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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 2 years ago

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Guilt Part 1- Legolas Greenleaf x OC

Legolas Greenleaf x Alphine Devereaux

Description: An ambush by Uruk-hais leaves Merry, Pippin and Camelia kidnapped and Boromir mortally wounded.

Word Count: 1.8k

It was no secret to anyone that while Boromir had taken on a paternal/big brother role with the Hobbits, Alphine had taken on the maternal role. It was very endearing and sometimes amusing for everyone to watch Alphine play along with their antics or comfort them when they find themselves missing home.

When Boromir decided to teach the Hobbits how to wield a sword and defend themselves, the Witch was always nearby. Whether it was for moral support, damage control when one of them got hurt, or just joining in on messing with Boromir, she was there. Or, when Merry and Pippin were reminiscing about home and made themselves sad, Alphine was there with open arms so they could find solace.

Alphine had formed a strong bond with them, and she silently made a vow to herself that she would do her best to protect them no matter what happened. That’s why when they docked on the shore of the river Anduin she huddled them together to ensure their comfort and make sure she had an eye on them. After making sure they were okay, she took a seat on one of the many rocks large enough to sit on that were scattered on the shore. She then got distracted as Aragorn spoke.

“We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot…we approach Mordor from the North,” he instructed, eyes grazing over everyone in the Fellowship.

“Oh yes,” Gimli interjected gloomily. “Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks. And after that it gets even better… a festering, stinking marshland as far as the eye can see.” Alphine rolled her eyes.

“That is our road… I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf,” she responded for Aragorn. The Dwarf looked indignant at her words.

“Recover my…” he grumbled. The Witch’s eyes fell on Legolas, something she’d gotten into the habit of doing when making a jest at the Dwarf’s expense. She loved watching the Elf’s lips subtly quirk up and his eyes shine when she successfully got under Gimli’s skin. Instead of seeing that this time, she watched as Legolas faced Aragorn with urgency.

“We should leave now,” he muttered quietly. If Alphine wasn’t paying close attention she wouldn’t even have heard him.

“No. Orcs patrol the Eastern shore,” the Man responded in the same tone. “We must wait for the cover of darkness.”

“It’s not the Eastern shore that worries me,” he spoke, eyes glancing over the Parth Galen forest that stood just a few feet away from the shores. “A shadow and a threat has been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it.” His words worried her, and the knowing look that Aragorn offered in return didn’t help in the slightest.

Pippin, noticing her unease, laid his head on her lap. Immediately her hand went to his hair, beginning to play with it as she’d done many times before. The others learned that messing with someone’s hair often helped her calm down when she was anxious, so one of the Hobbits would always lay their head on her lap when she felt that way. She watched as Merry walked over and dumped a small pile of kindling at Gimli’s feet before looking around.

“Where’s Frodo?” His question caused a chain reaction in everyone. Within seconds everyone was up and looking around for the Ring Bearer. Everyone noticed the panicked look that flashed in Alphine’s eyes and she looked around, so Aragorn stepped forward and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“He probably just wandered off to clear his head,” he reassured her gently. “I will go look for him. You stay here with the others.” Though hesitant, the Witch nodded with a small sigh and sat down on one of the many large rocks on the shore. She watched as the Ranger disappeared into the woods, an uneasy feeling sinking into her stomach. Legolas was quick to notice that, and he began walking over to her but suddenly paused.

“What is it?” Alphine questioned softly. The elf had no time to say anything before a terrifying sounding war cry broke through the trees. Without warning, a swarm of Uruk-hai and Orcs surrounded them. In an instant the Fellowship was up.

“Get to the woods,” Legolas instructed urgently. Of course Alphine’s first priority was the hobbits, so she made sure Sam, Merry, Brooke, Pippin and Camelia entered the woods before her. Immediately Sam ran off to find Frodo, ignoring Alphine’s cries for him to come back. She knew it was all four naught, however, so she instead focused on the rest of the Hobbits. Unfortunately that didn’t last long as she was suddenly surrounded by a small mass of Orcs ready to kill her.

It took her no time at all to take them down with both her magic and her sword, but by the time she managed to get away the Hobbits and Lalia had practically disappeared. She began running in the last direction she saw them go, but paused momentarily when she heard a horn being blown in the distance. It was the horn of Gondor. Boromir. That kicked her brain into overdrive and she picked up her pace, sprinting to where the noise was coming from.

A horde of Uruk-hai soldiers were rushing towards Merry, Pippin and Camelia, only being stopped by Boromir. There were too many for him to handle on his own, so she stepped in, taking down as many as she could as she attempted to reach them. There was little time for talk as they began felling every soldier that came near them. Alphine’s focus was solely on the soldiers right in front of her, so she didn’t have a lot of sight on her surroundings. That meant that she hadn’t noticed the leader of the Uruk-hai taking aim with his bow and arrow from a distance. But Boromir did.

“Alphine!” The Witch was suddenly pushed aside by the Man, but before she could question what he was doing she was shocked to see an arrow suddenly fly into his chest. A gasp left her lips as the man grunted. She began searching for the direction the arrow had come from, but in her panic she just couldn’t find it. Her focus was on Boromir once again as a second arrow landed in his chest. The Man staggered back, but when Alphine moved to help him he held a hand up to stop her.

“Keep fighting!” He demanded. In her distraction a soldier managed to get close enough to stab his makeshift sword into her side. A pained cry left her lips as she fell in shock, and at the same time the leader shot a third and final arrow, hitting his mark for the third time. The three wounds combined was what finally brought Boromir to his knees. The Uruk-hai used their falls to their advantage and advanced upon them, scooping up the Hobbits in one fell swoop and ran off.

Alphine attempted to get up, but was quickly knocked down by the mass. They trampled her, which only added to her pain. Faintly she could hear the Hobbits calling her and Boromir’s name, but she could do nothing until the area finally cleared out. She shakily began to get up, but froze when she noticed the Uruk-hai leader standing in front of Boromir, who was still surprisingly on his knees. She watched weakly as the creature aimed his loaded bow straight at the Man’s heart.

He was suddenly stopped when Aragorn charged at him from behind, smashing the bow with his sword. The two locked in a deadly battle, and Alphine used that time to shakily crawl over to Boromir, who’d finally fallen to the ground. She quickly grabbed him and used what was left of her strength to move him out of the way. After a moment she managed to lean against a nearby tree, carefully tapping his face to wake him up.

“Come, Boromir, you must stay awake,” she whispered urgently. The man’s eyes barely opened, then they trailed down to Alphine’s wounded side.

“You’re hurt,” the man gasped out. The Witch shook her head with a weak smile.

“Do not worry about me,” she retorted gently. “You must stay awake.” She continued to keep him awake and tried to stop the bleeding as Aragorn finally finished the leader off by decapitating him. Once he was sure the leader was dead, he rushed over to Boromir and Alphine.

“They took the little ones,” Boromir informed him painfully. Aragorn helped her staunch the flow of blood from the Man’s wounds.

“Boromir, you must stay still,” Alphine reprimanded, though there was no conviction behind her words. Boromir didn’t listen to her as he looked at Aragorn in a panic.

“Frodo…where is Frodo?”

“I let Frodo go,” he answered soothingly. Boromir nodded, a sad glint in his eyes.

“Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him,” he confessed.

“The Ring is beyond our reach now,” Alphine responded in the same tone as Aragorn, taking his hand.

“Forgive me,” Boromir muttered, squeezing her hand weakly. “I did not see… I have failed you all.” Immediately they began protesting.

“No, Boromir, you fought bravely. You have kept your honor,” Aragorn retorted softly yet firmly. He began trying to bind the Man’s wound, but he stopped him.

“Leave it! It is over...the world of Men will fall and all will come to darkness and my city to ruin..Aragorn..” Alphine looked at Aragorn helplessly. He shook his head.

“I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you... I will not let the White City fall, nor your people fail…”

“Our people...our people…” Boromir corrected weakly. Alphine noticed his free hand reaching out for something. His sword. She carefully leaned over and placed the sword in his hand, watching his fingers tighten around the hilt. His eyes met hers, and she knew that his time was coming to an end.

“Do not cry for me,” he whispered upon noticing tears welling up in her eyes, weakly lifting a hand to cradle her face as a form of comfort. “Remember me fondly. You are a wonderful person, Alphine Barrowes.” The girl nodded at him with a small smile and a quiet sniffle.

“I will. And no one blames you, Boromir. You were amazing,” she whispered, voice cracking in the middle of her sentence. He nodded with what little strength he had and a weak smile then faced Aragorn.

“I would have followed you, my brother...my captain, my King,” he muttered. Alphine could practically feel the life leaving him as he spoke. And with that, the last light left his eyes and he became limp in the man’s arms. His free hand fell from Alphine’s cheek, landing by his side. Aragorn carefully laid Boromir on the ground, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead afterwards.

“Be at peace, son of Gondor,” he whispered.

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr imagine #legolas greenleaf #legolas imagine #legolas x oc

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elvish-sky · 4 years ago

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Look Back {Thorin x Reader}

A.N: A thousand thanks to @guardianofrivendell , who kinda kickstarted this entire fic with their great idea (everyone go check out their work, it’s incredible!). Quick note on character ages- after the five years later bit Sigrid is 20, Otto is 3, and Kieran of course is relative to your age. I honestly really enjoyed writing this, even the parts where it made me cry (a good emotional outlet. Send me more angsty requests!) so I really hope it’s what you wanted, Anon!

Requested by Anon on Tumblr: Thanks for answering my ask about angst! No worries if it'll take a while, so long as you're healthy and not stressing out about it, I will wait cuz your writing is soo worth it)I was wondering if I could request an either thorin x reader(f!human) or kili x Reader(f!human) where the reader is dumped by them and she moves on (like ends up with an elf or another dwarf) and lives a happy life, and thorin or kili regrets having left them and tries to get them back but sees that they lost their One cuz of their mistake and regrets it? (Is that too angsty?? I'm so sorry if it is!)

Word Count: 4,576. The longest thing I’ve ever written is an angst fic. Huh.

Summary: Thorin doesn’t want to push back against the council when they say you cannot be married.

Pairings: Thorin x Reader, OC (I have those now. Huh.) x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Regret, End of Relationship, Sadness, Fluff

Director’s Commentary

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Look Back

“It is the will of the council that, since Y/N is not a dwarf, the two of you shall not be married, and cannot be together.”

Your head jerked up. You had been expecting pushback, but not a flat-out refusal. Turning your head to look at Thorin, you saw him bow his head in defeat.

“Very well. If it is the will of the council.”

The words hit you in the chest like an arrow. You thought he would fight for you, but no. You weren’t worth it. You rose and left without another word, slipping between the doors as the council watched you go. Balin sighed from his seat midway down the stone table, shaking his head in disappointment at the whole room.

Arriving at your rooms, the ones right next to Thorin’s that you had been so proud of, you started shoving your belongings into a sack, leaving anything that had been given to you by your former love out. You didn’t want any reminders of him, even to see him ever again.

Sadly, your wish to not see him didn’t work, as shown very quickly. Barely three minutes after you had entered your rooms, he came bursting through the carved double doors.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I can’t disobey the council.”

You scoffed, grabbing your few tunics and folding them into the bag.

He continued, “You can stay, we can ask again in a few months, give them more time to warm up to the idea.”

“No. If I’m not worth fighting for now, how do I know I’ll be worth it then?”

You were drawing the string closed on your meager bag of belongings. It was rather sad to think how little you actually owned, versus what had been gifted to you by your former betrothed.

“I’m not going to risk my heart like this, Thorin. I can see that I never actually mattered.”

“Y/N-”

You cut him off.

“You’ve broken promises before, but I never thought you’d break this one, Thorin Oakenshield.”

You had been undoing your courting braid as you spoke, and now flung the bead at him. It fell into his hand, and you didn’t even spare a moment for the pain in his eyes as you slammed the door behind you, leaving a king with everything feeling as if he had just lost the one thing that really mattered.

You arrived at the gates to Erebor to see something rather unexpected. The entire company was gathered there, and you stopped in front of them. They were all gazing at you with unshed tears in their eyes, and looking at them you couldn’t believe how far you all had come from that ragged company running for their lives. It made you sad to think about leaving, when the reminders of what you were giving up were all right there.

“I’m sorry about the council, lass.” Balin was the first to speak. “I tried to sway them, but it just couldn’t be done. I’ll keep trying.”

You mustered a small smile for the old dwarf. “Thank you, Balin, but you don’t have to keep beating a dead horse. We both know nothing will come of it.”

Each member of the company stepped forward and said goodbye, hugging you before moving back to the group. Dwalin settled for briefly squeezing you, before stepping back with a muttered, “I’ll miss yeh, lass.” You saw him surreptitiously wipe a tear from his cheek, and giggled a little.

Nori slipped a few coins into your pocket, as well as a set of lock picks. “You never know when they’ll come in handy.”

Dori was crying as he pressed several bags of tea leaves into your hand. You sniffed them, recognizing the scent of your favorite kind.

Ori was also teary as he quickly wrapped a knitted scarf around your neck. “It gets cold out there,” were his parting words before he retreated to stand next to Dori.

You let out a small laugh as Gloin handed you an ax. “I already have my sword!”

“Yes, lassie, but everyone knows axes are better.” There were gasps of outrage, but you were glad that the dwarf had lightened the mood, even just a little. Besides, the axe truly was gorgeous. A lovely specimen of dwarven craftsmanship, with a beautifully carved handle.

“Is that a dragon?” Gloin nodded, and you marveled at the intricacies.

Bifur approached next, pressing a carving into your hand. You looked at the figure. “That’s me!” He nodded, and you gazed at the detail he had worked in, even the etchings on your sword were visible in the wood.

Bombur handed you a satchel, and you opened it. You gave the dwarf a big hug as you saw the honey-scones packing it to the brim. “My favorite.”

“The recipe is in there too.” You couldn”t resist giving him a second hug of thanks.

Bofur came forward after his brother. “I’d sing you something, but I’m not sure I can do it without crying.” You straightened his hat, which had been set askew by your hug, as he stepped back.

Fili and Kili were last. Fili approached you slowly, but Kili shoved him out of the way and crashed into you. Burying his face in your coat, he whispered, “I really wanted to get to call you Auntie.”

You choked back tears, wrapping your arms around him as his brother joined the hug.

“You’ll write to us?” Fili looked as if he was trying not to cry as well, while Kili had given up and had tears visibly streaming down his cheeks.

“I will.” You broke away with difficulty and gave the group one last look. “Thank you all, so much.” They nodded, and you turned and walked out of the gates, leaving your old love behind.

Thorin watched from the ramparts high above as you left. He knew he had made the right choice for his kingdom, but it hurt. The expression on your face was slowly killing him, and he knew whatever his doubts had been that you had truly loved him. He had loved you too, but he thought he loved his kingdom more. Nevertheless, he found himself hoping that you would turn around, come back, even though he knew he would have to turn you away.

You didn’t turn around.

You didn’t even look back.

*Five Years Later*

You shouldered the door open, arms full of papers. “I’m home!”

“Mama!” A small shape barreled into you and you barely managed to hold onto the papers, handing them to your husband before scooping the three-year-old up.

“Otto! How was your day?” You pressed a kiss to Otto’s forehead before pecking Kieran on the cheek as you brushed by him into the sitting room. There was a fire going, smoke drifting up the chimney and you stood near it, warming hands chilled by the brisk fall air.

“Good! Look what I made!” Otto wiggled out of your grasp and trotted over to the table, where after lots of jumping he finally managed to catch hold of something. He placed it in your lap, and you weren’t sure whether to be mad or touched. You settled for shooting a glare at Kieran before oohing and ahhing over the crudely carved figure.

“It’s you, Mommy! Like the one on the table!”

Examining it closer, you could see something that looked like a sword. It was nowhere near the skill of Bifur’s carving that you still treasured, but it was very sweet nonetheless.

“Wonderful job, darling.”

“Are we going to the market today?” Otto looked up at you with pleading eyes.

“Why?” You shot a suspicious glance at Kieran, who assumed a very innocent expression.

“Because Da said that if we went to the market and got ingredients you would make the honey scones!”

“He did, did he?”

Kieran looked guilty as you frowned at him.

“Don’t worry. Let’s put our boots on and head out!”

Otto jumped with excitement and ran to grab his boots.

You crossed your arms and glared at your husband. “I cannot believe you let him use a knife.”

“He’s three! He’s old enough. Besides, I was watching him the whole time.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!” You threw your hands up in exasperation before kissing him.

“But don’t worry, I still love you.”

“I love you too.” Kieran drew you in for a deeper kiss, and you responded enthusiastically.

“Let’s go!!” Your moment was interrupted by Otto, practically bouncing with excitement by the door. You laughed at him and wrapped your scarf, still holding up five years later, around your neck. Linking arms with Kieran, you giggled as Otto tugged on his hat from his perch on his father’s shoulders, and walked out the door.

The streets of Dale were bustling, people going to the market, or the King’s house just down your street.

Having been a hero of the Battle of the Five Armies, and one of two members of the company who had seen reason (the other being Bilbo, of course), you had a close friendship with King Bard. When you had marched into Dale after leaving Erebor, eyes still swollen with tears, he and his children had taken care of you, and it was because of him that you had met Kieran.

Two months after leaving Erebor, you had been helping Bard train recruits for Dale’s army. Most of the men disliked being trained by a girl, but one had taken your advice and training exactly as he would a man’s. He had grown skilled, and after striking up a friendship had asked to court you. You had said yes, even though you weren’t over Thorin, but had quickly fallen head over heels in love. Kieran was perfect. He respected your fighting skills and didn’t mind your closeness to the king. He was sweet, kind, funny, and in his eyes every was perfect until proven otherwise. He always saw the best in people, never the worst. In other words, he was everything Thorin hadn’t been, and more.

The two of you were married in a ceremony officiated by the King Bard six months after he had asked to court you, a year after leaving Erebor. Fili, Kili, and Balin had attended the ceremony, sneaking away from their royal duties for a day on the pretense of a diplomatic mission. You had kept your promise to write, and although the news of you finding someone else was hard for the two princes, they were happy your heart had started to heal. You had gotten pregnant two months later, news which was received with joy from everyone who heard. Upon reading your letter announcing the news that Fili decided to show him in the middle of a council meeting (later recognized as an extremely bad decision), Kili had let out a whoop of joy, looking guilty when everyone looked at him and promptly throwing the letter into the fire. You had laughed uproariously upon hearing this story from Fili the next time he made it to Dale. The day that Otto was born, your heart healed more. You still remembered the pain you had felt leaving Erebor, of feeling like you did not matter, but it was better now. You had been able to keep in touch with most of the company, all who had been to visit at some point after his birth. You didn’t know if Thorin knew you had moved on or had a child, but you were getting to the point where you could forgive him, just a little, for the past.

Swinging your hand entwined with Kieran’s, you made your way through the market, stopping at all your favorite stalls to chat and pick out baking ingredients. Noticing Sigrid, Bard’s eldest daughter, picking up honey, you talked while inspecting the jars.

“Da’s been taking half a jar to put in his tea, lately. I think he’s craving sugar.”

“More than usual?”

You laughed at Kieran’s comment. “Tell him we’re making honey scones tonight. I’ll bring some up later.”

“He’ll appreciate that, although hopefully, Bain doesn’t eat them all first like he did last time!”

“I wanna eat all the scones with Bain!” Otto was feeling left out from his perch.

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased to have the company.” Sigrid giggled at him, passing a flower up to him before waving goodbye.

“She’s a good kid.” Kieran looked after her fondly.

“We’re not that much older than she is!” You pointed this out as you brushed flower petals out of his hair, Otto looking sad as his work was undone.

“Now c’mon. We still need to buy more flour, especially if we’re making scones for Bard!”

You set off again, laughing with your family as you wound through the market. You were in the middle of the artisanal section when a hush fell, the sea of people parting as something made its way through. You kept moving forward, pushing people aside to see what was happening, until you came face to face with Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain.

“Y/N.” He was the first to acknowledge you, looking as if it pained him to do so.

“Thorin.” There were gasps at your familiarity, but you didn’t care. You promptly turned around, grabbing your husband’s hand and dragging him, a silent Otto clinging to his shoulders, away.

You didn’t look back this time, either.

“You didn’t tell me she had a child!”

Thorin was back in Erebor, pacing around his chambers as Balin watched. He had been unable to think properly after seeing you in the market, and Fili and Balin had decided that the best course of action, or at least the one least likely to cause a diplomatic incident, was to reschedule the meeting with Bard and bring him back to the Lonely Mountain.

“You never asked.” Balin had resigned himself to having a hard conversation the minute he saw you in the market, he just didn’t know what exactly that conversation would be like. They had managed to keep the two of you apart for the last five years, but it was bound to happen sometime.

“But...she has a child.” Thorin was devastated.

He had found out that you had kept in touch with the company six months after you left, coming across Kili reading a letter from you in the library. The fact that Kili was in the library in the first place was suspicious enough, and his doubts had been confirmed when he snuck up behind his nephew and read the letter over his shoulder.

His gasp of, “She’s courting someone,” had been loud enough to startle half the library. Kili had jumped and tried to hide the parchment, but Thorin had simply crashed down into the chair, head in his hands.

After taking several deep breaths, all the king said was, “She’s moved on. I have to as well,” before rising and brushing himself off, as if to brush the memories of you away. He had seemed fine, but Fili had heard the muttering coming from his room that night, of loss and grief and mistakes.

After that, they had been much better at hiding their correspondence. The brothers had only decided to tell him about your life one more time, a year after you left, saying you had been married. He had taken that news well, it seemed, but Kili had heard the broken sobs coming from the king’s chambers late that night.

“She cannot be happy with that- that man!” Now, Thorin seemed to be taking this news hardest of all.

“She is, lad. We’ve all seen her with them. They’re a family.” Balin was trying to calm him down, but it just wasn’t working.

“But, she’d be happier here. With me!” He was pacing the room now, raking his hands through his hair in greater distress.

“Thorin,” Balin grabbed him, stopping him so that the two were face to face, “you still love her.”

The king staggered back, falling onto his bed. His head was in his hands again, almost mirroring how he had looked with Kili four years ago.

“Lad?”

“Leave.”

The one word was whispered, quieter than Balin had ever heard his king. He left, closing the door and signaling to the guard outside that the king was not to be disturbed.

The next morning, Thorin walked out of his rooms with an air of purpose about him. He was wearing an old cloak, to not be recognized as the king. Fili and Kili still managed to notice the distinct gait of their uncle and stopped him in the halls right near the gate.

“Where are you going?” Kili looked concerned.

“Balin was right last night. I am still in love with Y/N, so I’m going to bring her back.”

The identical looks of shock on his nephew’s face would have been hilarious in other circumstances.

“You’re still in love with Y/N?!”

“Keep up, Kili!” Fili smacked his brother before continuing.

“Uncle, I hate to say this, but remember how she looked at you yesterday? I don’t think she’ll be happy to see you.”

Kili nodded at his brother’s words. “Besides, you’re the king. How are you going to convince the council when you failed five years ago?”

Thorin looked a little surprised at that, as if he hadn’t quite thought that far ahead, but shook it off. “She will be happy to see me this time. I’m going to Dale.”

“Uncle, no!” Kili tried to block his way, but Thorin shoved past him, disappearing quickly.

