your cart tapping her foot with her arms crossed over her chest. When your eyes met hers, you lightly smiled, and she rolled her eyes

“Ugh. You two are idiots.” She walked over to Keigo and shoved a finger in his chest. “If you even think about hurting her again, you’re going to pay for it, bird brain.”

He chuckled at the nickname and nodded.

“You have my word.”

Another A/N: I’ve been writing this request and another in between classes, I hope you enjoy it!!!!!! When you said I could pick the ending, I was like “well I want happy, but WHY NOT BOTH???”

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booknerdproblems · 4 years

Text

Immortals Chapter 10

Hello lovely people! Here’s chapter 10 of immortals. I just want to thank you all for all the lovely comments and messages I’ve been sent, they always inspire me to write more and more! I meant to have this up yesterday, but my mental health took a downturn, so I’m sorry for the delay!

I’m a little nervous to post this chapter, I’ve had this written for AGES so I’ve tweaked it so many times and shuffled around in the order of things. It’s an important chapter for Aelin and Rowan, so I’ve tried my very hardest to do it justice. I hope you guys enjoy!

Here is the link to my masterlist, where you can also find the previous chapters to this fic

“Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between stars, I will love you”

-Rowan Whitethorn, Empire of Storms Rowan peered out of the small window in his room, taking in the hills and the stars. A little way out, a lone silhouette stood, staring up at the stars. He squinted, the figure far enough that even his Fae eyesight had trouble making out who it was. Aelin. He sent a breeze to open his window, shifting and flying out into the darkness.

The crisp night air was cool against his feathers, and he took deep lungfuls of it, clearing his mind as he flew. Rowan reached for the soothing wash of his magic, steering the winds towards that lone figure.

-x-

Rowan shifted into mid-step a little way away, making sure his footfalls alerted her to his presence.

Rowan sat down next to Aelin, not touching, a healthy distance away, and looked up at the stars. She didn’t so much as acknowledge his presence, just remained gazing up at the stars. He couldn’t help but notice a slight sheen over her eyes, which were red rimmed, but he didn’t comment.

After endless minutes, she broke the silence.

“There,” she pointed to a star, “The stag, the Lord of the North. So the people of Terrasen will always know how to find the way home. So they can look up at the sky, no matter where they are, and know that Terrasen is forever with them.”

“What’s Terrasen like?”

“Beautiful.” Aelin smiled softly. Open. Slightly vulnerable. “Snow always covers the Staghorns, but Oakwald forest is warm in the summer. Little folk are everywhere, but very few ever really see them. Orynth is filled with markets where you can buy almost anything. Merchants come from lands far and wide to sell their goods in Orynth.” The queen’s face had gone almost wistful, melancholy, her eyes unfocused as she talked about her homeland.

“You really love it.”

Aelin looked at him with a bemused look on her face, “Of course. Terrasen is my home.”

“I’d love to see it one day.”

“Then we’ll just have to make that happen.”

Rowan looked at the queen with wildfire in her soul, and all of a sudden, felt very old. He wasn’t particularly old by the standards of the Fae, but looking at this queen with her dreams for the world, he felt as old as Brannon, the first King of Terrasen. He’d once dreamed like that too, with Lyria. Until his dreams had gone and shattered right in front of his eyes. His fault.

Yet something about Aelin made him think that maybe, just maybe, she’d seen the worst this world had to offer, and yet she still hadn’t broken. She still dreamed.

She smiled faintly at him, and there was such heaviness in her eyes. She had the weight of a kingdom on her shoulders, yet she didn’t buckle under the weight. She was so young, much too young to have the burden on her shoulders. Her parents had been assassinated when she was twenty, he remembered. Her uncle, King Orlon, had died the year after. Aelin had had her kingdom thrust upon her much earlier than she must of planned.

He didn’t know what made him start talking, but he did, perhaps wanting someone, anyone to understand,

“When I was young, I mated a female of our race. She was a flower girl in one of the markets. She was beautiful, and kind, and I knew instantly she was my mate. Within a year, we had courted and mated, and we had a small house up in the mountains. But I was young, and still yearned to prove myself. When war knocked on Doranelle’s doorstep, Maeve found me, and gave me a place to serve. As one of her commanders. It was my chance, as a young male, to prove myself. My mate begged me not to go, but I didn’t listen. I went, won the war, and came back, proud of my victory. The house was burned to the ground, her with it. And the scent around it, a child. I left her. I left my pregnant mate alone.”

Rowan finally looked up, meeting Aelin’s extraordinary eyes. Only understanding and sorrow lay there. No disgust, no pity. So he continued.

“So I shifted, and I hunted down the men who’d done that to her. A band of rogues. For fifty years, I went mad. When you lose a mate… you don’t come back from that sort of loss. I stayed in my hawk form, only eating when my body demanded it. Until Maeve tracked me down, said I was better off serving in her court. So I took the blood oath, and haven’t let myself look back since.”

Aelin was looking at him with a new sort of understanding, a small, sad smile on her lips.

“What was her name?”

Rowan tensed. He hadn’t said her name aloud in over one hundred and fifty years. But it would be a shame if the world forgot about her. If he never said it again.

“Lyria,” he breathed.

Aelin nodded, looking back up at the stars. After a moment, she seemed to decide something, and turned slightly toward him.

“My parents were killed in an ambush on a diplomatic visit to Adarlan. I was supposed to go with them, but I stayed at the last moment because I’d pissed off some lord who I needed to sign an education policy. Nobody knew I was to stay behind.”

A pause, as if gathering herself, “Afterwards, I was so stricken with grief, Orlon sent me to Adarlan on a ‘break from politics’. Dorian, the Crown Prince at the time, is one of my close friends, as well as his then Captain of the Guard, now Hand to the King, Chaol Westfall. I’m sure you know that Dorian became king just two months ago, compared to my year ago.”

Rowan nodded, confirming he knew this.

“Well, whilst in Adarlan, I met a boy named Sam. I was a little reckless in my grief, and frequently visited some of the… less reputable taverns in Rifthold. Ever since I was eight, I’d been trained by some of the Fae in Terrasen, so I could handle myself. One day, some of the men had me backed into a corner. Sam saw what they were doing, and came to my aid immediately. Thing was, there were six of them, and only one of him. So, as good a fighter as he was, he was going to get pummelled to death. So, I shifted, and didn’t even start to throw a punch before they were scurrying off. That's how I met him. He introduced me to Lysandra, and we were fast friends. Sam helped me through my parents’ death’s, spending as much time as we could together. And somewhere along the way, we fell in love. Didn’t mean to, but it happened, and it was the best weeks of my life. Even from a young age, I had always been seen as either a weapon, or some simpering princess to be manipulated. Sam saw me as a person. Not some terrible tool of destruction, nor some weakling royal. He just saw me as me. We had a few perfect weeks together, until, rumour somehow got around that Aelin Galathynius was in Rifthold. And a man named Arobynn Hamel found out. See, Sam was an assassin. Not by any fault of his own, he was born into it. He was good and kind and reminded me of all things good in the world. But Hamel decided that he wanted to meet me. So he got it in his head to keep Sam hostage, one of his spies had reported back to him about our relationship. But I had been called back to the Glass Castle, so I’d had to leave notice via one of the street urchins that I wasn’t going to be able to meet with Sam that day. Until the messenger came back to me, with Sam nowhere to be found. Sam was tortured for two days before I finally found him. But he was losing blood fast, and he died in my arms before I could get him to safety.”

“What happened to the men who did it?”

“I slit Arobynn’s throat and left him to choke to death in his own blood. The men who’d actually done it,” she paused, “I left in pieces in an alleyway, then burned their remains to ashes.”

“Good.”

Aelin looked up at him, blinking at his reply.

“Many people would say I’m a monster for what I did to those men.”

“If you’re a monster, I’m a monster,” Rowan peeled his lip back to reveal his elongated canines.

Aelin laughed shakily, smiling at him slightly. It was amazing. She was amazing. That she could have been through so much and still laugh and smile and stand strong. She had triumphed. And in that moment, Rowan, for the first time in over two hundred years, didn’t feel alone.

Tags: @bookworm232020 @brandyovereager @faerie-queen-fireheart @kendallambrosio @alyx801 @sanakapoor

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list

#throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin and rowan #rowaelin #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan x aelin #fanfiction #fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction #sjm #sarah j maas #tog #immortals #chapter 10

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fusefr · 4 years

Photo

Banner asset by Starkindler

· A R R I V A L ·

cw: general nasty because im a plague edgelord [finger guns] i’m also no writer so forgive my garbo prose

One foot in front of the other.

As long as he kept moving, survival was a possibility. Giving in wasn’t an option, couldn’t be, even as the swathes of gleaming hardened gem seemed to dig deeper and deeper, strangling his muscles, cutting into his skin. The caw of the birds overhead, dogging his every step forced him on.

So long as he kept--

A stumbling claw caught on a gnarled fleshy root, sending him crashing into the fetid earth. Isaiah’s vision blew white, head wringing with the sudden jolting bite of pain. He cursed, softly hissed into the ground.

Was the Wasteland itself against him now? A struggling weakling bowing under its unyielding might?

The will had left him, exhaustion settling in deep. He could rest, right here. The rational side of him knew it was a bad idea- more things than dragons roamed the Wastelands, and those vultures were circling now. But it was easy, so much easier to let his eyes close, wings sagging across his body.

For a moment, the pain abated. Peace.

And the someone tapped him on the head.

Isaiah cracked an eye open, face to face with pale pink eyes ringed with green on-- on the brightest creature he’d ever seen.

“Oh! Not dead, that’s excellent. You smell a little dead, but that’s not so unusual.” The tundra flashed a toothy grin, pausing only to blow an unruly flip of mane from his face.

Isaiah stared. Perhaps he was dying then, because surely this was a hallucination.

“As if you could imagine someone this handsome,” the tundra said lightly -- had he said that out loud? Mother help him. “But the dying part? Ehh... you don’t look so good.” He hesitated. “It’s... not really policy to go picking up half-dead dragons on the edge of our territory. But I saw the vultures and well. I suppose I’m too curious for my own good!”

Isaiah blinked, slow and struggling to stay conscious in the face of the beaming tundra as his words began to slur and fade in his hearing. It wasn’t a battle he could’ve won, anyway.

There was something soft under his head. It was the first thing that registered, a feather stuffed pillow stuck under his chin, a stray feather poking out and tickling the end of his snout-- which was wrapped carefully in white bandages. With a heaving effort, he lifted his head, let it fall heavy on his own shoulder. The rest of him was hidden under a ragged blanket, well-worn with claw holes poked in around the edges. Someone had... saved him?

The pink tundra?

The room he’d been left in was small, walls a strange mix of stone and the same fleshy earth that covered the Wasteland. Banners hung from the wall, an emblem stiched onto them by an unpracticed hand.

“Your duty is to keep people away, not to bring them in to the most hidden chambers of the clan!” Not a voice Isaiah recognised, gruff and unhappy, every word pronounced with a snarl.

“Oh yes, I should just leave him to die on our doorstep, that’s much kinder.” Ah. The pink tundra.

“If he can’t survive by himself then--”

“Do you ever get tired of sputtering that old mantra? Survival doesn’t mean withholding aid simply because.”

“...” A heavy sigh.”Don’t let them hear you say that, Rhys. You’re in trouble enough.”

Footsteps drew closer as the voices got louder. “I’m always in trouble! But Vespera insisted. It was either her, or Venom and well. Venom likes the experiment more than heal.”

The tarp strung over the doorway was pushed back, that same pink tundra peeking through, face lighting up. Behind him stood another tundra, larger, with his face pulled in a displeased grimace, coat pale yellows streaked with faded green.

“You’re awake!” chirped Rhys.

“Wonderful. Then you can explain what the hell you were doing on Gulch territory,” the other one growled, placing himself between Isaiah and Rhys.

He found himself staring again, glancing between the two. When in doubt, tell the truth, he supposed.

“...What’s a Gulch?”

#flight rising #lorebrary

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mardi-nah · 4 years

Text

Duet

Decided to do my own kind of Monster March! Let’s see how this goes.

Gender neutral narrator, siren, beach/cliffside setting, small village, fluff

Every night at the crack of twilight, when the blue-gray of bruises bloomed over sky and darkened freckles of clouds, a song rose up from the depths of encroaching dark. There were no words in any language to describe it: the melody was the most beautiful thing you would ever hear, wordless and powerful and soul-wrenchingly passionate. It was a song that screamed up at the empty sky for something, someone.

Your Nan taught you never to follow the song up the cliffs. “If you do,” she warned, “the singer will eat you.”

All of your village knew better than to venture up the rocky beach. Instead, you stuffed your ears with beeswax come nightfall, and went about your work.

When you first arrived in the village, you were given the choice to listen to the song. They tied you to the trunk of the fattest tree on your side of the island and you listened. You were young when you heard it—too young, Nan liked to grumble. You couldn’t quite remember what it sounded like, only that no music ever sounded as pretty to you again.

Sometimes, visitors came to the village. Usually sailors and traveling merchants. They would eat at the inn, and be offered beeswax to plug their ears at night, and while most took it, a few always didn’t. They would be gone by morning, and the leftovers of their group would be warned not to expect them back. Every now and then a leftover would search for a body, or climb the cliffs for revenge. The former would return empty-handed; the latter wouldn’t return at all.

You lived like this until Nate came to visit, and you woke in the middle of the night to find him gone.

Everything inside you revolted at once; nausea rose like a wave inside you, your chest burned, your throat swelled up until you couldn’t breathe. You rushed out of your hut stumbling, tripping over sand and rocks and your own feet, and you couldn’t pick out whether the wooshing in your ears was your pulse or if the beeswax had come loose. It didn’t matter; you didn’t have time to repair it.

You had never once climbed the cliffs, but you did so frantically tonight, your path lit by nothing more than moonlight. Even though you had never been here, never done this, you knew where to go. There was only one way.

Your heart was banging against your ribs, stomach full of lead when you staggered up the last round of rock and saw them together.

Nate, eyes glassy, shuffling up to a strange man with hair like burnished gold and sleeves of feathers of matching color, his nails long and sharp as talons as he beckoned your friend closer.

“Stop!” You cried, charging forward. “Stop! Please! He’s my best friend!”

The man jerked around, staring at you, but his singing had stopped, and the spell was broken. Nate blinked and began to look around himself in alarm.

You rushed forward, shoving Nate behind you as he said—something. You couldn’t actually hear him, which you supposed was a good thing, and instead of answering you glared, trembling, at the man who had been luring your best friend to his certain death.

The man was even more bizarre up close. His entire torso was actually covered in those golden feathers, and he had eyes to match, glowing gold in the dimness of the evening. The skin of his face and hands was sun-darkened and freckled, and when he gaped at you, the teeth that peeked out from behind his lips were bone-white and pointed like fangs. He was wearing a sailor’s common trousers, but the leather boots on his feet were ripped open art the toes to allow bird-like claws to protrude through.

“Leave him alone!” You yelled, shaking, and then after a second’s pause, “Please.”

Nate’s hand came down on your shoulder and squeezed, but if he said anything, you couldn’t hear him. The man in front of you slowly raised a single finger and tapped on his ear, glowing eyes watching you.

You shook your head.

He tapped again, and then looked over your shoulder, murmuring something. You didn’t have time to react before fingers plunged into your ears and removed the wax.

Noise came back so quickly it made you dizzy, but you caught Nate’s disgusted, “Oh, that’s so gross.”

“Nate!” You screamed, half in disbelief, half in terror.

“Wait, wait, before you get mad, just listen!”

The man was watching you still, and he leaned forward on the rock he was perched on, snatching your attention back to him. He cocked his head to one side. “You want me to let you and your friend go.”

You startled. “Y-yeah?”

“I have no claim on you, but I won him fairly,” the man nodded at Nate, who blanched, but said nothing.

“I can trade you for him,” you offered, maybe a tad desperately. “We have plenty of meat in the village, and—and fish and pigs and chickens. If you like music, I can carve you an instrument, or—“

“Sing for me,” he cut in.

You screeched to a halt. “What?”

“Sing for me, and I’ll let him go. I sing each night for those who would come to me, but no one has ever sang for me. One song, and you can go home.”

He seemed serious. You stared at him a moment, your mouth dry, when Nate’s dumb mouth opened again.

“Uh, do I have to sing too, oooor … ?”

“No.” The bird-man didn’t hesitate.

“Oh, right then.”

You licked your lips, swallowed, mouth dry, and began to sing.

It wasn’t anything special; it was just a nursery rhyme you had been taught as a kid, and though you knew your voice was nowhere near as beautiful as this creature’s, anxiety made it wobble and break. Still, you kept going, you kept trying until you reached the last verse, the last syllable, and then you watched the bird-man fearfully.

He wouldn’t change your mind just because you sucked, right?

But the bird-man only dipped his head and gestured back down the path, the dark hiding his face from view. “You are free to leave. I will not pursue you.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You loved Nate, but you were glad to see him go. It wasn’t safe for him here, and furthermore, you were still upset with him for compromising the two of you that night. What was worse, he had seen fit to spread the news that you had bravely rescued him, with several exaggerations and overblown statements that made your neighbors regard you with more interest than you liked.

