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siilvan · 1 year ago

Note

Could you please write a platonic fic with reader and Nikolai? Maybe with a little bit of peril involved so they are both worried for each other?

crash site

characters: nikolai

summary: after your pilot crashes in the middle of a war zone while trying to extract you, a reverse rescue mission ensues.

genre: general, gn!reader (bravo 0-5; no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, mild descriptions of injuries, inaccurate medical care, nik and reader get hurt, mutual worrying, i wrote this w/ a migraine i’m sorry

word count: 3.2k

note: anon i hope you know i love you for requesting something that i already sorta wanted to write

also so sorry this took so long, i hope you enjoy <3

you instinctively raise your gun when a bullet flies past and pierces the half-destroyed concrete wall just in front of you. various shouts in a language you can’t understand soon follow, and your heart races as you spin around to confront the enemy.

the mission was supposed to be simple. get into the city, take out the target, and get out without being compromised.

the first two objectives went without any trouble, but your escape was compromised the second the target’s body hit the ground. that’s how you ended up in this situation - with a single magazine in your gun, a city of armed men pursuing you, and no signs of backup in sight.

not to mention the approaching sandstorm, you mentally add to the list, blinking back tears as rough grains of sand whip around and obscure your vision.

you manage to take out the group actively giving chase, which then leads to your next problem: you’ve completely run out of ammo. even your sidearm was emptied as you fought through the small militia, and you lament the speech that price is going to give you about "being prepared" once you make it out.

vaulting over the short wall brings you to a city square. you crouch low near a stack of crates and building supplies, hoping that the chaos of the situation and the sandstorm would mask your presence to the various search parties nearby. you scan the area for any weapons while moving undercover; the last thing you need is to be caught without a way to defend yourself.

if you had a nickel for every time things did not go to plan today, you’d be rich enough to retire. a yell and a bullet landing near your feet signaled that, despite your best efforts, one of the parties spotted you.

you rise to your feet and lift your hands, praying that a surrender would buy you some time. the square fills up, and soon you’re stuck in place as several dozen guns are pointed right at you. there was no way you’d be getting out of this, even if you did miraculously find a weapon during your brief search.

the apparent leader of the group steps toward you, repeating some command - or, perhaps a question, you couldn’t tell - while the others slowly form a half-circle around you. several of the soldiers look antsy, hands twitching as they adjust their grips and rest their fingers against the trigger, like they were just waiting for an excuse to open fire. your stomach churns at the thought of someone getting a little too anxious.

your radio suddenly crackles to life for the first time since you confirmed the target’s death. at the same moment, a distant silhouette in the sky catches your eye. you focus on it and squint, trying to make it out through the ever-increasing cloud of sand, before a familiar voice catches your attention.

"0-5, get down!"

before you can even register who the voice belongs to, you follow the order and drop to your knees. the sound of heavy gunfire surrounds you immediately after, forcing you to lift your hands in an attempt to protect your head as every other person in the city square was gunned down. you bite back a panicked noise when the men closest to you are dispatched, worrying that whomever was in control would accidentally hit you, as well.

when the dust settles, both literally and figuratively, you cautiously lower your hands and lift your head again, scanning the area once more.

as expected, every soldier around you laid dead. some laid on their stomachs due to the unexpected ambush, others were on their backs after attempting to confront the source. your eyes flicked back to the sky, towards the silhouette you had seen before.

even through the sand and dust, you could make out the all-too familiar helicopter hovering near your position. it was a little unsteady, clearly a victim of the intense wind and debris in the air, but you grinned at the sight nonetheless.

"ace shots, nikolai." you let out a relieved laugh after reaching for your radio. "i’m surprised you can fly in these conditions."

"not for long, so let’s make this quick," he says, and you watch as the chopper attempts to land on one of the nearby roofs. "the storm will be here any minute. seems like i got here just in time, no?" he adds with a smug chuckle.

"i’ll be sure to send a thank-you card after this!" you huff and rush to the building he was landing on. for the first time today, things seem to be going according to plan; a ladder inside leads directly to the roof, which you quickly ascend with renewed vigor, and wait impatiently for the chopper to touch down.

you aren’t sure why, but a wave of cold dread washes over you once you reach the rooftop. your attention shifts from your escape to the nearby buildings and streets as you give your surroundings a once-over. surely it’s just adrenaline, you tell yourself.

you spot a figure in the window of a house just a block away. they’re kneeling behind the edge, eyes trained in your direction, pointing something directly at the building you were standing on top of. you stare at the mysterious object in their hands, until they carefully shift their aim a little higher. directly at nikolai, you realize just a second too late.

