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httpiastri · 3 months

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snowy mountains & hot baths – op81

you, oscar, and an empty spa can only lead to one thing.

genre: very short smut 😶

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: uhhh public sex.... unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it yall!!

author's note: happy valentines day :) wish i had oscar here to celebrate with me... anyway. idk about this one guys 🫠🫠 started out alright but then i hated half of it so i deleted it and rewrote it but it just got worse. and i know that if i don't just post it rn, i will likely procrastinate and never end up posting it at all. yay. hope u enjoy anyway! i also have another oscar fic done that's at least a bit better than this lol.

f1 masterlist

18+ content below, minors do not interact!

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a low groan leaves oscar's lips when he dips his feet in the warm water. he instantly turns around, eyes finding you standing by the door you've just walked through to get to this outdoor area of the spa. he holds his hand out towards you, beckoning for you to step closer.

"it feels so good," he promises, gaze following your every move as you let your robe slide down your arms. his eyes widen when you reveal your newly bought bikini – papaya orange, of course – and a shudder passes through his body at the sight of the tiny material trying it's best to cover you up.

he thanks all the gods he can think of that there's no one else around.

goosebumps grow across your skin now that you're exposed to the sub-zero temperatures, toes curling in the short layer of snow on the deck. you stroll over to him, making sure to let your hips sway a little extra with every step because you know he's watching and you know what he's thinking. the sight of him gulping as his eyes wander up and down your body can only mean one thing.

taking his hand in yours, you let him pull you into the water with him, letting out a content sound when the water envelops your legs and brings the temperature of your body up again. oscar gives your hand a squeeze and leans back, his back hitting the water as he submerged into it. you dive in right after him, making a few strokes beneath the surface before coming up for air again. your hands come up to wipe away the water from your face, before brushing over your hair and tying it up in a messy bun on top of your head.

"this is just what i needed," your boyfriend says, drawing out an agreeing hum from you. it's been a long day – a long week, really – filled to the brim with skiing, hot chocolate drinking, skiing, cable car-rides, and then more skiing. oscar doesn't usually get a lot of time off work, and when he does, he wants to make the most of it. and as his partner, he thinks you should be doing the same, and that's why he's woken you up in the early hours every morning this last week, practically bouncing from how much he aches to go out in the swiss alps yet again.

the hot tub is big enough to swim around in, but oscar makes his way to the side and sits down on the built-in seat, arms stretching out and resting on the edge of the pool. you swim over to him, easily slipping onto his lap and letting your hands rest on his shoulders. oscar tenses up when you sit on him, and you're not surprised by the length already poking up at you – he's just a man, after all – but you decide not to do anything to acknowledge it just yet.

"it's really beautiful here, don't you think?" you ask, looking to your side. the sun has only just set, so the little village isn't completely dark yet. the moon above your heads casts a soft hue over the mountains you've spent all week conquering, stars twinkling among the tops.

"not as beautiful as you, though." there's barely any lightning out here other than the little candles scattered across the floor, but you see the fire in oscar's gaze clearly when you look back at him. he's staring at you like you're the most perfect work of art, the most beautiful thing to ever exist – and your expression matches his, because he truly is your favorite thing to look at in the world. your heart flutters at the contrast between how cute he looks with a few locks of his long fringe curling along his forehead, and how incredibly sexy his body looks with the little droplets of water decorating his muscular chest. he's just stunning.

"you really did a great job with planning and booking all of this, you know," you start. "i may have complained quite a bit when you dragged me out of bed at six am, but... it's all been perfect."

your hands find the space just below his jaw, and it takes all of your strength not to blatantly stare at his thick neck when you feel the muscles under your touch.

"well, perfect except for the fact that my legs are so sore right now."

oscar chuckles at this confession, hands leaving the edge of the pool and dipping into the water instead. "let me help you out with that, then..."

a jolt of electricity shoots down your spine when his palms meet your bare thighs, fingers pressing into the skin and stroking you softly. your eyes flutter closed, loving every second of his massage and growing hotter when his hands make their way further and further up. it doesn't take long before oscar can't hold back anymore, reaching up to press his lips against yours.

you sigh into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself further towards him, your crotch brushing against his as a result. the moan he lets out is so hot that you instinctively begin grinding down against him, wanting to hear more.

oscar gets the hint, but finds himself reaching for your shoulders, holding you back as he leans out of the kiss. your lips chase after him, a frown taking over your face when he doesn't give in. you open your eyes to look at him.

"are you sure... that you want to..." oscar's voice is low but genuine; he knows you aren't a fan of exhibitionism, and that these situations usually only make you uncomfortable.

but the look in your eyes is impossible to misinterpret. "there's no one around..."

he looks around the area once more just to make sure. choosing to go to the spa at 8pm, the exact time when the restaurant at the hotel was the most crowded, was oscar's best idea yet.

he doesn't say anything else. he just grabs the back of your neck, pushing you down to his lips yet again. it's more rushed now, messy kisses pressed against your lips and his tongue swiping across your bottom lip hastily. his other hand caresses all the way down your back, gives your butt a quick squeeze, and then moves to your front instead. his fingers trace the edge of your bikini before dipping inside of it, finding your clit with ease.

your upper body is completely leaning onto him by now, little sounds slipping past your lips as he starts drawing circles onto your already sensitive bud. in no time, he's slipped past your clit, one finger sliding into your core and pumping you a couple of times before being joined by another finger. you can't help but clench around him, exhaling into the kiss.

"please, oscar..." you whine against his lips, and oscar nods, pulling out of you and breaking the kiss. he holds your hips away a little to make space for his hand undoing the knot that holds up his swim trunks, before pulling his dick out of them. he lifts you up, fingers pushing your bikini bottoms to the side but pausing when his tip meets your core. he waits for your nod of consent before finally entering you.

the water helps him glide into you, a throaty moan rumbling from his throat when he bottoms you out. he doesn't give you even a second to adjust, hands on your hips pulling you up before sinking you onto him again.

"fuck," he lets out, throwing his head back when you start to roll your hips against his. "you feel so good..."

you lean forward, forehead resting on the bend of his neck as you bounce up and down on him. your hands move to the back of his head, fingers getting lost in his locks, and it doesn't take long before your movements get sloppier. you gasp when oscar begins thrusting up into you, meeting your downward movements in a steady rhythm.

his grip on your hips grows firmer, rough fingers pressing into your skin and surely leaving marks for tomorrow. he's getting closer, too – you can tell by the string of moans he's letting out in between a bunch of swearwords – and you use your last bit of energy to pick up your pace and help him out. your walls contract around him when you come, and you feel him reach his own high not long after, twitching and shooting into you as you ride out your orgasms.

his hands are more gentle now, brushing up and down your back and following the bumps of your spine. when you finally gain the energy to speak, your words vibrate against his skin. "well, we're never coming back to this spa again." you lean back slightly, looking up at him for the first time in a while. "or the town, for that matter."

his blissed-out eyes meet yours, soft and glossy as he raises his eyebrows. "why's that?"

his flushed cheeks make him look so innocent, but his heaving chest tells another story. "did you not see the cameras?" you question.

"oh, you think we're the first ones to do this here?" you gasp at his wording, splashing some water his way. he laughs. "what, do you really? i reckon this happens here at least once every day. maybe even more."

"oscar!"

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lol-im-done · 5 months

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First Lady of Panem

Pairing: Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: When your family arrived to the Capitol from District Ten to secure their place as one of the most prominent and wealthy families of Panem you could have never dreamed fate would lead you into the arms of Coriolanus Snow. Falling in love was easy, watching him become President and becoming First Lady of Panem at his side would test your limits. Panem's history would forever be changed by this union.

AO3 Link

Author's Note: TW & Tags will be updated as each chapter comes out, first chapter is just to set up the story & characters. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Sky Blue Eyes

Those bluebonnets how sweetly they grow

For all the wide prairies they're scattered like snow

They make all the meadows as blue as the skies

Reminding me of my darlings blue eyes

The cow-filled prairies shifted to mountains signaling the train's entrance into District Two as you hummed to the tune of an old song from before Panem’s creation. The sprawling grass sea of District Ten, of your home, disappeared in the distance as you made your way to the heart of Panem.

“Darling, are you listening to me?”

Lifting your head from the rattling window you turned to see your mother looking at you with soft concern.

“Sorry Mama, what were you asking?”

Her hand smoothed over your younger sister Mellona’s curls, making her nuzzle deeper into her side. “I was asking if you were hungry so I could order lunch.”

“That would be nice Mama. Thank you.”

“Alright, call for Agnes if you need anything she’s in the next car,” your mother stands, lays a snoozing Mellona down, before making her way to the dining car.

“Homesick already?” Victoriosa, the eldest, asks from the chaise never taking her eyes off the magazine in her hands.

“Is it that obvious?”

“We always knew we’d have to move to the Capitol.”

“Why now? I thought at least another year or two,” you asked, sinking into the plush leather seat. Victoriosa pauses, looks up at you and for an instant you can see your father’s intense expression staring back at you.

“Papa wants to finally establish himself as a prominent figure in the Capitol. He needs Capitol support if he is to fully absorb the rest of the ranches, you know that,” she states. “This is also our opportunity to reach our full potential, choose our own paths. Once you finish your career you can always return to Ten if you wish but that would be a waste,” she returns to flipping through her magazine.

“Silva, what do you think?” you turn to your only brother who is seated next to you.

He gives a short shrug. “I don’t mind it much as long as I can continue my research,” Silva sighs from behind his thick textbook.

Victoriosa tilts her lithe neck backwards, “Yawnnnnn.” A snort leaves your lips and you’re grateful your mother isn’t nearby to reprimand you for your ‘unladylike’ behavior.

“Biodiversity is the pinnacle of our success as cattle breeders!” Silva scowls.

“I thought you’d be missing a certain milkmaid Carpathia,” Victoriosa smirks and a wild blush spreads under Silva’s glasses.

“Oh like you’ll be missing your ranch hand Bronco,” Silva snaps back.

“There’s always summertime. Plenty of time to catch up,” Victoriosa grins like the cat who got the cream. The three of you burst into a fit of giggles right as Mellona groggily rouses from her nap.

“Are we there yet?”

Another burst of laughter fills the private train car.

It would only take a few more hours before you arrived at the Capitol train station, nightfall falling over the city. Unlike District Ten, not all the stars were visible, the Capitol’s bright lights polluting the sky. Peacekeepers were already stationed to help move all the luggage into the waiting line of cars. Driving through the streets towards your new home, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the statues in the squares and the towering buildings. Most of all you were excited to finally see your father, it had been almost a month since you had seen him last.

“Papa!”

All of you crashed into Alicio Lupus’ awaiting arms, his rumbling chuckle bouncing off the high marble ceilings of the penthouse. Refugio joins in on the hug with teary eyes, reaching up to press a kiss on her beloved husband’s cheek.

“Welcome home my darlings,” he squeezes you all tighter. Any fear you held disappeared in an instant, as long as you had your family by your side, all would be well.

The first few weeks in the Capitol had been a whirlwind- meeting other Capitol families for dinner, registration for coveted internships and school courses, and endless shopping trips to assure your home and wardrobes were up to Capitol standards. Refugio Lupus wanted only the best for her children, which included constantly coaching you all to leave behind the District Ten accent that made certain words in your vocabulary drawl.

After dinner one day you thought you had finally caught a moment of peace before a knock at your door startled you from your book. Agnes, your family's nanny, rolled in a rack of dresses with Victoriosa in tow. Victoriosa was already dressed in a sleek blood red dress with a mink shawl wrapped around her shoulders.

“What’s all this?”

“We’ve been invited to a soirée to commemorate the end of the 13th Hunger Games. Papa thinks it’s a good chance to introduce us to others in the Capitol’s high society,” Victoriosa swept her arm towards the rack of glittering and ruffled dresses. Nerves made your stomach churn, mouth turning downwards into a frown as you remembered people’s faces this past week when it was revealed you had recently arrived from District Ten. Most look startled before looking at you like you were some exotic bird at the zoo.

“They’ll never accept us.”

A prideful look crossed her face, so similar to your father’s. No wonder your mother said they were cut from the same stone. “They will once we show them we are as refined as they are. As long as you lose that accent of yours you’ll blend in like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” she grinned, canines glinting in the light of the chandelier. Rolling your eyes you step over to the rack, feeling the fabrics under your fingers. Stopping at a silver dress, the sequins twinkled like stars entrancing you. Agnes helped dress you before getting to work on sweeping your hair up into a fashionable updo. You waved away the highly pigmented makeup, not ready to delve into that side of Capitol fashion quite yet.

“Remember you’re a Lupus. We’re wolves among sheep,” Victoriosa pinches your cheek. The usual calluses that adorned her hands were gone, chemical treatments making them a long forgotten memory.

Wolves among sheep.

Victoriosa’s words replay through your head like a mantra as you step into the grand ballroom behind her and your father. Thankfully your sister was a gifted extrovert, introducing you to the friends she had already made. Soon you found yourself surrounded by members of the new Gamemaker class, a glass of posca in your hand. It took some time but slowly your shoulders loosened and your smile widened, confidence making you stand a bit taller.