Somehow, you had known it was going to happen, but you dreaded it anyway.

Miss Taylor’s child went missing in the night, and you were awoken by her banging on your door, pleading for you to save him from the monster by the rocks. You didn’t want to. Reggie was a stubborn idiot, but how could you leave him to die? Granted, you might join him in death, but you had to try. You could not stare this tearful woman in the eye and do nothing.

That night found you back on top of the rocks, the bird-man regarding you with surprise, Reggie standing stupidly in the middle of the cliffside, glassy-eyed and distant. Slowly, you showed the man the plate of mutton you had brought with you and placed it on the ground, slowly.

“Please, don’t hurt him. Take that instead. Think of it as a gift.” You tried.

The bird-man tapped on the side of his head, and after a small hesitation, you scooped the wax out of one ear.

“Will you sing for me again?”

You couldn’t hide your surprise. “You want me to?”

The bird-man stared at you, those strange eyes drilling deep into places you weren’t entirely comfortable with. “I like your voice.”

Well, there was no accounting for taste.

You sang for him. You sang like it would be your last time ever doing so; you sang like a life depended on it (because it did). You sang even when Reggie groggily began to wake up from his stupor, even when he snuck off and left you alone with the creature in front you. You sang until the song was done.

The bird-man lowered his head like he had the previous night. “Thank you. You may go.”

And like the previous night, you left.

There were mornings when you would open your door to find items on your doorstep that could not have gotten there on their own. At first, you were puzzled by their appearance. You would find pearls, pretty shells, shiny jewels, old jewelry, coppers, silvers, gold pieces, aluminum, bones, shark teeth.

It was a slow process, but you began to suspect, and that was what led you back up the rocks one particular evening, a roasted chunk of pork wrapped in linen in your basket.

The bird-man was perched on a boulder again, lounging with his mouth open, singing some melody you couldn’t hear past the beeswax stuffed in your ears.

He stopped abruptly as you walked closer, glowing eyes wide as they watched you.

You placed the basket at the base of the rock and unplugged one ear. “You’ve been leaving me gifts.”

He didn’t say anything, and remained very, very still.

You continued. “You’ve been leaving me gifts, but I don’t even know your name.”

“I was never given one.”

“Surely you’ve had companions before.”

“I have.”

“What did they call you?”

He shifted uncomfortably on the rock. “We didn’t call each other. That is not our way.”

You stared at him for a minute. “What is your way, then?”

“We sing together. Or for each other, if we wish their company. But my kind don’t stay together unless they are mated.”

“I see.” Well, that was a problem. “How am I supposed to call you if I want your attention?”

He looked at you then, his eyes too bright in the surrounding dimness. “Isn’t it obvious? I hoped you would sing to me.”

You decided to try a different tactic. “Why have you been leaving me gifts?”

The bird-man shifted again, dropping his eyes from you. You tried to peer at his face, but sadly, it was too dark to catch any signs of a blush. “I … I was hoping to show my … interest. And that it would be returned. Perhaps.”

“How would I show that?”

He cleared his throat and scraped a sharp nail over the rock. “You would sing with me.”

You watched him for a moment. “We aren’t mated if I sing with you?”

“No. To mate, we must build a nest together.”

You thought for a moment, but only just. You had been thinking of this for several days now, after all. “Okay.”

Your companion’s head jerked up, eyes sharp. “Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll sing with you. Hold on.” You plugged up your ears again, looked to him for a minute—his face was avid, hopeful and focused—and began to sing.

You saw his mouth move, though you couldn’t hear him. You had no idea if he knew the lyrics to this song, or if your voices were blending well together, but you gave it your all.

The villagers began to refer to you as the monster tamer as people stopped going missing in the night. You did not tell them that your lover wasn’t tamed at all; simply well-fed on your plates of pork and beef and mutton. Well-fed and happy, you thought.

He seemed to thoroughly enjoy singing with you, and having you sing for him. Sometimes, after the two of you had learned each other more, you would even take out your wax and let him sing for you.

It was the most beautiful song you would ever hear.

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fantastic-fantasy-fanfics · 4 years

Text

SLEIGH RIDE

link to the sing is HERE

A/N: it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written for Jefferson

Jefferson x reader

Word count: 1450

Summary: Being with your husband and step-daughter on Christmas is the most amazing perfect thing you could ever imagine spending your Christmas

Warnings: none

Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring ting tingling too

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you

The bell tower rang its thunderous song, the clanging bell telling everyone in town that it was six o’clock. It was already dark, the sun had set hours ago, leaving room for everyone’s Christmas lights to shine and light up the streets. You locked up the stable, bidding your horse goodnight before you gathered up your things to start packing.

“It’s pretty dangerous for a lovely lady like you to walk home alone,” a deep voice called to you, the sound echoing down the wooden hall.

Your head whipped around to see none other than your husband, standing by the entrance. “Jefferson!” You grinned, running over to hug him.

He took his gloved hands out of his pockets to wrap his arms around you. “I thought I’d walk you home,” he grinned, kissing your cheek softly, “no one deserves to be alone on Christmas Eve,”.

“It’s just an hour walk,” you chuckled, taking your red mittens out of your coat pocket, “where’s Grace? Is she alone On Christmas Eve?”. You laughed, playfully quirking your brow at him.

“She is, but she wanted to get her surprise ready for you,” He said, pulling you to his side, “she practically shoved me out the door, to go get you”.

“She better not be using the stove, you know what happened last time…” you warned, getting a bit concerned.

“Don’t worry, there will be no kitchen usage involved, I made her promise,” he promised, “she doesn't break promises, so no kitchen fires this holiday,”.

Outside the snow is falling and friends are calling "Yoo-hoo!"

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you

Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy and cozy are we

We're snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be

The snow was falling gently as you attempted to brush your hair out of your face. It was a struggle with your bulky mittens on.

“Here, Let me help,” Jefferson hummed, taking off one glove so he could fix your hair properly.

“Hey! (Y/N)! Jeff!” Mary-Margaret’s voice shouted. Both your heads turned in unison to see her head poking out of Granny’s diner. “Come join us! We’re having some hot drinks and watching the snow!”.

You and your husband looked at each other, shrugging. Why not? Good friends and good food on a cold day sounded amazing! Jefferson held your hand as you jogged over to the door, careful not to slip on the wet ground.

You let out a satisfied sigh as the heated building warmed up your cold face. “Mmm… it smells like cake in here,” you grinned, salivating as you saw all the lovely baked goods laid out on the counter.

Jefferson grabbed a gingerbread man and held it between his teeth as he carried two hot mugs of cocoa to the booth you had sat down in. “There you go, sweetheart,” he mumbled through the cookie in his mouth.

"Thank you," you said, taking the hot mug and letting it warm your cold hands. You inhaled the warm, sweet scent, cozying down in your little booth. "So what IS Grace doing?" you asked.

Jefferson shrugged, "she said it was a surprise,".

As time passed by and the alcohol content of your drinks rose, Jefferson realized how late it was getting. Even though you were both having a good time, cuddling up together in your little corner, laughing and chatting with your friends, you didn’t want to leave Grace waiting for too long.

“Do you have to go?” David asked, not wanting to fun to end, “we haven’t even gotten to see Mary drunkenly try to sing karaoke! That’s the best holiday tradition ever!”.

You chuckled as Mary flicked her husband’s forehead playfully. “Yes, we have to go. We have a nine-year-old at home and we don’t want to abandon her on Christmas,” you explained, putting on your beanie, “but we’ll see you for the tree lighting tomorrow morning,”.

Let's take the road before us and sing a chorus or two

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you

Walking out of the warm diner into the harsh cold of the town was a shock to you. You wrapped your arms around yourself with a violent shiver, the heavy snow coating your hair and eyelashes. “Hell no, I’m not walking for an hour in this weather,” you said, cuddling into Jefferson’s chest, wrapping his unbuttoned coat around the both of you.

A chuckle left Jeff’s lips as he wrapped his arms around you in a hug. “I’ve got an idea,” he grinned, seeing a horse-drawn sleigh glide by. He took off his gloves so he could whistle around his fingers to grab the stage coach’s attention. “Mind if we get a ride?” he shouted.

The coach looped the horse back around and let you both get into the sleigh. “Thank you, my good man,” Jefferson smiled, handing the coach a wad of cash before sitting down with you on the red, velvet bench. “Better?” he asked, taking a blanket from the basket by your feet and wrapping it around you both.

You grinned like a happy cat lying in the sun. “Yes, much better,” you squeaked, cuddling against him, letting his hand rest against your hip.

The snow didn’t stop, but it gave the whole scene a magical aura. The Christmas lights everywhere, Menorahs lit in the front windows of people’s houses, snowmen in the front yards of neighborhood houses, it was gorgeous. “Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy and cozy are we…” Jefferson sang softly, absentmindedly humming the instrumental parts, “We're snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be…”. You giggled, covering your mouth to hide the sound. “What? Grace has been singing that all week because of her school recital, it got stuck in my head!”.

“I'm not blaming you, I just think you’re just cute,” you giggled, “please don’t stop, I like it when you sing,”. That made Jefferson’s heart melt, encouraging him to sing louder and more confidently.

"Silver beeeeellls! Silver beeeellls!" he sang out, mocking a cheesy opera singer's voice, putting on a little performance for you, "it's Christmas tiiiiiiime in the cittyyyyyyy!". He really hammed it up, doing dramatic expressions and silly gestured, just so he could make you laugh. That was music to his ears.

Let's take the road before us and sing a chorus or two

Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you

You waved to the horse and coach as they left, dropping you off in front of your doorstep. “Thank you!” you grinned, Jefferson carrying you up the short set of stairs. “Do you know what Grace has been doing for the past couple hours?” you asked as you opened the door.

You stepped inside and saw the beautifully decorated tree in the living room. Golden garlands and white lights spiraled around the branches while big red ornaments were hung throughout. To give it that one special touch, an angel sat on top of the tree, nearly touching the fifteen-foot high ceiling. “That’s… Grace, did you do this?” you asked, your eyes wide with amazement.

The little girl stood proudly in front of her project, nodding eagerly as she saw how much you liked what she did for you. “Papa and I did it together,” she grinned, pointing at her father.

You looked behind you at Jefferson. “You knew about this? You sneaky son of a-” you laughed, playfully shoving him, “you big, fat liar!”.

He shrugged innocently. “I may or may not have gone out and chopped a real tree… and let her decorate… unsupervised…” he hummed, blushing a bit.

“And you get to put the last ornament on!” Grace cheered, running over to give you the special framed photo ornament she had made at school.

The photo was of all three of you in the park from earlier that fall, all cuddled up together, surrounded by colorful leaves and fall flowers. With a pink and purple glitter frame, decorated with a yellow button in the shape of a heart in the corner and some various rhinestones on the rim. You would keep this forever and ever.

Tears of joy pricked at your eyes. “Gracie… this is beautiful!” you smiled, kissing her head, hanging the frame up on the tree where everyone who entered your house could see. Jefferson picked his daughter up and hugged you from behind. “Best Christmas Ever…” you sniffed, unable to stop the overwhelming happy feeling in your heart.

_________________

TAGLIST

@buckyshattergirl

#jefferson the mad hatter x reader #jefferson x reader #jefferson the mad hatter #jefferson ouat #jefferson #once upon a time #sebastian stan x reader #arys christmas writing spree #aryschristmaswritingspree #fantastic-fantasy-fanfics

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paellaplease · 4 years

Text

Firebird | Chap.6

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 7

Apologies for the long wait, everyone!

Chapter 6: Of Monsters and Metals Part 1.

Strength is not measured by your willingness to meet fear’s gaze...

Revali dove, slowed, and eventually landed, talons gracefully touching down on the rocky ground below them like a falling leaf to water.

Maiya lifted her head from his shoulder, the smell and sounds of waves crashing into stone washing over her as she opened her eyes. Looking around, she saw that they were standing on a long slab of rock, hovering above the tumultuous waters of Lake Totori.

Another departure deck, her mind supplied for her.

The hylian quickly clambered off the rito’s back, the freshwater spray chilling her to the bone. She realised just how much warmth Revali’s feathers had provided her, feeling the full brunt of the elements as she pulled away. Maiya shivered, regretting her earlier decision in leaving her thicker coat at the inn.

As her feet touched the earth, her legs immediately gave way.

“Holy— ”

Revali caught her arm, steadying her moments before she smacked into the ground.

“Give it a moment.”

“No, it’s alright.”

Stubbornly, Maiya took another step forward. The rito warrior clicked his tongue as he caught her again. “You are unaccustomed to flight. Stand still and move your feet slowly, let the normal flow of blood return to your legs. Unless of course you’re extremely keen on acquainting yourself with the floor.”

Embarrassment colouring her cheeks, Maiya closed her mouth and turned her head away, allowing herself to lean on him but refusing to look him in the eye. She stared forward into the distance, surveying their surroundings as she waited for the tingling feeling in her legs to disappear. As her eyes adjusted, all she could see was a looming cliff before her and a thick wall of evening fog. Night had set in around them, making visibility difficult in the dying light.

“So...where is that cave we saw earlier?”

Revali’s free wing pointed down to the empty space in front of them, following along the platform until the point where she guessed it would connect to the cliff a few metres away. “On the other side of this departure deck, beyond the fog.”

The Enchanter pulled her jacket closer as another strong gust of wind blew past, mussing up her dark hair again and cooling the sweat on her brow. Small waves continued to crash against the platform, powerful enough at times she swore she could feel the ground shudder. Quietly, she marvelled at how different the scenery appeared in comparison to what she saw in the sky earlier. From afar, the cave seemed so...removed— detached in its stillness. Now up close it felt like she was in the midst of a storm.

What an odd place to have a smithy. “So your forge is cut into the rock holding your village aloft in the sky?”

The rito warrior’s jade eyes were still trained at the distance in front of them as he regarded her evenly. “We are still within village grounds, enchanter.” His expression turned thoughtful. “And that is more than just a rock in the middle of the lake. The cliff face you see in front of you is Wayrakuchuyna, or simply Wayra. She is ancient, older than Chief Kamori and many of those before him, and is the foundation from which Valoo’s Spire was carved.”

“Thats,” Maiya paused, mulling over her words. “That’s actually very interesting. I thought the Spire was carved by your people?”

“Carved by the wind.” The rito corrected her, the rarest hint of a smile in his voice. “Technically speaking, we are underneath the main village structure. Valoo’s Spire is the epicentre of our way of life. However, Wayra had been a part of my people for as long as rito could fly.”

“As such, according to Chief’s Law, so long as we are connected to her, we are always home.” He looked up, gazing at the cliff-face for a quiet moment.

Maiya tilted her head, mimicking his stance. Due to the angle from where they stood, she found it difficult to spot the Spire amongst the rocks and fog. She only managed to catch the faint details of the bridge she’d crossed a day ago, hanging far away in the air above them, illuminated by the waning gibbous moon.

Feeling that enough time had passed, she gave her leg an experimental shake, relieved that the pins and needles had finally subsided. “Hey...I think my legs are back to normal.”

“Continue forward if you must then. You are capable of making your own decisions.”

“I would but,” despite her irritation at his previous comment, she allowed a laugh to slip through. She cleared her throat and pointed to her shoulder. “You can let go now.”

Feathers rising, Revali quickly withdrew his wing, stepping to the side. “Take caution where you tread,” he groused, suddenly very interested in readjusting his pauldrons. “I won’t be responsible if your clumsiness results in you cracking a few eggs.”

The Enchanter shrugged, too tired to deal with the rito’s changing moods, and started walking.

Both hylian and rito made haste across the departure deck, the gaping maw of the forge’s main entrance slowly coming into view. The cave-like opening was tall as it was wide, and Maiya estimated it would easily fit about three of her across. Enshrouded in fog; dark and foreboding, it looked to suck all life into it until there was nothing but open emptiness.

Except it wasn’t empty.

“Someone's there.” She murmured.

Smoke escaped from the mysterious figure's pipe, making them appear like a shadow in the creeping darkness. They were leaning against a tall and looming object. Upon closer inspection it revealed itself to be a heavy metal door, several locks lining its side.

Their face flickered by the flame of a rusty sconce, wavering in the midst of blistering winds. They had feathers of mottled black and white, and a jet black scraggly beard which was pulled into two hanging braids. They stood as if dragged down by the weight of the world — a hunch curving their back and an elderly face dominated by two white-feathered brows pinched together in a scowl. Whilst unable to see their eyes, she still had a feeling that they were watching them closely, eyeing them like a hawk as they drew closer.

Above them, a sign swung and creaked in the whistling wind. Jackdaw Metalworks and Weaponry it read, complete with a carving of two rito's and an anvil resting between them.

“Yieni,” Revali said from behind her, voice unusually careful and diplomatic. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Allin tuta, it has been a while.”