“Follow him to Dale, I’ll tell Balin and the rest of the company.” Fili brushed his brother off and turned to go back to the royal wing as Kili disappeared after their uncle.

You were making your way through the twisting streets of Dale, delivering scones to friends as you went. You had stopped at the market to give some to the honey-vendor, who always appreciated them, before turning back the direction you came. You stopped back home to pick up the basket you had made for Bard, walking in on Kieran and Otto stuffing their faces with scones and looking incredibly guilty, before continuing the walk up the hill. You were ushered in by Hakon, as usual (Bard didn’t like keeping servants, he said it made him feel “stuffy,” but a king was afforded certain privileges), and you gave him a grateful smile as he took your heavy scarf to hang up.

“I have scones!” You entered Bard’s office, plopping the basket on his desk from which he immediately grabbed one.

“Delicious.”

You smiled at his praise, laughing as Bain burst through the doorway behind you.

“Did I hear scones?” He quickly dove for the basket, grabbing two.

“One for each hand!” He tried to justify this before shrugging and taking a bite, giving you a thumbs up.

“I’ve got to go home, make sure Kieran and Otto aren’t in a food coma, but I’m glad you like them!”

The king and his son nodded at you, waving goodbye as their mouths were still stuffed with a scone.

“And save some for the girls!” You left with that, laughing at their sad faces.

It was pleasant out, the sort of fall day you looked forward to, so you decided that Kieran and Otto could spare you for a little while, just long enough for you to take a walk on the walls of the city.

The view of the mountain was gorgeous from here. When you had first left, you had spent hours staring, wondering if you had made a mistake by leaving. Now, you just liked to appreciate the view.

“Want to come back?”

You jumped, spinning to see Thorin standing behind you. You hadn’t really paused to look at him the day before, but now you noticed he looked different. Not bad, but it didn’t look as if he’d found happiness the way you had.

He stepped forward. “Y/N. I’ve come to ask you to rejoin me in the mountain.”

Your jaw dropped. “What? Do you want me to move in with my family? That seems like a bad idea.”

“No, Y/N,” he took your hand and you were too surprised to remove it from his grasp, “I want you to be my queen.”

You laughed and jerked your hand away. It wasn’t a sound of amusement, no. It sounded empty.

Hollow.

“We saw how well that went last time.”

“No, Y/N. This time I mean it. Come to Erebor.”

“I’m happy here, Thorin. I have a husband and a child.”

“Your child can come too, and I’m sure I can do much better for you than that man!”

Your cheeks reddened with anger as you balled up your fists, trying to restrain yourself. “I’m happy here, Thorin! I don’t need you to take me to Erebor when I have everything I could possibly want already!”

He looked as if you had physically hit him.

“Y/N, you deserve more than this, though! The council won’t be any trouble this time.”

“And you think you’re the one who can give me what I deserve?” You laughed again, the hollow sound caught by the wind.

“No, dwarf. I have everything I deserve right here and I’m not going to let you ruin it. This is my happiness, and I will be damned if I let you take that away!”

“Y/N-”

“No. I wasn’t worth fighting for then, I know I won’t be worth it now.”

“But I love you, Y/N.”

“And I loved you, once. But you’re too late.”

He watched as you walked away for the third time, knowing that this was the last.

You didn’t look back.

Kieran knew something was wrong the minute you walked through the door.

“Otto, say bye-bye to Mama and get ready to go with Sigrid!” He strode over to you and hugged you quickly before pulling away.

“Sigrid’s going to take Otto for a few hours.”

“Thank you, Sigrid.” You mustered a smile for her as she tugged her boots back on.

“Of course! C’mon Otto, Bain’s waiting!” She giggled as the child trotted out of his room, looking squishy and adorable in his winter clothes.

He ran over to you and you bent down and hugged him.

“I love you, Mama!”

You kissed his forehead before ushering him to Kieran, who got the same treatment before Otto trotted over to Sigrid and grabbed her hand.

“Bye Y/N! Bye Kieran!” You lifted a hand in farewell as they left, waiting for the door to close behind them before collapsing into Kieran’s arms.

He immediately started to murmur to you, whispering reassurances in your ear as he guided you to sit next to him. He waited for your sobs to fade before speaking.

“What happened?”

“I went for a- a walk on the walls and I ran into Th- Thorin,” you choked out, voice breaking when you said his name.

You could see Kieran’s face soften in understanding.

“Did he harm you?”

You shook your head. “He wanted me to marry him. He…” you hesitated as you saw Kieran’s eyes spark with anger, but continued.

“He said you weren’t good enough for me. I told him you were better than I deserved.”

His eyes lightened again and he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Do you need to talk it out?” That was one of the things you loved about Kieran, he didn’t offer solutions or try to fix all your problems, he just listened. He knew that when you had an issue, you just wanted someone to talk to, not to come up with ideas but just to support you.

You nodded. “I just, I felt so bad for him. And I know I shouldn’t, but he just seems so lonely.”

“Do you want to go back? He’s right, you deserve more than me.”

Your head snapped up. “No! Kieran, why would you think that? I’m happy here. I have the perfect husband and a wonderful child, and I wouldn’t trade any of that for the world.”

He still looked doubtful.

“Kieran, he broke my heart five years ago, and yes, I was in love with him then, but you picked up the broken pieces and helped me heal. I’d never leave you.”

You kissed him on the lips this time, trying to convey just how much he meant to you. “I love you,” you whispered, pulling away.

“I love you too.” He pulled you back in for another kiss. When you broke apart you lay your head on his chest as he moved to lay down.

“Let’s take advantage of the extra rest before Otto gets back.”

You laughed at him and felt the rumble of his chest as his breaths deepened, watching him fall asleep. As you faded into unconsciousness, you couldn’t help but think that after all you’d been through, you were so unbelievably lucky to have found Kieran.

Thorin had never understood what people meant when they called Erebor The Lonely Mountain. Now, walking up to the gates alone, he got it. Something was missing, something that he’d never noticed before but now felt the absence of more keenly than ever. He couldn’t believe that he had failed to win you back. He hadn’t realized just how much he had hurt you five years ago, but the pain in your eyes had made it very clear.

“I’m sorry, Uncle.” Kili appeared next to him as he walked up to the gates.

Thorin ignored him, ignored the salutes and waves he got from his subjects as he made a beeline for his rooms, Kili dashing around in his wake to fix the wounded pride of every dwarf he ignored.

Once Thorin made it to his rooms he locked the door behind him, taking slight delight even through his misery at the thump meaning Kili had crashed into it, before collapsing in his chair.

He still was in shock. No, not shock, he was devastated. It had never occurred to him that you would be happy in Dale, wouldn’t want to rule a kingdom. He had thought that he wasn’t in love with you for the better part of five years, and once he realized he still was he hadn’t thought you wouldn’t feel the same.

A knock sounded at the door. “Please let us in, Uncle.”

Thorin sighed and went to undo the bolts.

Fili and Kili entered, both looking much more subdued than usual. Fili took in how Thorin’s coat was thrown on the floor, his boots tossed haphazardly in each direction and sighed.

“What do you need?” Despite knowing how Thorin had hurt you, Kili couldn’t help but feel bad for his uncle. He had never seen Thorin like this. He looked broken.

“I need to be alone.”

His nephews nodded, actually obeying him for once, and slipped out the door.

Thorin was again left alone with his thoughts. Somehow, he had realized that you had been his One. That was why he had said out to make things better. But he had failed. He had lost his One, the only person who he could ever love didn’t love him back.

Thorin buried his head in his hands, letting out a broken sob. For the fourth time in his life, he had failed. He was too late.

Everything tag <3: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @anjhope1 @boyruins

Thorin tag <3: @lathalea

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jazzistolkienfanfics · 4 years ago

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Beads and Braids - Kili x reader

Type: Imagine Pairing: Kili x reader Summary: post BOTFA, everyone lives!AU, in which Y/N, a girl from Rohan seeking shelter in Erebor, befriends the Princes, and the mischievous Kili needs better ways of confessing his feelings. Warnings: ‘fuck’, ‘shit’ Word Count: 2735

All italicised, non-English words are in Khuzdul, one of the main Dwarvish languages.

Y/N was no stranger to being alone, nor was she unused to being unusual. Being on the run from a dangerous league of hunter assassins that were sweeping through her hometown of Rohan, spending months trying to reach Erebor, the Mountain of Gold, then arriving only to be turned away, had taught her not to care too much about loneliness.

Sure, she’d been allowed in eventually, after she’d insisted to the stingy King Thorin Oakenshield that she had ‘absolutely no fucking interest in your goddamn gold’, but the reminder that she wasn’t wanted in Erebor still stung dully day after day, even as she attempted to bury the emotion beneath layers of stone.

Although, she was no longer completely shunned while in Erebor. The first few weeks had been difficult, especially as she was at least eight inches taller than everyone else, even as a relatively short human - Y/N was surrounded by Dwarves, and it was a transformative experience (she enjoyed being tall for a change).

But as time went on, the Dwarves became far more accepting - mostly because when Bard visited with his children, Sigrid and Tilda (who was the reason they were there, to say hello to the ‘lucky Dwarves from the toilet’, namely Dwalin, her favourite) and saw her, he spouted a whole speech on the helpfulness of humans in the Battle of the Five Armies, especially how a number of them had charged Azog’s numbers, saving the line of Durin. That made Thorin begrudgingly become kinder to her.

Y/N spent most of her days outside the cold fortress, reading old books on Dwarven culture and their previous interrelations with other relations on the ramparts or the grasses below the Mountain. It was on one of such days that she ran into someone who would change her life.

Well, Y/N didn’t run into him.

He really ran into her.

Y/N had been sitting on the ramparts, her legs swinging over the side and continually tucking her h/c hair behind her ears as the wind blew it into her face. A large book with a f/c leather cover that had stood out to her in the towering shelves of the Library was sitting in her lap, gold-leaf lettering across the front of it boldly proclaiming ‘A History of the Honourable Line of Durin’. She’d been told by Balin (a frequenter of the Library) that it was updated often with the latest triumphs of the youngest of the Line of Durin: Thorin, Fili and Kili, the Royals Under the Mountain.

Y/N wouldn’t lie, she was mostly reading it to make fun Thorin, but then again, history was interesting.

She looked up from a particularly hilarious passage about Thorin’s ‘incredible bravery and innumerable acts of service to the Throne of Erebor’ at the harsh cry of a raven. It circled around her, cawing enthusiastically with something less akin to malevolence and more to happiness in its black eyes, before flying off.

Y/N had been smiling but she frowned when she realised that the raven was not flying towards Erebor, as most did, but away from it.

Then it had to be flying away from something … Y/N connected the dots just as the door to the battlements whipped open and something slammed into her back just as she was turning around, knocking her off the ramparts.

She screamed loudly, looking at the ground beneath her and envisioning the fifty different ways she would splatter all over it.

A hand encased in a brown glove but for the fingers suddenly swung into her view, catching ahold of hers in a startlingly tight grip.

Y/N looked up, seeing a Dwarvish face that was at once familiar and entirely seperate from her small existence in Erebor, and she couldn’t put a name to him.

His brown hair reached just past his shoulders, and was not braided. Paired with his beardless, kinda attractive face (stubble did not count in Y/N’s eyes), Y/N reached the conclusion that he was still young, definitely under 100.

He was holding onto her with one of his hands and his other was held by a blonde Dwarf with much more facial hair than the former and a messy blonde mane like a lion who stood behind the battlements where she had been sitting prior to being knocked off by (presumably) one of the two.

Y/N was very impressed that the Dwarf was holding her up with one hand, as she was at least more than half a foot taller than him, but she had no energy to be focused on that emotion beyond the hot fear coursing through her veins.

“Oi! Pull!” the brown-haired Dwarf yelled, and the blonde did so, clenching his teeth and heaving, until all three of them were safe on the ramparts.

“I am so sorry for my brother’s clumsiness, Miss Y/N!” the bearded, seemingly older Dwarf apologised.

“Itkit! (Shut up!)” the younger brother hissed, giving the blonde a scathing glare. “But I do apologise, Lady Y/N.” He emphasised the title he gave her, though it was definitely not one she actually possessed.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N replied to the two enthusiastic Dwarves with confusion etched all over her face. Here they were, having knocked her off the side of a fucking Castle, calling her ‘Lady’ and apparently knowing her name when she could not match a name to either of their faces. “How do you know my name? Do I know you?”

“Oh, that’s right,” the brunette said thoughtfully, turning to his brother. “Uncle Thorin said she was new.”

“He also said she was a-”

“Oh Mahal, shut up! How many languages do I have to say that in?”

Uncle Thorin? Oh shit ....

“Anyway. Prince Fili-”

“-and Prince Kili-”

“At your service!” they both chimed, bowing low in unison and springing back up with wide grins that made them seem a lot younger than they probably were.

“Fuck...” Y/N muttered under her breath, curtseying as low as she could. “My Princes, I apologise-”

Her embarrassed apology was cut short with a squeak flying from her mouth as she was yet again jerked up by Kili, who brushed off her f/c dress that was dirty from falling off the ramparts.

“Lady Y/N, you needn’t apologise; it is technically my fault for knocking you off the walls of Erebor!”

“Then you needn’t call me Lady Y/N,” the girl retorted, almost instantly regretting the familiarity with a royal figure, but also proud when Kili gave a loud laugh and wide smile. “I’m just Y/N.”

“Alright then, Just Y/N,” Kili teased, wiggling his eyebrows and taking her hand, kissing it gently. “On behalf of the Prince of Erebor-”

“-Princes, you little shit,” Fili interrupted, casually spinning a knife on his fingers.

“... Princes of Erebor,” Kili rolled his eyes. “Welcome, new friend.”

---

“You two are unbelievable,” Y/N complained, though a wide smile was affixed on her face.

“We know,” Fili and Kili replied, both still covered in flour from when they’d begun to throw it like snowballs in the middle of baking with her.

“Well, at least we salvaged-” Y/N cut herself off as she took the cake out of the oven. “Mahal. What is that?”

The cake was less a cake, and more a complete mess. Half of it looked gooey and porous, and the other half burnt. Y/N just turned to the brothers, raising an eyebrow.

They eyed each other too, shuffling their feet.

Y/N sighed. “This is why we don’t have food fights in the kitchen, guys.”

Fili and Kili had the decency to look a little sheepish as Y/N turned to dump the mess in the bin. As she did so, she glanced out the window and flinched.

“Shit! I’m meant to meet Bard soon - it’s a meeting of great importance. And I’m not ready, there is flour everywhere, my hair is a mess-”

“Well, we can handle at least one of those things,” Kili told Y/N, lightly pushing her into a chair, his hands clean of flour now. “I know a really good hairstyle for special occasions - our mother used to wear it.”

He began to run his fingers through her hair, gently untangling the knots with a brush Fili gave him (honestly, how much did that Dwarf have in his coat?) and braiding it. Y/N closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his hands in her hair and its soothingness. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, flushing red.

Was she falling for the Prince of Erebor?

No, surely not. After all, he was a dwarf, and she a human: a human the King of Erebor didn’t exactly have a partiality towards. It would never work out.

That doesn’t mean feelings just stop, dumbass. Y/N’s brain reasoned. She rolled her eyes at herself.

“Alright, it’s done! And Fili and I will clean up the kitchen,” Kili announced, pulling her up and lightly dusting off her f/c dress, careful to avoid any areas it was improper to touch, a small hint of pink on his cheeks as he did so. Y/N pulled some of her hair around her shoulders - Kili had done several braids amongst her loose hair, most of them tied with black bands but one with a beautiful bead in it that she didn’t get a proper look at.

(A/N - imagine this hairstyle, but only one bead, and that bead has lots of jewels all in different colours)

“We’ll clean up what?” Fili protested. Kili smirked, pushing her out the door.

“We’ll see you later, Y/N!”

---

Y/N ran as fast as she could, considering her annoyingly impractical skirt, and she finally skidded to a stop in the snow outside the great doors, taking in who was there.

Bard bowed his head in greeting, his eldest daughter, Sigrid by his side. (Y/N had thought she had heard faint giggles from inside, meaning Tilda was hanging out with Dwalin again), Thorin stood impatiently, leaning on his sword, and next to him, keeping a petty distance was …

“My lord Thranduil,” Y/N bowed, having also read all about the infamously glamorous Elvenking of Mirkwood. “I apologise for my tardiness.”

“You are on time, Y/N,” Bard said, giving Thorin a side-eye. The damages of the Battle of the Five Armies went far beyond death.

Thorin chose to sit on a ledge that a) placed him higher than all of those present and b) allowed him to rest. Recovering from being impaled by the Pale Orc was a lengthy process, and one still far from finishing.

“What is the importance of this meeting?” Y/N asked, eager to go back to her chambers and think on the startling discoveries she’d made on what her heart told her about Kili Durin.

“The purpose, Y/N, is for this …”

---

After the meeting, Y/N went to leave, but Thorin called her name, stopping her.

“Yes, my King?”

He reached for one of the braids Kili had put in her hair, smiling kinder than she had ever seen him do so.

“Kili’s bead. So you have not tamed the Lion, but you have chosen the Fox. Loyal, yet cheeky and sweet.”

Y/N opened her mouth, confused, but Thorin kept speaking.

“I congratulate you on your courtship, Y/N. I wish you much love and happiness.”

“My King, I’m sorry, but I am not courting-”

He swept off in a majestic swirl of furs, leaving Y/N with a finger raised and her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.

“Courting?” she wondered aloud. “What in Middle-Earth ...”

Suddenly, she recalled Thorin’s observation of ‘Kili’s bead’, and she pulled her hair in front of her face, scanning it for the singular, beautiful silver bead, with its nine differently-coloured gemstones, and some vague thought buried in the back of her brain called to her.

“That Dwarf ...” Y/N cursed colourfully, tossing her hair over her shoulder, picking up her skirts and running as fast as she could to the most familiar area of Erebor.

The Library. Shelves upon shelves, thousands stretching out further than Y/N could see from the entrance. She raced for the section on Dwarvish customs, pulling a dusty red tome titled ‘Dwarves and Their Secrets - The Rites and Customs of Their Culture’ and flipping through it, coughing as swirls of dust swam into the air.

Finding the page she was after, she slammed the open book onto a nearby table, running her finger down the page as her h/c hair fell in her face.

“That little fuck,” Y/N hissed, closing the book with a slam and sliding down one of the shelves until she sat on the floor, her arms curled around her knees, her face hidden from the world and vice verse by her h/l hair.

“So you found out,” a meek voice said, prompting Y/N to lift her head as Kili sat next to her.

“You bet your non-existent beard I did,” Y/N grumbled.

“I’m sorry,” Kili mumbled, burying his face in his hands, which were large, the same size as yours. “I didn’t know how to tell you that I liked you. I chose the coward’s way out.”

“I can understand that,” Y/N admitted. “Although telling everyone that why were courting via my hairstyle was not the smartest way of going about it.”

“Well, technically, your hairstyle doesn’t say you are dating. (A/N: this part here is completely made up) These braids in this style, paired with the loose hair actually means unrequited love. And seeing as I did your hair, and I have a matching braid-” he briefly pushed his hair behind his ear, pulling on a small braid, that was, indeed matching, even with a simpler version of the bead, with only two gems. “-it basically tells everyone that I have a crush on you. Uncle Thorin just misunderstood because he only looked at the bead, which he knows I own.”

“What do the gems mean?” Y/N asked, knowing she was avoiding the topic of Kili’s love for her and her possible love for him, but too afraid to cross that bridge.

Kili smiled nervously, already flushing from what he anticipated Y/N’s reaction to be, and he pulled the bead from her hair, pointing to each gem as he explained their meaning.

“The white one with the blue sheen - moonstone. It means patience, like how I am willing to wait for you. This pink one is morganite. It symbolises divine love and prosperity. These two are the ones that I have in my matching bead.” And Y/N saw that this was indeed true.

“The red ruby, which symbolises passion.” Kili’s cheeks looked as red as the jewel as he hurriedly moved on. “An emerald, green, which is fertility. Not only in children, but fertility in the soil that grows the flowers of success. Old wive’s tale. The purple one’s an opal - which is for emotional purity. It’s meant to guard against jealousy and anger. The garnet and the citrine - orange and the yellow - both stand for protection, though the citrine also provides prosperity and success.”

Y/N was completely entranced by his knowledge of the gems, even as he came to the last few.

“This pastel blue one is for fidelity, although I don’t think you need that, you have loads of it.” Y/N and Kili laughed together, and Kili fixed the bead back in her hair.

“Wait! You didn’t explain the last one!” Y/N protested, eager to hear more.

Kili stopped, smiling. “Oh. That’s a sapphire, which means trust, like how I’m trusting you with my heart. But I put it in there because it’s the exact colour of your eyes.”

Y/N was so touched by this last one, that he trusted her with his heart, even after she heard that it had been broken by the death of the Mirkwood elleth, Tauriel, that she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. On the floor, they were a similar height, and he hugged her back lightly.

“You know, Kili of the Line of Durin,” Y/N said teasingly as her arms lingered around his neck, though she pulled back so she could look him in the eye. “I think I need to thank you for the bead and the braids, because you made me realise something.”

“What?” Kili breathed.

“I realised I’m kinda in love with you.”

And hidden in the endless shelves of the library, Y/N kissed him, right there and then.

Hi there guys! I’ll be putting up a dialogue prompts request list soon for you to request UP TO THREE numbers.

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to heart this imagine, give me a follow and/or request (it makes my day so much!).

#kilixreader #xreader #kili #thehobbit #thehobbitxreader #you #x reader #kili x reader #the hobbit #imagine

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harringtown · 5 years ago

Text

keep me afloat in this cold world

finally a non angsty fic in this drabble series!! also, you dont need to read these in order or read the others to understand what’s going on, i just love this au and cant commit to a full chapter fic so i do lil drabbles!!

read the other parts: (1) bound to burn - (2) tell the heroes

Summary: AU in which soulmates share pain (aka the reader gets their period and steve feels it and is overdramatic)

Word Count:1.5k

Warnings: none

“I think I’m dying,” Steve announces, stumbling into the living room with his hands pressed to his gut, features twisted. He falls onto the couch, shifting so he can drop his head onto your lap and craning it to look up at you. Positively pitiful, with his hair mussed from continually raking his fingers through it and a too-large-hoodie dwarfing his figure.

“You’re not dying,” you say, “you’re on my period.”

He groans, hands falling to his stomach. You swat his hands away, replacing them with your own, gently kneading against the lower belly, massaging the way you’ve done to yourself over the years. He frowns, but settles more comfortably against you, and you let your hands rest atop his stomach.

“Am I gonna…you know…” He crinkles his nose, brows lifting, and you snort a laugh.

“Bleed? No. Haven’t you felt this before?”

He shrugs, and says, “Yeah, but I didn’t know what it was.”

“And what did you think it was?”

Another shrug.

“Food poisoning?”

“For five days a month, every month?”

He rolls his eyes, waving a hand dismissively, and you snort a laugh.

“I can’t talk, I guess. We sported the same bruises for a week after Jonathan Byers beat you up, and I didn’t figure out what was going on.”

“I didn’t even know I could have it. Or get it. Whatever.”

“I guess it makes sense. You feel my pain, and since mine are particularly painful, you get a helping of it.”

“More than a helping,” he grumbles. You roll your eyes.

“Woe is you.” You lightly push him up and off of you, slipping off the couch and heading for the kitchen, Steve humming in disapproval before getting up and joining you. He pulls himself up onto the counter, feet thumping the cabinets below him rhythmically, watching as you sift through the pantry and freezer.