Across the ballroom, Coriolanus Snow was repeating his own mantra to himself- Snow always lands on top. A reminder that showing up for another Capitol soirée wasn’t simply a waste of time but another way to show all these sycophants how high he had made it. Now heir to the Plinth fortune he was dressed impeccably. Tigris had helped style him, no more handmade shirts, and the final touch- Grandma’am’s rose pinned to his lapel. Like at most parties he was surrounded by his former classmates who were all desperate to remain in his inner circle- he was an esteemed Gamemaker after all. A glimmer in the distance caught his eye, distracting him from the meaningless chatter before him. He recognized the group as intern Gamemakers but not the young woman, fresh faced and glowing in the candlelight.

“Who is that?” Coriolanus feigned nonchalance as he tilted his head towards her.

Festus Creed followed his gaze, “Don’t you know?”

“How could he know? The Lupus Family only recently decided to establish here in the Capitol,” Pup Harrington said in between bites of hors d'oeuvres. The name rang a bell, stories and information from his various connections coming to mind.

“I believe that’s (Y/N) Lupus. I saw her the other day with her father, Alicio Lupus, at my mother’s bank” Livia Cardew said, inching closer to Coriolanus. “They practically own all the ranches in District Ten, Alicio Lupus’ brother is the Mayor of the District,” Livia whispered, lips coming close to his ear. Festus and Pup exchange an eye roll at her shamelessness and Coriolanus resisted the urge to shrug her off. Offending a Cardew would never bode well.

“She’s district, probably going back and forth from Ten to the Capitol like one of her family’s pigs,” Livia giggled, but it sounded like grating metal in Coriolanus’ ears.

“Don’t forget cows! Oh Panem, I dream about those steaks-,” Pup practically salivated.

“Imagine living all your life in that District, like poor Sejanus,” Festus tutted. Coriolanus immediately bristled at the mention of Sejanus, his icy blue eyes darkening like an impending storm. Festus must have realized his mistake because his eyes widened, apology on the tip of his tongue before Coriolanus cut him off.

“I should go make her acquaintance then,” he announces, ignoring Livia’s scowl. It was an opportune moment he thought as you now stood by the bar alone. Perhaps you would be desperate enough to try and get in his good graces, and offer to introduce him to your father. Coriolanus would be a fool not to recognize the Lupus family’s wealth and influence, they kept the Districts fed and the Capitol fat. Any potential relationship he could make was more support he could need when he would take a position in the Government.

As you took another swig of posca, you thought you had managed to escape more social interactions for the night until a voice made you jump.

“Hello, I’m Coriolanus Snow. Welcome to the Capitol.”

Turning around you looked up at the man’s captivating eyes, as blue as the sky back home. His pink lips curled slightly at the ends as if he was holding in a secret. Blonde hair pushed back in a neat fashion, accentuating his cheekbones. For a moment you were speechless. Remembering yourself, you gave him your name but you had a feeling he already knew it.

“Pleasure to meet you Coriolanus Snow.”

His stomach swooped. Coriolanus swore he heard a familiar lilt in your voice, but it was not as strong as Lucy Gray’s and those in District Twelve. No, yours was smoother and made your pronunciation of his name sound like it was dipped in warm honey.

“How are you finding the Capitol?”, he forces himself to ask, to ignore those dangerous thoughts.

“It's something...definitely not like back home,” you look around at the extravagant decor.

“Ah yes, District Ten. I’ve never made my way there but I’ve heard wonderful things,” the lie flows smoothly past his lips. “How grateful you must feel to finally be brought to us.”

Coriolanus would never miss a chance at making anyone District born feel inferior, all the posca he had been drinking making him loose lipped tonight. Indignation made your hands tingle, but you took a deep breath and clenched the glass tighter in your hands to ground you.

“I’m surprised you weren’t assigned there as a Peacekeeper. I suppose wherever the songbird called from you followed,” you replied, taking a demure sip from your glass, relishing in the way his jaw tensed. You knew who he was, his story with Lucy Gray Baird. Victoriosa had heard it all from a friend and had no qualms in passing the gossip down to you. If he was going to throw thinly veiled insults you’d have to show him you wouldn’t take them lying down.

“There’s that famous Lupus bite I’ve heard about,” he grins, taking a step closer to you. The scent of roses fills your nose, the sudden proximity to him making a blush rise up your neck. His hand reached out, moving to push a piece of hair behind your ear but the moment was broken when Victoriosa called out for you, pointing to your father who was making his way out the doors.

“If you’ll excuse me it’s time for me to get home. I’m sure our paths will cross again,” you murmured softly, dipping your head in farewell. Coriolanus stepped back with a slight bow, eyes never straying from your figure as you sauntered away. Oh yes, like two stars crossing in the night sky, you would meet again. Coriolanus would make sure of it.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #tbosas

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the-travelling-witch · 10 months

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: xiao :: kazuha :: (abyss prince!) aether :: childe x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died; [xiao] unnamed illness; [kazuha] mention of kazu's friend (tomo); [aether] somewhat graphic description of body transmutation/ body horror (just to be safe), possible deviation from khaenri'ah lore; [childe] (description of) blood, wounds, (mentions of) murder, violence over all

the loneliest- måneskin || genshin impact masterlist

a million miles away [pt. 1 - scara, venti, kaveh, zhongli]

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

"You'll be the saddest part of me A part of me that will never be mine It's obvious Tonight is gonna be the loneliest You're still the oxygen I breathe I see your face when I close my eyes It's torturous Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

Dark clouds hung over Liyue’s skies, the air heavy and oppressive. No wind swayed the trees and the afternoon was void of the sounds of chirping birds, no doubt seeking refuge from the desolation clinging to the landscape like wet clothes to skin.

Right under the towering Wangshu Inn, a group of black-clad individuals trekked through muddy grass, hardly standing out against the gloom. It was difficult to tell day from night with the sun completely blocked from view, not a single ray of light illuminating what would usually be the beauty of the Guili Planes.

Indeed, their vastness was a beauty to behold, brimming with life and chattering travellers while the delicious smell floating from Wangshu Inn’s kitchen watered the mouths of returning adventurers. Yes, it had been a long time since anything filled Xiao with so much serenity and peace as watching the sun melt into the mountain tops while you sat with him until the stars shone their light onto the two of you. Finally, after countless millennia of wandering in the dark, he had found something akin to a home.

You had picked a magnificent site as your final resting place.

When your testament had been read, your wish to be laid down in this unconventional location had shocked your friends and family. The journey all the way from Liyue Harbour to Wangshu Inn could be a treacherous and arduous one if you weren’t prepared, so concerns about visiting and maintaining your grave grew loud. Yet, with the help of the innkeeper Verr Goldet, who was well aware of how much you had treasured your time here, assuring everyone you would be well taken care of even on your next journey, your family honoured your wish.

Piercing amber eyes watched as more mortals dressed in all-black gathered for the human rite of passing near the inn. A funeral, that was what you had called it. The purpose was the same though; a life had ended and now those who mourned offered their last respects. Separating from the crowd was the figure of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor Director and although Xiao couldn’t hear what she was saying where he sat, he guessed she was commencing the ceremony. One after the other, members of your family took turns giving speeches and while he didn’t dare go within ear shot, he didn’t need to; the way people’s shoulders shook and how others went to embrace them and dabbed at their tears told him enough.

After a while, even the last of the mourners had left the funeral site and only then did featherlight feet graze the branches of the nearby tree in fleeting touches before the yaksha dropped to the ground several metres away from your grave. A shielded candle on your tomb was all that illuminated his surroundings. The sight of the tombstone rooted him in place, not sure if he should really approach you one more time.

After all, this was his fault.

As if the world agreed with him, the second Xiao set foot onto the path towards your eternal resting place, cold drops battered against his skin and, like black ink bleeding onto a page, they stained heaven and earth. Normally, the adeptus welcomed the cleansing feeling of the rain but on this day it did nothing to wash away the grief hanging heavy between tree trunks and rocks. Instead, it seemed to pull him under as it weighed down his feet and pressed down on his lungs. Still, he continued forward, driven by the need to talk to you again, even if it was only once more.

Even in this weather he could see how polished the headstone was, not at all withered by harsh conditions like the ones he’d come across before. There was no need for him to study the carved letters of your name or the lifespan that was hardly more than the blink of an eye to him, they might as well have been ingrained in his heart rather than this stone. Yet he flinched back when his fingers brushed the intricately written quote underneath.

“The connection between us is too strong to sever. So let us continue this eternal dance together.”

It was a conversation between the two of you he remembered vividly, both voices ringing clear in his ear. Back then, he had been scared by the consequences being together would have, especially for you who wasn’t meant to be exposed to karmic debt. But you had taken his hand and gently intertwined them; face-to-face with your warm smile, he didn’t find the power to pull away. So, instead, he foolishly brought you closer.

And at first, your time together was truly and genuinely perfect. Not only did you both learn a lot about the other’s way of life, you also showed him a love he never experienced before. Sure, his fellow yaksha had cared for him like a family but you held him so carefully as if he were something delicate, not a weapon but someone to be held dear. In the beginning, he was offended. Did you really think he was that fragile? When you, however, reassured him that even the strongest and bravest fighters need to be cared for, he silently melted into your embrace and soon he’d come to miss the feeling if you weren’t there to greet him.

It was only when simple colds turned into you coughing uncontrollably that his worries slapped him awake again. Despite your protests that you were fine, Xiao ushered you to see a doctor in the city. His anxieties were proven right when you came back with a crestfallen expression, barely able to utter the devastating words ‘chronic illness’.

Over weeks and months, you worked hard on all the therapies and rehabilitation methods you were given, yet despite your best effort it wasn’t enough. Your body could not fight back against what was happening to you and you grew weaker still. Another doctor’s appointment later, the word ‘fatal’ hung over your head like a sword threatening to fall any second.

Yet, in the face of your own death sentence, you remained strong. Far stronger than he ever could be. You spent more time with him, travelled more, tried things you never had the chance to before. To everyone else you portrayed a picture of dignified acceptance, still it wasn’t quite enough to hide your feelings from him. Not when he could hear your sniffles and suppressed sobs coming from the opened balcony door on yet another sleepless night. When he reached out to hold you, you hastily wiped your tears and showed him a wobbly smile, playfully chastising yourself for staying up too late.

The following day, you still woke up with him, made breakfast as he got ready to leave and pressed such a painfully loving kiss to his lips before he leapt off the balcony. Although it was something you did every day, there was still something off about it, something that gnawed at him all day. As he drove his spear through demon after demon, he couldn’t help but replay the scene over and over again, his mind jumping from bad to worse.

It didn’t prepare him for finding your unconscious body on the wooden floorboards of your shared home. Spear clattering to the floor, Xiao rushed over to cradle you against his chest but no matter how often he spoke your name, you wouldn’t come back to him. Alerted by the commotion, the innkeeper called for a doctor immediately but even then, they couldn’t do anything but confirm what everyone had dreaded.

The letter on the table didn’t catch his eye until much later. Next to it lay a woven charm made from an adepti technique he’d shown you and preserved qingxin flowers you had picked together. It was clumsy handiwork but to him it was more perfect than anything else. He was careful as he broke the letter’s seal and held the decorated paper between his gloved fingers. As he soaked up your words, Xiao felt his knees weaken and he had to take a seat before continuing to read. You thanked him for your time together, apologised for leaving early, expressed your hope to see him again one fateful day.

Even recalling it now as he stood in the chill of the rain made his head hurt, his soul feeling like it was being torn into a million directions. How could you be grateful, how could you be sorry, how could you miss the reason pain had befallen you? You should have been angry and should’ve yelled at him, hit him, hurt him, not comfort him. Not smiled at him or held him. He didn’t deserve your kindness and your warmth and your love.

Seeing your name carved in stone like this was much worse than Xiao could have imagined. It radiated a finality, an unyielding reality there was no waking up from. The sudden rush of his suppressed guilt flooded his mind and had the adeptus keeling over onto the muddy grass. There was a pounding in his head and he tugged harshly at his roots to make it stop. Despite having no need for food, he felt nauseous as he clutched his stomach with one hand while the other dug into the soil in front of your grave.

He should have known the black bonds would ensnare you too, the clutches of his karmic debt too powerful to escape. Despite knowing better, he still selfishly took your hand all that time ago. When he reached for you like a man drowning, he thought at first you were his salvation. Too late did he realise he was dragging you down into the pitch black depths with him.

In his foolishness, he had doomed you and now you had to pay the price.

The thought tore a pained sound from him, more akin to a wounded animal than anything human. By now it was hard for him to differentiate between physical and mental sensations, he couldn’t be sure whether the pain he felt was real or just his imagination. Just when it became too much to bear and black spots danced across his vision, a faint call of his name caught his attention.

“Xiao, breathe,” a comfortingly familiar voice reached through the fog of his mind and pulled him back to the surface of reality where he sharply inhaled some much needed air. “It’s okay.”

Looking around frantically, he searched for the origin of your voice just to succumb to the realisation that there was nobody there. Only the dancing flame of the candle in front of him moved during the descent of night. Unlike the damp tear tracks streaking his face, you were but a figment of his imagination.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Xiao wiped over his cheeks and rose to his feet. With uncharacteristically clumsy fingers he placed a small incense burner and a jade talisman next to the silk flowers and glaze lilies left by the funeral attendees before making a fleet-footed retreat to the top of the inn.

