#the feeling when the last light of durin's day hits

[con-clavi-con-jae]

Fields of Elation

Rating: explicit

Warning: implied and mentioned self-harm

Pairings: Vessel/II, Polyvessels

Also thanks Lia for beta reading this thing, ilysm <3

Some days, Vessel felt like death. Like he just wanted to claw at his insides and stop feeling. Days where not even Sleep Herself could get him out of his self-loathing. Usually on those days, he'd lock himself up in his room and write, anything to stop the urges to do something he'd regret later.

Today was one of those days.

It was a cold winter evening, the rain hit the old roof of the manor, the noise relaxing Vessel a bit. It was already dark outside, the only light being that of an almost consumed candle on Vessel's desk. Hours and hours passed since the last time the other vessels saw him, he made sure of it.

They were used to this. Not seeing Vessel for whole days. Still, as II finished serving the dinner he'd so carefully made, with no signs of his love, they worried. He could take Vessel's place in prayer, sure, that never bothered them. But even after all the years of being Vessel's friend, and his partner, they felt like nothing he could do was helping.

"This is a giving, an offering in your favour, a sacrifice in your name, but I know you've got a taste," II started their prayer, his voice unwavering as he hid his worry. As the oldest vessel, and Sleep's second, he tries to keep himself calm in front of the others.

"And the night comes down like heaven." The other vessels responded in unison, looking at each other, neither of them said a word but they knew what the other was thinking. And they were both worried.

III spoke up, squeezing IV's hand under the table, "sweetheart... where's Vessel? He's been gone all day," his voice was barely above a whisper, which was uncommon for the bassist. IV nodded, quietly pushing his food around on the plate.

II's heart broke at this, seeing his boyfriends so devastated... he had to do something about it, after they finished eating. For now, though, he looked up at III's eyes with concern and sighed, "I don't know, doll. I'm gonna go check up on him later..."

They had dinner in an uncomfortable silence, III comforting IV as he couldn't bring himself to say anything. II melted at this, and not in a good way. He knew how IV got when he was overwhelmed, fully unable to talk and needing someone, usually III, to take care of it. As he stood up to pick up the plates, III helping him out, II pet IV's hair softly to comfort him, "it's fine. Go to your room, Ivy. I'll put your offering on Sleep's altar for you," they went to the kitchen to leave everything and telling III to do the dishes before going up to Vessel's bedroom.

They knocked softly on the old wooden door, trying not to startle Vessel too much, "baby, are you in there? I'm coming in..." he heard the gentle sound of Vessel walking up to the door, but not opening it. II understood this, how could he not? He's been doing this for almost seven years, he knows how to deal with Vessel by now. But what he's never gonna get used to is the look behind Vessel's mask. His lover sat on the floor, next to the doorframe, and holding himself tightly. His eyes held a mix of fear and self-loathing that broke II's heart clean in half. They went to sit next to their love, comforting him without too much touching, as he knew that'd be a bit counterproductive. "Vessel, do you need to talk?"

Vessel shook his head, before resting it on II's shoulder. II understood this, so he caressed the man's hair, lovingly whispering comforting words to him. Vessel melted into the affection, yet he still felt something inside him scream that he didn't deserve it. He'd almost broken his promise to his lovers, and that just made him feel worse and want to give in even more. II noticed Vessel start to tremble, so they grabbed onto his wrist, "you're okay, sweet thing. I'm here. Let me take care of you, alright?" II's voice was quiet and comforting.

Vessel stayed quiet, preferring to keep the mask on during these episodes. II knew how his lover got these times, where he couldn't stand to see himself, needing something to ground him, so he didn't force it too much, even if he knew that seeing Vessel's face would make this easier. With Vessel, they always tried to take things slow. "Do you want to take a shower, baby?" Vessel nodded, standing up quickly and pulling II up with him. The shorter vessel made his way into the bathroom and turned on the warm water before taking his clothes off and silently asking for permission to do the same to Vessel. After he agreed, they made quick work of it, pulling his love in with them. II softly massaged Vessel's back as he rubbed the soap on it, a comforting movement that helped the tall man relax into the warmth of his partner's affection. He craved it, more than anything, but he still couldn't believe he deserved it...

"You're safe, sweet thing. You're with me, and I love you. III and IV love you too. You deserve to be safe." II whispered into the skin of Vessel's back as he left a soft kiss, and then went back to rinsing the soap off of him, "are you ready to tell me what happened this time?"

Vessel finally spoke up, his voice tired and raspy, broken from crying all day, "I don't want you to love me. I hurt people..."

Of course, that was it. II was still the only one that knew the details, everything that drove Vessel to Sleep in the first place. When they found out, everything clicked into place, and now he knew exactly what to do when Vessel goes through this. That doesn't mean it's any less painful to see the love of his life suffering so much.

"Ves, my love, listen to me," II started in a calm and stern, yet loving voice, "do you think that if I was hurt, I wouldn't tell you?" Another thing, Vessel needed very direct communication, much like II and sometimes IV as well. Vessel nodded subtly, grabbing onto II's hand for grounding. "Words, darling. I need you to speak to me."

"You would..." the taller man agreed, his voice still quiet. It's true, and Vessel knew this. "But what if you don't notice it? What if I hurt you guys, and you never know until it's too late?"

"In that case, we'll see what happens. But for now, we're all safe. We're together in the shrine of our Goddess, and we're protected by Her, and by each other." II motioned for Vessel to sit on the edge of the bathtub and grabbed the bottle of shampoo he knew was Vessel's favorite, squeezing some on their hand and gently spread it on his lover's scalp and hair, "do you trust us?" He asked calmly.

"I trust you..." Vessel admitted, and he wanted to cry. Cry at II's soft touch. Cry at their closeness and the way his partner handled him with so much care, he felt fragile, but he liked it... usually, Vessel hated feeling fragile. But for II... that was just the type of relationship they had, and he cherished that just as much as he cherished all his lovers. He thinks back at them, were III and IV thinking about him? They probably were. He was comforted in that thought.

He was dragged out of his head by II's fingertips touching his neck in a certain way... it made him shiver and let out a soft sound, "honey... please..."

II removed his hand, chuckling at Vessel's reaction as they kneeled down to kiss him, "someone's been missing me, huh?" He teased, but they didn't want to push this too much. With how Vessel was feeling right now, it was too much too quickly. Still, he felt his lover pull their hand to his chest. Vessel got like this often, II knew that. But he still felt so guilty. "Ves, baby, not now. You've been down all day, I don't want to hurt you." His words were kind even as he tried to scold Vessel, he just couldn't treat that man coldly if he tried...

Vessel let out a soft whine, but nodded anyway as he let II rub the soap all over his body. II, admittedly enticed by the sound, sighed and gave Vessel another kiss, deeper this time as they held on to his small waist, "you really need it, don't you?" He asked in a warm tone, and Vessel nodded. "I need you to talk to me for this, baby." II never wanted to do anything like this if Vessel didn't feel like speaking. Because then they knew Vessel wouldn't be able to tell him to stop.

Vessel shivered at this, and replied with a deep sigh, "yes, honey... I need this so much. Please, I just don't want to think," he begged in a soft but desperate voice. All his time away from his lovers, and from anyone really, it made Vessel start to loose himself, and he needed someone to touch him, to prove he was still real, and shut his mind up.

II gave him a soft peck on the lips, going back to spreading the soap all over his body, "alright then, sweet thing, if you tell me what happened this time, I'll give you a little reward, alright?"

Vessel nodded, taking in a deep breath as he tried to recount what had happened to him that morning. He couldn't. He didn't know what he felt other than dying... but looking into II's eyes calmed him down and helped him think a little bit straighter. "I'm tired of feeling like I don't deserve this..."

"Like you don't deserve what exactly?"

"Anything." Vessel sighed, tightly holding onto II as he tried to take deep breaths, "I don't feel worthy of you guys, or our fans, or any of what I've accomplished..." the feeling of II's soft hands on him sent his body into overdrive, trembling and sobbing into his partner's shoulder, "I just feel like no one would want me if they truly knew me..." his voice sounds almost like a whimper, broken and tired and it makes II feel like cradling him in his arms, love him like he knows Vessel deserves.

"Ves, listen to me. Our fans fucking adore you. I fucking adore you, and so do III and Ivy." II caressed Vessel's masked cheek, his eyes soft as they tried to get their lover to relax, "and our Goddess saw something in you. There must be something in you that made Her pick you specifically." II got out of the shower and looked for Vessel's towel, "maybe you don't trust our judgment, but what about Hers?" They asked as they rubbed the towel over Vessel's damp hair.

Vessel thought about it for a second. Did he trust Her judgment? Did he not trust his lovers'? Why was that? He had no clue. All he knew is the way he was being touched right now felt way too good but he hated it. He hated not being able to enjoy this. He especially hated how needy he got after these episodes, just craving so much, it felt like a sick joke his body played on him.

The look in II's eyes, filled with love, worry, and that bit of dominance that always managed to bring Vessel to his knees, it made him shake and he needed to reply buy he couldn't find the words. "I do, I trust Her, but I wish She'd tell me why."

II cupped Vessel's cheeks and gave him a soft, chaste kiss, but it didn't take long for the taller man to desperately deepen it, pulling his partner closer by his shoulders and licking into their mouth. Shocked but not displeased, II pulled away and pressed their foreheads together, "Ves, talk to me. I need you to tell me what you want," the shorter vessel explained, playing with his boyfriend's hair to get him to come down from that awful headspace he was in.

"I want..." Vessel started, but he couldn't continue. What did he want, actually? He wasn't sure. He only knew he wanted II to touch him... that was better than nothing, he supposed, so he said that. "I need your touch... just love me and prove I'm still here... prove that you see me."

That was all II needed, pulling Vessel into a desperate kiss and feeling his body up like it was the first time. He took his time feeling every curve, every inch of skin like he's never touched this man's body in his life. "Oh, Ves... my love, you devote your life to worshipping Sleep, but it's about time you let yourself be worshipped instead..."

The words froze Vessel to his core, he just wanted to get on his knees and give himself fully to II. But he knew that wasn't what his love wanted. He just sat back, letting them take the lead as he tried to cover himself up with the towel.

"No, sweet thing, no... let me see you. You're safe with me," II caressed Vessel's shoulders, his hands making their way down slowly, setting a trail of fire on Vessel's skin before stopping between his thighs, over the towel, "can I?"

Vessel took a deep breath, one hand holding II's and the other gripping at the edge of the towel. He didn't want to do this, he hated himself to the point that letting himself be exposed was physically painful. But his partner's touch and the love in their eyes was enough to melt away at him, it always had. Vessel nodded, and II removed the covering, slowly revealing his lover's body. "Damn, Ves... you just get hotter every time I do this to you." II's voice was warm and deep, his hands soft and loving as they pulled Vessel up to press against the sink counter. "Look at yourself in the mirror, sweet thing. Look at the reflection of the beautiful man that I love."

Vessel looked up, and saw his mask. II didn't like it when Vessel remained masked for this, but they knew not to push, preferring to ease his lover into unmasking himself, "you're such a pretty little thing, Vessel... I wish you saw yourself the way I see you." II's hands made their way down Vessel's back, then up again to hold the back of his neck where he started leaving soft, heated kisses along the pale skin. Vessels whines filled the room, desperate for some contact as II's fingers traced the edge of his mask. "I've seen this before. Your face, beautiful like an angel's... I wanna see it again, if you'll let me."

The words made Vessel feel light. Like he was floating, inside a dream... he felt loved, and that had always scared him. But he did as he was told, undoing the clasps at the back of his head and resting the mask on the counter. Even when he knew II wanted him to see himself, he couldn't stop his eyes from closing. He couldn't bear to see his face, it was ruined, and that was his fault. His fault for letting himself trust. His fault for opening up. His fault for loving too much. And his fault for hurting everyone who decided to love him. Even himself.

II noticed the way Vessel's eyes closed, and the slight shake in his hands, so they tried to kiss the tension away, rubbing on Vessel's shoulders as their lips pressed against his back and neck. "Open your eyes, sweetheart."

Those words worked like a spell on Vessel, making him open up instantly. What he saw always horrified him, the scars, the eyes, everything that reminded him that he was no longer human. But the guys seemed to like it. He didn't know why.

"Look at yourself, tell me what you see. I want to hear you talk while I ravish you." II whispered into Vessel's ear, his voice deep and seductive as they kissed all over Vessel's neck. Some bite marks were left and the taller man couldn't help but shiver at it.

"I see... me? I don't like it. I don't like me..." Vessel admitted, unsure of why he was being so open. It was hard to close off when II's hands worked his body so well, one holding his neck just tight enough to be possessive, the other making its way down Vessel's chest and squeezing.

"What exactly do you see? Describe yourself for me. Your eyes, your hair, the shape of your face..." II whispered against Vessel's ear as his hand went lower. The feeling of Vessel's damp skin against them was heavenly, II was just unable to draw back, "I want you to see just what I'm seeing."

Vessel sighed, feeling II scratch lightly down his abs and rub at his hip bones. The touch was distracting, but he tried to do as he was told, just needing to be a good boy for II, "my eyes... there's six of them, unlike yours... and they're black. My hair..." he was caught off by II's hand taking him, their thumb circling the tip of his dick before giving him a few slow strokes. Vessel shivered, it all burned in the best way possible and it was too much. His hand grabbed II's wrist, nails digging into the pale skin as a way of making him keep going. "My hair's black and reaches my shoulders... I have scars all over... my skin is covered in patches of ash and rot..." he was close to crying, just hating everything he saw but loving the way II seemed to worship his body.

"Yes, darling. You are scarred. You didn't ask for it, and yet, you're beautiful," II's warm breath hit the back of Vessel's neck, his strokes getting faster and less teasing. The way II's hand moved was enough to drive Vessel crazy, they were so rough but the way he touched and squeezed Vessel's dick was soft and it felt way too good. Vessel could barely concentrate on his reflection, caught up in his partner's touch. "What else do you see? What do you like about your body?" II whispered against Vessel's back, kissing up and down his spine.

He didn't know. He didn't like anything about himself, truly. But his lovers did... III liked his eyes, his hair, IV loved his arms and his smile, and II seemed to enjoy his hands and voice... he never understood this. But he could go along with it, pretend to love himself so they wouldn't leave him. "I like my body... the way my muscles look under my clothes..." he knew that was something most people noticed, especially since his robe tended to expose it on stage. II's free hand went up to squeeze at Vessel's chest, meanwhile they softly teased his tip before stopping the touch entirely. It made Vessel whine and desperately plead for more, needing his release so badly yet not feeling like he deserved it.

"You're perfect, Ves. You deserve everything I can give you and more..." II got on his knees and started rubbing his face against the inside of Vessel's thighs, kissing and biting on them and reveling in the way they tensed and quivered under his attention. Without any warning, II wrapped his lips around Vessel's dick and took it as deep as it'd go, making the taller man whine loudly and hold the back of his partner's head. II's soft, pink lips, stretched and shiny with spit, were enough to make Vessel loose his mind and start to tear up.

"Honey, please... I won't last if you keep going like that," Vessel whimpered, throwing his head back and feeling his partner's warm tongue lick up and down his hard length, kissing the tip before taking him in deep once again and hollowing his cheeks. Vessel couldn't hold back, just grabbing the back of II's head tightly and fucking his throat with a desperation he didn't think was possible. "II, I'm coming... I'm so close, please..."

Vessel came down II's throat with a loud moan, feeling his partner still lick and suck at him to get him through his climax. It's all too much, overwhelming him in the best way possible. Even looking down at II, whose eyes seemed to sparkle with admiration and devotion, it made his heart beat faster.

"Let's get you cleaned up, sweet thing. And then, we can go to sleep. Is that okay?" II asked softly and Vessel nodded quietly, so they got out of the room to get the washcloth and some clean clothes, as well as text III and IV to go up and get them water and snacks for Vessel, before going back to the bathroom and kneeling in front of the taller man. He wet the cloth and started cleaning the sweat and cum off Vessel's skin, kissing his inner thighs before getting himself dressed up and helping his lover into his shirt and sweatpants. "Come here, Ves. You must be so tired..."

Vessel and II went out into the bedroom, laying down on the bed and pulling each other close, Vessel's unmasked face buried in his partner's neck where he left soft kisses of appreciation. A few moments later, III and IV walked into the room with a tray, which had a glass of water and some buttered toast, that they left on Vessel's bedside table while II woke him up. Vessel immediately went to drink the water, just now noticing how hoarse his throat felt from crying. After a few sips and some bites of toast, Vessel laid back down on the bed, feeling III come up behind him and bury his face in his hair, sighing contently at the soft scent of his shampoo, and also IV hold on to his right arm and cuddle into his chest, holding him in close and rubbing his back.

"We love you, so damn much. Even if you don't notice, we're all here for you, lovely." III whispered into Vessel's hair before kissing the top of his head, IV letting out a quiet sound of acknowledgment as Vessel felt his heart soar from all the love he was receiving. Then, II blew out the candles and laid on the bed with all of them, holding Vessel's hand and squeezing it comfortingly.

For the first time in a long time, Vessel slept calmly.

#sleep token #sleep token fanfic #polyvessels #vessel/ii #ii sleep token #vessel sleep token #iii sleep token #iv sleep token

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Dwarrowtober 2022 Day 19: Durin’s Day- Thorin Oakenshield x OC

Thorin Oakenshield x Bellarose Baggins

Description: “The last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.”

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: And just like that, I’m all caught up on Dwarrowtober 2022!!!!

Durin’s Day was finally upon the Company of Thorin Oakenshield (save for Fili, Kili, Rosemary and Bofur), and they were only just barely making it to the Lonely Mountains. It was nearing midday when they finally got to what used to be Dale. Bellarose couldn’t stop her breath from hitching at the very sight, and she looked at Thorin when he spoke.

“The sun will soon reach midday; let’s find the hidden door into the mountain before it sets. This way!” With that he led the Company up to the mountain, going around to the side where they believed the secret entrance to be.

They spent hours searching, though for what Bellarose couldn’t say. She understood that they were looking for the entrance but she had no idea what it looked like and no one was shedding any light (likely because they couldn’t remember. So, she had to make do with what she believed it to look like. Eventually she heard Thorin call out from his spot.

“Anything?” He panted, standing his sword in the ground tiredly.

“Nothing!” Dwalin returned, noises of agreement following.

“If the map is true, the hidden door lies directly above us,” the King said, confirming what everyone already knew. A sigh left the Hobbit’s lips as she continued to walk around, keeping her eyes peeled for any indicators. After a few more minutes she paused as her eyes landed on something peculiar. It was a massive statue, likely around a fourth of the mountain’s height, of a Dwarf carved into the side of the mountain. Her brows furrowed and, upon looking more closely, she realized there was in fact a set of stairs built into the statue. That’s when it hit her: that was the hidden entrance to the mountain.

“Thorin,” she called quickly. “Up here!” Within seconds the Dwarf King was beside her and she was pointing out the stairs.

“Is that what we’re looking for?” She asked, earning a laugh of disbelief from Thorin as he nodded.

“You have keen eyes, Miss Baggins,” he muttered, impressed. He offered her a rare soft smile that she’d only seen directed at her several times during the entire quest before calling out to the rest of the Company, pointing out the entrance to them.

After gathering their bearings the Company followed Thorin up the steep and treacherous steps to the entrance. It was long and painstaking, but it eventually paid off when they happened upon a little rock-walled clearing in the side of the mountain. Thorin was quick to run over to it and press his hands to the wall.

“This must be it. The hidden door,” he said as the rest of the Company made it to the clearing. He looked back at them with a wide smile as he pulled something out of his pocket.

“Let all who doubted us rue this day!” He exclaimed, holding up the key Gandalf had given him at the start of the quest. The key to the hidden doorway. Everyone cheered excitedly, which made Bellarose smile.

“Right,” Dwalin spoke once everyone quieted down as he walked over to the wall, beginning to feel around it after reaching it. “We have our key, which means that somewhere, there is a keyhole.” As he did that Thorin walked to the edge of the clearing and looked out at the setting sun while the others watched.

“The last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole,” he recited before looking at the wall, likely trying to understand what that meant. As the sun got lower and lower on the horizon, Bellarose noticed the frantic look in his eyes when he realized that nothing on the wall was changing.

“Nori,” he muttered urgently. The Dwarf seemed to understand what he wanted because he ran over to the wall. Wordlessly, he began tapping it in different places with a spoon in one hand while his free one held a cup to the wall, listening for anything different. While he did that, Dwalin began straining as he pushed against the wall. Bellarose glanced at the setting sun as it got lower, which worried her.

“We’re losing light,” she informed the others nervously.

“Come on!” Dwalin exclaimed, kicking at the wall. Nori obviously didn’t like that as he yelled at the larger Dwarf to quiet down. As the sun got closer to disappearing from their sight Thorin instructed the other Dwarves to break it down, though it was to no avail.

“It’s no good,” yelled Balin. “The door’s sealed. It can’t be opened by force. Powerful magic is on it.” The Dwarves dropped their weapons tiredly, disappointment filling their features as the sun finally dell behind the distant mountains. Thorin exclaimed as he stumbled forward and re-examined the map. After a moment he looked around helplessly.

“What did we miss?” He looked at Balin with tears in his eyes as he repeated the question, which broke Bellarose’s heart.

“We’ve lost the light, there’s no more to be done. We had but one chance,” the older Dwarf answered, which caused the others to bow their heads sadly and turn back towards the stairs. “Come away. It’s…it’s over.” That made Bellarose shake her head.

“No! Wait a minute,” she exclaimed desperately, not wanting to believe that they’d come all this way for nothing. “Thorin, you can’t just give up now.” She rested a hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder, but he brushed away from her grip. He held up the key, examining it for a moment before dropping it to the ground.

“Thorin, please,” she whispered, but Thorin ignored her and instead threw the map down as well before walking past her.

“It’s over, Bellarose. Let’s go,” he muttered as he followed the rest of the Company down the stairs. The Hobbit didn’t move, though. She watched until they were out of sight, then looked down at the open map.

“The last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon a keyhole,” she whispered. “Stand by the gray stone…” She did as the map said then recited the rest of the instruction. “When the thrush knocks… The setting sun...and the last light of Durin’s Day will shine on... The last light. Last light…”

She turned away from the wall as she attempted to understand what was going on and continued to mutter to herself. After a moment a thought hit her, and she looked up to see the clouds move aside to reveal the full moon above her. Her brows furrowed, then she looked to her right when she heard some sort of pecking noise. To her surprise, she saw a thrush hitting a snail against the gray wall, then the moonlight hit it. As the thrust flew away Bellarose laughed in disbelief.

“The last light!” She exclaimed as the moonlight illuminated a keyhole in the rock, gasping afterwards. For a moment she looked around, then promptly remembered that the rest of the Company had walked off.

“The keyhole! It’s here!” She yelled excitedly, hoping that they were still close enough to hear her. “Come back! It’s the light of the moon, the last moon of autumn!”

She paused, then looked at the ground for the key. She grew frantic almost immediately, not wishing to lose this moment just because she couldn’t find the key. It was as she was searching that her foot hit something. It was the key! The force had caused it to fly from the clearing, but just before it went over the side of the mountain a boot stepped on the string, effectively stopping it. Bellarose sighed in relief as Thorin slowly reached down and carefully picked up the key. The rest of the Company walked up beside him, smiling in relief at the girl and making her return it happily.

Bellarose stepped to the side as Thorin slowly walked over to the door, still examining the key. Once he reached it he stared at the door hesitantly, then his eyes found hers. She offered him an encouraging smile then nodded, which seemed to be his final motivator to finally insert the key into the keyhole and turn it. Just faintly they could hear mechanisms turning behind the rock before it became silent again. Thorin pushed against the wall, and a door suddenly appeared and opened into the mountain. Inside was a dark tunnel going into the mountains, which made Bellarose’s eyes widened. This was it. She glanced back and noticed the rest of the Company looking on in awe as Thorin stood on the threshold.

“Erebor…” he trailed off quietly, looking at Balin when the older Dwarf called his name before choking up. The King rested a hand on his shoulder, then stepped into the mountain.

“I know these walls…these walls, this stone. You remember it, Balin. Chambers filled with golden light,” he spoke, facing the older Dwarf as the rest of the Company entered the mountain behind him.

“I remember,” Balin answered in the same tone before looking at Bellarose. “You did it, lass.” At his words the King’s eyes landed on the girl. Her eyes met his, and before she could even process it Thorin stepped closer to her and pulled her into the tightest hug she’d ever received.

“You did it,” he repeated Balin’s words, pulling away to look at her. Bellarose merely shook her head at him with a small smile.

“We did it,” she corrected him in a whisper. Thorin couldn’t help but return her smile as he nodded. Because it was true, they'd done this together.

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #thorin oakenshield #thorin imagine #thorin x oc

[harrysgloves]

Fine Line (Chapter 9)

>>>Catch up with the Fine Line Masterlist!

word count: 

story summary: Since you were kids you and Harry had always walked that fine line of friends or something more. Now, pregnant by someone else, you find yourself staying with your long time best friend after things go sour with your boyfriend of 3 years.

Singlemom!Reader x Harry Styles

chapter summary: You and Harry revisit an old childhood game.

warnings: Language // cuddling // mutual pining but they're both dumb af // no editing

a/n: Apparently, I do still write... amazing right?? Anyway, posting this from mobile so it might be a bit weird formatting and I couldn't post the word count tonight. Sorry about that guys. Hope you enjoy anyways!

As always, likes and reblogs make my little heart sing and comments make me almost faint. So, gimme that love.

>>><<<

You settled into Harry's couch for yet another night alone. The light from Judd Nelson's match he had managed to ignite with the back of his teeth lit up the television. The 

luminescent bulbs dimly casted tints of blue and white lights across Harry's living room. Your eyes glued to the movie you'd seen a million times before as you curled in tighter into the soft blankets. 

Harry had been busy the last few days and while you tried your best to not bitch about it, you were lonely. Gemma and Abby had their own lives thousands of miles away from you. Jesse had still not answered you back. Your mother couldn't carry on a conversation with you for more than 10 minutes without forgetting who you were. Besides work, you really had no one to hangout with and even your coworkers didn't see you outside the office. 

The only glimmer of a social life you had was your unborn child that you talked to constantly and Mr. Stranger-who-hits-on-people-at-the-doctor's-office. Since your child couldn't talk back to you yet, Matt was quickly becoming your life line to a somewhat normal life. 

Your phone dinged for the millionth time that night. Matt's name flashing across the top of the screen had a smile curling on your lips. Your fingers quickly slid to open your message app.

>Can't wait for nights like these, right?

The message read, a picture of Roman passed out asleep on top of Matt's chest glared from your phone screen.

<<He looks comfortable.

You shot back, your lips rolling into your mouth as you waited for the response. There was nothing wrong with some innocent flirting, right?

>He says he highly recommends you trying it.

You could feel your cheeks heat when your eyes scanned his message. You bit the inside of your cheek as you typed back, quickly deleting your first response to write a different one. 

You were so out of practice when it came to flirting. You had no idea how to even do it. Even when you started dating Jesse he was the one who initiated everything. You didn't know he was hitting on you until your dorm mate at the time told you.

<<Sure he does.

>Swear. Cheeky little thing even said he'd share me being his pillow with you if you come to the park with us on Friday.

You let out a chuckle as you read his response, ready to shoot back a more feisty text when the door to Harry's house was thrown open. A very drunk Harry stumbled through the door. His eyes widened when he saw you sitting on the couch. That lopsided smile on his face as he used his dining room table to balance himself.

"Have a good night?" You asked, your phone and conversation with Matt long forgotten as Harry clammed up. His hand ran through his soft waves of brown curls as he let out a long breath.

"Weren’t supposed to drink but Mitch brought out the bottle and-" 

"Hazza, it's fine. I'm glad you had a good night. You've been busy lately. You probably needed it." You quickly cut him off, not wanting him to feel bad for having a life outside of you.

After all, you were his guest. He didn't need to run his itinerary through you everyday. He had his own things and you had yours.

"Missed yeh so much this week. Sorry 've been busy." He sighed as he tried to take a step down the stairs. His hand quickly pressed to the wall to balance himself.

"You need to go to bed." You mumbled as you stood up from your warm spot on the couch. Your arm instantly under his to help further balance him.

"But I miss yeh and wanna hang out." He whined. His head laid on your shoulder as he pouted.

"We can hangout all day tomorrow, promise." You said when you pushed him lightly back up the stairs. His body clung to yours. His arm around your shoulders.

"But, I wanna hang out now." He huffed like a petulant toddler. His arms stiffened at his side almost made you lose your balance.

"Fine, well hang out now as long as you help me get to your room." You rolled your eyes at him, letting out a huff when he stopped completely in his tracks.

"Promise?"

"Fuck, Haz, yes. Just get walking before I fall." You grumbled as you pulled at his waist. His feet reluctantly slid against the hardwood floors.

"Yeh can't fall right now yeh pregnant."

"I know." You sighed as you pulled him a bit more. Your doctor would have your ass if she knew you were putting this much strain on yourself. His weight was every bit of 5 times the amount you were supposed to lift or carry but it wasn't like he could make it to bed by himself. "Which is why I need you to help me here."

His feet left the ground in much better steps than he had taken before. The words you had spoken seemed to sober him up a bit as you finally pushed the door to his room open. His tall lanky body hit the bed in a second. You sighed as the pressure from your shoulders finally let up.

"Night Haz." You said with your hand on the doorknob, foot halfway out the door when he perked back up enough to turn on his bed to look at you.

"Yeh promised, so get back 'ere." He patted the bed a few times. A signal for you to join him.

"Uh, maybe tomorrow. We shouldn't-" your words were quickly cut off by his hand around your wrist as he brought you closer to the bed.

"Yeh promised, bunny." He smiled up to you that adorable dimple popped out as you nodded your head. 

Well, you did promise.

Your knees hit the plush pillow top. Your body sunk in slightly as you moved across the bed to the top. Your arms around the pillow that smelled of Harry's shampoo and cologne.