You pull out a fresh tub of ice cream and a bag of pizza rolls, setting them on the island countertop next to a few half eaten bags of chips and a baggie of M&M’s. Gripping the countertop, you lean into it and gesture at the feast with a chin. Steve cocks a brow in question.

“This,” you say, “is the closest thing to a cure anyone has managed to find.”

“There’s not, like, medicine you can take? Or some…cream?”

“Cream?”

“I don’t know, something,” he says, lips puckering. “I mean, you and everyone with a…shit, what’s it called?”

“Uterus.”

“You and everyone with a uterus has to deal with this every month? And there’s nothing you can do to make it better?”

“There’s birth control, but that comes with its own set of side effects, and then there’s painkillers, but those are hit or miss.”

“So… basically, nothing?”

“Basically nothing. And the best part is, it lasts forever.”

“Forever.”

“Forever?” His eyes go wide, lips forming an O, and you shake your head, laughing.

“Kidding. Not forever. You’ve got premenopause, then perimenopause, then-”

“Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. You pull a baking sheet from the cabinet below his feet and dump the pizza rolls onto them, sticking them into the toaster oven and grabbing the ice cream and a spoon before moving to stand between Steve’s legs. You pop a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth and hand him the spoon.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” You say with a full mouth, grinning when Steve pouts. He shakes his head, an incredulous look on his face.

“It’s bullshit. My stomach hurts, I’m craving those shitty hot dogs on a stick, and I started crying this morning because I dropped a hairbrush,” he says. You snort a laugh.

“That sounds about right,” you say.

“How do you go around not punching people in the face when you feel like this? Anybody who gets a period deserves way more credit. And a few get out of jail free cards.”

Your insides warm at the compassion in his tone, in his anger at the world for letting you - you, and half the population - hurt, his anger at the world for not doing enough - not caring enough - to find solutions. Your lips quirk up in a smile and you duck around the ice cream tub to kiss him, lips tasting of strawberries.

When you pull back, he frowns for a moment, though a smile quickly tugs his lips up.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing,” you say. “Just for…being you.”

He cracks a lopsided grin, setting the ice cream aside and looping his arms around your waist, tugging you closer.

“Another?” He asks.

“Now you’re pushing it.”

“I’m still being me,” he says, cocking a brow.

“An annoying you.”

He grins, dropping a kiss on your nose, hands skimming up your sides, tracing up your shoulders before setting on your neck, thumbs on your jaw.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “that you have to deal with this.”

“Half the population does. More, with soulmates,” you say with a shrug. Steve shakes his head.

“Still. I wish there was more I could do, or-”

“Steve.”

He stops, meeting your gaze, a crease between his brows. You take his face in your hands, lips curling up in a tiny smile.

“You’re the sweetest boy in the world, you know that?” You ask. His cheeks flush and he averts his gaze, raking a hand through his hair with a shrug.

“Steve.”

He makes a face.

“Who’s the sweetest boy in the whole world?”

He gives you a withering look, to which your smile only widens. You lean closer, thug tracing along the scar at the corner of his lip, long healed from the beating beneath Starcourt.

He wasn’t always kind or compassionate or thoughtful. Or maybe he was, but those parts of him were too far buried beneath his facade to be reached. He didn’t have the luxury of kindness, or, at the very least, didn’t think he did.

Now, though, it’s almost impossible to see that cruel boy from the high school hallways. The confidence remains, as do the snarky remarks and jokes, but that piercing cruelty no longer edges his words, and his smiles are genuine, not sharp and barbed. He may not want to admit it, but Steve Harrington is good. He’s risked his life more times than you can count for people who gave nothing in return, did it solely because it was the right thing to do.

“Come on. Who is it?” You ask. One of the perks of being official: he can’t exactly dispute your claim. He just had to accept it, begrudgingly. It’s one of your favored pastimes, making Steve Harrington blush with silly compliments.

“Me,” he says with a sigh. You grin, and the edges of his lips curl up, like your smile is infectious.

The timer for the pizza rolls dings, and Steve exhales sharply.

“Thank god,” he says, turning to tug open the glass door of the microwave oven and scrape the hot rolls onto a plate with a finger, flinching each time he holds on too long.

“That eager to get out of being complimented? Who are you?” You ask. He snorts, turning with the plate in hand and sliding off the counter.

“I’m cramping,” he says, “and so hungry I could eat a horse.”

You lift your hand, rubbing two fingers back and forth.

“Do you hear that? It’s a tiny violin-”

He rolls his eyes, a smile playing on his lips, piling the chips onto the plate and heading back to the small living room. You gather the rest of the food and follow, both curling up beneath blankets, feast laid out on the coffee table.

“We’ll hit the store tomorrow, and I’ll introduce you to the wonderful world of heating pads,” you say, handing off the ice cream tub to Steve and trading it for the chip bag.

“Can’t wait,” he says.

“But for now…” you say. He grins.

“For now, we feast.”

You laugh, leaning into his side, his arm around you, and tug the blankets up higher.

“Now, we feast.”

And though you hurt - both of you hurt - it’s manageable. It’s survivable, because Steve is beside you, because you’re not alone. Whether or not to go it solo is the crux, the place most of us screw ourselves. We get so caught up in ourselves we forget that other people are waiting outside our gates, waiting for them to be let down.

It’s not easy to open the gates. It’s one of the hardest things in the world. But once you do, once you finally throw open the curtains and fill the room with light, all the painful things struggle to find as much purchase.

If you’re with Steve, you can handle whatever comes at you, whether it be a typical period or a slavering monster. Whatever it is, you’ve got it.

Steve Taglist: @allfandomxreader @kalie-bee @sourapplebaby@iiqtpiee @queenofthehairharrington @drcwse @whitecard62 @captainelsaeverdeen @hairrington @lemonypink @ludicstilinski @harrington-ofhawkins @dezzylou24 @mightstudysoon @ultrunning @xthe-dreamerx@Bralessandflawless @pvnsie @anerroroccurrrrred @bookfrog242 @yayrainyday @snarky–starky @with-a-little-bit-of-light @mochminnie @redbullchick @izzylizzybizzy @sassisaluxuy @80strashbag @m-blasterrr @estrela-rogers

#brooke writes fic #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #stranger things

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

Text

The Witcher, The Bard and Their Guardian Angel Pt. 2/4

(Other parts on my pinned masterlist/AO3 - Geralt is still recovering from injury in this chapter and is not in the best place)

Geralt had died.

He was sure of it.

There was no way in hell that he’d survived the attack from the griffin, not without magical intervention and there had been no mages nearby. Yet he appeared to be waking up. His body felt like it had been torn apart and sewn back together the wrong way round, and was that… singing?

He drew a heavy breath and winced at the pain in his abdomen as he blinked against the light.

An elf was looking down at him with pretty blue eyes filled with concern.

“Geralt?” The man asked.

Fuck he had a beautiful voice.

Geralt frowned. The singing had stopped. Why had the singing stopped? He tried to sit up but the elf pushed him down again.

“Oh no. No, no. You stay down, witcher.” The elf insisted and Geralt obeyed.

He didn’t want to disappoint the man with the beautiful eyes and voice like a siren.

“Who…” He coughed out hoarsely.

“Jaskier. I found you on the road half dead, Geralt.” The elf squeezed Geralt’s shoulders to make sure he stayed lying down and then move back to his chair. “Mihangel, the mage who helped the healers save your sorry arse, gave me the griffin head. Honestly I’ve never seen something so disgusting in my life, but apparently you witchers need it to get paid. So, you’re welcome.”

Geralt struggled to process the elf’s words. He could hear them and he was sure they were important but he just couldn’t stop watching the man’s lips. They were chapped from where the elf had been biting them and every so often his tongue peeked out to moisten his lips. To Geralt it became the most important thing in his drug addled mind.

He did miss the singing though. It had been the voice of an angel, he was sure of it.

“M’ not dead?” Geralt slurred, the pain in his stomach was making him sick and his vision was already begin to blacken around the edges.

The elf shook his head. “No. By all rights you should have been. You’re lucky I found you, Geralt.”

“Hmm… pretty….” He heard his voice echo as his head fell back against the pillow and sleep took him once more.

_________

The next time he woke up his head was a little clearer. The pain had eased and he was able to sit up with only a little effort. He grunted as he pushed his back up against the wall. The noise woke up the brunet that was sleeping in a chair next to his bed.

The man had soft tousled brown hair and was wearing an expensive looking teal doublet that was soaked in his blood. The man must have been the one to save him. He moaned slightly as he woke up and rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Geralt?”

Oh.

Geralt knew that voice.

He had been sure it was a dream, the elven man with the cornflower blue eyes.

“Hmm.” He agreed and stared intently at the man.

The tips of his ears were covered in soft chestnut brown hair but if he’d been pure elf then his ears would still have been visible. This was no elf. His sleep hazed mind must have just noticed the man’s bone structure and beautiful eyes and jumped to conclusions.

“You look better.” The man said cheerily. “Can I?” His hands hovered over Geralt’s bandaged torso.

Geralt nodded.

“The healers said that witchers heal faster than humans but I thought you would be asleep for at least a few more days.” The brunet gently pealed back the bandages. Geralt winced slightly as he felt the fabric pull at the scabbed tissue. He glanced down at the man’s trembling fingers, noting the calloused fingertips, a bard perhaps? “That’s incredible!” The brunet gasped. “There’s barely any sign of a wound.”

Geralt saw that the man was right, all that was left of the deep gash left by the griffin’s talons was a thick scabbed line.

“Where’s my bags?” He asked, his voice croaked dryly.

The man jumped up and hurried to the other side of the room. “These were attached to the horse.”

“Roach?”

“She’s stabled and being looked after, the dwarves have been the most gracious hosts, my dear.” The man dumped the bags on the bed next to him. “What did you need?”

“Potions. One for healing. Couldn’t take it before, too toxic.” Geralt mumbled as he pulled the pack into his lap and began to search for the right bottle.

“Too toxic?! Geralt!” The man tugged at the satchel. “No!”

“Yes.” Geralt insisted. “I’m a witcher, it’s fine.”

“Geralt!” The man whined.

“It’s fine.” He growled with a final tug. “But thank you, for saving me. I owe you…” He trailed off hoping that the man would realise what he was asking.

“Oh yes. You weren’t very lucid before were you? Jaskier Pankratz at your service!” He grinned. “You called me pretty before.”

Geralt frowned. “No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did!” Jaskier insisted. “And you kept mumbling about elves and beautiful eyes, an old flame perhaps?”

“Hmm.” Geralt replied, thanking his mutations for dampening his ability to blush, otherwise he was fairly certain his face would be betraying him.

“You know, an old lover of mine once said in the throes of passion that I had the beauty of an elf.” Jaskier mused with a delicate wave of his hands. “I of course, took it as a compliment, some of the most gorgeous people in the history of the Continent have been elves.”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed.

“So do you really think I have beautiful eyes, Geralt?” Jaskier’s fingers danced across his chest as the brunet stared at him through his eyelashes with those stunning blue eyes.

Geralt wasn’t delirious enough this time to admit it. Instead he pulled the cork from the bottle using his teeth and downed half the potion. It burned his throat horrible and he almost vomited the vile concoction straight back up but he growled and forced it down.

Jaskier gasped and Geralt followed his gaze. With the additional help of the potion the left over scabbing from the talons was pealing off his skin as his flesh visibly knitted back together. It itched like hell but he just laid his head back on the pillow and gritted his teeth until the feeling passed.

“That’s amazing.” Jaskier breathed reverently.

“When you get stabbed a lot it’s necessary. Witchers would be pretty terrible monster hunters if we didn’t recover quickly.” Geralt shrugged.

The bitter taste of the potion still lingered in his mouth. Some of his other smaller cuts and bruises that hadn’t been magically healed by the mage were also now fading away, only the largest of them would scar properly. He sighed. Another mark on his skin, just another sign of his own monstrosity and another oddity for whores to ask about.

Jaskier pouted. “Oh come now! Have a little self respect. You’re fucking brilliant. I’ve always wanted to meet a witcher. You must have so many stories to tell.”

“A bard?” Geralt asked, remembering Jaskier’s calloused fingers.

“Trying to be, just graduated. Didn’t realise people were such assholes though. Doesn’t fucking matter that I was top of my class or that I have degrees in all seven of the liberal arts. Noooo,” Jaskier rolled his eyes and flailed his arms in exasperation. “No they don’t give a shit about any of that.”

“Can’t say I blame them.” Geralt sighed wearily. The potion was already slowing him down. His body lulling him back to sleep so he could recover from the fast healing and the toxicity that was bubbling in his veins. Half the potion wasn’t much and he barely felt it but his body had already been exposed to a lot between the griffin and the mage, he needed to rest.

He fucking hated it.

Jaskier must have noticed because the brunet ran a hand through Geralt’s hair gently. “Rest now. I’ll look after your belongings until you are ready to leave. You’re safe with me.”

Geralt heard a low rumble in his chest that he wasn’t conscious of making as Jaskier’s hands continued to stroke through this hair. He let his eyes droop shut.

“That’s it, witcher.” Jaskier whispered quietly as he fell back into a deep sleep.

____________

Jaskier didn’t leave Geralt’s side very often during his week at the dwarven tavern. The dwarves were incredibly hospitable. Jaskier played a couple of sets in the tavern downstairs in the evening, the dwarves were particularly fond of his bawdier compositions and his new song about the mysterious Mihangel was well received. A few elves, gnomes and other non-humans had even slipped into the back of the room whilst he was performing. Jaskier felt pride in being able to bring the different species together but he did feel sad at the notable absence of humans.

Perhaps they were simply not welcome. The tavern did seem to be a safe haven for non-humans.

“Dulmur?” Jaskier had asked the redheaded dwarf behind the bar on his second evening.

“Problem, bard?” Dulmur grunted as he wiped down some glasses.

“Forgive my curiosity,” He smiled sheepishly as he tapped out a rhythm on the bar with his fingers. “But why are there no humans here?”

Dulmur laughed heartily. “Because they don’t want to be, bard. They don’t want to mix with us and that suits us just fine. Makes the place a whole lot cheerier for us without the humans fucking it up.”

Jaskier nodded. “So you don’t mind me being here?”

The dwarf put the glass he was cleaning down with a loud clunk. “Well to be honest, we all thought you were an elf at first, all that screeching about good for nothing humans.”

Jaskier gaped at the dwarf. “I do not screech!” He screeched and then pouted. “I have to look after my voice.”

“Talking of which, we aren’t letting you stay here free of charge, bard. Play us a song!” Dulmur clapped his hands and Jaskier hopped off his bar stall to begin his set.

That was a good few days ago and Jaskier no longer felt like an outsider in the bar. He treated them kindly and listened to their tales, in return they accepted him as a friend and ally. It probably helped that he did bear some resemblance to an elf.

His mother had always insisted that he was fully human, told him that it was just his imagination running wild when he noticed the similarities. He still wasn’t convinced but time would tell. If he did have elven blood then the years would treat him more kindly than his fully human peers.

Jaskier pushed the thought from his head as he fingers brushed over the strings of his lute. He let the music take over, washing his worries about the silver haired man upstairs away. It was a lively piece and required significantly more concentration to keep the melody and the bass line together on his lute, and that was before he even began to sing. Luckily the lyrics weren’t particularly taxing, lazy rhymes and a fairly relaxed pace. The remainder of his concentration went on working the crowd, dancing around the tables, flirting with the patrons to ensure some easy coin.

He almost dropped his lute when he turned round to see Geralt by the stairs with his swords strapped to his back and bags slung over his shoulder. No one seemed to care that Jaskier’s voice gave out for a few beats or that he wrapped up the song a few verses early. Before the last notes had stopped ringing in the air he’d bounded across the room to the witcher.

“Geralt!” He wanted to hug the man but remembered that spending a week by the witcher’s bedside did not make them friends. He settled for a slightly awkward pat on Geralt’s broad shoulders. “You’re ok.”

“Thanks to you.” Geralt nodded. “What do I owe you?”

Jaskier’s heart sank.

The life debt.

That was his to pay and his alone, the mage had made that quite clear! He fiddled with his lute strap over his chest before plastering a charming smile on his face.

“Oh no! Nothing at all, my dear witcher.” He squeezed Geralt’s shoulder. “Any man would have done the same.” He lied easily, he’d seen the town’s reaction to his pleas for help, he was quite certain he was in the minority when it came to respecting witchers.

“Bollocks to that.” Geralt grunted. “You saved my life, Jaskier. What do I owe you?”

“Oh well,” Jaskier grinned, he’d hoped the witcher would ask again. “If you insist.”

“Out with it, bard.”

“Let me join you on your adventures.” He begged.

“No chance.” Geralt grunted and began to move towards the door.

“No no, hear me out!” He chased after the witcher towards the stables. “I gave that griffin’s head to the alderman!” He called after Geralt.

Geralt growled and spun round. “What?”

“Mihangel gave it to me, honestly Geralt, I almost lost my lunch. Do people really ask for the heads?” He didn’t stop talking long enough for Geralt to answer. “So I thought, I can’t exactly bring a stinking dead griffin’s head into a tavern but what else to do with it? Take it to the man who ordered the contract of course! So I did. He looked a little surprised to see me, you know on account of me not being you, or a witcher, although I think I would look rather dashing in all that armour.”

“Focus, Jaskier.” Geralt huffed as he began to saddle up his horse, Roach he’d called her.

“Yes yes!” He waved his hand dismissively. “I’m getting there, patience dear witcher. Well, I obviously don’t know how much you’d usually ask for a contract on a griffin, but I thought, you know, since you almost died and all, that the alderman was joking when he gave me fifty florens.”

“Bastard.” Geralt grumbled. “He promised me seventy five.”

“Ha!” Jaskier flung his arms out in glee. “I knew it! Luckily for you, I happen to be an excellent haggler. I told him I was there for the fight, that I saw how vicious and dangerous the beast was, that you had slain the mighty griffin only to realise that one of it’s talons had lodged inside of your chest, that you had been prepared to died to save the travellers to this delightful town. I was prepared to sing of your glory but the man coughed up a hundred florens before I had the chance.”

“A hundred?”

“That’s what I said, Geralt. Do pay attention.” He put his hand on his hips as the witcher mounted his horse. “So come on, witcher, let me come with you! I’m great with people, you need me!”

“Fine.” Geralt grumbled. “Where’s the coin?”

“I gave it to the healers and the dwarves at the tavern. Covered the room and food for whilst we were there.”

Geralt sighed. “Right, yeah. Of course.”

“Oh that reminds me! You haven’t eaten in days. Stay here, I’ll see if I can rustle up some supplies for the road.” Jaskier pinned Geralt with a firm look, not quite trusting the witcher to run off without him. “And I would like to gather up my own belongings, I do have a little more than my lute you know.”

“Hurry up.” Geralt tugged at Roach’s reins and slowly manoeuvred her from the stable. “I want to set up camp nearby.”

“Can’t we stay another night?” Jaskier pouted.

“Feel free, bard but I won’t wait for you if you decide to stay.” Geralt replied bluntly.

Jaskier took a deep breath, pulled his lute from off his back and pressed it into the witcher’s hand. “I am not letting you leave with this. I am coming back with food and supplies. Do not leave without me, witcher.”

Geralt stared down at the instrument in his hands. “I won’t.” He promised.

Taglist (sorry this was posted on AO3 last night but I was too tired to tumblr post): @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @dearest-queerest-nux @awitchersbard @genkitaco

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt whump #the witcher the bard and their guardian angel #wolfie's witcher writing

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seraph-novak · 5 years ago

Note

Not sure if you take asks for one-shots but what about the GHC + TJ, Jonah and Marty (or less) taking a trip to a haunted hotel/mansion and Tyrus being equally oblivious, clingy and scared to death. You're a talented writer and I adore your tyrus fluffs

I’m sorry this is so late! Now that school is finished for the summer, I can finally get back to writing… This fic ran away from me a bit, but I hope you like it!

As always, likes/comments/reblogs are very much appreciated! Thanks for reading ♥

~~~~~

There was something undeniably creepy about the house behind the woods. It was old, for a start. And empty. Cyrus could feel it as they approached the treeline: an eerie stillness surrounding the building. It oozed from the rotting bricks and threw a strange aura into the air, discolouring the sky that hung above it. The others could feel it too, if the sudden hush that had fallen over the group was anything to go by.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Andi asked. She was leaning against Amber’s arm with a tight, panicked expression as she stared up at the house.

At the front of the group, Buffy turned around with a slightly manic grin. “Because it’s fun!”

Cyrus frowned, genuinely perplexed by that. “I think we have very different definitions of the word ‘fun’.”

“Look.” Buffy dumped her rucksack on the ground, a cloud of dust rising like fog around her feet, and approached the group. She was in coach-mode right now, hyping up her team before a big game. “The rules are simple, okay? The couple who lasts the longest without chickening out wins.” She considered the small sea of frightened faces staring back at her and smirked. “And judging by the fear in all of your eyes, we probably won’t last more than a couple hours. So don’t worry.”

Amber scoffed. “Is that trash talk, Driscoll?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I wouldn’t get too cocky.” Amber slung an arm around Andi’s shoulders and smiled, arching a perfectly shaped eyebrow as she looked Buffy up and down. “This idea might be dumb as hell, but that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna try.”

Buffy folded her arms and snorted. “You honestly think you have a chance against me and Marty?”

“Oh, I think we have more than a chance.”

“Okay. Sure.” Buffy barked a laugh. “Good luck with that, Kippen.”

Cyrus glanced at TJ. “Well, this is gonna be a fun night.”

“Yeah.” TJ tore his eyes away from the house and swallowed thickly, giving Cyrus’ hand a brief squeeze. There was a thin sheen of sweat glittering across his forehead, probably from the hike. “This place is kinda creepy, right?”

“I was actually talking about Buffy and Amber bickering, but yeah. Creepy’s one word for it.”

TJ huffed a laugh. “Oh. Right.”

“You okay?”

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine.”

Cyrus touched his boyfriend’s arm, frowning at the shudder that trembled beneath his fingertips. TJ had gone back to staring at the house, and his eyes were wide and watery. But Cyrus didn’t question it. After two years of dating, he could read TJ like an open book, and now was not the time to push him.

“What about me?” Jonah asked from the back of the group, completely dwarfed by the large rucksack mounted on his back. “I’m the only single one here.”

Andi grabbed his arm and yanked him towards her and Amber. “You can go with us!”

“Is that allowed?”

“I don’t care,” Buffy said with a shrug. “It only makes your odds of losing higher.”

Amber patted Jonah fondly on the cheek. “Jonah’s not gonna bail on us. If he can survive teaming up with two of his exes, he can handle a haunted house.”

“Wait,” Cyrus squeaked. “Both of us have to stay to win?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Well, duh.”

“Oh, no…”

“Don’t worry about it, Underdog,” TJ murmured softly. He lifted their joined hands to his lips and kissed the knobbly bumps of Cyrus’ knuckles. “I’ll protect you.”

“Sure,” Amber coughed into her fist, feigning a cheery smile of innocence in response to TJ’s cautionary glare.

“TJ’s right,” Buffy said, fixing Cyrus with a mocking smile as she wrapped an arm around Marty’s waist. “There’s no point in worrying about it, because none of you have a chance at winning. You might as well accept defeat and go home now. Right, babe?”

Marty lifted his fist, and Buffy bumped it with a wicked grin. “We’re gonna own these suckers.”

After a few more rounds of repartee, they gathered their things and broke through the trees, the house standing tall and proud without the veil of leaves cloaking its presence from the outside world. The stone steps leading up to the porch were caked in cobwebs, and there was a single band of sun-faded police tape stretched across the front door. Probably to keep out trespassers.

“Well,” Cyrus said, his stomach twisting unpleasantly, “isn’t that inviting.”

Buffy flapped a dismissive hand in the air. “It’ll be fine.”

“People come here all the time,” Marty concurred.

“But, the police –”

“Are you forfeiting already?”

“Um…”

Andi placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and smiled. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna do this, Cy. No one’s forcing you to.”

All it took was one glance at Amber and Buffy’s smug faces for him to make up his mind. If he backed out now, he’d never hear the end of it, and he was determined to prove them wrong. Plus, he couldn’t stand the thought of letting TJ down like that, even though he was fairly certain his boyfriend wouldn’t hold it against him.

“Okay,” he said, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m in.”

The door fell open with the slightest touch of Buffy’s hand. Inside the decaying hallway, shadows shrank away from the sunlight as it spilled inside, splashing the walls and lapping into the dank and distant corners. Specks of dust floated like stars in a beam of light that gushed from a hole in the roof, reaching through the cracks in the floors and scorching the crumbling planks of wood beneath their feet. At the end of the hallway, a regal flight of stairs ascended into the shadows, disappearing behind a wall of curling, floral paper muddied with patches of damp. There was a strange, sorrowful scent hanging in the air. Muted, but definitely noticeable. It gave Cyrus the creeps.

“Wow,” Buffy breathed, dropping her rucksack to the floor. With a stunned smile, she reached out her arms and tilted her face towards the exposed sunlight dripping from the ceiling. “Isn’t this place amazing?”

TJ scratched the back of his neck. “Do you want my honest opinion, or…?”

“There’s no internet,” Amber pointed out with a grimace as she tapped impatiently at her phone.

“It’s very big,” Andi acknowledged.

“Yeah,” Cyrus agreed, gulping as he glanced around. There were only two rooms on the ground floor, one on either side of the staircase, and the hole in the ceiling appeared to journey through half a dozen floors before reaching the sky.

Buffy shrugged. “The more room the better, right?”

“I guess.”

They spread out their things in the room to the right, next to an ancient fireplace stuffed with hunks of festering wood and stone-grey ashes. It was already growing dark outside, the dust-speckled sunlight dwindling as the murky shadows of dusk pressed against the windows. With nothing else to do, they crawled into their sleeping bags and turned on their torches, casting stark shadows across their trembling faces.

“What do we do now?” Jonah asked, his teeth chattering at the sudden drop in temperature.

Buffy leaned back on her elbows and smirked. “Now we wait for the haunting to start.”