Once again, you’d dispelled the karma threatening to overtake him when it became too overwhelming to bear. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it but he would see you again. Until then, he’d carry on with his duty and uphold his contract without falling prey to the madness within. All to be reunited with you when the time came.

When your family came to visit your grave some time later, they were positively perplexed at the pristine condition it was in. No moss covered the stone, the flowers had been replaced with vivid ones growing around your resting place and the candle had been changed out for a new one. When they asked Verr Goldet about it, the innkeeper merely smiled knowingly, reiterating that there was someone here who cared deeply for you.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

"...There's a few lines that I have wrote In case of death, that's what I want, that's what I want So don't be sad when I'll be gone There's just one thing I hope you know, I loved you so..."

The scratching of a pen filled the wooden cabin of the Alcor, the yet-to-dry ink reflecting the last golden rays of the sun. From right outside the circular window, the cries of seagulls could be heard as a flock of them returned to their nest for the night. Waves gently swayed the flagship of the Crux, the resulting sea spray carrying more salty air into the room.

Kazuha paused his writing, pen lifted over the first line of the letter as maple eyes reflected the shift of the sun from amber to a molten crimson. When it started sinking beneath the line of the horizon, he picked up a box of matches to light a candle. For a few seconds, the burnt scent of wood tickled his nose before it evaporated. Such was the nature of the world, everything must come to an end, not even eternity would change that fate; whether it was the sinking sun, the spark of a flame or the life of a treasured person.

He dipped his pen in ink once more before lifting the end to his chin in contemplation, deciding on what to fill the page with this evening. Kazuha’s eyes traced the words of the first line which were at this point engraved into his heart, then set pen to paper in practised motions.

My love,

I hope this letter finds you well.

Worry not, I’m enjoying good health myself and life on the Alcor is treating me well. Unless the crew starts drunkenly singing again; I normally do not suffer from sea sickness, however, … I leave the rest to your imagination.

Otherwise, my days have been rather quiet. Although, whenever we anchor somewhere, I’ve been granted the most beautiful of views. All the places we hoped to visit together one day, they’re as magnificent as we imagined. I wish I could show you the sceneries of Teyvat’s nations; the sunsets and sunrises, the lush forests and gurgling rivers springing from majestic waterfalls. I’m certain you’d enjoy them quite a lot.

Still, despite having seen a lot of what this world has to offer, I can confidently say, nothing compares to your beauty. Even though it has been a while since I’ve been graced by your radiance, I have no trouble recalling it before my mind’s eye. In fact, it is harder not to think of you within every waking moment and my most cherished dreams are those of you.

I see the curves of your lips in the petals of silk flowers, the brightest stars do not compare to the sparkle of your eyes and no amount of lamp grass can illuminate my nights like your smile can. When the afternoon breeze brushes my cheek I am reminded of your gentle touch, the waves whisper stories like you do while curled up by my side, the dancing glow of crystal flies is not nearly as captivating as you coming to see me.

As you can tell, you have positively enchanted me, my dear, and I find it hard to steer my thoughts in a direction which does not lead me back to you; I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, it comes as no surprise that I long for the day I will enjoy your precious company again. Oh, what I wouldn’t do to hold you in my arms again, now and forever. If I could only be granted this one wish, I truly would not yearn for anything else ever again because every moment with you feels like the calming essence my dreams are made of.

The next time we reunite, I’d be honoured to share my most recent works with you; there are quite a number of haikus, sonnets and odes you have inspired. Until then, I’d be pleased to hear from you, wherever you may currently be.

My heart belongs to you always and forever,

Kazuha

With a fond smile, the crimson-eyed samurai waited for the ink to dry before folding the letter carefully and tucking it safely away in an envelope. Reaching for the maple-leaf carved wax seal Beidou had generously gotten for him, Kazuha pressed the stamp down with measured strength. Once it had cooled sufficiently, he adoringly brushed his bandaged thumb over the seal, then turned the letter over and gracefully looped the curves of your name onto the front.

Opening the top drawer of his desk, he placed the envelope on top of the neatly stacked letters already occupying the space. Soon, he’d need to find a different place to store them, lest they quilled over. After all, there was no address they could be delivered to anymore, nobody to receive the feelings he spilled onto the page. Or maybe there was, just not on a plane of existence he could perceive.

Exhaling a tired sigh, Kazuha lifted his gaze outside his window again. There, the moon was glowing a bright white while surrounded by stars, evoking distant memories of a fluffy kitten playing amongst the flowers of an Inazuman meadow.

At the sight, he couldn’t help but wonder, were the two of you at peace? Did you meet somewhere he had yet to explore? Did you get along well? Were Tomo and you watching over him from high above, smiling to yourselves about the person he had become, the choices he made and would make? The thought filled him with peace and joy, yet also, excitement, despite the circumstances.

After all, it would mean Kazuha, too, had the possibility of joining you once his time came and that hope helped calm his heart, no matter what storm he had to face.

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

"...'Cause I don't even care about the time I've got left here The only thing I know now is that I wanna spend it With you, with you nobody else here Tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

A crimson moon had risen over Khaenri’ah that night, the very foundation of the land shaking under the attacks the nation suffered. People were running for their lives on unstable footing, trying to escape the scorn of the gods, despite not knowing where -or if- they would be safe. The noise in the city was loud enough to drown out your own thoughts, cries of humans and monsters alike echoing through the smoke-filled sky.

Holding onto your hand tightly, Aether dodged several panicked people, trying not to get you caught in the chaotic mass of moving bodies as fear spread among the civilians like a plague. Both of you staggered slightly as you reached the edge of the central square when another quake of the ground sent more buildings crumbling to the ground.

After running for several more minutes and creating distance to most of the people, you stopped to catch your breath as you surveyed the destruction below. The city you had moved to was hardly recognisable, dyed in the scarlet of flames and the charcoal of smoke. In the distance, you could spot hordes of rifthounds crossing the border to Teyvat’s other nations, only further aggravating the forces of ‘divine punishment’.

Aether wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder. Even as he shut his eyes, he couldn’t keep out the flashes of light wreaking devastation on the nation. Focusing on the warmth radiating from your body, the blond let his hand wander over your arm as if to confirm you were still with him. You stood like this for a while until the loudest of the noise died out and the worst of it seemed to be over.

Or that was what he thought. Because soon thereafter, shrill shrieks coming from the city pierced his ears, pitched in an agony he had never witnessed before. Not on any world he had visited in the past had a sound chilled his blood and made his skin crawl from the sheer terror it conveyed. It was a chorus of voices drifting up from below, contorted in both confusion and pain.

Frozen in shock, Aether barely felt you twitching in his arm until it turned to full-body spasms and you wrangled free from his embrace. Stumbling backwards, you clutched your head and doubled over, barely able to stand on your own feet as groans of discomfort started straining into screams as well. If he thought it was nightmarish before, seeing the person he loved scratch down their own face in torment while their voice grew hoarse from screeching in pure misery was indescribably cruel.

Reaching out to do something, anything, to help, he heard the first sickening crack of what could only be bones and his stomach dropped a little lower every time the sound echoed through the dreadful night. By the time it stopped, Aether suppressed the urge to throw up the acid in his stomach to relieve the nausea which had overcome him.

But still, that sensation was nothing compared to the ice cold dread washing over him when instead of you, a small haggard creature with a large mask covering its entire face stood in your place. It was dizzy and disoriented, yet, as soon as Aether made a move towards, it clumsily scurried away from him.

Looking down into the centre of the city, he saw a large number of strange creatures of all sizes swarm the place as the people around them dove out of their way. Overall though, the number of entities didn’t seem to have changed and there was simply no way these strange beings could have switched places with the civilians this quickly. Surely, it couldn’t be…

In a small voice, he called your name and watched as the masked creature cautiously studied him before taking a single step in his direction. A falling piece of debris hit the ground near the two of you and, quick as lightning, the thing flinched back and ran to the square where most of them had gathered, ignoring his calls to wait.

The events of that night still replayed in his mind and haunted him when he closed his eyes. Oftentimes, he’d wake with a start, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for air, startling his then travelling companion Dainsleif on more than one occasion. How could he ever forget the strangled cries ripped from your throat as you were transformed into what was now known as a hilichurl for no fault of your own.

After the catastrophe, it soon became clear that both the transformation and the immortality placed upon the people of Khaenri’ah were a curse by the gods, led by the Heavenly Principles, as retribution for the nation’s sins. But you had done nothing wrong; neither had most of the people affected. You merely moved to a place not ruled over by the gods. You were not deserving of any punishment; it was the epitome of injustice.

Over time, and despite Dainsleif’s strongly principled company, Aether’s grief slowly withered away and gave birth to frustration, anger and a certain yearning for revenge. That corrupted seed was nourished by every bloody hilichurl mask he came across on their travels, not wanting to think about what that could imply. The rest of Teyvat wasn’t even aware of the fate their beloved gods had doomed Khaenri’ahns to; to them, his fellow people were merely monsters to be slain.

First the Heavenly Principles separated him from his sister and then they took away the one person he found comfort in, who gave him stability and hope for the future. In a sickened way the thought drove him forward. Whether it was to move against the Heavenly Principles or find a way to break the curse, he needed to do something. Even if breaking the curse would reveal what he feared every time he saw a rotted out hilichurl camp to be true, he’d endure it better than the uncertainty gnawing at his stomach.

So, to his own shock, he wasn’t surprised by how quickly he warmed up to Clothar Alberich’s proposal of establishing a new organisation of Khaenri’ahns, who were able to retain their self-awareness, and aiming to topple the divine thrones. To enact his own justice upon the world, which cruelly brought its own down on him, Aether would do anything.

He’d even become the Prince of the Abyss.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

"...And I just keep on thinking how you made me feel better And all the crazy little things that we did together In the end, in the end, it doesn't matter If tonight is gonna be the loneliest..."

The stench of blood hung in the air, the taste of iron filled the Harbinger’s mouth every time he breathed in. His left eye was only partially opened as the skin around a nasty cut on his temple swole up. It would certainly bruise, perhaps even leave a scar if it went uncared for, yet he hardly spared it a second thought.

As he moved to take out the last of his enemies still standing, the edges of his torn clothes dragged through the underlying wounds and ripped open those the fabric had clung to as they started building crusts. Childe’s breathing was ragged from both physical strain and a severe blow to his rib cage, one of them probably broken by the impact. Well, this wasn’t supposed to be a one person job after all.

But all his work had been so incredibly dull recently, so he purposely sent his subordinates to the wrong location and moved in alone, just to feel the thrill of battle. Normally, a battle in which the opponent was strong enough to wound him to this degree would shoot adrenaline straight through his veins, yet, it felt like nothing but a chore to him. No pride, no joy followed him as he dragged his damp shoes through the scarlet puddles on the cave floor, not even flinching at the cracking sound as he stepped on what he presumed to be someone’s hand. He didn’t care enough to look down.

The way back to Liyue Harbour was uneventful. Those who showed their faces learned pretty quickly that Childe wasn’t to be trifled with if they valued their lives and it wasn’t long before he dropped from the roof of Northland Bank, startling the Fatui Soldiers currently switching shifts.

“M-My Lord,” one of them stammered as her eyes snapped from the tattered scarf to the droplets staining his hair a darker shade of red to the various gashes littering his body. “Your subordinates have been search–”

The Harbinger dismissed her with a mere wave of his hand and motioned for them to open the door. The two quickly scrambled to oblige, their frightened eyes still clinging to his back as he strode through the pristine halls of Northland bank, bloody footprints leaving a trail to his office. Other staff members on duty practically jumped out of his way with a simple glance at his usually bright face, fearing they’d end up as another stain on his sullied uniform.

Dropping into the chair behind the heavy oak desk while heaving a deep sigh, Childe discarded the scuffed red mask before sliding his gloved hand down his face, wincing as he put pressure on his fresh cut. Eventually he tipped his head back with a low groan.

The stale silence of paperwork and files was oppressive, adding to the pressure pounding through his skull. A tiny, rational voice in his head scolded him that this kind of reckless behaviour needed to end, that he was destroying himself. But the crazed part of his brain pushed back hard against the painful familiarity and steered his mind far away from every possible memory associated with it.

Casting his eyes down on the tabletop, he felt his mood sour even more at the fresh stack of letters waiting to be opened. Among the countless Fatui sigils, one particular envelope caught his eyes though; one with the address scribbled in childish handwriting.

Discarding his crimson-dyed gloves and picking his siblings’ letter from the pile with slow fingers, Childe opened it with careful motions. Instantly, a light flutter stirred in his chest at their antics, the stories they told from home and the instances where Teucer definitely pestered Tonia into including a certain detail.

The curve of his smile dropped when his eyes landed on the last part of the letter. Under his tightening grip, the letter he cherished so much before started to crumble and crease as his expression hardened again.

“Ajax, when are you bringing your partner again? You mentioned that they liked the dish mom made last time they visited, so I practised really hard to make it for them the next time. We’re really looking forward to seeing them again! Also mom asks when you’re getting married but I told her to be patient.”

As he stared down the words like they had personally wrong him, he didn’t notice the blood droplet running down the tip of his hair before it fell onto the letter. Childe watched as the red mixed with black, wetting the ink until the curves of your name had disappeared into nothingness, much like you had. One moment there, the next… gone.