Maiya’s eyes widened in alarm. Yieni? Then that means—

The Blacksmith lifted his head, revealing a pair of fierce, cloudy eyes. He threw Revali a questioning look, before zeroing in on the Enchanter and the dagger that hung innocently at her hip. Maiya felt frozen in place, the rito’s glare piercing in its quiet fury. It was as if he was surveying a defective sword, seeking what was left of its worth.

Revali gently nudged her with his wing, pulling her from her thoughts. "Courage now," he whispered.

Maiya grimaced, straightening her back and ignoring the rope of anxiety knotting in her chest. She cleared her throat. “Good evening, Yieni." She didn't think it was possible, but his scowl deepend. Don't panic, just continue. "I am Maiya from the land of Akkala and I’m hoping you can answer some questions regarding— ”

“Get out.”

She blinked. “Pardon me but wha—”

“I said get out! Leave this place." He rasped, smoke escaping his mouth. His eyes narrowed as he glared daggers at the blue rito. “What in the void possessed you to bring an Enchanter to my doorstep, Revali?”

The warrior raised his wings up as if in surrender. “I mean no offense, Yieni.”

“Hah!” The elderly rito hunched over as a dry cough racked through him. "I cannot imagine what inane quest has sent you here but we’ve had enough trouble brought upon by your kind, Enchanter. Now run back to your teacher and never show your face on my property again.”

Maiya’s felt her enthusiasm drain, her gloved hand warming alongside the bubbling of her unease. "You don’t understand. So much of my people’s knowledge has been lost. I know you have a level understanding of our craft. Please.” Fucking listen!

The rito shook his head. “I’ve been bitten more than once by feeding the rabid dog. I refuse to extend my arm out once more as it bears its teeth."

“That makes no sense!”

"I make no deals with Enchanters,” he spat. “Make sense of that, child.” Putting his cigar out, Yieni wrenched the heavy door behind him open, stepping through.

Maiya raced forward. “Wait, hold on!”

The door was slammed shut, cold metal inches from bruising her nose. She took a step back, bumping into the warrior behind her.

Maiya looked at him, the locked door, and slumped. “Okay, perhaps I need to rethink my strategy here." Or perhaps he really hates Enchanters and I'm just wasting my time.

Revali crossed his wings. “Perhaps?” he said, beak curving. “A welcome like that and you honestly still think you have a wing in the door?"

The Enchanter looked to the open lake, feeling cold droplets hit her face as the rain above began to fall. "This would have been a waste of time if I decide to give up now." She rolled her shoulders, ignoring Revali's muttered “Evidently” and bunched up her sleeves. “I’m not leaving til that door opens.”

The blue rito moved to the side, gesturing her forward with an exaggerated wave of his feathers. “The floor is yours.”

Maiya clenched her jaw and moved to knock again.

Knock, knock. Her first attempt garnerd no response.

Knock, knock, bang! As did her second.

“Stubborn old bird.”

She felt the veins in her left hand begin to burn again, the rune no doubt responding to the shock and stress of the day’s events. Taking the glove off, she shook her hand vigorously in the air, trying to cool down the scar which had heated up considerably in the past few minutes. The edges glowed a light blue. She hissed.

“Are you well?” Revali asked.

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. Good going, he thinks you're going to burn the place down now. “Nothing, ignore me. Stinging as always.”

Gritting her teeth, she raised her left hand again. She was inches away from slamming it into the door when the metal surface shuddered.

Reflexively, Revali reached for his bow. Maiya held a hand up, the hairs on the back of her neck rising. “Wait—”

She took a cautious step back as the clicks of several locks were heard, the unusual symphony joined by a cacophony of keys turning, latches being pulled, and bars sliding to the side. Smoke left hidden pockets located at the hinges, making a hissing noise as billowing clouds escaped from the cracks, dissipating into the surrounding darkness.

A creak and screech echoed, the sound ricocheting off the rock and making small pebbles fall from their perches. Metal scraped against metal, joining the activity as the noise reached a crescendo, building up until suddenly— there was silence.

Maiya released the breath she was holding, clutching her gloved hand to her chest. "Did I do that?"

"No,” Revali said. He pointed to a rounded mirror-like object which hung above the burning sconce, something Maiya thought was merely for decoration. "That glass is not reflecting our images…”

At that moment, the flame went out.

“Someone’s watching us.”

And the door swung open with a bang.

Lying before them was a dark corridor. It was cold and eerie, a void tunneling into the rock. Maiya was surprised to find that no one was on the other side to greet them, and wondered briefly how the door could have opened by itself. “There’s something mysterious at work here,” she whispered.

It was completely barren except for a small hanging lantern at the furthest part of the hall. The quivering flame marked the beginning of a spiral staircase, its flickering light illuminating the start of stone steps leading down.

The Enchanter stared into the darkness, fear of the unknown making her hesitate. As she retreated into herself, she took a step back, her hand brushing the hilt of her dagger. The latent energy within it sent a small spark up her fingers, and for a moment she remembered the way it spluttered and burned within the confines of the Blacksmith’s clamp.

Her mentor’s words reverberated in her mind. ‘Do not let fear dictate your freedom.’

Maiya groaned, stepping foot into the dark corridor and began walking with renewed purpose. “Into the unknown, let’s go.” She grumbled. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

She was surprised to hear Revali following close behind her, the sound of talons against stone echoing throughout the passageway. Pausing abruptly, she swivelled around to face him, taken aback by how close he suddenly was.

She backpedalled and crossed her arms, ignoring how he was only a step away. “Hold on. You’re coming with me?”

Revali mirrored her stance, folding his wings. He looked at her pointedly. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there’s no stairway to the Spire from here.”

“So you’re sticking around to fly me back up, huh?”

“Precisely.”

Maiya huffed, lifting her head higher to glare at him. “Chief Kamori told you to watch me, didn’t he?”

He wasn’t even looking at her, choosing this moment to inspect the feathers on one of his wings. He flexed it in front of him as a hylian would when checking their nails. “You wound me, enchanter,” he said, voice bored. “Do you really believe I’d make you scale the cliff in the dark?”

“Oh.” She laughed humorlessly, turning around to continue her brisk walk to the end of the hall. “Absolutely.”

Maiya kept a steady palm on the smooth stone column beside her as they continued deeper into the cave. In their descent, she traced the lines of the column, feeling it grow colder the further they travelled into the cavern in almost full darkness. It was one of the few times she was grateful for the dull glow of her hand, leading the way and stopping her from taking a bone-breaking tumble to the bottom floor. At least the stress did something good for once.

The spiral staircase seemed to wind forever, eventually unfurling and flattening, lantern light appearing in the distance as they reached the very last step. They eventually found themselves in an open room, under a high ceiling full of vents.

The Enchanter marvelled at the flow of the air as she watched smoke leave like ribbons through hidden pockets in the room, seemingly replaced by a fresh batch almost instantaneously with the lift of a vent in the ceiling.

It appeared that most of the heat in the room was originating from the giant metal structure sitting at its centre. Blackened and spluttering soot, its presence dominated most of the space; a metal monster with a belly reddened by flames.

The forge’s oven.

The familiar clang of hammer on iron reached her ears, followed by the hiss of steam as it was dipped in the slack tub. The hylian was immediately transported back in time, remembering the workshop in Akkala and the days she spent as a young girl observing Teacher in her workspace.

Maiya was but a novice then, but the silver-haired woman was always in her element. She could recall watching her mentor hammer out a swordsman’s blade, forgetting her notes and daydreaming instead of the moment she would finally decipher the secrets of the anvil and impress the Sheikah Enchanter with her first proper weapon.

Except you failed her, she thought bitterly. No matter how hard you try to make amends, your dagger has rejected its master. And in that, you have failed your purpose.

Maiya blinked back into reality, the figure she saw standing in the middle of the forge no longer her mentor. No, Maiya realised. The person holding a cooling blade in the air wasn't even rito.

Seeing her step into the room, the smith rested the blade on the edges of a clay bath. As they lifted the protective mask obscuring their face, Maiya's eyes caught a teal fin peeking from behind it. A fish? Her mind stuttered.

The mask was lifted further, revealing a lean face and sharp smiling teeth. They stood with a straight back, posture impeccable as they smoothed their leather apron over.

A zora!

“Good evening, Traveler,” they said, voice soft and polite as small bells. They looked at her calmly, golden eyes serene. Maiya’s eyes caught the intricate silver ornaments decorating the side of their face, hearing them clink as they removed the mask entirely.

The zora angled their head higher, finally seeing the person behind her. “What a surprise, Master Revali.”

“Uleh.” The rito nodded curtly.

Maiya looked between the two of them. She noticed some soot staining the Zora's arms and cheeks, painting their shining scales a smoky grey.

Coughing into a closed fist, they cleared their throat. “Apologies for earlier. I’m not sure what’s gotten into Mister Yieni this evening. He is usually more accommodating, but I theorise that the wine might have been more potent than usual."

"You're his assistant?" Maiya asked.

"An Artificer." They corrected. “You could say I’m on...an extended industrial study tour.” The zora smiled to themself, enjoying their own inside joke, before bowing low. “I welcome you, Enchanter. It has been many years since someone of your vocation has stepped foot in ‘Jackdaw’s. I would offer my palm for the greeting but,” they raised both their gloved hands, “I must keep these on for the time being. There is much work that needs to be done.”

Maiya blinked, still bracing herself for the anger that ultimately never materialized. “Hold on. You know I’m an Enchanter? Why then...why haven’t you yet—”

“Kicked you out as Mister Yieni had?”

“Yes.”

“I hold no quarrel against you or your people.” They said, beginning to coat the blade in clay, expertly avoiding its edges. “In fact, I want to help you.”

The Enchanter did not immediately celebrate, silent for a moment and lost to her own thoughts. As much as she was happily surprised by this stranger’s willingness to assist her, she was once again hit by a gut-punching suspicion that had been plaguing her mind since she left the village’s library.

She was slowly learning that there’s always some sort of catch.

"And what exactly does this help entail?" Revali asked, reading into her discomfort.

"Simple,” Uleh said, gently painting the finishing touches of the clay coating with a brush. "I need you to extract a rare ingredient the forge has been lacking in for awhile. After you’ve done that, I can arrange a meeting.”

Maiya shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unconvinced. “How can you be sure he would want to converse with me in the first place?”

Uleh chuckled, clipping the blade into a wooden holder to dry. "Mister Yieni can be ill-tempered, prejudiced and especially cantankerous, but he will always honour a good deal." The zora looked up at her, golden eyes gleaming. "Find him that ingredient, offer it in exchange for information, and he will answer whatever you ask him."

Maiya eyed the silver jewellery framing Uleh’s face, thin and long sheets twisted like intermingling spirals. Ultimately, it would be within her best interest to trust them. She’d just have to roll with the punches and accept the consequences of what was to come after that. She could compare her situation to skipping stones. Nothing left but to cast the rock and count the ripples from the sidelines.

Your willingness to trust will get you trouble one day, my dear. Her mentor’s ever serious voice echoed warningly.

The hylian rubbed her eyes, too tired to argue with herself anymore. Grab the ingredient and strike a deal. Easy. She thought to herself. It's okay. It will be okay. That just leaves me with...

Gazing up, she flashed Revali a tentative grin. The sharp lines of the rito’s face softened a fraction, then fell back into its default haughty glare as he looked away. "What is it?" He asked sourly.

"...are you going to help me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Well, I'm going regardless."

Revali sent her a knowing look. "And you will probably encounter trouble along the way.

The hylian shrugged, unbothered. "It's not a given but with the increase of monster activity out there, coupled with some Yiga sightings, I probably will—"

"Then the answer is obvious."

"You don't have to be rude about it."

"You shouldn't ask moronic questions you know the answer to."

"Fine!"

"Fine."

Maiya shook her head, turning back to the zora who was still patiently waiting for her answer. She cleared her throat, trying to regain whatever professional dignity she'd shed in the past minute. “If it will grant me an audience with the Blacksmith, then I'll do it."

Uleh's face broke out into a smile. “Fantastic.”

Rising from their sitting position, the zora picked the blade up with their iron tongs, carrying it back to the oven. As they plunged it back into the red hot embers, the fire casted dancing lights and shadows against their teeth, drawing Maiya’s attention as they spoke their next words.

“Now onto business. Have you ever heard of a Frost Talus, Enchanter?”

#revali #botw #breath of the wild #revali x oc #loz botw #legend of zelda #botw fanfiction #revali botw #rito #rito botw #botw fic #fanfiction #writing #enemies to friends to lovers #paellaplease #firebird botw #maiya botw

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Next Caller Pt 9

…

A pause to knock at the door of your grump was used to steady yourself and call out, “House keeping.”

Shushing and low chuckles came from the room you timidly entered as Roac flew into your sights, “Come in. Come in.”

Smirking at the bird you put the tether on the door to keep it open easing the task of heading back to your cart you pulled towels from you carried inside. Into the sitting room you strolled spotting Thorin and Frerin there, the latter who stole a chance to see just why Thorin had stolen the chance to see you at work for himself and rumbled, “I do apologize for doubling your work, but the boys asked for the place to themselves tonight.”

You shook your head and Thorin said, “But, I don’t need towels tonight, he does though.” Halfway giving his brother a disapproving glare and you rolled your eyes to go check Frerin’s room.

“Honestly, you act as if I wasn’t privy to worse guests than you.”

Frerin, “Who was the worst?” He asked standing to follow you standing in the doorway while you gathered his towel and went through the basic check list taking his towel to your cart before checking Thorin’s bath.

“No need to get to protective. Your relatives have a good system in charge. If things are rowdy I mark the room to be cleaned later, we’re not to enter if there’s more than two in a room, not counting babies, of course.”

Thorin leaned in the doorway while you checked the dining area and turned to face the pair, “Of course.”

Frerin smirked saying, “I can’t help but ask if it’s too early for turndown service,” Making you smirk as he rumbled out, “More for that pant vanishing cocktail of yours.”

In a giggle you said, “Two cocktails coming up.” You said heading for two pouches to start in Frerin’s bedroom with the pair watching your effortless detailed touches to the rooms they had seen differing styles to the floors lower they usually stayed in unique to your style.

Frerin, “You wouldn’t happen to be in need of painters, would you?”

Straightening up after finishing the flower for his bed you set down, “Gloin gave me a card for painters, another relative I think, Bomb something.”

Thorin chuckled, “BomBairns, they painted our place.”

“Well I just ordered some furniture magazines, when they arrive I’ll be skimming for ideas to decorate. I know I do want a purple bedroom,” That made the brothers smirk in following you to Thorin’s room, “Maybe add some silver stripes. I know my friend has this comforter in their spare bedroom with silver and purple alternating flowers. So pretty. Itchy as hell, but pretty.” Making the pair chuckle to themselves.

Thorin, “Any other thoughts?”

“Maybe yellow, or a pale orange for the kitchen, I like deep tones, maybe some light grey thrown in too. Can’t feel comfy in a white home.”

Once completed the second bed sat ready to be crawled into and the pair moved to the bar watching as you fashioned a pair of cocktails you set out with Frerin subtly mentioning you should have a dinner some time before accepting the challenge to see if he indeed would lose his pants or not.

A text at three in the morning sat unanswered while you remained sleeping in your bed. Uncaring of what you might be missing out on lost in a dream of a visit to your family in Lindon you cuddled more with your pillow sighing contently at your comfortable spot. Though without your radio shift you only were allowed so much sleep as the arrival of the mail truck. Curiously in the window above the door Belly sat bouncing in excitement watching the same truck and neighbors passing by in their usual habits until the truck had stopped at your mailbox sending the bird off through the house to you.

Onto your shoulder his feet clenched and flapping his wings be bounced you on the bed opening your eyes, “Our box! The feather man left something in our box!”

“Feather?” Shifting onto your side you said, “Ah, mailman. Right.”

A flop down again was ended in his next flap making you bounce again, “Check it! Check it!”

“Ok. Ok. I’m up…” Onto your knees you shifted and eased a foot off the bed you had scooted to the end of starting the trudging walk ensuring your shorts had drooped enough to be visible below your baggy t shirt. A momentary fumble with the lock had you through your open front door and crossing the chilly front walk still wet with dew on the balls of your feet hurrying to the mailbox. Hastily your front gate was opened and left open to ease the trip back, though once your box was opened your head turned to spot the duo of joggers paused in place.

With a wave you said, “Hello.”

The duo blankly replied staring at Belly, “Hello.”

Belly squawked out, “We have mail.” The pair smirked at the continuation, “We never get mail.”

You collected the magazines in the crook of your arm along with the few usual advertisements and credit card offers you usually shredded right away now sent here at the proof your change of address form had kicked in. A stolen picture of Belly came in your closing the mailbox and saying, “Have a nice day.” Confused at what else to say in the silence.

“Have a nice day.” They both replied back with matching waves stunned at the proof of the rare breed of raven rumored to have been spotted now being forwarded through the Dwobbit development sure to warm everyone up to welcoming their new neighbor past the endearing story they had heard of your having a secret admirer leaving gifts on your doorstep.

Back behind your closed door after wiping your feet on the mat you locked the door behind you and walked to the kitchen where you set down the magazines and grumbled heading to your room to get your phone. Across the screen you read, ‘Off today?’