~~~~~

For the next hour or so, they entertained themselves with cheesy ghost stories and plenty of snacks, and Cyrus was surprised to find himself having fun. While Marty tried to scare the group with his laughable Freddy Krueger impression, Cyrus snuggled against TJ’s shoulder with a contented sigh. He could feel his eyes drifting closed when he suddenly realised how tense his boyfriend felt beneath his cheek.

“TJ?” he asked, keeping his voice as soft as possible. “Are you okay?”

TJ nodded. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

Cyrus blinked at the unexpected pet name. When TJ was being affectionate, he always called him Underdog. That was their thing. He only ever used words like ‘babe’ or ‘hon’ or ‘sweetheart’ when he felt guilty. Usually when he was hiding something from him.

“Talk to me, Teej.” He threaded their fingers together and held TJ’s clammy hand against his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s probably thinking about the Hanging Lady,” Amber said, a devious smile twisting her lips.

Cyrus frowned. “Who?”

“It’s nothing,” TJ said through gritted teeth. “Just a stupid story from when we were kids.”

Buffy clapped her hands together. “Ooh, tell us the story!”

“No way –”

“You really wanna hear it?” Amber asked, deliberately ignoring her brother. Her eyes were shining as she stood up and moved to the centre of the group, grinning like a fame-hungry actress bowing in front of a crowd. “Okay, fine.”

TJ groaned.

“In our old house, before we moved to Shadyside, there was a hot water tank in the loft that made this horrible creaking sound at 3:15 every night. TJ was, like, five at the time, so he still peed the bed –”

“Not true!”

“– and I was seven, so I loved to mess around with him. The tank was right above his bedroom, so you could hear it the loudest in there, and it really freaked him out.”

Buffy sneered. “Why?”

“Well,” Amber continued, her lips twitching with a smirk, “I told him an old lady had hung herself in the loft years ago, at exactly 3:15, and you could still hear the creaking of the rope swinging back and forth in the middle of the night.”

“You were seven when you made that up?” Buffy asked, sounding impressed. “Not bad, Kippen.”

“I know.”

“That’s sick,” Jonah said, but Cyrus could see him fighting back a smile. “I bet that really scared him, huh?”

Amber laughed. “Oh, yeah. He used to cry himself to sleep. It was hilarious.”

Cyrus wrinkled his nose. “That doesn’t sound hilarious.”

“Calm down.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “You’re just sticking up for your boyfriend.”

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s okay,” TJ told him, a shamed blush creeping up his neck. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.”

“But –”

“Are you still scared of the Hanging Lady?” Amber asked as she crept across the room, a creaking noise rising from the back of her throat as she crouched in front of her brother. “Can you hear that? She’s coming for you, TJ. The Hanging Lady knows you’re here.”

TJ pressed his lips into a thin line. “I haven’t been scared of that story since we moved house.”

“It doesn’t matter where you go,” Amber continued. There was a cruel gleam in her eyes now, reminiscent of the old, spiteful version of the girl Amber had worked so hard to shed over the years. It was unnerving. “Ghosts latch onto people, you know? They follow you through your life, watching you grow old, waiting for the perfect moment to strike…”

As if on cue, a sudden gust of wind knocked against the house, rattling the old wood of the front door with a sickening creak. TJ yelped, and Cyrus felt the solid warmth of his hand jerk out of his grip, slicing an arc through the air as he tumbled backwards and slammed his head against the floor.

“TJ!”

“I’m okay,” his boyfriend groaned in response, blindly reaching for Cyrus’ proffered hand as the rest of the group burst into fits of uncontrollable giggles.

With his arm looped protectively around TJ’s waist, Cyrus shot the rest of the group a venomous glare. “What is wrong with you?”

“C’mon, Cy!” Buffy wheezed, her cheeks glistening with tears of laughter. “You have to admit, that was pretty funny.”

“It really wasn’t.”

“We’re just tryna have some fun,” Amber insisted, her tone surprisingly gentle. She was smiling just as widely as the rest of them, but her eyes had stopped glimmering, and Cyrus could swear he saw a flicker of guilt cross her face as she glanced over at her brother. “It was just a joke, TJ.”

Cyrus scoffed. “He could’ve really hurt himself.”

“How was I supposed to know he was gonna flip out like that?”

“You shouldn’t be ganging up on him in the first place!”

“Well, he shouldn’t make it so easy then.”

“Screw you,” TJ spat at his sister, the hardness in his voice crushing the final titters from the group into silence. There was an angry blush creeping up his neck, and the muscles in his jaw were twitching in time with his rapidly blinking eyes. Cyrus felt him trembling in his arms as he struggled to his feet, sweeping a fierce gaze across his so-called friends before shrugging out of Cyrus’ grip and storming into the next room.

Cyrus watched him leave, then sighed. “Well done, guys. I hope you’re pleased with yourselves.”

“It’s just a game, Cy –”

“A game that’s turning you all into a bunch of jerks,” he interjected, his cheeks flaming with heat as the unfamiliar insult fizzled on his tongue, tasting like one of those sour sweets you can’t bear to swallow too quickly. He hated conflict, especially when it involved the people he cared about, but some things couldn’t go unsaid. “You knew he was getting upset, and you kept pushing him. That doesn’t sound like a game to me.”

Amber lowered her head, a curtain of blonde waves falling across her face. When she looked up again, her fair skin was glowing faintly in the shaft of white light protruding from the torch in her trembling hands. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” she said, quiet and earnest. “Can you tell him I’m sorry?”

“Do it yourself.”

And with that, he got to his feet and walked away, following his boyfriend into the other doorless room painted an ugly, yellowing white. TJ was standing at the very back of the room, his forehead pressed against the chipped wood of an old dumbwaiter. He was shaking all over, and Cyrus’ heart pinched at the sight. All he wanted to do was rush across the room and throw his arms around him, but he knew it was best to take things slow. TJ was like a wild animal when he was hurt and embarrassed, easy to startle and quick to run away. So instead, he approached him calmly, letting TJ know he was there before putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said softly.

TJ turned away. “I’m sorry, Cyrus.”

“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything wrong!”

“I overreacted.”

“You were scared.”

“I know.” TJ rubbed his face against his shoulder, drying his eyes as discreetly as possible. “I’m such a coward… I mean, what kind of seventeen-year-old is still scared of stupid ghost stories?”

Cyrus chuckled. “Um. Me?”

“But I’m supposed to be the brave one!”

“You’re not supposed to be anything other than who you are.”

TJ glanced up at him, his eyes underlined by dark lines. He looked exhausted. “I told you I’d protect you.”

“You still can.”

“You really believe that now?”

“I believe one thing,” he said, gently cupping TJ’s chin and tilting his face towards him. As soon as he had his boyfriend’s full attention, he kissed him sweetly on the lips and took him by the hands. His palms were slightly greasy from the thick layer of grime clinging to the wooden lip of the dumbwaiter, but Cyrus didn’t care. “You love me, right?”

TJ nodded, wide-eyed. “More than anything.”

“Good.” Cyrus smiled. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the matter-of-fact way TJ told him he loved him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And I love you. That much we know for certain, okay?”

“Yeah,” TJ concurred, his tears thankfully starting to cease.

“So, if a ghost suddenly flew through this wall and tried to hurt me…”

“I’d kill it with my bare hands.”

Cyrus grinned. “Exactly.”

A tentative smile appeared on TJ’s face, instantly outshining the sticky sheen of tears drying dully beneath his eyes. “Are you saying my love for you is more powerful than an actual spirit, Underdog?”

“I’m saying there’s no one else I feel safer with than you.” As if to emphasise his point, he drew TJ closer, the toes of their shoes kissing shyly in the murky shadows swimming around their feet. It wasn’t exactly the most romantic setting, but that didn’t stop his heart from stuttering as he stared into TJ’s eyes, impossibly green and desperately tender as always.

“You really mean that?” TJ asked.

Cyrus bumped their shoulders together, a teasing smile dancing on his lips. “There aren’t many guys who would kill a ghost with their bare hands for me, are there?”

“I think you’d be surprised… I’m sure there’d be people lining up to protect you.”

“Yeah, well.” Cyrus shrugged, gave TJ’s hand a slow, meaningful squeeze. “There’s only one person I want in my corner, and he’s standing right in front of me.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

When TJ ducked his head, Cyrus could see the beginnings of a blush creeping up the back of his neck. He watched fondly as his boyfriend directed a bashful smile at the carpet of dust beneath his feet, then glanced back up at him with a dazzling grin that sucked the air out of his lungs, leaving him breathless and dizzy for a moment.

“You don’t mind having a wuss for a boyfriend?”

Cyrus pretended to consider the question, then smiled, leaning forward to press a featherlight kiss to TJ’s muck-smeared forehead. He plucked a sprinkling of rust from his dirty blond waves and gave his ruddy cheeks a playful pinch. “Only if you don’t.”

“I guess we’re okay then.”

“Yeah,” Cyrus said, his smile turning even fonder. “We’re okay.”

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed between them, the damp odours and slithering shadows of the old house fading away as they held each other close. Cyrus dried TJ’s eyes with the sleeve of his jacket while TJ wiped his grimy hands on the backs of his jeans, grimacing at the dirt still crusted beneath his fingernails. Once he was relatively muck- and tear-free, TJ’s eyes followed the muffled sound of laughter in the next room, his throat bobbing nervously. Cyrus guided his attention back to his face with a gentle smile.

“We don’t have to stay,” he told him. “If you’re not having fun, we can leave right now.”

TJ shook his head. “Nah. I’m good, I just… They’re all gonna look at me funny.”

“No, they won’t.”

“I made a scene, Cyrus. I gave them exactly what they wanted.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, Amber looked kinda guilty after you left. She asked me to tell you she’s sorry.”

“Right.” TJ rolled his eyes. He was anxiously rolling his left thumb and forefinger together, his other hand holding onto Cyrus for dear life. “I know it’s in her nature to show off. Buffy’s too. But still… I wish we could even the score, you know? Give them a taste of their own medicine.”

Cyrus paused, his thumb freezing mid-sweep across TJ’s knuckles. The outlines of a plan were taking shape in his mind, an impish smile slowly spreading across his face. He patted his back pocket, making sure his phone was still there, then turned to the dumbwaiter buried in the wall to his right. Its sliding door was nibbled with mould and crawling with dirt, but it seemed sturdy enough. And when Cyrus lifted it up (his fingers twisted in his sleeve to keep them from touching the slimy surface of the embedded handle), it easily clicked into place, revealing a gaping mouth stacked with three wooden shelves, and a fraying rope threaded through the middle.

“Don’t worry,” he said, turning to TJ with a mischievous grin. “I have an idea.”

~~~~~

When they finally returned to the group, they were met with awkward smiles and mumbled apologies, but nothing considerable enough to put a stop to their plan. Even if they’d all fallen to their knees and begged for TJ’s forgiveness, Cyrus probably would’ve stuck to it anyway. He was tired of TJ walking on eggshells around his friends, and he was tired of constantly playing the meek and submissive role in the group. If Buffy and Amber wanted to have some real fun, then that’s exactly what they were going to get.

“Have you calmed down now?” Buffy asked TJ, the mocking lilt of her voice adding more fuel to the fire burning inside Cyrus’ gut.

TJ flashed her a fake smile. “Yeah. Thanks for asking.”

“Maybe you should worry about your own boyfriend,” Cyrus said, nodding at Marty. “He’s looking a little peaky.”

Marty sat up straighter and forced his drooping eyelids open. “Huh? Oh, no… I’m just a little tired. And cold. And, um… Hungry?”

“Suck it up!” Buffy cried, giving her boyfriend’s shoulder a firm shake.

As Buffy and Marty exploded into a bickering match, TJ turned his body towards Cyrus, effectively cutting them both off from the rest of the group, and rested his forehead on Cyrus’ shoulder. His voice was hushed when he spoke, too soft for anyone else to hear above the shrill sound of Buffy throwing insults at her boyfriend; if it weren’t for the adoring smile on Marty’s face, Cyrus would probably feel sorry for the guy.

“You don’t have to stick up for me, you know,” TJ said, affectionately rubbing his nose against the base of Cyrus’ throat. “I mean, it’s adorable, but… You don’t need to do that.”

Cyrus gave his ear a gentle flick. “Stop it, Teej. You know I’m never gonna stop sticking up for you.”

TJ responded with a kiss, his palm grazing the back of Cyrus’ neck and his thumb stroking the jut of his jawbone. When they pulled away, there was a familiar, dreamy expression lidding TJ’s eyes and softly dimpling his cheeks, and Cyrus could feel the popping of fireworks deep inside his chest, showering his heart with bursts of colour that made the dark and dusty room seem a little bit brighter, if only for a few seconds.

“I love you,” TJ murmured.

A golden peony erupted in the sky. “I love you, too.”

“Hey, love-birds,” Buffy called over to them, leaning forward to pat the empty space they’d left in the circle. “Care to join us?”

“Sure.”

Before Cyrus could shuffle back towards the group, TJ took him gently by the arm and lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “So, when are we gonna do this thing?”

“Buffy told us to wait for the haunting to start,” he said simply, lifting his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug that completely contradicted the devious twinkle in his eyes. “So, that’s what we’re gonna do. We’ll wait until their defences are down, and then we’ll give them the scare they’ve been waiting for.”

TJ blinked at him in surprise. “Who are you and what have you done with my sweet and innocent boyfriend?”

“I think you secretly like it.”

“Well, you could literally spit in my face, and I’d still find you adorable, so…”

Cyrus scrunched up his nose and laughed. ”You’re disgusting.”

“I guess you don’t wanna share a sleeping bag with me then?”

“I never –”

“Hey, it’s okay! I guess I’ll just have to cuddle by myself.”

“That’s not even possible, Teej.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Just shut up and get in the sleeping bag,” Cyrus said, giving his boyfriend a gentle shove as he squeezed in beside him, a pleasant shiver rolling down his spine as the warmth of TJ’s body thawed the chill in his bones. And as the rest of the group slowly but surely fell asleep, Cyrus closed his eyes and pretended to snore, quietly waiting for the perfect time to exact their revenge…

~~~~~

It was the whispers that woke them up. One by one, they rubbed their eyes and lifted their heads, still groggy with sleep, and glanced at the same spot on the ceiling, where the noise seemed to be slipping through a spider-shaped crack in the crumbling plaster.

“What is that?” Buffy asked, sounding more annoyed than frightened.

Jonah swallowed thickly. “It… I-It sounds like a voice.”

“Huh?”

“A voice,” Andi agreed, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as she jerked her head up and down. She was clinging onto Amber’s arm so tightly that Cyrus could see the white bands of her fingers glowing against Amber’s skin. “Do you think somebody’s here?”

“No,” Amber said, wrapping a protective arm around her girlfriend all the same. “We would’ve heard them before. Right, guys?”

They all mumbled in agreement, but it did nothing to quell the whispers. In fact, they seemed to be getting louder, more pronounced, as if someone was trying to tell them something…

“Oh my god,” TJ breathed. He was staring at his phone, and looking convincingly terrified, which made Cyrus feel weirdly proud. He even felt a pinch of fear when TJ raised his head and sucked in a shuddering breath. “It’s 3:15.”

“What?” Amber squeaked.

All at once, the rest of the group started checking their phones, the blood draining from each of their faces as they saw the same time staring back at them.

“The Hanging Lady,” Jonah muttered, voicing what they’d likely all been thinking.

Marty snorted a weak laugh. ��No, that’s… That’s just a stupid story. Amber told us she made it up.”

“Exactly,” Buffy said. Now that she was fully awake, her annoyance had shifted into wariness, but not absolute fear. Cyrus had predicted she’d need a little extra push.

As if on cue, the indecipherable whispers took the form of real, solid words – names, to be exact. They were distant and muffled, but definitely there, and Cyrus could see the exact moment on Jonah’s face when he decided that enough was enough.

“Nope!” Jonah sprung to his feet and raced for the door. “Sorry, guys, but I’m out.”

Andi was close behind him, followed by a slightly disgruntled- (but mainly petrified-) looking Amber clutching tightly onto Andi’s hand, the pair of them flicking panicked glances around the room as they hurried to join Jonah outside. From the doorless gap in the wall, Cyrus could see them shivering on the stone steps. They were staring up at the twisting staircase at the end of the hallway, where the whispers could be heard even more clearly, and holding onto each other with shared expressions of pure terror.

“What’s going on?” Andi moaned.

Buffy poked her head into the hallway, clearly masking her own fear with a boastful smirk. “You’ve lost, that’s what’s going on.”

“Hey, babe?” Marty placed a hand on Buffy’s shoulder as he followed Andi’s wide-eyed gaze up the stairs. He tilted his head to the side, his ears perked up, and listened closely as the whispered words rolled steadily down the stairs, like ghostly footsteps. “I think maybe we should leave…”

For a split second, there was a crack in Buffy’s stubbornly brave façade, as if Marty’s fear had suddenly made the whole thing seem more real to her, but she quickly patched it up with a scoff. “Are you insane? You wanna forfeit the game? No way!”

“Buffy –”

“It’s probably just the wind!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “Old buildings always make weird noises.”

“Do they talk, too?”

“No one is talking, Marty! You’re hearing things. We’re all hearing things.” Buffy breathed deeply through her nose, as if trying to calm herself down, then sauntered into the hallway, shrugging off Marty’s desperate grip on her shoulder. With her back to the staircase, she placed her hands on her hips and waited. “See? There’s nothing –”

“Buffy!”

The whispers were verging on screams now. Raspy, ghoulish-sounding screams that kept calling Buffy’s name over and over again, their pleas turning sharp with impatience as Buffy stood at the bottom of the staircase, frozen still with shock.

“Marty,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut as more whispers pierced the shadowed hallway. “Please tell me this is some kind of joke.”

Before Marty could answer, another scream tumbled down the stairs and knocked Buffy forward, effectively shattering her hard exterior into a million, irreparable pieces.

“Buffy! Buffy! Buffy! Buffy –”

“Let’s get out of here!” Buffy cried, grabbing Marty by the arm and dragging him towards the exit.

Cyrus and TJ watched gleefully as they made a break for the front door, almost knocking Jonah down the stone steps in their haste to get out of the house. The moment they were outside, clutching their knees and gasping for breath, TJ fished his phone out of his pocket and silenced the voices with the press of a button.

“That turned out better than I expected,” Cyrus grinned, giving TJ a triumphant high-five as the rest of the group gawped at them from the doorway, their mouths hanging open.

Buffy frowned. “What –”

“What’s going on?” TJ completed her question with the quirk of an eyebrow. “We just won the game, that’s what’s going on.”

“But… But…”

“You messed with my boyfriend,” Cyrus explained, his eyes lingering on Amber and Buffy as he said this, “so I decided to mess with you.”

Jonah took a hesitant step towards the house. “You mean, this was all you?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” He blinked a few times in obvious confusion, then graced them with a smile of relief as he stepped back inside the hallway. “That was pretty cool, dude.”

Andi laughed nervously. “But, how?”

“We found an old dumbwaiter in the next room,” Cyrus told them, oddly enjoying the rare attention the entire group were giving him right now. “We recorded the voices on my phone and set it as my ringtone, then put my phone in the dumbwaiter and sent it up a couple floors.” He flicked a knowing smirk at TJ. “Then TJ rang my phone when you were all asleep.”

“At 3:15?” Amber asked, sounding unimpressed.

TJ shrugged. “It was just a lucky coincidence.”

“Sure.”

“How did we not hear you recording the voices?” Buffy interjected. She was a little pink in the cheeks, either from her sprint across the hallway, or the humiliation of defeat slowly sinking in.

Cyrus mirrored TJ’s shrug, feigning innocence as he looked Buffy straight in the eye and said, “Maybe you couldn’t hear us over the sounds of you laughing at TJ’s expense?”

For a brief moment, Buffy’s cheeks flared even brighter, her eyes softening slightly as she glanced over at TJ. “Oh. Right.”

“I’m sorry for laughing,” Jonah was the first to say. He walked across the hallway and offered his hand to TJ, giving it a firm, brotherly shake. “That trick was awesome, guys. How the hell did you pull it off?”

TJ tapped his temple with his forefinger and winked. “It’s not about being brave, it’s about being smart.”

“Well, you were definitely smart,” Andi said, still looking a little bit shaken up, despite her tentative smile. She gave Cyrus a quick, one-armed hug, then shook her head at TJ. “You almost gave me a heart attack, you know?”

“Sorry,” Cyrus chuckled.

Amber heaved a heavy sigh as she joined Andi in the hallway. “I’ve gotta admit, that was pretty good… Even though you stole my bit,” she added, punching TJ in the arm.