"watch out–!" you frantically shout into your radio. even if the weapon, which you now recognize as an RPG, hits the building and damages it, your chances of survival were far superior to nikolai’s own.

before your warning can reach him, however, a rocket is fired at the helicopter. you can only watch helplessly as it connects with the tail and sends the vehicle spiraling out of control. despite the damage, nikolai manages to maneuver it upwards while attempting to regain control. a second rocket is fired shortly after and hits the engine, stripping the pilot of any control as the vehicle practically falls from the sky. it crashes into the ground a decent distance away, and your stomach drops at the scene.

you scale the side of the building at breakneck speed and start towards the crash site, completely ignoring the eminent threat at your back as you pray for his safety. you didn��t care about empty guns, failed escapes, or compromised assassinations - you’d take a hundred of each before losing any of your teammates.

you’re swiftly given a cold reminder of your situation during your mad dash to nikolai. you duck into an alley and press your back against the wall as a team rushes down the street, no doubt heading to the same place as you. with a deep inhale, irritating your throat as sand and dust contaminates the air, you push off and follow their path.

come on, nik… you mentally beg the man. this is no way for you to die.

the combat knife tucked in your vest, your last line of defense, finds its home in the neck of one of the soldiers when you attack him from behind. you grab his rifle and dispatch the nearby soldiers, silently thanking the sandstorm for finally hitting the city in full force. it was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you, but such was the same for the enemy.

"0-5… can you hear me?" a strained voice comes through your radio and just barely cuts through the raging storm. nikolai. thank god.

"i hear you– nik, what’s your status?"

a pained grunt and the sound of creaking metal answers your question. "i don’t think we will be flying out of here–" he cuts himself off with a sharp hiss. "i’m not sure i can even stand."

"i’ll get us out of here," you tuck yourself into the shadows again as a patrol passes by, the lights on their guns permeating through the dust cloud and highlighting their position. "just stay put for now. get to cover if you can, i’m on my way."

"the enemy will have me surrounded within minutes, 0-5. you cannot fight a militia alone."

you click your tongue and shake your head from side to side, as if he could see you. "i’m not leaving you, nikolai. i’ll sooner drag you out by my teeth than abandon you." a stiff laugh and a muttered comment about your "stubbornness" was his only response.

the group that previously passed you was now stopped in an intersection, exchanging words with another small party. you squint at them and manage to count eight in total. difficult, but manageable. you had the benefits of stealth and surprise on your side, at the very least.

with a slow inhale and exhale, you open fire on the group. you take out two of them before the others start their search, frantically pointing their guns in every direction. once again, the lights gave away their positions; your rifle didn’t have a flashlight, allowing you to stay concealed as you picked the remaining members off one by one.

you reach for your radio again after you confirm the kills. "still doing okay?" you ask, continuing towards his location.

a second passes before you get a reply. "i am still alive, at the very least," nikolai grunts softly, and you recognize the sound of not-so-distant voices through his radio. "they haven’t found me yet. too worried about you to conduct a proper search, i assume."

"hopefully i can reach you, then. it’ll be difficult, but it’s not impossible to slip by." you notice the crash site after rounding a corner and running a few more blocks. it was yet another area that resembled a plaza, with several soldiers dotting both the inside and the outskirts.

"be careful." he speaks slowly, and you push down the worry that stems from his tone. instead, you try to reassure him. "always am, nik. just try to keep your blood in until we get out of here."

you approach the entrance and quietly dispatch the trio standing in your way. judging by the sounds of panic that followed, the gunshots weren’t entirely drowned out by the winds. that’s fine, you inwardly boast. even if they investigate the noise, they’ll come up empty-handed; you move on before the alarm is even raised. weaving through their sights is easy enough, thanks to the soldiers’ scattered and uncoordinated paths. nonetheless, you take out as many as you safely can.

before long, you come across debris from the crash, and you follow it until the main body of the helicopter is visible. you physically cringe at its ruined state until a whisper-shout of your name from somewhere nearby catches your attention. doing your best to follow it, you shove some metal scraps - hot to the touch, even through your gloves - out of the way.

you have to choke back a relieved sigh when you finally locate nikolai, leaning against more of the wreckage while clutching his side.

"never been so happy to see you," you chuckle and reach for his free hand. with a soft grunt of effort, you pull him to his feet and guide him to rest his weight against you. "i’ve got you, just lean on me."

"we need to hurry…"

nikolai’s words are brushed off by your gentle shushing as you make for an exit - easier said than done with the state he’s in. "i know, i know… we’re almost there, just need to get out in one piece."