That adorable grin never left Harry's face as he watched you crawl into his bed. A shiver ran down his spine but he quickly shook that thought away. You were just his friend. Only his friend. 

He reminded himself of that many times as he mimicked your position on the bed. His head on the pillow, face towards you, both your knees touched each other.

"'Member when it'd storm durin' your sleep overs with Gem and yeh always end up curled up in my bed 'cause y'hate storms and Gem sleeps like a log?" He asked as his hands tightened around the pillow. Your head nodded as a smile crept up on your face. 

"Remember you stealing all the covers." You teased as he rolled his eyes at you.

"Won't steal 'em tonight. Promise." His pinky finger shot in the air, yours immediately wrapped around it, without even a second thought.

The street lights outside his window cast soft white lights into his room. Just enough that you could see the outline of his face, the tip of his nose, the long eyelashes against his cheek every time he blinked. You licked your lips as the silence swallowed you both. 

How much longer could you two keep up the act of being friends? You didn't know the answer to that question. Every time you were close like this to him you could feel your resolve washing away. Especially when his lips parted slightly, his steady breathing sounded like a soft lullaby. You swallowed, your eyes darted down to his chest. 

"Wanna do the thing?" He asked, his voice broke your intense stare on his lips and back to his eyes. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment at the sight of his smirk.

"Seems a bit stupid now." You mumbled as your eyes darted away from him.

How long had you been staring? How long did he notice you staring?

"Well too bad. I wanna do it."

"You're bloody drunk of course you wanna do it." You huffed as you tried to protest against this stupid game you two always played as children. 

"My bed, my rules." He said as the blanket encased both of you. The little amount of light that was being let in from the street lights was completely snuffed out from his duvet. The heavy duty quilt almost made it hard to breath. The air hot and sticky, smelling of whatever alcohol Harry had been drinking that night and his cashmere cologne. Suddenly, you were cursing your 12 year old self for ever coming up with this shit.

"This is dumb, Haz." You sighed.

"'S not dumb. 'S tradition!" His voice raised to a level you hadn't heard before. You could imagine the shocked look on his face, feel it forming on his features through the thick air.

His hand came to rest on the side of your face and yours reluctantly did the same. Your cool fingers touched against his warm skin. The stubble on his jaw tickled the inside of your palm. A sharp breath sucked through his teeth as your fingers traced the curves of his cheek bones. His own hand mimicking the movement, both of you studying each other's face with nothing but touch.

"Ready?" He asked, his voice playful and full of mischief. It almost made you smile, until you remembered how fucking stupid this was.His eyes closed when his hand ran over your lips. Your eyes trained on him for a second to make sure he wouldn’t cheat like he used to when you were kids. Once satisfied with the knowledge he wasn’t going to peek your own eyes slipped close, a long breath exited your lungs as you thought of all the times you did this with him.

It had merely started out as a way for you to touch him without him knowing you wanted to be close to him. Even though he quickly caught on to the fact of why you liked this so much when you were younger, he never protested when you suggested doing it. Of course, now you knew why he didn’t argue with you.

He wanted to be close to you too. 

Your lips formed into a smile as your mouth opened and closed a few times. His fingers lingering over them as they formed words silently. His eyes popped open as he glared at you. The darkness didn’t let you see his expression but your hands could feel his eyebrows pull together. Your lips rolled in your mouth to stop your obnoxious laugh.

“Yeh a brat, know that, love?” He asked a bit irritated but you could feel his facial features softening when you let out another giggle. 

“Couldn’t help it.” You said through your laughs, his cheeks pushed back against your hand that was still pressed there, a smile on his face so big you could feel the dimple there. 

“‘M not a tosser.” He pressed his finger booping the tip of your nose before it dragged down to your cupid’s bow. The tip of his finger lightly traced the outline of your lips. 

“Your turn.” You snapped him out of his silence when your digits went to his plush lips again. The softness of them never failed to surprise you. How did he manage to have such soft lips? 

You could feel your mind slowly slip from how they felt against your fingers to how they’d feel against your own. Imagining what it’d be like to have them on you again after all this time. Wondering if they’d still send that electric shock down your body. Wondering if he still tasted the same, like home. 

You were rudely pulled out of your daydreams when you felt his lips curl and twist. Your mind searched through your vocabulary of his top phrases he always said to you. Your lips pouted, eyebrows furrowed as he silently mouthed the phrase again. The skin of your fingers took in all the information down your arm directly to your mind. A smile you knew he could feel came across your lips. 

“Love you too, Haz.” Your eyes fluttered open right as his hand left your face and went around your waist. Clearly done with visiting your old time game when he threw the blanket from over the top of your heads. The sweet crisp air being sucked into your lungs in deep breaths. 

“Wasn’t so bad.” He said as you nodded your head in agreement, a shrug from your shoulders had him rolling his eyes as he pulled you into his chest. Your head against his pillow when his hand ran small circles over your lower back, the bottom of your shirt bunched up by his hands so he could touch your skin. A sigh of relief left you at the touch you didn’t know you needed, your face buried deep into him. Your own free hand wandered under his shirt. Your skin touching against the smooth planes of his stomach up to his chest. Contentment washed over you as your body relaxed into him. Eyes closing from how good it felt to be close again. 

The soft call of sleep beckoned you to its depth. Your breath slowed as your legs entangled with his. Gently slipping into a deep sleep. Arguably, the best sleep you’d had in years. 

>>>

Harry woke up the next morning with a pounding in his head. A groan left his lips as the sunlight that danced in through his windows blinded him momentarily. His sleep filled eyes blinked at the intrusion. Hand against his face, swearing to himself he’d never ever let Mitch talk him into another night of drinking. The echoes of his friend's voice rang through his head. Promises of a light night was total bullshit. His body ached as he tried to get into a different, more comfortable, position. His arm refused to move as something heavy laid on top of it. His eyes fully snapped open to see you laid out beside him. 

A smile creeping across his mouth as he looked at you. Your soft pouty lips pushed out as you took in deep calming breaths. The sunlight touched the peaks of your hips and breast. Glowing light radiating off your silky bare thighs. He chuckled lowly, knowing your sleep pants had been abandoned some time during the middle of the night. He guessed some things never change.

His fingers ran down your arm, up the shoulder of your sleeve. He just wanted to touch you, feel your skin under his own. He couldn’t help it. He felt like a man being possessed. His own body moving to its own accord. Inching its way in to hold you like he did almost 8 years ago. 

His arm was around you, face inches away from your own. He could see your eyes fluttering back and forth behind your eyelids. Small whimpers came from you as you dreamed. 

Were you dreaming about him?

He sighed, head pressed harder into the pillow. He could have laid here watching you all day. The way your breathing made your chest rise, the way you unknowingly wiggled closer to him when his arm rested over top of you, the way the golden sunlight made you look like a fucking angel in his arms. 

Golden, golden, golden

As I open my eyes

Words formed in his mind as he memorized every inch of your skin. Every valley of your body, every high rise of your curves. His sight eventually landed on your stomach. A small bump was there, not a huge one, definitely one he wouldn't have noticed if he didn't have every part of your body mastered like the back of his hand. He supposed it made sense you'd start showing by now. All the research he'd done late at night said 12 weeks was usually the normal time frame. 

His hand slowly moved above your bump. Hovering there for what felt like hours. He would never admit it to you but he was scared, petrified, this child would somehow drive a wedge between you two. 

Chase you farther away from him when it felt like he'd just gotten you back.

It wasn't that you two weren't close when you didn't live with him, you two definitely were, but with Jesse and others around he never had you to himself. That was all he wanted, your attention. He suddenly felt like a 7 year old begging you for a moment of your time while you mindlessly played barbies for hours with his sister. 

How fucking pathetic, he thought. Was he really going to be jealous of your child having your time? Or was he just jealous that it wasn't also his child?

He knew the answer as soon as his hand hit your stomach. He inhaled a sharp breath in through his teeth. His heart melted as he thought of that little baby that jumped around on the ultrasound machine. A sense of protectiveness he'd never felt before flooded his brain.

He slid gently down the bed. He held his breath as he lifted your shirt. His eyes darted up to make sure he didn't disturb you from your sleep. 

"Good mornin' baby." He mumbled to your stomach, his large hands completely encased the bump.

"Yeh don't know it yet but yeh momma is my best friend so I guess that makes us best friends too." He said lowly, his callused hands moving softly against your skin made you hum in your sleep. Your body shifted slightly to get more comfortable on your back. 

Harry raised to rest on his elbows. His hands still on your stomach muttering soft sweet words to your baby. 

"Gonna teach yeh all kinds 'f things." 

"Gonna 'ave to let yeh listen to my music 'cause yeh mom has some bad taste."

"Gonna 'ave to teach y'football too, 'cause yeh mom's got two left feet."

"Definitely gonna 'ave to teach yeh maths she's really bad at that one. Pretty sure I did all her work fo' her. Got no idea how she passed when I left."

"You know I can hear you, right?" You asked after being insulted for what seemed like an eternity. Your head popping off the pillow to glare at your friend trash talking you to your baby.

"Oi, this is a private conversation." He said with a smirk on his face as his head shot up to you. His eyes sparkling with a glint of humor as you shook your head at him. He let out a sigh as he fell back to the bed. His chin rested on the covers as your hand ran through his hair. 

He'd stay like this with you for as long as you let him. He'd be happily content to let your fingers run through his hair all day if you wanted to. The soft scratching of your nails on his scalp soothing him as his eyes slipped closed.

Yes, he could stay like this forever.

"Wanna get breakfast?" You asked a bit later, his eyes lazily flicked open only to shut again. His arm flung around your waist, pulling you close to him. His nose nuzzled into your side making you giggle that soft sweet sound he loved more than anything else in this world.

"Wanna cuddle." He mumbled into the exposed part of your skin. Your shirt still lifted over your stomach from him talking to the baby.

"Harry…" You said gently. Your hands in his hair paused their movements.

You cherished these types of mornings with him. Locked them in a special place in your heart but you knew deep down you shouldn't be in situations like this with him. It would only make things more confusing for the both of you. You could already feel yourself inching closer and closer to the edge of recklessness with your heart.

At the end of the day you were still you and he was still the great Harry Styles. 

How could you ever live up to the type of person he'd need in his life?

"Jus' a little while longer, yeah?" He said from below you. Not wanting to admit he knew being wrapped up in bed with you was wrong.

He liked Camille. Loved her, maybe, but she'd never compare to you. The love he had for you burned deep, like a forest fire wild out of control. He tried his best to tame it. Remind it that you had no interest in him anymore but it had a life of it's own at this point. Even through countless rejections and long years of yearning for you without reciprocation.

"Yeah, okay." You said, your hands going back to work running through his hair.

Both of you, unknowingly to the other, wondering the same thought as you laid in each other's embrace.

What would happen if you crossed that line?

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #harry #mine #FL #harries #harries writing #harry styles imagine

[thiswasinevitableid]

98. I’ve been hired to kill you, but you don’t seem that concerned???

Super/vigilante/mercenary au? I feel like it would be really cool if one of them has known the other’s secret identity for a while but doesn’t have anything against them. The two have also been becoming /close/ friends with mutual pining, so the hit is actually just a good excuse to reveal their identity before asking them out. Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go! I tried to work in as much of this as I could

Content warning for mentions of guns and mentions of death

It’s a dark and stormy night, because of course it fucking is.

Indrid steers the borrowed car down the street, rain hammering the car while his heart tries chiseling it’s way from his chest. He doesn’t want to be here, circling the block like a shark on a reef, the light from the top floor, left corner of the apartment building telling him there’s no pretending his prey isn’t home. He doesn’t want to think about the instructions he burned, the lethal object hidden in his clothes.

He doesn’t want to kill Duck Newton.

“Excuse me, but I have a rather odd question; which of these trails is the least traveled?”

The ranger looks up from the map between them, grin friendly and a little lopsided, “Lookin to do some birdwatchin or somethin?”

“I like to draw but I, ah, I also get easily overwhelmed by crowds.”

“Try this one” The man circles a trailhead, “not super popular this time of year. Watch out for mud.”

“I shall, thank you.”

He didn’t.

Which is why he’s back in the visitor center, trying to get enough of the mud off so that driving home isn’t miserable. Worse, the ranger from earlier walks in, takes one look at him, and snickers.

“I tried! Truly, I was careful, but there was this-”

“Patch of stones in the trail?”

“...Yes. How did you know?”

“Fell flat on my ass two days ago thanks to them. Wait here a sec.” The door swings shut, then opens again while Indrid is rinsing mud from his glasses. The ranger holds out a packet of body wipes, “this’ll get the worst of it.”

“Thank you ranger...Newton.”

That same smile, reaching a pair of mismatched eyes, “Just call me Duck. It’s a nickname.”

Indrid parks in a spot far from any streetlights or cameras, pulls the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and starts towards the apartment complex.

“These are fascinating.” Indrid peers over the edge of the dock at the early blooming bulbs.

“Glad you like ‘em, thought they might be alley after you showed me those drawings of the marsh.”

He imagines Duck seeing the flowers on his rounds and thinking not of the seasons, the weather, the way their petals look near the water, but of him. It’s the sweetest thought anyone’s ever spared for him.

The lobby door opens easily, courtesy of the copy of the keycard left in his mailbox. He knows he should take the stairs; fewer people use them.

He calls the elevator.

“Duck? The sign on the door is, that’s just temporary right?”

“Nope.” Duck sets his hat on the counter, runs a hand right through the grey streak in his hair, “they’re closin the whole park until further notice, which is probably gonna be never. Laid all of us off.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Even Indrid could tell it wasn’t. That from their occasional conversations, Duck’s work was akin to his heart, kept life flowing through him on even the roughest days. The assignment had told him not to worry, that he was almost doing his target a favor, ending a life he wanted over anyway.

Indrid knocks on the door, tossing his options about in his mind as slow footsteps approach. He could do what he was sent here for. Or he could offer Duck Newton something to brighten his days.

The door opens, Duck standing there in boxers, a plain white t-shirt, and a confused expression.

“Indrid? Jesus, come in, you're fuckin soaked. This is some storm.”

“At least it will help with the drought.” Indrid closes the door, slips off his shoes, lets Duck take his sweatshirt to hang near the heater, angling his body so he won’t see or feel the handgun tucked in his waistband.

“Yeah. Assumin it don’t just mudslide all the hills that lost their cover durin fire season.” Duck sighs, plops down on the couch, “sorry, ain’t exactly in a chipper mood.”

“That’s sort of why I came to see you. I, ah, I wanted to see how you were getting on after the park closing.”

Duck gestures to the messy apartment, then at himself.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you got enough money to reopen the park indefinitely.”

He chuckles, “I wish I did.” He picks up a small, wooden ship, “goodness, did you make this?”

“Yep. Know it’s an old man hobby but, uh, I dunno. I just like makin stuff. Putting things into the world, even if it’s just a model ship on the shelf or a mint plant on the windowsill.” His smile is tired, but there’s a determination to it that makes up Indrid’s mind for him. He’s about to make his offer when Duck adds, “mind grabbin me some water since you’re closer to the kitchen? Cups are in the middle cabinet.”

“Of course.” Indrid crosses into the small kitchen, mind wandering to what their first date will entail as he sets his hands on two glasses.

The cold metal at the base of his neck hurtles him back to earth.

“Someone set you up, slim.”

“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Duck’s hand goes instantly to Indrid’s gun, pulling it free and tossing it away before roughly patting him up and down. The barrel on his skin never wavers.

“Duck, please, I, I can explain.”

“No need to. Thought you seemed familiar, went diggin and found out who you work for. Bet you thought I hadn’t seen your nine mil, but I ain’t lived this long by bein careless.”

“I don’t understand. The file they gave me didn’t say anything about this.”

A bitter chuckle, “Wasn’t always a ranger, slim. The fact they didn’t tell you that makes me think they’re hopin I off you, not the other way around.”

“But, but I didn’t do anything.” The crack in his voice is why he was never cut out for this, he told them that, over and over again.

“And you ain’t gonna.”

“Duck please I, I wasn’t going to do what they told me.”

“If your bosses are who I think, then helpin me would be a goddamn death wish on your part.”

“It would have been worth it. One date with you would have been worth whatever they did to me if they caught me after I ran.”

“That’s mighty funny” the barrel disappears, and the ghost of a kiss takes it’s place, “I was busy weighing whether askin you out was worth the risk of gettin shot.”

Duck sets the Glock on the counter as Indrid slumps against it, turning to find the ranger watching him carefully.

“What do we do now?” He sort of wants him to kiss him, sort of wants to storm out and find whoever thought he could be gotten rid of so easily.

“I say we-” Duck freezes as three, sharp knocks come from the door. He crouches to the floor, Indrid following him. The ranger grabs Indrid’s gun from the floor, whispers, “stay put, follow my lead.” Then he calls, “who is it?”

“I have a package for you to sign for, Mr. Newton.”

“Be right there. Actually” he lowers his voice slightly, “uh, Indrid, you’re right by the door, could you-”

The shot breaks the wood right where Indrid’s head would be. Duck fires two shots, both of them sighing when there’s a tell-tale thump of body meeting carpet.

“Glad yours had the silencer. Buys us some time, but someone is bound to come outta their apartment eventually and find the fucker.”

“Our hitmen also have to report completion within a certain time frame or back-up is sent. And no, I can’t do it for him, it has to be voice contact.” Indrid stands, calmer than a moment ago; this part he knows.

“Good to know. In that case, slim,” he raises an eyebrow, “think it’s time you and I take a vacation.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

“You really got no clue what they’re after you for?” Duck winds them along highway 50 as the sun peers anxiously over the horizon.

“None.” Indrid fishes out the roll of mini doughnuts he bought near Donner Lake, the first place Duck had deemed safe to stop since they left the coast. They’re in his car, Indrid knowing full well the one he borrowed has a tracking device installed, “I’m mostly a numbers man; they give me scenarios and I give them likely outcomes. I, ah, I also helped with clean up, but I suspect they did that when they were annoyed I’d given them what they thought was an inaccurate prediction. I don’t like the aftermath of disasters, even if they’re small. And I was never, ever assigned a hit until last night” He worries a hangnail, “I thought they were satisfied with my work. Even if they weren’t, they could easily do away with me. There was no point in sending me on a fake mission and hoping you’d kill me instead.”

“Unless they got something against me too, which they could.” Duck drums on the wheel, “I, uh, I joined a, uh, guess you’d call ‘em a vigilante group when I was younger. I was eighteen and they recruited me, sayin how there were certain folks who were chosen to protect the world from evil. I avoided it for a few years, but they were persistent, and honestly I thought I could make a difference. That we were just protectin folks who the system didn’t. And we did. Kinda.”

Indrid offers him a doughnut, which he takes and chews before continuing

“Trouble was, not everyone agreed on who needed protectin. It got so convoluted and so goddamn dangerous that I decided I wanted out. Wanted to spend the rest of my life makin things grow, lookin out for the woods, that kinda thing. It almost worked. But if I could go back in time to talk to that kid, I’d tell ‘im there are enemies you can’t unmake, things you can’t undo.”

“Very true.” Indrid murmurs, “I suppose I’d tell myself I did not blame him for throwing in with who he had to in order to survive.”

“Pretty sure that’s what you’re doin’ now, too.”

“No.” Indrid shakes his head, “right now I am on the run with someone I like a great deal.”

Duck flashes him a smile, flips the blinker to turn them into the only sign of civilization for miles; a cluster of buildings calling itself Cold Springs Station. The groggy teen at the counter gives them the key to a cramped cabin.

Indrid tosses his bag--the one he hid in the trunk of the borrowed car, knowing the likely outcome of his visit would involve flight of some kind--down on the right side of the bed, Duck doing the same on the left. It’s only when they’re under the covers, both half-asleep, that he notices he forgot something.

“Drat. I meant to stick something plush in my bag. I, ah” he blushes, “I sleep much better with something to cuddle.”

A strong arm drapes over his waist while Duck tucks his head under Indrid’s head, “how’s that?”

Indrid winds his limbs around him, feeling like a little kid who’s just had his favorite teddy bear returned to him after hours of tearful searching, “perfect.”

------------------------------------------------------

The plan is to weave through the Southwest like a drunk bee before turning North; they need to put off visiting any places with friends or family for as long as they can. They spent a morning on the floor of a run down motel with a map and some pens, marking off the safest routes and places they’d like to visit. Duck picks state parks, Indrid any place likely to have lots of sweet food.

Whenever they stop for the night, they never bother asking for two beds. While they’ve yet to go further, Indrid delights in waking Duck with a kiss on the cheek each morning.

On the Nevada border Indrid spends two hours playing Blackjack, counting cards enough to win several thousand dollars but not enough to get caught. In a pizza place outside of Salt Lake, Duck wins Indrid a stuffed mothman from a claw machine (“just in case you gotta sleep alone some time”).

And fifty miles from Alamogordo, they get into trouble.

Indrid carries his weapon near constantly, but he really didn’t think he needed it at the Motel 6 Breakfast Buffet. When the man waiting for the waffle maker next to him says “outside, Cold, let’s get this over with” he goes still, wishing they’d at least given him time to eat.

Then he hurls his scalding mocha into the man’s face, striking him in the ribs and breaking his nose before he even hits the floor. Orange and red liquid splashes his face, two shots hitting the juice dispenser behind him. The other two assassins don’t get a second chance to fire; Duck takes out one with a chair, jabs the other with the splintered leg, and gathers both their guns with an ease that Indrid admires.

As they’re sprinting for the parking lot, Indrid slapping an extra two hundred dollars on the lobby desk in apology, he realizes admiration doesn’t quite capture his feelings. Duck is so calm in the face of danger, so commanding, and so very, very...hot.

The moment he allows himself that thought is the moment he dooms his focus for the remainder of the day. He contributes to the planning of their next stop, to driving and watching the mirror for cars that follow for too long, but his mind is back in the dining room, hoping Duck will turn the fire in his eyes onto Indrid, bend him over the beige table and take him while the people who tried to hurt them whimper and bleed on the floor.

“‘Drid? I’m gonna go shower, didn’t get a chance this mornin. You wanna scope out dinner?”

“Of course, but I fear it might be the vending machine special again.”

“Eh, I can live with that, especially if they got those Oreo packets.” Duck blows him a kiss and shuts the bathroom door.

Duck’s showers are between five and six minutes in length; Indrid’s certain he can get himself off in that time. He slips his pajama pants down, spits in his hand, and pretends the fingers pressing on his neck are not his own. That Duck’s voice is in his ear the same way it was that first night, low and so firm Indrid has no choice but to bend.

“You droppin hints, slim?” Duck leans in the bathroom doorway, towel around his waist.

He bolts upright, pants tangled around his knees, “Nono, I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you were going to be a few minutes more.”

“Wanted to shave and forgot my dop kit. Now I’m kinda disappointed that I was gonna miss the show.”

“I, ah, I, it doesn’t bother you?”

“Thought we established we were into each other.” Duck’s smile falters, “wait, fuck, if you decided you ain’t I’ll back the fuck off.”

“No!” Indrid crawls to the edge of the bed nearest Duck, not caring how silly he must look, “it’s the opposite, I want you even more now than I did when we started this trip. After this morning I--ah, never mind. The point is, I would very much like to get you into bed sooner rather than later.”

“How about now?”

“Only if you…” Indrid’s brain screeches to a stop as Duck drops his towel. Now he understands where the urge to create phallic sculptures comes from; he wants to preserve this sight for all time.

“Glad you approve.” Duck chuckles, joins him on the bed, “gotta say the, uh, feelin’s mutual.” He slides a hand along Indrid’s dick, gone soft from his alarm, and lets out an approving groan as it hardens against his palm, “that’s it, sugar, get excited for me.”

“If I get any more excited I will explode.”

“Can’t have that, it’s a pain to clean blood off of walls by yourself” a kiss finds his cheek, “you got a preference for how we do this?”

“I, I’d like to, ah, receive. At least for tonight. Is that alright?”

“Hell yeah.” Duck growls, abandoning him on the bed and laughing when he whines, “gimme two seconds, slim, then I’ll take care of you.” Two condoms and a small bottle of lube bonk into Indrid’s foot, “packed those just in case. You’re gonna get one of ‘em out and open yourself up for me while tellin me just what got you so riled up. Shirt off, c’mon, get to it.”

The gruff tone means Indrid is blushing on every inch of skin by the time he’s fully naked. As Duck’s gaze moves over him, all traces of dominance wash away, leaving expression tender when their eyes finally meet.

“Christ, ‘Drid, you look better than ever coulda pictured. Shoulda been bookin more places with pools just to get you shirtless.”

“It’s January, dear.”

“Hot tubs, then.” Duck nudges him onto his back by kissing his shoulder, and the sight of the ranger above him reminds Indrid’s fingers what they should be doing. He fumbles the condom open, gasps when one digit feels like a massive intrusion.

“Easy slim, easy, you’re probably still tense from this mornin.”

“I thought that much was obvious.” Indrid grins as Duck bends to kiss his collarbone.

“It is, so start tellin me what got you so horny you jerked off the first free second you had.”

“It’s a, a bit embarrassing OH, ohthat'snice” he sighs as Duck kisses a slow trail towards his hips, “but I find the moments when you demonstrate a certain...ruthlessness in-incredibly arousing.” He wiggles his hips happily as Duck drags his lips across his belly.

“Keep goin.”

“You’re brave, and calm even when things are awful, and that makes me feel so very safe with you. But then there are those times when I remember how dangerous you could be, AHnnn” the second finger goes in easier than the first, “that when it, it comes down to it you are more seasoned in lethal matters than I am and I, you could render me utterly helpless, have me, use me, hurt me, but instead you offer me more tenderness than I deserve.” He glances down to where Duck’s chin rests on his chest, the ranger’s eyes overflowing with affection.

“You want the gentle me or the rough one tonight?” Duck tucks a strand of Indrid’s silver hair behind his ear.

“Rough.” It’s so quiet he’s amazed Duck hears it.

“Okay. In that case-”

“AHgod!” Indrid’s hand is pulled free as Duck first flips him over and then hauls him onto his knees.

“Hands on the wall. Now.”

Indrid sets his palms on peeling grey paint as foil crinkles behind him. When the head of Duck’s cock rubs his entrance he whimpers, hoping the prep was enough.

“Here’s how this is gonna go; I’m gonna use this cute little ass however long and however hard I want, and you;re gonna keep your hands there the whole fuckin time. You move, or you mouth off, and I shove some fingers in along with my dick just to remind you who’s boss.”

“Ohhhhhyes” Indrid rests his forehead on the wall.

“It gets to be too much, say stop.” A kiss to his neck, “much as I wanna ruin you, wanna be good to you even more.”

“Understood. Now please, please fuck meEEEh, ohgoodnessAH, ahhhgod.” He scratches the wall as Duck stretches him open, the prep proving enough but only just and tears pricking his eyes by the time Duck bottoms out.

One hand stays on his hip while Duck’s right arm wraps around his chest, keeping them close, “Fuuuck, now I see what your job was; ass this nice, you were the fuckin cocksleeve for the entire Organization, weren’t you?”

“Not at all” Indrid rolls his hips at the taunt in Duck’s voice, “I was a very valuable asset.”

“Yeah, I’ll say you’re an asset.” A sharp thrust, the menace of which is broken by Duck giggling at his own joke, Indrid hiding his face in his arm to do the same.

“I say in, ahgod, an office all day, no one saw me, I was not h-hired for my looks, I promise you.”

“If you say so. I say it’s their. Fuckin. Loss.” Three thrusts and Indrid’s cock is dripping onto the pillows, and he moans as Duck settles into a demanding rhythm.

“Got another theory for you, slim.”

“D-do tell.” Whether the stammering is from his teeth clacking together or his thoughts being bounced around his brain from the force of Duck pounding into him, he can’t say.

“I think you stuck around as long as you did because you get off on it danger.”

Indrid sucks in a breath, whimpers, “No. I, I was there because I was apprenticed out and, as you knowOH it’s, it’s hard to leave such places.”

Fingers on his throat, pressing but not squeezing, “Liar. Bet you got off at least once a day, let everyone from the hired hits to higher ups cum in you as long as they made you think they could off someone. Oh fuck, heh, you like that?” Duck smirks as Indrid tries to fuck himself in time with the pumps of his hips.

“Yes, goodness, I’d never want it, only want you, but, but the idea is divine.”

“Too bad, because now you’re all mine and anyone who tries to take you is gonna be in for a world of hurt.”

His climax curls in his stomach, begging him to touch himself and free it, but he’s determined to be good.

“Duck, please let me cum, please, it’s so good but I can’t-”

“I’ll help you out sugar, don’t worry. But you gotta do one thing first.” Duck nips his ear, “say you’re my personal toy from now on. C’mon” the fingers on his throat tighten, “say i-”

“I’m yours, I’m your toy, only you can have me, you can do whatever you wish to me and I’ll take it with a smile, anything, sweetheart, please, pleasepleasepleaseAHhhhn.” His cum splatters on the wall, Duck’s hand leaving his dick the instant it does to dig his fingers into both hips and fuck up into him with ecstatic groans.

“That’s it sugar, take it, be good for me and lemme fuck you until you can’t move, ohfuck, fuck, ‘Drid, yes, fuckyes.” He holds him tight as he cums, breath warm against his back. Then he’s pulling out and slumping forward as Indrid falls back into his arms.

“Ooops” he snickers, spotting the cum, “still easier to clean than blood.”

“Indeed.” Indrid bites his lip, “I, that was wonderful but there’s one thing more I would like. Will you kiss me.” He looks over his shoulder to say it. Duck cups his face, turns it so he can bring their lips together. It’s far slower and twice as tender as anything else they’ve done together.

“Can’t believe I forgot to do that until now. Gonna kiss you silly.” Duck kisses him again as Indrid turns in his lap. When he pulls back, his face is serious, “Y’know, it’s easy to be brave and calm when I’m doin’ it for you. You make me feel like I can face any goddamn thing, long as it’s for your sake. That make sense?”

Indrid studies his face in the half-shaded light from the bedside lamp, sees the curves and colors, sees the man he was willing to run away for.