In a moment of clarity, which came far too late, the ginger wiped frantically at the letter, trying to retrieve you but it was no use. By the time he stopped, the entire paragraph was smudged in a greyish smear of red and black.

Dropping the scarlet letter, Childe supported his lead-heavy head on his hands as he dropped forward, hunching over his desk in defeat. This time it wasn’t blood which wetted his palms but salty tears, the first ones he’d shed since your passing.

It felt as if someone had dropped a ton of bricks onto his shoulders as the glass he kept his feelings in broke and they flooded his consciousness like waves crashing onto a small fisher boat.

Almost, Childe could feel the grip of your hand in his as you were running across Liyue’s Planes, away from the chaos by his own design, your excited laughter mingling with his own until you fell into the soft grass next to each other. Or how you'd huddled together for warmth under the starry skies of his home, steaming mugs clutched in your hands. He could vividly remember how you brushed away his bangs to press a searing kiss to his temple, eyes so full of love as you looked into his.

But what did it matter now? Why look back when you weren’t next to him anymore? When he couldn’t hold you anymore or bring you back home to meet his family? The family you would have become a part of?

All at once, his wounds started to burn and ache, every breath felt like he was dying as his broken ribs expanded and sunk around his lungs. His mouth tasted bitter with blood and he fought to keep his lunch down. He cringed at the sticky feeling of exudate running down his temple and trickling into the corners of his eyes, glueing his lashes together as he blinked. Even now, you were still right. He was destroying himself. But this time, you weren’t there to stop him.

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin x reader #genshin angst #xiao x reader #xiao angst #genshin impact xiao #kazuha x reader #kazuha angst #genshin impact kazuha #aether x reader #aether angst #genshin impact aether #childe x reader #childe angst #genshin impact childe

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itsonlydana · 4 days

Text

Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #king of mirkwood #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

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vitaminseetarot · 1 month

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Lenormand PAC: Messages From the Eclipsed Sun 🔆🌑😎

Sup y'all. Welcome to my lil end-of-March reading! Thank you for voting in the polls for April's next PAC topic for the 1 year special, which will be coming up next. Also thank you very, very much once again for participating in my 2nd tarot game! I'm still answering feedback and I'm glad so many of you enjoyed it as I did. I'm looking forward to the next game in summer (possibly a Midsummer game? 🧚‍♀️🐈🎶☀)

I was shuffling my Alchemy Elements deck and noticed that three random cards I pulled out were from the Sun suit (the four suits in this oracle are Moon, Sun, Star, and Earth). I had no topic in mind, so I allowed different mystery messages to come through. These light messages will be relevant to you as you pass through the new moon solar eclipse and all through the next lunar month.

Pick which one of the three sun cards resonates with you:

Flower 💐 Animal 🐎 River 🌊

Pile 1. Flower 💐

Gratitude, Bird of Paradise, Knowledge; Mountain, Astral Travel, Tower, Promise, Garden

The world outside is calling you, pile 1. You can't smell the roses blooming if you keep containing yourself under the roof. The beautiful days want you to explore and wander like a child discovering nature for the first time. Perhaps there are flowers you've never seen up close, maybe it's been a while since nature gave you new things to learn and marvel. Botanical gardens are filled with surprises, as are concrete cracks in the city.

Your hands seem too easily tied up in the working world, fulfilling task after task as if every day was meant to be the same. I see a person staring outside their cubicle, wondering when they'll find the time to make it to the park. Wondering when they'll be able to go to that fair, or practice surf lessons. Wondering, hoping, dreaming of the day when the walls can come down, and there will be no separation between daily life and the life filled with endless creative possibilities, waiting to be picked and weaved into crowns.

The path is neither just up ahead, nor light years away; it's right in front of you now. Accept the moment you find yourself in, even if it's impossible, because the surprises you are looking for are already surrounding you. It may feel like you have to climb far to see any hope of change, but you're asked to find stillness and beauty hidden within the climb. Even if you're not wandering through a field of wildflowers yet, there may be chance blossoms within your reach. Be thankful for the present peace you find. Ivy wraps around ivory walls; nature will find a way to you.

Wherever you intend to go, you may need to leave behind the opinions of others that don't help or encourage you. Let them have their perspectives, for they have their own paths to walk. You have yours waiting just outside the door. The light outside may overwhelm you, but it beckons you to appreciate what it has in store for you. So much more awaits you. But what you have today is just as beautiful.

Pile 2. Animal 🐎

Balance, Lenten Rose, Insight; Letter, Mirage, Heart, Bouquet, Moon

I hope the sun brings you brighter days, pile 2. There are friends (including animal friends!) who want to bask under the warm luminous skies with you. This time encourage us to stretch our arms out, walk with an extra skip, and enjoy what tomorrow has in store. However, there is anxiety keeping you held in, preventing you from racing ahead. You are being called to expand, move your body, and find ways to embrace joyful freedom more.

Before email and mail trucks were a thing, we had pony mail, which could take weeks to arrive to your mailbox. The information you're receiving doesn't match up to the reality you're soon living in. By the time you're reading the newspaper you have, another one will be on its way, contradicting the one in your hands. Reading over and over can help us feel ready to take on the world, but does it? Or is it keeping you in a loop of confirming news that confirms the news that conforms to the news you're expecting?

Newsflash: the most important place, the space that occurs before it's recorded in the papers, is the place your attention should focus on. If you can meet up with your friends in person, try hanging out with them outside of chatting online. Allow yourself to experience life alongside someone, to feel the wind in your hair as they drive; if you have a pet, spend an afternoon with them on a long walk. A friendly person who can help you desires connection.

Life is a mix of bright and sunny days, mixed with cloudy and rainy days. There are days to be serious and days to be goofy. There are times to stay at home online and times to go out with others. There are moments to feel sadness and worry, and moments of humor and happiness. Take it easy on yourself, pile 2, and whatever topic has you fixated on it, allow yourself the chance to step outside, walk away, and feel the light of the sun and moon on your face.

Pile 3. River 🌊

Desire, Cyclamen, Reminiscence; Tree, Protection, Animus, Star, Crossroads

It's okay to not know everything about your path ahead, pile 3. You may be figuring things out as you go along, without any set marker. You're being reminded that whatever path you take, things will turn out okay. Many twists and turns can make a long river, but you will be prepared. It's safe to keep moving in the flow with the currents. When the rolling waves seem slow and steady, it's best to ride along with it, for you have more time than you think to row through.

At times you may desire to keep your boat docked, unable to leave the shore and its many amenities. You may look back on what you used to love (or perhaps found addicting) and wish it were easier to wave it away. Don't be afraid to take souvenirs with you, to remind you of the good times you had. It'll make the transition smoother for when it's time to depart to your next destination. Big changes often require carrying things lightly.

Your north star is shining its beacon out to you. To find it, you must make it; to make it, you must find it. You must set your course by getting clear on where you most want to go. No one else can make this choice for you, for it's your unique trip. The map is with you, provided to you by years of experience and growth. There may be many different distractions, and it's okay to stop to them first just to explore instead of making it to the end goal right away. It's all part of your grand adventure, and the many secrets and surprises make it all the more exciting..

When there's a wish, there's a way. You have the drive within you to set sail towards your greatest yearning in life. Even if it doesn't seem it, you are able to channel the bravery and passion from within. When the skies are dark and you cannot navigate with the stars, you can look to the light beaming out from your soul to find your own way.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

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searchingforserendipity25 · 1 month

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An old draft resurrected for @feanorianweek! Inspired by last year's Back to Middle Earth bingo board option - gift giving. Some humor and some angst. In which Maedhros is a defiant prisoner, but not the most infuriating of his siblings.

Gift-Giving

In Valinor, there had been certain expectations from musicians - the minstrels, those few that devoted themselves fully to the Song.

Every noble house ought to have one among their members, and the noblest the best; Maglor had been very obliging in that regard. Maglor had been the example to follow, the prototype, the trend-setter.

Maglor, Maedhros had thought even then, had chosen the Song as much as it had chosen him. For its own sake; and also so that he did not have to choose anything else less great and mighty.

Minstrels were for rites, time-keeping, celebration and beauty. Minstrels were for the blessing of the fields. Minstrels were an honour to their kin, and an adornment.

Beleriand changed things. In Beleriand, Song was power, and Songs of Power needful weapons used beyond the value of their beauty alone.

Unfortunately, kingship was also power, and not one that could lightly be set aside. Fortunately, Macalaurë had always been very able at managing a number of tasks, as long as he could accomplish them in the most impressive and aggravating performance possible.

For thirty years he ruled singly, second-born of a great house in exile, making Siege against one of the Powers, he that first Sang discord into the very matter and memory and making of the world.

Morgoth was besieged. Maitimo might be prisoner, hostage, slave and victim, but there was some satisfaction in knowing the manner of his binding.

Treachery there had been, and foolish anguish - but he would not have chosen other. He could not have chosen otherwise; and at least this time, when he suffered the consequences of one of his brother’s irreverence, there was a bitter pleasure in the paying of it.

No gift could be sweeter to him than the memory of the song borne over the great dark stillness of Thangorodrim. The voice soaring to the heights, saying,

HAIL DECEIVER, SACKER AND THIEF, FROM ANOTHER MURDERER: HOW IS IT TO BE LOATHED AND REGRETTED BY ILÚVITAR, THY VERY OWN KING AND FATHER -

“Alas for what you have wrought, fell lord,” called Maitimo Nelyafinwë. The laughter wound the chains more treacherously still on themselves, but it was worth it, and frankly necessary to defiance to laugh sometimes. “Once he is started, the true challenge is to close his mouth.”

AND KNOW THOU HAST BEEN MADE TO FAIL AND FAIL AND FAIL EVER AND EVER UNTO THE VICTORY OF THE HEAVENS AND INDEED THE FORCE OF ELVES IN WRATH AGAINST THEE -

Morgoth roared, and shock the mountain, and thundered at the skies.

There was a pause. The echo rang, and then the silence; it set, and settled. Morgoth’s immensity blotted out the stars, and grew to match his complacency.

Maitimo waited. His brother held passionately to a theory, regarding the counting of time in silence as a mark authorship, from which every composed could be identified with enough familiarity, and his thesis presentation had gone something like this:

Somewhere in the far, far distance, there was the familiar sound of a harp being strummed in a uniquely obnoxious fashion.

GIVE ME BACK MY BROTHER THOU AVARICIOUS CUR-FACED DULL-WITTED CRAVEN -

For a moment, a terrible abyss of an instant, the full force of Morgoth's loathing filled the air in a silence made of many dimensions and many strains of incredulous rage.

“You heard him,” Maitimo said into it. Teeth-bared, words round and smiling in his mouth. “Cur.”

The chains were really quite dreadful, where they bit into flesh to lash the bones; but he wouldn't have said they weren't worth it, for the look on Morgoth's face just then.

#maedhros #maglor #morgoth #feanorianweek #the silm #silm fic #silmarillion #my fics

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shepherds-of-haven · 3 months

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Had a dream about it so I need to ask, how would like a ski or snowboard or general mountain retreat trip go for the shepherds?

This sounds like such a fun dream! ⛷️

Blade: he'd be mildly interested in giving snowboarding a try, though he'd probably have his "fill" after a day: while he's athletically gifted and can take up pretty much any sport decently well, he actually tends to find most of them boring (unless his competitive spirit is fired up) and would probably find trudging up and down slopes tedious! By Day 2 he'd probably just be fine staying indoors by a fire with a book... partially because he'd be sick of Chase trying to cling to the back of his ski jacket so Blade could drag him places like a sled horse ৻(≧ᗜ≦৻)

Trouble: he'd be up at sunrise ready to shred some fresh powder, and you'd have to drag him home long after dark!! He's crushing those slopes and having so much fun doing it!! He's Shaun White at the X Games babey!!! He's like an Alaskan Husky you can't get to come indoors, people will be like "TROUBLE it's time to EAT" and he'll be looking at you with snow in his hair like "just one more slope!! :D"

Tallys: no. she hates the cold, she either wouldn't have come on this trip at all, or she'd be inside with several fleece blankets on her lap and a stack of books all day! Maybe if the resort offers any sleigh rides or something of the sort, she'd venture out, but actively spending time in the snow is a special kind of misery for her! She'd probably be most interested in the resort's spa! (Do ski resorts have those?)

Shery: she's keeping Tallys company by the fire with a nice cup of tea in the morning and a hot cocoa in the afternoon! Maybe she'll venture outside to do some snow activities like building a snowman or going on a walk, but if she tries to ski or snowboard, she will likely break her neck :') If there are Christmas markets or nearby towns nearby, the two of them are doing something like that instead!

Riel: he's in his room or by the lobby fireplace, working. You couldn't compel him to strap a pair of planks to his feet under threat of death... Not only is the risk of injury too high, it just looks ridiculous!!! Perhaps he will indulge in a hot toddy or glass of wine...