With a smirk you replied, ‘Just this morning. I will be in for my usual cup later. About to try my whale out. Any suggestions?’

Following his message you took two scoops of what he called a good brew to start with and filled the whale you settled into your favorite mug you poured the boiling water over and let it steep. Curiously you flipped through one of your magazines you found a marker to draw a star next to a chair you liked until his message to take the whale out you emptied and rinsed. A sip of the tea had you smacking your lips and hunting for a bit of honey at his suggestion when it was a bit bitter for your taste. Noting the last of your jar you made a mental reminder to head to the town market to pick some more up. It did smooth it for you and once rinsed you let your mug dry to head to your room and change for the day. Jeans and a tank top was what you chose with your favorite green flannel to go over it matching your shoes.

Tucking your hat on low you added your magazine and marker to your bag you shouldered saying goodbye to your birds. A quick stop to the market had the honey you needed in your bag and then you were off. Straight to the shopping square not far from the station and shop. Just combing your hair this morning had more blonde patches and the snow like strands made it all the more obvious what clan you were from next to your eyes, hence the hat. All the same you were off to your distant cousins who knew your struggles all too much from their own centuries of facing the same link until having set themselves apart and finding success.

Lingering around her for as long as they could Fili and Kili stayed with Mal after their night of cuddling on the couch post movie mini marathon wondering just what she could need in town taking her from their company. Fili sighed only seeing his uncles coming out of their shop that sat empty for the time being asking, “You have to go?”

Mal grinned kissing his cheek, “You’re the one off to the airport in an hour. I thought you might prefer to slip away, not have the full emotional goodbye.”

Kili latched onto her back making her smirk, “But I like the emotional goodbye part.”

Thorin leaned in the doorway with Dwalin against his side between him and Balin, the latter asking, “What’s all this? You could come inside you know.”

Kili, “Apparently Mal is trying to slip away.”

Mal rolled her eyes and Thorin rumbled, “From you or is Miss Mal expected somewhere?”

Dwalin’s elbow tapped into Thorin’s side gaining his gaze that turned further down the street straightening up the Dwarf who eased out of the doorway making Mal smirk looking him over after noticing who he was fixing himself up for. Straight up to him you strode while Dwalin chatted with the trio, “How did the honey fare?”

“Good,” you said nodding, “Bought another jar on my way here at the mini market by the house.”

Near to a purr he hummed out, “I didn’t expect you to be in so soon for more tea.”

Smirking up at him you said, “I’m actually off to re-dye my hair. Might even go blue this time, who knows.”

“No, you can’t,” your brow arched up and he hastily added, “Green, suits you.”

To which you nodded and said, “Mhmm, well I still have a couple blocks to go. See you after though.”

He nodded and stepped after you in your spinning steps towards the shop where Dwalin asked, “Back so soon?”

“Off to get my hair done.”

Mal wiggled free kissing Fili and Kili’s cheeks, “That sounds lovely. Been meaning to get my hair done.”

Fili, Kili both said, “But-,”

She kissed their cheeks again, “I will see you Monday. Enjoy your race.” She said joining you on your path down the street giggling to herself.

Lowly behind your backs Fili asked, “Are, are we just going to let them go off together?”

Kili, “Well we can’t stop them.”

Dwalin smirked saying, “They do seem like they could be friendly.”

Balin nodded, “Good sign so far.”

Thorin sighed and turned to head inside lost for what to do to distract himself until you were back again for more tea. All the guys milled after him lost in their own confusion on when the boys especially could text Mal asking about her time with you and how you got along.

The back private room was opened for you and once closed behind the twins Amrod and Amras with crimson hair tired back in high buns you removed your hat and the pair got to combing your hair smirking at the shedding of the rest of your green hair dye. Dividing your hair in half the duo got to mixing the prepped coloring in large bowls they used brushes to coat each section of your hair back to the deep forest green that made you smirk between pages of your magazine starring more items you might like.

Amrod, “We hear you’ve bought yourself a home from Glori and Echo.”

Amras grinned saying, “I fully expect there to be quite the bash once you get it furnished.”

Softly you giggled, “That may take some time.”

Making Amrod say, “No need to rush. We know how you like your pace. Anything you would want for a housewarming gift?”

Amras, “I know you liked that painting of those sheep last time you visited.”

“I am not taking your painting.”

Lowly he chuckled, “I can paint you another. Fairly simple to do I have the time.”

Amrod, “Ooh, and you did like that vase I have in the sitting room. I could make you one of those.”

Mal said, “Well my gift is coming in next week.” You glanced at her and she said, “It’s practical, I bought you set of cute bath towels you can hide in a spare bath if you don’t like them. I would have gotten you a blender but you said the birds don’t like them.”

“I never said they don’t like them.” That made her glance at you while the Elf behind her eased the top of her hair up into a bun on top of her head. “I said they can’t be near them. They like to blend things. Last time I had one I came home to find all my oranges and apples all over my kitchen.” Making her giggle while the twins pulled down another section of your hair to keep adding dye to. “I am sure the towel set will be lovely. I do have to pick themes for the spares, Naneth swears themes bring luck to homes.”

A handful of the hair on the back of Mal’s head was grabbed and twisted then cut off near the root starting the task of trimming the section down into a triangle on the back of her head to shave a Dwarven rune for lotus out of it. The Elf would then bleach the hair there just enough to turn her maroon hair pink on that one section completing her chosen look. Carefully your curls were coated and the color soaked in as you looked over the magazine the duo stood looking over your choices themselves until it was time to rinse you.

Next came the hard part. Once washed it had to be dried and under their propped up dryers the pair combed through your curls taking them and revealing the temptingly forest green shade making you smirk again. While Mal was off to head to her shift at the tattoo shop you were off to the tea shop and fired off a message to Thorin. “Prepare to be floored. They decided on blue.”

Lowly through a growling exhale against the wall he had walked to giving the others more space while he was distracted Thorin replied far more supportively than he had felt at the moment. “I am certain the shade will look lovely on you.”

Smirking at your phone on the last turn you replied, “Not sure, bit of an odd shade. They added some yellow to it and it’s quite an unmistakable shade.”

Under furrowed brows his eyes reread the message and he asked, “What do you mean?”

The door opening however had him glancing up to find you trotting in with a teasing grin straight up to the counter after the final person in your way had given their order luring Thorin closer. “It’s got to be the oddest shade of blue I’ve ever seen.”

“Not funny.”

With a giggle you replied, “It’s a little funny.” Making him roll his eyes, “What have you got for me today, my good Mug Dealer?”

“You’ll see.”

“That I will. Along with the answer to if I got you out of your pants twice in a row.” You teased passing him the bill in a turn for your chosen table.

Dwalin was there asking when his cousin turned, “And, just how has she gotten you out of your pants? Not once but twice?”

Thorin rumbled back, “Part of the turndown service is an offer of a cocktail. She’s got one sure to knock your pants off. Literally.”

Dwalin chuckled turning after him, “Turndown service? You followed her to the hotel?”

Thorin, “We painted. I booked a room, Tili was the one who put me on her floor.”

Dwalin purred out, “You, her, cocktails,”

“She was working.”

Dwalin patted his back teasing, “Still got your pants off though.” Making Thorin smirk and roll his eyes.

“Are you at home?” The message popped up on your phone and while Thorin was busy handling another customer you called Thranduil.

“Hey Dew Drop, what’s going on?” The fluid Vanyar had glanced stolen your way wondering what language you were speaking.

“Some house warming gifts are coming your way.”

“What did you send to my home?” You replied putting your book back in your bag signaling Dwalin over curious as to why you were leaving so early.

“We love you. No take backs.” The line cut off and you scoffed at the screen of your phone.

Dwalin beside the table asked, “Something wrong?”

Still in Vanyar you replied, “My friend sent something to my house..” you said before finishing off your tea.

“You’re gonna have to run that by me again.”

“Hmm?” You asked then repeated in the common tongue, “My friend sent something to my house. It’s being delivered.”

Dwalin nodded saying, “Ah, well come with me I’ll drive you back.”

“Uh-,”

Lowly he chuckled saying, “Don’t worry, they can manage till I get back.”

“Ok.” You said shouldering your bag to follow him through the back of the shop to his car beside Thorin’s, Balin’s and the one another employee was pulling into one of the free spots.

Dwalin all the way kept stealing glances at you in your tries to get Thranduil to tell you what you were receiving to no avail. “What language was that?” He fumbled making you turn your head.

“Oh, Vanyar. Really old Elvish.”

“Didn’t know many Elves who knew or even were Vanyar.”

“Only ones I know of are old friends who lived in Lindon, moved from Doriath when we were little. The wife and her son and grandson speak it fluently while the husband is still a bit rough. Grew up on Teleri, dialects are hard to cross.”

Outside your home he parked on the street and got out with you to help you move a rock in your front yard to prop open the front gate and hurry inside to warn your birds.

Unlocking the door you entered finding Belly upside down on one of the chandelier support arches, not foolish to hang off the fixture itself in case he was too heavy. While Kuu came out of your empty hall to the left of the entrance asking, “Jack Rabbit? It is not Thursday?”

“It is, just some friends sent a gift and it’s arriving. So some people are coming to drop whatever it is off.”

Belly said, “Ahh, I shall count the herd.” Letting go and releasing his wings to drop into an arching soar through the house to ensure the hummingbirds didn’t leave the house. Kuu however strolled back through the hallway, “I shall wait in my pantry.” The sighing comment made even Dwalin chuckle in not understanding what the bird said.

“They do not like company?”

In a glance at Dwalin you noticed the truck pulling up with a full trailer you hoped to only have a small item inside of only to sigh seeing a second truck pull up behind it with just electronics from the shop it was sent from. “That’s two trucks,” Dwalin muttered and you nodded.

“I’m gonna kill Dew Drop.” You muttered only to grin at the approaching pair of Elves from the first larger truck and accepted the tablet he held to sign for the delivery. From the back five more Elves from the cab opened your lips parted seeing the first of your many gifts, the purple fainting couch you had wanted for years with note included on top stating it was a gift from Celebrimbor.

That was taken to your bedroom and behind them a rotating expanding circular table complete with expanding bench seats with heavy cushioning was carried in next to the dining room you informed them how to get to marked from Haldir and his brothers.

While they set that up you guided the team in charge of setting up the Projector systems into your living room and theater with a regular flat screen and stand to be put in your bedroom from Celeborn.

From Elrond a blue regal styled backrest having blue lounging double seated couch was settled into your theater that left ample room to add more seating if you wished later.

Lastly from Thranduil and his family came a round lounging seat also for your study in black plushy material and a square couch with a foot rest to settle into the middle turning it into a giant cushioned surface of you wished for ample lounging or entertaining space in a grey velour.

Final checks were given on the projector systems and the tv in your bedroom now revealed to have full media players for you to simply dig out one of your films and play it if you wished. Another signature each was given to the speedy teams who ensured everything was to your liking before leaving. Stumped for a moment on what to do with all these gifts now partially furnishing your home you shifted on your feet eyeing the dining room table once again as Dwalin gave it a curious once over trying to picture how many Durins could fit at the table barely three foot across gorgeous wooden creation.

“It’s nice.” He said noticing you were looking at him.

Weakly you giggled and he followed your move to slide the bench seats away to the walls and watched you press your fingers to a hidden latch and turn the table dropping his jaw as it grew three times over. With a cherry wood on the mahogany top growing flower design across the surface rippling up from the top while the supports branched out in interwoven vines to steady the now massive table. “I have always wanted one of these, my friend makes them. Those are the spare seats.” His head turned to the arch of benches with the decorative backs revealing a hidden design of a tree once together he had missed before with his interest in the table he helped you to spin onwards again expanding the center support with the jigsaw like pieces lowered down again meeting the retracted supportive legs.

“Wow, so, table you wanted,”

Through the house you went saying in the living room, “My friend has a couch like this, the center square here slides out,” you said removing the foot rest to convert the seat on the end to a lounger matching the one across from it. “So you can either burrow in as a spare bed or all cuddle for movies, or just have ample room for however many people pop up on you.” Making him chuckle and follow you stealing another picture to share once he got back along with notes of having the top of the line entertainment systems put in on record time.

Into your theater you said, “This would probably just be for me, so more private lounger here.” Nodding at the arm rests with hidden cubbies and a tablet stand on one side joining the compartment in the extended leg rest sections able to store blankets or spare pillows and such. He nodded snapping a picture behind your back on his phone then eyed the bed now fully expanded dropping his jaw at the sheer size of it and the round seat as fainting couch. “And these, for my study. Which I was going to have painted. So they’re here for now.”

Dwalin nodded and said, “Your friends are amazing, and love you a great deal to send such gifts.”

Sheepishly you nodded and he reached out to rub your back at a tear stopping sniffle you tried to do quietly, “Ya. They’ve tried really hard to help me. A lot of times suffering for my status.” His eyes met yours and his brows inched together trying not to tear up at the tears forming in your eyes you were fighting, “It’s been really hard, but they never turned away. I just, have to keep proving how grateful I am for them keeping me.”

“Oh come here,” he said stepping closer to give you the hug you were greatly needing right now you clenched your eyes through soaking in the warm gesture until you could be with your contact heavy friends again. Each with just as big an urge to hug and cuddle as you felt in their own busy schedules isolating them for periods of time.

Your alarm sounded and you said, “Ah, my train.” Pulling back to flash him a timid grin he returned with a wider one.

“I’ll drop you.” On the way back to the door he joined you saying, “It is all lovely. And that bed, is that the same bed from your flat?”

You nodded locking your door after bidding your birds goodbye and giving the all clear. “Ya, Troll bed, so soft.” You said with a chuckle inducing eye roll deepening his grin.

“I bet. Could fit twenty of you on it.”

“Oh I doubt it. I tend to get into battles with the people I share beds with I hear. Usually end up on top of them.” Making him chuckle again.

“Don’t we all.” He muttered walking back to the car knocking the rock away to allow you to close the gate again.

All through your shift word exploded through the Durins and all together it was mentally etched in that you needed painting done and that the place was a quarter of the way complete by their reckoning. From what they had hoped to initially be the home of a friend of a relative now lines seemed to blur as endearing comments and tales of your person has morphed you into more of a prospective relative. Bittersweet Thorin clung to the intimate moment you shared without an audience past Roac, who was busy preening so he didn’t really count. Though that moment was gone and he wondered how he could possibly work himself into popping by your tattoo appointment or even after with some comfort food to help you relax.

Anxious didn’t come close and straight through a night of remembering the painful process of being submitted to Ruun your body felt well rested while mentally you were ragged and in use of some good tea.

A hot shower was followed by your pulling on what might seem to be an absurdly hard working corset you hooked on that hoisted your cleavage up to where even you would be unable to stare without the proper shirt. Matching silver panties were added with jean shorts over them to cover the bottom of the sleek halter top in a bright red. The top had a thick band around your neck and scooped to reveal your shoulders and well below your shoulder blades giving a glimpse of the top of your silk corset. Sock and shoes were added while waiting for your tea to brew.

Blankly you assembled your stack of magazines and markers to go with your sketch book solely for your house designs to distract you. Peas were boiled for Kuu while you cooked your filling breakfast you don’t recall finishing off. Four sips in and it seemed you blinked yourself outside Bilbo’s shop.

Note of your nerves were taken and scooping your hair up into a clip you hopped up into the lounger with a full arm rest table Bilbo set up for you. “You didn’t tell me you were getting a tattoo...” Mal’s words ended in her gaze dropping to your large scar and the tiny scars across your shoulder and bicep.

“I only got the offer last week.”

Bilbo fully gloved accepted the line transfer sheets he molded into place leaving the imprint of the feather first, choosing to simply use a marker to draw reminder lines to help border the uv parts he would add the transfers to when the feather was done. Stating softly, “Now, I think it best to start up here at the worst spot, let you ease to the gentler spots.”

“Whichever you think is best, you are the expert. And if you gotta go the other way go for it. It’s your art.”

“That, is flattering, all the same I prefer to go worst to better.” Earning another nod from you. And in your using a string to tie in your top a bit more for a tricky spot he folded a paper towel around to protect the fabric he gave you a countdown and started the tattoo while you eyed your magazine Mal stood by hoping to help you through the painful process of she could.

Page by page you inspected the magazine one handedly writing notes and drawing stars next to what intrigued you until the opening of the front door raised your eyes to the group of teens entering the shop as Mal’s focus turned more to Bilbo’s need for more coloring. Bombur, every bit as stunning a Dwarf as you could imagine Dams to believe, with the allure added of having 14 children, 6 of which were here in tow, his oldest nearly fully grown to be choosing a home of their own no doubt soon enough.

His head bowed and you nodded in return making sure not to disturb Bilbo’s work hoping the deep focused furrow of his brow was a good sign as you were a bit frightened to look down just yet. “Miss Pear, I understand this might seem to be an ambush of sorts, however we had heard you just got some furniture yesterday and were in need of some painting.” He ushered his oldest two in front of him, “My oldest, they run their own painting firm, and we thought we might be able to help you hash out some ideas on what you might want.”