“Yes, sweetheart, it does.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #meet ugly #hitman au #I guess? #assassin au

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

Echuio CH. Four

Movie: Adventure

Title: The Goblin King

Words: 1966

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

A/N: Only one more chapter and the first part of this series is over! 

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~~~~~~~

Fili woke you as the moon was falling and the sun rising. You didn’t want to get out of the very comfortable bed but Fili threatened to eat your breakfast if you didn’t get up. Stomach and mouth grumbling in protest, you got out of bed and got ready for the quest to continue.

 Breakfast consisted of fruit and sausages, everyone eating as they got ready to leave in silence. Nori had managed to get his hands on some Elvish food, Lembas bread, he said it was. You had chastised him for stealing from the Elves but he just waved you off. With a sigh, you shouldered your bag and started walking with the Company out of Rivendell.

 After walking for some time, Thorin spoke.

 “Be on your guard. We’re about to step into the wild. Balin, you know these paths so take the lead.”

 You took one last look at Rivendell, a sense of sadness filling you. Frowning, you shook the feeling away and continued walking.

 It took a full day of walking to get the mountains Gandalf told you to go to. Halfway up, it started to storm. Badly. You couldn’t take a step without almost falling off the tiny path. The wind kept whipping your hood off of your head and you were soaked to the bone. The Company soon learned that the storm was no ordinary storm, but a thunder-battle between Stone Giants.

 Rocks were flying everywhere and the path became smaller and smaller as it was hit by rocks. Then, you were separated from Fili when the Giant you were standing on got up.

 “Fili!” You cried, reaching out for him.

 “[Y/n]!”

 The Giant got hit by something and fell to the side. Its leg hit the mountainside and you saw everyone over there jump off to safety. It got back up and the movement was so sudden you slipped and would’ve fallen if Bofur hadn’t grabbed you. You let out a cry of fear, clinging to Bofur and whatever handhold you could find.

 The Giant hit one and another took its head in retaliation. You found yourself swinging past where the rest of the Company was and falling towards the mountainside. A scream left your lips as you careened forward, your eyes screwed shut. When the Giant’s knee connected with the mountain, you were lucky enough to have not been squished.

 You were thrown to the ground, pain flaring in your leg. The Dwarves groaned around you and you sat up. After a moment, you could hear your name being screamed.

 “[Y/n]!” Fili yelled.

 “I’m here! I’m okay!” You said. Fili came rushing over to you and he pulled you close to his chest. Shivering from the cold and adrenaline, you buried your face in his neck.

 “You’re okay. We’re okay,” Fili said, repeating it multiple times. You could hear a commotion going on, but it wasn’t reaching your head. All you could think of is how close you came to dying.

 You were still shaking as Fili led you into a cave. The dry cave was more welcome than the raging storm outside and you sat down after Dwalin and Thorin deemed it safe enough. Bofur was assigned first watch and you found yourself falling asleep quickly, the adrenaline wearing off.

 Fili laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, watching as you fell asleep. His fingers brushed by the braid in your hair and he sighed. That was too close a call for his liking but when the thought of him asking you to go back to Rivendell occurred, Fili shook his head. You’d never agree to it and he was afraid of what you might think of him if he asked you.

 “Stop thinking and get some rest,” Kili said to his brother. “Uncle says we’re leaving at first light.”

 “Alright.” Fili kissed your head and relaxed. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

 ---

 Being woken up by someone yelling was not a good way to wake. Sliding down sharp stone into a Goblin lair was even worse. Luckily, you were the last to fall and you landed on the pile of Dwarves. Your luck didn’t last long however, because you could see a horde of Goblins running full speed towards you and the Company.

 They grabbed and pulled at you, making you go with them along a path. You found yourself near Gloin and you grabbed his hand out of fear. He took one look at you and squeezed your hand, making sure that the two of you weren’t separated as the Goblins led you towards their king.

 He was singing a song but you didn’t hear any of the words. You watched as he sung, ducking when he waved his staff over the crowd, your hand squeezing Gloin’s hard. It was when Balin spoke were you ripped out of your head.

 “That’s not a song! It’s an abomination!”

 “Abominations! Mutations, deviations. That’s all you’re gonna find down here.” He waved his hand and the Goblins were on you in a second, ripping your sword from your waist and your bow from your back. All of the weapons were thrown into a pile and the Goblin king stood from his throne.

 “Who would be so bold to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?” He cried.

 “Dwarves,” a Goblin said. “We found them on the front porch.”

 “Dwarves? Well don’t just stand there! Search them!”

 You were tugged at some more, the few belongings you had on you being rifled through. One of the Goblins searching the Company came across Nori’s bag and dumped it onto the floor. A bunch of Elvish objects came clattering out and a Goblin picked up a candle-holder.

 “I think that they’re in league with the Elves!”

 Everyone glared at Nori until the Goblin king started speaking again.

 “What’re you doing in these parts?”

 Oin stepped forward and said that he’d handle it. He didn’t and his words angered the Goblin king. He stepped forward, ready to kill but then Bofur started talking. That pissed of the Goblin king even more and when he yelled, the Dwarves all flinched back. Gloin pushed you behind him and you clung to the back of his tunic. You were terrified of what could happen and when he started saying words like mangler and bonebreaker, you felt your fear growing.

 “Start with the girl,” the Goblin king said, an awful smirk on his face. One of the Goblins went to drag you to the front and you let out a cry. You could hear the Company protesting and Fili yelling for you. The Goblin king didn’t listen until Thorin called out.

 “Wait!” He said, moving forward. He walked past you, touching your elbow lightly before going to the front of the group.

 “Well, well. What have we here? Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror. King under the mountain. Oh but wait. You don’t have a mountain,” the Goblin King said mockingly. Thorin didn’t rise to the bait so the Goblin king continued. “I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head. Nothing attached. He’s an old enemy of yours. A pale Orc astride a white Warg.”

 “Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was killed in battle long ago!” Thorin spat.

 “Oh, his defiling days aren’t done,” the Goblin king laughed and turned to another Goblin. “Send word to the pale Orc. Tell him I have found his prize.”

 You heard wood creak behind you and Goblins groaning. Turning, you saw them hauling contraptions over to where you stood. One of the Goblins grabbed your arm and was just about to haul you over to the Goblin king when another Goblin picked up Thorin’s sword.

 “I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver. The blade that sliced a thousand necks!” The Goblin king cried.

 The Goblins started going absolutely feral. You were backhanded and fell to the floor, blood gushing from a cut on your lip. You could hear the rest of the Company fighting off the Goblins and the Goblin king screaming for Thorin’s head, but blood was rushing through your ears. Shakily, you stood up, spitting blood onto the Goblin that hit you before pushing him back. He looked stunned for a second before going to hit you again. Ducking his fist, you punched him in the crotch. The Goblin let out a pathetic whine before falling to the ground.

 You were about to kick him when a bright light came out of nowhere. The shockwave sent everything that was standing flying. Everything except you. Blinking, you saw Gandalf approaching, his staff and sword in hand

 “Take up arms,” he said. You were slow to process his words, but your eyes soon widened and you scrambled to pick up your weapons. Your quiver was slung over your back, your bow resting on your shoulder. You were in the process of tying your scabbard to your waist when all hell broke loose.

 Fighting started and you pulled your sword out, slashing and stabbing any Goblin that came in your view. Someone grabbed your hand as the Company started running through Goblin Town and you looked up to see Fili. You kissed the back of his hand and ran after everyone else.

 You fought with all you had, beating down as many Goblins as you could. Your ears didn’t seem to be working, the shouts of the Company went in one ear and out the other as you fought. But your eyes were seeing everything.

 Thorin got separated from everyone else and you noticed right away. Without hesitating, you whipped out your bow and shot a Goblin trying to hit him in the back. After that, you spun on your heel and knelt down, shooting a Goblin trying to kill Balin. Jumping down to where the rest of the Company was, you cut the ropes Thorin had pointed to, barely stopping to watch as the Goblins sabotaged themselves.

 When you got the end of the track, Kili cut some ropes holding it back and made the track swing forward. You jumped off with the first group, shooting the Goblins on the other side. When the track came towards you again, the rest of the Company jumped off and Fili cutting the ropes so the Goblins couldn’t follow from that direction.

 Continuing on, it looked like you were in the clear. But of course, nothing could ever go the way you wanted it to. The Goblin king burst up from underneath the track, effectively blocking your path. Everyone skidded to a halt and the king laughed menacingly.

 “You thought you could escape me.” He swung his staff at Gandalf, Gandalf fell backwards, Ori and Nori catching him. “What’re you gonna do now, wizard?”

 Gandalf then hit the Goblin king with his staff and sliced his belly open. The Goblin king fell to his knees and Gandalf cut his throat. He was finally dead but the weight of his body made the track collapse, the Company falling into the ravine. It didn’t take long to get to the bottom, you rolling onto the ground the moment you hit it. Gandalf helped you stand and when you went to help the Dwarves get out of the rubble, the Goblin king landed on them.

 “Gandalf!” Kili yelled. He was looking up and your eyes widened when you saw the horde of Goblins coming at you.

 “We can’t fight them all,” you said, pulling Dwarves out of the wreckage. You grabbed Fili and he took your head in his hands, searching you for any injuries.

 “Bunnanunê, are you alright?” Fili asked you.

 “I’m alright.” Your foreheads touched and you kissed him softly before following Gandalf out of the mountain.

Taglist:

@panhoeofmanyfandoms

#Echuio #fili durin x reader #the hobbit x reader #Fili Durin #fili x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #The Hobbit #reader insert #x reader

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Black - Chapter 14

Another short(ish) chapter today...

Fandom: The Hobbit

Words : 4k

Warning: Maybe a little bit of angst (idk, I'm not an angsty writer), blood (hence maybe angst), severe canon-divergence

So, here's the start of the potential fix-it, or the potential mass-murder 🙈

Enjoy ❤️

Her arm felt as if her skin was about to split and simply peel off her bones; a sure indication of just how real, imminent, and lethal the threat they all were facing was.

“Ravenhill.” Dís followed the birds that had guided them on the last stretch with her gaze as they hastenedinexorably towards the hill that rose like a monument to deaths not yet met in the distance. Faith let Bess feel her need by pressing her knees against her lathered body as if she was clenching them around a lover; an experience she might never make if her darkest fears came true.

There was no time to think about the potential loss though, lest it make her crumble to dust before she had even reached the people she was so afraid to see drained of their life and light.

She had not been completely honest with Thorin, for – when she had sworn to wait for him – she had omitted to mention that when she vowed to not take another lover until he came back to her, she had meant to keep that promise until the ends of time if necessary. Elrond had been right; she might well have been born in service to his destiny and she was willing to die in it. If he didn’t make it off that hill, her whole future would be interred alongside his mortal shell, but she had not told him these things for she still refused to be a burden. Knowing that it was either him or nobody would certainly not have been well-received on the eve of such an important undertaking, so she had kept her peace about it. A decision she did not regret.

Dís was sobbing into her tunic, but Faith didn’t dare take her eyes off the path for fear that she’d topple off the horse if she so much as caught a glimpse of the destruction around her. Oh, the air smelled of sulphur and death, and there were cries carried on ghostly wings that tore her soul apart, but she could not be distracted now, after those innumerable miles leading her here.

“It is over.” Dís gasped as they tumbled off the horse, their legs weak and numb with cold and fatigue, a pain they pushed through resolutely to scramble up the rickety pathways hewn into solid stone. Faith knew not what she was talking about: the battle, their quest, or everything?

“Dís…” Dwalin sent a handful of orcs to their death before he caught up with the women’s wobbly steps. “Don’t…Thorin…he’s not himself.” He tried to stop her, but her hand flew up and out, hitting his strong jaw mercilessly. “Don’t tell me what to do or where to go.” She hissed, doubling her efforts to defy the slippery stones in her haste. Faith did look down this time: blood, so much blood, sticking to every stone, making her steps squelch nauseatingly as she felt like wading through dirty snow behind her friend, with Dwalin following in silence. It was eerily comforting to have his solid presence so close again, like a shadow that made her believe in sunshine even when there was none to warm her trembling hands.

Her fingers clenched around the box that had been entrusted to her until she could feel her joints creak – about to pop out from the exertion – but she had the disempowering sensation of running along a narrow, rocky ledge with her eyes closed.

Nothing could go wrong now. She could not hesitate; she would not stop.

The cry from a few steps ahead tore through the eery silence and Faith knew, in her heart, she understood that Dìs had come upon the end of her line, that she was standing – burning helplessly – in front of the ashes of her life. “No.” Faith muttered.

She fell to her knees, keeping her stiff legs as supple as she could to slide over to the prostrate shape that had once been so full of life. “It is day yet, prince Fíli.” She whispered. “And this dark day cannot end with the sun of Durin setting too early.”

Taking off the coat she had taken from his mother’s hands as a gift, she tore her tunic into shreds – not caring if she chafed herself bloody – and stuffed them under the body. “The ice will slow the bleeding.” She promised, seeing his eyes flutter open.

“My boy, my darling boy.” Dís was there now, holding his hand. “Kí. Find…” He sobbed dryly and slipped back into blessed unconsciousness. Faith ran her hands over his back and gasped at the warm, sticky life clinging to her skin as she stuffed more of her tunic against the wound. He had offered her friendship, he had extended his protection, and Faith could not fight the flashes of sweet memories nipping at her fraying mind. Fíli, who was the torch of dark halls, the sun of endless night underground, seemed to dim before her very eyes and everything inside of her rebelled against the mere notion of losing him.

“Dwalin, find the horse and take him away. Save him.” Faith ordered, her voice devoid of life or passion; she was so tired. This was not supposed to end like this, but time was running out, and she refused to lay down and give up.

“Yes, Mistress.” Dwalin scooped up his prince, wincing at the sickening amount of blood pooled beneath him. “Dwalin? Cradle him like a pebble, hold him as close as you can. He’ll need the warmth of your body and steady pressure against the wound. Can you do that for me?” Faith called as the warrior retreated hastily and nodded when his arms tightened which jolted Fíli back to life with a pitiful cry of anguish and pain. “You’ll make a fine queen, Mistress. You give orders like he does.” Dwalin chuckled wryly and was off. Faith had no mind to think on the absurdity of his statement, but she managed a weak smile, nonetheless.

Yes, it was good to look upon Master Dwalin once again; she had sorely missed him in his absence.

“Kí.” Dís was not sure if she would ever rise from the ground; all her strength seemed to falter. “Hold on to me, friend, we’ve made it this far and we’ll see this through to the end.” Faith slung her arms around a creature too heavy for her to lift, but her lips against the brow – beaded with sweat despite the freezing temperatures – of the princess were enough to sober her up.

They scrambled up further, arriving at another seemingly lifeless body at the same time as the Elf Tauriel.

Another tortured cry – akin to the howling of a beast in agony – tore itself free from her companion, but Faith was already running her hands over the skin of the young prince, searching for a pulse or any other sign of life.

“Come on, friend, please.” She whispered under her breath. “I do not know how to face another day without your friendship.”

He looked so painfully young, his lashes wet with tears he had had no time to cry, Faith thought. She loved Kíli fiercely for his kindness and his open heart; he had been a playmate for the part of her soul that was yet alive and hopeful and seeing him thus shattered the last piece of innocence she had guarded jealously within the deepest recesses of her being.

There…so weak and fading fast, but there was life within that wickedly mischievous bosom still. “Come here She-Elf. Can you…” Faith nodded to the box and Tauriel was quick to open it and extract what she knew and could use.

“Your coat, do you need it?” Faith ground out, pulling apart the stubborn layers of dwarrow garments for the Elf-maiden to pour powders and tinctures into the bleeding gash in his chest. “I need nothing at all.” Tauriel sobbed, tearing the item of clothing from her dainty body almost violently to shred it to pieces. This was no place for insignia, Faith knew. How often had she told Thorin the same thing? That life took precedence over everything else, over dignity, over decency, over petty loyalties.

“Will you manage to get him off this mountain?” Faith then asked when they had bandaged Kíli as well as they could – being on a barren peak with no real supplies, stretchers, or healers other than themselves.

“I will help her.” A man stepped forward, tall and lithe, wreathed in starlight and beauty. “Are you the king?” Faith inquired breathlessly, remembering the words of Lord Elrond. Faith knew that she would have been amazed by the apparition of this dream-like creature, who looked like ethereal radiance had been captured in flowing silk, had she not been so exhausted and desperate.

If her humanity was frail and laughably flimsy compared to the dwarrows, it was clumsy and unrefined in stark contrast to the elegance and sleekness of this creature’s appearance, movements, and demeanour.

“No, he’s my father. Why? What do you need?” The Elf bowed sharply, lifting the wounded dwarf almost tenderly into his arms.

“I need him, can you make sure that he’ll find me?” Faith knew that this was boding very badly for her own dearest dwarrow, and she was desperate to find him, but her fingers were slick with his heirs’ blood and time was running through them mercilessly. She felt stuck in her own confusion, frantic to move on and yet immobilised by the very same fear that drove her on.

“I’ll find him for you.” – “Take care of Kíli, he’s very dear to me.” Faith said weakly; how could she compare her worry with the torment of a mother, or the breathless gasps of the She-Elf hunched against a rock, dazed and shattered by a fight she was not sure she’d won?

“I’ve had the pleasure before and my own friend’s heart is set on him, I’ll not harm the dwarf.” The man said, walking away carefully, but with an urgency and strength in his step that calmed Faith somewhat; she had learned to rely on the exceptional talents of other races. Faith was in too dire a situation to question her own inferiority; she gave thanks for the fact that humans were not the pinnacle of existence for – if it had been so – all her friends would have been doomed.

Tauriel scrambled after them, clinging to the cold hand flopping aimlessly in the frosty air like an overgrown child to a particularly dirty ragdoll. It was heart-breaking – just as hope usually turned out to be.

“Oh, that’s just like him.” Dís sighed, tears streaming down her face. “Let him live, Mahal, and I will not say a word! Let him live and he shall have his heart’s desire.” She prayed fervently, lifting her face to the leaden, indifferent sky.

“Two down, one to go.” Faith muttered to herself; they were indeed down, but they were alive, they might yet live.

And in that moment, Faith knew that she needed them to live, that all her thoughts about the mere years left to her had been a wilful travesty of the truth; indeed, she could not even fathom drawing a single breath in a world where the greatest wonder and miracle she had ever beheld had been extinct like a torch at sunrise.

This grief would be more than a mere mortal, a single soul, could ever bear. It would tear the fabric of the world and shred her mind to pieces; losing them would turn every single second of what was left of her life into torture and pain.

Her steps, her pulse, her breathing, everything seems to be synchronised now and she advanced to the rhythm of an internal drum that might well have been rocks in a huge hourglass falling heavily onto the bottom of her soul. It’s over, Dís had said, but she was wrong; that demented race against time and destiny itself was still ongoing, and Faith could almost see the finish line.

The cries of the eagles urged them on, and they slid awkwardly on the ice as they approached the hunched over figure of an unknown creature – small and soft-looking – splayed out on Thorin’s chest like a shroud.

A sudden storm of sound rose around Faith, buffeting her almost physically: a rumble out of Dís’ mouth that might have been a word, a name, or her soul taking flight, the flapping of wings and the desperate stammering of the golden-haired creature freezing into a monument of loss at Thorin’s side, it was all too much to take in and she struggled to focus on the scene.

She remembered Dwalin’s words, his quiet warning, and halted abruptly as if colliding with an invisible wall of anguish.

“Who are you? Can you help?” The creature looked up; it had eyes like summer, somewhere between green and brown, deep as fertile soil and alive with fear. “He’s my friend.” He added, pleading, swallowing other words that had no place here.

“You dumb, stubborn, blasted fool.” Dís cried out, collapsing at her brother’s side, and caressing his hair.

Faith paid the creature no heed as she advanced as well, drawn in by Dís’ quick gaze of pleading. The princess was a mountain and Faith was a mere clump of clay, how was she supposed to give her support and solace when she was – herself – fizzling out like a small flame in a puddle of wax?

“Master Dwarf.” Faith knelt slowly, her hands brushing over the body she had not claimed as hers and never might feel underneath her own. “I…You are here.” Thorin’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze veiled by pain and blurring with distance already.

“Oh Thorin, you lead men, but your women follow you just as easily.” She whispered, allowing herself the tiny concession of pressing her lips against his brow; he was so cold under the pulsating warmth of her kiss and Faith shivered.

How she longed to return to the childish belief that dwarrows were carved of stone.

Immutable, stone could be crushed and broken under an onslaught of violence, but it did not weep saltwater and blood onto human skin. Oh, the weeping rocks of the line of Durin, illuminated from within and warm to the touch under her sticky palm, were not mineral at all; they were the sturdy vessels of a life just as fragile as her own. The recognition of this earth-shatteringly simple fact flayed Faith’s heart; it was soft and fleshy – as was she – and there was nothing to break, no, it was rent and mangled by the pain, torn to shreds, reduced to pulp.

Carelessly, she threw open the box, willing herself not to tremble in the ice-cold wind that dug its claws into her exposed skin as she tore whatever clothing was left from her body to still the inexorable bleeding.

The coat she had been given lay forgotten somewhere next to a lake of blood and she knelt in her undergarments in the frosty air, pressing her hands and her clothes onto his chest. It was unsanitary and she needed to disinfect those wounds as quickly as possible, so she waved at the unknown creature to get her clean snow.

Mixing powders and solutions into the frozen water, Faith packed the slush against the injuries – she felt like a villain when her friend groaned in pain as the cold contracted the skin and the vessels – trading his pain for the chance that he may live.

“Don’t! It’s dangerous here. Leave!” He muttered, his teeth clacking under the shivers of agony and cold.

“Hush, Thorin.” Faith commanded impatiently. “We need to get him off the mountain.”

The small creatures die in open fields, her nan’s words came back to her; she had – of course – spoken of small rodents being picked up easily by birds of prey, but – by now – Faith was at least dimly aware of many great battles just outside the strongholds of the dwarrows and she felt like her grandmother’s words held truth pertaining to those tragic occurrences as well.

He’ll have to be entombed, Elrond’s words. When all looks like it’s ending, go back to the beginning…her own.

“My son sends me.” Another creature appeared and Faith bowed her head while her hands were still pressed against the weeping wounds of her master. He was beautiful in a cold, pristine, gem-like fashion that made her eyes tear up with the effort to stare right at the light of a fallen star.

“We need to take him back into the mountain.” Faith gasped, nodding at the dying man beneath her.

The stranger, the king of Elves, looked at the eagles for a moment, but made no gesture whatsoever to summon them. His eyes were as cold and unmoving as the sky above them, but they widened slightly when he caught sight of the box beside her knee, the contents and emptied containers strewn around the ice haphazardly.

“This is Elven. How did you come by this, woman?” He asked accusingly, pointing one long, snow-white finger at her.

“It was given to me like…” that last gift of Lord Elrond’s surged within her memory, “like Thorin was promised to you. I was told to find you and to remind you of the oath you have sworn.”

He gave a derisive chuckle that had an edge to it – it spoke of pain and disappointment – and Faith’s eyes widened.

“Oakenshield is dying; he is hardly the harbinger of hope. Besides, he’s mad, he’s gone back on his word, he has lost all honour.” He hissed viciously, his head snapping forward to underline the intensity of his rage.

“We have to bring him safely into the mountain and get back what he’s lost.” Faith was pleading, but she didn’t dare lift her hands off Thorin’s chest, begging the stranger with her eyes from which warm tears spilled against her will.

“His life? His honour? The blasted sword? The stone…it’s the stone you want…isn’t it?”

Faith knew nothing about any stone, but she found herself nodding tentatively. “Your forgiveness. Your help.” She croaked.

“What about the things he has promised us and refused to hand over? What about his broken word?” The man leaned back as if to turn on his heels. “What care I about his broken body?”

“I am Dís, daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór. He is more than my blood and I can promise that you shall have what he owes you.” Dís cried out, her head thrown back, ready for a battle of wits or of fists, if it came to that. Faith knew that she would never have revealed her gender carelessly, so she understood that this was indeed momentous, and she stared – awed – at her friend.

The majestic apparition of cold light seemed to ponder for a moment before inclining his crowned head infinitesimally.

“So be it then. I’ll meet you in the mountain.” The Elven king nodded and lifted a hand. “How brave are you?” He asked curtly.

An eagle dove down and collected Thorin gingerly; Faith did not hesitate to climb into its huge claw alongside her friend.

“I have nothing to give, but whatever you might ask of me, I shall grant you.” She promised the stranger as they soared.

The royal line of Durin was laid out as if for their own funeral and Faith could hardly breathe.

It was cold and clammy inside the mountain, the pressure of the dark, scarred walls negligeable compared to the crushing vice tightening around her heart upon seeing them so still and pale in the middle of the room.

“Mistress Faith.” The same stranger strode in as if he owned the place, followed by a man. Faith was almost shocked to see another human in these halls, but something inside her told her that this was how it was meant to be.

“You promised me anything I might ask of you.” He smiled sharply, holding out her box to her, that she had left behind on the mountain, almost teasingly. “Whatever you desire, Sire.” She nodded slowly while Óin busied himself with the wounded.

“If I asked your hair of you, would you give it? Your arm? Your soul?” He said in a treacherously calm voice.

“Oh, creatures from near and far, may you and every God you pray to hear me! Would you ask my life of me, I would give it up willingly.” Faith declared – fearless – seeking out the eyes of all that stood around her.

“Your life? Woman, do not speak of what you don’t know.” The old man she had met in Bree walked over, dirty and caked in blood but alive still; his eyes were sorrowful as he looked upon her.

“Do you doubt me, old man?” She asked, steel ringing in her voice like the unsheathing of a sword.

“Would you trade your life for his? Risk his happiness and sanity?” His words were soft as he touched her feverish brow.

“I would.” She nodded, spreading out her arms slowly. She had lost weight in the months of hard toil and the writing on her arm was burning an angry red against her pale skin; unashamed of her relative nakedness, Faith presented what little she had to offer.

“What care I about my hair or my arm or my life if he’s to die?” She sobbed, unable to hide the deep devotion she felt for that immobile, statuesque king any longer. He would not know and it did not matter.

“You have lost your home, your name, your reputation, and your coat for him. Would you really lose your life?” The old man seemed intensely interested now. “I would.” She repeated once more with firm conviction.

He looked around and nodded at the two strangers.

“His sister has given us her word that we shall receive what was promised to us and we are willing to trust those blasted mine-dwellers one last time.” The Elven king spoke, unhurriedly, though Faith thought that it was the warmth in the man’s eyes rather than in the Elf’s that might be the reason for this change of heart.

Laying down a beautiful sword at Thorin’s side, the “star-haired despot” waved the self-same man forward; he placed an iridescent gem on Thorin’s chest with the utmost care, his face mournful as he gazed at the stillness of the dwarven king.

“The king’s jewel.” Dís gasped – a mix of apprehension and fascination colouring her voice like the light pulsating inside the stone seemed to paint rainbows on the dreary walls around them – and took a step back.

The Arkenstone, no matter how beautiful, was but a lifeless thing to Faith and its shine did not draw her eyes. No, it was the man, always the man, who retained her attention. Surrounded by stone and steel, Thorin seemed so painfully fragile. How could she ever have believed that he was anything like that cold, lifeless solidity that seemed to mock his terrible silence in this moment?

There was blood on everyone around her and she muttered: “Not creatures of rock and starlight after all. They can be hurt…they have been hurt.” She did not know how she would make peace with that knowledge.

“Here’s your box, Mistress.” The king said and Faith was surprised to find many of her ingredients mysteriously replenished.

“I am a healer, bring your wounded in, let’s work together?” She offered, even though she was about to fall flat on her face with exhaustion. Her own frailty was no longer an excuse, she knew, she would have to push through and be the support of the solid and the beacon of the illuminated ones. In this one second, she could be more than she had been, if only she dared to try.

“What?” The man called out, confused, and the Elf merely cocked one eyebrow.

“The mountain offers shelter; the gate is easy to defend. Let’s tend our wounded together! Bring your women and your healers!” She spoke as if to dumb children who tried to shirk their chores. “That is unheard of.” The Elf cried out, evidently horrified.

“There has been a battle! Outside these walls! This is the closest strategic point, no? The city is in ruins, your forest is miles away. It’s cold and the ground is a quagmire of blood and corpses. Let’s get a fire going, cook a solid meal, look after the wounded, and count our blessings.” Faith did not understand where the problem was, and she had no patience for political idiocies. The clock inside her racing heart was ticking still, cautioning her that the race was not over yet.

“Mistress Faith? The king is asking for you.” Óin touched her shoulder lightly and she whirled around, dreading that she’d go to say goodbye despite having done everything she could. The hammering in her chest that had paced her actions…stopped.

#thorin oakenshield #OC #black #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #folklore #and religion #fix-it? #ravenhill #maybe slight angst? #idk #despair for sure #time is running out

[paperficwriter]

I’ll Follow You Into the Dark

Harboring a fugitive means having to be careful, having to be smart about it. Because what terrible things might happen if someone were to find out? Unfortunately, being particularly clever is not one of Badd’s strong suits.

Written for @kaincuro​! Cut is for length, not for content.

“Where have you been?”

Badd hasn’t even gotten in the door yet. He’s just opened it with his shirt covering his hand because it’s gross, because there are splashes of gore on his clothes. Showers are available at the Hero Association HQ, yes, but it would have meant being out even later. The chance to take advantage of the Class S wing’s amenities was outmatched by his desire to be home with Garou.

“I got sidetracked by two monsters when my shift was supposed to end.” Garou’s eyes shine in the dark like a cat, even when the rest of his face is obscured by shadow, and Badd gropes for a light switch. “Ya could have at least waited with a lamp on. Where’s Z—”

“She’s staying over with that one annoying girl from her class.” A hand grabs his wrist and pulls him. “Why didn’t you call? You’re always browbeating me about using the burner phone you got me.”

“I said I was—”

“After.”