Chase: he'd have a bit of fun snowboarding or skiing for a few hours, but eventually the novelty would wear off and he'd be more interested in spending time in the hot tub (and any ensuing hijinks that might result therein) and prodding everyone to meet up in one of the rooms for a party/card games/inevitable night of drinking

Red: he'd have fun skiing with everyone during the day, but he'd most look forward to curling up by the fire in the evening with a stack of good books and just relaxing! Unfortunately, Chase probably won't let him get away with that for long... He'd look very erudite and sophisticated though, I'm picturing him in a nice sweater or a scarf with a pair of reading glasses or something! 😂

Ayla: she's right up there with Trouble, she'd definitely be a ski bum and would spend all of her available time on the slopes, and then unwind in a hot tub after! The two of them would probably get into increasingly more dangerous competitions in which they raced to complete the black diamond slopes in as fast a time as possible... would probably insist on staying out late to complete "just one more course" and would probably end up getting stuck on the ski lift when it shut down after sunset. By the time the others figured out they were missing, they'd be easy to find because of the sounds of the furious arguing somewhere overhead...

Briony: she'd try snowboarding, but she probably wouldn't be very graceful at it and would just keep falling over, constantly forgetting her feet were strapped down and trying to "walk" instead of slide! Eventually she'd probably give up and join Tallys and Shery at the nearby market or would be more focused on taking pictures of everything/everyone or setting up a bonfire to gaze at the stars than actively learning how to snowboard or ski!

Lavinet: she's an excellent skier (it would probably go Halek -> Lavinet -> Trouble - Ayla) as a result of having been instructed when she was young, but she'd have little interest in it after an hour or so. She's booked up her whole weekend with treatments at the spa!

Halek: he grew up in the mountains (even in a modern AU), so I imagine snowboarding/skiing was as commonplace to him as breathing. Everyone would be so surprised to find him just zooming past them wordlessly on the slopes, like Trouble and Ayla are just like "HAHAH EAT MY SHORTS TRUBS YOU'RE NEVER GONNA--"

*white Halek-shaped blur races past*

I feel like you'd find him doing something random like ice-fishing at some point, too!

#Shepherds of Haven #modern AU #snowboard #snowboarding #ski resort #ski #skiing #winter

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jhuzen · 1 year

Text

attention [gn/m.reader]

quick sfw fic to cleanse all of your palate from all that filth :). sagauauauauauu because my time in genshin dropped by a mile. definitely not because i’m playing honkai and have been into star rail beta lately. definitely not that. :) also definitely not an introduction to the possibility of me writing for the hsr men once the game comes out :))

𖦹 crack fic, subtle dark themes in the end, sfw sfw :D, whore overseer reader sigh, mentions of characters from hsr and honkai impact, but nothing to concern yourself over. though i would recommend you see them for yourself hehe

Quiet. It had been all too quiet. Everyone looked up at the skies where often your softest gaze can be seen as you waited for the world to prepare for your arrival. You, their ever so benevolent overseer, isn’t around to spend some time with them like you usually would.

Such a mistake can’t exactly be unforgivable. They know you have a life other than being the great overseer of their world. You’ve talked to the many other otherworldly beings in your world, and they’ve lent their ears on days where you weren’t feeling the greatest, often do they have to suffer seeing you in such a mess as well. But there was nothing that they could do but keep up the support, letting you just sit back and diligently puppet them around, watching with satisfaction as they dealt bigger and heavier damage than the usual.

But these days, it had been relatively different. The way you were absent was in a rather poor taste, according to your devoted characters. It left something within them that they didn’t particularly want to entertain, sensing that there was something that changed with you.

Suddenly, your usual schedule of nightly visits with them turned erratic. You would either come earlier, or much later, barely making it through the commissions before the daily reset.

Worst of all, the new area that the Dendro Archon has offered to you, the one that you promised you would explore with your beloved team was suddenly left at thirty percent. You promised you would dedicate yourself into exploring the new area more, seeing that you were so excited to see Jeht and the new characters, even the NPCs that had to play the roles of the bad guys didn’t mind your berating.

Your promise was yet to be fulfilled and yet every time you would log in, you would only finish up the commissions quick and spend the resin on leylines, not bothering to farm for the artifacts and talent books like you promised to the others as well. And after that, you’re quick to leave them alone again in the wake of silence that only you can fill.

It was painful to see you leave, the care that you always showered with them slowly dwindling — your promises that seemed to hold all the water in Teyvat suddenly breaking, turning into an empty vessel of lies. You were breaking their hearts.

The hardworking ones slowly finding less meaning in foraging materials for you when you would send them on expeditions. They used to be so eager to come back with more than what you expected, finding your surprised face and the way you smiled so gratefully at them far more rewarding than any mora they’ve been paid with for the expedition. You were worth it in their eyes, and no matter how high the mountains they may climb, no matter how strong the thunderstorms are, they did not mind. It was for you after all.

The children that you’ve taken in your roster, ones that you’ve cared for, were slowly wilting and losing their childish glee. You no longer played with them. You always took them out, claiming that your daughters can cause better chaos than any other Archon combination out there. But all you’ve ever used these past few days is your main team, and even then, they were only there to serve your commissions to be done quickly.

The Archons that you’ve nurtured and built so well were lost without your gaze on them. Their lives becoming far more dull without the anticipation of being selected to lead or support your current team. You always experimented on their capabilities and tested just how far you can drive up the skills they’ve accumulated under your mercy. But now, there was barely any suspense as you came and went, barely even having the chance for them to feel you.

The abyss was lonely without you. Often it had fun at seeing your torment when you lost a single star, only to come back again with different contenders. And even when you won, frustration was not the response you would get if the abyss was sentient enough to show you its feelings.

The traveler… oh, your dearest traveler was lonely without you. More than anything, you’ve always taken the time to just explore with just them in the team, indulging the personal time you’ve made for them, foraging for specialties even when you can easily locate them with the nation specialty experts on your team. But no, you shared this time just for them and them.

But now there was coldness that you left. You were always so busy but there was nothing keeping you either. But how would they even know when you barely talk to them anymore. You became so unnervingly quiet that it was uncomfortable for everyone, only seeing your eyes focused into desecrating every enemy on your hit list of commissions. They barely had time to appreciate your company.

Not when the last time you spoke, it sounded like being with them was a chore.

“Ugh. It’s almost reset time. Gotta make this quick.”

And just when they thought you’d stay for a few more minutes to continue with the reset, you’d leave quick.

They all wanted to break through their code, change the texts of their voice lines should you happen upon their profile accidentally and see that they wanted to know why you’ve become so distant lately.

Fortunately, your beloved characters are bound to get their answers on the day that you were interrupted.

Aether watched from the sidelines — just because he wasn’t visible in the team, it didn’t mean that he was completely shoved in the back unlike the others. He will always be around to talk to the other residents of Teyvat for you. He’s your voice after all, and he wouldn’t let anyone take that away from him. It’s the one job he has always enjoyed doing in comparison to all the commissions he’s taken on as an adventurer.

The outlander traveler watched as your team stayed still in place, gazing off in your direction, admiring the way your eyebrows knitted as the blaring call interrupted your time with them. Perhaps you still had some care within you, then?

Curiosity swept everyone like a massive tidal wave as you answered your little communication device, turning in your swivel chair.

“Speak before I change my mind about answering you,,” you huffed, a tad playful, but stayed silent as you listened to your friend. Even from the muted volume that the great barrier that is your screen provided, they can hear your friend’s rather loud laughter, possibly on a mission to destroy your poor ears.

“Ah, that? Yeah. I got into the beta testing. It’s wild, dude.” You chortled, before swiveling back to face your computer, those eyes of yours digging into your team’s bodies and boy were they glad they can control a shiver that you sent down their spines. There was always something so hypnotic about your gaze. Perhaps it’s why you’ve truly earned the title as their grand overseer. The way you seemed to just catch onto every little detail in the clothing they’ve donned on. It was a good feeling — to have your approval.

Your eyes never once left them as you continued on with your conversation, “It’s kind of like TCG, but with people. Hah… no. It’s kinda complicated, I’m not even going to lie, I have a feeling that people will really struggle if they don’t have the patience for this.” You smiled a little, “Yeah, people like you. …Apologize? What for? I’m only telling the truth. Anyway, even if you don’t have the patience, I’m sure you’ll bend your back for the characters.”

Now that piqued their interests. Even those who were situated in the backseat of your team, waiting to be used. “You’re not really wrong. You’ll see characters from Honkai there too. Yeah. Welt looks so old, dude. He’s giving DILF. You’ll like him.” You cackled.

Poor Zhongli felt offended. Wasn’t he the one to hold the distinction as the father you’d like to… copulate… with? You always made such flustering remarks every time he was out on a mission with you, putting him in circumstances that could leave him gasping for air, coming undone just from your comments that could leave any prudes fainting.

“Oh yeah, there’s a twink here too. Yanqing — he’s so adorable. You know I’m going to be all over him.”

The plethora of short men that you’ve showered with love and attention soon found themselves under attack. The threat of this… Yanqing suddenly breaking out in the surface. They hated the idea of someone else having your attention. As if it wasn’t already a pain to compete over you with others! It was always a battle with the short men (all except Aether, he knew he had a special place in your heart).

You hummed a little, kicking your legs and winced as you accidentally hit the legs of your computer desk. And while they knew it was wrong to see delight in your mild pain, it felt nice to see the cruel you get a little bit of punishment for your cruelty.

“Yeah no, I’m okay. Totally fine.” You hissed a little, opting to ride out the dull throb in your poor shin. “Anyway, overall, really good. You know who I’m going after though? Jing Yuan and Blade. I have to. I need them in my life. I need them and I need to be inside them—” a loud laugh erupts from the back of your throat as you listened to your poor friend choke on air at your words, ignoring their scolding, completely oblivious to the tall men that found complete displeasure in your words.

It wasn’t all too savory to see their beloved overseer suddenly turn your back on them, as you continued to rant away about the characters. Even the women that you took care of, and the children you’ve coddled were dragged into the mess, whining about someone named Kafka? Someone that the Shogun suddenly found herself narrowing her eyes at. You dare speak of other women on the day you said you’d visit her in her plane of Euthymia? Especially after surviving your mumbles about someone named Raiden Mei? Absolutely preposterous.

Your poor daughters wilted as you uttered about Bailu, gushing about her adorable face and wanting to protect her. Does that mean you’re giving up on protecting them? You seemed so hellbent on this new kid… oh, how it breaks their heart to be replaced by someone they considered as a parental figure…

And the endeared traveler in your heart grew anxious. Fear gnawed into the back of Aether’s mind as you shifted your attention to another character.

“Then there’s the trailblazer. Much like the traveler, you can also pick a guy or a girl. Of course I picked the guy, you know I’m already so, so weak for these tropes.” You turned back into the monitor and Aether watched in bated breath, now wishing that he wasn’t in the sidelines like always. He wanted to face you directly so you can see his heartbroken expression and perhaps take pity.

But your poor traveler could only listen to your words, “Yeah, I won’t say much. But he’s definitely interesting. I like him. A nice change, actually.” You laughed while Aether’s heart dropped to his stomach.

A nice change? What does that even mean? Were you implying that you were finally getting sick of him? That you no longer wanted to indulge him in your alone times together? Poor, poor Aether — how he wished to just break through the screen and drag you in their world.

For days, they’ve wanted to know what kept you away from them. But somehow finding out the reason only brought regret and bitterness. You almost forgot to spend time with them recently because you’re acting as an overseer in another world? Just how cruel can you get? You promised yourself to them the moment you swore your devotion as their overseer and caretaker.

You were theirs! Why can’t you see that?! Going off to other worlds, hopping in to gaze at other undeserving people that are probably not even aware of your presence unlike them!

Suddenly, there was an air of stagnancy around Teyvat.

Surely there has to be a way to convince you, right? For you to keep your eyes to only them and them. To devote your time only for them. To spend most of your time just taking care of them. Surely there was a way to delete the other worlds, no?

They’ve waited on you long enough, dearest overseer.

They should hope that you wouldn’t protest in their acts of rebellion, right?

And besides, you love them with all your heart and soul! You said that! Declared it even and proved it with their decked out builds and weapons and maxed out friendships! If that was the case, then you wouldn’t mind finally meeting them, right?

Right?

You chatted to your friend away, suddenly oblivious to the way your screen glitched. To the way suddenly this beta testing game you’re overseeing also fighting back, surprisingly just as sentient as they are.

There was a war brewing between these beloved pixels of yours. And hopefully you can appreciate just how much they will fight for the top place in that heart of yours.

#genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin sagau #sagau #idk either help #jhuzen’s stupid one shots

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starrystevie · 1 year

Text

everything is hazy and maybe it's from the sticky sweet smoke of the joint they're sharing, but the thick tennessee humidity isn't helping matters. the night air feels heavy, clinging to their bare arms and foreheads like laying in quicksand, and it makes it hard for things to feel light. it all feels important, from the blades of grass in the field tickling the backs of eddie's knees as he lays propped up on his elbows to the stars shimmering above them to the sounds of nature chirping them a love song in time with his heartbeat.

"y'know," eddie starts, turning to look at steve by dropping his head to the side. the rusted arm of the lawn chair steve's sitting in creaks as the side of his head rests against the metal. the sudden motion makes the earth tilt on it's axis but sometimes that's what looking at steve just does to him. "the mountains here are old."

steve snorts out a laugh and drops a hand onto the top of eddie's head. his hand pushes through the curls for the briefest of seconds and eddie waits, wanting steve to keep his hand there, but then he's moving eddie's head to lean against his knee instead. it feels more like a win than he expects it to. "yeah, all mountains are old, man. how high are you?"