1 said with a deeper twitching grin, “Family prices of course.” To which 2 nodded fervently.

Weakly you chuckled and said, “Why not. I have some ideas what I would like.”

Three hours had gone by and you had transferred on their own sketch pad drawn out your floor plan and from their booklets of color swatches you had chosen an ample amount of colors for nearly each room. The walls of which were re-sketched by you to show where you wanted each color making the job much simpler. An itemized list was made of all the paint and before you could say anything they were off rounding up supplies making you exhale sharply and glance at Bilbo in his wiping off a final bit of excess ink. “I guess I’m getting my place painted today.”

With a smirk Bilbo glanced at you from seeing Dwalin strolling through the door with Thorin in tow, then said, “Yes it does seem that way. They do mean well.”

You shook your head, “Agh, it’s fine. Might as well get it all done. It will be certainly more colorful for my first weekend in.”

Bilbo chuckled and wet another cloth to gently brush across the galaxy bubble filled feather making Dwalin let out am impressed whistle. “Well, now, if you don’t mind, we have to change chairs.” He turned to the guys, “I take it you brought refreshments?”

Thorin raised a to go mug saying, “Yup. And a sandwich. To keep up your strength.”

Bilbo nodded saying, “Uv shouldn’t take long, I’ll give you ten minutes, let’s say, to nibble and then it should all be set up for you.”

Removing his gloves he got to setting up the light while Thorin came over to you at the chair when Bilbo had laid a spare towel across your lap. Sheepishly Thorin’s gaze shifted over your feather tattoo so far asking, “Did it hurt much? It looks phenomenal.”

With one hand you raised the half of the sandwich oddly cut into the shape of a duck removing the crust then cut in half and replied before taking a bite, “Hurt less than the burn.”

With a smirk he asked seeing a pamphlet left from Bombur with your open magazine and sketch book, “Bilbo showed you a pamphlet from the painting firm?”

“Bombur and his children are off buying paint. Spent the last few hours choosing my colors.” That had his lips parting, “Apparently my home is being painted today.”

Dwalin came into your view saying, “Well we’ll watch over them if you like.”

“You-,”

Thorin chimed in, “Yes, you should be relaxing after this, not having to deal with all that, we can cover that.”

Mal chimed in, “And we could go shopping. Look for some more towels and such like you said earlier to help fill in your baths at least.” She said while feeding BamBam his latest bottle in the doorway of the break room.

“That could take hours.”

The statement deepening her smirk, “Wouldn’t you know, I’ve got hours.”

Finishing the sandwich between sips of the calming mug of cider you moved to the second chair to rest your lower torso against the chair you were more or less straddling while the group milled around you watching Bilbo settling his sketches and things in order before switching on the uv lamp. Again your scar lit up accenting the hidden uv bits tucked to accent the bubbles and stars in the feather while the others’ eyes honed in on the stamped uv markers revealed underneath it. A countdown came again and the first of the bird silhouettes was begun.

Steadily while Thorin tried to distract you he inspected each of your designs making certain once the teens had returned for the final run through of the plan his eyes shifted to your trembling hand. No other signs were given of your pain while Bilbo traced around the lingering uv marker in a deep scar being turned into the stem of a falling feather. Your face still trying not to show the pain you were feeling and subtly Thorin shifted laying his paw of a hand over yours to ease you through it by giving you something for your fingers to grip at least lightly if you wished until he passed the spot over.

Keys were passed over and determined to look out for your home with Dwalin, Thorin joined in the group heading over to your home with a promise nothing would be harmed and your birds would be looked after. The latter of which would be calmed from their sure huddle around the guests with a video call from you to allow the others inside to paint with a compromise of Thorin making Kuu more peas. And by the end of his own interrogation Belly outright demanded to meet Roac changing the subject to how to bond with his new prospective friend.

Lost to your planning again, or at least list forming on what you might need for each bath past your own while you watched Mal get more engrossed in her texting her beaus than planning on the store. A sharp gasp had her looking your way to say, “They’re bringing their uncle Dain to meet BamBam.”

“Good. Don’t you mind me. Go settle the little one.”

With an eager squeak she hurried upstairs to change and Bilbo said, “Nearly done now, just over the shoulder blade.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere on you.”

Softly he chuckled, “Same to you. It is looking lovely and should heal nicely.”

All the same you sat contently still continuing to flip through your magazine while Bilbo listened to your scattered ramblings on pieces you were stumped on possibly choosing only deepening his fondness of you.

A final wipe of your shoulder blade and a thin layer of goop was added giving the new art a fresh shine like your arm and chest had been laminated. In front of the mirror you stood with lips cracking apart seeing the initial tattoo and tiny prick marks from the uv ink spots before the other tattoo artist held up a lamp and Bilbo held a handheld mirror behind you. The second mirror granting you a clear shot of the art now etched into your skin stirring tears into your eyes.

The blurry turn from you came with a tight one arm hug Bilbo chuckled and melted into knowing how painful these tattoos could be emotionally for those sent to the war camps he had helped before. Grateful to have helped you in his pull back to guide you to wrap your arm in cling wrap like a plate of left overs limiting you to one arm for your shopping trip certain to end you with next to nothing with no car to fill with what you desired. Tape held the wrap in place and you undid the string on your top allowing it to sit naturally again covering part of your feather on your chest stirring a warmth in that spot.

“Now it should be healed by tomorrow night, be sure to add the goo every few hours when you feel it drying out and tonight you can shower, just let the water run over it, no scrubbing. Tomorrow the same, if you’re a once a day bather. If not tomorrow night is fine, your skin will feel itchy tomorrow and a shower will help. Pillows might help to keep you off it in your sleep. Just cram a couple under your back to prop you up.”

You nodded and thanked him again heading out of the shop, “I’ll come drop by Monday then, let you see how I’ve managed.” Earning a chuckle from him while he turned to go fetch Frodo’s diaper bag he noticed Dwalin forgot to go and run it over to your house he could share the progress of both sides to your day.

Pt 10

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shesakillerkween

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim, @jotink78, @pastelhexmaniac

#Thorin x Reader OC #Fili/Kili x OC Mal #Dwalin x Bilbo #Hobbit #lotr

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endless-vall · 5 years

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Merciful Love - Kenna & Raydan fanfic

Summary: A late night talk between Kenna and Raydan. He tells her more about his past, and she asks him to make a promise for their future.

Author’s note: Beware! Angst ahead. I was wondering for A LONG TIME where Raydan got the huge scars on his chest, and since it was never mentioned in the story, I took the liberty to explain it myself. It turned out a bit dark, but I imagine his origin story to be, so... Yeah.

For those of you that read my work, I have a whole backstory about Raydan and Adder’s mother. In this piece, we learn a bit more about the rest of the family, too.

I also haven’t written in a long while, but had this WIP in my drafts for a while. Figured out I’d finish it, as a way to slowly go back into the process of writing.

Honestly, I’m not sure who to tag in it. @endlessflame @meeraaverywalker @regina-and-happiness ? Thought you might be interested 😊

Kenna sighed, a tinge of blissfulness rolling from her lips. She was laying right next to Raydan, his eyes fluttered close and his chest rising and falling with each breathe.

She watched him in awe. It was truly a rare moment, that he had let his guard down.

He allowed himself to fall soundly asleep, and Kenna was wise enough to know it was a luxury reserved for her only.

She was laying on her side, resting her head on top of her knuckles and watching Raydan's bare chest.

His muscles, his toned skin, his hair, and... His scars.

The robe he was wearing was wide open, and Kenna's free hand yearned to run her fingers over his soft skin. But she was too afraid it'd wake him up, and burst her bubble.

For some, unknown reason, she felt as if that moment was perfect. There was no grand event, no marvelous victory to celebrate, the future was still uncertain and she was yet to obtain her kingdom back, but... It just a rare and beautiful moment with the man she came to love.

Hesitantly, she raised her hand. Watching his face intently, her fingers hovered over a big scar on his chest. Too close to his heart, she feared. Agony almost washed over, as she shook her head.

Raydan told her about some of his scars, and some she knew herself from the battles they've already fought together.

There was the one he got when he got caught stealing bread, to feed himself and his sister at a young age. She moved her hand to that one, over the back of the palm of his hand. She still hovered, but finally she dared and closed the distance, brushing her fingers ever so slightly on Raydan's skin.

He didn't wake up, thankfully, and Kenna released a breathe she didn't know she was holding out.

Then, the one he got at a little older age, for breaking out an innocent man and putting the guilty, sleazy but wealthy behind bars, over his shoulder. This one ran deep, and Kenna winced at the thought of how painful that must’ve been, if it was still showing so badly. She ran her hand all the way up, with feather-like touch and struck in awe glance in her eyes. Wishing she could heal him with her touch. She knew Raydan was over it, and frankly, for doing what he believed was right - Raydan was ready to pay any price. That thought, had scared her, too.

Then, there was a new one, still a bit red on the surface. Right under his rib-cage. Kenna felt guilty for that one. He got it while protecting her. Jumping right in front of her in battle, a Nervakis soldier’s spear sliced through his skin and struck him.

It must've shown on her face, the guilt showering her eyes and her eyebrows tangling and twitching into knots, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Her eyes fluttered again, for the scar over his chest. Curiosity washed over her features, but this time she didn't dare to touch the scarred tissue. She hovered over it again, her lips parting, as if looking for the right word.

When she was about to give up, to call it a night and go back to sleep, she felt Raydan’s strong hand closing around her own.

She blinks up at him, while he guided her hand down and clasped it over his chest. Just above his scar.

Just where she wouldn’t dare touch.

She didn’t know where he got that one from. He never told her and she never dared ask. It felt too personal, too dangerous. But he defiantly had it for a long time, long before he’d met her.

She was struck speechless, for a few long moments, and she let her eyes travel between their intertwined hands and Raydan's sleepy face.

"How long you've been awake for?" She finally asked, a pinkish color making its way to her cheeks, visible even in the dimly lit night.

She could swear he was soundly asleep just a moment ago. She’d made sure to check that, before roaming his body.

"For a minute or so," He confessed, His lips are curled into a tender smile. Not a very large one, but a genuine nonetheless.

Of course, he was a trained spy after all. He was always on alert, she figured.

She smiled back, and slid a little closer, resting her head on top of his shoulder.

"Sorry I woke you up." She mumbled against his skin, praying in her heart for him not to ask just what she was doing.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He mumbles back, his eyes still half open.

“Mmhm... Just got a bit carried away.” She tells him. That’s not exactly a lie.

“And what did you occupy your mind with?” He asked then, a smug smile growing onto his lips.

Kenna sighed, an apologetic smile spreading across her own lips. “I was wondering...” She starts, then looks up at Raydan, unable to finish her sentence. It wasn’t her place to ask where he got those scars. He’d tell her in the right time, when he feels comfortable enough, he deserved that much.

“Where I got this one?” He asked, giving her hand a squeeze, and running their intertwined hands across the scar over his chest.

Kenna only nodded in response. “But you don’t have to tell me, I was just-”

“My uncle.” Raydan uttered the words without waiting for Kenna to finish her own sentence.

The answer, itself however, was barely more than a whisper.

“Your uncle?” She repeated, her eyebrows turning into a frown once again.

Kenna didn’t know much about Raydan’s family. There wasn’t much to know, to begin with, and he was a very private person. But she had heard about his mother, his sister, and on one occasion, even of his father. But never about his uncle. She was surprised at his answer, to say the least.

“I told you about my mother,” Raydan started, and Kenna followed, nodding.

He had told her, not quite much, but enough for Kenna to make out the important details. His and Adder’s mother was wonderful, but died when they were in a young age, and everything went downhill from there.

“After she died, our father... He lost it. He got drunk every night, gambled, and eventually, he did not only lose our house, but his life, as well.

Although he wasn’t exactly present in our lives, long before he died. In truth, we lost him the moment we lost our mother.” Raydan recalled, and Kenna listened carefully. She was holding her breath again, making sure she won’t miss any detail. She knew this wasn’t an easy story to tell.

Raydan shut his eyes, for a long time. She could see the strain on them, and ran her hand comfortingly along his body. “It’s okay,” She said eventually. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like-” She assured, but he stopped her once again.

All it took this time was for Raydan to open his eyes, and look at Kenna intently.

“No, I want to...” He assured her, tone genuine and intimate. “Just, give me another moment. I haven’t told this to anyone... Ever.” He admitted, and Kenna nodded.

“After that... Well, I know I used to tell you that we had no one left, but this isn’t true. Not exactly. We had our uncle. From our mother’s side. He was a wealthy man, and a cruel one, too. He got custody over us, when we lost our father.”

“He did this to you?” Kenna’s stomach twisted, making her sick to her bones. She was furious, ready to concur mountains and slay giants just to make things right again, to make sure Raydan never experiences something like this again. She wanted to be able to change the past, too, and make sure it would never have happened in the first place, but that was out of her powers, unfortunately.

“No, not exactly.” Raydan gulped, though he looked more determined now. As if he finally hit resolve.

The rest of the story followed after. Easier to get out, to be finally told.

“He gave us shelter, but wanted nothing to do with us. You see, he had a high rank in the Nervakis social circle, and two orphan kids who spent the most of their time in the streets had no place in such environment. He was a impatient, and a bully, so it was best if he didn’t see or hear from us, days or weeks at a time.

So me and Adder continued to roam the streets. We continued to do our jobs, to earn money and more importantly, valuable connections and secrets.

Until, one day, I was caught. Stealing a highly sensitive information and more importantly, from a famous person. I was brought upon his doorstep, and left for him to be the judge of me.

I didn’t know, back then, I was better off judged before a complete stranger than my own uncle.

At first he yelled at me, telling me this family didn’t consist of liars and thieves. You understand the irony, right? He would’ve never gotten into the position he held without lying and killing his way to the top. He was just never caught. A true politician.

Then, he said he had no longer use for me, and threw me out to street. I was relieved, for a moment. Thought it was the end of it and that wasn’t too bad after all.

But then his servants came out. And I got how wrong I was. All of them, came at me, at once. I was a young boy, at the time. Barely could hold off, a handful of them. They came at me with all they got. Fists, leashes, sticks. Everything.

Adder somehow managed to stop them. Got knows where she came from, but she saved my life that day.

She got me out of there, barely conscious. We ran, as far as we could, and swore never to return.”

Raydan finished his story, now looking at Kenna and trying to read her expression.

For the first time, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, lips slightly parted.

“I don’t want you to think less of me-” It was Kenna’s turn to interrupt him, doing so by caressing his face and looking at him as tenderly as humanly possible. Maybe even more than humanly possible. At that moment, Raydan could’ve swore Kenna was some kind of angel, sent down to earth.

She leaned in and kissed him. So soft Raydan was wondering if she was doing it purposely, or maybe he was dreaming at the moment.

Kenna’s kisses usually were much harsher. Fierce, sometimes chaste. Like she was stealing something she knew wasn’t right for her, but couldn’t find the power in herself to stop. They tasted of war, or of everything that was taken from her, forbidden.

Not today, they didn’t.

“No, none of that, now.” She said, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Thank you for sharing this with me... I...” Kenna had something new in her eyes. Some kind of burning fury.

“Did you... Ever, go back? If you don’t mind me asking?” She asked.

“I didn’t. But apparently Adder did. Whatever went down there, the bastard got what he deserved, and all his fortune got divided between the black asps and all the hungry children across of Abanthus.”

“Oh,” Kenna sighed. “Well, I guess it’s better off that way.” She nodded.

“Did you plan to go there?” Raydan raised an eyebrow at her. He was almost amused, for a moment, but didn’t let it show on his face. Would Kenna have gone there, for him? He wondered. He’s sure glad there was no way to learn the answer now. He didn’t know what kind of answer he would like, anyway.

“Do you blame me for wanting?” She pulled at her shoulders.

“Not really... But, Kenna, I never want you to put yourself in harm’s way for me.” Raydan noted, pointing out. He turned to his side, now facing Kenna directly. He rested his head on his hand and caressed Kenna with the other.

“I hate what he did, I do. But it also happened a long time ago. And I don’t want you to risk yourself for some revenge-driven journey. You’re a queen, you deserve better than that.” Raydan had true concern in his eyes, the kind that told Kenna that the man in front of her, cared for her more than life itself.

She rested her forehead against his, letting a small but meaningful smile play across her lips.

“I’m a queen without a kingdom. I’m as good as anyone else. And while my main motive is to get my kingdom back and unite the nations, I also hate Luther for what he did. It’s not about revenge as much as it is about justice.”

“You’re a queen nonetheless. You have a whole army behind you. Hell, you have several armies, allies, kings and queens ready to fight at your side for what’s right. You’ll have your kingdom back in no time. Moreover, you’ll have justice.

But, Kenna, you’re also known to be a merciful queen. Please don’t forget that, when you do.”

Kenna nodded, knowing Raydan was right.

Maybe it was a good thing the black asps took care of Raydan’s uncle. Since she doesn’t know what she would’ve done had she got her hands on him.

“I won’t forget, I promise. But just in case... Promise to be by my side, to remind me, if I do?” She asked, and the air in their tent suddenly became normal again. Lighter, even.