“It died. Garou, let me get a damn light, ya fuckin’—”

There’s a mouth jamming into his, which isn’t really the best way to describe a kiss. This is more like he’s being berated, like it’s a scold in the form of affection that’s being taken rather than given. Garou licks his face, and that’s so fucking gross, he’s told him how gross that is, especially right now when he’s sweaty and dirty. 

That sharp nose presses in next to his, and his face is held by icy fingers. He can hear his lashes falling on his cheeks, and between their eyes is this singing . That’s the only way he can think of it as. A high-pitched energy.

I was worried, Garou is thinking into him so he doesn’t have to say it. 

“I’m sorry.” Despite the grime (clearly Garou doesn’t give a shit) Badd palms the back of Garou’s neck until their foreheads touch into a point of pain. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

“Mm.”

He puts on a little smile. “I’m real flattered that ya missed me so much, though. It’s nice to be missed. Kinda sweet, comin’ from you.”

“Shut the fuck up.” There’s not even an ounce of bitterness in those words; the only thing reflecting any hurt is the way he pinches his cheek.

“Ow.”

“What? You’re the one who liked being missed so much. I should show you all the things I miss. Like these stupid soft cheeks of yours.”

“You’re just jealous. You’re like all skin and bones and shit.”

It’s still dark, but Badd’s eyes have adjusted. He leans his bat against the wall by the coat stand, on the linoleum where he can take it out and hose it off later. It’s the only moment he takes his hands off Garou, and he returns them just as quickly to sweep over his chest. Garou’s shirt is just a little loose on him, which is a pretty big indicator that he’s borrowing one of his.

He leans up until he feels a little soft hair on his nose and the bump of Garou’s ear. “Why don’t you show me all the other things you missed in the shower with me?” he whispers, and damned if he isn’t dragged down the hall on the spot.

Garou hisses when he finally turns the bathroom light on, and Badd gets his eyes on him for the first time since that morning. God, he kind of looks awful. Not that he’s going to say that, but there is this worn quality to the skin on his face, his eyes are a little squinty (even after he gets accustomed to the light) and there’s just a fatigue that’s there that’s not normally there.

“G. I’m okay. See? None o’ this blood’s mine, yeah?”

Slim fingers pick at some dried blood on his collarbone, then practically tears his shirt off. 

“I’m really, really sorry. I promise I’ll try not to let it happen again. I—”

“I almost went out looking for you.”

Badd stops talking for a second. His heart squeezes uncomfortably. “Ya know ya can’t do that durin’ the day. You’re…” A wanted criminal. The only monster that has ever escaped from the Hero Association. “It’s not safe.”

Garou scowls, pulling back, his touch rescinded entirely. He bends his head to rub his face against his own shoulder like a cat, and it makes Badd wonder if he’s trying to spread his scent onto his cheek. “I didn’t, did I?”

"It won't be forever. And it's nice when we go out at night, yeah? To our special spot?"

On the hill that overlooks the river. The one that's two miles outside the city, where sometimes Garou will meet him after work or Badd will drag him out on evenings like this in a completely different outfit.

Sometimes they don't even get there at the same time. They even pretend they're strangers. To spice things up. Keep it interesting.

But Garou doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere. He’s kissing him again, grabbing for his pants, and those pale fingers are getting dirty on his buttons. Badd scrambles to try to undress him too, but Garou is like some unstoppable force when he’s like this. 

“No trips tonight,” he says when he gets to his neck, hand slapping out to start the water. It hits too hot, but Badd can’t get to it to adjust. “I need you here. I’ve needed you here. I don’t want to share you with anyone else, even if it’s just the fucking bugs and birds and shit.”

Badd chuckles and lets Garou pin him to the wall. The water is running murky right now, and this should be gross, he should be shoving him off, but denying Garou is like trying to stop a hurricane with a parasol. 

“Alright, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

How does it happen?

They fuck up somewhere. It’s hard to say where, or when, or how.

Was it when Garou slinked along beside Badd when he went on a midnight grocery run?

Or the time Garou snarled at a guy who catcalled a girl as he was waiting for Badd to get off the train, and Badd grabbed his arm so he wouldn’t actually take off after the weasel? 

Or was it just chance? A suspicion, a hunch, and a window open a little too wide in the bedroom?

It doesn’t matter.

Garou had gone for a walk. Just a walk. It was fall, so the nights were getting longer, so while Badd dropped Zenko off at their cousin’s for the weekend, Garou went out into the crisp air, hat pulled down over his ears, Badd’s favorite jacket on with the embroidered tiger on the back (the hero had made the piece of clothing too tantalizing, always scolding that if he ripped it or stained it, he’d fucking kill him).

Although Garou’s walks always took him into a run, and then a leap, dashing up buildings until he could see for miles. And this one was different. His slippered feet propelled him from rooftop to rooftop, the smell of drying leaves and burning wood in his nostrils, air whistling.

His phone vibrated. ‘Gonna pick up food. What u want?’

He landed on one foot on the top of a stone cross erected on an empty church. Pigeons noisily swarmed from inside the belfry and out into the air. ‘Dumplings. Soup. Meat.’

‘lol, ok. See u soon.’

That’s the last one. The last text.

When he’s coming back, the noises make his ears twitch as much as his nerves. Anyone else wouldn’t notice, but he knows every inch of Badd’s house. He knows the furniture in it, the weight of it, and he knows what it’s like to fight inside (there were a few of those when he first started living there). 

There are people inside the house. There are people ransacking Badd’s house. 

The part of Garou that Badd always calls “the guard dog side” heats up to combustible levels. Usually it’s “cute” (again, something Badd says), when he glares at the door before he’s pushed off Badd and down the hallway out of sight. 

They’ve sprayed something on the windows so he can’t see. Fine. If they want to do this the painful way, he’ll oblige.

The window breaks as he goes through it so fast that he barely cuts himself, rolling into the bedroom. There are three men in suits, and the bed - their bed - is turned upside down. The nightstand is cracked, the drawer thrown open and turned out. Everything that they have worked to make theirs is ruined, and Garou roars. 

“He’s here! He’s—”

Garou grabs the man’s face and throws him through the broken window. The other two reach for guns on their belts, but the movement takes far too long compared to the speed with which Garou attacks, sending each of them flying into the walls. 

I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you all.

“Garou…”

It only takes a few sprinting steps to get to the stairs that lead to the living room, although it takes three (precious, few, too many) seconds to take out goons in the upstairs bathroom and in Zenko’s room. One manages to get a shot off, and the sound rings in Garou’s ears even as his fist breaks through his nose and jaw. He drops the bullet he caught onto the ground.

From the landing, he can see down into a black sea of men in suits, like the ones he’s dealt with upstairs. Badd is sitting up in a chair, and even from here Garou can see that his eyelids are heavy, a sagging in his cheeks and muscles. 

He’s been drugged with something.

One of the guys has his foot on his bat, which is on the floor, and there are several guns trained on Badd’s head.

He does the math.

Garou is fast, and if it was one person, only one, he could make it. But there isn’t one. There’s...twenty. They are crammed in here, and they all have guns, and there are too many for someone not to get lucky. And from the range they have on Badd, they don’t even need luck.

Run. 

It’s not a word that comes to his mind. It’s one silently mouthed by Badd.

Run, Garou.

Garou shakes his head. How can he run? How can he leave him? Now, at their worst point? That’s not just making him a coward. It’s making him a truer villain than he ever possibly could have conceived of himself to be. “No. Badd—”

So Badd is the one who moves. He sinks his teeth into his own hand, and Garou can feel as much as see how his Fighting Spirit flares. 

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

Shots fired at him, around the room. Ten men pile on Badd, and he disappears under their bodies. “Run, Garou! Get the fuck outta here! ”

Two shots hit him. In the side and in the shoulder. Too much happening. Too many distractions. Below him, he can see Badd struggling, and he knows he’s alive and if he’s alive he can find him, he can get him back.

“Take him down! Don’t let the Hero Hunter get away!”

The Hero Hunter.

That’s all he is to them. He’s still that version of himself that he had given up, the already-flimsy mask that had been torn off in that last fight.

Breaking into a run down the hall is like running through mud. Maybe not physically - physically he outpaces them all, a wild animal that knows the woods better than any clumsy human - but with every step he’s calculating when, where, why, how, will they, won’t they, what are you doing?

He doesn’t just go through the window; he takes half of the wall with him. This time, he barely touches the rooftops as he jumps from one to the next. Anything it takes to put as much distance as he can between himself and that house, those men.  

And Badd? A voice in his head asks.

He smothers it in his molten rage.

---

Who is he kidding? Garou can’t stay away. It doesn’t matter that it’s only been a few months. It doesn’t matter that they will probably check in on the house, or that they may be watching it now. He’s drawn back to it like a bird - like a chicken, that awful voice says again, rearing back, returning over and over no matter how much he ignores it - and in the dark he’s much harder to spot.

He waited a day. That’s as much as he can be expected to wait, isn’t it?

They’ve only put tarps over the holes, so he goes in the exact same way as he did that afternoon. 

Everything is still a mess. Any shelf that was standing or on the wall has been torn off, tipped over, emptied. Clothes have been pulled out and left scattered on the floor, or in piles. Nothing seems intact.

Even the bed has a gash running through it, clearly torn open by a knife. It nicked Badd’s pillow, and feathers are bleeding out onto the comforter. The sight makes him so angry that he picks up the whole bed and he’s about to throw it through the wall when two eyes shine up at him.

“Meow.”

Tama. She’s pushed herself into the tightest ball she can in the corner, somehow evading the terrible events of the afternoon. He puts the bed down, leaning it against Badd’s desk, and reaches down for her. She darts down the hallway into Zenko’s room.

The scene is the same. Granted, he always hated the posters and standees of Amai Mask, but seeing them ruined, torn off the wall (for what fucking purpose, those bastards) makes him nauseated. 

“Meow.” Now she’s under Zenko’s bed. He gets down on his stomach and pats the floor. She doesn’t move.

“Come on, Tama.” She backs up, and he kicks the door closed with his foot so she can’t run away again. “Come. On.”

She can survive. Cats are predators, and they can handle themselves. You’ve done enough— 

“Come on!” His fist lands on the floor. A piece of paper falls off the pink cork board over Zenko’s desk, fluttering to the floor. Not paper. A photo. Badd is grinning, with her up on his shoulders, and Zenko is making bunny ears over his head. Garou stares at it, not blinking, not moving. And then he realizes that he’s just barely in the picture. Half his face, the visible part of his smirk, and he recalls Zenko begging Badd to let her keep it. 

“Just that one. And it stays at home. Understand? No showin’ it to anyone at school.”

“I promise!”

He hates this feeling.

And it’s one he should be used to, isn’t it? Being on his own. He was on his own for so long, living in that shack, stealing food. And only a few times did it ache a little, to be away from the world, but it was worth it, because he had a goal.

What does he have now?

...nothing.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Liar. Liar. Liar.

You could have stopped it. You should have died stopping it. 

No. No. No.

The bristles of Zenko’s carpet are making his face itch, but all the energy has gone from his body. It’s hard to tell how long he stays there, the silence so eerie. No television. No talking. No breathing. 

And then, there’s something. A gentle vibration. He glances up to find that Tama has occupied the space of his slightly-bent arm, where it had been outstretched. Her eyes are heavy, and she’s purring gently. When he picks her up, she lets it happen, and he pockets the photo as well.

For a moment, he considers taking more, but…

No. 

...better to let this chapter end. It’s easier to let it all go. He has the jacket, and Tama, and one picture of them together.

Yes. Look at where attachments have brought you.

---

Garou memorizes the address on the fridge, and rips it into tiny pieces. If they found it already, they have it, and if they don’t, they won’t now. It doesn’t look like anyone is watching the place, so far as he can tell.

He gently knocks on the window.

“Garou!” Zenko looks like she’s been crying, so she must have some idea what’s happened. That makes things easier, although who knows what they’ve told her. Her face is red, and she grabs his arm, trying to pull him in from where he’s crouching on the window sill. 

“No. I can’t stay.”

“You can’t go!” One of her fists punches his arm as her eyes start filling with tears again. “Don’t go, Garou!”

It hurts. He doesn’t...he wasn’t expecting it to hurt this much. “Here.” Reaching into his jacket with his free hand, he takes Tama out and hands it to her. She has to let him go to take the large cat in her arms.

“Tama…” Now she’s sobbing into the cat’s fur, and he remembers just how old Tama is. Old enough to have been there through losing their parents. Old enough for all Badd’s antics, all the things that led him to promise ‘no violence in front of her.’ 

Some good that did.

“Do you…” she hiccups and scrubs her eyes. “Do you know where he is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know if he’s okay?”

“...I don’t know.”

“What do you know?!”

“Nothing!” Before he can stop it, his voice goes as sharp as hers. “I don’t know anything yet! Are you happy?!”

At first, in the moment he regrets it, he thinks she’ll start crying and then...what, is he going to try to comfort her? But instead she puts Tama down, jumps up and slaps him in the face. Which doesn’t really hurt all that much (physically, at least). Not as much as when she yells at him, “You’re the adult! You’re supposed to be able to deal with it!”

...he is, isn’t he.

He holds his hand out. “Give me your phone for a second.”

When she unlocks it and hands it over, Garou brings up the news and searches for ‘Metal Bat.’ Immediately, there are several articles about his “leave of absence” from the Hero Association, about “suspicions of misconduct,” and how he was currently staying in the Hero Association Headquarters where they would be investigating his involvement with “possible criminal monsters.”

A monster...

Garou hands the phone back to her. “You probably saw that he’s at the hero headquarters.”

She nods. “That doesn’t narrow it down much...the new one is huge. You can’t just— Garou!” Zenko pulls hard at his arm as he tries to jump away, like she can yank him inside. “You can’t just go in!”

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“Take me with you!”

“No way.” She’s about to yell at him again, he can tell, but he gently, firmly pulls his arm out of her grasp. “Your brother will kill me if I get you in trouble. And who will take care of Tama then?”

Zenko hates it. He can tell, because the expression on her face is how his gut has felt all day: angry, grief-stricken, hurt. “Promise you’ll come back for me. That you’ll both come get me!”

He nods. “Fine. Call Tareo. He’ll be worried, and I don’t want you alone.”

He leaves after that without saying goodbye. There’s nothing more to say, and he can’t make any more promises he’s not sure if he’ll be able to keep.

---

Garou spends that night in the special spot. He curls up in the tall grass where he usually does, and below him he can hear the water gently lapping over the rocks. It’s dark, and there’s a breeze, but there are stars overhead. 

He takes Badd’s jacket off and balls it up under his head, where he can breathe it in.

“I love ya, Garou.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, it’s right, jerk.” Badd laughs and smacks his chest. He’s using him as a pillow, that night, and it’s warm yet cool enough that this is the first time they’ve been able to stand being out in it. In the distance, storm clouds are moving in. They’ll be forced home soon.

Garou is playing with his hair. He usually has it down when they go out. The pompadour is too much of a signature for him, too unique. Like this, Garou can pass his fingers through it without it getting caught in product. 

“You don’t have to say it back.”

“Good.”

Badd’s smiling into his flesh, and he traces the outline of one of his pecs. It makes goosebumps jump up across Garou’s shoulders. “You at least like me, don’t ya?” he teases, poking him near the armpit so he jumps. 

“God, no.” Garou rolls until he’s got Badd on his back and he’s looming over him, growling as he places several nipping bites down his throat. “Can’t stand you…”

“Yeah, I get that a lot from folks,” Badd laughs.

“No, you don’t. And that’s what I hate the most.” He follows the path of the bites with little kisses, faintly feeling Badd rubbing at his scalp. “You’re so damn likable...everyone fawning all over you...you’re like the neighborhood mutt everyone wants to give treats to.”

Badd sits up a bit until he can press his face into the soft space of skin under his eye, slotting his nose into the dip of his cheek. “Do ya wanna give me a treat?”

God. He wants to be annoyed, but Badd’s boyish face, his little smile, his hands, even the calluses on his fingers...every piece of him just endears him more and more. Does that mean that this is love? Is this what love is? It’s not like he’s ever felt this for someone before, this positive energy. The only things that he can think of that have fueled him are spite. Anger. Bitterness. At best: boredom.

Not that he hasn’t been kind to others (as kind as he has thought possible) but…

But he doesn’t know enough to say it.

…

You should have said it. You might never get a chance to tell him again. You knew at the time, and the only reason you didn’t say it was because you were a fucking coward.

Garou curls up tighter. 

Or.

An itch is beginning to cover his skin. His eyes actually hurt, like he’s been swimming with his eyes open, but it deepens into a worst burn.

Or you never loved him at all.

“No!” When Garou punches the ground, he can see that his skin is different. Harder, stony. Like that day. His head is on fire. The voice that comes up from his throat doesn’t even sound like his. It’s coming out of a smoking muzzle. 

When he gets up - on all fours, so tall now that the long, hard tail swinging behind him knocks two trees over - he picks up the jacket, the picture still in the pocket, and holds it against his chest. The armor shell that has been forming around him seems to swallow it up, and he can feel the material, feel Badd, pressed to him. Present. Protected.

It’s very possible that he won’t survive the night.

He accepts that.

And as he lets out a howl so long and so low, so reverberating and far-traveling that he can hear dogs on the far shore return his call, he turns away from the hill and begins to run back toward the city.

---

It’s like this was the only form he could take to quiet his mind.

Because when Garou gets to the Hero Association Headquarters, he doesn’t stop to think or consider his next plans. He’s not crafty or cunning (was he ever?). He’s a mad dog. No, a wolf. A rabid wolf, in form as much as action now.

And the Hero Association has never been good at actually defending itself against monsters.

The glass in the front of the huge building shatters as he goes through it. 

“Baaaaaadd!” It’s the only thing that comes out of his mouth where gray fangs make the darkness within look like a cave without an end. “Badd!”

The men inside are shooting at him, but this isn’t like inside the house. The bullets bounce off him, and he runs through them, into a door, another passage. His huge nose sniffs at the air, and even though they begin crumbling under his weight, he starts taking the stone stairs that lead up further into the building.

More security. This time, in the form of flying drones with both constant artillery as well as drugs, electricity, nets. 

Insects. All of them.

It’s not to say that Garou doesn’t feel their attacks. The rocky armor surrounding him cracks in places, pieces falling to the floor in small piles. But he’s being fueled by something greater than metal and energy.

They crunch like cans in his jaws. 

“Baaaadd!”

He tears through another door, clearly reinforced, having to dig through it with his claws. Cameras are watching him; sometimes he catches one out of the corner of his eye, and in the lens he can see his blood-red, burning eyes. 

He doesn’t waste time with them. Let them see.

More humans. More humans with guns, with long spears that end in shock cords, like the kind used to leash strays. Do they think it will be effective? They sting when they touch him, sure, when they manage to loop his ears but the moment he shakes his head he can hear their bodies make contact with the walls.

They keep trying to trap him, trying to close him between lock-down gates. It’s obvious they think he’ll try to go through the steel, but then he just turns and rips his way through the wall. 

More robots. More rolling, shielded automatons. They issue warnings he doesn’t heed, and the ones he can’t literally destroy he just ignores.

Then, it gets quiet.

And that is worse than any of the defense that he’s faced to this point as he’s climbed higher and higher in the building, following Badd’s scent, tracking him through corridors and stairs and firepower. 

When he gets to a large, open room, empty but for equipment and air ducts far up in the ceiling, he’s about to start scaling the wall when the door in front of him opens and a lone figure walks through.

“Ah...I just want to sleep...why do they want to put me to work so late?”

It’s him. Saitama. Again, here, at the end of everything, why, why, why .

He’s picking at his ear, his other hand in the pocket of his striped pajamas. “Didn’t even have time to change…”

Garou’s options are limited. He can go back the way he came, or he can charge forward. But then, would he make it either way? Saitama was fast last time. And Garou… 

He can’t help slumping. God, he’s tired. 

He’s no stronger than he was before…

“Oh, it’s you again. You look a bit different. So...you here to cause trouble, or…?

Garou growls. He’s talking to him like he’s a child that’s gotten somewhere he’s not supposed to be. On the tip of his nose, he can just barely smell Badd still. They’re moving him. Higher? Farther away? It’s hard to tell. “Badd…”

Saitama turns and looks up toward the ceiling, where Garou’s gaze is fixed. “Is that why you’re here? Are you two friends now or something?”

The growling intensifies. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have. This isn’t a moment he wants to share. Not with him. Not with the one person who could break him down so completely, who could ruin everything like it was nothing. 

“I don’t like that, you know. What they’re doing.”

Garou stops moving. 

“Everybody knows Metal Bat. He talks about his sister in every meeting. I don’t think he would do something that would endanger her.” He drops his fist in his hand, as though something has made sense to him. “It was you, wasn’t it? Who they think he’s associating with. You two are friends now. Good thing Genos isn’t here...that probably wouldn’t be enough to stop him.”

Garou watches as Saitama moves, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I think,” he says, cracking his bare feet against the floor, “this is better for you, you know. Doing more of the hero thing. The villain thing was kind of half-assed, you know.”

Saitama walks away from the door he came out of, leaning against the wall.

“And I’m sure I’m probably already in trouble, but it’s going to be worse for you if you don’t go get him now. Because they’ll probably send one of those other heroes after you...maybe that scary girl that flies around.”

Every instinct Garou has is telling him this is a trick. A trap. Not to trust anything he says, to stay and fight.

But what is there to gain? What would be smarter or better than just letting the strongest hero kill him right here, right now? 

...he’s still not going to thank him. He won’t give him that satisfaction. 

Garou just smashes through the door and keeps running.

—

Badd wonders if he’s having some kind of out-of-body experience.

He can’t focus on anything, he realizes. Not asleep. Not awake. 

At one point he thinks...is he at the dentist? Because there’s something in his mouth, keeping him from putting his teeth together...but they don’t cuff your hands to the bed at the dentist, do they?

Now and then, he hears people talking.

At this moment? People are talking much louder. More excitedly. Above him, lights are moving quicker. He can see them around the mask over his nose. 

He’s in a hallway.

And everything is starting to feel...bumpy. Like there’s an earthquake. Is it an earthquake? Are they taking him somewhere safe?

...somewhere safe...because...this place isn’t safe, is it?

People start screaming, and suddenly something huge is standing over him. He’s staring into gray dark, and there are four limbs over top of where he is laying. Somehow, in all of the fog, it’s like…

It’s like he knows he’s being protected.

“Hnngh…?” He can’t talk with the thing in his mouth. And his hands are still trapped.

This...god, yes, this has to be a dream. It’s the only thing that makes sense when all the sounds stop and the creature backs up and stares down at him. A wolf. But...a statue of a wolf? No, more like a gargoyle, because there are cracks in the stone, and that’s falling away, getting smaller until…

Garou.

Garou’s here.

He tries to reach his hands out to him, but...right, no, those have to stay where they are. Except then Garou breaks the thick cuffs, and he’s snapping the harness that’s around his head, holding what he sees now is some kind of bit. He takes the mask off him too.

Slowly, he begins to come back into the real world.

“Garou…Garou, I…” Arms go around him, holding him so suddenly, so tightly, that his muscles object because… “How long have I been here?”

“Two days. I love you.”

Badd blinks. “Garou, it’s—”

“This is my fault. It’s all my fault. I ruined your life. I ruined your life, and they took you away, and if I had lost you, I would have...I don’t know what I would have done. And you would have been gone without me having said it back.”

Badd pulls back enough to look him in the face. He doesn’t even know how to describe the expression that’s there. Garou looks like he’s the one who was coming close to death. “I love you too. Okay? I’m okay. They probably...fuck, they were probably keepin’ me under and all so I wouldn’t trigger my Fightin’ Spirit. If I accidentally bit my tongue ‘r somethin.’”

Garou kisses him, and he kisses back. He’s pretty sure they both know this is not what they should be doing right now, but… 

“Zenko. Fuck, Zenko, is she—”

“She’s okay. So’s Tama.”

Even in spite of the terrible condition they are in, as Garou helps him out of what seems to be a modified hospital bed, Badd has to laugh. “Ya went back for Tama, huh…”

Garou picks up something off the floor. His jacket, he realizes, and Garou puts it on him, over the sort of sterile gown they changed him into. He takes a step and almost falls, and Garou picks him up effortlessly in his arms.

“Ya know...I didn’t think that the first time you would carry me like this would be so...dire, ya know?”

Garou’s face is starting to soften, and as he hears approaching footsteps - running, quickly - he takes them through an empty room. The windows overlook the city beyond. It’s a long way down, but...they’ve both managed from higher places. “Ready?” he asks.

Badd tucks his face into Garou’s neck and steals one last kiss before bracing himself. “Yeah...yeah. Let’s do this.”

He’s not lying. The rest of the details aren’t important. He just closes his eyes as Garou carries him through the glass and the air, into whatever comes next for them, trusting that he’ll get them there, no matter what. 

#my paperfics #one punch man #batarou #metal bat #badd #garou #angst #a lot of angst woof #that's really it that's the biggest tag honestly #it's fun though imagining what might happen to them next

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Next Caller Pt 51

For all the warm kisses in the world the stiffness in his body from those four bed kits hit him like a freight train upon waking. Sure he knew the bandaged fingers taped together would hurt but what seemed to be simple kits had him gladly accepting your body eased against his back to help him upright and onto his feet. The giggles did help, the ones you tried to not let him hear though for his good humor now it would be a long day ahead while you both eased around one another in the kitchen to fix up breakfast and peas for Kuu.

“Oh, um, I can come back here for lunch if you want, I’m sure Balin can let me out of inventory for an hour.” He rumbled lowly trying to mask his body’s wish to groan in his way to answer the door.

“That’s ok,” you called to his back, “Let you focus I’ll be ok here. Think it might rain anyways. Feels like it.”

Upon opening the front door into his chest Ori and Shari both jut forward at the crack of lightning splitting in a web all across the sky. To their steps around him the roll of thunder followed and he closed the door eyeing Mal’s scooter on the way down the street. “You would be right on that. Light show outside.” Making his way to the garage where he hit the door button to let Mal ride right in and hurry inside once she parked. “Thank you.” She whispered passing behind his back into the house shivering the static of that last bit of lightning off of her body.

“Not a problem. Is that a chicken?” He asked catching the head poking out of her jacket making him turn to follow her.

“No,” she replied entering the kitchen where your sigh was heard clearly seeing what she was pulling out of her jacket. “Now Jaqi I know what you’re thinking, just got the Mortar Boar settled into a new home now a new project animal. But Jaqi you have to see it!”

She opened her jacket and the irritated dark brown duck with a pink belly lined with hints of white to make it resemble a salmon to catch other fish lulled to security thinking when they dive that they are just another fish. Open mouthed you stared in her cradling its pale pink feet and you said, “That’s-!”

She nodded and adjusted the black wrap on its clearly injured wing ever so slightly, “I know! And I know the protocol is to call the Aviary but we couldn’t get through and I thought with your line to them they might pick up your call.”

“Those are supposed to be extinct!” You said watching as she brought a second bag forward that you crept closer to peek into seeing the illogically huge clutch of eggs found with the mother who was still carrying her own eggs clearly. “These aren’t her eggs she couldn’t have laid these with how many she’s still carrying!”

“I know! But this girl came in saying she found out her boyfriend was screwing around so she torched his stuff and then went to his work shed in the back yard and found these and there weren’t any other mothers but she’s got all these eggs and she’s still carrying more and even more Mortar Boar pups! Six of them! So I called Dain about the pups he took the train in yesterday, Truffles is so excited!”

Thorin’s glance in her backpack had him peering over her shoulder asking, “Did you know your bunny is nibbling on your notepad?”

She gasped at that and he gently reached in lifting the almost volleyball sized bunny that sniffed up at Thorin with ears flopped around its face while you asked, “What about this guy?”

Mal said, “I put him back in his carrier! I did!”

With a giggle you said, “Well apparently you got a cute ghost on your hands,” you said smoothing your fingers along its cheek tilting its head welcoming the pets. “I’ll get my phone.” By the time you returned you had the Aviary on the line, which was beyond thrilled to have the birds to add to their collection of two males and a younger female not ready to lay yet found last month. Sharing they sent a crew out to bring in to be there within the hour having been warned by a security guard of some more possibly injured birds. “That’s handled,” you said eyeing the bunny in Thorin’s arm nibbling on the strips of veggies he sliced for it making Mal smirk at the attention you both were giving the little guy.

Mal, “Thank you, for making the call.” Eyeing the duck on the ground beside her bag adjusting the blanket around all the eggs not willing to sit on them and risk a chance of damaging the eggs.

Thorin said, “I can stay a bit late till the crew shows up, so don’t worry about that.” Taking another bite of his food then easing another bit of food closer to the bunny, “I think this is one of those rabbits that gets huge.”

Mal nodded, “Almost two feet. Got a call about him yesterday his new owner is meant to be getting him this afternoon. I’ll have to call the manager when they open tell him he snuck into my bag. Can’t believe I didn’t notice.”

Shari asked, “Elured and Elurin aren’t coming today?”

“No,” you replied, “but I have the comic strip mock ups you can color for me along with some more images and scenes I’ve been doodling at work you can transfer to sketch sheets for spare things to do if you like?”

They both nodded and Ori said, “We just love working on this story, anything would be amazing. To help with.”

.

Listening in to the beginning of your description of what the teens were to start on Thorin kept hold of the Bunny amusing Mal even more that he wouldn’t put it down since joining them once dressed. The duck sat nibbling on the peas you had convinced her to eat with the help of Kuu who had come through to fetch his peas a bit late due to helping the triplet owls into their nest with their parents. The news of incoming crew from the Aviary was assured to not bother the greenhouse at all calming the family of owls upon their being informed that your friend had used your link to contact them to help the mother and eggs in need to their new home to heal and grow.

Where your usual radio intro would begin you timed with a tap of your finger to hit the play button on your booth monitor for the hour and a half of audio recorded. Confusing Mal until you slipped out of the booth to the narrator’s voice introducing the next piece of the world. A bit of lore, a tale of three skin changers and how they shaped Adrienne’s early life. Though her intro would not come until much later in the final ten minutes leaving the awe striking albeit confusing shift in the storyline away from Durin and Bunny to something needed to be played for others to understand the storyline coming later. Once outside you smiled to Thorin saying, “Took me ten takes to record this bit I can’t do it live.”