"you don’t understand–"

his warning is cut off by bullets whizzing past your legs. you regret brushing him off as your adrenaline is sent into overdrive, and you practically carry him out of the plaza. you search for cover before your eyes settle on a small house with boarded windows; inconspicuous, but you really don’t want to back yourself into a corner.

an acute pain in your shoulder makes you reconsider the latter concern. you stumble forward, tightening your grip on nikolai as he nearly collapses from the sudden movement, and resign to your fate.

your lungs are burning by the time you reach the building. you shove the door open and haul the both of you inside before kicking it shut again. cautiously, you scan the interior, fingers twitching as you prepare to grab the rifle slung over your shoulder. the house was meager, you realize; a small sitting area bordered an even smaller dining room, with a modest kitchen that was surely emptied a long time ago.

you stagger to the torn-up sofa in the sitting area and maneuver nikolai to lay on his back, apologizing under your breath at every pained noise that left his lips. the rifle is leaned against the wall as you shove a tall wooden shelf across the room to block the front door, creating a decent barricade.

well, "decent" was a generous description. it would buy you a precious few seconds, at most.

the sharp pain in your shoulder bleeds into an agonizing throb from the effort, and you desperately try to shake off the feeling. your minor injury didn’t matter right now.

"we don’t have much time," you say while shifting your focus back to nikolai. "i’ll patch you up as much as i can. no point in escaping if you bleed out, yeah?" you add with a forced chuckle, trying to ease the both of you. the only interior doors lead to a bedroom and bathroom, and you search both for any supplies.

following the apparent theme of this mission, the only useful items you find are fabric, some foam, and a basic first-aid kit. the kitchen and dining room are equally as frugal, with a half-emtpy bottle of alcohol and a pair of small metal rods as your only rewards.

"you’re not a medic," nikolai says, staring at you from the corner of his eye while you gather the supplies on a nearby table. you huff and begin looking over his injuries. "it’s me, or a grave. pick your poison." you briefly meet his gaze and smile. he concedes and remains silent as you continue the examination.

considering what he had been through so far, his injuries were surprisingly minor. the worst of it was a laceration on his forearm and a fracture below his knee. there was also the bruised and broken ribs, but you couldn’t do anything about those. the smaller cuts just needed to be disinfected and bandaged, depending on the severity - all things that you were perfectly capable of doing.

despite the bad luck, you managed to gather just enough to make a splint for his leg. a shitty splint, but it’s better than nothing.

you start with the fracture, doing what you can to stop the bleeding and disinfect the wound. he hisses in pain when you try to move his leg to apply the padding, and you mumble another apology. the rest of the process goes as smoothly as it can, given the circumstances. you manage to make the splint and wrap his lower leg with the cloth you found, securing it in place.

after checking the splint, you move on to his arm. the first-aid supplies included a suture kit that you were already loathing having to use. your hands shake as you prepare it and clean the wound, taking a deep breath and internally recoiling at the scent of blood.

the stitching is about as torturous as you expected, for nikolai more than yourself. he is remarkably calm, though the occasional grunt or groan still escapes his tightly pressed lips. you finish the procedure as quickly as possible for his sake, tying the thread off and cleaning the area again before wrapping it in the leftover bits of cloth.

"it’s not much, but it’ll suffice for now." you send him another smile. he breathes deeply and nods his head, inspecting your work.

"you are a better medic than i thought," he confesses and nods again. "i’ll definitely put in a good word with the captain." he chuckles softly. his gaze shifts to you, and you’re reminded of your own injury.

before he can say anything, you stand up and grab your gun from its spot. "i’ll be fine. we’ve already spent too much time here, anyway." you sling it over your uninjured shoulder and head to the wall opposite of the front door. the planks boarding the windows were weather-damaged and easy enough to pull off. you detach one and peek through the gap.

the street was quiet, thankfully. the soldiers must have lost track of you after you ducked into the house - at least, that’s what you hoped for. further down the street, you spot a car. your escape.

"see anything?" nikolai asks. you turn back and hum affirmatively.

"there’s a car down the road. if it has fuel, we can drive out of here."

"the militia won’t follow us outside of the city."

you nod towards him. "exactly. i’ll head over and check it out."

nikolai jolts upwards, before grunting and clutching one of his various injuries. "you’re not heading out there alone. the enemy could easily ambush and overwhelm you like they did before."

"it’ll be far faster for me to look at it alone," you argue while pulling the other planks off the window frame. "you can’t walk on your own, let alone fight, nik. this is our only option."

you swing one leg over the edge of the window and shoot a glance towards him. "i promise i won’t be gone for long."

the storm immediately takes you off-guard again, and you clutch your weapon close as you jog towards the car. it was an all-terrain vehicle, left behind by one of the militia groups. you check the fuel gauge and sigh a breath of satisfaction at the half-full tank of gas. best of all, the keys were left in the ignition.

must’ve abandoned it during one of the skirmishes, you think. those weren’t so unlucky, after all.

you head back to the house and find nikolai trying to lift himself from the sofa. "so impatient," you comment, pulling his arm over your shoulders and offering yourself as a support once more. "seems like the car is going to work. just a little further, nik."

he mutters something in russian that you assume is positive, based on his relieved tone, as the two of you head for the exit. both of you stumble towards the car together, fighting against the storm and your own exhaustion that is slowly but surely creeping in, ignoring the painful ache that plagues you from head to toe.

you get nikolai settled in the passenger’s seat before circling the hood and turning the keys in the ignition. the vehicle sparks to life, and every horrible twist and turn is all but forgotten as you speed down the street. the edge of the city isn’t terribly far from your current location, you can make it.