“I do.” Raydan nodded.

It wasn’t much. It was just a promise. She already had his undying loyalty, support and advice.

But somehow, it was a promise of something more. Something they both knew was too early to discuss, let along to believe the possibility of it becoming a reality. Too dangerous to have hoped so...

And yet...

It was exactly what it was.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfic #the crown and the flame #kenna x raydan #raydan lykel #kenna rys #tcatf #my writing

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galivantingg · 5 years

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Behind Those Eyes

Chapter 1

If I hear the word essentially one more time I'm going to riot. It's my English teacher's favourite word, and she had used it three times in the past sentence. Three times. That word is ruined for me now. And it's a good word too. My teacher stood at the front of the room, the first day of class, lecturing after saying she didn't want to lecture on our first day back. She was going to briefly tell us what books we'd be reading this year, and what our theme is. Every year we get a theme, last year's was a dystopian world. We read a few books, but the main one was Brave New World. That book freaked me out a little, and I'm secretly a superhero.

About 100 years ago, an anomaly was discovered in some humans. An anomaly that gave us powers. Some could heal, some could manipulate gravity, some could even teleport. It was chaos. That's when we discovered that some people had some really terrible powers. Able to spread sickness and disease with a single touch. Things went badly. We went into what we now call the Second Dark Age. Until the remaining governments put some laws in place. Laws that dictate that nobody is allowed to use their powers outside of their homes, nobody. Not even the Queen.

We rebuilt after that. People were scared so they followed the rules. Until about fifteen years ago. Some villains came out of hiding, using their powers for bad. Heathen, he could change people's faith with a single thought. He usually went after spiritual leaders, and convinced them to condemn what they believe in. Mime, you never heard her coming, and then you'd never be able to talk or move again. She turned people into living statues, and they stayed that way either until she grew bored or they died of dehydration or starvation. Peculiar, she slowly turned people insane with a single kiss, anywhere. It would start out small, then you'd become more and more peculiar, until you turned insane. They was no cure. And the worst one of them all, Genocide. He could kill hundreds to thousands of people by way of disease, or natural disasters.

We didn't know there was a person behind the large groups of bodies, not until we realized their connection and Genocide announced himself. They all went to the same church, had the same shade of hair, were the same ethnicity, or had the same name. We don't know how to stop him. The only consolation we have is it takes him extremely long to work up a genocide. It requires more power than you can imagine. It should take more power than you can imagine, these are people's lives we're talking about. You shouldn't be able to just snap your fingers and be done with it.

Ms. Varone snapped me out of my thoughts. "Nessa," she was looking right at me. I hate that look. "Anything you'd care to add to the conversation?" She leaned her weight onto one leg, still looking at me. Uh oh, I thought. Better think of something quick. She isn't your biggest fan, not after the debacle last year.

"I was just wondering what this year's theme is, and how it relates to out culminating task," I responded smoothly, hoping she hadn't covered that when I'd been distracted by my thoughts.

"Excellent question," she said, looking around the class. "This year's theme is loss. Loss in family, in friends, in religion, loss in whatever. We'll be reading The Heart and the Bottle, Norwegian Wood, and Book of Mutter." We all groaned, they sounded like extremely emotional books and no sane seventeen year old would want to read a nonfiction book about loss.

Soon the bell rings, and I pick up my bag and head for History. One of my more interesting courses. This teacher is one of my favourites. He gets so excited about what he's talking about he starts jumping around. It helps that his projects are very easy and fun too. His class is a breeze, and he has a Powerpoint to go over what we'll be reviewing this year. The bell rings again, this time sooner than I thought, and I headed off for lunch. My friends and I always sit outside the library, our large group driving everyone further down the hall because of how loud we could get.

There were sixteen of us in total, but we all had our own mini groups. The Bio Buds: Jay, Quinn, Maria, Kiki and Miele. The Writer Worshippers: me, Roan, Kieran, and Tommy. The Engineer Squad: Penny, Elizabeth, Jake and Noel. And the Gym Gang: Dani, Oscar and Luca. Most of us have been friends since high school started, and some of us even before then. We had our middle school groups, me, Penny, Roan, Dani and Jake coming from St. Peter's, Jay, Quinn, Kieran, Tommy, Elizabeth and Noel coming from Wellington Junior High, and Maria, Kiki, Miele, Oscar and Luca coming from Manuel Public School.

We had a large group of friends, maybe the largest in the school that regularly hung out. The Bio Buds and the Engineer Squad had a lot of classes together, taking the sciences and maths. The Writer Worshippers took all the available English courses, and the Gym Gang of course took all the phys ed and health courses. There was some overlap, here and there, but those were mostly the small groups. We'd all meet at lunch, and sometimes The BBs and ES would go into the library together, comparing notes and working on assignments. I can tell you the WWs brain's melted almost every lunch whenever someone asked how our works in progress are going. Mine certainly did.

This year, however, our group is halved. The only ones left are Jay, Quinn, Roan, Penny, Dani, Kiki, Kieran and Oscar. The others had graduated and gone to university, or were taking a gap year. Some here in the city and others at different universities. Our friend group seemed so small now. It was even quieter.

. . .

Despite knowing Dani and Penny for a good decade, my best friend's name is Martha. She's tall, and has the prettiest brown hair and green eyes. She also happens to be a superhero, and my partner of three years. She had air powers, she used to tickle me with the wind, tease my hair, caress my hands. She doesn't do as often now, what with the villains making a sudden reappearance. She's known by the rest of the world as Aella, meaning whirlwind. I suggested that name. When she joined the Agency, right at the beginning, she would walk around with a bubble of air protecting her, pushing people standing too close back and lifting up everybody's hair. She's gotten friendlier over the years, and she's one of the few people I idolise. I want to be just like her when I'm older, except I won't have her powers. They're so cool.

After school I went home with Noah and Nellie, two other girls who live in the orphanage with me. I'm the oldest in the orphanage, at seventeen, with Noah at fifteen and Nellie at 13. There are thirteen of us total at the orphanage. Lucky number, I know. Not so lucky situations. Most of our parents had died, with no next of kin, or we had been abandoned at the doorstep. I wish I had been abandoned.

Memories of that night invaded my senses, making me shiver. I tried to push them back, but small glimpses of orange and black and the stars twinkling high above me. The smell of smoke invaded my lungs, and I bent over, coughing my heart out. Nell and Noah stopped beside me, pulling back my hair and rubbing my back. I felt something small and cylindrical brush my lips and I latched onto the straw, gulping down as much water as possible. I hated when I got attacks.

It took me a few minutes to calm down, and it was then I realised the smoke wasn't coming from my imagination. There was a building on fire a few blocks away, the thick black smoke billowing out and up into the sky. I stared in horror for a few seconds before Noah pushed me a little.

"Nessa go!" she said. "They need Chameleon."

I dropped my bag and sprinted off into an alleyway, looking back and forth for anyone before shifting. My legs got longer, my chest got flat and wings sprouted from my shoulder blades. My clothes shifted too, covering every inch of my face and body, with a cape unfurling and snapping behind me in the wind. I pushed off the ground, beating my wings, catching the air. I rose high above and shot off towards the fire, surveying the scene.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted movement, and looked to the left seeing a fire truck roaring down the street and an ambulance hot on its trail. Looking closer I noticed that Aella and Waya had hitched a ride on the top of the truck. Good, I thought, not wanting to go at it alone today. I dropped beside them on top of the truck, casually dropping a "Hey" as if we weren't about to go charging into a burning building and I hadn't just dropped out of the sky.

"Okay," Waya said, ever the strategist. "Chameleon, Aella, get the people out of the building. I'm going to conjure rain to help the firefighters. I'll make you guys cold so you resist the heat for a little. Take these masks," he passed them over. Waya also had a cool power. He had the Word of Command. It was a singular word that held power, like saying rain and then it starts raining. He couldn't use more than one word, so he was also a walking thesaurus.

We nodded and Waya and Aella pressed their foreheads together for a moment. They did this every time we were on a mission. They were the cutest couple I had ever met, and I spent half my time teasing them for their cheesiness. What are friends for? Aella and I launched ourselves off the truck, heading straight for the burning apartment building. There were people streaming out of the front and side doors, and some using the fire escape on the side of the building. There were a few people leaning half out of their windows, gesturing towards my partner and I. I heard Waya say "Rain," behind us and the sky darkened, rain falling in heavy sheets. It beat heavily on my wings, dripping down the feathers and onto the ground.

The fire seemed to almost want to rage against the rain before It slowly got a bit smaller. The water helped with the smoke too, and people turned their faces upwards with their mouths open. Aella and I systematically dove towards the windows, pulling people out and dropping them next to the ambulance. The firefighters got the flames under control, and they were working on killing it completely. Aella stood on the ground with her legs planted, and created air bubbles around small parts of the fire, sucking the air out of it. The fires would go out, and stay out. Looking at the scene from high above, it was cool. I loved my job. It's hard sometimes, really hard, but I wouldn't trade it in for any other job in the world. The others at the Agency were my world, and I don't know what I'd do without them.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #original writing #writing community #new writeblr #superhero

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wingedfabray · 6 years

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a kingdom of feathers || quatt

Tagging: Matt Quackerford ( @gotmattitude ) & Quinn Faquack When: Thursday, July 12th, 2018 Where: Grim & War Rare Books Room What: Rutherbray have been bonding the whole time. This time, over a fun little book turned in by our favorite Selkie. Warnings: Chaos, Scientific Names, Fowl Language

Quinn pushed a small, paperback book into a thin space between large, leather tomes. It was the most normal she’d felt in a long time, the most herself. Fingers sliding along paper and the smell of dust and leather and words; that’s where she belonged. Work was cathartic in a world of chaos and expectations. She could say whatever she wanted to a book, it would absorb and remain still. The bell above the door rang, effectively breaking Quinn out of her thoughts. One of their regulars walked through the door, their only customer of the day thus far. His hair was disheveled, and he had a book in one hand, a marker in the other. Lazarus took the opportunity to greet him, while Quinn made her way to Matt. “Kevin still has that marker…” Her eyes narrowed on Kevin’s awestruck expression. “Do you ever worry about him?”

Matt wondered what in the Aether "The trials and tribulations of a lonesome mule" could have to do with geography. Sometimes this job was knowledge, magic and wonder. Other times it was... whatever this cartographer mule had been up to during its lifespan. It seemed like a modern book too. He opened it for a moment, beginning to leaf through it, when the bell indicated a customer had come in. Taking it as a sign from the Aether, he pushed the book back into its shelf. When Quinn approached him, he laughed in disbelief. "I'm not sure if I admire his resilience or if I'm fucking terrified of it." Matt watched as Kevin seemed to absent-mindedly, but very gently, run his fingers over the marker, and outwardly cringed. "Nope, I'm definitely terrified of it."

Quinn winced at the show of affection, her “language, Matt” an afterthought. She briefly wondered about how familiar the action seemed. The thought was shaken away, when Lazarus approached. He held the book Kevin had handed over with two hands, a look of reverence in his eyes Quinn hadn’t seen in…a few days, give or take. He quite loved his books. He gave them instructions to register it in the logs in the rare books room, and handed it to Quinn as though it were a delicate flower. She turned to Matt, book held out in front of her, eyebrows arched, “Shall we?”

Matt always felt like he gained an edge to his respect for books when he saw Lazarus. He nodded at his instruction, and gave Kevin a final, inquisitive glance. "We shall," he answered, letting her hold the title herself, headed over to the rare books room, and if there was an extra spring in his step, he didn't hide it. He was sure Quinn knew, at this point, that he loved the rare books room, if maybe not as much as her or Lazarus. Maybe. He got all the parchment ready, and stepped behind it. "So," he started, an eyebrow raised at looking more so at the book than at Quinn, "what has Kevin dropped on our doorstep this fine-ass evening?"

Quinn set the book down gently on the pedestal that sat in the middle of the Rare Books Room, where books were analyzed for sorting. It was old, leather cracking at the edges, pages aged into a dull, sunset orange. It smelled like dirt and paper, and had the typical, magical hum that Quinn had begun associating with old, powerful tomes. "It's...A Kingdom of Feathers: A Deeper Understanding, hmm." She cast a glance at Matt, one eyebrow arching up, and a small smile on her lips. "Kevin likes birds. Should we look inside?" Without waiting for an answer, she flipped the book open. It seemed to want to help, pages fluttering to page forty-five. Anas Platyrhynchos.

Matt nodded, but let out a bit of a laugh as he cast the spell to log the title of the book. "Was I the only one expecting 'Kingdom of markers?'" he asked, watching as the last letter printed itself on the parchment, crossing glances with Quinn just before she opened the book, giving her a shrug. He glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a dulling drawing of two mallards. Intending to make a non-committal comment along the lines of 'ducks,' he opened his mouth, and a very loud 'QUACK' came out instead. Looking up to Quinn in shock, he found himself open-mouthed, and staring. Had she always had... feathers in her hair? It was then that he noticed the tickling bubbling over his skin, as he, too fucking sprouted feathers. Before he could properly react, or do anything other than quack in rapid, panicked bursts, it happened. He was a duck.

Quinn watched Matt, brows furrowed. He looked...different. Then he quacked, then he had a beak, and all hell broke loose. All Aether, every chaotic spell known to witch kind. She was going to yell, but what came out was a mighty, trilling QUAACK. She waved her arms, but they were wings. Oh God, ohgodohgodohquack! Webbed feet stomped around the rare books room, and rich, green and black feathers seemed to float everywhere. After a (not so) brief moment of utter panic, she finally looked to Matt. Her vision was incredible, but that was beside the point. "Matt?! What do we do?!" It came out as a series of quacks, and Quinn wondered if maybe everything was hopeless, and she should really just transfer to Magical Harvard.

Matt waved his... his wings in front of his face, and the sensation there was too real for this to be an illusion. "What the fuck?!" he tried to say, but the quacks were indistinguishable from each other. "You're a duck! I'm a fucking duck?!" Still quacking. Fucking shitballs. For once, yeah, autocorrect, this was ducking terrible. Shaking his feathers, he focused on fixing this. Fixing it. Verbal communication was out of the question. So casting was out of the question. He looked at Quinn and then at the book on the pedestal, his chest sinking. He had never realized how high up it was before. Ducks had it so hard. He gestured at the book with his wing. Maybe it had a countercharm in the back or something.

Quinn was desperately trying to come to terms with the fact that she was an honest to Aether duck. A loud, web-footed, throw-bread-at-me-in-the-river duck. One minute ago, she had no appreciation for the mallard. She still had none, she just wanted the ability to time travel. Matt’s quacking drew her attention, and she watched his beak aim first at her, then at the book so, so high up on the pedestal. Well duck. How were they supposed to cast, when all they could do was quack? ‘Heavenly quack, I quackly ask that you quack…’ It was never going to work, but what options did they have? “QUACK quackquackquack” she exclaimed, which probably meant ‘we’re going to have to fly, aren’t we?’ But only Quinn knew that. She flopped her wings dramatically for a moment, counting on instinct to carry her upwards. There’s something to be said for hope, because the next thing Quinn knew, she was darting around the rare books room, with a newfound arial view. Wait…how do you land? Her quacking increased, and she glanced down to Matt in a panic. They had to get to the book, just get to the book…

Matt could only vaguely understand the tone of Quinn's quacking, but it wasn't much help, considering the entire vibe of the room right now was resolutely 'what the duck.' Then she started flapping her wings, and although he didn't have the appropriate facial muscles to widen his eyes, he could guess he looked about as shocked as a duck could look. A series of frenzied quacks left him, as he wondered out loud if they could even--and then, well, fuck him, Quinn started flying. His head followed her around the room--he couldn't turn his eyes and it was weird--wings tucked safely at his sides, that is until she seemed to suddenly forget what he was doing. "Quack? QUACK. Quackquackquack," he yelled, as he tried to give her very detailed instructions: uhhh improvise? Oh, shit. He was going to have to help her, wasn't he? Waddling a little on his feet, he shook his feathers like he was shaking off water after a swim. Not that Matt swam. ANYWAY. Shifting his gaze from Quinn to the book, he flapped his wings and went straight up in the air, and as soon as his feet were above the pedestal he stopped flapping. His weight was shifted towards his tail, and he started slipping backwards as soon as he landed. Using his beak as some sort of grappling hook, and flapping again to regain balance, he succeeded in standing, and felt proud of himself for it. Turning towards Quinn, he tried to give her a thumbs up, but he didn't have fingers, so he was just raising his wing.

Quinn flapped circles around Matt, now perched on the pedestal. Yes! Something had gone right. She thought maybe he gave her a thumbs up (wings up? feather up?), but figuring it out was the least of her concerns. Landing first, figuring out how to change back second. From quick glances, she was able to see words glowing softly on the page of the book where Qua-Matt stood. Did she just think quack? Aether dammit it all. Following Matt’s example, Quinn waited until her trajectory was just right, and stopped flapping altogether, tucking her wings to her side and aiming her feet forward to hit the pedestal. Unfortunately, Quinn did not account for speed. Rather than successfully landing by Matt, she took out the pedestal entirely. It toppled sideways with a crash, feathers everywhere.