Thorin rumbled through a smirk, “Comedy?”

“Not to others not till later. It was a late addition so I know the context how it plays in later. Plus Cirdan and Cinnamon helped me with some of the voices. Their parts would have been the hardest for me to get right.”

.

That was the reason and with a smile you got to work on a longer version of the next commercial from its comic strip to fill in later with background by the twins in their return from Gondor. The handoff went smoothly with no distribution as promised to the owls and the ducks and eggs comfortably settled into their carriers to be settled into the nests made upon their arrival. The other ducks found before the stop at your place shared similar wing injuries to lessen their flight ability and eagerly moved to huddle around the eggs found joining the female that they apparently had left to watch their eggs while gone in search of food.

Regrettably, Thorin from his spot had to go and to your side he moved easing the Bunny from his arms to your lap in a lean. Pressing a lingering kiss to your temple there. Eyeing the blushing moment of Bunny fixing Durin’s collar ever so slightly brushing his jaw with her fingertips. And out it slipped, low and dropped in honey, “Menu Tessu,” (you mean everything to me), he had thought it but never said it, until now, two days after the discussion on when you might be comfortable expressing affections aloud and red cheeked you felt his embrace slip away and put he slipped mumbling, “My Mafioso, Food tonight, bye flopsy.”

Soft and long Mal squeaked in excitement as you took a moment to rest your head on the bunny’s to try and hide your warm cheeks trying to calm yourself making Ori and Shari just about burst out laughing if not for their wish to not embarrass you more.

 *

“Menu Tessu,” Thorin muttered to himself passing his cousins inside the office turning their heads from the door he made sure to close behind him.

Dwalin, “What now? Only asked how the night went.”

Sharply turned to his cousins once he slung his coat on the back of his chair, “I told her Menu Tessu!” That had their jaws drop, “Not two days since the night of our date when we have a discussion where we agree to take the Hobbitish way of tapering into sharing affections for one another aloud and boom! Blow that to bits! Not I love you! Fifty miles past that, that she’s my everything! In a goodbye hug!”

Dwalin, “I said I love you over coffee, and Bilbo came round, how did she take it? Did she say anything?”

“I left!” he said then sighed with a slightly dopey grin, “Her ears turned pink though.”

Balin stood from his desk to lean against the other side of it to be closer to Thorin, palms lifted to press together with lips pursed a moment, “Word for word, what was said?”

“I said, Menu Tessu, kissed her temple and left the room saying, My Mafioso, food tonight, bye flopsy.”

Balin, “Flopsy? Where does the flopsy-?”

That had Thorin gasp and rub his hands over the face, “I named the bunny! She’s gonna think I want it, that I’m demanding we keep it! I just didn’t want it hopping around chewing on anything or leaving droppings anywhere! Now I dropped the bomb and demanded a stowaway bunny!”

Dwalin waved his hands, “Whoa, for us on two feet, what bunny?”

Thorin said, “Mal found these endangered ducks at work and they couldn’t get the Aviary so she brought them and asked Jaqi to call for her. Then I look in her bag and this massive bunny that someone else is meant to pick up this afternoon snuck into Mal’s bag and was nibbling on her things so I held the bunny that I passed to Jaqi before I left.”

Balin’s eyes narrowed, “When did you leave she’s live.”

“No,” Thorin shook his head, “Apparently this bit took ten takes to record she said there was no way she could do it live as she gets the context we won’t know till later in the series. Late addition.”

Dwalin nodded and said, “So, she didn’t act upset?”

“I left! And it’s not my fault I go to have this unimaginable date with her then we hear from you that there’s two surprise babies coming, giggle party and then we were talking to Gorgo on the way back and she gets our clan father. She doesn’t get the culture, but absolutely for the first time someone truly gets him. And I am just supposed to not burst when my mind wanders to that smile of hers knowing that the beds my every inch is throbbing from assembling will have mattresses I’m going to order on lunch arrive so she can make them and get that same impossible smile on her face when she marks them off the list for our home once made. I don’t know how I was supposed to wait but I promised to be more Hobbity and I can’t wait two days to say she’s my everything?!”

Balin, “Surely she loves you in return.”

Thorin exhaled, “We did state we know there is love there, mutually, we said we’ve never been in love and she’s rightfully scared to go there yet and I don’t want to force her hand but I couldn’t have just said I loved her?! Why do I do this? It’s the breasts thing all over again!”

Dwalin laughed at that, “Thorin, breathe, if you need lunch off,”

Thorin, “She said she doesn’t want to disturb our work, this was before the hug goodbye and my bomb.”

Dwalin, “Then just, when she gets home from the hotel have dinner, hug, tell her hello and give Hobbity another go. You’ve said it, not likely to be an everyday bomb.”

Thorin could only huff out, “You have a point.”

Balin rubbed his arm, “I am proud you got it out. So hard the first time. Now, to distract you, I have some yawning videos and sleep stretches I recorded of the twins! My Love sent me along here after I spent most of the night fawning over our duo, trying to tire me out so I sleep when I get home for a cuddle together.”

 *

“He loves you,” Mal smiled in sharing with the bunny settling in her arms once lifted from its nap on the fuzzy carpet it chose to curl up on. Smiling at you as she said, “And he named this one flopsy. I think he wants a bunny.”

“Doubtful, I think he was just nervous.” You said hearing the car the duo had raced off to pulling away post rapid hug from the pair grateful for another day of unmatchable training in their chosen field.

Mal nodded and claimed a hug smirking to herself at your returned blush joining you to the garage which she drove out of glad for the lull in the rain to get to her apartment where Bilbo agreed to drive her to return the bunny. Back inside however lost to your uncertainty to how you truly felt towards Thorin to one day soon be able to name it you sat eyeing the notes of that song for Durin while eating. Allowing the oddity of the situation stir up the well needed juice for your mind to run off of to get what you needed. Once finished it was off to the atrium you went to take a seat at your piano for a curious medley for your new birds hearing it for the first time.

To the melody you hummed the notes grew in time rebuilding those old memories to when you first drafted it on the boat ride back from Ruun. Mournful and somehow intoxicating to hear the last love dripping note the song built ebbing and flowing to the disaster of Durin’s assumed disgrace at being refused by the love he knew to be his One. Humming along Kuu’s own current song took a bit of justice from the notes provided while the other birds feeling the effects for the first time soaked in the strength your music seemed to give. Deep in their hollow bones to the tips of their sturdiest feathers the birds sat in what seemed to be an enveloping hug of warm wishes, magic imbued in the song to build up their strength while the plants of your greenhouse gave a gentle glow while the flowering trees among them swayed to the tune.

Another oddity of finding someone of your caliber here, even the new birds had sensed a pain in you but they could have never imagined this, overwhelming sense of compassion just exploding from your very core. They were safe here, they knew that already. This was a haven, and you were its keeper and even Darling in her deepest natural worries on her age could almost feel that weariness wearing away, along with possibly an extension of her limited life. Belly was larger and stronger than he ought to be. And with this magic she knew why, intentionally or otherwise that overflow of compassion had been soaked up by him, Kuu and the hummingbird flock now dancing on air around their glowing and growing butterfly bush for a snack of the sweeter nectar it was to give in these precious moments of your songs.

This was what they could not see at first, the odd bird inside of you with this ethereal heart wrenching song locked in you. One tune bled to another and while growing in glee held the same unspoken fears deep deep below its cheerful glow. This was why Kuu sang his songs each night, hatching and growing to your music he wished to touch others hearts how you surely did and safe and warm in their back up nest on their way to sleep the owl family seemed to join along to tunes ended with a rippling yawn. Sleep won out and fluffed up safe and sound lost to their dreams they danced on colorful bursts of air echoing of songs of old yet to be heard by their innocent ears.

Work surely came and stilled to focus on what you might say the shift seemed to snap by with what felt to be a blink between when you had left the garage to returning to it. Just a moment you lingered in the car hearing the rain fall along with the entire speech you had tried to assemble. Eyes clenched you simply drew in a breath and climbed out of the car to head inside. Locking up behind you with coat on its hook by the door to head deeper inside the warm hearty smelling home.

Right on his face you could see the nerves and up to his hand wringing self you went earning a wide grin at the stretch to your toes bringing him in for a welcome home kiss one of those hands found its place back on your cheek through the stretch of it. “Come eat, some nice warm pasta fiasco for you.”

The name made you giggle and move in to claim your spot next to his, and with fingers tapping to the fork he laid out in the view of his timid confused gaze for the pause he heard and saw you say. “I just, about earlier,” he nodded and in a bold move reached over to take your other hand also tapping on the table wrapping his around it entirely with a kind grin easing out to lull you onwards. “I’ve written the words before, and aside from family I’ve clearly never heard them. And I’m not trying to lessen them, by saying, thank you.”

Across his face a grin split and for a moment he simply smiled at you adoringly with a you’re welcome of a nod, until low and sweet he rumbled, “There is something, unwritten in my culture, to honor your One’s clan and ancestors, it can take centuries and often ends in an accepting tolerance. Just, the pure, exultation of knowing bits of this story involving my clan, even imaginative, to the core you somehow see who they are, who we are. I truly cannot fathom the words to express how safe that makes me feel with you for our future together. I am easily pushed to unexpected outbursts by either impatience or my own stubbornness, I just hope one day to let you feel this safety. Much more than fear from physical harm, that of my understanding of those you love, cherish, who shaped you and will be my family too one day. For now, please eat.” He said leaning in to kiss your knuckles on the hand he lifted to his lips then returned to the table.

Softly however you asked, “If we hadn’t met do you think your clan would have still been all for the show and book?”

Smiling at you he hummed back, “We would have met, million different scenarios, we would have met, and we will always love your stories. This is no farce to simply draw you into our fold more, you don’t find stories like you just lying around every day, and I can’t tell you how deeply it struck Dis and Vili the most along with Mili and Tili for all those years we could have known you. Could have clung closer, you built a life on impossibilities and it is an explosion from that book. I hope you don’t mind I read a chapter from the first movement, I have never read anything like it before, and if not for Roac reminding me of our gardening appointment I would have been reading still right now until I finished it all.”

“You have your own patch of impossible you know,” you replied bashfully looking to your plate deepening his grin in a glance down of his own to not push you for the meaning clear to him behind those words. He could wait, because he knew when they came from you it would be unlike anything he’d ever felt before, no matter how timid or bold the delivery. “Roac likes to garden?” You asked in a glance over catching his eyes that were already on you again taking in the grin cracking across your lips.

“He does. Helps to dig and mark out some of my herbs. Also, found some cuttings for the front garden, have them in some pots in the greenhouse to build up some girth before planting them outside, hopefully when these rains stop closer to summer I will have something respectable for you to boast about. Roac also wants something to attract fireflies and lady bugs, Dot loves them, and, mattresses are coming on Wednesday and stud finder worked out your painting is on full display in its new home in the living room.”

“Mmm, my chairs,” you said around your mouthful and he nodded lowering his own fork.

“They came, put them in their right rooms, we can adjust them on Thursday morning if you like. The sea foam, orange/blue, orange/white and the peach rooms all have their chairs with matching footrests. Plus, hope you don’t mind I found a cute rug you might like for your sisters’ room. Balin has been looking for when his pebbles get bigger for their nursery’s second phase and said he’d give me the clipping when they were done looking through the catalogs, for under their reading corner sort of like the one in your studio but white and peach fluff. Quite an interesting pattern, kind of like clouds on a peach sunset blowing into shapes, if that makes sense, I think you’d like it.”

“Sounds lovely for it.” Easing out his smile again proud of his tiny contribution and excited to see you mark off the seating and foot stools from your home journal.

.

Half a minute of radio silence began the Bunny Show until with a hand over the mic muffled conversation came clearer into focus on what would be the most Hobbit themed bit yet. From doilies to a competition where people chase a block of cheese down a massive hill the audience listened and laughed along with the stunned Durin the Deathless upon being asked along to this event. What he had taken as a private time alone to meet with the clan of his beloved mysterious One in the green half of a partly ruined Hobbiton he stood amongst the crowds while his Bunny helped to tape up appendages and bandage scrapes from the onslaught while the Victor held their block of cheese aloft and grimaced through the pain of their dislocated ankle and knee from a last minute tumble over the finish line for the obligatory pictures.

Nonsense, all of this was nonsense but it came with a deeper story that over the mead afterwards tugged at the heartstrings of those who knew the sacking of a lost Hobbiton. The block of cheese was symbolic as a made up competition that a group of fauntlings avoided execution for having been caught stealing from the Big People in the town nearby that gained them attention and willing ears to collide with to overthrow the Goblin King who had enslaved and began to starve and cut down their populace to regain control.

One block of cheese was once held aloft, the first of the fake competition the Goblin King oversaw and awarded the ‘customary’ wreath of flowers that upon his having uncovered and touched burned his fingers and palms so badly that when the Big People sprung from behind the trees he could not do a thing to defend himself from their volley above the heads of the Hobbits now tucked in balls in the sea of tall grass. One block of cheese and their people were freed and each year now in participation with promise that their kin would make annual trips to ensure the fair Hobbit populace was continually in bliss and free the Big People stood and lay side by side is shared agony and mutters for the idiocy of the occasion that tradition would never break to honor that bond and those brave starving fauntlings who gained them aid.

Why was Bunny there? No one listening in could find the link until a mention was made that her ancestor was one of those who aided the thieves in confirming the truth of their fib that there was a competition, the very one that the Goblin King had chosen to work inside of his dwelling, the one he stole from her. A young Hobbitess who years later wed a wandering Elf Lord with whom had an extensive branch of Half Hobbits renowned for many a skilled heir to bring pride to the line. The first, in a way, amongst her own kind that shed a new light upon his one as being one of the firstborn line of her own race. Though for his irritation an assumption of a lack of relatives was revealed to be quite the opposite as amongst the sea of celebrating Half Hobbits and Elves in the chosen pub five meads in and the King sat wide eyed staring at her great great grandmother who could pass for a twin to his One.

Chuckles from those listening in came to the subtle means to shift his try to make good impressions to each person in the room as any could rightly so object to any union or bond. However to the delight of the Durin clan the show ending image was of wide eyed Durin in the middle of a field now accomplice to the very thievery of veggies from farmers now in chase with hoes aloft to capture him and the unchangeable fauntlings bent on the very act of theft he had tried to persuade them from committing.

 *

 “Aribella, that was bold to add her name in the story. Accurate, but bold,” Dwalin muttered in a raucous crowd of voices in the show between sentences that moved the show onwards. It truly was bold, Lady Aribella, as the half Hobbitess in question who married the Lord Baldr, also known famously around the globe to have been Durin the Deathless’ best friend in each of his lives who thanks to his bond in matrimony with his One had been gifted eternal life to spend with his beloved and their family. The both of whom were notoriously tight lipped about the fabled Durin between his lifetimes and refused almost always any use of their names in anything aside from charities or notices from their own endeavors to their clan companies. And the Durins weren’t the only ones to harbor dread for the legal battle that would surface if the couple were against their likeness being included in this episode. Let alone the book the world was on the verge of tears in belief the thing would have to be stripped of their mentions while copies of this show were to be scrubbed offline and shelved to never be aired again when the inevitable outcry would be announced.

Buzzes from phones however came in a tidal wave with a much more stunning announcement from the very same clan who all were awaiting response from the press had contacted immediately upon the first mention.

From Lady Aribella herself the notice read across the brief article being flooded any and everywhere stated,

‘From the heart of our clan we are as always eternally grateful for the respect of warnings upon notice of the use of our names from the public that have aided in our much appreciated privacy. We thank you for your diligence and also do wish to return a statement in response to all inquiries of our opinions on the material that has presented so admirably across the airwaves in such a heartwarming tale or adventure and intrigue that has a fond place within our hearts.

For at the very heart of it we have been granted the indescribable honor of watching our beloved great grandniece Jaqiearae Pearisiyiae at the helm of narrating and guiding the flow of the radio show in this enthralling marvel of airtime none else but this one station was bold enough to grant a chance to share with the public after so long being set aside by those wishing to silence her voice. We will never be anything but proud and fiercely protective of her endeavors to give this story the respect it deserves. And through her, myself and my treasured husband Lord Baldr, were granted the magnificent chance to aid in confirmation of character for our dear friend Durin the Deathless amongst several other characters. Both under their true names and those renamed to expand upon these tales encased inside this series of novels we hear one day soon shall begin to be shared with all of those whom have joined us in adoration for all they contain and shall grow to be.

We thank you again and in closing grant you a hint towards the next chapter upon which this show delves : A much needed feather, and Cantaloupe scented mittens.

The Honorable Keeper of the Keys Lady Aribella Corrupter of Durin the Deathless & The Guardian of the Gates of Gronkdlhelm Lord Baldr the Ever-Obstinant Foe of the sunken lands to the West of Bree & our beloved ever growing ranks of Pirates Free.’

“Thorin pinch me I can’t feel my arms,” Balin muttered to Dwalin’s repeated murmur, “Great Grandniece to Lady Aribella?!”

Thorin rumbled back, “I would pinch you if I could feel my own arms, how did we not talk about this? She’s one of the Pirates Free.” He murmured to the realization you were a part of their clan that they had named as such including adopted members as well who were held to immeasurable esteem amongst the Dwarf populace for renowned histories in both battle and the arts that have shaped this world through the ages.

Balin let out a deep breath and answered, “Perhaps she was honoring their privacy. And it would explain how she got his character so close.”

All Thorin could say to that was, “They’re going to be at our wedding.”

Dwalin muttered, “Or sooner, might fly out for the premier of the novel,” to the nearness of a pair of women that came to the counter. Wide eyed to question if the trio of Durins were aware of this earth trembling news each Durin in time by noon would have their own moment of shock to the news yet to be shared from their beloved newest member of the clan. While the world reeled on what the clue could mean and the fact that there was not just one book to be revealed but a whole series.

 *

 “Aribella?” Mal asked when you when you exited the booth. “I love you Jaqi, but, isn’t that like playing with fire involving her name? You do know how protective they are, right?”

“Ya, she’s my Great Grand Aunt,” promptly Mal clamped her lips to muffle the squeak she couldn’t hold in. “When I showed my Naneth and hers my draft they called her and Great Grand Uncle Baldr over to have a look. Said I got a good bit true to it. But I think they partly spoke about it to keep me from sinking back in again. Baldr said I was almost like myself again when I talked about the story. They didn’t go and share everything but a lot of how Durin shaped out to be was from what they did share.”

In a squeak she came closer saying, “Jaqi, how did this not come up before?”

“I, well, that was me. But I did email them this show would have them in it and apparently when I started the show they started prepping a press release for approval so the world doesn’t explode with questions for them.”

To your odd expression she asked, “What else?”

Simply you grinned at her and shook your head, “Just, their show of arms that it isn’t just the Durins and Naneth’s clan to back me up now, in case my father’s old friends tried anything. Not that the Durins aren’t strong enough, just,”

Ori said in the close of his bag, “No, Lord Baldr has twelve clans from each of the seven Fathers of the Dwarves who are behind him. He is formidable,”

Shari said, “We don’t fault what your statement is, it is true, the Durins are a mighty clan but even we would have some doing to get our allies to back us in legal battles while those clans it would take a mention and they would be preparing their legal resources.”

You said, “They’ve done what they can to keep my old show on air in Hobbit territories all these years for something to show for my hard work. Other projects they did the same and tried to stave off the red tape until we caved and stepped away. Things look clear so far, they just want to put up ranks to ward off any possible threat.”

Mal’s phone buzzed along with the couples’ in their switch on again to not have interrupted the show and the notices of messages from the clan had the couple trade hugs and goodbyes to claim the ride to the clan meeting that had been called. When alone with Mal you said, “I hope they won’t be mad for not sharing about them.”

Promptly she gave you a hug stating, “They will understand. Everyone always asks questions about them and they were best friends with Durin in every lifetime, they would have questions. They won’t be mad, if anything this meeting will be about adjusting to a possible future meeting, as I bet around the release your family will want to come to the party for the book release party. Because they always show support for the few projects allowed to have their names in them. Or at the very least the distant wedding.”

With a roll of your eyes you led her to the garage after having locked up the house to head off to lunch with Thorin, as the door rolled up however he asked you, “How did the night go after his share of devotion?”

Your eyes met hers to your hand folding around the fob for the car you’d chosen to drive for the warning of mist when you would return from the hotel later, “I told him thank you,” she nodded and you shared, “He’s being patient with me, we talked about it. A good part of it is my knowing his clan First Born and his character really touches him. Said it’s a trust step to know each other’s clans.” That had Mal nod and you wet your lips to say, “Just trying to not scare myself. The words are so hard, the twins, Thran, Glori and Echo, I’ve known them nearly my whole life. All of them are practically or distantly family.” To the tears in your eyes she moved closer to stroke your arm, “I know he’s not going to run away.”

“Don’t you push on that. Even the boys and me we haven’t shared steadfast declarations yet. Dwarf courting is patient, steadfast for a reason. Even more so when one party has been hurt and you have to remember Muffin Man, his fear for losing you, you know he loves you and in that swirl of confusion to name what you feel just to yourself Adad says that is the hardest milestone just internally for ourselves, even with Ones.”

You nodded and glanced away blinking the tears back and flashed her another grin, “Cirdan’s been messaging me about that in our emails. How I can sort of use his and Naneth’s path to courtship to help me with my trust the world won’t fall away if I let go. But I’ll be ok. I’m sure now that the betrothal has been named publicly Aribella and Baldr will have plenty of tips as well they will be bursting with. I know I got several emails with my ex and it barely lasted a blink.”

That had Mal grin at you, “Well then surely that will bolster your sails. They can give you ample Dwarfly steps to solidify your own foundation. You can do this. You just have to go have lunch with a Durin in a struggle with his own barrage of questions.” That had you giggle and watch her climb onto her scooter in your path around the car to climb in.

Pt 52

All –

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

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

x Thorin – @evyiione​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor​

Next Caller - @avaria-revallier​​, @bun-bun-the-rabbit

#thorin x oc #At Home #Sore Morning #OC Mal #Animal Surprise #Aviary Newcomers #Big Bunny #Uncontrollable Utterance #Shared Hidden Alliance #Hobbit #Tea Shop AU

[whenputtingpentopaper]

The Song

Part I - Kili’s Mistake

Part: I 

A/N: I know the imagine is five years old, but I always loved reading the works that came of it. This is my own spin on the prompt, and there will be multiple parts. This is just the first. This is also my first work for this blog, and I’m very happy to get it out there. It was a joy to write over the past week. Also, the song is the Celtic Women’s version of Mo Ghile Mear, which is originally based on a poem about the Jacobite Rising of 1715. It has an interesting history, but I picked this version because it was the one that came to me when I thought of what the reader might sing. Because it isn’t native to Middle Earth, I changed the meaning of the song a bit; although, if you look at the translated lyrics of the chorus, it could imply the meaning I have assigned to it. Please, give it a listen; everything about it--the vocals, music, lyrics--are beautiful!

Also, requests are currently open, so request here. I am currently accepting requests for headcanons, blurbs, drabbles & one-shots!

Pairing: Kili (Tolkien) x Reader

Words: 2447

Synopsis: Based on the following ImaginexHobbit imagine found here.

Rated: T

Warnings: Language, Nudity & Sexual Themes

Can you feel the river run? Waves are dancing to the sun Take the tide and face the sea And find a way to follow me

The soft lilt of your voice carried through the silence of the night, your only accompaniment the gentle whisper of leaves, the barely there hum of woodland critters, and the sound of drops, rolling down your bare skin to fall to the river from whence they came. Fortunately, the wind was forgiving, tepid against your cooled skin, and the water that surrounded your body up to your waist was the perfect temperature. Refreshing but not freezing.

Leave the field and leave the fire And find the flame of your desire Set your heart on this far shore And sing your dream to me once more

Lifting your arms to bring your brush through another section of hair, you resumed your singing, eyes falling closed.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

It was an old song but pretty, one your mother had used to sing to you when you were but a wee thing. Her ethereal voice combined with the melodic yet mysterious chorus were enough to soothe you to slumber. It was a comfort, even later on in your life, when you learned of the sad story the lyrics were weaving. A woman losing her love; a heartbreaking premise if there ever was one. And yet, it was as beautiful as the full moon’s reflection on this clear night.

Now the time has come to leave Keep the flame and still believe Know that love will shine through darkness One bright star to light the wave

Scooping up some water with your free hand, you brought the liquid to your right arm, rubbing gently against your skin and removing the dirt and grime that had built up from being on the road the past few days. You switched your brush to the opposite palm, repeating the process on the opposite side. It felt so good to be clean, which was why you couldn’t resist the opportunity to break away from your company of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit to come down to this river. You had known it to be here, having passed it earlier in the evening, just before Thorin had decided it was time they make camp. The lot of them had been so excited to finally sit in front of a fire and eat, but not you. Food could wait. You longed for a bath, knowing the last one you had was back in Rivendell.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

You began to braid together the locks of your damp hair, having learned your lesson about letting it fly free while you roamed about Middle Earth. As your fingers twisted in and out, you began to head back towards shore, the wind having a slight chill to it now as it hit more and more of exposed skin. You broke out in gooseflesh as your feet left the water for the fine sand that made the shore. Quickly, urged on by the sudden cold and your nakedness, you finished the large plait, securing it with a band before letting it fall limp against your back. 

Lift your voice and raise the sail Know that love will never fail Know that I will sing to you Each night as I dream of you

You waited a few minutes, using your hands to warm your shoulders as you walked over to the small towel you had laid out on a nearby rock. A tunic and trousers lay beside it, without dampness and warm and calling to you, but you took some time to dry yourself off, bending over to start with your legs before bringing the towel over your stomach and chest. Your arms were last, and the air would remove whatever wetness remained on your cheeks.

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

Finally dressed, you gathered your towel and brush, walking back towards the campsite, using deep dwarfish laughter as your guide. There was a slight upslope towards them with trees littering the path you made, but now that you were in a few layers and shoes, you did not mind the walk, continuing to sing softly to yourself until you came to the end of the song. 

A few moments later, you were being greeted by smiles and Bofur asking about your bath.

“It was wonderful, and definitely something I needed,” you responded as you placed your items by your pack before joining the Company around the fire. A bowl was put into your lap, filled about halfway with some stew. It was still steaming, thankfully, and you immediately began to eat, your stomach aching now with the prospect of being filled with food, and Bombur’s food to boot!

“Perhaps we should all partake in a bath before setting out in the morrow,” Bilbo nonchalantly suggested from beside you, and you hid your smile behind the rim of your bowl. He had been complaining of the stench that seemed to permeate the Company; you weren’t the only one having gone without a proper cleansing since your time with the elves.

The golden-haired dwarf was the first to respond to the hobbit’s suggestion, his eyes going wide with mock outrage. “Why, Bilbo, are you suggesting that we stink?”

“You know what, Fili, I think he is suggesting such a thing,” Kili said, lightly hitting his brother’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “The nerve. Especially when he smells just as bad.”

“Aye,” agreed his brother, leaning towards him as he eyed Bilbo with a frown. “If not worse.”

The hobbit looked absolutely livid by the two young dwarves’ banter, and the scowl on his face with his glare directed at them had the opposite effect than what had been desired. The brothers bursted out into laughter, and the rest of the group soon joined in at poor Bilbo’s expense. Even you, who normally took pity on the object of Kili’s and Fili’s wrath were not immune to the infectious hysterics. And so, the rest of the evening continued on with small talk and howling among companions; nothing of any real note happened until you were settling down for the night.

The trouble started as you were laying out your bedroll beneath a tree, close to Bilbo and Kili, who was in the midst of doing the same. Fili was taking first watch, meaning he was away from his younger brother, and therefore, not being influenced to partake in his dastardly whims. The camp was quiet because of this, several of the company’s members already burrowed beneath their blankets, soothed to sleep by the crickets and frogs, voicing their own soothing lullaby. 

But they were not the only ones singing. 

'Sé mo laoch mo ghile mear 'Sé mo Shéasar, gile mear

It was the brunet Durin, murmuring the words to your song. 

Suan gan séan ní bhfuair mé féin Ó chuaigh I gcéin mo ghile mear

And there was only one possible way he could have heard it, as you had never, ever sung in the presence of any of the men you were currently traveling with. You couldn’t. Not knowingly. You had an awful case of nerves whenever asked to perform in front of others, so to have learned the lyrics to that song…

“Kili!” his name was a horrified gasp from your lips, and he froze in his work, his back still to you. He had gone silent, the rest of the words dying in his throat when he realized he had been caught.

You stepped over your bedroll before taking another long stride to find yourself leaning down into the young Dwarf’s face, hands on your hips. “How do you know that song?”

Kili audibly gulped, chocolate brown eyes straying from yours as he took a few moments to try and come up with some sort of an excuse, but having you this close to him, even with all your ire drifting off of your form in waves, was chasing away any coherent thought, let alone a proper explanation. And as more time passed in silence, he could feel your glare sharpening, as if getting ready to pierce right through him. His lips parted, having found his throat had gone dry, and he sucked in a bit of air to try and buy himself some more time. Of course, he had nothing to say. What could he say when it was quite obvious just where he had heard that song before?

But your patience had, apparently, run out, and more than anything, you felt the sting of betrayal. This dwarf, this wonderful goofy man-child that you had come to care for, clearly wasn’t the gentleman you had initially learned him to be. All those offerings of hands to keep you from tripping, giftings of his blanket to keep you warmer at night and all those questions regarding your well-being, where had they stemmed from? How could the same person that had been so kind and polite towards you--with the occasional, meaningless prank--peak on you while you were in the middle of a bath? You had told him where you were going because you trusted that he would keep the others from following; it most certainly had not been an invitation for a private viewing party. 