"no, steve, these-" eddie opens his arms wide to the appalachias in front of him and ignores the sharp pang of homesickness in his chest at the view. "-are older than fucking bones. they're older than saturn's rings. they-"

steve's hand returns to his curls and it stalls him. the homesick feeling that made a place in his chest warms up to nostalgia and hope and his head is filled of images of he and steve doing this again for years to come. images of them as older men, and maybe they're together and maybe they aren't, but they come back to the old plot of land he grew up on and smoke better weed and have a few beers and feel young and maybe in love again.

"it's kinda magical to think about. that these mountains that aren't nearly as impressive as the fucking rockies or somethin' have the coolest history. like, there are caves up there with zero fuckin' fossils because they were formed before invertebrates. and no one gives 'em the time of day just cause they aren't like peak skiing conditions or whatever. it's bullshit."

they fall into silence and before eddie can let himself over think about oversharing, steve's fingers linger on the side of his temple, tap a little beat before stilling. "you're accent comes out when you're excited."

eddie's face flushes and he hopes steve can't feel the heat under his fingertips. he can feel himself freeze, ready to laugh off this whole thing as being too high off his shitty weed or too tipsy from the beers or the general intoxication that comes from seeing steve fucking harrington sitting in his mom's shitty old folding chair with his mountains as the backdrop. but then steve's fingers start petting over his head again and all the noise between his ears fades away.

"i like your accent," steve whisper. eddie can barely hear it over the crickets. "it's cute."

eddie lifts his head up, risks a glance at steve and sees a matching blush to his own. it's right that the mountains are there to witness it, he thinks, as steve's hand cups his cheek and pulls him up so his knees dig into the dewy grass. they have as much of a home in his chest as steve does, it's about time they get properly acquainted.

#don't be surprised if this sort of scene comes up in another fic im writing cause it's kind of the basis of one of my longer ones #have i written it yet? not really #but this will absolutely be the vibe of it #appalachian eddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #honestly don't get me started on the appalachian mountains because i WILL cry

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 8 days

Text

04/22/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Guz Khan; Samba Schutte; Nathan Foad; Rachel House; Happy Belated Non-Binary Parents Day!; Lesbian Visibility Week!; New Event's Calendar; Watch Parties; Fibre Arts Division; Uproar; Fan Spotlight: Cast Cards; Our Flag Means Slay; OFMD Colouring Pages; Our Flag Means Fanfiction Podcast; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= Guz Khan =

Guz Khan's landed in L.A.! If you're in the Los Angelos Area, you can still get tickets to see him at The Regent for April 24!

= Samba Schutte =

Samba sending out some love for Earth Day!

= Nathan Foad =

More dashing photos of Nathan Foad in Love's Labours Lost

Img Src: @saritagabony's IG

= Rachel House =

More BTS Pics of Rachel and the kids from The Mountain! Can't wait to see this come to the US! @temaungafilm Instagram Page

== Non Binary Parents Day! ==

Happy belated Non-Binary Parents Day! Sorry luvs I missed this yesterday! You are wonderful, you are valid, you are such a beautiful part of this world. Thank you for all you do for all the kiddos out there, yours or otherwise. Whether you go by Zaza, Per, Muddy, Bibi, or any other of the number of non-binary parent names out there, we love you my dears. <3

Img SRC: Art by Veya

== Lesbian Visibility Week! ==

Today is the first day of Lesbian Visibility Week! We see you lovelies! Each and every one if you is valid, and are a shining star that fill up the skies. Where would we be without stars? We love you dearies!

Img Src: Trans World Of Queer Shitposting Facebook Page

== New Events Calendar ==

The Save OFMD Crew's Even Schedule is Up! Monday and Tuesday are focused on the Fiber Arts Brigade! They're looking for artists to join/donate and or share your work!

Check out Saveofmdcrewmates Tumblr Post for more deets!

== Watch Parties ==

Short Poppies is on the docket this week, and so are a few filler episodes of other smaller roles our favorite Captain has been in!

When: Tuesday April 23, 2024, at 3:30 pm PT / 6:30 pm ET / 10:30 pm GMT

What: We'll be watching A Series of Unfortunate Events Episode 7, and Short Poppies Episode 2!

Looking for where to watch?

Short Poppies - Amazon Prime

A Series of Unfortunate Events - Netflix

Don't have access? Hit me up here at @gentlebeardsbarngrill over dm, or @/AspirantAbby42 on twitter for more info.

= Palm Royal Season 1 =

Episodes 5 & 6 this Thursday April 25: 1 pm PT, 4 pm ET, 9 pm BST

via @lcwebsxoxo on Twitter!

#PalmRoyale

#OurFlagMeansDeath

#SaveOFMD

== Fibre Arts Brigade ==

On June 14th the Save OFMD Fibre Arts Brigade will be holding an online auction to benefit SAGE (an Advocacy & Services Non Profit for LGBTQ+ Seniors)! If you'd like to donate OFMD themed textiles to the auction, hop on over to their Donation Page Src: Saveofmdcrewmates Tumblr Post

== Uproar ==

Uproar is finally coming out on digital & on demand tomorrow 04/23/2024!

Img Src: @/blue_fox_entertainment's Instagram

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Our fabulous crewmate @melvisik has done it again, one more addition to the cast cards! Brett O' Gorman plays the captain "to whom Stede gifted the red suit (which was definitely NOT cursed...)"!

= Our Flag Means Slay =

Only 5 days left to get tickets for the Our Drag Means Slay Livestream! All proceeds go to charity!

Get your tickets here!

== OFMD Colouring Pages ==

More fun colouring pages by @patchworkpiratebear! Thank you so much for designing all these lovely, I've printed several off and my son and I are working on them throughout the week!

== Our Flag Means Fanfiction Podcast ==

The Lore of the Ring Episode is finally here! Special context from Alex Sherman! You can listen on Spotify or Apple Music, link below!

Img Src: Our Flag Means Fanfiction's IG

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. I hope your Monday wasn't too crazy! I'm gonna keep it short tonight because I am nodding off.

I know sometimes we do things when we're not feeling very well that we regret. I know sometimes we get so far progress wise, but then we revert a little bit because the day was just too much. Sometimes we even say or do things that hurt others, even if we don't mean to, but it happens.

Just remember lovelies that that doesn't make you a bad person.

We all make mistakes. We are all human, and none of us are infallible.

You are going through so much. You are dealing with the stressors of the day, of the week, of the year, of the country, of the global climate, hell you're dealing with the stressors of keeping you and your loved ones fed, and clothed and sheltered, or maybe you're dealing with a physical ailment.

Whatever it is, you're dealing with A LOT. We all have bad days.

Making mistakes is how we grow. Give yourself some grace lovelies, you deserve grace too.

Anyway, that's enough out of me, goodnight crew, I hope your dreams are sweet, and your rest is full.

Other People's Love Notes: @realyogibryan IG / @/michellcclark

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Idk what tonight's theme is. We watched the Guy Mann episode of X-Files and I just really wanted to add him to tonight's recap. Gifs Courtesy of @fandomsmeantheworldtome and @romantoy

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nature-hiking · 1 year

Photo

Stars, the matterhorn, and a lake - Alpine Haute Route, July 2021

photo by: nature-hiking

#starscape #matterhorn #alps #landscape #nature #alpine mountain lake #star filled skies over the mountains #mountains #AHR #Alpine Haute Route #long distance trail #wilderness #hiking #trekking #photography #original photography #photographers on tumblr #AHR 2021

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curiositydooropened · 4 months

Text

Late Checkout • Teaser

The cursor blinked.

A writing retreat at an exclusive 5-star ski resort. A New Years Eve party in the moody lodge bar. A handsome heir. A bratty bad boy. A snowstorm blocking every guest from the outside world.

Pairing: Rich!Steve Harrington x Writer!Reader, Eddie Munson x Writer!Reader

Wordcount: 1328

Warnings and Tags: Modern AU, femme!reader, strangers to lovers, angst, smut, voyeurism, fantasizing, longing, isolation, snowstorm, skiing, writer's block, murder, blood, gore, recreational drug and alcohol use. This is an 18+ blog, minor DNI please and thank you. Please check chapters for further warnings.

Navigation • Masterlist

Fic Masterlist • Moodboard

---

Your thoughts drifted back out to the veranda. Sun poured over the mountain side and bounced off stark white snow. Golden rays cast down and carded through his chestnut hair. Your fingers ached.

He tilted his face into it, eyes closed, lashes fluttering freckled cheeks, ecstasy evident as his features softened.

You licked your bottom lip.

The woman with him reached for his cheek and procured an eyelash, holding her finger skyward.

His eyes opened, amber and honey. A smile pulled at the corners of his pink lips before he pursed them to blow. His cheeks puffed up and hollowed, dotted with freckles, bone structure immaculate. Wish sufficiently made, his face lit in amusement, brows raised.

What did man like him wish for? He had the money, the looks. You hadn’t seen his car in the lot, but you were sure it was as luxuriously as the parka stretched over broad shoulders. The woman by his side was stunning, a Scandinavian supermodel with legs and curves for days.

So what was it then?

He swirled his glass in an ungloved hand, tips of his fingers reddening as he brought the amber liquid to his pink lips for a drink. What did a man with mid-afternoon Scotch wish for? Maybe he wished to bag a new account at the firm. Maybe he wished for his offer to go through for that rental on the Cape. Maybe he wished for his secretary to wear that YSL skirt again, with those pantyhose he could tear off with his perfect teeth.

You sputtered a cough, accidentally inhaling some of the saliva filling your mouth. Face warm, you mopped at the corners of your lips with a sweater cuff.

At your bistro table, your laptop screen had gone to stand-by. With a sigh, you clicked the track pad until the screen revived. On the blank page, the cursor blinked.

“You done with your coffee?” A busgirl approached, cheeks pinched pink and a smile across freckled features.

“Oh,” you handed her your mug and saucer. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” she nodded, and you were surprised when she leaned in. She smelled of espresso and vanilla. “Hey, this guy in the corner? The cute one with the man bun and the leather jacket? He paid me a really big tip to give you this,” she slipped a drink napkin in front of you.

Beneath the lodge’s bright orange logo were chicken scratched letters in black ink.

I hope the novel you’re working on has a better ending.

“He also offered to buy you another drink,” the barista informed, taking in your reaction with wide eyes. “But if you’re totally disgusted, I will be more than happy to call security and get his ass escorted right out of here.”

You snorted and glanced over your laptop at the far corner of the room. Your Critic from the previous day sat in his same corner, long limbs draped over the sides of the furniture like he he lived there. Slender hands folded the spine of a new novel, decorated in silver rings. His curls were pulled up into a loose bun, exposing a prominent widow’s peak, and a playful smile pulled at the corners of plump lips.

“You don’t need to kick him out,” you smiled, crumpling the napkin into your discarded mug in her hand. The last drops of coffee soaked into the paper. “But tell you what. Why don’t you and your coworker buy yourself lunch on his dime? I’ll double his tip.”

“You got yourself a deal,” she flashed a grin and made her way back behind the counter.

You went about closing your laptop and packing your things into your bag, avoiding the gaze on you from across the room. Zipper zipped, you schlepped the bag over one shoulder, adjusting your sweater beneath the strap. Your table was cleared, save the pen you capped. When you finally looked up to leave the little cafe, you found yourself leveled under a honeyed stare.

Mr. Harrington, the handsome stranger on the veranda, had noticed you through the window. Well that, or the windows were tinted enough to capture his attention, and judging by the darkening of his eyes and the soft smile etching itself onto the corners of his perfect lips, he enjoyed his own reflection. He waved, almost imperceptibly, and mouthed a hello.

You smiled and nodded.

Then, the women he brought with him came into view, all freckles and blue eyes, stunning, full lips.

You turned on your heel and left before you had a chance to wither under her scrutiny, staring at the orange and cream hexagonal tile as you walked through the threshold and back into the lobby.

“Hey,” another voice startled you, impossibly close, the sting of cigarette smoke mixing with espresso in the air.

“So the last book inspired you after all.” You sighed, halting before a head-on collision with a family of seven.

“What?” Your critic crashed into you, capturing your shoulders in large hands to stop you both from barreling into the last set of twins.

You huffed him off with a shrug. “The Vanishing was about a stalker.”

“Oh,” he flashed that charming grin of his, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “How do I know you aren’t stalking me?”

You snorted and swept past the convenient store, the pro shop, narrowly avoided a sled dog near the exit to the veranda. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Your stalker barked a laugh and managed to trail you past the bar and ballrooms and into the back hallway. “Alright, sweetheart, you caught me. I’ve been following you for weeks.”

You stopped in front of the resort gym. Two middle aged women chatted on ellipticals in matching leggings. “What?”

He didn’t seem like the usual incel fan of yours. They were less clean, less put-together. The ones who managed to weasel your real name and location through hours of research on the dark web usually showed up to a local coffee shop and sent a text message to your laptop from a restricted number.

This guy had a charcoal sweater made of cashmere and designer cologne. His jacket smelled of real leather. You spotted the glint of a silver watch beneath one sleeve.

The Cheshire Cat grin fell from his face when your reaction sunk in, and he shook his head, eyes going wide. “I’m totally kidding. That’s probably creepy and terrifying, I’m sorry. I promise I’m not stalking you. I don’t even know your name.”

Instead of offering it, you turned and headed back down the hall.