"it’s funny," you say, barely audible over the turbulent winds. "usually you are the one driving and saving our asses, but now the roles are reversed."

nikolai shakes his head. "one save does not make up for a hundred, 0-5. you still owe me." he replies with a self-satisfied grin, earning a frustrated curse from you as you cross the city border.

sure enough, the captain had his speech prepared before you even left the medical bay.

#call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod nikolai x reader #nikolai x reader #cod nikolai #sylph.writes

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neutron-stars-collision · 1 year ago

Text

Waiting for the Night

Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Chapter 19 - You'll be the promise, I'll be the scream

Masterlist; Chapter 18 Summary: The aftermath of Riddler's words. You're forced to face the fears and talk to Bruce. Neither of those is an easy feat... Warnings: 18+; tones of angst, R's internal crisis and... them smuts ✨ Author's Notes: Woo, she made it! Incredible! Outstanding achievement. Seriously, though, I know it's been a while. To compensate - this one is long. Like 10.7k long. And it's also explicit bc them idiots needed tension release of the traditional kind :))))) It's probably only one chapter and epilogue left now so... getting emotional. A little bit. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now... buckle up, 'kay? You're gonna needed. (I know they're idiots). Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Tag list: Tag list: @thecraziestcrayon, @kookiewastolen, @imimsy, @tuskens-mando, @sugarcoated-lame, @blue-aconite, @hypnoash, @rabbitdictionary, @nicklet94, @mcrmarvelloki, @shimmeringgrim, @ttae-yong, @freyadruid, @siriuslydestiny, @ms-dont-care, @raphaelaisabella, @itsmytimetoodream, @brightjimini, @castellandiangelo, @grunge-n-roses5 (let me know if you wanted to be removed/added).

(gif credit: @makoto-shinkai)

Returning to the Wayne Tower from Arkham felt like a fevered dream. You could barely remember how you got there from the street by your house where you had directed Gordon to drop you off. Only that no matter the distance from the prison, your heart did not get any lighter.

Riddler’s words still rang out loud and clear in your head, slowly driving you crazy. The tower was blessedly quiet and empty when you reached the study and collapsed into the armchair. One look at the phone screen and a quick read of the only text that awaited you confirmed the expected – Bruce was already out and would be back later. Probably much later. Which was good. The last thing you wanted was to be confronted by someone you could not lie to. All hopes shattered when Dory walked into the room not a quarter of an hour later.

It was easy to pretend then, quickly falling back into the role you knew well. You smiled when appropriate, forced down a meal that could not be contested and produced a lie that worked in your favour. Dory had no clue. It did not matter that your heart was breaking beneath the performance. You were stellar, as always.

It was a relief to have her retire to her room not long after you finished eating. You were finally alone. It was a no-brainer to turn down all the unnecessary lights and carry your stuff to your bedroom, closing the door behind your back. You got as far as sitting down at the foot of the bed when your brain caught up. The memories came rushing in, Riddler’s voice as clear as in that cell, taunting you just like he did. What if he was right? What if your father was a monster, and you were following in his footsteps? There were no answers. Frantic brain kept running through all the pieces you had ever written, quickly finding those Nashton could have meant. The times when you were relentless, pushed too far. The times when you should have stopped. The solution was simple – he was right.

The steady stream of tears rushed down your cheeks, smudging the mascara you had recklessly put on in the morning as you lied down on the covers and curled up. The weight on your chest was not going anywhere, making it hard to breathe. Near impossible to leave the spiral once you got absorbed in it. An endless onslaught of self-hatred poured out along with the quiet sobs that wrecked your frame. Each thought felt like your heart being ripped out, piece by piece. The smithereens bled onto the duvet as your mind circled back, time and time again, to that one idea.

The worst one of them all. The fear that you would hurt Bruce. That it was all you were capable of doing, destroying what you held dear. Perhaps it had already happened; the guillotine was let loose. About to slash your neck, once and for all. Maybe it would’ve been for the best.

After a while, the tears had dried out, the parched throat begging for a glass of water. But you did not want to move. Did not seem to have the strength to do so. Slowly, you raised your head enough to see the inky skies outside, for once free from rain clouds. The moon peered shyly into the room, painting the floor silver. The thoughts were still there. The pain had not left.