Unable to bear his presence any longer, you spun away from him, crossing the short distance to your bedroll and gathering it up in your arms along with the rest of your things. You walked around the Hobbit, who was currently feigning sleep to make it seem that he hadn’t been listening to your whole exchange with the young prince, and set yourself up so that he was your buffer. The whole while, you felt Kili’s eyes at your back, and when you went to lay down for the evening, in your periphery, you noticed that he had not moved from where you had left him, only now, he looked positively guilty, head hanging and bottom lip in an almost-pout. 

Your heart--infernal thing that it was--ached at his expression. He looked even smaller than usual--being a human, you were taller than him--but you couldn’t let that get to you. What he did was wrong. And the fact he had no explanation for his behavior confirmed the worst for you. He had really just come down to the river to get an eyeful of you; the performance was just an extra, one that had lingered in his mind. 

It stung, and you had trouble falling asleep that night, your back to both Bilbo and Kili. That next morning, it was Fili--not his brother--that had tapped your shoe with the tip of his boot, stirring you from slumber. Dazed, you lifted your head slowly, looking at him over your shoulder.

“Time to get up, Y/N. Thorin wants us to move out soon,” the blond dwarf said with a pitying smile; it was clear that he had woken you from a deep sleep.

Once he had walked off, you gave yourself a moment and a good stretch before getting to your feet and starting on packing. 

Beside you, Bilbo was just finishing up with his bedroll when he turned to you. The hobbit watched you for a few minutes, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally stepped towards you and said what was on his mind, “I, um, I know it probably isn’t any of my business, but your father did ask that I keep an eye out for you while on this journey. And I, obviously, saw what had happened between you and Kili last night. It isn’t clear to me what had transpired; all I gathered from the situation was that you weren’t happy he knew that song he had been singing. However, if you do feel like talking, know that I am more than willing to lend an ear, should you need it.”

It was a sweet sentiment, one that made you smile at him as you straightened to your full height. “Thanks, Bilbo. I appreciate you being willing to do that for me, but this is really between Kili and I.”

“Understood,” he responded with a nod, curls bouncing with the movement. “But if you change your mind, don’t be afraid to come to me.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Unfortunately for Kili--and Fili, too, who had to hear his brother’s lamenting whenever the two of them were alone--your way of handling the situation was to completely avoid him. If he brought his pony up by yours, you’d urge yours to go a bit faster, moving between two company members so that the brown-haired prince had no choice but to remain behind you. If he tried to talk to you once camp was set, you’d make your way over to Bilbo or Bofur and talk to them as if Kili hadn’t just called your name. If you woke in the morning to find his blanket over you, you’d fold it up and place it by him. But what killed the young dwarf the most was the fact that you wouldn’t even look at him, and you didn’t do it with such conviction, too, as if your eyes landing upon his features would cause you to turn to stone. That was preposterous, of course, but damn it all! He missed you!

For you, there was a simple reason for gazing everywhere but at Kili’s face. If you didn’t see the puppy dog eyes, they would have no effect on you. Plain and simple. Although, after a couple days of this, you were beginning to miss him, too. This had gone on for long enough. It was childish behavior on your part--both Bilbo and Fili had said so--but they did not know what he had done! And to fix things between the two of you, a talk would have to happen, one you weren’t sure you were ready to have since it would involve bringing up the fact he had been peeping on you down at the river.

So things continued to be painful for the Company, as neither of you could find the will to broach the subject with the other, until the two of you had no choice but to have that awkward conversation. 

The setting? Mirkwood’s dungeon.

#kili x reader #kili imagine #kili x you #kili x y/n #kili fanfic #kili fanfiction #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit reader-insert #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #tolkien imagine #tolkien reader-insert #tolkien x reader #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fanfic #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings reader-insert #lord of the rings x reader #imaginexhobbit #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction #lotr reader-insert #reader-insert #lotr x reader

[d3-iseefire]

Nevermore Chapter Six

The man was moaning again, and shifting restlessly on the bed. His skin was scorching to the touch, so Bilba grabbed a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with water and ice cubes. 

As she started to carry it, and a handful of rags, back to the bedroom she was startled by the sound of a large thump. She hurried down the hall, only to stumble to a stop at the sight of the man on his knees next to the bed. 

Bilba quickly set the bowl down on the dresser, and then hesitated. The man was swaying, a glazed look in his half-open eyes. They fixed sluggishly on her, and he frowned. “Who are you?”

His sway suddenly became more severe and, without thinking, Bilba darted forward and dropped to her knees in front of him. She planted her hands on his chest, trying to keep him up. It sort of felt like trying to stop a boulder rolling down a hill. 

“You met me at the park,” she got out as she struggled to keep him from falling, and taking her with him. If he landed on top of her there’d be no getting him off, and a very real risk of her being suffocated by his sheer weight on top of her. “Remember? I got lost? You helped me find my way out?”

He managed to straighten himself, taking the pressure off her, though she could still feel his weight shifting against her hands as she continued to try and keep him upright. 

His eyes sharpened slightly. “Trap,” he muttered, gaze roving around the room. “There was a trap.”

“That’s right.” Bilba pushed on him, trying to encourage him to move back. “Come on. You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“No, I --” he put his hands on her arms as if to move her out of the way but even in his fevered state his grip was gentle. “I need to go.”

“Not yet.” Bilba struggled to push him back, toward the bed. “You’re sick. You need to lie down.”

His eyes narrowed but, to her surprise, he obediently struggled shakily to his feet. He tried to put pressure on his injured foot, only to give a pained grunt and stagger off balance. Bilba jumped to her feet and threw her arms around his waist. The action managed to shift his balance of gravity just enough to send him falling back into a seated position on the edge of the bed. 

“Hot,” he grumbled. His fingers fumbled at the buttons on his shirt. “Why is it so hot?”

“Because you’re sick,” Bilba repeated patiently. She hesitated, and then lightly brushed his fingers aside to undo the buttons for him. She’d taken a first aid class once that had said the neck and under the arms were some of the best places to apply ice water to try and get someone’s body temperature down. It’d be easier to reach both places if he had his shirt off. 

And, if she were being honest, she could confess to the selfish desire to see if he had a soulmark anywhere on his chest or back. 

She slid his shirt off his shoulders, and helped him pull it off his arms. He was extremely fit, to the point she wondered if the exercise he got as a wolf translated into his human form. She assumed it must to some extent, given how the injury he’d sustained as a wolf had carried over. 

There were no marks on his arms, chest or back and she tried not to feel disappointed. It simply meant that either he didn’t have a soulmark or...her eyes drifted toward his jeans, and then jerked away instantly, heat flooding her face. Nope, not going there. 

She grabbed his legs and tried to lift them, hoping to encourage him to lie down. A brief look of amusement crossed his features, before he allowed her to help him turn and stretch back out on the bed. 

Bilba retrieved the bowl and rags and soaked them in the ice water. “This is going to suck,” she warned him, before she started laying out the rags on his neck, and chest. He let out a hiss of displeasure, but didn’t resist as she swiped cold water under his arms and down along his face, cleaning off the sweat and grime that had built up on his skin. 

The water must have relaxed him because, by the time she was done, he had drifted off again. He wasn’t moaning anymore in his sleep, or moving around, and Bilba hoped both were signs he’d gotten better and not worse. 

She put the bowl and rags down, retrieved her phone and sat next to him on the bed, legs curled under her. “All right,” she told his unconscious figure. “Let’s see if we can find your family.”

She had no idea where to start so, with no other ideas in mind, she pulled up a search engine on the internet, typed in “Kili, Erebor” and hit search. Perhaps, if she were very lucky, the name would be rare enough that --

Her thoughts trailed off as the search results popped up. There were no “Kili’s” that she could see in any of the search results, but there were a number of similar sounding names. Maybe Kili was a nickname?

Above the results, the search engine had pinned a banner to the top, just under the search bar. It featured a photo of a young, dark haired man in what was clearly a high quality, professional photograph. He was gazing off stoically into the distance, and wore some sort of military style jacket with a variety of medal looking things, and a purple sash crossing from one shoulder to the waist on the other side of his body. 

Kilian Durin, the caption next to his name read. Prince of Erebor and third in line to the throne. 

“Good for you,” Bilba muttered. Clearly, he wasn’t --

Her thoughts stumbled to a stop as she caught sight of an image gallery under the banner, showcasing photographs of the young prince gathered from around the internet. 

Quite a few of the photos featured him with other people, family members if she had to guess based on the clear familiarity. In particular, a number of the pictures featured a young, blond man...one who looked very much like --

Bilba shook her head. Don’t be ridiculous. It was because the photos were so small. She clicked on one to bring it up. Once it was full size she had no doubt that --

“Oh,” she breathed, her mind screeching to a halt.

It was him. 

She looked at the man sleeping beside her, and then back to the picture as if it would somehow change. 

It didn’t. 

He looked healthier of course in the picture, and was smiling, one arm thrown around the prince, Kilian...Kili. 

Her heart started to beat harder and her breathing grew short. There was no caption for the picture and, suddenly desperate to slow the inevitable, Bilba went back to the search bar and entered “Kili, Erebor, blond man.”

“Please just be a fan,” she murmured. “Or a servant, or...something.”

She hit enter. 

A new banner popped up. The picture was undeniably the man beside her, dressed similarly to Kilian with his hair neatly styled and a stoic, look of calm determination on his face. 

Filian Durin, the caption next to his name read. Prince of Erebor and second in line to the throne.

Bilba dropped her phone, and shut her eyes. She felt like she was suffocating and was rapidly approaching the threshold of her second panic attack in less than an hour. 

“No,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “No, no, no, no.” 

This couldn’t be happening. The last thing she needed to be tied up with was something connected to royalty. Royalty led to media, which led to attention, which led to Lotho.

Her stomach clenched and she shoved a fist in her mouth as what little food she’d eaten that day threatened to come back up. At the rate she was going it’d only be a matter of time before her ulcers came back. 

She opened her eyes and felt a flash of anger as she looked at the man… Filian where he lay next to her. What had he been thinking running around by himself? Where had his security been? Was it just assumed that, because he was a werewolf, he could take care of himself?

Clearly, that had been a mistake. 

She picked up her phone, nearly dropping it in the process as her hand was shaking so badly. What was she supposed to do? Call the palace operator and tell them she had one of their princes unconscious in her bed and they might want to send someone to collect him?

She had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well. Especially with him being unconscious and all. Suddenly unable to stay seated, she jumped to her feet and started pacing at the foot of the bed. Every few seconds, she’d cast a look at the prince with the faint hope he’d just...go away, or she’d wake up and find out it had all been a bad dream.

Had they noticed he was gone yet? Had they started looking for him? She hadn’t been planning to end up with a freaking prince in her custody so no doubt her fingerprints or DNA or whatever was all over the place. 

She went to the window and moved the curtain aside just an inch, convinced she’d see the street filled with flashing lights, helicopters, and news vans. 

News vans. She didn’t need news vans. Missing princes and manhunts and the news. All of it spelled attention and that was the exact opposite of what she needed.  

Now completely overwhelmed, she pressed her fists against the wall next to the window and leaned forward until her forehead rested against the plaster. 

The image of the trap from the woods drifted back into her mind. What were the odds, she wondered, that a silver trap just so happened to randomly be out in the woods, in a park, where a werewolf could conveniently run into it?

Bilba let out a low groan, already knowing the answer. The odds were slim, which meant Filian had probably been targeted, which meant there was someone else she had to worry about out there. She thought back to the creep, but dismissed it. If he’d been hunting for a werewolf he wouldn’t have been so easily scared off when an injured one showed up. 

She sagged against the wall and slid down it, turning as she did so she ended up seated with her back to it. 

“Why’d you have to be a prince?”

Filian’s only response was a groan and pained shift on her bed. Bilba sighed, and then struggled to her feet. Feeling marginally calmer, probably because she’d moved past panic into emotional shutdown, she forced herself to get up and go to the kitchen for a glass of water before retrieving ibuprofen from her bathroom cabinet. As she pulled the bottle off the shelf, she paused as reality set in. 

She would have to move. 

Again. 

There was no way she could stay. Even if she could manage to, somehow, handle all this without publicity just the fact that she’d come into contact with a member of the royal family at all was dangerous. It was a level of attention she couldn’t afford to have. 

She returned to the bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed, studying him. There was no way he was her soulmate, no way she had a werewolf prince somehow fated to be her other half. She’d always pictured her soulmate as some nice, normal guy who worked as a teacher perhaps, or maybe had a job in a bakery. Not...this. 

She sighed, and went to set the pills and glass down next to the bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress and grabbed Filian’s arm. “Come on, I need you to sit up.” When he didn’t respond, she yanked harder on his arm, which did absolutely nothing. “Filian! I need you to get up.”

Still nothing. Bilba scowled. The image of the other prince ran through her mind and her brow furrowed in thought. Kilian. His name was Kilian, but Filian had been calling him by what appeared to be a nickname, Kili. So, if that were the case, and Kilian was Kili then did that mean Filian might have a nickname of his own? If so, would it be...

“Fili.” She put a hand gently on his chest, and shook him lightly. “Fili, I need you to sit up for me, all right?”

His eyes opened, bleary and unfocused, but he responded when she pulled on his arm and struggled into a half seated, half slumped position against the headboard. 

“Okay.” Bilba retrieved the glass and medication, and then paused. “Can you even take ibuprofen? I know cats can’t.”

“Not a cat,” Fili grumbled. He reached for the bottle. Bilba took it as a good sign, shook out several tablets and gave them to him, along with the glass of water. She had to support it, and a lot still wound up on him and in the bed, but he managed to get enough down to swallow the pills. Hopefully, they would help with the pain and also the inflammation and fever. 

She took the glass back and helped him as best she could to lie down again. “I’m going to go try to find Kili. I need you to stay here while I’m gone, all right?”

His eyes were barely open, but they focused on her as she spoke, and he made a motion that might have been a head nod before drifting off again so Bilba took it as a good sign. Even so, she found a piece of paper and wrote “Gone to look for Kili, STAY HERE,” in big, block letters on it. She taped it to the door and then closed it so that if he got up the first thing he’d see would be the note. 

It was only after she’d done it that she remembered she was still wearing her nightshirt, and her hair was in such a state that one would think she’d stuck a fork in a light socket. 

So much for her dramatic exit. 

Bilba opened the door again and went to get changed. Once she’d gotten dressed, she managed to yank a comb through her hair and plaited it back into a thick braid. All the while, she did her best to not think about the whole throwing her arms around a complete stranger and crying all over him. 

And to think she’d considered the possibility he was her soulmate. As if someone like her would have a werewolf prince for a soulmate. No, it made far more sense that it had been the creep from the parking lot after all. 

Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she sagged forward on the counter to bury her face in her arms. She was just so tired, all time, and with every passing day it only got worse. No one could be scared like she was all the time, could run like she did all the time. It had been five years, how much longer could she go on?

Even as she thought it, she knew the answer. Now that her soulmark had activated, it would only be until Lotho found her again. Found her, and the creep from the parking lot she supposed. After that?

She was afraid to find out. 

A low groan from the bedroom drew her attention. Bilba sighed and forced herself upright. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, dark bags and gaunt features, and grimaced. It was probably for the best that he wasn’t her soulmate. No doubt he’d take one good look at her and run the other way. 

She left the room for the second time, grabbed her keys and purse and then went to stand in front of her closed front door. 

“Okay,” she told herself. “You can do this.”

She let out a breath in a futile attempt to calm her nerves and then, before she could think about it too much, she set her alarm and hurried out the front door. 

She broke out in a cold sweat the second she was outside, with the dark closing in tight around her, but she forced her trembling fingers to lock the door and then nearly ran to her car. 

Once inside, she went through the same, terrifying, routine of checking the backseat she’d done at the bakery before turning her car on and flipping on the headlights. Acid churned in the back of her throat and her grip on the steering wheel was so tight she could hear the bones in her fingers creaking in protest. 

“He needs your help,” she chanted, as every fiber in her screamed to run back inside and hide inside the false security of her bedroom until the sun rose. “He needs your help. You have to help him.”

She put the car in reverse and carefully backed down the driveway and out onto the street. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she had a vague idea of where to start. A place rumored to host the royals from time to time. A place where she might at least be able to get an idea of who she could trust or not trust. It was a far fetched plan with about a thousand different holes in it but, for the moment, it was all she had. 

With a false determination she really wished she could believe in, she turned her wheel and angled her car toward the only place outside the palace she might be able to track down help for the injured prince in her bedroom. 

Arkenstone.

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298015/chapters/66695635

#fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #writing #horror #Halloween #scary #Bad Romance #romance #stalking #happy ending #Hobbit AU #female bilbo baggins #fili #fembilbo/fili #fantasy #supernatural #writing challenge #werewolves #vampires #soulmarks

[apollo-writes-random-shit]

“It’s a full moon tonight. That’s when all the weirdos are out.”

This was actually really fun and like Race, I’m fucking stupid when it comes to telling stories so it was fun to think of some.

Thanks for sending this request in!

“It’s a full moon tonight. That’s when all the weirdos are out.”

"Race...Ya out all the time."

Race huffed, ignoring the littles' giggles as he reached over to slap Albert over the back of the head. "Dumbass, let me talk! I wanna tell a story!"

Jack rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face as he sketched the scene from the corner of the room. "These kids better be able ta sleep tanight Higgins. I don't wanna be up all night cause you and your stories."

Race huffed, rolling his eyes. There went his plans for talking about a murderer...Time to rethink.

"Alright. Cause Jackie's a spoilsport, I'll change the story." He chuckled, shaking his head as his younger siblings started to complain. "Sorry kids. Gotta listen to the old man. He makes the rules here."

"I'se only a few years older than you!" Faking insult, Jack balled up his ratty blanket and threw it at Race, chuckling as it hit him in the face. "Get on with the story ya nerd!"

"Jesus fine!" Shaking his head, Race grinned, wrapping the blanket around himself. "Right. So the full moon is a magical time but also a dangerous time. While the moon gives us light on the streets, he also brings out mysterious dangers. It is said that if you stand in his light, your mind will be twisted." He grinned, happy to have everyone's eyes on him. "You'll start to feel new urges and will find yaself wanting to do things ya've never heard of before."

"Like what?"

"Well, my dear Kai, I'm glad you asked. Have you ever heard of the sirens?"

"No?"

"Well, it's said that if you stand on the bridge with the full moon shining down, you'll hear ghostly singing which will draw you towards the water. You'll find yourself with one of two urges. Some feel the need to jump into the water to investigate while others feel the urge to sing back. Singing back will help you'se keep ya freedom while following the siren's urges will spell your doom. Some say they're always out at night and will still attack, but will only sing on the full moon. Never go near the water at night, especially on the full moon. Sometimes, they'll be heard singing outside your window, in hopes of getting you to go to the water."

"Wait...You've gone across the bridge at night before! Have you heard them?"

"Why yes, I've had. I'se sang right back at them as I covered my ears 'nd ran. As ya know, 'm probably the fastest runner in 'Hattan so I was able to outrun their voices."

"So humble ain't ya?"

"When have ya beaten me in a race Finch?"

"..."

"Uh-huh. That's what I thought. Anyway. The sirens ain't the only ones that come out in the night. There are the masks as well."

Crutchie fought back a laugh, knowing exactly where this was going. After all, he and Jack were the ones who told Racetrack the story in the first place when the boy was caught attempting to sneak out on a full moon. The story had been passed down from the leader just before Jack who had used it to stop Jack himself from sneaking out

"Masks?"

Race's grin widened at the child's question, planning to add his own twists into the story had been told oh so many years ago. "The masks are creatures that come out on the full moon. They appear to be human yet their faces are not. Their faces are inhuman or if they're strong enough to have a human face, it'll be frozen in one expression no matter what and it'll look fake. It'll appear like it's stuck in time."

"What do they do t-to you?"

"Why if they see you walking the streets, they'll take you away. If the masks getcha, you'll never be seen again until the full moon when you're there ta take people away! What do ya think happened to Dax from Queens? He turned into one of them. Everyone just says that he aged out but I'se has seen him. I looked out the window one-night 'nd BAM! He was right there on the street, starin' up at me wit' a weird ass smile on his face. It was raining 'nd he didn't even blink, just kept on staring. Next second, he was gone. The masks 'ad gotten him."

"You'se just tryin' ta tell us scary stories and not about weirdos!"

"I dunno kid. The masks and sirens are pretty weird 'nd creepy." Race shook his head before letting out a soft insulted shout as Blink shoved him to the side.

"Alright, kids. I'se'll tell ya about the weirdos I've seen at night time."

"How can ya see at night with one eye?"

"Same as I see durin' the day Mike. Anyway, I'se got a few stories." He chuckled, shaking his head. During the time Race was speaking, he had sorted through his own nightly experiences, sorting the stories from each other so he didn't slip up and tell a not so 'kid-friendly' story. He didn't feel like a repeat of last time. As friendly and cheerful he appeared, Crutchie was more than happy to hit someone with his crutch if he felt like someone deserved it. Last time Blink had told a story, the bruise had lasted over a week. Though he had to admit he made a mistake when he decided to tell the kids he had snuck into a bar and managed to steal from a drunk which ended up causing a few of the more daring littles to attempt to go near the bars. Luckily, Jack had expected this and had the more mature kids keep an eye out for anyone wandering towards the bars.

"Once at night on a full moon, I'se was coming home. I had been out a bit late ya know? It was still early enough that 'the masks' hadn't come out yet." The only reason he had mentioned Race's stupid story was that he knew the taller boy would interrupt him in an attempt to draw the attention back onto himself. "And before ya ask, this isn't the same night as the bar incident. Anyway, I was walking home yeah? I think I was only a block away from lodging actually when some really hairy lookin' fella comes stumbling outta the alley. I'm talkin' real hairy. Like hair on 'is hands, neck 'nd stuff like that. He's mumbling ta himself and stuff then he sees me. He starts coming towards me 'nd I think Great here we'se go. but instead o' fightin' me, he throws his arms round me, tells me that God blesses me and starts singin' those song thingys."

"Hymns."

"Right that. Thanks, Jojo. So this guy is singin' and holding onto me and all of a sudden just lets me go and walks off. I watch him go and see that he does the same thing to a lamp post. He didn't even smell like liquor which just added ta the confusion. Pretty sure he kissed the lamp post as well before he just sat down, singin' ta himself." He shook his head, grinning at the laughter that followed his story. Even Jojo was laughing which meant that the risk he had taken hadn't insulted the boy who had grown up, raised by nuns.

Over the next few hours, he and the other older kids kept up their storytelling, entertaining the younger ones with tales of strange things they had seen over their short lives, even allowing Race to tell more of his stupid stories.

Finally deciding to be serious with the topic, Race grinned, cutting off Jack's cowboy story. "We'se heard that story a lot Cowboy 'nd I've seen some pretty weird shit up in Brooklyn if you'se wanted to hear."

Considering he was the only non-Brooklyn newsie who could sell there let alone stay the night meant he instantly drew their interest. After all, whenever the newsies came up with a 'strange' story, they made sure to mention Brooklyn.

"So. One night, the fellas and I were in their kitchen when this knock sounds on the door. Laughin', they all send me to go answer it and what do I get? Some stranger tossin' water in ma face! Apparently, once a week, this lady walks up ta different houses 'nd throws water at people fa no reason. Like who does that? So, I'm standing there, soaked ta the bone wit' all the fellas laughing at me so what do I do fa revenge? I go 'nd grab a bowl maself and toss it all over them 'fore rushing off, runnin all the way back here."

"You've thrown water at me!"

"Albie my dear friend...You kept fucking snoring. What was meant to do?" Grinning, he quickly dodged the punch his best friend through at him. "Anyway. There was this other guy who walked around sayin' he was a god. People were naturally avoidin' him considering he was screamin' at the top o' his lungs, dancing buck naked in the streets. The bulls came ta pick him up and he threw something in their faces, I think it was flour and takes off running, screamin' about lemons and shit." He shook his head, remembering the conversation he had with Spot after that confusing day.

Before Race could keep speaking, Jack clapped his hands. "Alright, guys. It's time fa bed. Moon's getting high and we'se got work tomorrow."

"But I wanna hear more stories!"

"Too bad. Ya gotta go to bed Lijah." Grinning, he watched as the older boys started ushering the younger kids upstairs to get ready for bed, happy to see that there was minimal complaining...Right now at least. He knew some kids would take more time to settle down but he was prepared for that.

He stood up, following the group so he could catch up to Race. "The masks 'nd sirens? Really?"

"What? They'se good stories and you know that! Besides, correct me if I’m wrong but if I remember correctly, you and Crutchie were the ones who told me about the masks, I'm just passing on the knowledge."

Without a comeback, Jack just laughed and shook his head, watching the blond run up the stairs. He had to give it to Race, the kid had a massive imagination and if he filed away the stories to draw later, well...No one needed to know.

#newsies #racetrack higgins #race higgins #kid blink #albert dasilva #jack kelly #finch (newsies) #crutchie #apollo's shitty writing #friend request! #prettyinlimegreenboots

[diddlesanddoodles]

Dumpling ch. 24

The last chapter was a little thinner than I normal post and I left it on a cliffhanger. So I’m releasing the next chapter early. Enjoy the pity chapter, peeps! 

Word spread fast through the castle that the leader of the Hill Tribes, a man named Gregis, had died. Of what, no one seemed to know. However, all through the early morning as breakfast was cooked and readied for the top table, footman and servants were abuzz about the human leader’s demise, murmurs of unease and conspiracy ran amok.

“I wonder who will replace him,” said one footman as he waited for Saen to fill the serving tray with sweetmeats, whole fruits that had been boiled and stirred for hours in honey and sugar and taken on a translucent appearance.

“Who’s to say,” Yale replied from beside him as he sliced portions of cold meat of the left over boar from the previous night’s meal. “I don’t think we have much influence in the Hill Tribe’s politics. King kind of lets them figure out their own affairs.”

“What if the new leader hates Vhasshalans and they start raiding us?”

Yale scowled at the footman, looking as though he were seriously contemplating smashing him over the head with his own serving tray. “Raid us? What would they do that fer? We feed ‘em ya right git!”

The footman had the decency to look ashamed. “Well, yes. But y’know how greedy they are...”

Yale bristled and he glowered. “If ya don’t shut yer gob, I’m gonna smash all yer teeth out and ya can eat soup fer the rest ‘a ya fucking life.”

“Sorry!” The footman left with his tray in a hurry after that.  

“Fucking prat,” Saen muttered after him. “And he runs like a lass.”

For her part, Nenani spent the morning gathering up rocks that were scattered around the camp. Some were smoothed and polished river stones and other were chunks of layered earth that sparkled when the light hit them just right. Anything that looked pretty, she added to her pile. The freedom to wander about as she wished was a somewhat novel thing. Normally the kitchens were so busy in the morning, she had to stay put so as not to get in the way or get stepped on by an unobservant footman. The yard where they had set up the temporary kitchen was wide with plenty of space. To one side, the rampart loomed high above them, stone facing that stretched high into the sky, while the other was the wooden backsides of the guards’ barracks and armory. Just a bit further along was the stables and smithy.  

She had managed to accumulate a respectable collection by the time Farris finally returned. Even from a distance it was clear he was in a particularly fowl mood. Tucked under one arm was a small chest. Yale was the first to greet him.

“Mornin’ boss,” he said tentatively. “Everythin’ go alright?”

“No,” Farris snorted humorlessly, dropping the chest heavily onto a table and making the serving bowls clink and chatter. He stared into it for a moment, scowling and growling. “I suppose ya heard th’news by now.”

“About Gregis? Yeah,” Yale replied. “We heard the horns last night.” Yale watched Farris dig through the chest and when no further elaborations came, he pressed him. “What happened? Farris?”

“Gregis tried to break up a fight between two other humans,” Farris replied and then paused to pull out a small bottle, eyeing the contents inside and giving it a little shake to loosen the material within. He replaced it back into the chest and continued his rummaging. “One of the lil’ fucks stabbed ‘im. Pierced his heart and he bled out right in front of the whole damn tribe.”

There were muted gasps and curses from everyone. Bart grunted and turned to spit, “What a fuckin’ waste.”

Nenani watched from her place next to the hut, noting their reactions. She knew the name Gregis from overhearing Keral and King Warren the time she got lost in the halls and just before getting nabbed by the Ranger Captain. Gregis’s wife had made something for the King. Some sort of talisman to help protect his unborn child. Nenani wondered what kind of man he had been and was aware that she would likely have known him if Farris had not chosen to keep her as his ward.

“Poor man,” Saen said, looking grim. “He was married, wasn’t he?”

Yale nodded. “Aye. Has a young son too, I think.”

“They’ll be holdin’ the funeral tonight,” Farris continued, closing the chest at last with a little more force than was necessary and seemed deeply dissatisfied with the whole thing. “Then they’ll hang the lil’ bastard who did it a few days from now.”

“Any idea what the fight was over?” Avery asked.

“Somethin’ stupid would be my guess,” Farris answered, tucking the small chest under one arm. “Doesn’t matter though. He’s dead. There’s talk of Warrick bein’ nominated to replace him.”

“Warrick?” Bart snorted incredulously. “Ain’t he that skinny twat ya brought back from Dornbey a few summers passed?”

Farris laughed darkly. “That skinny twat grew up, Bart. Got big. Fer as big as a human can get.”

“Will ya be going?” Bart asked, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. “To the funeral.”

“Thought about it,” Farris replied, something hard moving across his face, but in a flash it was gone. “Not certain I much care fer watchin’ a dead human roast. Saw plenty ‘a that durin’ the war and I don’t care to see it ever again.”

“It ain’t the same,” Bart replied, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder and squeezing. “Not at all.”

“Aye,” Farris sighed, looking world wary and tired. Nenani could see the dark circles under his eyes and she wondered if he had slept at all. It did not escape Bart’s eye either and the burly giant, patted Farris’s shoulder.

“Ye look like hell, Farris,” Bart said quietly. “Go take a bit ‘a rest. The boy’s and I know what needs t’be done.”

“No time,” Farris replied shaking his head and making his way towards the larger tent. “Maevis is needin’ some things.”