“That’s what you get for sharing the story with all our friends.”

“Touché.”

On the opposite end of the hallway, still standing in the doorway with an expression almost as cold and grey as the stone steps she was standing on, Buffy folded her arms and lifted her eyebrows as high as her hairline. “You know that’s cheating, right?”

Marty touched her arm. “Babe –”

“I never said you were allowed to use your phones like that.”

Cyrus considered this, then shrugged once again. “Well, you never said we couldn’t either, so…”

For a quiet and seemingly endless moment, Buffy simply glared at him from across the hallway, her face twisted with a scowl as she drummed her fingers against her arm, silently judging him from afar. But then, after a beat of pregnant silence, her lips twitched with an uncontrollable smile, and Cyrus knew she’d already forgiven them.

“Okay,” she sighed, dropping her arms to her sides in surrender as she strolled across the hallway. “You got me.”

TJ grinned. “Are you admitting you lost, Driscoll?”

“Don’t push it.”

“We’re gracious losers,” Marty said, now standing behind Buffy with his arm draped around her shoulders. “Right, babe?”

Buffy plastered on a smile. “Absolutely.”

“She’s dying inside,” Amber said with a snort.

“Definitely,” Andi giggled.

Before another argument could break out, Jonah stepped between them, hands raised in a placating manner, and gave them all a soothing (if not slightly desperate) smile. “Okay, okay… Now that Cyrus and TJ have won, can we please get out of here?”

Amber nodded in eager agreement. “Yes! That sounds like a good idea.”

“You’re just having Instapic withdrawals,” Andi said fondly.

“So what if I am?”

Andi appeased her girlfriend with a kiss on the cheek, then turned to the rest of the group. “Who’s up for leaving?”

Everyone’s hands shot into the air.

“Oh, thank god.”

As he watched his friends collecting their things from the other room, each of them smiling and laughing in ways that made his heart soar with a dizzying sense of contentment, Cyrus found TJ’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Even with the shadows creeping across the splintered floorboards, and the dim wash of moonlight casting an eerie glow across their faces, Cyrus didn’t feel an ounce of fear as he stood there in that rickety old house, holding onto his boyfriend’s hand with an easy, gratified smile.

“Would you come with me to get my phone?” he asked.

TJ pulled him closer, already dialling Cyrus’ number to help lead the way. “Still scared?”

“No, I just… I think I’d like the company.”

And with that, they made their way up the creaking staircase, hand in hand, and followed the sounds of the whispers.

#tyrus #andi mack #tyrus fics

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pikapeppa · 6 years ago

Text

Fenris/f!Hawke fluffy smut: Home

Inspired by the hilarious fact that Merrill makes the same comments when she’s in Fenris’s house as she does Darktown and other yucky places. In other words, Fenris lives like a disgusting bachelor in that squatter’s den of his, and I love him.

For @dadrunkwriting Friday. NSFW smut. Read on AO3 instead: tinyurl.com/fenhawke15

***********

Hawke stepped through the door to Fenris’s bedroom. “Hello, handsome,” she chirped, then began to tip-toe a convoluted path across the floor.

Fenris glanced up from his book. He watched with growing amusement as she hopped over a broken jug, then skirted her way around a large splatter of mud before almost tripping over a dusty pile of parchment topped with a rusted gauntlet.

“Hawke, what are you doing?” he said flatly.

She finally teetered over to his bed, then hopped onto the mattress with a sigh of relief. “I just bathed before I came,” she explained. “I didn’t want to get my feet dirty on your disgusting floor.” She grinned teasingly at him as she stretched out on the bed.

He grunted. “No one is stopping you from keeping your boots on until you reach the bed. You sound like Merrill,” he complained, then adopted a high-pitched simpering voice. “‘I think I stepped in something.’”

Hawke gaped at him. “Andraste’s flaming knickers. Was that an impression of Merrill?”

Fenris scowled and lifted his book. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Hawke threw her head back and cackled raucously. “You never do impressions! I must be a bad influence on you.”

“Even more unfortunately, yes,” he said. He set his book aside and pinched her waist.

She squealed and batted at his hands, but Fenris continued to creep his fingers across her ribs and waist until she was breathless with laughter. “Stop, stop!” she cried. “I take it back, I have no complaints! Your floor is wonderful and lovely and not at all absolutely fucking filthy.”

Fenris stopped tickling her, then lounged on his back again and tucked one arm behind his head. “Good. I will gladly accept the lack of complaints.”

She continued to wheeze with residual giggles as she snuggled up to his side, and Fenris dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Then he sighed. “You aren’t wrong. This mansion is disgusting.”

She chuckled softly and slid her arm around his waist. “You could clean it, you know. I could give Orana a bonus to come round and give you a hand.”

“That will not be necessary,” he murmured. “It’s been filthy for years. It serves its purpose without being clean.”

Hawke huffed in amusement. “You’re a strange man, Fenris. Clinging to your bachelor ways, I suppose.”

He smirked slightly, but didn’t reply. In truth, Fenris had considered cleaning the mansion many a time, but he could never quite bring himself to do it. Every time he thought about wiping the shelves or cleaning the floors, all he could remember was that this was the former house of a Tevinter merchant, and a former haven where Danarius had taken refuge. The thought of cleaning a house where Danarius had once resided, even if only briefly…

Never, he thought viciously, as he always did. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, then exhaled and enjoyed the feel of Hawke’s body pressed against his side.

A moment later, Hawke spoke again. “There’s another solution. You could just move in with me.”

Fenris opened his eyes to find her looking hopefully up at him. Before he could speak, she propped herself up on one elbow. “Hear me out. We spend every night together anyway, so why not just make it official? My mansion is more than big enough for another person. And it feels empty anyway whenever you’re not there. There’s lots of room for your weapons, we can get rid of that statue over the fireplace that you hate, get a new ugly statue instead…”

She was babbling. Fenris watched affectionately as her cheeks started turning pink. “I know it’ll be a hardship to move out of this charming dump,” she teased. “You’re attached to it, I understand, but-”

He stroked her arm soothingly. “I’m not,” he corrected. “I have no particular fondness for this place.” Indeed, this squatter’s mansion had always just been a place to sleep and store his gear. The Tevinter taint of this house had prevented him from ever really feeling at home here.

Hawke perked up. “So if you don’t care about this place, move in with me! Let’s do it now! It won’t take more than a couple of trips to bring your things over. Sandal will be delighted, he can start enchanting all your stuff. He’s enchanted most of mine already.” She pushed herself upright and slid her legs over the edge of the bed, as though she was actually preparing to move his things right now in the dead of night.

He sat up and grabbed her arm. “Hawke, wait. I… I don’t want it to be like this.”

She frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair. He’d known this moment was coming; she’d been dropping little hints here and there for a couple of weeks that she wanted him to move in. Some of his belongings had already begun their migration to her mansion, small things like comfy clothes and books and a comb, and it only made sense that Fenris himself would follow.

And of course he wanted to live with Hawke. It was inevitable that they would live together eventually. But despite how comfortable he felt in Hawke’s mansion, the fact remained that it was her home. She’d happily taken in Bodahn and Sandal and Orana already, and Fenris didn’t want to be yet another person living in her house that she needed to support.

“Your mansion… It is your mansion,” he said.

She raised one eyebrow and smirked. “Yes,” she drawled. “That is a fact.”

He pursed his lips, then continued to explain. “Before I came here, my life was spent living in someone else’s home. As a slave, I never…” He trailed off, then looked away. “Danarius’s home was never my home,” he said gruffly. “I lived under his roof. I ate and I slept at his whim, and he never let me forget it, even while he gloated that he would never let me leave.” Fenris breathed deeply to quell his anger before lifting his eyes to Hawke’s face again. “I won’t feel that way again. I can’t.”

“But it won’t be like that!” she said. She slid closer to him and stroked his thigh, her face creased with concern. “You won’t feel that way in my - in the mansion. You’ll be living with me, not under me. Well, I mean, you’ll be under me half the time, if you know what I mean.” She wiggled her eyebrows and smirked. “But it won’t be like-”

“I know,” Fenris interrupted. “I know it’s not the same. I just…” He took a deep breath, then finally said what he really wanted to say - and what he’d been thinking about for months, ever since they’d gotten back together.

He took her hands. “Hawke, I don’t want to live in your house. I want… I want to live in our house. I want something that we’ve bought together. I want to build a home together with you.”

A brilliant smile lifted her lips, and Fenris’s heart thumped with hope at the sheer joy in her face. She ducked her head bashfully before lifting her face and pushing her bangs back. “I hope you don’t mean literally,” she quipped. “Because I’ve got all the construction skills of a baby nug.”

Fenris gave her a chiding look. “You know what I mean.” He tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear. “I want to live with you,” he said softly. “Kaffas, Hawke, I want… I want that very much. But… I want to buy a home with you.” He swallowed hard; now this was the truly difficult part. “Hawke, would you… would you be willing to give up the Amell estate to move somewhere new with me? If you need time to think about it, I-”

“Of course,” she blurted. She straddled his lap and slid her arms around his neck. “Of course I will.”

Fenris’s regarded her with surprise. He’d expected at least a little resistance. “Just like that? I thought…”

Hawke shook her head. “It was my mother who wanted the estate,” she said. “I bought it for her. Restore the Amell name and all that. But I never cared about it, not really. I’m a Hawke,” she said simply. “I’m Rynne Hawke, not Rynne Amell. I don’t need that house to tell me who I am. Besides, it’s so bloody big. Gamlen is welcome to it if he wants. You and I can get something smaller. Sandal and Bodahn are leaving me soon enough anyway, so we won’t need as much room.”

Fenris frowned, distracted by this surprising news. She hadn’t told him that Bodahn and Sandal were leaving. “What? Why?”

“They got a better offer, working for Empress Celene or something,” Hawke said vaguely. “Can you imagine wanting to work for the most powerful woman in Orlais instead of little old me?” She smirked, but her eyes were downcast.

Fenris stroked her back. He knew that Bodahn and Sandal had never been just the household help to her. “I’m sorry, Hawke.”

She shrugged, then lifted her eyes back to his face. “Well, where one dwarf closes a door, a handsome broody elf opens a window. That’s a thing they say, right?”

He studied her smile and the sadness in her eyes. “Not that I have ever heard,” he said softly. “It sounds like the set-up for a poor joke. You should pass it on to Varric.”

She smiled more broadly, and Fenris was glad when the sadness waned from her face. “I will,” she said, then she tucked her head cozily against his neck and tucked her fists under her chin. “So, when can we start looking for a new house?”

He wrapped his arms more securely around her. “I need some time to gather coin,” he admitted. “A few more months, perhaps.” He’d continued doing mercenary and delivery jobs in his spare time and he’d sold most of his finest weapons, but much of his savings had been wasted on Varania.

“All right,” she murmured. “I can wait. You’re worth it, I suppose.” She poked him playfully in the belly.

He grunted, then squeezed her hard until she squeaked in amusement. They sat in a bubble of warm contentment for a while, her eyelashes fluttering against his neck with her every blink and her body warm in his embrace.

Then Fenris spoke again, unable to quash his lingering concerns. “You are certain you don’t mind giving up your mansion? It seems a big sacrifice.”

Hawke leaned away to look at him, and her face was serious as she stroked his chin. “I don’t care about the estate,” she said firmly. “Believe me, Fenris. I don’t care. Some things are more important than a big old house.”

He gazed into her brilliant bronze eyes, his heart swelling with gratitude and warmth and love - so much love, it felt like his ribs couldn’t contain it. He cupped her neck in his lyrium-lined hands and pressed his forehead to hers. “Hawke,” he rasped. “If I had a mansion to give you, I would. I… I would give you everything.”

She shook her head slightly. “You already have, you handsome fool. Don’t you know that by now?”

He closed his stinging eyes, breathing in the scent of her freshly-soaped skin as she stroked his neck with her thumbs. Then he tilted his head and kissed her.

Hawke slid her fingers into his hair as she returned his kiss, and Fenris clasped her close, grateful for her precious warmth and weight against his body. Her lips pulled gently at his own, nipping delicately at his lower lip, then her mouth trailed across his jaw to the base of his ear.

She gently licked his neck. A shiver of heat sparked to life in his belly, and Fenris inhaled and lifted his hips. Hawke’s fingers slipped beneath his shirt, her fingers trailing up his abs as her tongue trailed along the tendon in his neck, and moments later his tunic was on the floor, accompanied by Hawke’s loose linen tank top.

She dropped her mouth to his neck again, nipping lightly along the lyrium scars that led to his shoulder. Fenris stroked her bare back distractedly, then released a needy gasp as her hand burrowed into his trousers.

She stroked his swiftly-swelling cock, then pressed her raspberry-red lips to his ear. “You want to give me something? Give me this,” she whispered.

She ran her thumb around the head of his cock, and he nodded his head. “Gladly,” he groaned. A few frenzied moments later, they were both nude, and Hawke was straddling his lap again, and Fenris was gasping as she stroked the length of his cock with her palm.

She lowered her head toward the other side of his neck, but Fenris stopped her with a gentle hand on her jaw. He dropped his lips to her neck and flicked his tongue into the notch at the base of her throat, and Hawke leaned back into the support of his other arm as his lips and tongue drifted down her sternum and over her breast.

She squeezed his cock, and Fenris bit her nipple with a moan, and then her slick and silken heat was poised above him, taking him in, sliding onto the steely length of his cock inch by exquisite inch, and his groan of bliss poured across Hawke’s lips as she kissed him again.

She pressed down against his hips to take him deep, and their moans of pleasure melded together in an undeniable mix of lust and love. Fenris splayed his palms on her shoulder blades, supporting her as she lifted and lowered herself along the length of his shaft in a slow, smooth slide. He savoured her slick heat squeezing him from tip to base, and he breathed his pleasure against her breast, his tongue flicking over her nipple with every rise and fall of her hips. Then, when her riding began to grow more fast and frantic, Fenris slid his hand between their bodies and brushed his knuckles over the curls between her legs.

Instantly her breath caught in her chest. She slowed her pace to a near-stop, then braced her weight back on her hands. “Yes,” she breathed.

Fenris dropped his gaze between her legs. Gently he parted the curls that veiled her sex, then pressed the knuckle of his index finger against the swollen bud of her pleasure.

Hawke keened with want, then rolled her hips toward his hand. Fenris stared at her, eyes fixed on the undulating wave of her body as she rolled toward his knuckles and pressed her clit against his fingers with the exact rhythm and pressure that suited her best. He watched with rising eagerness as her beautiful face began to twist, lush lips dropping open, her belly going taut as the rolling of her hips grew jerky. When she drew a tremulous gasp of a breath, Fenris reached for her arm.

“F-Fenris,” she cried, and he pulled her shuddering back body toward him and thrust into her hard.

“Oh fuck,” she wailed, and then her mouth was crying out against his own, hands gripping his hair as he held her hips and fucked her fast and firm. The mattress springs groaned beneath them, and their bodies slapped together with a satisfying smack of skin-on-skin. Her breath was hot against his cheek, and his pleasure was gathering with every hard pump of his hips, and then - venhedis, then she was actively slamming her hips back down against him, and Fenris gasped with a growing delirious delight. Hawke’s breasts, her lips, the rapture in her face, the sweat that collected between their bodies they fucked: Fenris loved this, loved the messiness and the breathless frenzy and the way she came undone in his hands. He loved it all, but more than the sex, more than the surging rise of his climax and the way it shattered over him like a tingling wave pulsing through his limbs, he loved her.

They breathed together in the afterglow, her hands on his neck and her sweaty forehead pressed to his. Hawke’s eyes were closed, but Fenris’s eyes were open, taking in the shape of her lips and fan of her eyelashes, and he simply gazed at her until she opened her eyes and smiled.

He kissed her gently, and Hawke kissed him back. Someday soon, they would have a home to call their own, something that belonged to the two of them together. But here in Hawke’s arms, cocooned in the scent of their sex and the warmth of their mutual adoration, Fenris realized that it didn’t matter where they lived, whether it was a tent on the Wounded Coast or a shack in Lowtown or the biggest mansion in Kirkwall.

As long as he and Hawke were together, he would be home.

#fenris #fenris fic #fenris smut #smut #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenris/f!hawke #pikapeppa writes

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anosrepasi · 6 years ago

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Chapter 11: Quiet Moments

Read it on AO3 Bilbo was in the middle of braiding another loaf of bread when the knocking starts. The boys were early.

Nonetheless, they could wait patiently for him to finish and amuse themselves enough while the bread finished baking and the other goods cooled. He called out, confident that the open windows will allow for his voice to carry to his front door, “Come on in!”

He waits until he can hear the door open and close- (hesitantly at that! Did they not hear him properly?) - for him to call out once again, “I’m in the kitchen.”

He busies himself with opening the oven door and sliding in the newly braided loaf, making a mental note to check in again in a little while once he attends to his guests. Closing the door he turns around to greet his company and finds that his expected quartet of gods is down to one.

And the god in question is the last person he expected to have standing in his kitchen.

“Hello Your Majesty.”

— The King of the Dead looks far less regal standing in Bilbo’s kitchen than he did among his own halls, though Bilbo can’t necessarily blame him when Thorin’s appearance has thrown him off his own train of thought. Still, Thorin looks dwarfed by Bag End standing in the doorway of the kitchen, arms pressed firmly to his side as he and Bilbo share a moment of silence that lasts a touch too long to be comfortable.

The silence seems to be enough of a prompt for the King to collect his thoughts, however.

“Hi. I was in the realm and I thought I would take the opportunity to drop by-”

His sentence drops off and his brows furl as he seems to take in the scene of Bilbo covered in flour and standing in his kitchen.

“I should have done a better job of announcing my presence.”

Bilbo laughed and shrugged. He brushed off a bit of flour from his shirt and pointed past Thorin towards the doorway leading to his study and greeting room. “And what kind of host would I be if I needed an announcement in order to welcome a guest. Let’s talk somewhere we can sit down.”

He brushes past Thorin and leads them to the greeting room, with the silent King behind him following his lead. Bilbo motions to the blue armchair and Thorin remains standing next to it, his limbs still pulled close as if he’ll disturb the room around him by taking up his usual amount of space. Bilbo finds it odd, sure, but he’s not about to point it out to the king of the dead. “Would you like some tea?”

“I- sure.” Thorin responds, “I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

He motions towards Bilbo’s kitchen and Bilbo shakes his head and offers a reassuring smile, “Done correctly, it’ll take a while for the bread to bake. Sit, and let me get you a cup of tea.”

He returns with two steaming mugs to find that Thorin finally headed his words and settled into the armchair, though he can see the King’s eyes wandering curiously over the room and the structure of his home. It’s nothing compared to the palace in Erebor but Bilbo still feels a small spark of possessiveness ignite over Bag End. It’s his mother’s legacy, excluding himself. Bilbo hands one of the mugs over to Thorin before settling in his own red armchair, “So what do I owe the pleasure, your majesty?”

“Thorin is fine. I wanted to stop by because it occurred to me that I haven’t thanked you yet, for what you did for Erebor.”

Bilbo finds himself warring between the polite response and his own curiosity. Curiosity takes a few seconds to gain the upper hand but holds out nonetheless. “You came all this way to say thank you?”

“Well I have something for you as well-” Thorin’s hand jumps to his cloak and Bilbo waits, his interest piqued. “One of my citizens spoke of making your acquaintance when you were in Erebor and he wanted me to pass this along to you if we crossed paths-”

Thorin pulls out what Bilbo can only describe as a small statue from where it was hidden by Thorin’s cloak, and their fingers brush momentarily as Thorin hands the object over to Bilbo. Upon closer inspection, Bilbo can immediately identify the statue as a miniature wooden dragon, intricately carved and pieces together by an expert hand. He turns it over in his hands, carefully marveling at the precision of the joinery of the woodwork. Bilbo spots a few well hidden but visible ball joints at certain places in the Dragon’s anatomy- at the tail and neck most noticeably - and gives a gentle experimental tap to the head of the dragon.

The head turns and the stomach of the statue pops open with a small click, causing a small piece of parchment to tumble out of the compartment hidden in the toy. Bilbo deftly retrieves it and settles the toy in his lap as he reads the message.

“Thanks for the trees! This little guy was from the first cut from the grove and his siblings are a huge hit with the kids here.

Hopefully you’ll stop by again sometime soon and see for yourself!”

Bofur’s scratched signature marked the bottom of the paper and Bilbo let out a quick chuckle. “This is delightful- how is Bofur?”

He turns his attention back to Thorin and is taken aback to find Thorin is no longer sitting like a soldier at attention but is leaning forward, chin resting on his crossed hands and elbows resting on his knees while intently watching Bilbo examine the toy dragon. With Bilbo’s attention once again returned to the King he swiftly withdraws and sits up straight, voice police and shallow. “Bofur is well, he’s been a devoted advocate for Erebor’s new forests- the last time we spoke he said they gave him new “Creative Horizons” as he called them.”

“I’m glad to hear it, how about the other shopkeepers?”

Thorin smiled, breaking his mask of polite interest into something warm, and launched into a tale about the most recent passings through the market place- the experiments being done and the new items the different craftsmen had begun to offer with the inclusion of various plants now being available. Bilbo found himself prompting Thorin at each lull in the conversation and it would spark anew with another story. Soon Bilbo was updated on the state of every individual he had helped on his trip, from that cantankerous doctor to the farmers who wished to resume their craft in Erebor.

Their tea was soon cold, left to the side and forgotten in their conversation as Bilbo listened to the King speak of his people. The God of Death, in turn, no long was behaving like his immediate surrounding would crumble if he dared to take up space within the room. Thorin gestured easily through his stories, using his hands to help mime out concepts as he spoke and his voice was confident, dropping low and dramatic for particularly exciting retellings. He coaxed a few easy laughs out of Bilbo as he spoke of his nephews most recent exploits in the city.

It was only the changing of the light that made Bilbo realize he hadn’t been paying attention to the time. He got up with a start and Thorin abruptly stopped his current story mid-sentence, before looking around the room in concern. Bilbo was already out the door but called back behind him, “I need to check the oven! Keep talking!”

The bread was fine, golden brown and filling the kitchen with the savory scent of freshly baked goods- Bilbo was surprised they hadn’t noticed the smell from the other room. He busied himself with pulling out the racks and finding a space for the loaves to cool, given that the pastries he had made before still dominated the counter space of the room.

Thorin did not continue his story, instead Bilbo heard the chink of ceramic and a few soft padding steps through his hallway. Thorin appeared at the entrance of the kitchen, holding the mugs of forgotten tea. “I probably shouldn’t keep you.”

“Oh hush-” Bilbo replied honestly, “This has been nice. It’s good to hear how your people are doing- and I don’t just mean that to boost my own ego over the plants.”

Something Bilbo could not make out flashed in Thorin’s expression but he didn’t miss the small smile on the King’s lips while Thorin quietly walked over to the sink, dumping out the remaining tea and washing out the cups and Bilbo continued to speak, “You’ll have to give Bofur my thanks by the way.”

“Oh, I.” From the side Bilbo couldn’t be sure but suddenly Thorin’s smile seemed less confident, “I thought you’d want to tell him yourself.”

Bilbo shrugs and leans back against the counter, “It’d be a bit silly for you to let me into Erebor just to say thank you to someone. I was under the impression you weren’t a fan of other gods taking liberties with visiting your realm unexpectedly.”