“Hey, okay. My name’s Eddie,” he scrambled to catch up, all the bells and whistles jangling on his leather jacket, “and if you want me to leave you alone, I swear I will. But if you’d be at all interested in letting me buy you a drink tonight, can you let me know? Because I’m scaring the spa receptionists.”

You glanced at the two girls behind the nearest desk. They giggled behind their hands.

“I’m sorry I insulted your favorite book.” Eddie’s voice softened.

With a sigh, you tucked yourself into a nearby alcove. “It’s not my favorite.” You’d published a handful of others you liked better, all of them less popular.

“Well what is your favorite?” The smile slid itself back onto his features. He remained a few paces away, giving you a respectable amount of space.

You weighed your options. You’d planned evening room service and sweatpants and drafting, endless drafting. Or, you could let someone else pay for your martini, and maybe his refreshing (albeit rude) perspective on your library of work could spark some much needed inspiration.

“I’ll tell you over drinks tonight.”

“8 o’clock?”

Your stomach flipped at the proud look on his face, and you nodded.

“See you then, princess.” He bowed so low his bun flopped, and he backed out of the alcove, wagging fingers at the giggling spa receptionists. He whistled as he left.

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington teaser #eddie munson fic #eddie munson teaser #late checkout fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #steve harrington angst #eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader

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gaysindistress · 7 months

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Blue Star & a Coyote in love

Pairing: shifter!Bucky x Native American!reader

Summary: Ever the trickster, the coyote shifter named Bucky has fallen hopelessly in love with a woman who will never share his affection.

Warnings: I didn't mean for this to get dark but here we are. violence, death, bucky being Joe Goldberg in the worst way, blood.

Word count: 2.7k

A/n: ahh this is so different from anything else I've posted! I hope that everyone loves it and let me know if anyone wants more of Blue Str and Coyote Bucky.

It's important to note that this is a dark retelling/twist of Native myths about Coyote and that means the reader is Native as are most other characters aside from Bucky. He isn't Native in the MCU and I will not write him as if he were, however, he does take on Coyote the trickster's persona. Coyote is known to go to extreme lengths to get what he wants so to me, it makes sense for him to appear as a white man (aka Bucky) when he wishes.

permanent tag list: @vonalyn @hidden-treasures21 @cakesandtom

gaysindsitress masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest.

Night after night, day after day, dance after dance, the man others called Coyote yearned for me. When the deep red skies and yellow sun gave way to the brilliant blue night sky, he would wait for my sisters and I to emerge. In a clearing, he would lay on his back to admire the way we danced and laughed throughout the night. Never did he try to reach for us or call to us although I knew he wanted to.

I could feel it in the heavy stare that stayed on my back each night. I could see it in the way his lips would part in amazement when I danced alone. I could see it in the way his pale blue eyes twinkled when I looked at him.

My sisters would giggle amongst themselves as we danced across the sky. They’d say things like “once again the blue star outshines us all” or “the coyote has fallen for you, blue star” but it was all in good fun. I knew they did not envy the affection he showed me. He was the Coyote after all, the famed trickster that everyone knew of. He had brought fire, among other things, to earth but also brought the first lie. He had been the hero for some and the great villain to others. He was not a man…no… creature to be trusted so his apparent interest in me didn’t mean anything to me.

All it did was bring me worry and concern when one night he was no longer laying on his back in the clearing.

I freeze when I don’t see him and it causes one of my sisters to fall into me.

“Blue star,” she starts, ready to rip into me for halting our dance but she too freezes when she sees what I saw, “he’s gone?”

I look at her over my shoulder, “he can’t be.”

“Can’t be? Have you grown fond of the trickster?”

“No,” I shake my head as strands of hair that escaped from my two braids blow into my face, “no he is there every night. If he is gone, I fear something must have happened.”

My sister, Yellow Star, rolls her eyes, “to him?”

“No,” I say again, growing frustrated that she is not hearing what I am saying, “I…I don’t know but it’s not good.”

Another sister, our eldest, motions for us to carry on and follow the rest towards the mountain we pass each night. We follow but I keep looking towards the empty clearing as we return to our dancing. A deep unease fills my body as the heavy fabric of my dancing robe bounces around me. The fringe at the bottom hits my legs as if to tell me to “keep moving, keep dancing, forget the Coyote” and I obey.

My sisters are dressed in cream robes with various animals weaved onto their backs. Only I am dressed in a robe made of blues weaved to mimic the night sky however I don’t blend in. Instead I become a shining star for all those to follow when lost at night. My robes and dance give hope to those who cannot find their way. I provide comfort to strangers and family alike as we take our place in the sky.

Soon I forget the dread that has filled my stomach and again I’m laughing with my sisters, twirling and stomping through the clouds. We reach the mountain before I realize and I smile widely at the sight, my sisters sharing a similar look. We descend towards the mountain peak when our youngest sister, Pink Star, lets out a scream of terror. The eldest few race to her, yanking her from the clutches of an unseen force. She cries as she holds her leg, blood spilling from the torn flesh. They surround her as we all land on the mountain and search for the thing responsible.

The dread in my stomach has reached my throat, clasping down with a phantom hand. My feet move without my approval and I find myself walking away from the group, towards the creature that lurks beyond the trees.

Yellow Star grabs my shoulder and gently pulls me back. She gives me a worried look as my eyes stay focused on the tree line.

“I can feel it too,” she whispers to me, “he’s here.”

As if even uttering that calls him, the Coyote’s yellow eyes flash in the black space between the trees. His light footsteps turn heavy and those yellow eyes morph into the pale blue eyes I’ve memorized. He looks like a human aside from the elongated fingers where claws lurk and pointed ears that hide beneath his shaggy brown hair. Dressed in all black, he blends in with the darkness around him no matter how brightly we may shine. A shutter races through my body when we lock eyes and a smirk grows across his face.

“What do you want?” My eldest sister, White Star, sneers at him as the others attempt to help the youngest.

He doesn’t answer or even acknowledge her, his focus entirely on me. Yellow Star steps in front of me as two more of our sisters do the same. His eyes narrow at the action but he finally turns to look at White Star. She asks him again? “What do you want, trickster?”

He rolls his eyes at the name, “you’ll need to try harder if you want to insult me.”

Pink Star cries out again when someone ties a cloth around her leg and White Star snaps her full attention to him. She moves with grace as she stalks towards him, hands balled tightly into fists as she comes face to face with him.

Well face to chest as he stands nearly three heads taller than her.

He merely glances down his nose at her, “what do I want?”

Bending down so he can truly be face to face with her, he says to her, “I want your sister.”

“My sister?”

His piercing eyes flicker over her shoulder to where I’m surrounded, “That is what I said.”

“No.”

He looks back to her, a brief moment of surprise flickering across his face, “No? I wasn’t asking for your permission, I was telling you. She belongs to me and I want her.”

“No. She is not yours. You cannot have her.”

He brings one hand up to grab her face, the claws finally making their appearance, “I was being kind with the youngling. I won’t offer the same treatment for you or the others if you don’t give me what I want.”

White Star‘s anger seems to morph in a calm and collected facade as she leans into him, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you. The answer is no, now and for eternity. No you cannot take her.”

I can feel the growl rumbling through his chest before I hear it and I let out my own scream as his hand drops to her throat. We all gasp and cry out as her body falls to the cold ground and he stands with her windpipe in his hand. He makes a show of dropping it and wiping the blood off on the fabric of his pants. The black fabric greedily drinks in the blood and there is not even a wet spot where it once was.

The Coyote looks between her body and us, “unless you want to join your sister in the spirit world, I suggest you give me what I want.”

No one speaks and he rolls his eyes again as the claws from the other hand come out.

“Give me Blue Star and I’ll even let you take the body,” he grinds out between clenched teeth.

Yellow Star is the one brave enough to speak, “You’ve killed one of us and almost killed another but yet you expect us to obey you? Even you should know better than that, Coyote.”

He sizes her up, taking in her tall and broad form. She had always been the strongest one of us all but always the most kind hearted. His eyes flicker to where the smaller White Star lies and then to where the young Pink Star is safely tucked behind more of our sisters. Her cries have stopped but dry tears stick to her brown face and her eyes pink to like her name, are trained on him.

“I don’t feel like playing games or solving riddles today,” he warns while stepping over White Star and towards us, “I also don’t want to repeat myself anymore.”

The two sisters who are standing at my side gently tug me back as Yellow Star walks to meet him. A few of the older ones join her but the rest come to surround Pink Star and I. My own tears have stopped falling and now rage fills my body as I look wildly between the inevitable bloodshed in front of us and the women around me.

“Green Star,” I beg the woman to my right, “we can’t let them fight. It’s me that he wants, let me handle this.”

Her green eyes are full of sadness and despair as she searches my face.

“No,” she finally says before wrapping her hand around my bicep. I try to yank it away but another sister, Purple Star, grabs the other. She gives me a pointed look causing the two lines that stretch downwards under both eyes to go taunt.

“Don’t,” She tells me and drags me back.

His voice pulls out attention back to him, “Come to me, my blue star.”

Both of us go still.

He’s calling me.

My sisters’ eyes burn into either side of my face as my mind races and I desperately try to come up with something, anything to say.

“You have ten seconds before I rip all of their throats out,” he calls again and it grows more clear that we may not have another choice.

Yellow Star puts a large hand to stop him, “Do not come any closer.”

“Stop me then,” he snarls at her while stalking closer like a predator readying to attack its prey and when she makes no such move, he pushes, “I will take what is mine and you cannot stop me.”

I can see the claws itching to find a home in her neck and the violent image of all my sisters ending up like White Star makes me ill. It seems as though the two holding me are also lost in their head and I manage to pull myself out of their grasp. Stumbling past them and the wall of others before me, I break through and nearly fall. Everyone’s eyes are now on me, waiting for my next move but I have nothing. I’ve come up with nothing but simply handing myself over to save them.

A wildly stupid plan and the senselessness of it is only amplified by the grin that’s spread across the Coyote’s face. Yellow Star looks at me in quiet horror.

A mistake she instantly pays for.

One clawed hand slashes across her chest and neck and she staggers backwards, her eyes wide with fear and surprise. A choked sob breaks from my mouth and I launch myself to catch her as she falls to the ground. Cradling her against my chest, I mummer every kind and comforting word that I can think of. I refuse to look at the damage on her chest, too afraid to acknowledge that it might be fatal. From anyone or anything else, she would survive but those claws are sharper and stronger. They find their target no matter how quickly their victim is and unfortunately for my sister, she was too distracted by me to guess his next move.

“My blue star,” he says with all the affection and tenderness in the world, “come here.”

The sickly sweet drawl in his voice entices me to follow his orders but his actions have me rooted in my place with my dying sister on my lap.

His blue eyes are replaced with the yellow of his animal form while another snarl rips through his chest and as my sister’s last breath leaves hers. Hot tears flood my eyes as I stare at her still chest but I tear them away to look at him. Waves of anger and frustration roll off of him as we make eye contact again. His soften for a moment when I finally look at him but mine harden all the more at the monster before me. He goes to take another step towards me, now only a few feet from me but I stop him.

“You’ll kill them all if I refuse?”

“Yes,” he doesn't hesitate with his answer.

“And if I go, will you let them go free?”

“Yes.”

I look down to my sister. The bright yellow of her eyes has faded as she stares up at the night sky where we had danced only moments ago. I look to White Star and I swear that I see a tear fall from her snow white eyes. Behind me, I can feel the pain and sadness that fills my sisters as they watch us. I can feel the sheer heart break that no doubt washes over their faces as I gently lift Yellow Star from my lap and place her on the ground. Placing a chaste kiss to her forehead, I ask the spirits to welcome my sisters with open arms and full hearts. No one speaks or moves as I get to my feet and face the Coyote in his trickster glory.

He extends a hand out for me to take, those terrible claws no longer in sight. The pale blue eyes have returned and for a moment, I forget that I’m not looking at any normal man. For a moment, I forget the carnage he leaves in his wake or the blood that stains every inch of his sun kissed skin. I forget that this man has murdered my sisters and would have murdered them all if given the chance.

For a moment, I feel safe as I take his hand in mind but the small cries of Pink Star behind me bring me back to reality. Sensing that I’ll back away and run towards safety, he nearly crushes my hand and drags me towards him. Whatever safety I might have felt is only a figment of my imagination, a cruel trick he used to convince me to come to him.

The hand that held mine has moved to wrap around my waist so that I can’t move from his chest. The other grips my chin and his thumb trails over the three vertical lines there. The action sends a shiver through my body but I force myself to keep still and keep my eyes trained on his face.

He dips his head down and his lips brush over my cheek as he whispers into my ear, “Finally my blue star. I’ve waited for you for far too long and now you’re mine.”

Whatever words I might have had are lost and he smirks at my silence. Drawing away, he orders my sisters to leave and tells them that they may take the bodies. His bruising hold doesn’t let up as I hear them scramble to grab our fallen sisters and dash towards the skies. Only when they are gone and we are alone does he let me have a few inches of space but only to grip my chin again.

“What is your name?” he asks as he nuzzles against my hair, taking deep breaths as if I calm the storm inside of him.

My hesitation frustrates him and the hand on my chin falls to my throat. He pulls back enough to be nose to nose with me.

“Tell me your name.”