Farris ducked inside to place the chest on a small table near the front before turning back, a fresh apron in his hands. He was tying it around his waist and moving towards the prep tables.

“Well,” Bart said to him “He ain’t needin’ ‘em right this moment is he?”

The kitchen master stopped and considered it. “Nah. He ain’t.”

The butcher huffed and waved Farris off. “Go on then. We can handle this fine. Maevis has the patience of a saint and won’t care if he has to wait till after lunch fer his order.”

Farris paused, considering and finally he sighed and nodded. “Fine. Come and wake me if it gets too late.”

Bart’s answer came in an affirmative grunt before he returned to his work. Farris warily entered the hut, pulling the apron off. Nenani watched him and there was a nagging feeling in her chest and almost as though it were a compulsory thing, she stood and went to the hut’s open door and peeked in. Farris was sitting on the edge of his cot, wiping one hand down his face and she could more clearly see the toll taken on her guardian. His shoulders slumped as though bowing under the weight of something very heavy and though he was often seen scowling at nothing in particular at any given moment, his frown looked...very sad. Suddenly, green eyes turned to face her and Nenani bristled.

“What is it, Dumplin’?” Farris asked, his voice hoarse. She eased herself into the hut and slowly approached, wringing her hands. She stopped at his boots and looked up. Farris was peering down at her and his green eyes seemed duller. “Hm?”

“Are...” she started, licking her lips. “Are you okay?”

Farris seemed confused and a little taken aback by the question. “...I’ll live.”

She frowned. “That’s not what I asked...”

Farris quirked an eyebrow at her. But when she just continued to frown at him, crossing her arms and waiting for her answer, the forlorn lines of his face broke and he smiled. “I’m fine, lass. Just tired is all. Lot of things happenin’ all at the same time. Beats ya down after a while.” He snorted and wiped something from one eye. “Startin’ t’ pitty the nail...”

She studied his face before asking, “Did you know him? Gregis?”

He nodded. “Aye, I did. Wouldn’t ‘ave called him a ‘friend’, but we worked together gettin’ humans outta Dornbey and settled into the Hill Tribes. Knew ‘im fer a long time. A very long time...”

“Is that where they sell humans?” She asked. “At the market? Where Kent came from? And Sawyer?”

He winced and shook his head. “It ain’t something ya should be hearin’ about, lass,” Farris said, waving his hand. “Not fer a lil’un’s ears.”

She wanted to protest, to say that she wasn’t stupid. She had heard enough of Dornbey market to understand a little of what kinds of nefarious dealings were to be had there. And she also understood Farris and Yale’s trips there were not only purely to acquire produce for the kitchens. They were looking for Vhasshalans violating the King’s creed against eating humans. But seeing the stern warning in his eyes, Nenani dropped it.

She put a hand on the leather of his boot. “But...you’re okay?”

Warmth returned to his eyes and he nodded, a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips. He reached down and ran his finger tips across her head. “Aye.”

The fingers at head her dropped down and he cupped her back with his palm, steering her to face the door and gave her a gentle nudge. “Go on and play, Nenani. Weather’s turnin’ and it won’t be much time at all till the snows taller than ye are and ye’ll be stuck inside fer months. Best enjoy it while it lasts.”

She turned back as the hand retreated and in a sudden, in-the-moment decision, she ran back to grab onto his fingers, squeezing as tightly as she could manage. She released her grip to turn and run out the hut’s door, calling back over her shoulder, “Sleep well!”

Farris was left slack jawed as he watching her run off, a warm feeling spreading through his tired and aching body. As he laid down onto his cot, covering his eyes with his folded apron, he smiled and for the first time in a long while, slept soundly without the faces of the dead to accompany his dreams.

……………………………………………………..

She almost did not recognize him in his fancy clothes. Instead of the well worn slacks and tunic, Jae wore a formal doublet made of green silk with delicate gold embroidery and proper black breeches. His boots had even been polished. For the first time since knowing him, looked to Nenani like a proper King’s ward. Prince like almost. His hair was even combed.

“Not the most comfortable thing to wear,” Jae told her, lifting his arm up and spinning to show off the embroidered trim along the side. “And it makes climbing harder and Lolly will skin me if I rip these pants. But I promised Rosanna I would try to look more the part. She’s still kind of…not all that happy with me, but I guess we’re making progress. Apparently she had some weird idea that Warren wanted me to be in line for the throne and be in competition with her baby. So once we cleared that up, she was a lot more open to me being around. She just doesn’t really talk to me, which is fine. I don’t have much to say to her anyway. But I’m trying to show her I can actually behave and be a good King’s ward. A lot of standing around while someone drones on for an hours about protocols and junk. Ibronians are obsessed with court etiquette. They have rules for everything! Mostly I only need to wear this getup at official functions or when I’m working.”

They had taken up a corner of the camp away from the cook fires and busy staff to quietly chat and catch up. Nenani sat wrapped in her quilt, her collection of river stones in her lap.   

“Working?” she asked. “What are you working on?”

“Oh right!” Jae said, eyes bright. “You wouldn’t have heard. Warren’s made me Assistant Steward.”

“What’s that?” she asked, confused.

“Y’know, I asked him the same thing when he told me,” the boy replied with a smirk. “Basically, I trail along with Donal when he makes his rounds, keeping notes mostly, and delivering messages between the staff. The Steward and the Matron are the head servants, making sure everything runs smoothly between all the different departments.”

“Oh. So who’s the Matron?”

Jae looked at her oddly. “...well, Lolly is of course.”

“She is?” Nenani asked, feeling thrown for a loop.

Jae laughed. “You didn’t know?”

She shook her head. “No one calls her Matron...”

“No, that is true,” he replied conceding the point. “I don’t think she cares for the title to be honest. It does kind of invoke the image of someone much older.”

“Have you apologized to her?” Nenani asked. Jae coughed into his fist, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

“Yeah. Yeah I did,” he replied. “She came to see me late after...all that stuff happened.”

“So, does that mean everything’s okay now?” Nenani asked. “You can sleep in your own bed now?”

Jae rolled his eyes, but nodded. He stepped up onto a large boulder sticking up from the ground and eased himself into crouch. “Yup. Lolly even had it cleaned for me.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Yeah, but now I can’t find anything!” he laughed. Careful of his stiff clothing, Jae slowly sank down to sit onto the rock, letting his feet dangle just above the grass, appearing carefree and...content. More than she had ever seen.

“So what about you?” he asked. “Heard that Wyvern messed you up pretty good. These guys were beside themselves. I could heard Farris trying to break down the infirmary doors from Donal’s office.”

“Scariest moment of my life,” she replied. “Even worse than when I thought they were gonna eat me. By far!”

“We could hear it from the great hall. All the BANG and CRASH and WOOSH!,” Jae said, animated as he mimicked the sounds of a wyvern attack. “Everyone just started freaking out and started running around all useless. Thames even fainted!”

“It was so big!” Nenani said, flinging her arms out as far as they would go. “Like, a hundred feet long! It made everyone look small and Quinn said that Dragons are even bigger!”

“I’ve never seen one,” Jae replied with a shudder. “And hope it stays that way. Maevis told me once that Dragons weren’t only dangerous because of their size. They’re smart too. Like proper people smart.”

“I don’t think I wanna meet a dragon either,” Nenani made a face and Jae laughed.

“Oh!” he suddenly said, perking up. “That reminds me. I wanted to asked you about something Yale asked me...”

“Hm?”

“What’s this thing about dead people in the tunnels?”

Her heart gave an odd hiccup and for a moment, she could only stare at Jae. “Oh...yeah. He wasn’t suppose to say anything.”

“So, does that mean it’s true?” Jae asked, leaning down towards her, his eyes alight with curiosity. “You found...bones in there? Where? Why didn’t you anything before?”

She struggled to answer him, but to her relief, Jae did not press her on the fact that she had never told him. Instead, he leap to his feet. “We’re gonna have to find it again.”

“What?” Nenani balked. “No! It was scary!”

“Listen to me Nenani,” he said with a determined expression. “I have lived here for years and thought I knew those tunnels forwards and backwards. Now you’re saying you found a whole new tunnel? I have to see it for myself! Can you remember where it was? Any clue at all?”

“Well,” she began reluctantly. “When I ran away from it I ended up in a hallway and the King was there...it’s where Keral nabbed me...”

“What kind of tapestries did you see? Describe them.”

“Um...there was one with a tree and a horse and some ladies dressed in blue and..”

“I know where that one is!” Jae replied and then looked confused, tapping a finger to lip pursed lips. “But there’s not a door to the tunnels there...”

Nenani shrugged. She half expected him to feel defeated, but instead he looked as though this mystery was rejuvenating him and she was suddenly struck with the notion that he and Keral looked very much alike when they were excited.

“Alright!” He said in finality and turning back to Nenani. “I’m busty this afternoon and most of tomorrow with Donal, but after that I’m free. We’ll go searching for it then.”

“I...I don’t really...”

“Oh, come on! You stared a wyvern down and almost got chomped for real, but you’re too scared to go look for some old bones?”

“T-they’re not the same...”

“Well,” he said with a shrug. “You have two days to get over it. And then we go hunting.”

He turned away and began to walk away. Gaping at the back of Jae’s head, Nenani rose to her feet and yelled after him. “I didn’t agree to any of that!”

“Sorry,” Jae called back, now fully sprinting away. “Can’t hear ya!”

She stomped her feet indignantly. “JAE!”

…………………………………………………

It was well passed the luncheon hour when Farris emerged from the hut and the first thing he did was walk up to Bart and punch him squarely in the back of his right shoulder. “Ya fucker, ye was suppose to wake me if it got late.”

Wincing against the pain, Bart smirked. He rolled his shoulder. “Ah, sorry ‘bout that, Farris. Th’ time must’ve gotten away from me.”

Clearly not believing a word of what Bart had said, Farris just rolled his eyes and tightened his apron while muttering under his breath. Regardless of his protests, he did look very much improved by his rest, Nenani was quick to note. He carried himself in his the familiar way and took no pause before barking out orders and getting updates from everyone on where they were in their tasks.

“The iron one will do for now,” he was telling Gjerk. “We don’t need much ‘a the sauce fer the roast and I don’t want to be wastin’ anythin’ fer no good reason.”

Everyone went to their tasks, performing like a well oiled mechanism despite their heavy impairment with the kitchens still being repaired. Farris swept his gaze across the camp, noting where everyone was and mentally knocking off items from his list. He spotted Nenani under one of the prep tables set up near the cook fire, stacking rocks.  

Nenani glanced up when she heard Farris approach, his boots making light crunching sounds. He crouched down to peer under the table at her, smirking quizzically. “Playin’ with rocks, lass?”

“No,” she replied and held a particular river stone. It was a blushing pink color with a cream stripe down the center. “Just the pretty ones.”

He shook his head. “Well, no one could accuse ya of not bein’ easily amused.”

She stuck her tongue at him.

“I got a job fer ya, lil’ un,” he said as he reached out to lift her up. Once she was secured in the crook of his arm, he then reach back down to grab up her quilt. Her collection tumbled out into the grass.

“Hey!” she protested.

“They’re rocks, lass. I think they’ll be fine.”

He took her into the large tent that was set up beside the hut where he had created a makeshift spice pantry. There were no shelves, but chests and boxes filled with the bottles and jars and crocks that normally stocked the shelves of his pantry in the kitchen. Nenani watched from the work table as Farris dug through one of the boxes. He was muttering something under his breath as he searched until at last he stood upright, something clasped in his hand. “Ah! There it is...”

He took a stool from the other side of the table and pulled it closer, easing into it and lowering his hand close to her, the items still clasped in his fist “Thought this was lost fer good. Surprised me when it showed up again when we cleaned everythin’ out.”

He opened his hand and nestled in his palm was a mortar and pestle made of dark stone. It was small and clearly meant for human use and for a moment, Nenani was very confused. Looking up at the spice master, she tilted her head in bafflement.

“It was Kent’s,” Farris explained. “He’d been gettin’ frustrated about bein’ useless, so I threatened ‘im that if he didn’t quit ‘is gripin’ I’d go ahead and give ‘im something to keep ‘im busy. Little bastard called my bluff. So I had this made fer ‘im.”

Farris plucked the tiny object from his palm and set it in front of Nenani. “Taught ‘im how to mix tinctures for Yaesha and that was ‘is job.”

She grabbed the stone pestle in her hands and lifted. It was heavy and large with her hands barely fitting around it. The inside of the mortar’s bowl and the end of the pestle were both rough surfaced while everything else was a smooth and polished back.

“And now, it’s yours.”

Nenani looked up at Farris, gaping. “Wha...really?”

He nodded. “Yale’s been teachin’ ya well on the all the herbs and yer picking it up quick. I’ll started ye on simple vinegar based recipes and we’ll work from there.”

Looking to the mortar, she ran her hands along the bowl, feeling the cold stone. The gravity of what this meant was not lost on her and inexplicably, she found her eyes were watering. Blinking them away, she craned her neck to look back at Farris who was watching her.

“Thank you,” she said. “I promise I’ll work really hard to learn.”

Farris smiled, chuckling as he stood up. “And don’t be thinkin’ I’m gonna let ya be slackin’ off just ‘cause ye a lil’un.”

“I am not a slacker,” she told him and Farris laughed loudly.

“Ya certainly won’t be when I’m done with ye.”

#DUMPLING #G/t story #G/T FLUFF #hurt/comfort #Look at all these trauma babies #Farris #Nenani #Jae #Bart

[thewarriorandtheking]

Small Talk

This little scene has been sitting in my WIP file for a month. I am still not happy with the title, but the scene came out so cute I have been dying to post it. 

The Warrior and The King MasterList

Warning: Pure fluff

*********************************************

There were no parties so grand as those held in the great Dwarf city of Moria. The Great Hall in the palace lit by a hundred lamps, the golden light reflecting off the mithril-plated ceiling onto the noble guests in all their finery. At one end of the hall couples took their places for the next dance as the band struck up a tune, at the other end drinking games were held in earnest at the long bars. Between there were groups deep in conversation, on soft couches before blazing hearths pretty girls were wooed and deals were made. Tonight was the social event of the season, everyone who was anyone was there, Dwarves from the noble families, Lords and Ladies from among the Men who lived in Moria, all in their finest regalia. Thorin Oakenshield and his wife Kaylea Wolf, the former King and Queen of Erebor, were the guests of honor. It had been many years since they had visited Thorin’s son Durin, who was King of the ancient city, he and his wife had recently welcomed their second child – a boy who would inherit his father’s kingdom. A new grandchild always meant Thorin would visit, and Durin’s wife never missed a chance to throw a party.

Thorin had been talking new mining techniques with some of the Dwarven foreman and had quite lost track of time when his companion paused mid-sentence and stared at something past his shoulder. Thorin did not have to look to know it was his wife coming up behind him. Kaylea Wolf was a vision tonight in a Dorsai-style dress, close-fitted and one-shouldered, a sweep of dark blue silk that brushed the floor. On her breast was the necklace of fire opals he had only just finished. There were no jewels in Middle Earth to compare with the blazing stones from Caladan, Thorin had only been waiting for mithril to complete the settings.

Thorin smiled as his wife came up beside him, he slid his arm around her waist and took her aside, guiding her to an unoccupied couch in a quiet corner near one of the hearths.

“Are you enjoying yourself, my love?” Thorin asked, kissing her beneath her ear.

“Yes, my king,” Kaylea snuggled against him. “I believe your necklace is a hit.”

Thorin chuckled, running his fingers over the stones. They were larger than he usually used, over the years he had gradually been training his wife to wear proper jewelry. “I do not think everyone is looking only at the necklace.” His hand found the slit in her dress and traveled up the inside of her thigh.

Kaylea smiled at him. “You are a naughty boy.”

Thorin grinned wickedly back. “Says the naughty girl not wearing any underwear.”

Kaylea pulled him to her and kissed him. Her man had such skill in his hands. A few moments later a servant came by with a tray of drinks. Thorin sat back and took two, handing one to his wife.

“If you only knew what I have planned for later,” Thorin gave her a smoldering look. “You are going to be sore for a week.”

“Promises, promises,” Kaylea replied, running her fingers over the bulge in his trousers. She drew back as a richly-dressed Dwarf approached.

“Excuse me, your majesties,” he said, bowing low. “I hope I am not intruding?”

“Not at all,” Thorin shifted in his seat and motioned to the chair on his left. “You have met my wife, Kaylea Wolf? This is Roald Greyhammer, Durin’s brother in law.”

“I have not yet had the pleasure,” Roald replied, bowing low again. He had only recently come to Moria and never seen Kaylea Wolf except from afar, he had to remind himself not to stare. She was striking enough in her plain black riding clothes, in that dress, dripping with jewels, she looked like a warrior goddess straight out of the old tales. “At your service. I was wondering if I might ask you a few questions?”

“Ask away,” Thorin replied. He could see Roald was nervous, looking down, turning his glass in his hands. He wondered what was on his mind that made him so embarrassed. He sipped at his drink, waiting for him to speak.

“Was it difficult, marrying a Human woman?” Roald asked at last.

“Difficult?” Thorin shrugged, looking sideways at his wife. “In what way? She certainly made it difficult by making me wait so long.”

Roald looked surprised, but quickly shook his head. “I mean, was it hard with the differences in your cultures?”

“Those were certainly very great,” Thorin said. He and Kaylea exchanged quick glances. “But I make all the decisions. I am the the King, so I am always right.” Thorin winced as Kaylea jabbed him in the ribs. “Truthfully, any successful relationship must be built on compromise. If you love each other, you can make it work.”  

Roald nodded slowly. “But did you not worry about what the other families would think?”

Thorin frowned. “I have never given two copper pennies for what the other families think of me. I would have married Kaylea Wolf the night I met her.”

“But you did not marry her then?” Roald was taken aback. He had never imagined Thorin would risk that kind of scandal, especially as a newly crowned King.  

“She would not have me,” Thorin laughed. “She told me great Dwarf Kings must marry Dwarf Princesses and have children of pure blood.”

“The responsibilities of kings,” Kaylea chimed in.

Thorn rolled his eyes. “If I had a mithril ingot for every time we had that conversation, my treasury would be the equal of Moria’s!” Kaylea laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

Roald blinked at Thorin, as if seeing him for the first time. He remembered that Kaylea Wolf had been Thorin’s Woman since before he was married, but he always assumed that was Thorin’s choice. His way of showing the other families that the King Under the Mountain was powerful enough to have not just one woman, but two. Watching the two of them, Kaylea curled against Thorin, his arm over her shoulders, the love they radiated for each other was so intense Roald found them difficult to look at, as if just this simple act of sitting on a couch was too intimate to be witnessed by strangers. He did not know what astonished him more, that Thorin would have thrown away his reputation for her, or that Kaylea would have ever refused him. There were many stories told about Thorin and his warrior woman, some of them quite fantastic. Roald longed to hear their whole story, but he reminded himself to stay focused. He took a deep breath and asked the question he most wanted answered. “Of course, it is not only our cultures that differ. There are the…ah, physical differences.”

“There are not many physical differences between Dwarves and Men,” Kaylea smiled, running her hand up the inside of Thorin’s thigh.

Thorin smiled at her, his hand stroking her shoulder. “You do not notice the height difference when you are laying down,” he chuckled. “Of course, Human women are nearly hairless. I like it personally, others may think differently.” He leaned over to kiss Kaylea’s neck.

“We are embarrassing the poor man, husband,” Kaylea said, looking over at Roald, who had turned several shades of pink under his beard and was trying not to look at them. She sat back, her eyes narrowing. “If I may ask, why the questions, my lord? One might think there is a Human girl who has caught your eye.”

Roald smiled, a bit nervously. “And you would be right. A girl from Gondor, in fact.”

“A girl from Gondor? Tell us about her.”

Roald took a deep breath. “She is from a very old family. Her father and brothers are stonemasons, a family trade for generations. She and her father were here last year, not trading, just to tour the city. I met her one day in the First Hall, she was sitting on the floor sketching the columns in her book. I offered to show her around and after that we became inseparable.” Roald sighed. “I wanted to ask her to marry me before she left, but I worried it would not work out because of our families. I wish you had been here then to ask for advice.”

Thorin chuckled. “I am hardly the first Dwarf to marry a Human.”

“You are the only one I know well enough to ask,” Roald replied. “And you are certainly the most famous one who has done it.”

Thorin shrugged. He leaned back, stretching out his legs in front of him. He gave Roald a sly smile. “If you and this girl were really inseparable, you should need no advice from me about physical differences.”

Roald flushed bright scarlet. “I do not know anything about that!” He stammered. “She is a respectable girl!”

He saw Kaylea smile, and lean to whisper something in Thorin’s ear. He smiled at her and whispered something back. Roald felt the heat rise to his face, feeling again that he should not be watching them. Kaylea’s hand was still far up on the inside of Thorin’s thigh, his arm pulling her close. However. Kaylea noticed his embarrassment and moved back, sitting straight beside her husband.  

“There is something you should think about, and consider seriously,” Kaylea said. “If you marry this girl, you will outlive her. The span of years granted to Men is only half that of Dwarves. I am not saying you should not marry her because of this, only that you must fully accept it.”

Roald nodded, his face grim. “My sister said much the same to me,” he said. “I admit I had not considered it.” He looked at Kaylea. “But I will still love her, even as she grows old.”

“Of course,” Kaylea nodded. “But you must go into it prepared. To know that you will one day bury her. And it will be as hard on her as it is on you.”

Roald felt a sort of chill run up his spine. Bury her, it had such a ring of finality to it, it gave him pause. The way Kaylea spoke, it sounded like she had experience. Everyone talked as if she was of the race of Men, but she obviously was not. She was as ageless as an Elf, and there had been much speculation about how she had healed Thorin after the Battle of the Five Armies. He had lived more than twice as long as any Dwarf before him and now looked even younger than his own son. There were some who wondered if his warrior woman was also a powerful wizard.

“Have you asked the King for his opinion?” Thorin asked.

Roald nodded. “His response was much like yours. He asked why I had not married her already.” He grinned sheepishly. “He asked me to invite her back so he could meet her.”

“King Durin has done much to strengthen the alliance of Men and Dwarves in his kingdom,” Kaylea said. “For a member of the royal family to wed a Human would be a clear signal that he is serious.”

“Yes, of course,” Roald looked startled. “I had not thought of that.” Is talking to Kaylea Wolf always like this? He felt as if she was already ten steps ahead in the conversation.

Thorin seemed to read his thoughts. “If you are wondering, she is always like this. Took me quite a while to get to her speed.”

“I must thank, your majesties,” Roald said, moving to get up. “You have given me much to think about.”

Thorin was smiling at him. “You look as though you have many more questions you would like to ask.”

“I admit that I do,” Roald replied. “But I do not wish to take up any more of your time.”

Thorin shrugged. “The night is still young.”

Roald sat back in his chair. “After our conversation, find myself wishing I knew your whole story. How did you finally convince Kaylea Wolf to marry you? Did her family accept you at once? Was it very hard to learn their customs? And is there some kind of magic involved in why the two of you do not age? You have both lived far longer than any others of your races, longer by far.” He found the questions spilling out of him. “I would love to know if all the tales they tell about you two are true. Did you really fight Ringwraiths and visit Lothlorien? And defeat some great evil in the Blue Mountains?”

Thorin and Kaylea looked at each other and laughed. Thorin took a deep breath. “I would not take no for an answer. Her family took to me at once, though they were shocked to hear she was married, and learning their customs was a very long process. The secret to our long lives is not magic, though some might call it that,” he said, matter-of-factly. “As for the stories, they are all true. Though almost nothing happened the way it is told. I suppose we should set the record straight one of these days.”

“You should write them all down, husband,” Kaylea teased. “Like that hobbit you once knew. Put it in a book.”

“The quill is not my best weapon,” Thorin said. “I challenge you to write it.”

“Ah, but I would write the true version,” Kaylea replied. “The one where I make all the decisions.”

Thorin slapped her leg playfully. “Obviously we remember things differently!”

Now Roald laughed. “I will take my leave now, before this becomes a fistfight.” He rose and bowed low. “Thank you, your majesties. I will look forward to reading that book!”

Thorin kissed his wife, relishing the taste of her. After a long moment he pulled back, running his fingers over her necklace again. “I rather like the idea of a book. To read Bilbo’s version, one might think the retaking of Erebor was all about him.”

“He was writing for his audience, there is no harm in that,” Kaylea said. “Yours could be the Dwarven version.”

“You mean the true account.”

“There are three sides to every story, my king,” Kaylea said playfully. “Yours, mine and the cold hard truth.”

“Mmmm…my version of this party ends with us leaving early. How about yours, my love?”

Kaylea stood up, still holding his hand. “Mine ends the same way. Imagine that!”  

@thophil2941btw @emrfangirl​ @thequeenoferebor​

Read the complete adventures of The Warrior and The King on AO3 & FanFiction, author is akdogdriver. Now also available on Wattpad. 

#thorin fanfic #fanfiction #thorin x oc #the hobbit #tolkien fanfic #true love #middle earth #thorin oakenshield x oc #fantasy adventure #fluff

[ruthoakenshield]

Thorin and the Gem Carver (part 2)

Thorin and the Gem Carver (Part 1)

Jade ran as fast as she could for the nearest hiding place in the shadows. “Why would a king want to talk with me?” she kept asking herself. “And why would he send such a big, burly dwarf to get me?” she pondered.

She stood stock still in the shadows and saw him come out and look around. Jade slunk further into the shadows. She watched as the big, bald, burly dwarf motioned to the other two to split up and search the area. She stayed put as she watched them split up and head in opposite directions.

She stayed where she was. Afraid of being seen. She was in an alleyway across and slightly to the left of the tavern. She leaned against the wall of the building and tried to calm her racing heart.

She kept an eye on the door of the tavern and gasped when she saw the other two dwarves come out and look around. The one with dark hair had a worried expression. The other one with the white hair looked across the road and spotted a glint of something. He  pretended not to notice and then convinced the other dwarf to go the opposite direction the other three had gone.

He waited until the dark haired dwarf was gone and then casually walked to the other side of the street. He stopped near the alleyway’s entrance and leaned against the building. Jade watched as he pulled out a pipe and proceeded to pack it with pipeweed and light it.

“You can come out of hiding, lass. I won’t hurt you.” he quietly says. You stay where you are and don’t move. “Why does the king wish to see me? I am nothing to him. What is it he wants from me?” you say in almost a whisper.

Balin chuckles. “The king received word from King Theoden, asking him to keep you safe. He told my King how your presence blessed his kingdom and brightened the lives of his court and how his niece and nephew think of you as their adopted sister. He sent this sapphire to my King to show him your skill at carving gems and asked my King to consider allowing you into his gemcarving guild as a master gemcarver.” Balin explains as he holds the sapphire into the light.

“You did a marvelous job carving Rohan’s horses into it my dear. There are few left in Erebor who can match this detail and skill. Especially on such a small stone.” Balin praised you.

“Rohan had few gems. Theoden gave it to me and asked me to carve something on it for his niece for her birthday last year.” you said. “I hope it is returned to her soon.” you tell him.

“I’ll tell you what, lass, why don’t you come with me and lets sit and talk. Tell me why you are so skittish around us.” he suggests.

“I will show you if you come into the shadow. For i do not wish others to see it.” you tell him.

He looks around and doesn’t see Thorin or the rest of their group so he carefully slides into the alleyway and slowly approaches you. You step further into the alley and then stop. Balin comes a little further into the alley but stops when he sees you begin to retreat. He holds up his hands and says, “Lass, I am unarmed. I will not hurt you.”

You look at him for a moment then reach up and unhook the hair clip and let your hood down. His eyes get wide when he sees your white hair. You drop your head and reach up to unhook the clasp. You turn so your back is to him and drop the cloak. You hear his intake of breath and turn to face him. He is standing there staring at you with a very big smile.

You drop your gaze and bend to pick up your cloak but he quickly steps up to you and says, “Allow me.” as he reaches out and gently touches your arm.

You freeze and allow him to pick up you cloak. He looks up at you and then asks, “My dear, what is it that you wished to show me that you are so skittish about?” You look at him blinking for a moment then look around. There is a spot off to your left where the sunlight is hitting the ground. you walk over to it and pull your hair around so it hangs off your shoulders. You take a deep breath and step into the light.

Balin walks over to you and once he sees you step into the light, he understands why you are so embarassed. “Lass, how did your lovely white hair get the lovely blue color?” he asks as he walks up to you. “Turn and let me see the back again.” he says. You pull your hair so it hangs back over your shoulder and you slowly turn again. He chuckles. “It looks so beautiful, like a lovely waterfall. Why are you ashamed of it?” he asks as he takes your arm and turns you to face him.

You lower your gaze and stare at the ground. “The woman who did it did so out of envy and spite. As she held my braid into the vat of dye she chanted something and I felt magic entering me. I do not know what it was she did to me nor why she did it. The color will not wash out no matter what I try, and i feel shame at my beautiful white hair being defaced with the color.

My aunt wished to cut it, but Lady Galadrial told me Mahal gave me this white hair at birth for a reason. She said she could not tell me why, but she told me I am never to cut my hair short. I may trim off the split ends, but never cut it short.” you explain to dwalin.

He chuckles. “Ahh, lass, I understand now. Do not be ashamed of the color in it. It makes you unique and one of a kind, as does your white hair for your age. Mine, turned white with age, but yours is lovely. Think of yourself as a rare gem. The right people will see you as the beauty that you are and appreciate and love it, the others who don’t are not worth your time and they will pass you by. Those, like the woman who colored your hair, are most likely jealous of you and your uniqueness and do not know how to handle those feelings. That is probably why she attacked you and tried to shame you like this.” he said as he held you hands.

“When my uncle said we were moving to Erebor, I was afraid. I did not know how the dwarves would see me and treat me. I feel like a freak of nature, something to stare at like a caged beast.” you tell him as a few tears trickle down your cheek. “He has other plans for me besides being a gemcarver, and I do not wish for what he has planned, at least not in the way he intends to go about doing so.”