You were almost close to dozing off from exhaustion when faint creaks of the floorboards in the corridor outside made you open your eyes. Someone stopped right by your door, hesitating. Somehow, you knew who it was before they decided and pressed the handle. For a split second, you mourned that you had left the door unlocked. Then Bruce stepped inside, and all you could do was close your eyes against the sudden pinprick of pain in your chest. The silence was deafening. Almost enough to make you speak and answer the thousands of questions he seemed to have. You never got quite that far.

As if reading your mind, Bruce closed the door behind his back and slowly approached the bed. His body was tense, uncertainty visible in every move. You could only imagine what he saw when he came closer. You did not dare to move, passively staring at his approaching form until Bruce stopped two feet away from the bed and raised his head. Enough so you could see his expression. The haunting blue eyes were now flooded with concern and fear. Before you could dwell on what you saw, Bruce spoke:

“What happened?” his husky tone dripped with worry, making you wince from the sound alone.

But you did not feel like giving in to him just yet.

“You could’ve knocked, you know” aware of the tear tracks tainted with ink from the mascara on your cheeks, you did your best to glower at him.

Judging by the defeated look you got back, it was a futile attempt. Bruce took another step closer, visibly pondering whether he should sit next to your slumped form.

“Come on, don’t give me that. What happened?” his tone softened a notch, enough to make your heart pick up its pace.

And to make you sit up, silently offering space should he want it. Training your mind on the floor, you whispered:

“I met him” you could hear the unspoken question in the heavy silence, forcing you to add, quieter still, “Riddler,”

Bruce gasped as if he had been hit in the stomach.

“What? Why?” the disbelief in his voice made you look up.

Seeing the horror on his face as if he could not believe what he was hearing. It was enough to make shame bloom in the pit of your stomach, yet again making you wish you could disappear. But there was no divine intervention. No opening pit in the ground or a merciful hand to end it for you. As if subconsciously wanting to make the pain worse, you forced yourself to look him in the eye as you spoke:

“Because I wanted to. I was curious, so I asked Gordon to take me to him after the witness statement” as soon as the words were out, you could feel the tears welling up.

Because hearing it said like that spoke volumes about your idiocy. How it all could have been avoided if not for your lack of logic. It was not surprising to hear Bruce groan in response,

“Jesus Christ,” a muttered curse dropped from his lips as he covered his face with his hands for a beat, then raised it to fix you with a glare, “Why did you-”

Somehow you knew what was coming. And that you would not survive it if Bruce scolded you, pointing out all the ways you had fucked up and the reasons why you could never be enough. For him or anybody else. So, you interjected his incoming rant with the wavering voice:

“Please, don’t. I know it was stupid, and it definitely taught me a lesson” it was impossible to hide the pain from your tone, keen on getting the message, “So if you’re going to berate me, I’d rather you left” what was supposed to be a stern warning, never got that far.

Instead, the condition sounded weak, like a thinly veiled plea for mercy. And it was not wrong. To your immense surprise, it worked. Bruce visibly winced as his words seemed to catch up with him.

“God, no. I’m sorry” seeing immediate contrition felt good enough for you to nod your head in agreement to his silent question, allowing Bruce to sit down and finish the thought, “I just… What did he say to you?” he kept his distance yet the softness in his voice felt like a reassuring hand-squeeze.

You glanced at him, hoping to convey the gratitude. But even that was not enough to make you eager to tell the tale.

“Many, many things” a choice for the moment was a tentative opening.

A quick attempt at dodging the question if Bruce allowed you.

“I’ve got time,” he didn’t; leaning back a fraction to appear at ease.

To highlight that he wanted to hear it, that he had nothing else to do but listen to your sob story of naivety and stupid decisions. From the look in his eyes, you could tell you had no other choice. Letting out a sigh as a preamble, you shifted your gaze back onto the floor. You could already feel the familiar burn of tears.

“Um… in a nutshell, my father was a monster directly responsible for what happened to your mother. I’m exactly the same, devoted to the job so much that nothing else matters” you heard Bruce’s sharp breath intake but did not grant yourself the right to look at him, “He asked when am I going to destroy you and finish what my father started” the wobbling voice cracked as new tears streamed down your cheeks again, ever so eager to make an appearance; they forced out the most vulnerable of confessions you could give him then “The worst part is that I think he’s right” there it is, as always.

Without giving you time to dissolve into sobs that choked up your throat, Bruce moved, his careful fingers lifting your chin so he could lock his eyes with yours. There was no escape from his knowing stare as he delicately swept his thumb over your tear-streaked cheeks before dipping lower to trace your cupid’s bow. Unable to hold his tender gaze, you closed your eyes.

“He’s not,” the gentle whisper was filled with conviction.