Thorin frowned and opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the sound of the front door banging open- which made Bilbo visibly flinch at the noise - and a clear voice shouting loudly into the house, “Bilbo, we’re here.”

Bilbo raised his voice, “How many time have I told you boys to be careful not to slam that door- it’s not made of stone!”

A different, more timid voice called back as the sound of many people taking off their cloaks rustled forward from the front room, “Sorry Bilbo.”

Bilbo sighs, “It’s always Frodo who shows humility. I’m in the kitchen.”

He raises his voice for the last part and soon there’s a rumbling of steps as his charges appear at the door way and almost immediately descend on the pastries and bread Bilbo has laid out once they see them.

Merry comes to a standstill once he sees Thorin standing there at a loss and Pippin nearly runs into the other gods back as a result, “Who’s this?”

Pippin maneuvers from behind Merry and pays Thorin no mind, continuing on to get his pastries and handing out a few for the other gods in the room. Sam and Frodo also give Bilbo’s visitor questioning looks but their attention shifts into grabbing their snack.

“This is Thorin - and Pippin if you eat or distribute all of those I promise to fate you will be baking each and every replacement.”

Pippin stalled momentarily in his collection of the various rolls and pastries but continued on nonetheless while Merry’s expression changed to one of recognition, “Oh, you’re Fili and Kili’s uncle, right?”

Thorin shifted and seemed equally surprised, “You know them?”

“They saved me from a tree when I was younger,” Pippin said nonchalantly as he shoved another roll into Frodo’s hands and tossed one to Merry. Thorin only looked more confused by the response.

Bilbo quickly intervened.

“Merry is the God of Harvest and Celebration, and Fili and Kili are common guests to his festivals he oversees at the end of the growing season. That’s how I met them actually.”

Merry makes no note of his position and instead lightheartedly bumps into Pippin, “That was the year you got stuck in the tree, right?”

Pippin huffs, “To be fair, that was at least a century ago, I was a child.”

Thorin chuckles and Bilbo lets out a small huff, thinking about how for it being a century his charges haven’t changed that much, speaking of which, “And you all are obviously not children now, but none of you have introduced yourself to Thorin like mannered Gods, have you?”

The four have enough humility to look abashed and each mumble out a quick apology. Merry takes the lead, followed by Sam, Frodo and Pippin.

“Merry, God of Harvests and Celebrations, at your service.”

“Samwise, God of Hard Work and Perseverance.”

“Frodo, of Elrond’s Realm.”

“Pippin, God of Ingenuity.”

“And mischief.” Bilbo adds to Pippins introduction with a teasing smile and the boys go back to talking amongst themselves and eating up all of Bilbo's hard work. Thorin chuckles at Bilbo’s addition and Bilbo returns his attention to his guest, “How about I walk you out?”

They escape the chaos of the kitchen and the hallway is strangely quiet in comparison leading towards the front room and the door. Bilbo takes the lead and once they can no longer hear the boys Thorin speaks up, “So do you have siblings?”

“No. The boys were each found as new gods by Elrond and he thought I’d be a good fit for guardian for them as they figured this out-” Bilbo sweeps his hand broadly and Thorin nods in understanding, “By that point I was alone so they’ve been a welcome addition since Belladonna isn’t around anymore.”

“Your mentor?”

“Mentor and Mother. She’s the one who built this house actually. I inherited my title from her, along with this place.” Bilbo’s hands twirl, his thumb brushing up against the gold ring on his index finger as he twists it around as habit. He stops at the door and Thorin’s eyes drop down to it as he comes to stand next to Bilbo.

“You must miss her.”

Bilbo gives a half hearted nod, “I do. But I know if was also her time and she took it in stride- She kept trying to give me advice and remind me to check up on things until she had faded completely.” He gives a quick laugh but can’t help but notice the slight sting in his eyes. “I hope I’ve got the same grace when it’s my turn.”

“You seem certain you’ll pass on your title, though that’s not a given for every god.” Thorin noted, his sharp eyes back on Bilbo and his expression open. Bilbo gave a half smile, he appreciated the gods bluntness if nothing else with his questions. “I’ve just got a feeling. Frodo hasn’t found his calling yet despite the fact he’s actually older than his brothers. I think when it’s my turn, he’s going to to become the God of Planting - it just seems right, somehow.”

“That outcome doesn’t bother you?” Thorin asked, his curiosity evident in his voice but holding not ill intent in his words as far as Bilbo could tell.

“If that’s what Galadriel foresees, I’m not going to complain. I’ve had a good time, been in good company. Plus, I think I’ve got ages left in me, it’ll be a while until those boys are truly ready to hold their own.”

Thorin did not respond immediately, “Aye, hopefully they’ll continue to be young for a while.”

He passes by Bilbo as Bilbo opens the door for him, “-You should stop by Erebor sometime, if you want to.”

“Thank you, Thorin.” Bilbo replies easily, “I’ll keep that in mind and let you know if I wish to visit.”

“Good.” Thorin says simply, “Goodbye, Master Gardener.”

“Goodbye, Your Majesty.”

#chapter update #fic update #my writing #the hobbit #bagginshield #mythology au #Soil and Ashes

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ratwrites · 6 years ago

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She’s Moved On :RE:

Hey. I hope that I’m not disturbing you, but I’ve had an idea for a Fili fic. Its where the reader is Filis one and they get together on the quest, but during the journey they meet the readers former ‘lover’ and Fili gets jealous and protective of the reader. Thought it could be a good fic. I hope you can use it:D

Masterlist.

Requests.

Requested By: Anonymous

Warnings: None

Pairing: Fili X Reader

Word Count: 2,620

A/N: I’m suffering through a case of writer's block so please bare with me.. Summer is hitting me harder than it should be and it’s making everything insanely difficult so.

I sat next to Fili leaning my body against his. My eyes dared to close, but I kept them open. "How do we know we can trust him?" Dwalin growled, looking back to the Bowman. "Bard, his name is Bard," Balin reported. "How do you know?" Glòin snapped. "Because I asked him," Balin responded, blandly. Silence fell over the boat. A large rock appeared from the fog. "Watch out!" Bilbo yelped. "What are you trying to do, drown us?" Dwalin snarled, looking back at Bard. "I have been traveling these waters since I was a child, master dwarf. If I wanted to drown you I wouldn't do it here," I sniggered at Bard's answer. He had a smart mouth on him toward the dwarves and it was highly entertaining at times. I lifted my head from Fili's shoulder as Thorin approached us. "Hand over whatever gold you have. We have to pay this man," Thorin ordered. I watched as Fili reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small satchel. He handed it to Thorin and nodded his head slightly. I rolled my eyes and put my hands on my belt removing the leather satchel that was attached to it. I dumped out it's contents and handed them to Thorin reattaching the satchel back to my belt. He turned and walked away. I sighed and laid my head down on Fili's shoulder once more. His arm shifter and gently wrapped around my waist keeping me close. I let another sigh pass from my lips as an argument broke out among the company. Glòin wouldn't give up his gold. "Come on Glòin, hand it over," Bofur ordered. "No! This venture has bled me dry!" He shouted. The argument continued for a moment longer until silence fell over the boat. Fili tapped my waist which caused me to look up. I gasped as the shadow of the mountain seemed to poke through the fog. I snapped my mouth closed remembering that I didn't really belong under that mountain. I looked away from the mountain. "(Y/N) what's wrong?" Fili questioned, nudging me gently by my waist. I opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off. "Pay me now and get in the barrels," Bard hissed. "We will pay you once we're safely on land," Thorin replied, lowly. "If you value your lives you will pay me now and do as I say," Bard snapped. I watched as Bilbo moved toward the barrels and climbed in one. I stood and followed him dragging Fili with me. We climbed into a pair of barrels that sat next to each other.

I crouched down in my barrel my legs instantly protesting. I ground my teeth together trying to endure the soreness that was being stirred up. I could hear the rest of the company slipping into barrels. Silence fell over us again as everyone settled into their barrels. I leaned my body against the barrel trying to release some of the pressure on my cramped legs, but all was in vain. I listened to the soft movement of the water around us. The boat came to a halt. Bard's voice could be heard, but I couldn't make out the words being exchanged between him and a stranger. Bard moved around the boat passing my barrel. Another silence. I yelped slightly as a stench suddenly overcame me burying me. I wildly looked around noticing that it was fish that he was pouring into my barrel. The smell made me want to gag, but I stayed still as he covered me completely. My legs screamed as more weight was put on them. I sealed my eyes closed and began to try and breath through my mouth. I gagged again as the smell seemed to touch my tongue.

I could've sworn we'd been trapped in these barrels forever. I hadn't opened my eyes since he'd put the fish in. My clothes were damp with the liquid covered the fish. It was disgusting. The boat came to a halt again. "Ah, Bard! I see you've brought some fish!" A new voice chirped. "That I have," Bard replied. "Well, let me see your papers and I'll go ahead and let you through!" I listened as Bard moved across the deck again. "Lemme lift the gate for you," Bard walked back across the deck. "Hold on just a minute!" Another voice called. This new voice made me cringe. He sounded like a snake. "Illegal fish aye? I thought you were a bargeman, not a Fisherman," the man hissed. "The people need food," Bard responded. "And you won't be the one to get them, dump the fish!" Panic washed over me as more footsteps sounded on the deck. The barrel next to mine was being dragged across the deck. I could hear the fish dumping from it. "What do you think will happen if the people see you dumping fish back? The riots will start again, that's what will happen," Bard growled. "Do you really want that?"

"Stop!" The sound of falling fish ceased. I held back a sigh of relief as the barrel was dragged back into its place. "Let him pass," The boat began to move again. Everything was quite as we waited for the announcement that we were safe. The boat halted once more. "You can stand up now," Without hesitation I breached the fish and engulfed a deep breath of air. I opened my eyes and wiped my face of the slime. I glanced over to see Fili doing the same. I pushed my hair back as Fili climbed from his barrel. I began to climb from mine letting out a soft groan as my legs protested my movements. I put my legs over the barrel as Fili approached me. He gently took my waist and helped me from the barrel setting my feet down on the deck. "Thank you," I smiled, softly. He nodded his head. We climbed off the boat staying at each other's sides. Bard handed a few gold coins to an old man standing by the boat. "Take all the fish you want," he smiled. "Follow me," Bard motioned. Our company began to follow him. “Where are you taking us?” Bofur asked, walking smoothly next to Bilbo. “I am taking you to my home,” Bard replied. A young boy raced out to meet Bard. “Da! Da there are men watching the house!” the boy yelped. I glanced over at Fili who held a scowl on his face. It didn’t suit him. I touched his hand drawing his attention to me. His scowl faded to reveal a stiff smile. That was good enough for me. “Plans changed, follow me,” Bard took off in a different direction. We began to follow him unsure on whether or not he should actually be trusted. I could hear Dori and Nori mumbling behind me, but I didn’t bother to listen. My eyes scanned the surrounding town. I’d been in Laketown before. It used to be my home. I continued to examine the place as people walked by our company shooting us strange glances. No one seemed to mind too much. A tall man passed us his gaze catching mine. My heart jumped dangerously into my throat. I looked away and moved my body closer to Fili’s. It couldn’t be him. I inhaled a deep breath and kept my pace next to Fili. I reached out and grabbed the dwarf’s hand intertwining our fingers. Our company came to a halt as a group of guards appeared in front of us. “Halt!” they called. Bard turned to us. “Quick this way!”

It took about an hour to escape the guards and reach our destination. I sighed and plopped down in the nearest chair; it wasn’t really a chair, it was more of a bench. Fili dropped down next to me with a huff. Bard’s home was small and barely big enough for our company, but we managed. A knock came on the door causing all of us to look. “Relax, it should be a friend of mine who will help you more than I can,” Bard announced. He opened the door letting the stranger inside. My heart dropped to my feet. This was so stranger. “The last person I expected to see was you, (Y/N),” he huffed, walking over to Fili and I. “It’s been a very long time,” he continued. Fili stood to his feet and moved in front of me. “And who might you be?” he asked, looking up at the man. “Oh, I am (Name)!” he bowed, slightly. “(Y/N) and I used to be very close. Has she never spoken of me?” he asked, looking over Fili and to me. I looked away from his eyes and to Fili’s back. “No,” Fili responded, his shoulders tensing up. “That’s a shame. I thought we had something (Y/N),” he whined. Fili tensed up more. I wanted to throw up, but I refrained from doing so. “(Name), come here,” Bard ordered. Without another word he turned and walked away. Fili stood for a moment longer before sitting back down next to me. I brought my gaze to my lap. “Who was that?” Fili questioned. “Someone,” I replied, gently. “We promised no secrets (Y/N), please,” Fili whimpered. “It’s not a secret Fili, it’s just someone that I would rather forget than relive,” I replied, harshly. “I’m sorry Fili,” I quickly apologized for my attitude. “It’s alright, I understand,” Without another word Fili wrapped his arm over my shoulders and pulled me close. I accepted the motion burying my face into the fur on his coat.

"We needed weapons not whatever these are!" Thorin snarled, throwing down a fishing spear. Bard and his friend frowned. "Well this is the best you're going to get here. The only other weapons you will find here are in the Master's amory," (Name) added. "Then we will take them," Dwalin snarled. "Thorin, let's just take what we're being given. We've both dealt with less," Balin pleaded. "He's right," I mentioned. Thorin shot me a hard look which caused me to silence myself. I looked at (Name) and Bard. Something in the Bowman's expression had changed, but I wasn't sure what. "I will be right back," Bard muttered. He turned and moved toward the door (Name) following behind him. I watched curiously as Bard whispered something to name before he took his leave. I turned away from him as his gaze met mine. I found Fili sitting by his brother. Kili looked like a ghost. I smoothly walked over to the brothers and sat down on the floor in front of them. "How are you feeling Kili?" I questioned, offering him a gentle smile. "My leg feels like it's on fire," he grumbled, letting his head hang down. I caught Fili's gaze. I gave him a reassuring look and he accepted it. "So (Y/N)," That voice sent uncomfortable shivers up my spine as he spoke my name. I looked over my shoulder staring at his feet. "How did you get mixed up with these- creatures?" Anger sparked within me. I looked back up to Fili who had fire in his eyes. I stood to my feet and touched Fili's shoulder showing him that I could handle this. I turned to face (Name). "They are dwarves, and they are of my own kind," I responded, blandly. "You aren't one of them," he continued. "I am, my father was a dwarf," I reported, folding my arms over my chest. He stayed quiet for a moment letting that information sink in. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" He asked, tilting his head. "Because you didn't deserve to know," I raised my voice slightly catching the attention of the company. I hoped that with all eyes on him he wouldn't be such a fool. "I think I deserved to know what family I was going to marry into," he growled. My heart sank to my feet. "Marry?" Fili's voice was quiet behind me. "Well, I think I deserved to know that my future husband was already married and seeing another woman behind your wife and my back," I spoke, calmly. Fili was on his feet. "Looks like you left me for the pigs,"

"You will hold your tongue. The only pig here is yourself," Thorin snarled. I was surprised that Thorin stood up for me. "At least with me she had something," he hissed. "And she has something better without you," Fili defended, taking my hand in his own. I squeezed his hand. "Oh? And what are you to her? Her servant?" (Name) laughed. Fili's face turned red. "I am Fili, son of Vili, heir to the throne of Erebor. You will hold your tongue," Fili snarled. "Heir?" (Name) seemed taken aback. "Heir?" (Name) repeated, in a mocking voice. "Too bad she isn't decieving the king," (Name) snorted. "Because the king doesn't see fit to take his nephews bride," Thorin attacked. (Name)'s mouth dropped open. He hadn't realized who's presence he had been standing in. "Thorin, son of Thrain? King under the mountain?" He gasped. Thorin nodded strongly."You are the one that will restore the great mountain and all of its riches?" (Name) questioned. Thorin's glare gave him the answer he needed. "I am at your service," (Name) bowed. He'd always kissed the rears of the rich if it was a chance for him to become rich. "And your service will never be required for you are nothing but a pig," Thorin boomed. "Come, it's getting dark. If we want weapons we better go now," Dwalin interrupted. The company began to move toward the door, but (Name) ran forward and blocked it. "Why don't you wait until morning?" He suggested. "Step aside," Thorin growled. "I can't let you leave," (Name) hissed. "Move or you will be moved," I snapped, stepping toward him. "You can't move me (Y/N)," he growled. Swiftly I moved forward hitting him in the chest. He stumbled backwards hitting the door. I quickly stepped aside allowing Fili to ran into him knocking the door open. Fili caught his balance as (Name) collapsed to the ground. "I don't need you move you," I snorted. We moved out of the house and made our way to the armory.

We loaded ourselves onto the boat that would take us to the mountain. I stepped onto the boat turning back and waiting for Fili. Fili stepped on behind me and Kili followed. Surprise washed over me as Thorin stopped Kili. "Not you, you will only slow us down," Thorin muttered. "Thorin-" He held his hand to silence me. "Uncle you can't! You can't take this away from him!" Fili yelped. "He will slow us down," Thorin repeated. "I will carry him if I just!" Fili yelled. "Fili..." Kili whimpered. I moved to grab Fili as he stepped back out of the boat. "Fili what are you doing? Your place is with us," Thorin growled. "My place is with my brother and my bride," Fili snarled. I moved to follow Fili, but Thorin blocked my path. "You will be staying with us," Thorin ordered. "I would like to go with my lover!" I yelped. "Go with them (Y/N). They will need you," Fili whimpered. "But I need you!" I cried, trying to push past Thorin. He shoved me back keeping me on the boat. "We will meet you at the mountain, I promise," Fili offered me a reassuring smile. "I will miss you," I sighed. "As will I miss you; and don't worry, I will deal with him," Fili added. "Don't get yourself into trouble Fili," I scorned. "No promises," Fili smiled.

The Hobbit:

@lidda

Forever Taglist

@calaena-banrion @xaviersmutcnt @raindrops-on-roses142

#kili and fili #fili #fili the dwarf #the hobbit #the desolation of smaug #boi better back up #you gonna get #fote #bro

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audreycritter · 8 years ago

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Grandpa Bee & Nanny Cat

Batfam Fluff Cor Et Cerebrum Continuity Gen/Family + Batcat ~2100 Words AO3 Link Here

Selina stops by the Manor and finds Bruce babysitting Isaac Wayne, Jason’s oldest. Pure fluff and I do not apologize. Grandpa Bee & Nanny Cat

The study was not as quiet as Selina Kyle expected it to be at three in the morning when approached it. She pressed her ear to the door to determine who was inside and if she wanted to interrupt.

She was surprised to hear one-sided quiet murmuring, too low for a phone call. Curious, she pushed the door open and peered in.

Bruce was not at his desk like she had expected; he was pacing by the empty fireplace, his back to her. He looked over his shoulder at the sound of the door opening, even though it was barely a sound at all. His senses were always sharp, though, and she took his eye contact as invitation and slipped into the room.

There was a baby in his arms, with warm brown skin the color of the oak trees outside, and tight little black curls of hair. She was bad at guessing the ages of children, but she knew this one and that he was around six months old.

“Don’t tell me you’re so desperate you’re kidnapping children now,” she whispered, perching on the edge of the couch arm. It felt like the sort of place to be quiet, even though the baby was staring wide-eyed and fully awake at Bruce’s face.

“Jay’s sick,” Bruce whispered back, that low voice he had that shouldn’t be able to form words the way it did. “Alfred made him come over for a few days so we could help.”

“Grandpa Bruce, huh.” She grinned impishly at him, teasing, even though some small part of her heart ached at the truth of it. She felt like children of her own was something she’d missed out on, by choice or circumstance, and most of the time didn’t even regret it-- she wasn’t moping around feeling weepy for lost opportunities. But Bruce, for all his attempts at isolation, had always seemed like the sort man who needed family.

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” he warned. He pulled his eyes from her face and looked down at the attentive infant again, and said something so softly Selina couldn’t make it out. It might not have been English, or even words at all.

“Oh, hush,” Selina said, rising to stand next to him and look down at Isaac. “You love it.”

“I do,” he acknowledged with a half smile, still looking at the baby. A little hand reached up and swatted clumsily at his face.

“So, did you commit the cardinal sin of waking him when you got back?” Selina was still curious.

“No,” Bruce said, catching the hand in one of his own. The grip tightened around one of his fingers, the tiny digits dwarfed by his own pale hand. “Alfred was up with him. I told him to get some rest and I’d get Isaac to sleep. Clearly, I’ve made excellent progress.”

“At least he’s not crying,” Selina offered, an amused attempt at consolation. Bruce didn’t really sound that bothered though.

“It’s a minor improvement,” Bruce said, just as Isaac’s lips scrunched in a dangerous way. Bruce left her side to resume his pacing and Isaac’s face relaxed.

After a few minutes, he gave her a sidelong glance.

“Want to hold him?”

“Would I survive Jason?”

“What makes you think he’d be upset?”

“I’ve heard the criminal life is catching.”

“Do you remember how I found Jay?”

Selina laughed and relented, holding her arms out. “Give the kid over before I change my mind. If he even looks unhappy, he’s all yours again.”

The little body settled against her and into her arms without so much as a whimper of protest at being moved. She walked with him for a moment, making a lazy figure-8 on the rug, while Bruce sat on the couch and leaned back with a sigh.

“You in one piece over there, Bat?” she asked. Her gaze was still on Isaac when she asked, the baby’s wide eyes studying her face.

“Pulled something,” Bruce admitted. “My shoulder’s stiff.”

“I could do something about that if you hadn’t made us responsible adults. You and your brood.”

“Don’t leave yourself out of that,” Bruce said. There was a wry smile on his face even though his eyes were closed when she looked over. “You’ve been around a lot. Steph and Cass were deciding the other day what your name should be when they talk to Isaac.”

“Oh no.” Selina laughed and Isaac’s eyes and mouth opened in surprise. “Shhh,” she said to him with what she hoped was a gentle smile. She spoke to Bruce again. “I’ll have to make myself scarce for a while before I get too permanent. Maybe leave the country.”

“Nanny Cat was Cass’ favorite,” Bruce said. “I think they’re going for an animal theme. I haven’t told them yet that it’s mostly up to him. France, next month?”

“The entourage included?”

“Just us. A week or two.”

“Not Paris,” Selina said. “I’m in the mood for a beach.”

“You’re just hoping I’ll get a sunburn again,” Bruce accused in a grumble. He stretched his legs out, his feet propped on the coffee table.

“It’s not my fault you’re stubborn about sunblock. I offered, twice. That’s my limit.” Selina made sure Isaac was securely nestled along one arm before using the other to poke his nose. He blinked at her.

“I’ll book tickets,” Bruce said.

Isaac yawned and Selina sat on the other end of the couch, risking infantile rage to lean back against the arm and relax. Her own feet ached from those stupid heels she should have given up on sooner earlier in the day. She tucked them across the middle cushion, facing Bruce.

She found a bit of curled string in her slim, too-small pocket. It wasn’t anything intentional, just the equivalent of lint in the place where she hoped she had a mint or two. Rather than leave it or brush it off her fingers onto the rug, she decided to experiment and drifted it in front of Isaac’s face.

Eagerly, his eyes attempted to focus on it, following it and overshooting more than once. His face crinkled in concentration as he tried to make sense of the oddity and keep it in his line of sight. She held it in one place and bounced it.