“Y/N,” I gasp as the hand grows tighter and the claws dip into the soft skin.

“Y/N,” he repeats and grins. He says it again while his eyes flutter close and he nuzzles against me again.

“Y/N, my blue star.”

My own eyes flutter close as his unspoken threat seeps into my heart. If it is freedom that I crave, it will be his heart that I need to carve out.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #shifter Bucky #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes reader insert #Native American! reader #indigenous!reader #north Native American!reader

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tired-reader-writer · 23 days

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Putting the drabble(?) under a read-more because I don't feel so confident in this one. This was just supposed to be an excuse and vehicle for the solar eclipse and the Pilgrim's Bells ringing so if all the other parts sound jank, that is why!

I apologize for this 😭

The sun blinks.

Hilmes stills.

The sun shines unwaveringly, bright and blinding. Clouds may block it, mist may dim it, and the skies may bring it to rest every dusk.

But the sun does not blink.

It goes against every common sense, the very nature of the sun, but—

It blinks, now.

It blinks and blinks, dims and lights up and dims again like a star, the rays almost blinding in contrast when the light returns.

Until it doesn't.

From the sky, vanish the sun's light.

The air turns cold, and shadows dance around them, like a heat haze, like a mirage, and the malformed creatures halt to look at them. As if captured. As if mesmerized.

Zahhak halts.

The moon, realizes Hilmes. It's the moon, the moon devouring the sun, the moon granting them a boon. A celestial of the night, entering the sun's domain.

The sky children.

He looks at the sword in his hand. Glowing silver, starlight on the earth.

Rukhnabad was forged from a fallen star.

He can move again, he finds. Where before he and his army were frozen by the Serpent King's snare, the moon has lifted the pressure from their mortal bodies— it drops like a rock, and in turn the lack of weight lifts them up.

He feels light. He feels as though he could float away.

He raises the sword, Rukhnabad, jabs it upwards to the sky like a beacon, a guiding light, a breath of hope in place of the sun.

“Hark ye, mages and riders!” he cries out, his voice returning to him at last. “Arise, arise! The wretched snake's curse has lifted!”

A collective cry answers him, relief and hope blends one voice to the other until he can no longer tell which voice was whose, and how many there remained.

It is fine. It's enough.

“Endure, we must! Prevail, we must! Zahhak has been defeated once, he will be brought down once again! By us, by our hands!”

He thinks of Kaykhusraw. The hero-king. The slave. The traitor.

His ancestor.

“And we have with us, what the hero king never did! The key to end this, once and for all!” More like what he foolishly threw away, but this is not the place to say it. I won't do it, he swears to himself. I will not selfishly discard what should be dear to me. Zandeh and Irina flash in his mind at once, but also Kharlan and Saam and Bahman, his followers, his men, all of them, even the ones whose names he knows not.

The mages.

The little bird.

Areyan.

“Remember your brother and sisters. Remember that aid is coming.”

The sound of bells shall reverberate, sang to him the old crone, Break the heavens like dawn over the mountains.

“The promise shall be fulfilled…” The promise of victory, no doubt they would think, there is that too, but his mind dwells on the promise of freedom.

The promise Kaykhusraw broke.

And true tomorrow shall arrive again.

“But for that—” He points Rukhnabad forward, lightning trailing behind it in a dance, casting the shifting shadows in a starker light. “For that we must fulfill our role. Remember! Remember what it is that we set out to do! Remember the work that needs to be done!”

There's so much. There's so much to be done. Here and now, against Zahhak the Serpent King, but also beyond that, beyond everything, even when peace is restored.

The work will be never-ending.

He can't wait to get to it.

He can't help the feral grin that graces his lips.

The sun starts to blink again. The eclipse is about to end.

They need to act fast.

“Loose the arrows! Clear a path so that the second squad can bind Zahhak. We must hold on until—”

That is when the bells ring.

The song, it comes from beyond the horizon, from the east, west, north, and south, around them, all around them, filling the air and overlapping, amplifying each other until naught could be heard over them—

The sky laughs and laughs and laughs.

Like an echo, like light, like dawn breaking over the mountain peaks and thunder in a storm, ripples spreading across still-waters, the swaying of trees in the strong winds.

Like the world comes alive, like all spirits were a single soul made solid.

“Now, now!”

The mass of people spring into action. People, and spirits too. He feels them. They rush through them, past them, wading through the army of men as though they too were part of the charge, all the while the earth trembles and shakes beneath their feet and the sun flick-flick-flickers above in the sky.

And the sound of bells would not stop. He can scarcely hear his men's voice above it, can scarcely hear his own heart.

Well, that is fine.

He is not alone, that much he can tell.

Everyone is here. Even the ones he had sent away to find what had been lost.

They may not be here in flesh, in these plains where the battle takes place, but…

Undoubtedly, they are present nonetheless.

He loses himself in the ever-rising song as he rides forth, and drives the treasured sword in Zahhak's chest as ghosts unseen rend him asunder.

And then all is white.

The darkness is no more.

#arslan senki #the heroic legend of arslan #heroic legend of arslan #wolfpack au #winds of wolfsong #rotten egg's shitty writing #hilmes #zahhak #the bells THE BELLS #this took quite a while to write #this is NOT edited at all it's a first draft hahahahaha

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wordywarriorwrites · 11 months

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Calendar Girl: August

Series Masterlist: Calendar Girl Joel Miller Masterlist Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: The story of how Joel Miller falls in love again, told over a series of months. Series Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language. Violence. Discussions of rape and consent. Alcohol consumption. Age-gap.

August

“Sweetheart,” Joel groaned lowly as he craned his head into your touch.

You laughed as you worked the soap into a lather, “Feel good?”

He would have given you an emphatic, resounding yes, but you chose that moment to dig your thumbs into the overgrown hair behind his ears, and all that came out of his mouth was a series of hedonistic sounds that bounced off the kitchen sink basin.

Summer in the Wyoming mountains meant days of clear skies and sunshine, and nights filled with stars and cool breezes. The climate was far gentler than the oppressive heat and humidity he had endured in Arlington and Boston, but still, Jackson had gotten hot enough for him to need a haircut.

The shampoo and scalp massage had ended far too soon for his liking, but since you had other appointments to get to, Joel kept his disappointment to himself. Seated in a chair with a towel draped across his shoulders, he told you what he preferred when it came to his unruly mane, and with that settled, you picked up your comb and scissors and got to work.

“Where’d you learn to do this?” he asked.

You hummed thoughtfully, “Made friends with a girl in my third – no, fourth QZ? She traded haircuts for cards. Learned from her. Kept me from starving when I moved onto the next place.”

He reached back and squeezed your leg, “Well, I’m grateful for it. Thank you, sweetheart.”

A careful sectioning. A snip, snip, snip. The comb clicked against the scissors on occasion, and as you continued, his head felt lighter and cooler. You’d nearly wrangled his hair into some semblance of submission when Ellie strode in, copped a squat, and threw what could only be described as the curveball of the century.

“You two ever think about moving in together?” she asked without preamble.

Joel jerked his head up. You pushed it back down. The question hung in the air while you tidied up his neck with the clippers, and the longer you remained silent on the subject, the more he squirmed. Eventually, you asked Ellie if she wanted you and Joel to move in together, and that made him hold his breath.

“It’s not up to me,” Ellie shrugged as she drummed her hands on the table. “But I suppose it would be better than doing the walk of shame at all hours of the day and night, right?”

You snorted. Joel spluttered and demanded to know where she’d even heard the phrase, “walk of shame.” Ellie responded with a jut of her chin and a shit-eating grin, but remained mum. You also hadn’t answered the question, and he knew the kid wasn’t about to let the matter rest, but before he could even suggest a subject change, you spoke up.

“It’s only a walk of shame if you have something to be ashamed of,” you supplied.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Ellie agreed as she went to the sink, grabbed a glass from the drying rack, and filled it with water. “But you know, people have started to talk.”

“What people?” Joel challenged.

She ticked them off with a flick of her fingers, “My friends. Their parents. The guy who milks the cows on Thursdays. The woman who crochets blankets for everyone. You know, people.”

Joel could sense she was holding something back, and when you guided his head up, his eyes confirmed what his ears had already told him. Someone had run their mouth, and he would’ve pushed for details, but Ellie cut him off, and asked if you had time to give her a haircut, too.

“Just a trim,” she insisted. “Nothing crazy.”

“Yeah, I have time before the next one,” you replied. “Go wash your hair for me?”

Ellie nodded. Bounded away. You cleaned off the back of his neck and removed the towel from around his shoulders. After you emptied your hands, Joel snagged you around the waist, and pulled you down side-saddle onto his lap.

You smiled and squeezed his chin between your thumb and forefinger, “Handsome devil.”

Joel closed his eyes. Nuzzled his nose against yours. The kiss you pressed to his forehead was tender. The one you dropped on his mouth was softer still, and he blamed your kind, inviting eyes for the way he returned your affection. The back of your neck clasped in one hand and the other clamped around your outer thigh – he claimed your mouth with his own and would’ve gone on holding you tight and kissing you senseless had Ellie not been so damn fast to return.

“Seriously,” she scoffed. “You guys are so gross.”

He rolled his eyes and helped you off his lap. While you washed your comb and scissors, Joel swept the floor, and you were ready by the time he finished. Ellie sat down, and as the two of you went over the logistics of her preferred hair length, Joel rustled up lunch.

As he gathered ingredients and set about the task of making sandwiches, Ellie peppered you with questions about where you were from and your experiences in and outside of the several QZs you’d lived in. The conversation remained focused on seemingly innocuous subjects until it suddenly veered into an unrelated topic.

“How old are you?” she wondered as she picked at her fingernails.

Joel froze. Glanced up from the bread he’d been slicing. You aimed a wink his way and answered the question without reservation.

“I’m 28,” you supplied.

Joel lined up three plates. Dropped a slice on each. Applied peanut butter to all of them and started to add the preserves to the other pieces when Ellie piped up again.

“You’re 57, right, Joel?”

“Yeah,” he acknowledged.

“Do people ever say things to you guys?” she asked quietly.

Joel licked the blade of the knife clean, “Like what?”

“Like, that you shouldn’t be together?”

You placed a hand on her shoulder, “Is this about you and Charlotte? Because if anyone has said or done anything –”

“No, no, no,” Ellie interjected quickly “It’s not – it’s not that.”

“What’s it about, then?” he prompted.

When Ellie didn’t readily supply an answer, he put his hands on his hips, and looked at her expectantly. Joel had never known the kid to hem-and-haw. In fact, her blunt mouth had gotten her into more scrapes than he could count on both hands, and he was curious to know what was so bad that she couldn’t just spit it out.

“It’s okay,” you insisted gently. “You can tell us.”

She swallowed hard and rubbed her hands on her jeans, “I was walking Charlotte home last night and heard someone say your names.”

Joel motioned for her to continue, “And?”

“Something about old men and young snatch?” she blurted, eyes squeezed shut and head turned to the side. “And women with daddy issues?”

You exhaled loudly through your nose and refocused on Ellie’s hair. Joel paired blackberry and peanut butter and needlessly cut the sandwiches diagonally. After you declared you were finished, Ellie helped you clean up, and he put the plates on the table.

A lot of slow, silent chewing, coupled with furtive glances and gulps of water. Joel didn’t know how to address the situation because he’d never dated someone so much younger than him before, but he also wasn’t some ignorant dumbass with his head in the sand.

He expected people would have their opinions and supposed it had been foolish of him to hope they’d keep those opinions to themselves. Hell, once upon a time, he might’ve made the same, crude assumptions. A man with a woman half his age? It raised eyebrows and begged a lot of questions, but Joel had never given a damn about other people’s opinions.

What gave him pause – what made him debate the right and wrong of it – was that you’d be 40 when he turned 70. Assuming you didn’t wise up and move on, you’d be saddled with an old man who probably wouldn’t be able to go on a walk with you, let alone make love to you, take care of you, or protect you as you deserved.

“So, what should I do?” Ellie asked tentatively.

He grunted, “Tell ‘em to fuck off.”

You sighed and rested your elbows on the table, “Ellie, you don’t have to do or say anything. People are entitled to their opinions.”

“Not if their opinions are stupid,” Joel bit out lowly.

“It doesn’t matter if their opinions are stupid or not,” you argued. “We may not have any semblance of a constitution left, but I still believe in freedom of speech.”

“Freedom of speech doesn’t include freedom from consequences.”

“I agree with you, but it’s not Ellie’s job to defend us.”

He rolled his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest, “So, you don’t care? You don’t mind being insulted and disrespected like that?”

You got up, put your plate and glass in the sink, and snagged your bag from the table.

“I am a grown woman. I don’t have to justify myself to anyone,” you retorted as you headed for the side door. “If you wanna pick a fight with a bunch of ignorant assholes – have at it.”

Ellie scrambled from her seat, “Can I walk with you?”

You nodded. The door opened. Slammed shut. Joel sat there and wondered what the hell had just happened. Then, the door opened again. You stomped back in, kissed him hard on the mouth, and asked him not to get into a fight with a bunch of ignorant assholes.

“Please,” you implored as you kissed him again. “No fights. Promise me.”

Joel conceded. Promised. Lied.

Consequences.

Chapter 11: September

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fan fiction #tlou fan fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #wordywarriorwrite #calendar girl

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