Matt started quacking encouragements when Quinn flew his way. This wasn't so bad, maybe they could easily figure this out. Oh Quack. He knew this was going to go wrong the second before Quinn's feet hit the pedestal. Bracing himself for impact, he started falling backwards when instinct kicked in and he started flapping his wings just in time, and just enough to avoid being crushed by it, but he still found himself bounding towards the floor, almost comically rolling around until he hopped back on his feet, left wing sore from the impact. He glanced over at Quinn and tilted his head, trying to convey if she was hurt. Then he scanned the pedestal for the book, but it was nowhere to be seen. Turning his head around, he found it had slid all the way to the wall, still open but facing downwards, and waddled his way to it, using his beak to push it towards the light.

Quinn rolled out of the wreckage, a series of angry quacks accompanying the movement. She shook from bill to mottled tail feathers, looking ruffled, but none the worse for wear. “QUACK,” she exclaimed, as she waddled over towards Matt and the upside down book. Her head tilted to the side as she tried to get a better look, nosing the pages with her bill attempting to turn it upright. It flopped over surprisingly easily, pages fluttering automatically open to the page it had been on before. Words shined a bright emerald, “quack?” Which meant something along the lines of “where’s the end, there has to be a way to end this, oh God what if we’re stuck forever, can we just close it???”

Matt scanned the mallard page for some sort of information, but all he found was, as was advertised by the book, information on mallards. Life cycle, behavior, taxonomy... but definitely not 'how to stop being a duck.' The emerald glow to the words seemed to signal their doom. He didn't know exactly what Quinn meant, but he frantically quacked in agreement anyway. Was this it? They had survived the magical world in its most horrific facets, but now they were stuck as ducks? How were they supposed to do anything? "QUACK," he exclaimed, and tried to leaf through the pages to some sort of index, glossary, counterspell, something. But alas, his duck bill dexterity was not comparable to his usual hand dexterity, and instead of flipping through the pages, he closed the book with a sharp THWACK. Annoyed at his lack of control in this feathery body, he went to open the book again, but didn't reach it. It was... getting further away? Shrinking? Giving Quinn yet another panicked glance, but instead of a companion in duck-panic, she found her body slowly changing shape once more. Matt screwed his eyes shot, and prayed that they didn't turn into a different kind of bird.

Quinn quacked a groan as Matt’s feathered wing slammed the book shut. She turned to repri-quack him, but suddenly her perspective changed. The book seemed smaller, flapping wings turned to arms, to blessed fingers that moved and grasped things. She patted at her arms, her legs, her stomach, her hair (which was also very ruffled). For a moment, she could only stand there, waiting for the other shoe to drop. What next? A canary? A whale? Oh Aether, they’d crush the book shop entirely. After a minute passed with nothing happening, Quinn silently bent to pick up the book. She held it firmly shut, then shoved it unceremoniously onto a shelf labeled “DO NOT TOUCH,” sandwiched tightly between two other books. She breathed a sigh, then turned to face Matt. Matt, who was his glorious self again. “We speak of this…To no one.”

Matt opened his eyes slowly, after a few long moments of feeling his body shift and change. He felt around his face, and breathed out a long sigh of relief when he felt a mouth, with his fingers. Thank the Aether for fingers. His left shoulder still throbbed from the fall, and he rubbed at it with his opposite hand, but he barely registered the fact. He'd get some healing for it eventually if it was bad. Eyeing the book as Quinn shelved it in what should've been it's home from the very beginning, Matt gave a sharp nod. "I don't even know what a duck is," he stated, and he was so, so grateful for a voice. Glancing around the disaster of feathers, parchment, and pedestal on the floor, he shook his head in disbelief. "Let's get this shit cleaned up," he said, and maybe, just maybe, waddled over to the mess.

#paras #p: a kingdom of feathers #gotmattitude

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sirgeorgar · 3 years

Text

Change

When the tribes rose, it was such a rising that all of Britain was set aflame, but when the flame of their rebellion died as Rome banked the fire with bodies, it went out like a candle blown out by the wind. Afterward, there was little talk of rising again, though no small number of men nursed a smoldering hatred for Rome for many years, which never fully went out.

But in the long, watchful years of peace that came as the calm after a storm, the smoldering embers turned to other thoughts than those of war and freedom, such as the governing of tribes and villages, and the raising of families.

One such was Varca One-Eye of the Brigantes, whose sight was halved by a Roman javelin, and to him a son was born, ten years to the day when the legions put down the Iceni Queen and her great following. Varca held him aloft with a smile men had not seen in many years, and fed him his first food from the point of a sword.

“Father, why do you send Uval and the others away?”

“Because the Red Crests know we cannot pay a tribute in coin, so they take in able bodied warriors for their companies.” Varca said with his arms folded, watching the small band of tribesmen leaving the village southward, following a lone soldier with a helm hackled with red on a horse with muddy feet.

“Oh.” A pause. “Father?”

“Yes, Tolvel?”

“Will you ever send me away with them?”

Varca looked down at his son, gazing up at him with bright eyes. He stooped suddenly and hugged him fiercely. “No, son, never. Rome will never take you from me. I promise. Not while I live.”

“Father, I met a man today!”

“Oh?” said Varca. “What man? And pass me the reed at your feet. If this roof still leaks tonight it will be a cold and lonely supper.”

“He was in the marsh, with a few others. I was lost, and he sent me home with one of his companions.”

Varca turned to look down at his son from the roof. “What was the cut of this man’s cloth?”

“Red, and his hunting spears were very sharp! He gave me one, see? He said I might use it to hunt bigger game with it than my fishing spears.”

“Give it me.” Varca ran his hand along the shaft and felt the smoothness of the wood.Then with a sharp movement, he broke it across his knee.

“Father!” The cry was one of anguish.

“You will go no more to the marsh, and if you see that man or his companions again you will return at once to me.”

“Father, what is the strange house on the big hill to the south?”

“That is the den of the Red Crests.” Varca said, as he mended the strap of a buckler. “Though they would doubtless call it a nest of Eagles. But it is no place of proud birds. It is a place of wild dogs.”

“The Red Crests don’t seem wild. They walk with their backs stiff and their feet hit the ground all at once, and they wear clothes that are all the same.”

“Indeed.”

“Father?”

“Yes, Tolvel?”

“Why do we not walk like that?”

“Enough! Have I not told you to stay away from the marsh? And the fort you must avoid as well. And no more of this talk of the Red Crests’ customs. I will not have it in my house.”

Varca laughed as his son sped by. “Tolvel, why do you run?”

“Reva!” the boy panted, mud staining his knees. “I’m the last to escape unscathed.”

“Quick, under the cart with you.” The boy scrambled beneath it at once and froze like a hunted rabbit.

“Tol! Tol! Tol,where are you?” A girl, likewise bedaubed with mud, slipped nimbly around the corner of the chieftain’s hall, and slowed at once to halt before him. “Apologies, Lord Varca, I did not see you here.”

“Reva.” Varca said. “You seek my son?”

“Yes, we are playing Hunter and the Fox. I’ve caught everyone, save Tol.” She shook the mud from her skirt.

“I have not seen him.” Varca said.

“Oh.” The girl’s face fell. “If you see him, tell him the game is over, and to meet me by the stream that runs into the marsh. Please.”

Varca nodded. “Doubtless you will see him first, but I will pass the word. Good hunting.” The girl skipped away between the thatched huts, and a moment later the small round face of his son emerged from beneath the cart.

“Thank you, father.”

“Varca.”

“Red Lord.” Varca did not return the speaker’s bow as he leaned on the shaft of his great, feathered warspear.

“Your boy has a quick mind. You would do well to send him south to Londoninium, where he might learn to read, write and other tongues.”

“He needs none of these things here, and he will take up my shield and my place after me. He does not need your books and tongues.”

“I see.” The man’s face hardened. “He is welcome at the fort, nonetheless, if he wishes to come again. As are you. There is no need for ill will between us.”

“There was no need for your warriors to lay their hands upon the daughters of the Iceni queen, or to set fire to my father’s hall. Now, there is no need, perhaps, for ill will, but I do not forget, Titus Aemilianus, Centurion of the Fourth Gallic Auxiliares.”

“There was likewise no need for the hewing of the bodies of the Ninth even as they lay dead upon Iceni crosses.” the Centurion said. “There are many ills in this world, and Rome did not beget them all. And in the wake of Rome comes learning and peace.”

“If the price of peace and books is every third son of a tribe, then I will have none of it.” Varca said. “Safe travels, Red Lord.”

“Father?”

“Yes, my son?” Varca said.

“How many hides of land will I hold when I am grown?”

“Why do you ask? Looking forward to my absence, are you?” said Varca, thumbing the fletching of a single barbed arrow.

“No, but Reva and I spoke today, and…”

Varca smiled. “I see. Never fear. You will have enough and more for the both of you, and the bairns that come after.”

“Thank you, Father!” the boy beamed. He began to fidget. Smiling, Varca put aside his arrow, and went out to speak with Reva’s father.

“You bring many warriors for a visit to one with whom you spoke of peace.” Varca said.

“The Eagles move north. A road will be built here soon. And then will come the Evocati from the legions, warriors whose fighting days are done, to build themselves a home about the fort.” The Centurion’s face was stern.

“Why have you come?” asked Varca.

“To give warning. There will be many, perhaps two thousands at first. The marsh will be drained, and then the foundations laid.”

“My people hunt often in the marsh. The stream that runs thither bathes us, and gives us drink.” Varca said.

“I will miss the hunting also. That is why I came to warn you.”

“Why?”

“Because I know that Varca One-Eye of the Brigantes, Warrior of the Blue Shield, will be loath to see a Roman city upon his doorstep, a city that will one day grow to encompass his village.”

“And what would you have of Varca One-Eye?”

“Peace.” The Centurion bowed his head, the dyed horse hair of his crested helm swaying. “I would have peace.”

“And you will have it- with the young. But the old, our roots go deep.”

“So be it. I am sorry, Varca.”

“As am I, Titus.”

“Father, I beg of you! Do not do this thing.”

“Those who will follow you have leave to go. Those who do not shall come with me to the Otherworld.”

“But why?” His son’s voice was pleading. “For what?”

“I have lost father, mother, brother and now, home to Rome’s grasping hand. I will not live to see my son be taken also.” Varca tightened a bracer on his arm, and grasped the smooth haft of his tall, sharp spear.

“I will not be taken! I say only that we live, and change. You have not seen the high walls of the Eternal City as I have, or the wealth of knowledge stored therein.”

“And in your travels did you also see the bodies on the crosses along the roads, whose builders you heap with praise? The fields left empty, the huts burned, the fathers and brothers and sons marching away to never return to their families?” Varca shook his head. “No, Tolvel, you have not. But you will. I made a promise once, when you were young, not to let Rome take you whilst I yet lived. So now I must go, to keep that promise.”

There was a pause that was so still Varca heard the hushed whispers of the warriors beyond his hall, through even the cold shield of his helm and the thick walls of wood hewn with his own hands. Then Tolvel straightened, and looked his father in the eye.

“You will lose. You will lose, and you know it. But what if there was another way?”

“What way is that?”

“We go north, beyond the reach of Rome.”

“You would send me away then, ashamed of your old father in front of your fine friends but loath to see him die in peace?”

“I would come with you.” Tolvel said quietly.

“The Picts would slay any who professed themselves a student of Rome.” Varca said. “Would you leave Rome behind then too?”

“Yes. Reva does not like it in the south.”

“If you come, then I will turn aside.”

“So be it.”

Varca laid down his spear, and he heard the clatter of the warriors doing the same.

#Rome #ancient celts #britons #original work #kinda sorta Rosemary Sutcliff inspired #probably no one will read this but whatever #wrote this for a class and had too much fun #my writing #historical fiction

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special-agent-fiction · 6 years

Text

The Promise - Chapter 10

Pairing: Reader x Thorin Oakenshield (Slow Burn aka Friends First)

Summary: Taken in by the Durin’s when she was a child, Eleonóra has lived through it all; the glory of Erebor, Smaug, the journey to Erid Luin and now a Quest to reclaim the hallowed halls stolen from them so many years ago. With a promise to a dying princess to fulfill she will do anything to keep her boys, all of them, safe from whatever lies ahead on the road to their lost homeland.

Warnings: None.

Chapter 10 - Reflections

The sun was still low in the sky as the front door of a small but treasured home opened and a bleary-eyed dwarf flinched at the creak he had never been able to get rid of as the hinge stretched to 90°. He stared out across the still sleeping village they had called home for some years now and let a deep inhale fill his lungs with the bone cold chill of dawn air.

Behind him, inside the house, a pair of footsteps were wandering around checking the contents of their kitchen cupboards and the amount of firewood they had left before pausing and letting the silence of the house fall over them again.

He’d already secured their packs to the saddles of two ponies he’d spent the last week sourcing and all that was left to do was mount them and they’d be off. He didn’t press her though, knew that she needed the next few minutes to talk herself into walking out through this door and not just lock it and go back to bed; back to the life they’d lived for so long. So he simply stood and watched the pair of ponies softly kick their hooves and let their shaggy manes be tousled by the wind.

“Beautiful creatures.” He almost jumped at the proximity of her voice now and turned his head slightly to meet her eyes as she too watched the creatures. “Vanners?”

“Aye.” It had been a pain to find them, but it was going to be a long journey and he knew how much she admired the beasts with their flowing hair and feathering around their ankles. “Are you ready?” He asked, trying not to push her but his eyes kept flicking to the horizon and the hours they’d be losing if they didn’t leave soon.

“Perhaps I should stay with them.” She mumbled, her eyes still on the ponies. “Perhaps this is a mistake.”

“You’ve spent a year writing back and forth with the Dwarf Lords; to not turn up now would be-”

“Rude.” She sighed, finishing for him. “I know.” He felt her fingers curl into his palm as she silently made her decision. “They are grown.” She said aloud as if trying to remind herself of that fact. “They are adults.”

“You clearly didn’t just see Kili fall out of bed.” He felt the corners of his lips prick up at the new voice behind him and the mass of blonde hair that swept past him as she twirled to face two even sleepier dwarves, still in their nightclothes with small smiles on their faces. “Didn’t really think we’d let you go without a proper goodbye, did you?” Fili asked as Kili rubbed at his eyes. Grown men indeed.

“You should be in bed.” Ellie told them, her attempt at a scold pointless when paired with her loving smile. “You both have work today.”

“We can man the forge with our eyes closed.” Kili mumbled, a dopey smile now on his features. “Don’t worry about us.”

Ellie laughed lightly. “I will spend my life worrying about you two.” She stepped forward and pressed a kiss to each of their brows and Thorin found himself wondering exactly when his boy nephews had grown as tall as him. “Thank you for coming down.”

“Safe travels.” Fili said mirroring her actions and pressing his lips to her own brow.

“Don’t fret about us.” Kili grinned also kissing her. “We are perfectly capable of putting out any and all fires that we accidently set.”

“Ki-” Thorin stepped in and took her by the shoulders, cutting her off as he steered her back to the door and shot his youngest nephew a classic Durin scowl of non-amusement at his poor joke.

“Write when you get there!” Fili called out as Ellie planted her right foot into a stirrup and Thorin grasped his nephew’s forearms in farewell. “We’ll be fine!” He assured her, and the three men watched as she pulled herself into the saddle, the side splits of her longline tunic parting to reveal her riding breeches and boots, and the wind ruffling her hair to reveal the woman that had traversed mountain passes on foot in the search for a new home for her folk.

Thorin felt the hand on his wrist tighten and pull him from the sight of her; the woman who had saved his people, saved his kin and raised his heirs. “Look after her.”

He met Kili’s eyes with a raised brow and let out a soft laugh. “If you think your aunt needs anyone to look after her, you’re sorely wrong my boy.” He released his nephew with a knowing smile. “Besides, I’ve watched her back since before you were born.” He crossed to the horse and mounted with ease. “And she mine.”

Seeing them before they left had seemed to do the job and they were out of the town and into the open grasslands of Middle Earth without even a glance back, though he knew for a fact that both of his nephews would be stood on their doorstep watching them until they had vanished for sight. The though made him smile deeply.

If there was one thing he treasured more than anything else, it was the relationship between his heirs and the woman who had raised them. His mind skipped back through the years and he let himself settle into the saddle with memories of red faces on everyone as one of them slipped up and called Ellie ‘amad��. She had simply smiled sadly at them and carried on with whatever she was doing and that was why he adored her; she had never tried to take Dis’ place. Both Fili and Kili had grown up with a sketch of their mother at their bedsides and the knowledge of who she was how she loved them so in their hearts.

He knew this was hard on her; it was the first time since Dis had died that she’d been separated from them and it must be tearing at her as it had torn at him those handful of years ago when he had first returned to Erid Luin. He had spent the whole journey wondering what they were doing and if they had enough firewood as the snows came in. His family were everything to him and that’s exactly why he’d brought her with him this time.