“Selina.” Bruce interrupted with a note of shock in his tone. There was open horror on his usually controlled face. “Selina, he’s not a cat.”

Isaac giggled and swung an arm wildly at the string, missing by a good ten inches.

“What?” she protested. “He’s not complaining.”

“He’s going to be mad when you won’t let him put it in his mouth.”

Isaac gummed on his fist as he contemplated the string, now softly swaying above him.

“Find something he can, then,” Selina said, prodding Bruce’s side with an outstretched foot. He pulled himself off the couch and went to rummage around on the desk. He came back with a colorful alligator and held it out to her.

But Isaac was now sleepily gnawing on his fingers. He yawned and his eyes drifted shut.

Bruce sat down again and kept the alligator, resting it on the arm of the couch beside him.

“I’m assuming the alligator is part of the animal theme,” Selina commented in an even softer whisper.

“It’s a crocodile.” Bruce leaned back and yawned.

“How do you know?”

“Have you ever seen an alligator?” he asked, gesturing toward the toy.

Selina considered it for a moment. It was green and neon orange, with purple eyes and a black and white striped tail.

“You are a terrible person,” she decided.

“I’ve been called worse, and by you,” Bruce accepted amiably. “You’re good with him.”

“Only because he’s playing along.” Selina looked down. Isaac was almost asleep, one side of his mouth twitching and his eyes fluttering gently. “Any hint of real work and I’m dumping him in your lap.”

Selina didn’t know if it was something in the way she spoke or just his own thoughts that made Bruce turn his head, still tipped back on the couch, toward her.

“Do you wish things had been different?”

Isaac twisted a little in her arms and fussed, then settled again. Selina swallowed and scooted back a bit more and put her feet in Bruce’s lap. Almost automatically, he began rubbing her ankles and then massaging her arches with his thumbs.

“No,” Selina said honestly. “It’s a waste of time to think about it being anything other than what it is. But I don’t mind this, for right now.”

“Hmm,” Bruce said, his hands pausing as he rolled one shoulder a little, and then resuming their motion.

With a little arch of his back, Isaac smacked his lips and then woke himself up with a feeble cry. Selina bounced him a little but he wailed more loudly in reply. She sat up straight, feeling suddenly helpless herself, and right as Bruce held his arms out there was a sleepy mumble from the doorway of the study.

“He’s hungry.” Jason was standing there in gym shorts and a faded t-shirt, his hair sticking straight up on one side, shaking a bottle. “Al said you were down here with him.” He sniffled, a congested and miserable sound.

Bruce stood with Isaac in his arms and held a hand out for the bottle. Jason shook his head and stretched an arm out in reply.

“Gimme my kid, old man.”

Jason sank into the armchair facing the couch, still looking half-asleep, and Isaac quieted almost immediately and sucked hungrily on the bottle.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asked, sitting next to Selina. He grabbed for her feet again and she kicked at his hand but he snatched her ankle and tugged. She gave up and let him have them.

“Like shit,” Jason said. A second later he added, “Don’t say ‘shit,’ Isaac. I’m sick or I’d be more careful.”

“You can go back to bed.” Bruce didn’t get up when he offered and Selina thought he seemed content to not force the issue.

“I will.” Jason yawned. “But I haven’t seen him all day. It’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?” Bruce chuckled. “I was at work.”

“You collected too many of us. Everybody wants a turn with the new one.” Jason pulled the bottle back when Isaac mewled angrily at it and shook it some more. Isaac seemed pacified by this subtle change and kept eating when it was reoffered.

Selina watched silently, feeling strangely comfortable for the domestic quality of the scene and the desire to make an escape was absent. It might have had something to do with the fact that Bruce was still massaging her sore feet.

The only sound in the room for several minutes was that of Isaac sucking on the bottle.

“I’m falling asleep,” Jason mumbled. “If he’s out, too, just leave us here.”

“I can put him in his crib,” Bruce said.

“I’m not gonna drop him,” Jason said irritably. “And I can’t sleep lying down anyway. We’ll be fine.” He put the empty bottle on the floor and propped Isaac up on his shoulder. The baby did look thoroughly and completely asleep, more than he ever had in Selina’s arms. His mouth was slack and a string of drool dangled and dripped on Jason’s shirt. A second later, Jason snored. Isaac didn’t move.

“C’mon,” Bruce patted Selina’s ankle and stood.

She flicked off the light as they left the room.

“Bed or food?” Bruce asked, sounding exhausted himself. “If you’re staying.”

“Bed,” Selina said, pointing down the hallway. “Lead the way. I’m too tired to go home now. You made me too relaxed.”

“My master plan,” Bruce teased, climbing up the stairs in step with her. “I’m a good strategist, you know.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Selina said. “Maybe someday it’ll be true. As it is, your haphazardly assembled family strongly contests that point.”

“He’s a good dad, isn’t he?” Bruce answered, his voice twinged with pride.

“Yes,” Selina agreed, putting her arm through his at the top of the stairs. “You have a good family, Bat. Thanks for sharing sometimes.”

“Anytime, Nanny Cat.” Bruce grinned in the dark hallway, so sharp and sudden that she could see and hear it even in the dim quiet. She jabbed his ribs and pretended more annoyance than she actually felt, letting it chase away the faint edge of cautionary fear that tried to creep in.

“I’m taking the good pillows just for that,” she said, opening the door and going into the master bedroom ahead of him. “You’ll just have to tough it out.”

#no profreading we die like mne #ficblogging #batfam #isaac wayne #selina kyle #jason todd #bruce wayne #ao3 link #cor et cerebrum series

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sambethe · 8 years ago

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CSSV Fic: Happenstance (full version)

A/N: For @killiarious. Thank you for your patience, love! Here is the full version of your gift. Again, it was lovely chatting and please feel free to swing by to chat more any time you like! Thanks also to @tnlph and @mryddinwilt for providing the initial inspiration for this story from this convo a year ago.

Summary: He was just trying to escape everything. She wasn’t part of his plan.

Words: 3400 | Rating: M | ao3

+++

He should thank Liam, he knew it. He wouldn’t need to leave the flat, minus the initial trip to the market, for days. There were enough books, along with wine and rum, to last him for weeks. And the view, Killian still wasn’t sure there were words.

Good god, brother. The pictures you sent weren’t enough.

I know. Don’t skulk your entire stay. The city is better up close.

Killian rolled his eyes. He was almost grateful when he found out his brother would be out of town when he sent his plea for a place to crash. He needed to be away from Tink, away from town, their apartment. From everything, really. And while he hadn’t seen Liam since his transfer to Istanbul, the prospect of the judgement in his eyes, even as he would welcome him in, was more than Killian thought he could bear.

Liam sent him instructions on where he could pick up a set of keys and a warning that he promised a friend a place to stay later in the week while she was in town for a job.

And stay as long as you like, little brother. I’m due home in a couple weeks.

Liam had been vague and dismissive when he’d asked about who the house guest was, and Killian chose not to think too much of it as he stripped out of his clothes and swapped them for a pair of sweats and a battered, old t-shirt and spent the next few days padding barefoot from the guest room to the kitchen to the couch. He dumped his phone in his bag at some point, leaving the battery to drain, and kept his nose buried in the pile of books he’d pulled from the shelves Liam had lining one full wall of the flat.

He curled his feet beneath one of the throw blankets he’d found and peered over his book’s pages to eye the shelves again. A pang of jealousy flared in his chest. Killian hadn’t had a flat of his own, not since Milah’s death. After her, he’d packed up most of their things and dumped them in storage, choosing to spend most nights out on his sailboat or with a friend. Moving in with Tink hadn’t been something he planned, not really. It was a pattern - a habit born of circumstance - they sort fell into, and his tacit refusal to bring anything of his own to unpack had been the source of more than one argument.

He hadn’t thought he missed it, but here surrounded by all of Liam’s things, he could admit the appeal.

By day four of his stay he’d nearly forgotten about Liam’s promised house guest. It wasn’t until he stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist that he heard footsteps echo beyond the bathroom. Realizing he hadn’t brought any clothes with him to change into, he shrugged and ran his hand through his damp hair. The flat was mostly open concept with Liam’s bedroom lofted above. The only spaces walled off were the bathroom and the small guest room he was using, so they’d have to get used to one another anyway.

That said, he wasn’t prepared for her. At all.

She was slim and blonde, loose curls falling over her shoulders and dressed in tight jeans and heeled boots with a black blazer that almost dwarfed her frame. She arched an eyebrow and gave his chest a once over as she leant against the dining table and watched him walk into the living room, a coffee cup raised to her lips. He offered her a grin and a raised eyebrow of his own before she frowned and settled the mug on the table.

“You’re Killian, huh?” she asked, turning to her attention to her phone. Before he could answer, she was walking around the table and pulling something from the kitchen shelves.

He nodded, despite knowing she couldn’t see him, and leant back to prop himself against the couch as she poured some cereal into a bowl.

“I guess I’m taking Liam’s room since your stuff is all over the guest room?”

“Aye, if you don’t mind, love.” He crossed his ankles and continued to watch her steadfastly ignore him, enjoying the way the red on her cheeks had started to spread down her chest.

She glanced up and narrowed her eyes at him. “Not your love, and it’s fine. I won’t be here much anyway.”

He knew he should stop. He should duck into his room and throw on some clothes, but something about the set of her shoulders and the fact Liam had been cagey about details on her egged him on. “That’s a pity. Might be fun.”

A muttered ‘uh huh’ and a roll of her eyes were the only response she gave him as she dumped the bowl and spoon into the dishwasher and made her way to the loft stairs.

“Liam neglected to give me your name,” Killian called after her.

“Emma,” she said, not turning around.

What are you playing at, brother?

Killian stared at his screen, willing Liam to answer. He didn’t fail.

Don’t even think about it. She’ll eat you alive.

True to her word, Killian barely saw Emma over the next two days. She was up and out before dawn, and when she returned at night she quickly retreated to Liam’s lofted room. The only sign she was there would be the occasional rustle of her blankets or her soft hum as she sang along to whatever she was listening to on her headphones.

So he was surprised when he emerged from his room on the third afternoon in just his pajama pants to find her sitting on the couch, her hair up in a bun, glasses on her face, and a book open in her lap.

He grunted a greeting and shuffled to the kitchen in search of coffee.

“Are you always shirtless?”

He grinned as he poured some beans into the grinder and grabbed the electric kettle to fill it. “Didn’t expect to find you here,” he replied once he set the water to boil and grabbed the Chemex from where he left it on the counter the day before. “You’ve made yourself scarce.”

“Yeah, well, my shoot for today was canceled, so I thought I’d take it easy.”

She fell quiet as Killian continued to make himself coffee. He watched her page through her book for a few minutes before she got up and wandered to the stereo, pulling a few records from the shelves. “You mind?” she asked, tipping her chin to the turntable.

He shook his head and she pulled a record from its sleeve and turned on Liam’s stereo system. She settled back down in the corner of the couch, burying herself in the nest of blankets she had dragged out from somewhere, and jealousy once again crept through his chest. There was no mistaking she knew her way around the flat and he wondered exactly who she was to Liam and why he hadn’t mentioned her before.

He didn’t recognize the music she put on, some sort of indie pap with male vocals that were nearly drowned out by the piano and strings, but it fit his mood. By the time he joined her on the couch, she had turned back to her book and seemed lost amongst its pages. So he picked up the one he’d been reading the night before and tucked himself into the other end of the couch.

He hadn’t got all that far into the chapter when he felt her staring at him. He looked up to find her eyeing the pile of books he had stacked on the end table next to him.

“Have you even left the apartment since I got here?” she asked.

He shook his head and finished off the remains of his coffee before getting up to pour himself another cup.

She tipped her head back against the back of the couch, her eyes following him as he walked away. “Have you been out in the city at all?”

“Does the market count?”

He could see her roll her eyes as she sat up.

“Go get dressed.”

“Pardon?”

“We’re going out. You can’t come to Istanbul and spend the entire time holed up in your brother’s apartment. That’s just sad.”

“I’m not –”

Her level stare cut him off.

“Fine. Am I permitted a shower first?”

“Can you get dressed when you’re done and not parade around in a towel?”

He grinned and stood up, resting his hand on the waist of his sleep pants as he rolled up on the balls of his feet. “I’ll see if I can manage.”

Killian had to begrudgingly admit Emma had a point. He hadn’t paid much attention during the taxi ride from the train station his first night. He had laid his head against the seat’s headrest and closed his eyes beneath his sunglasses while the city rushed, or more accurately crawled, past. Liam’s neighbor had helped him navigate the local market when Killian met him to get the keys, and he had mostly focused on gathering what he’d need rather than his surroundings, his determination to get enough so as to not leave the flat again driving him forward.

But now, walking through the streets with Emma, he could see through Emma’s eyes what drew Liam to stay here. She took in all the lights, the brightly painted doors, and the mass of people through the lens of her camera, a small smile on her face as she clicked away.

“You’re a photographer?” he asked as they made their way down a narrow street that more resembled an alley.

She bumped his hip with her own. “What did you think all the camera bags were for, Jones?”

He shrugged. “When you mentioned the photo shoot, I just assumed….”

Emma laughed and shook her head. “That I was a model?” She glanced up and focused her camera on one of the balconies above them. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but I prefer being on this side of the lens.”

They continued on, Emma stopping occasionally at street stalls, charming vendors and stuffing Killian with muscles, chestnuts, and some small sandwich filled with spiced meat and potatoes.

He eyed the contents. “Do I want to know what this is?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows as he looked over to find her already half finished with hers.

She grinned and handed him a napkin. “Don’t ask questions, just enjoy.”

It was dark by the time they returned to the flat and Killian was happy to feel the day’s heat fade and a slight breeze begin to blow.

“Wine?” she asked, kicking off her shoes and padding over to the small wine fridge Liam kept in the corner of the kitchen.

He nodded and moved to open the balcony door, letting in the night air as she grabbed a bottle and poured two glasses.

He took the glass she offered him and sat on the couch. “So how do you know Liam?”

“I was an embed in his unit a few years back in Afghanistan. We stayed in touch.” She sat facing him, her legs crisscrossed and her knee close enough to brush his thigh.

“Tough job.”

She shrugged and took a sip of her wine. “I’m good at it.”

“I imagine. I saw how you were with those vendors, the one seemed more than smitten while handing over those extra stuffed muscles. The military boys wouldn’t stand a chance.”

She laughed, a full-throated thing that had her tossing back her head and Killian admired the way the movement made the low-light of the flat catch on her hair.

“Are you two….” He waved his hand in a non-committal gesture, unsure if his not finishing the question was a matter of not knowing how to frame it or not wanting to give it voice if the answer was yes.

Emma smiled and leaned forward, crowding into his space. “Are you asking if I am fucking your brother?”

“I suppose I am,” he replied, his hand falling to brush at her knee but not pushing further, already knowing they were pushing into awkward territory if the answer was yes.

Her hair fell forward, framing her face as she pushed closer and linked her fingers through his. “Are you saying you’re interested?” She looked up at him through her lashes, her tongue licking at her bottom lip.

Killian bit back a groan and reached to cup her face. “Just answer the question, love.”

She smiled a slow, sensual thing before pulling back to stand. “No, Jones, your brother has only ever been my friend.” She then made her way towards the stairs, opening her blouse as she did. When she reached the base she turned to him, allowing him a glance of the curve of her breast from her breastbone and the pink lace of her bra. He knew he must be gaping, resembling more the eager lad he had once been than the artful rake he’d been perfecting over the past few years, by the way her smile morphed into a smirk.

“You joining me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Grey light was filtering through the windows when Killian woke. Emma was still asleep beside him, the slow rise and fall of her shoulder pulling his attention from the view of the city’s spires in the distance. He dropped his hand to her arm, drawing the backs of his knuckles along her soft skin. When she eventually stirred, he asked, “You working today?”

She shook her head and turned, slipping her knee between his legs and pressing a kiss to his chin. “Yesterday’s job was supposed to be two days long. I don’t have anywhere to be until tomorrow.”

Killian hummed and brought his hand up to tip her chin to him, his lips hovering just out of reach of hers. “Good.”

It was mid-morning by the time Emma prodded them into the shower and well past lunch by the time they actually managed to leave the flat. They spent the afternoon again walking through town, Emma navigating them through the crowded streets, guiding them through the market until they both grew tired. They eventually found themselves at a small, street side café where they sat and watched the passing crowd.

“Do gigs usually cancel on you?”

She frowned and turned her attention from her coffee to the camera on her lap, fiddling with the settings until she brought it up to her face and focused it on something over Killian’s shoulder. “Not ones that book me to fly out, no.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He swirled a sugar cube through the thick surface of his coffee but she kept her eyes on the camera’s display.

“Do you want to talk about why you’ve been holed up in your brother’s apartment hiding from the world?”

Killian shrugged and tipped his head back to stare up at the gathering clouds. “Found myself out too much, drinking too much, and living with a woman who I hadn’t meant to move in with. All of it seemed easier than facing a life without my wife, my Milah. Until suddenly it wasn’t.”

In his periphery he could see Emma drop her camera back to her lap and turned to face him. “The art director for my shoot was the woman who had been sleeping with my boyfriend – my ex – for months before I found out. I didn’t know her name and somehow she hadn’t realized who I was when she booked me. Let’s just say her reaction when I showed up on set was memorable.”

He glanced over to her, offering a small, crooked smile. “We’re a right pair, aye, love?”

Emma laughed and picked up her coffee. “Apparently.”

Their walk back to the flat took longer than strictly necessary, Emma pulling him into an alcove of what looked to be a long abandoned building. He could feel his giddy teenage self once again bubble to the surface as their tongues wrapped around one another’s, and he gripped her ass to pull her closer to him as she moaned and ground against him. One hand drifted to the front of her jeans and he was sorely tempted to pop them open, to bring her off with his fingers right there, neighbors and passing strangers be damned.

But he stopped and let out a long breath.

“Let’s get back to the apartment,” she whispered before leaning back in and nipping at his lip.

He nodded and followed as she ducked back onto the street. Yet, they stopped twice more along the way back to Liam’s, heated glances and purposeful, teasing touches proving a distraction to their goal.

“When are you leaving?”

It was long past twilight and Killian stared out at the twinkling lights of the city as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled Emma closer to his chest.

Her hand dropped to his arm, her fingers teasing at the hair there. “I’ve a job tomorrow, head out the next morning.”

“Where to?”

“Back to New York for a few days and then out to LA for a few weeks. Don’t remember what my agent booked after that.”

“Always this busy?”

She shrugged and reached back, drawing his leg up over hers. “Comes and goes. What are your plans?”

“Not sure,” he said, following her lead and hooking his foot at her ankle, using the leverage to draw her leg back to open her to him.

“Think I’ll stay here until Liam returns. We haven’t seen much of one another since he moved.”

She hummed and covered his hand with hers, gently coaxing him down between her thighs. He smiled as he complied, kissing the back of her head. He stopped just out of reach and leaned in to ghost a kiss along her ear.

“May I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

She turned her head to catch his eye as she reached up to thread her fingers in his hair. “I’d like that,” she said before giving a pointed roll of her hips.

Dinner turned into the two of them raiding Liam’s good stash of wine, which turned into the two of them panting against the back of the couch before eventually making it to the bedroom.

By the time Killian woke, though, Emma was already gone. A book of walking tours through Istanbul was on the bedside table with a note tucked beneath its front cover.

Be well, Killian, and thank you.

By the time Liam returned Killian was still there and had made his way through half of those walking tours. And while he didn’t ask too many questions, Killian suspected Liam knew all that had transpired between him and Emma.

“Will you be staying, brother?” Liam asked him that night as he cleaned up their dishes from dinner.

Killian handed him the last of the pots and nodded. “For at least a while longer.”

Liam gave him a smile. “Good.”

Killian stood in the small flat his new job secured for him – one bedroom, blank, white walls, and a pile of cardboard boxes greeting him. It wasn’t much, but would do until he could find something on his own. When he upended his carry-on bag, dumping its contents on the couch, an envelope he didn’t remember packing fluttered to the top of the pile. Opening it, he found a brief note in Liam’s cramped handwriting.

I’ve been holding this for a year, since that first night I returned to Istanbul. She said I should give you this when you were ready. I probably should have months ago, when you first mentioned looking for work in the States. Forgive me that I didn’t.

Below it was a string of numbers, the first few digits matching those of the mobile number work had provided for him so he’d have a Stateside number.

He didn’t hesitate in pulling said mobile from his pocket, typing out a brief message and hitting send.

Hello, love.

The familiar, wanted three dots popped up almost immediately.

Still not your love. :p

+++

Tagging those who asked or expressed interested in the full version: @killians-dimples, @katie-dub, @lenfaz, @galadriel26, @fairytalesandtimetravel, @lillyanjones, @justanotherwannabeclassic,& @roseyflush.

#cs ff #cs au #captain swan #cssv #cs secret valentine #my ff ouat

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legolaslovely · 5 years ago

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A Fair Rose Part 2

A/N: Hello! I have been so excited to post this Part 2 for you guys. This story is based on this imagine from @imaginexhobbit and includes the song I’d Pluck a Fair Rose from the show Poldark because I’m obsessed. I really hope you guys enjoy.

Pairing: Kili x Reader

Word Count: 1,872

Warnings: none, fluff

Summary: Kili does his best be charming and capture the heart of his new love, but will his troublesome ways get in the way?

Part 1

Kili stood in front of a dirty mirror, braiding his hair and trying to ignore his brother dancing around him.

“Oh, my dear, sweet love, (Y/N)!” Fili sang, kissing his own hand in jest. “I will see you in a week’s time. Let me sit and listen to the same incessant tunes over and over just so I can hear your beautiful song-bird like voice once more! And let me drag my brother with me! Oh, and please, my dear, sweet love, come to the ball in the dress delivered to you from an admirer. Here’s the secret! It’s me!”

Kili allowed his brother to mock him. He knew he had been acting sort of foolish and he was surely not himself when he was around you. Before he met you, he was not one for court concerts and definitely not one for balls. Tonight, he gladly accepted his uncle’s invitation to the party in the grand hall to celebrate the anniversary of Erebor’s reclamation. It was true, he had sent you a dress and an invitation with the hopes of seeing you in an environment other than the court concerts.

“Oh, (Y/N), will I ever tell you of my love for you? How I’m so infatuated with you? Probably not!” Fili continued.

“Why do you think I invited her to the ball?” Kili grumbled, securing his braids with a leather band.

Fili spoke over him. “(Y/N)! Maybe after I assist you with your harp, I can assist you in taking off all those clothes?”

Kili wacked him hard. “Shut it! Don’t talk about her that way, you can be heard through the mountain.”

“All right, all right,” Fili said, sitting on the edge of the bed and catching his breath. “But I swear to Mahal, if you don’t tell her tonight, I will.”

Kili fastened his robes on his shoulders. “I’m going to tell her. I just… need to choose how.”

“Don’t you think she already has the idea? You’ve gone to every one of her concerts for two months now, always requesting that song she sings. That dopey look you get makes your feelings pretty obvious.”

“There is no dopey look.” He sighed. “Even if she does suspect, she hasn’t said anything.” He fiddled with his robe, pulling the ties in his fingers and staring at the mirror.

Fili grabbed his brother’s thin coronet of silver and sapphires and placed it on his head. “Well, it wouldn’t make a good impression if you were late.” He led the way through the corridors to the grand hall. Before the guards opened the tall wooden doors, he said with a smirk. “Who knows, she might pick me instead.”