But it was not enough to convince you. Not quite enough to stop the vicious thoughts.

“But-” your protest got silenced before you could get a word out.

As if knowing what you needed, Bruce leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your forehead before squeezing your hand with his unoccupied palm. Reluctantly you opened your eyes, realising the intended effect. He had your full attention.

“Listen to me. The point of that conversation was to rile you up. To make you believe those things and go insane because of them,” his firm tone captured your mind, as did the heat in his eyes, betraying the anger Bruce felt on your behalf, “He loved every second because this is what he does. He gets under your skin, feeds on guilt and insecurities and amplifies them” tangling his fingers with yours in what felt like second nature, Bruce allowed the passion give way to fondness, strengthening the message “But the main point is that it was all bullshit” on its own accord, your mouth twisted into a weak smile, triggered by something as unusual as hearing him curse “Nothing else” he finished the speech with another hand squeeze as he raised your joined hands to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.

The gesture, along with everything he said, made your head spin. The logical part of your brain knew Bruce was right. But it was a small fraction of an overall emotional consciousness, which would not be settled quite so easily. You hoped that perhaps the longer you stared into his eyes, the more convinced you would become.

Leaning into his palm that still cupped your cheek, you whispered a question:

“How can you be so sure?” one that you were scared to ask but still needed to know.

To understand what it was that Bruce saw, that you were blind to. Why he trusted you when he should not?

“Because I know you,” his confidence did not waver as he offered the response without hesitancy, “I know that you care about everyone around you, that you would do anything for those you hold dear. And that, above all, you’re a good person” Bruce concluded his speech with another kiss on your forehead, a rare sure smile hiding in the corners of his lips.

At once, the vicious voices in your head grew silent, emptying the space of all that was not affection and gratitude. Even if just for a moment. The prickling tears were not going anywhere as you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of Bruce’s hand clasping yours. For the first time during that long day, you felt the stifling weight lift off your chest.

“Shit, you’re going to make me cry, sweetheart” cracking a weak joke, you risked a glance at his reaction following the nickname.

Bruce grinned, no longer pretending to mask the fondness with an eye roll. Even with the haze of tiredness quickly descending over your head, you greatly appreciated the change. Enough so to creep a little closer still and lean your head on his shoulder, covertly inhaling the familiar scent of laundry detergent, expensive cologne and dampness of the terminus. A strange concoction that already felt like home, although you would never admit it.

“I mean it, though” Bruce gently rested his head on top of yours, cementing the sentiment and leaving another rush of warmth burning in your chest.

It was hard to fill the silence with anything else. Save maybe for the things you couldn’t say. After a beat, you found the safest question and gave it a voice:

“How- Um… How was your day?” the pathetic quiver shook your vocal cords.

Before you could give yourself a moment to marinate in shame while listening to his answer, Bruce carefully extracted himself from your embrace and stood up. Upon your questioning look, he murmured:

“One sec” already moving towards the ensuite, he kept speaking, “Selina asked to meet up with me, so I went to see her… She’s left the city, actually” you stared as Bruce entered the room a few seconds later, clutching a bottle of micellar water and cotton pads.

It took another three seconds for his words to sink in and for you to understand them. What it meant and how it made you feel. Strange. Conflicted. Fucking confused, among others. The attempts at words got stuck in your throat when Bruce sat next to you on the duvet and wordlessly prepared the make-up remover, waiting for you to tip your chin forward. Your body moved before you told it to, closing the gap yet again. He did not hesitate before leaning in to begin wiping off the mess from your face with a look of pure concentration.

It felt strange to be under his scrutiny, mindful of all the different issues you could catalogue on your face. Of all the ways Bruce could find you lacking. Not enough compared with someone like her.

“Oh… okay,” remembering that it was your turn to speak, you blurted out the only question you desperately needed to be answered, “You didn’t want to go with her?”

There. Your heart lying in his open palm, ready to be crushed. Not for the first time since you had met.

Bruce took his time, meticulously wiping off the smudged mascara from underneath your eyes, his gaze never straying from your face. You did not dare think about what he must have seen there.

“No, of course not” cutting through the uncertainty, Bruce offered a reply that gave no room for interpretation, at once meeting your worried look with a ready explanation, “I spent too much time fighting for Gotham just to leave it on a whim” he swallowed hard as if finally caught by the doubts, clearly debating whether what he wanted to say next should be spoken; then, he made up his mind “Plus, it was never like that between us” the meaningful look was impossible to miss, as was the unspoken implication of what he meant; the combination was enough to fortify the blush on your cheeks “She’s glad you’re fine after what happened. And that you’re staying too,”

The final comment was another surprise, spiking your heart rate to a faster beat. Because it suggested one thing you did not consider – Bruce talked with Selina about you. That you were important enough to be a conversation topic. Selina took her time to think about what she witnessed.