It had been a lifetime since she had left the mountain range and after so long spent moulding two boys into men, she deserved a break; deserved to have something more in her life now they were grown. And so he hadn’t hesitated when, on his last visit, her name had been brought up as well as her family knowledge of dealing with rare gems and a request had been penned for her to visit Erid Luin and cast her eye over a batch of emeralds of questionable origin.

They were making good time now, he realised as he shook himself from his thoughts and scanned the environment around them. He anticipated that only one-night need be spent under the stars and they’d reach the mountains with the sun still high.

Glancing over to her he saw that she too seemed to be lost in her mind and wondered what she was reliving; the trek to the mountains when they were exhausted and on foot after the journey from Moria, or the rickety wagon ride back down these paths as they escaped the ghosts of their past?

The ride into Erid Luin had been as heart wrenching as she’d expected it would be. Nothing had changed, not really. There were a few faces she couldn’t place a fresh coat of paint on some doors but otherwise, it was the same.

When they had entered the mountain metropolis, barely any dwarf had noticed their presence and that fleeting moment of nothingness had given her enough time to glance to Thorin and allow his soft, worry-filled smile to settle her. A quick, almost imperceptible nod of her head to tell him she was fine had been the kindling to the fire that was recognition in these halls.

A heartbeat later and crowds had formed around their steeds with people calling out for their King and trying to shuffle into lines to allow them through. She watched Thorin from the corner of her eye and felt a real smile grace her lips as he changed before her; gone was the man worried over how she would handle returning here, the man who she knew hadn’t let his eyes close for their longed-for rest last night until she herself had settled and in his place, was a King.

Back straight and a benevolent smile on his face, Thorin pushed his horse forwards and soon they were slowly winding their way through the mountain, side-by-side, with their people calling out for them. And in that moment, she knew Thorin had been right to tell her to come; to tell her that this was as much her duty as two Dwarven Princes were. He knew that that one word was enough to get her involved; duty.

In Erebor it had been her duty to keep Dis out of trouble and then it had been her duty to keep the family business running. Her entire life had revolved around duty; to her family, to the people of Erebor…to Thorin. And now her duty was to herself; to forge a place for herself here in this community she had abandoned in her grief.

They had managed without them; the bustling markets and boom in numbers was evidence enough of that but they were entering a new age now; one of actual prosperity as they not only survived but thrived. The people of Erebor in the halls of Erid Luin were talked about through the land; their craftsmanship unparalleled and their story of triumph beguiling. But prosperity meant that things needed to be dealt with. More trade meant better deals were needed and better deals required someone with actual experience of governance.

She and Thorin had learnt together all those years ago when worries of his grandfather had been his every other thought and now they were to put their knowledge gained in the library of Erebor to actual use. Thorin would deal with ruling his people; making decisions about new laws and planning the future of this community and she would negotiate trade deals. It was a role she was born to do as she’d proved in her letters to the other Dwarf Lords of Erid Luin and now she was ready to see all she had written put into practice.

They reached the end of the Erebor settlement with relative ease and as they waited at the cavernous doors to the epicentre of the Blue Mountains she knew this was exactly what Mahal had planned for them both; a trial of strength followed by an age of peace. It was what the people deserved. It was what they deserved.

“No, I’m sorry but that is completely unacceptable! As requests go this is by far the most ridiculous and I for one-”

Ellie stifled a yawn as she tuned out the ranting Dwarf stood opposite her and instead let herself relax into the padding of the high-backed chair she’d commandeered the first day she’d been led to this council chamber. This room, much like the rest of this part of the Blue Mountains was carved entirely from the crystal core that the rocky landscape had formed around. From the hallways to the bedrooms to the kitchens, every room emitted a mystical light blue glow from the rock-hard walls and floors and despite the beauty of it all, she found the cold surface to be an excellent indicator of the type of people who dwelled in the heart of this mountain range.

The Dwarf Lords had declared this area of outstanding beauty and craftmanship their home almost immediately after first settling here and carving it out. The onyx black doors that separated it from either end of the range had promptly been erected and to this day, sealed off these crystal corridors from the rest of the Dwarves in Erid Luin.

Ellie wondered if that was half the reason they seemed so unaware of what the people around them actually needed from rulers. She eyed the platter of food that had sat primly in the centre of the round table that filled the room distastefully as she recalled how every time they adjourned it would be removed and wasted after being picked and sniffed at by haughty Dwarves.

She was tired of the ones surrounding her at present. Tired of them always arguing with her and dismissing her opinions and beliefs on the grounds that she was a woman.

“And another thing; should someone who lost their treasure the last time around really be negotiating to build up another reserve? I mean, it is one thing for a deposed King to seek a fortune, but a woman with no actual ties to the throne?” He scoffed. “I think we can all agree that-”

“I tire of your tirade…my Lord.” She said, hands clasped in front of her as her elbows rested on the chair arms and fought a grin at the affronted huff he gave at the pause in addressing him by title (she was going to get in all the kicks she could, even if they were thinly veiled and childish). “And I would remind you that I did not come here for your opinion on whether or not I am a suitable representative of my people, that is for my King to decide, not you.”

The old man simply stared at her, eyeing her relaxed pose with disdain and she felt the corners of her lips try and pull into a smile as he again let his gaze wander over her outfit. She had elected to wear the exact opposite of what they’d been expecting of her and knew that the fur trimmed duster jacket she wore over a Durin blue shirt and skin-tight breeches tucked into boots was more than off-putting for the stuck-in-their-ways men.

“Now…” She unclasped her hands and gestured to the open pad in front of her. “…would you care to answer the question I actually asked? Or would you prefer to waste another hour of our precious time?”

“I…”

“I’ll remind you.” She pushed a single sheet of paper forward. “My people want mining rights; will you grant them?”

“The people of Erebor have never been denied the opportunity to work in the mountain’s many mines.” A different man piped up, the half-moon glasses that had sat on his nose for the duration of the meeting, as he read through the various pieces of paper in front of him, now in his hand as he met her gaze. “Mining rights are a…” He waved the glasses around as he tried to think of way of phrasing it. “…non-topic.”

She forced a sweet smile. “I disagree, my Lord.” She slid forward to perch on the edge of her seat. “My people were promised a replica of their homeland when they settled here. Working for people who don’t understand their traditions and methods is not a replica.”

“You mean working for people who were granted these prosperous mines by Mahal himself is no longer enough for wandering Dwarves who were generously gifted land by the very men you now condemn?”

“I think, Sir, that you are not so much affronted by the fact that I am asking for rights, as you are by the fact that the Lords above you; those who meet with my King and not a lowly Ambassador, elected to grant land against your advice?”

The room fell silent at her words and she took the opportunity to slide another sheet forward into the dead centre of the table.

“A copy…” She told them. “…of the land agreement written when my people arrived. It clearly states that we are entitled to bring matters such as this to the councils for debate.” She met each of their gazes. “I have another question for you all.” She slid back and let her palms meet again. “How much did goods from the Blue Mountains sell for before the Erebor settlement?”

“An impossible figure to calculate.” The Lord opposite her sniffed, his derision rolling off him in waves.

“I’ll simplify it then.” She smiled. “Did they retail for more or less before the Erebor settlement? Before the quality of the work increased tenfold?” She paused to allow one of them to answer and felt her smile deepen at their uncomfortable shifting. “And if I now inform you that my incredibly talented people are more than happy to suspend work for…fifty years? That would cripple you.”

“They can’t suspend working!” One dwarf exclaimed as she sat back and let them explode around her with various cries of; “Who do you think you are?!” and “Throw them all out!” filled the air.

“If they don’t work their own families will starve.” Her main opposition said, his calm tone cutting through the room like a knife. All eyes were back on her.

“My people were desperate but not stupid when we accepted your gift.” She told them. “All these years of buying cheap metal and ore from mines who deemed them worthless has led to a substantial stockpile. We have gold. We have gems. It’s the stuff you were willing to throw away. My people can survive for quite some time just by taking their coppers down into the realms of Men…can yours?”

Thorin hated the politics of ruling. Hated how he had to explain every little motivation he had for trying to help his people continue to thrive to a room full of people who had never even seen a mountain mine.

He wondered how Balin had kept a cool head all these years and had not simply told the Dwarf Lords to imrid amrâd ursul? The older man was infinitely better at this than he and was probably the only reason they’d actually achieved anything since he arrived.

He thought back to his most recent meeting and grimaced slightly at the turn it had taken. He and Ellie had discussed at length what their priorities were for this first diplomatic event between them and the other Lords and mining rights had been prominent in their minds even before meeting with Balin and the man detailed the conditions their people were working in under the unexperienced eyes of Erid Luin Dwarves.

“And when was the last time you were down a mineshaft, Your Grace?” Thorin felt himself bristle at the sneering tone of the man in front of him and channelled every calming influence he could to avoid reaching across and driving his face into the table surface.

“Two days ago.” He said, watching smugly as the eyes in the room widened slightly. “Lady Eleonóra and I ventured down one of your own actually, my Lord.” He flashed him a smile. “And were shocked by what we found.”

“Who gave you permission to-”

“As a Dwarf Lord and King of a territory within this range, I think you’ll find I’m free to inspect anything I think may be endangering lives…which you are by the way.”

“I-”

“And so I put to you; when was the last time you were at the rock face and not sat here filling your own?”

Yes, Balin had definitely had to smooth a few ruffled feathers after that one. But it seemed to have worked and new regulations for mine owners was being drafted at this very moment. All he needed now was for Ellie to waltz through the door with an agreement for their people to own and run their own mines and a large chunk of what they’d set out to achieve would be done.

His lips stretched into a smile as at that very moment the doors to the suite of rooms he’d been allocated, burst open and frightened half to death the group of Ambassadors Balin had elected through the years.

“And?” He drawled, craning his neck to watch her sashay in, a very smug grin firmly on her lips.

“The paperwork will be delivered to you before tomorrows feast.” She told him, laughing at the cheers the rest of her colleagues let out from their scattered positions through the sitting room.

“A fine job, lass.” Balin grinned from the seat next to him. “Not that I ever doubted you.” He added, a twinkle in his eye as she wandered over to them and sunk beside him onto the settee.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Balin. Smart move hoarding all that gold.”

“They’ve refused to even meet with us for an entire year on the matter and you settle it in three days?” A dwarf on the other side of the room commented as all eyes remained on the trio in the centre of the room. “You must have magical powers.” He added, impressed. “The Dwarf Lords will be offering us diamonds to have you on their side.”

Ellie laughed before batting her eyelashes at Thorin. “My beloved King would never sell me.”

He hummed his agreement as he signed his name to the document in his hands. “Not for a few measly diamonds anyway.”

There was a beat of silence and he knew the dwarves around them had stopped all their actions to wait and see her reaction. Convention states that she should bow her head and realise her place beside a King, but they were much more than King and subject and-

“Rukhs shirumundu.”

“Namin men burk.”

She winked at him. “Yamal.” And he wondered if she knew the effect she still had on him? Wondered if she knew just how much his pulse quickened at the sight of her? Wondered when he would work up the nerve to ask her such things?

He had spent the day alternating between reading over the agreement Ellie had finished hashing out this very morn and pacing through his rooms. He’d dismissed the rest of his Ambassadors a few hours earlier under the pretence of readying themselves for the feast being thrown in his honour.

He didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to make the journey to the ballroom full of people who thought themselves more important that anyone else. Didn’t want to be a part of the whole damn thing.

Pacing had resumed quickly after he’d dressed in the fine robes the Lords had gifted him for this very event and he’d paid little attention to what had been laid out for him but now, after his gaze had been snagged by the long length mirror in his bedchamber he could scarcely identify the man who was staring back at him.

It was not someone he’d seen for a long time. A lifetime, even.

The Durin blue was the only familiar thing about his reflection; the colour having played a prominent role in his life even after Erebor. He often wore a shirt of this colour to work and it was dotted through their home back in the lands of Men, with both Kili and Fili decked in this shade for anything remotely important as a reminder of who they were and where they came from. He’d even been wearing it here, the colour infinitely warmer than the cool blue the mountain heart was carved of and he found comfort in seeing it on all his Ambassadors though their jerkins and jackets and shirts.

So it was not the richness of the colour that startled him. Nor how calm his hair looked; the twin beads he wore either side of his face another common thing in his daily attire as well as the neatly trimmed beard. He fingered the beads lightly; their presence another reminder of home as he thought of the brothers they’d left there both wearing identical copies of the silver stamped ‘D’ through their own unkempt hair.

Even his robes were comforting. They were a familiar style to those he had worn in Erebor and he was not unfamiliar with the close fit of his doublet and soft fur trim on his jacket.

Individually, each component was simple; pieces that he knew and identified easily. But together? He could still feel the momentary stop of his heart as he’d caught a glimpse of a path his life may once have taken. He saw a King.

The creaking of a door caught his attention and he turned to face it. He felt his mouth dry at the sight that stepped though it and found himself mentally reminding his lungs to inhale and exhale and not just lie dormant.

“I still think improvements can be made.” He glanced to the paper in her hands and chuckled softly at her furrowed brow as she re-read the agreement.

“You just want to take all you can from them because they said you weren’t good enough.”

She sighed and dropped her hands, the paper brushing against her skirts. “Is that petty of me?”

“Incredibly.” She rolled her eyes at him and set the sheet down before crossing the living space to linger in the doorway of his bedchamber.

“What’s the matter with you?” She asked, eyeing his position at the mirror. “Can’t get you hair right?” She teased. “Or is it too perfect and you’re worried they’ll think you care about tonight?”

“I always air on the side of perfect.” He shrugged, trying to stop his eyes from roaming over her. He was failing.

He’d seen her in dresses many times before. In Erebor she’d always been in one and she’d worn them here and in the town too. But tonight was different. Tonight, she was as she’d never been before.

The blue, while identical to his own in shade, was riddled with silver thread which shone with every step she took as she moved from the doorway, reminding him of the paths shooting stars left behind as they raced overhead. It was simple, and he loved her for it; the silhouette was standard and though she showed no skin below her collarbone, she was a vision and more tempting than if she’d stood before him in nothing but a wisp of tulle.

“You’re beautiful.” He managed to say and felt a rush of pride at the light blush that spotted on her cheeks as she smoothed out the material fanning at her waist.

“I’d forgotten how talented maids are.” She said, stepping closer to him. “The things they can do with a brush of powder and a handful of pins puts me to shame.”

“No.” He reached out and took one of her hands in his own, tugging her closer to him and preventing her from prodding at the coiled bun resting low on the back of her neck. “You always look beautiful.”

“Thorin-”

“For the first time since Smaug attacked we are truly alone.” He told her, gesturing around them. “Our people are safe, Dis is gone and the boys are grown.”

“Why are you saying this?”

“I’ve never had the chance to thank you.” He told her. “Not for everything you’ve done since Smaug but…before…with my grandfather and-”

“Thorin you don’t-”

He held up a hand to silence her and smiled softly at the power that one gesture seemed to have over her. perhaps he looked more of a King than he’d realised. “Thank you isn’t the only thing I’ve neglected to say.” He told her, his thumb brushing over the jewelled rings that had been slid onto her fingers by her maids. “Ellie, I…I…” He dropped her hand and cursed lightly under his breath. “In Erebor you were the only one who ever treated me like a person, not a Prince. And you gave so much of yourself so willingly to anyone who asked. You pulled my sister from her shell, made my father laugh, taught my brother a few hard lessons in the training yard and…you were there for me when I tried to shoulder a realm on my own.” He met her searching eyes. “Is it any wonder that you were the only girl to hold my heart?”

“Thorin…”

“But you’re a woman now and my family had asked so much more of you that I would not begrudge you if you didn’t feel the same, but I need to know; I have to know if you-”

He hadn’t felt her hand bunch in his jacket. Hadn’t seen her step closer. Hadn’t realised her intentions of shutting his babbling up. But he felt her lips on his and let a soft exhale of relief out through his nose as one hand gripped at her waist and pulled her closer as the other cupped her jaw softly; their mouths hungry for lost years and dampened feelings.

As they broke apart for air he felt a true smile of sheer happiness settle on his lips as they simply stared at each other.

“Varak, demup vel rumush kardun.” She breathed. “Men kemgu dolzekh menu, Thanu men.”

Thorin smiled down at her, the Khuzdul flowing effortlessly off her lips and into his heart as his eyes were once again caught by the mirror. It again showed him something he was shocked to find; a man with lightness in his heart and his love in his hold.

He saw a King and Queen.

Khuzdul to English Translations:

Imrid amrâd ursul – die a death of flames (basically; burn in hell)

Rukhs shirumundu – beardless orc

Namin men burk – kiss my axe

Yamal – with pleasure

Varak, demup vel rumush kardun – loyalty, honour and a willing heart

Men kemgu dolzekh menu, Thanu men – I accept your thanks, my King

External Links:

Dress inspiration: here and here (both from Ziad Nakad’s 2017 A/W collection)

Tag List (feel free to request a tag):

@evyiione

And a huge thank you to both @evyiione and @pixierox101 for their kind words and enthusiastic feedback the likes of which I have never experienced.

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