Kili mocked him in deep voiced gibberish and pushed Fili’s shoulder, sending him falling into the hall. They continued to elbow each other until they reached the high table and Thorin growled at them to stop. With the new vantage point, Kili searched the floor for you and his stomach dropped when he didn’t see your bright smile.

“She’ll be here,” Fili said.

Kili slumped in his chair and twirled the strings of his robe in his fingers, his gaze glued to the door. It seemed like song after song passed. He ignored the many dams sending smiles and winks his way, passing it off as if he thought they were trying for Fili’s attention. He grumbled and gripped the arms of his chair before standing with a huff. “Seems we were both wrong, brother. I’ll not be tortured another moment, I’m leaving.”

“Take this,” Fili said, handing him a goblet of port. After Kili drank, he said, “Now, look.”

Kili whirled and looked to the doors of the hall. There you stood as if light from the heavens shone on you.

“There’s that dopey look,” Fili said.

Kili threw the empty goblet into his brother’s lap and flew down the steps to the floor, rushing to you through countless calling dams. He didn’t notice any of them.

You were looking around as if lost when he came into view. He halted before you, pushing his hair out of his eyes and smiling. “(Y/N),” he said. “Welcome.”

Before you could reply, a dashing server appeared next to you offering you both some drink. Kili took one for you, placing it in your trembling fingers, and another for himself, though you never saw him take a sip of it.

He noticed your wide eyes surveying the hall as you drank. “It looks much different with all the tables and decorations,” he said.

You swallowed hard, gathering yourself. “Very different. It’s always beautiful, but tonight…”

“Much like you. Always beautiful, but tonight… breathtaking.” He stopped his eyes from traveling down your frame. He wanted so much to take in the way you looked in the dress he had had made for you, but he didn’t ever want to make you uncomfortable. He wondered if you noticed how your gown matched his robes.

Again, your gaze flashed to the ground, but a bashful smile pulled at your lips. “Thank you, Prince Kili.”

“Please. Just Kili.”

Since you entered the hall, nothing registered in his mind but you. Not the music, nor the dwarfs surrounding you, nor his brother’s prying eyes from the high table. Presently, he heard the elegant music of the band start to play. “I know you’ve just arrived, but would you like to dance?”

You nodded excitedly, pumping more courage into him. He took your glass and then your hand, leading you to the middle of the floor. He stood across from you and bowed, feeling his heart thrash with anticipation. He tried hard to remember the steps he had been practicing with Fili for the past few days.

He circled you, looking down at you on his right shoulder and then parted from you. Step in, step out. This was easier than he thought. Then he looked at you. Your hair was beautifully braided, cascading off your shoulders, tied with a ribbon that matched your gown. He stepped left instead of right and ran into the dwarf on his side. You didn’t laugh at him, only smiled encouragingly. Step in.

“I can’t tell you how strange it is to be dancing instead of playing,” you said, nodding towards the musicians on the stage.

“I hope I haven’t pulled you away from your passions,” he said when you met again.

You circled him. “Oh, no, Pr- Kili. I’m having a lovely time here with you.”

He felt his grin reach his ears.

“When I first received your invitation, I was frantic because I had nothing to wear. Then this stunning gown arrived from a secret sender. Do you know anything about it?”

His grin faltered. “No, I-I do not.”

“Well, whoever sent it is very generous indeed. I wonder how they knew I should like to wear your colors.”

He froze, causing the next dwarf in line to crash into him. He tripped over his own foot, then thankfully, the music stopped. He bowed to you again, kissing your hand, then excused himself. He ran up to Fili and pulled him out into the kitchen corridor.

“What?! What is it? I thought you were having a good time!” Fili yelled, pulling his arm out of his brother’s harsh grip.

��She knows,” Kili said.

“That you’re obsessed with her?”

“She knows about the dress, Fili.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No! Yes. I don’t know.”

There was bustling around them, dams and dwarfs of the kitchen shooting them troublesome looks. A night of a ball was not the time for the princes to be scheming.

“What do I do?” Kili asked, exasperated.

“Tell her that you’re obsessed with her?”

“Will you stop?! I’m not obsessed with her! What if she ever hears you saying that? My chance will be destroyed,” Kili shouted.

“But you are obsessed with her.” Fili smirked hard.

“No, I’m not!” Kili reached for a passing cart of food and grabbed a fist full of mashed potatoes, chucking them in his brother’s face. “Just because I have someone and you don’t doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk!”

“Oh? Do you have her?” Fili asked wiping the food from his beard. “Because last time I checked, she’s in there alone with a hundred dwarfs chasing after her!” He wiped the potatoes on Kili’s robes, smearing them into the fabric. Then, he stole a plate from the table and dumped it over his brother’s shoulders.

Kili continued to throw food at his brother, using a plate as a shield. “I come out here for advice and you throw food at me?”

“You started it!” Fili yelled.

“You’re the older brother! You’re supposed to help me!”

“How am I supposed to help some lovesick fool who can’t even form a sentence around- (Y/N)! Hello.”

Kili whipped around to see you standing there, food flying from his hair. “(Y/N)! I-I’m, I’m so sorry,” he stammered as Fili stuck a napkin in his hands and took the plate from him. He wiped the food from his face. “I’m so sorry, I’ve- I’ve ruined everything.”

“Don’t worry, (Y/N), we’ll clean him up and he’ll be back at the ball in a moment,” Fili said, picking food from his brother’s hair and brushing slop from his shoulders. “This is all my fault, really, I must apologize-”

“No, don’t,” Kili said, setting his brother aside. “It’s my fault. I’ve completely ruined the evening, I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing is ruined,” you said.

“But I-’

“Kili, I’m not upset with you.” You wore a sweet smile on your face that he couldn’t help returning. “If I was, it would be about you not being yourself with me, not the food fight with your brother.”

He wrung the soiled napkin in his fists and his head fell. “You see right through me, huh? I wanted to be better for you, more… princely. Charming.”

“You couldn’t be more charming,” you said, chuckling when he looked up at you with wide, warm eyes. “I’ve heard many stories about the silly princes. Your schemes and tricks, but also your kindness and tender hearts. That’s the Kili I wish to know.”

“You knew of me before you came here?”

“Of course. You’re the prince. I dare say you stole my heart before I even stepped foot in Erebor.”

He stared at you, his countenance soft and at length he said, “Well then, I hope you will save a dance for me at the next ball.” He reeked of food and had all kinds of treats caked into his clothes. But somehow, he looked more handsome than ever.

You reached for him and untied the sopping robes from his shoulders. “There’s no reason you can’t have the next one.”

You slung the clothing over the cleared table and he rushed to take off his soiled vest, leaving only his clean tunic in place. He held out his hand and gripped yours tightly, twirling you before pulling you in close. You leaned your head on his shoulder and let him rock you to the silence. Then he broke it, softly humming the song he first heard you sing in the great hall.

“I’d a pluck a fair rose for my love…”

#kili #kili x reader #kili fic #kili fanfic #kili fluff #kili fanfiction #fluff #the hobbit #the hobbit fandom #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fic #lotr #lotr fandom #lotr fanfic #lotr fic #lotr fanfiction #kili x dwarf!reader

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mylittledragonhoard · 8 years ago

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Fic: Inconvenient Timing

A Gathering FiKi Kink Bingo Response: Alpha/Omega

Part 1 - Scent

Pairing: FiKi

Prompt: Alpha/Omega

Additional Kinks: Doggystyle but it’s not counting toward a my bingo card

Triggers: None (If I have missed any, please let me know.)

Additional Pairings: None

For weeks the sounds of hammers and shifting rock had echoed through Erebor's halls as its citizens worked hard to fix the destruction caused by the dragon.

Kili felt antsy as he hauled another load of rubble to the area where it was being dumped, his senses having been heightened that morning upon waking. His brother, who normally slept next to him, had been nowhere to be seen, and it wasn't until Kili caught a whiff of a lingering scent that he understood why.

His One had started his heat already and in turn Kili's body was responding to that of his other half.

Before he could find his uncle and explain, he was dragged away to help with construction of the mountain.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, caused not only by the hard work but also the rolling want and almost need that was growing harder and harder to ignore the longer he was away from Fili. He planned to slip away as soon as he could, and luckily his chance came when two dwarves began an argument. Tensions ran high between alphas normally, but having been stuck so close together with the scent of an omega in the air, it was almost unbearable.

He slipped away unnoticed, though was sure it wouldn't be for long. Fili was the only omega within the mountain until the rest of their people arrived, and most everyone knew that Kili was his mate. It wasn't hard to put together.

Once the battle had been won, the injured had been tended and the dead had been mourned. Construction had started slowly with the help of Dain and many of his dwarves, first cleaning out safe rooms to stay in before tackling the main passageways, which was where Kili had just snuck away from.

Now he wandered through winding passageways that he had yet to explore, knowing that an omega in heat would look for a quiet place and away from so many alphas. Though these halls were strange to Kili, he didn't need a map. He simply followed that scent he knew so well, letting it lead him down staircases and past twists and turns, growing stronger and stronger until he came to a small room tucked away at the end of an abandoned hallway.

As he rounded the corner into the room where the scent was most potent, all thoughts screeched to a halt and all blood headed south at the sight of Fili. In his desperation, the elder dwarf had stripped out of his clothes and was lying naked with his back pressed against the cold stone floor, knees bent and legs opened in a rather delicious looking invitation. One arm was thrown over his eyes, lips parted as harsh pants were forced from his lungs. The other hand was wrapped around the swollen cock between his legs, short, thick fingers stripping the length gracelessly in an attempt to find satisfaction.

A lone lamp sitting on the floor, most likely having been dropped there, was the only light in the room, and its flame reflecting off of Fili’s thighs.

Even just the idea of his brother being so far gone that he was already so wet was enough to make Kili groan and squeeze the tent in his own trousers.

"Unless you're my mate, then fuck off." Fili panted heavily, voice almost hoarse with desire and need. He wasn't as far gone then, not if he could still speak coherently. The arm across his face moved so he could see, "Oh, it's you. I suppose you'll do." His eyes caught the light and Kili could see the glint within them that had nothing to do with the lantern.

"I'll do?" The brunet snorted as he stepped into the room, instincts screaming at him to claim what belonged to him, to give Fili want he wanted – what he needed. "I think you'll find that my cock is the only one that can satisfy you, Ghivasheluh." He replied smoothly even as he began to strip out of his clothing to join the naked dwarf, slowing his movements when he noticed Fili's eyes staring at him hungrily and watching his every movement.

"Well it’s not doing its job right now, now is it?" Fili snapped, almost snarling. The effect was ruined by the pleading whimper that escaped him immediately after.

"Patience, Fee. You're the one who disappeared without warning me, and then led me on this merry chase." Instead of making a pile of his clothes, or throwing them anywhere he pleased like Fili had apparently done, Kili arranged them across the dusty floor.

"Needed to leave." The blond gasped out, arching into his fist as he tightened his grip, eyes glued to Kili though they wanted to flutter closed. "There are too many alphas we don't know." He confessed.

Kili couldn’t argue. They didn't know the dwarves of Dain's army, and though they were good warriors, that didn't automatically make them trustworthy. Especially not when it came to the heir of the newly reclaimed Erebor while he was in a state like this.

"Fair enough, brother. I understand your need to get away." Kili soothed softly as he knelt at the edge of the little bed he'd made, "Come here. We don't have much with my scent on it, but I've been working all morning while you've had your fun." He smirked a little at the sight of a glare being pointed at him, "It should be strong thanks to the sweat."

It took great effort for Fili to peel himself off the cool floor and situate himself across Kili's clothing instead. He lay there for the moment and inhaled the musky scent from Kili's shirt. Being surrounded by the familiar and comforting smell was something he had been craving as all omegas did. Despite all his teasing and mock complaints about missing clothes, Kili knew his scent was something Fili enjoyed having around him. The blond was forever swiping an article of clothing that Kili would only get back when his smell had faded.

Fili's movement stirred his own scent, and it hit Kili's senses hard, almost stunning the archer with its strength, "Mahal Fee. I could devour you, you smell so good." The brunet moaned out, hand squeezing Fili's thigh before slipping between them and dipping low until his fingertips brushed against Fili's slick hole. Even that small caress had the blond arching high with a needy cry, hands clenching in the clothing beneath him.

"You're so wet for me." One of Kili's fingers easily sipped passed the ring of muscle, aided by the amount of slick Fili had already produced. "Fuck...already so loose too." There was no resistance with the first finger so he tried two, finding only a little resistance this time. "Have you been fingering yourself waiting for me?" Kili nuzzled his stubble against Fili's knee even as he curled his fingers and tugged on the rim.

Fili all but screamed, body tensing at the sensation, thighs quivering and his cock bobbing freely now that his hands were gripping the clothes. "A-a little." Fili admitted breathlessly, but it was clear conversation was above him for the moment, eyes closed as he concentrated on the sensations of Kili's fingers inside him. "It wasn't enough. Azyungal, please. Need you inside me." Muscles clenched around Kili fingers in hopes of enticing him to get on with it.

"Patience, Ghivasheluh. I'll take care of you." Kili cooed, grinning as he felt the muscles around his fingers tighten. He trailed a third finger around the tense rim, pushing it in to join the other two before slowly spreading all three of them.

Fili gasped, legs pushing open a little more as he attempted to thrust down to push them farther inside him. "Don't Ghivasheluh me! Mahal, you're not taking care of me you tease! Just stick your dick in and fuck me!" He actually whined, though it melted into a loud moan as Kili thrust his fingers deeper, searching for that spot that he knew would drive Fili mindless with need.

He knew he found it when his brother's hips jerked and that blond head began to thrash side to side. Kili watched Fili, completely entranced as he continued to rub over the gland hidden within the scorching heat.

Fili's face was flushed, eyes closed tightly and mouth open as he rode wave after wave of mind numbing pleasure. His trembling body was covered in a light sheen of sweat that made him glow in the lantern light, making him look more golden than all the treasure in the mountain.

Clear liquid dribbled from the tip of his cock, running along the swollen shaft to gather in the hair on his belly. Kili's mouth watered as the sight, and he didn't bother holding back. He shifted forward as his fingers continued to abuse Fili's sweet spot and closed his mouth around the tip.

"Kee!" Fili shrieked in surprise, hips rolling up into that heat. Kili was ready for it and swallowed around the shaft in his mouth, moaning when he recognized the taste on his tongue. Fili had used his own slick as lubricant, and the thought and taste made Kili hard and hot.

"Kee. Azyungal. Please." There was a weak tugging in his hair, fingers curling in the dark strands and trying to decide to pull or to pet. "Knot me. I need it." Fili whimpered, sobbing as Kili's fingers continued to prod and stroke inside him.

The alpha relented and pulled back, tightening his lips around Fili's cock as he went, suckling on just the tip for a moment more, pressing the end of his tongue into the slit and lapping up the salty taste of his One.

Fili keened loudly, fingers tightening in the strands and pulling in utter desperation, and when Kili finally pulled off and looked at his brother's face, he could see the tears rolling from the corners of his eyes and into his hair. He crawled up Fili's body using one arm, the fingers of the other moving away from that gland until they were simply stretching him a little more. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against Fili's, eyes open and watching as they shared each breath. He could barely see the blue in the eyes looking back at him as Fili's pupils were blown wide.

They were both silent except for the occasion whimper or moan as Kili worked Fili open. He could feel that the clothing beneath Fili's hips was growing a little damp. The idea of putting them back on when they were finished and having Fili's scent so close made Kili's cock twitch against the blond's hip. It wasn't like he could walk back through the halls naked after all.

Finally satisfied, Kili finally slipped his fingers out, and despite his pleading before, Fili made an unhappy noise at their loss.

"Shh." Kili pressed a kiss to those moist lips. "I got you." He promised, trailing his slick hand along Fili's side.

The blond either didn't notice or didn't care as the action caused a shudder to shake his frame, his fingers loosening from Kili's hair as he nodded wordlessly.

"Get on your knees, Ghivasheluh." Kili ordered gently, trailing his lips down Fili’s neck and pressing little kisses along his collar bone.

Fili preferred face to face, and they'd do it that way later when his need flared up again. For right now, his One moved without argument, unsteadily and with Kili's help.

"You're absolutely stunning." Kili murmured as he ran his fingers through the gold strands cascading down Fili's back, hair damp with sweat along with the rest of him. His fingers trailed down Fili's spine, eyes roaming the broad shoulders and muscles that moved beneath, shifting down lower until he could see the round globes of that ass. He gave into the urge to squeeze them, grinning at the moan Fili made as he fell forward onto his hands, tilting his hips up and presenting himself for Kili in a way that made Kili throb.

"Fuck." The brunet hissed under his breath, inhaling the sweet heavy scent that his brother exuded. He parted the cheeks in his hands and watched as Fili's hole clenched around nothing even as the movement of muscles caused a trickle of slick to ooze out.

"Kee." Fili murmured.

"Right here." Kili promised, pressing his finger sideways against the spot behind Fili's heavy stones and swiping up to gather the slick.

Fili mewled at the sensation, hips wiggling a little even within Kili's grip. Kili didn't waste any more time as he stroked the slick over his own cock, heavy with want, and guided himself to Fili's entrance.

His brother was tense with anticipation, body completely still as Kili pressed the head of his cock against him. He cried out when Kili pressed forward, the brunet watching the way the rim of Fili's hole stretched open for him. The warmth was amazing, and Kili grunted out a low groan as he watched himself sink into his brother's pliant body.

Fili only stayed still long enough for their hips to meet, then he was rocking forward before pushing back to spear himself on Kili's cock.

Grabbing him by the hips put Kili in control once more, and the alpha couldn't help but grin at the noise of frustration that Fili released. "Such a slut for my cock." Kili teased as he pulled away slightly, eyes glued to the spot where they were joined and groaning at the slickness that covered his shaft. He pushed forward again, "Mahal, Fili. I wish you could see how your hole stretches around me. It feels like you're trying to swallow me with the way you keep clenching." Kili allowed his head to fall back and his eyes to close as he set a rather slow pace so he could savour the sensations of Fili squeezing around him.

"Harder, Kili. Please!" Fili clawed at the very stone beneath them, voice completely wrecked. "I need-"

"I know what you need." Kili snapped his hips forward, skin slapping against Fili's with a sharp sound and an equally sharp sting. It jerked a desperate sound from Fili's mouth and all the blond could do was spread his legs a little more to keep balance. "You'll get it when I'm ready to give it." Kili promised, slowing down once again, "I'm going to fuck you hard and fast until you're screaming my name and everyone in this mountain knows exactly how I please you."

Fili whined, but had to accept what Kili was willing to give him. The brunet didn't want it over so quickly and kept the steady pace with only a few adjustments to his speed to keep Fili interested and on edge. He allowed his hands and lips to roam instead, kissing and nibbling marks along Fili spine, while his hands reached around Fili's chest and teased his nipples until they were hard and sensitive.

Kili didn't know how long had passed, but Fili only seemed to be making incoherent noises, constantly whimpering out Kili's name and occasionally able to beg for it harder. "Alright, Ghivasheluh." Kili purred as his long fingers curled around Fili's cock. The flesh was hot and leaking, creating another mess on Kili's already ruined clothes. Kili wasn't going to last much longer either. He could feel his stones drawing up tighter against his body and the knot Fili wanted inside him so much had already begun to swell.

Fili gasped harshly as Kili loosely stroked him. It wasn't enough pressure to get him off, but any touch to the sensitive skin sent electricity crackling along his nerve endings. His arms and legs were shaking, but he braced himself as much as he could.

Kili gave him only a moment to steady himself as he pulled out until just the head of his cock was left inside Fili, before snapping his hips forward again, driving hard and thrusting deep enough into the willing body that his knot was squeezed passed Fili's ring.

Fili's shout echoed around the stone room, and his arms gave out on him as he fell forward, cheek pressed against the wrinkled mess of Kili's shirt. The new angle of his body made him tighter, and they moaned together on the next thrust in. Fili mewled loudly as Kili's knot had grown enough to catch on his rim whenever he pulled out and pushed in.

The alpha continued the brutal pace, panting in time with the wet slapping sounds of his thighs against Fili's. His One was a babbling mess and the only word Kili could understand falling from his lips was his name.

A tingle at the base of his spine alerted Kili of his impending climax, and his next thrust was the one that locked him in place, Fili's body gripping him tightly.

The head of his cock must have nestled right against Fili's gland because the next thing Kili knew was his brother arching up screaming, dick swelling in Kili's grip before he felt the flood of warm come across his fingers.

"That's it baby." Kili murmured, teeth grazing across Fili's back as he stroked his omega to completion, Fili's inner muscles working Kili at the same time and seeming to draw his orgasm from him. Kili came with a shout, though not near as loud as Fili had been, his teeth sinking into the skin of a shoulder as his body jerked, rocking himself deeper as he emptied himself inside his mate.

They sank down against their makeshift bedding together, Kili carefully curling around Fili's limp body and tucking his brother against his chest and under his chin. He loved being the taller one for a lot of reasons, but this one was his favourite.

Settled for the moment, Kili closed his eyes for a few seconds as he basked in the tingly sensation of floating. He could still feel Fili's muscles twitching as they squeezed around him. Kili supposed it should have been uncomfortable, having sensitive parts of him stimulated, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. Curious, the arm Fili wasn't resting on snuck down between them and traced the area where they joined.

An almost violent shudder jerked Fili’s form, "Kee..." It was soft and small and sounded absolutely shattered.

Kili pulled his hand away and used both arms to manoeuvre Fili so that the brunet could see his face. His eyes were glazed over, pupils still huge, and his eyelashes glistened with tears. He smiled when Kili nuzzled against his cheek, inhaling the mixtures of scents that were plastered all over them both. "We have a while, I think. You should sleep." Kili murmured against a fuzzy cheek.

Fili hummed, breathing slowly returning to normal. "I didn't bring a blanket." He slurred sluggishly.

"I'll keep you warm, Fee." Kili promised quietly, keeping his arm beneath Fili's head for a pillow and wrapping the other around his omega's middle and holding him tightly against his front. Fili was still running hot and would be for a while. They probably weren't going to need a blanket. "I told you, I'll take care of you."

The elder was quiet for a moment before he let out a soft huff of laughter, "You do that well." He promised but was interrupted by a yawn. Kili could only imagine how long Fili had been down here before he found him, but knew it was a while considering how worked up he'd been.

"Of course I do." Kili kissed Fili's cheek, "Now shut up and go to sleep or you'll be too exhausted for round two."

Fili retaliated by tensing the muscles around Kili as tight as he could, surprising a gasp out of the brunet who wasn't expecting it. "Fuck." He buried his face in Fili's shoulder, wheezing in air as he tried not to rock against Fili's ass. Whoever thought the alpha was in charge, clearly didn’t know what they were talking about.

He could feel his brother's smirk being pressed into the arm beneath Fili's head, followed by an apologetic kiss. "Love you, Kee." Fili murmured as he settled down and slowly relaxed.

"Love you too." Kili grinned against the back of Fili neck, inhaling the smells of sweat, come, and the scent that was unique to the golden dwarf.

A hum was his only response this time.

---

Azyungal – Love of all loves

Ghivasheluh – treasure of treasures

#GatheringKB #my writing #I’ve never written an alpha/omega trope before #I hope it was acceptable #Smut is not my forte #endings are also not my forte #or titles #inconvenient timing

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