And that Bruce wasn’t going to leave. You still had time, for better or worse. Using the tidbit of information as your needed courage inspiration, you reached your hand to his, curling your fingers around his wrist. Just to keep him close.

“Are you? Happy I’m staying?” the thin band of skin-to-skin contact offered the push you needed to ask what you wanted.

The second most important matter after Bruce staying in Gotham.

Bruce used the final clean cotton wipe to erase the dried-up coats of foundation from the bridge of your nose and lowered his hands, freeing your face. His blue eyes stayed right where they were, sometimes meeting yours, at other times fixed on your mouth. Enough so to wreak havoc in your head and heart. At last, Bruce’s lips quirked into a small smile, his other hand coming down to cover yours, still encircling his wrist. The light pressure of his touch was enough to ground you, making the wait for his answer seem bearable.

“More than I know how to express” even with the anticipation, his reply took you by surprise, making you gasp as you were suddenly too bashful to look him in the eye; and for a good reason, “The meeting with Selina made me think about some things and…” you glanced up, the breath caught in your throat as you watched Bruce ponder something again; it was impossible to tell where it was leading “Before you, I was never brave enough to want. The feeling was there, the desires and the needs, but I never gave in to them. Slowly, I learnt how to repress it and shove it so far down that I almost thought I’m resistant” oh; your head flew back up fast enough to make your spine crack, head unable to comprehend the meaning without getting overwhelmed, only to find Bruce staring right back; his blue eyes sure and firm in their unwavering belief “Then you happened” oh.

The confession felt important. Crucial in its significance, like nothing else before it. Tangible like the pressure of his hand over yours and the heat of his body across the narrow space. Terrifying like the depths of feelings in your heart and head. You did not know what made him say it. Caught speechless by the admission, you could only whisper:

“Sorry,” shyly biting into your lower lip until Bruce tugged it free.

Your tender skin was burning from his touch. Thousand more apologies for turning his life on its head died on your tongue as you felt the familiar tension rise. Suddenly it was hard to find reasons why you should not close that gap. Why you should not keep touching him, giving whatever he wanted from you. The resolution was waiting in the wings for you to take the plunge whenever you were ready.

“I never said it’s a bad thing” Bruce’s smile only brightened as he brushed away your foolish apology while his fingers drifted downwards to trail over the skin of your neck, “Just that sometimes it’s difficult to stop myself from reaching for what I want” there was an implication in his voice, a pointer towards what he was too scared to say.

Perhaps the heat of his touch sparking the fire in your veins made you decide. Reach for the opening he created and take what he was offering. It was not difficult to breach the gap and take hold of his hand to drag it down, pressing his palm to your chest, right over the heart. Taking pleasure in the hungry look in his eyes, you leaned in close to whisper:

“You don’t have to stop” keeping your gaze locked onto his mouth, you added, “Not with me” then, with the both of you suspended millimetres away from the kiss that you could already feel, you posed the question, “What do you want, Bruce?”

Hoping he would get the message that whatever was about to happen had to be his request. Only then could you let go of the uncertainty and fear ruling your head. The heart was kept hostage. Bruce let out a shuddered breath, fanning your parted lips with a wisp of air. His nose nudged yours as he struggled to look you in the eye before replying:

“You” his free hand wandered down to touch your hip as Bruce leaned against you, slowly pushing you down onto the mattress, “Everything. I-”

Too scared to let him speak, you closed his mouth with a kiss, finally closing the gap. Releasing your heart from the captivity of the mind. Sealing your fate with a careful caress of your lips over his. Taking Bruce’s broken gasp and pulling him further into the embrace so that he had no choice but to surrender. Cover your body with his, enveloping your shaking bones with the warmth you have craved. That kiss was meant to be slow and direct in its meaning. You knew he understood when you broke the contact with a quiet whimper, your eyes roaming over his stunned features. The blown-out pupils and reddened lips drew your attention like magnets and made it so much easier to find the necessary words:

“You can have everything,” swallowing past the unspeakable, you met his gaze with vulnerability, “Please,” now there was nothing to hide.

He had it all, waiting for his move. The troubled blue eyes searched yours for a beat as if looking for uncertainty he expected to follow your admission.

“Are- are you sure?” the hesitant question confirmed your suspicions but was contested by his seemingly unconscious touch.

Fingers running down the slope of your thigh, now hitched over his hip to keep him in place. Adding fuel to the fire and distracting your mind from anything else but Bruce. Even with the fog steadily rising, his question was ridiculous. Without wasting time speaking, you used the empty hand to grab his shirt and pull him down to meet your lips. Again.