Balin reaches up and dries your tears. “What is your name, sweetheart?” he asks you. “Jade.” you tell him. “Will you walk with me back to Erebor?” he asks. You look at him and he chuckles. “Aaahh, I see you have lovely green eyes to match your name.” he grins. “Do not worry, lass, you and your aunt and uncle will be treated well in Erebor. The king will make sure of it. He would not wish to insult or ruin the alliance between us and Rohan.” he tells you.

“Come, walk with this old dwarf back to the Mountain and we can talk, and you can tell me of yourself.” he says, giving you a kind smile. He holds out your cloak and you let him put it over your shoulders, as you keep your head bowed. He hooks the clasp at your throat when you hear someone clearing their throat.

You both look up to see Kili standing there mouth agape. You quickly drop your gaze. “Jade? Is that you?” he asks. You look up and he begins to walk closer, excited to see you. You take a few steps back. He stops and looks hurt and confused. “Jade, what’s the matter? You know I won’t hurt you.” he says quietly.

“I’m sorry, I - I - i just can’t. I’m sorry master, dwarf. I must go find my family.” and you turn and take off running down the alley and into the darkness.

Balin sighs, “I don’t understand why she is so skittish. What is it she fears?”

Kili shakes his head. “She can not still be traumatized by that orc attack.” He says quietly.

Balin turns, “What do you mean, Laddie?” Kili tells him about the caravan they had been ushering back to the Blue Mountains years ago and how you and your father had joined them the day before on your way back from Rivendell. He explained how the orcs attacked and your father died defending you as Fili and himself protected you from the orcs in front of you. and how they brought you home and you cried the whole way there. He told Balin that they stayed with you for two days until your uncle and aunt came and took you back to Rohan.

Balin and Kili stepped back into the sunshine on the street as they talked and walked back to the main gate to try to find Thorin and Dwalin and Fili.

“Ahhh, so THAT’s how she ended up in Rohan.” Balin says, stroking his beard. “I wondered what happened to her parents.”

“I don’t know what happened to her mother, “ Kili says quietly. “we never saw her and assumed she was also dead.” he explained.

“I still don’t see why she is so skittish to meet Thorin and come back to the mountain with us.” Balin says. “We need to talk with her Aunt and Uncle once they arrive in Erebor.” he tells Kili.

As they round the corner, Balin spots Dwalin, Thorin and Fili. They walk over and join them. “Did you find her?” Thorin asks.

“Aye, we found her. I was able to talk to her briefly. The attack she suffered in Rohan was to her hair, Thorin. She has beautiful white hair...whiter than mine... and it reaches down to the ground. But a vindictive woman took her braid and pulled it into a vat of blue dye and she chanted some kind of magic over the lass. Now the dye will not wash out. It has colored the bottom of her hair deep blue. Almost a Durin Blue color which fades as it goes up to her shoulders from there up, her hair is a beautiful white. White as the moonlight.” Balin tells them.

“Aye, it’s true!” Kili says excitedly. “Fi, remember the lass and her father that joined the caravan back to the Blue Mountains? The one that got attacked by the orcs and killed several of the merchants many years ago?” Fili pushes himself off the wall suddenly excited. “Yeah, I remember it. Wasn’t there a lass with white hair, the one we flirted with the entire afternoon?” he asked. “Yeah! Her father died trying to protect her from the back when an orc attacked. Remember, she cried the whole way back to the Blue Mountains!” Kili reminded Fili. “Oh, Yeah, She rode with you on the pony the whole way back.” Fili said.

Thorin and Dwalin looked surprised. “So why didn’t you bring her with you, Kili? If you knew her and she knew you, surely she would feel safe with you if she let you comfort her on the trip back to the Blue Mountains?” Thorin asked.

“I don’t know uncle. She seemed to remember me, but like Balin and Dwalin said, she has become skittish. Something has scared her and she doesn’t seem to trust anyone. She let Balin see her hair, though and let him put her cloak back around her shoulders, so maybe she trusts him?” Kili suggested as they looked at Balin.

He just chuckled and replied, “Must be the hair.” They all grinned. “So where did she go, then?” Dwalin said as he rubbed his chin. “She said something about finding her family. I had asked her to walk with me back to Erebor so we could talk more, which she seemed willing to do, but when Kili arrived, she bolted and said she needed to find her Uncle and Aunt.” Balin explained.

“So we find her relatives, we find her.” Dwalin says. “If they are heading for Erebor, they will use the main gate.” Fili stated. They looked at each other and ran for the gates.

It was early enough in the day, that the markets were still going on. Thorin paced in front of the gate and then decided. “Let’s head back to Erebor. Wait till they enter the gate and we close the gates for the night. Then we find them, invite them to dinner, and then maybe we can get some answers.” he suggests. Balin nods. “I think that would be wise. Fewer chances of her running.” he said.

They headed back to Erebor. “Balin, I want you and the boys to stay on the ramparts. Watch for her and her family. Greet them warmly when they arrive and see they are shown to our guest rooms and tell them they are invited to dine with me for supper tonight.” Thorin tells him. Balin nodded.

#skittish #jade #gemcarver #balin the dwarf #kili durin #thorin oakenshield #king thorin #dwalin #runaway #arranged marriage #dyed hair #shame #flashback

[centuryofdean]

When Lightning Strikes - Chapter 14

Author Disclaimer:: The Hobbit, Middle Earth and its characters are not mine. I take no credit. The story line and even some dialogue–also not mine. Instead I claim my Original Character Laurel and the adjustments to the story line.

Summary:: From when Laurel Took was small she dreamed of a man. Every time she dreamed of him, he could not see or hear her. Over time they are able to communicate–but he’s been dreaming about her too. Finally after years of anticipation Laurel takes the leap and kisses him. Only for her to wake up and dread the real world. Then lightning strikes and she finds herself in a familiar place, with a familiar face.

Rated:: M for Mature. Please do not read this story unless you are 18+ At this point in the story there isn’t much, but later on the M rating will come into effect.

Warnings:: Language, Violence and Scenes of Sexual Nature. Smutty Chapter Here!

Pairing:: Kili x OC (Laurel)

Kili

The sunlight found me in the morning. After I relieved myself to the image of Laurel quivering beneath me by my hand, I was able to go back and pull her to my body and sleep soundly. The rest of the company was already up, including Laurel. I stumbled through the house and came to find everyone seated along a long wooden table eating fruit and bread once more. I spied the red-haired maiden at the end, so I settled myself next to her and picked the grape out of her fingers with my lips.

She turned to me startled, I offered her a cheeky smile.

The blush that took over her face was something to laugh at.

Then she refused to look at me. A hairy man taller than Gandalf approached me and poured milk into a cup and set it before me. The look in his eyes was animalistic. "This is Beorn," Laurel whispered softly, "our gracious host."

"Thorin Oakenshield," his deep voice boomed across the large kitchen, "you need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?"

"Before the fall of Durin's Day, yes," Thorin replied curtly.

"There is still time," the skin-changer replied. "Your company should rest. If what Gandalf said is true, then you all have been running for a very long time. Trying to fight orcs will not be easy if one is not well rested.

"You may stay another night, and in the morn I will grant you the use of my ponies to get you to Mirkwood, but they cannot go any farther than that."

Once everyone was well fed, we ventured out into the enclosed lawn. Laurel had still yet to speak to me properly, but spare me looks here and there with red cheeks. Perhaps she was embarrassed of the dream she was having of me the night before. Thinking about my response had me feeling a tad embarrassed myself. I had touched her intimately without her permission, and that was very foolish of me--though I could not help myself.

With my name on her lips and her hips shifting in such an erotic way, I had to do something to ease the ache I known she was facing.

From my seat beneath a hearty willow tree, I watched Laurel approach Thorin and Fili. She motioned to her sword and then their own. My brother nodded ecstatically and then pointed to myself in the distance. Pine eyes sought out my own before red painted her cheeks once more. The action brought a chuckle from the depths of my chest.

The day wore on, and I watched as my kin taught Laurel how to handle a sword and fight close combat. Even with her small stature and lighter weight, they showed her how to use her attackers' weight against himself.

The sword she was given was of elvish steel and light, so it soared through the air as she swung it at Thorin. Both he and Fili shouted instructions at her, occasionally stopping and physically showing her moves and attacks. Sweat piled off of each of them earnestly. I twiddled with my arrows, sharpening the tips of them as I watched from afar. Eventually Thorin clapped Laurel on the back, offering her a smile before he and Fili started to make their way to me. She stayed in the meadow and practiced her footwork and swinging her sword, sometimes tossing it and opting for her dagger.

"You have chosen well nephew," Thorin chuckled, "she learns well and can fight with her spirit. If I had not known better I would have thought she was part dwarf."

Bilbo also joined us in the waning sunlight, "Boern showed us a spring to bathe in. The rest of the company is already on the way there."

"Are you coming brother," Fili asked.

"I will go later," I whispered watching uncle walk away, "when there is no one else around."

A deep laugh came from him, "I thought you had your fill last night."

I threw a sharp look his way before glancing to see if anyone heard, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm surprised no one else woke at the sounds you were having her make," he spoke softly with mirth in his eyes. "Did you not leave to go do the same for yourself after?"

With an instant I jumped, rage filling me at my foolishness that someone else had heard Laurel. I should have just woken her like I planned, instead I let greed fill me. "It is not what you think," I muttered, "she was not even awake but merely dreaming."

"Dreaming," his eyes widened in surprise, "you were moving and hovering above her. You kicked me in your haste!"

"Do not speak a word to anyone," I hissed, "she will not even speak to me."

"You touched her while she slept," Fili hissed outraged.

My head hit the bark of the willow we were under, repeatedly of my own doing. "Yes," I muttered disgusted with myself, "you did not hear everything she was saying while she dreamed. It was hard to not do more than that. I am ashamed of myself."

Fili whispered somewhat harshly, "It is a trying time brother, I understand. In your position, I do not know what I would have done myself. Just do not do anything foolish like that again, especially without her consent."

Once he left, I dropped back to the ground to watch Laurel more. Overtime she became tired and sat on the ground, soon after laying and kicking her feet in the air. It reminded me of the times that she would do that when we dreamed. Those times were simple and carefree without monsters and formalities.

Eventually the company came back through the woods, laughing and almost skipping. It was a long time before anyone bathed. I made quick work of going back into the house and grabbing a drying cloth of my own and a change of clothes. Fili offered me a bar of soap and directions to the spring down the path.

The moon hung boldly in the night sky, along with all the stars and colors that Laurel adored so much. It was a curved spring, I took to the far most side and hissed as the cooler water touched my bare skin. After a while it felt nice, easing the ache in my muscles. With the soap I washed the grime and sweat from my skin, my feet, and finally my hair. The feel of fingers working my scalp and nails digging the dirt up felt almost as good as me pleasuring myself.

At that thought my hand idly traveled down below the water toward my pelvis.

"Thank you Bilbo."

I froze at the sound of Laurel's voice. What was she doing here? I started to move to the shoreline, ready to grab my dry cloth and clothing, but stopped, afraid she would catch me. There was no reason for her to be mad at me for being here, seeing as I was here first.

Due to the curve of the spring, I was able to remain behind some foliage as I watched Bilbo walk off into the night. Even having a perimeter of stone and wood, a large forest surrounding the spring. Laurel started to remove her tunic.

At this I started to turn, ready to dress and flee back to the house.

Then I saw the dark red gash that lined her side.

Rage filled me at the thought of one of my kin actually striking her with a sword. I did not see either of them hit her with their blades. Fili had told me not to do something foolish, and watching Laurel undress from the shadows seemed very foolish.

Under her tunic she wore that odd small piece of fabric around her bosom that I had seen a handful of times. The undergarments that covered her bottom were also small and thin.

As she started to push them off I looked away and waited. After looking back I saw she was in the water from the waist down, her arms covering her chest as she shivered and emerged herself more. Finally she took a deep breath and dove under only to rise up moments later chattering her teeth. I was hard just seeing her partially bare.

Feeling like a perverse fool in the dark, I started to make my way towards her.

"Laurel," I murmured softly.

She jumped, covering herself as best she could and sinking into the water some more. "Kili," she hissed, eyes raking over my nude form. "What are you doing? I'm bathing!"

A chuckle left myself as I attempted to get closer, she moved backwards some. "I was here bathing well before you showed up," I offered my hand, almost close enough to touch her. In the depths of the water, one could not see me from just below my chest and downward. Laurel was crouching so that all I could see was her head.

"Will you please leave so I can wash myself," she hissed, face turning red once more. My eyes never left her's, watching as they traveled from my wet hair down to my bare chest.

I finally grasped her cheek, taking another step closer, "Why have you been avoiding me?"

As the words left my mouth, she turned away from me so that all I could see was the back of her head.

"I haven't been avoiding you," her voice came out softly, "I just…have been busy."

"Avoiding me," I laughed as my hands found her shoulders, thumbs working into her blades. "Your face turns red when you look at me. What has happened? You can tell me. I never shall judge you nor will I be angry."

After a moment she turned to face me, looking down into the water instead. She rose slowly to her full height, revealing he tops of her breasts that wanted to float into my view. My loins grew heated once more. "I know you won't be mad," she laughed softly, pushing her palms to her heated face. "It's just embarrassing that it happened, and even more so to say it out loud."

That was it after all. The dream. The palms of my hands met her shoulders, rubbing soothingly against them, waiting for her to say the words.

"Last night I dreamt," she whispered, eyed trying to hold my own and failing. "I dreamt…that we were having sex."

With her words I pulled her in closer to embrace her. The feeling of her bare breasts pushed against my skin was pleasurable, and I hissed when I felt my need press against her stomach. There is no doubt that she felt it.

"I know," I murmured into her hair, "and I have something to confess to you, and I hope you are not angry with me."

Her questioning gaze was terrifying, though since she was honest with me, I had to be honest with her.

"You woke me because of it," I laughed, "I thought you were having a horrible dream. Then you moaned my name and I could not bare wake you. I was under your spell. You called out my name, wanting release. I…touched you over your trousers. It was very wrong of me, and inappropriate. I apologize, I will never be able to apologize enough."

A new flush took her skin as her eyes widened at my words. Instead of slapping me as I suspected she would, she just placed her hand over her beating heart and looked into the water.

"I will not allow you to fight me any longer," I murmured capturing her once more, arms holding her waist to me. "Please let me put a courting braid in your hair."

She backed away, shaking her head, "Kili I can't. My father died when I was young. My mother loved him so much she wasted away. She isn't my mother anymore, she is a shell, just a body without a soul. I can't let that happen to me."

"You would not like to have a love with me? There is a chance that we will survive this journey."

"Then we can try to be together then."

"And what if one of us perishes?"

"Then I won't be as hurt."

A scoff left me harshly, "Will not be as hurt? I would be more broken-hearted if you perished and I never got to love with you. I know you feel for me in your heart somewhere. I see it in your eyes and feel it in your breath when your lips caress mine—when you breathe my name."

To show her my words I yanked her to me and pressed my lips against hers while my fingers worked into her wet locks. As I suspected, she kissed me back in hunger, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. She opened her mouth, snaking her tongue to meet and dance with my own. With a gasp I pulled her face away watching as she attempted to pull closer again.

"Nothing would change," I murmured, "the only thing is that I would wake up knowing that I can freely tell you how I feel, I would not have to dance around my words and watch you from afar.

"I can hold and kiss you whenever I would like, and you could do the same. There is nothing more I want, than having you. If either of us are to perish, let the other know that it was not one sided or in vain."

"What about Thorin? If we get back Erebor, he still won't let me be with you."

"Thorin…is getting used to the idea. He told me that he was wrong about you, you have the spirit of a dwarf."

Pulling away, she furrowed her brows a long while before turning and offering me her hair, "Alright. Afterwards we'll finish our bath and go back to the house."

"Not quite yet," I growled yanking her around so that I could hold her to me, "it is improper for a courting couple to be left without an escort."

With ease I pulled her up and urged her to wrap her thick legs around my waist. The heat of her quim squished against my stomach, her bottom tickling my member from above. Our lips met in a hurried kiss, her hands tangling in my hair as mine traveled to hold onto her arse. Soon my lips left her own to trail down the column of her neck; she still tasted of sweet apples. I wondered if all of her tasted of sweet apple.

My fingers worked the meaty flesh of her arse while I started to walk back to where my things were laid out. As the water started to reveal more of her skin, she shivered. "Where are we going," her voice was breathless against my ear.

"To lay on land so I can properly please you," I growled back nipping at her lobe. A loud moan left her lips, urging me to move faster. Once we were out of the water, I settled her onto my dry cloth and gazed at her naked beauty.

Laurel's skin was not pale but olive, sheen with water than dripped from the spring. Her handful of breasts were dusted with pert peaks, following down a thick with muscle abdomen into thicker thighs. One side harbored a dark red gash.

"What happened here," I asked breathlessly as my hand trailed down the cut.

"Orc," she hissed.

"You practiced with swords all day, moving and irritating it. That was foolish," I muttered. My eyes traveled further.

At the appendix of her thighs was a light coating of ginger hair. A deep groan left me as I pressed my lips against her chest, trailing off to the side so that I could lick at her dark nipple. She gasped, hips jutting forward. One of my hands found the other breast while her fingers tugged at my hair.

I rose so that I could kneel between her legs. The hand that was caressing her breast left to hold her stomach, the other coaxing her leg to fall to the side so that I could touch her quim. Slowly she eased them open, allowing me to see her nether lips glisten in the light of the moon. The twitch of my manhood at the sight had me hiss. As I watched her face, she took a deep breath. One finger touched her bare flesh—she gasped—then I slid my finger up to lightly skim the nub of nerves I knew to be hiding, the action easier due to her great wetness.

A loud moan ripped through her, causing me to use my lips to silence her. Last thing I needed was the company hearing her and coming to investigate—only to find us naked in the throes of passion.

Her tightness hugged around my finger, causing me to gasp at the warm slick heat that I wanted to be emerged in completely. Her walls were clenched and trying to push out the intrusion. "Shh little doe," I murmured kissing her softly, "relax. This is all I am doing tonight. I swear to it."

When her body fell back to the ground, I started to move in and out, with the same ease I would if it were me instead of my finger. It was slow, but the beauty of her face as she found pleasure was something I would never forget. Her juices flowed over my fingers easily, covering them as I added a second finger. Another moan sounded through the night, mixed in with my own groan. Her hips started to trust in time with my movements, her breath coming shorter. With my thumb I touched the bundled gem above her opening again, stroking it in time as I pounded my hand into her.

Finally she clenched all her walls and screamed the loudest, moaning my name.

She rode my fingers until her body slowed, breathing erratically. Her eyes opened dazed and half lidded as she gazed upon me. A quick glance of my hand had me twitching again, she was bare and open before me, my fingers were covered in her essence. When I gazed on her again, I brought my hand to my mouth and slowly sucked on a finger.

It was purely sweet like apples, with a husky feminine taste and smell, one that screamed her name. A pleased grunt left me while she gasped, her hand trailing down between her legs. At the sight I reached down and grasped myself, a hiss leaving me at the feel of her juices on my bare member. The pleasure from touching myself with her warm wet heat was extraordinary.

With my own eyes half lidded I pleasured myself to the image of Laurel naked before me. I watched as she ran her fingers into her own quim, gathering her wetness. Stunningly enough, she grasped me with her slick hand and started to stroke. Another moan tumbled from my lips as she pushed me to my back and started to squeeze and pull at my flesh. This felt even better than when I was doing it. The pressure started to build, almost painful because I was so full. My hand sought out her breast, pulling and tweaking her peak as she pleasured me.

"Tighter," I hissed, fisting both hands at my sides.

She followed my instructions, gripping me tighter and moving her hand more furiously.

"Thank you Kili," she whispered, pressing her lips to my hip bone. "that was better than when I do it."

At her words I found release, unfortunately it spurted all over her chest. The sight so glorious, causing me to spasm harder and spurt more. She gasped softly as she worked my flesh until my thrusts stopped.

"I am sorry," I muttered, pulling her face down to mine for a kiss, "I did not mean to spend myself all over you."

After another eager kiss she rose, offering me her hand. "It's okay," she whispered when we were both standing, "let's hurry and wash so we can get back to the house."

Previous Chapter << Chapter 13: By the Valar, If Only Dreams Were True

Next Chapter >> Chapter 15: Mirror Reflections Within Sickness

#the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic #kili x reader #kili x oc #the habbit fanficiton #kili durin #kili x you #kili fanfiction #kili fanfic #kili #when lightning strikes

[saelwen]

The Last Dragon

Daenys Targaryen x Thranduil

Crossover: Game of Thrones and LOTR/Hobbit

Chapter8

Masterlist

Summary:After Daenerys death, her daughter Daenys, flew away with Drogon. Feeling lost with out her mother beside her, but what will happen when Daenys find a portal that will lead her to a certain world, where dwell elves, dwarves, humans and other races.

Warnings: death, burning corpse

Words:2k

The cold wind was hitting my face, drying my tears a little. How could I be so stupid! Mother always taught me not let man's get in my head, taught me to be strong woman. And never be manhandled...Valar Morghulis...that’s what mother would say.

Me and Drogon been flying for hours, if not a day. I would be lying if I say that I know where am I, looking down I only saw trees and around us there is no sight of civilization. A sigh fell from my lips, I know we should stop and let Drogon rest but I'm afraid that any threat could go upon us when we were resting.

My thoughts were interrupted by a roar that Drogon let go, manifesting his tiredness “I know, my sweet friend...Let’s rest for a bit.” I look down and saw a small clearing, I order him to land there for a bit, so he could rest. Climbing off from his back, I pet his head “Stay here and rest. I will go see if there is any river nearby.” with that, I walk into the dense forest, looking for some water to drink.

After a while, I found a small river, with clear water. I sigh in relief and sat on my knees by the river bank. I begin drinking some water and when I was satisfied, I begin washing my hands and face. As I was cleaning my dry tears, I notice my reflection on the clear water. I look weak and tired, there was dark circles under my violet eyes, my brown skin was paler and my long silver hair was a mess from flying. Closing my eyes, my thoughts begin to drift back to the emotionless, cold face of Thranduil. The evil smirk that it formed on his face when he told me that I was a mere pretty thing to pass time...just to be use like a doll and throw away when he was finished playing it. Thorin was right. I shouldn’t trust on elves...

I look to the sky, seeing dark clouds begin forming, ready to let go a heavy rain. Standing up, I begin walking in the direction where I came from. Suddenly, a sound of heavy feet's hitting the ground grab my attention. I look at the direction where the noise came from and start follow it, passing through some bushes and trees. I stop where the ground ended, that lead me to a huge cliff, I look down and a small gasp escape from my mouth. Down below, a huge number of orcs marched, full of armor and all sorts of weapons, ready to attack. I look at the direction that they were marching for and my eyes widened. They are going to Erebor! Turning back, I run to where Drogon was, climbing to his back “Come on, Drogon! Those stubborn dwarfs and snobby elves need our help!” with that he jumps into the air, flapping his wings, flying us towards Erebor. I hope that I will arrive at time.

                                                   ~~~~~~~~~~

(Thranduil P.O.V)

How did I get in this mess? Not only that stubborn dwarf king didn’t accept our deal, now his cousin came with his army. I let out a sigh and order my elk to move in front of my army, I yell the order to shoot, letting go a rain of arrows on the dwarf's army but two huge propellers like, clean all the arrows on the air and land on my army. Damn! Those dwarfs have more defense mechanisms than us, I order the first front the ready they shield as I see the dwarfs cavalry coming closer. I stay back, seeing my army killing those filthy dwarfs. I look to Bard, who was trying to calm down his people, “Stay put! Let my army finish them.” I say firmly, he only nods and continue calming his people along with Mithrandir and the halfling.  

Suddenly the ground begins shaking, I look to Mithrandir “They have arrived!” he said with a firm voice. Oh no! There was a huge explosion as the giant's worms jump from the ground, letting the orc army come out. Dain begins shouting for his army to ready and form a wall with they shields.  

My army stay still, ready for my orders. Mithrandir runs to me “King Thranduil! This is madness! You need to do something!” he yells to me. My heart beat begins beat faster, as everything around me goes slow motion. What have I done? I led my people into a battle that it didn’t concern us! Everything I do, only bring death and pain.  

Suddenly, a loud roar grabbed my attention and of everyone even the orcs. Looking up, I couldn’t see almost nothing because of the sun light hitting my eyes but I saw a black figure, flying down to us. I heard Mithrandir and the halfling gasp and look to them with a confused look “I knew it that she wouldn’t turn her back to us!” the halfling said with excitement in his voice, Mithrandir nods and smiled proudly. Looking up again to the black figure, now closer I notice that was Daenys, with her beast. My eyes widened as her dragon blow the most part of the orc army, setting fire to the first row.

The people of Laketown begin cheering for they savior, Bard looks to me “I will led my people to Dale and try to take the rest of the people out of here!” with that he was gone, leading his people away from the battle.  

The iron foot joins the battle, killing every orc that pass in front of them. Mithrandir grab his sword “Thranduil! You must help them!” he says as he starts running to the battle with the halfling close behind. Grabbing tightly the handler of my sword, “Attack!” I yell to my army, ordering my elk to move forward.  

(Daenys P.O.V)

Most of the first row of the orc’s army was burning, I turn Drogon and ready for another attack. I notice that the dwarf army have joined the battle as well the elves, I led Drogon more into the orc’s army for not kill any dwarf or elf.  

I look down and saw some cave trolls running towards the Dale town, ready to attack the people there. Grabbing tightly on Drogon spikes “Dracarys!” I said firmly, making him burn every monster near the town. A smirk grew on my face as I hear the screams of agony of the orcs and the trolls, smelling they skin burning. Looking down, I notice that Thorin is still inside of his precious mountain. Why isn’t he here, fighting with his people? Suddenly a huge rock flew pass through us, I look down and saw a troll with a catapult on his back, aiming at us. Fuck! Drogon dodged the second rock and flew towards the troll, grabbing him by the head with his claws and threw him in air, as he rips off the troll head.  

After some time, setting fire to orcs and trolls, I order Drogon to land on the wall of Dale town. I order him to blow his fire forward, killing every orc that was running towards the town. I see Gandalf and Bilbo running to me “I’m glad that you’ve came!” Gandalf says with a smile, I return the smile “And when our lovely dwarf king while join the battle?” I ask sarcastically. Bilbo looks down a shamed by his friend actions, Gandalf sighs “I hope soon enough.” as he said those words, a huge gold bell blows the front entrance of Erebor. A small smile broke on my lips as I see the company running to battle, joining us. I look to Gandalf “You were right, Gandalf. As always.” a smirk form on his lips, Bilbo smiled but it disappeared as he notices Thorin, Dwalin, Fili and Kili climb the mountain on they goats “Where are they going?!” he asked worried. Gandalf frowns “To cut the snake head!” I look up and saw Azog on top of the mountain waiting for them.  

I could go and help them but the people here need me, and I know that Thorin could beat Azog on the fight. The sound hooves hitting the floor grabbed my attention, and saw on the bridge Thranduil mounting an elk running to us. A small smile form on my lips as I see that he was okay.  

As he was getting closer to the gate, the orcs shoot they arrows to the elk’s neck, killing it. Thranduil falls on the floor, I turn Drogon back and order him blow his fire on the orcs in front of Thranduil.  

The orcs scream in horror and start running away in fear of Drogon, yelling to retreat. Thranduil looks to me and give me a little nod in thanks, then begins killing every orc that was near him. A sigh fell from me as I notice how he looks to me with a cold look. Moving my gaze to the top of the hill, I saw the rest of the orc’s army arriving. I look to Gandalf “I will take care of the rest of the army! Protect the people here!” with that Drogon fly us into the sky.

As we were getting closer, I notice the eagles flying with us and on top of one of them was Beorn. A smirk appears on my face “I thought that a bear couldn’t fly!” I yell to him. Beorn looks to me and roll his eyes, jumping out of the eagle and transforming into his bear form, landing on the orc’s army.  

The eagles started diving down and killing the orcs, throwing them on the air and ripping of they heads. I order Drogon to also dive down and set fire to the orcs, blowing everything below us.  

                                          ~~~~Time-Skip~~~~

The battle was won. Sauron army has fallen but they took with them the last line of Durin. I was standing beside Bilbo, hearing Gandalf speech on Thorin, Fili and Kili funeral. The iron foot, people of Laketown and even the Mirkwood elves were there, mourning the loss of the King of Lonely Mountain. A tear falls from down my cheek, I didn’t end good with Thorin but I know that he was a good man and during the trip we had good moments together.  

I look down to Bilbo and saw that he was trying to clean his tears. I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze, he looks to me and I give him a sad smile. This will be hard for him...He have never witness death this close.  

After the funeral, I walk to Drogon and pet his warm scales, making him purring “Ready to go home, old friend?” I ask him with a soft voice. His eyes left mine and look behind me. Confused by this I look back to see what he was looking at, my eyes widened as I see Thranduil standing there looking to me. He took a step forward “I see that you’re leaving...” he says with an awkward voice, looking to Drogon suspicious. I nod and let out a sigh “Yes...I’m going back to Gandalf cabin...” I say quietly, we stay there for a while in silence, trying to avoid our gaze.  

After a while, he let out a long sigh “I’m sorry, Daenys....for everything I’ve said to you. I’m here to ask you if you want to stay in Mirkwood?...Your friend also can stay.” his voice came out weak, full of guilt. Do I want to return there? Knowing that I was just a mere thing to him! I close my eyes, I know that I want to stay there...”Okay...i will stay there for a while. Then I will return to Gandalf cabin.” a huge smile spread on Thranduil face, he was about hug me as I took a step back “As friends of course!...King Thranduil.” I say softly, with a firm look on my eyes. He looks down , trying to hide his disappointment “Of course, Lady Daenys!...Now should we go?” he ask a while offering me his hand, I nod and turn back, climbing Drogon back “I will meet you there, King Thranduil!” with that me and Drogon fly into the sky, leaving behind a sad elvenking.

I will be firm and don't let him enter in my heart ever again.

Hey Guys!!! New chapter here, this one was fun to right. Hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!!

XOXO

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