Only, this time, you did not idle, instantly opening your mouth and prodding his open with your curious tongue. Swiping against his tongue in a well-practised dance, exploring the inside of his mouth. All the moves were familiar; all elicited a gasp, a tightening hand touching your hip. All increased the temperature till all you wanted to do was make sure Bruce took off his clothes soon. So you could touch him how you wanted to.

Motivated by the thought, you broke the kiss and leaned back far enough to huff out a question:

“Was that good enough for you?” making sure to throw a cheeky smile, you admired the blush blooming upon his cheeks.

The kiss did what you needed it to. Bruce smiled back, the last tint of uncertainty vanishing from his face as you cupped his cheek. Fingertips tracing the sharp cheekbones and the fading bruises. He was beautiful. A fact that still sometimes astonished you after years of hearing about Bruce Wayne and seeing grainy photographs in the paper and online. Along with the idea that one day you would be this close to him. Close enough to touch and tear your heart apart in the process.

Ignoring the melancholy that threatened to steal the moment from your hands, you swept your thumb over Bruce’s bottom lip. Drawing both of you back in. Shaking himself awake, Bruce’s hand ventured up from your hip to trace the hem of your shirt and then dove underneath. Warm fingers skating over your skin, helping the chills settle in and raise the goosebumps. His attentive eyes watched you, noticing every shiver you tried to fight off. Pondering the mystery of what was going to happen next. One thing was clear – this time Bruce had it all figured out. He knew exactly how to get you to the edge of insanity. And then beyond.

Once he leaned in, slowly making his path from the corner of your mouth to your neck with pecks, you knew it was over. With each carefully laid peck, your body trembled. Each ignited a fire in your veins only Bruce could smother. Your hand tightened its hold over his shoulder; legs immediately accommodated to fit his body in the cradle of your thighs. Heart hammering between your ribs, begging to be listened to. To keep him like this forever.

Nosing at your pulse point, Bruce licked the spot, making your hips buck to meet his as if on autopilot. Making you gasp and mutter a curse that never quite got its voice. Only for him to sink his teeth in a shallow bite. Enough for your body to jerk upright, a pathetic breathless moan slipping through the gritted teeth. Enough for you to dig your nails into his arm and bunch up the shirt to find his bare skin. Trace the scars and the outline of muscles. You already felt like you were losing your mind. As if summoned by your hazy thoughts, Bruce concluded his exploration with a final teasing kiss over your collarbone and raised his head to ask:

“Can I?” the enigmatic question was easily explained by his tentative hand tracing the hem of your shirt.

Asking to give him what was already his. You appreciated the thoughtfulness. But there was one condition you had to voice before you gave in.

“Only if you take this off too” tugging at his t-shirt, you whispered out the pitiful wish, “I really want to touch you” a wave of shame threatened to rise, but it never got anywhere.

Not with the way Bruce looked at you after the admission. His lips stretched into a soft smile. Eyes awed and sparkling like rarely before. As if what you said was something he had been aching to hear.

Without another word, Bruce kissed your forehead before getting up on his knees to pull off the shirt in one move. You never saw quite where he threw the clothing. It did not matter that you already saw him like this many times before. Nor that now, after the few harrowing days, his torso was littered with an array of bruises and cuts. Your hand darted out as if controlled with a mind of its own, only just managing to graze the skin of his abdomen. The dark hair trail disappearing into the waistline of his trousers drew your attention like it always did. A simple touch earned you a full-body shiver quickly masked with an outstretched hand, inviting you to join him.

You did not waste a second to get up on your knees and close that awful gap. To meet Bruce’s gaze with bravery you did not feel and take off your shirt. Feeling the drafty air over your naked skin, you moved to cover up, but he stopped you with a firm grip on the forearm. Blue eyes locked stares with yours, ceasing all the chatter running through your brain. Till it was just Bruce. His reassuring touch, running up your arms to trace the bra straps and a silent question you knew he was asking. With the staccato in your chest, you nodded. Just once. Already feeling the rush of blood to your head. It all felt different. More profound. As if every action mattered.

The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating. Despite the ridiculous fears, you nodded and watched with bated breath as Bruce carefully lowered both straps and reached around your back to undo the clasp. Another rush of cold air could be only partially blamed for the shiver that wrecked your frame when the bra slipped down. Leaving your torso bare under Bruce’s watchful gaze. His fingertips skated over your tender skin, slowly circling the dark pink areolas and making you gasp. But it was not enough to shut up the brain. Your hand darted out to stop his meticulous study with a grasp around the wrist. His head snapped back up. An instant crease between the eyebrows brought a flush of softness to your heart.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce’s question made you wince.

You could not tell him. Couldn’t-

“Nothing,” the reply was automatic, your tongue falling into the familiar pattern to make up the word, hoping it would be enough to fool him. It wasn’t. You knew it as soon as you saw his brow twitch with disbelief, soothing circles traced into your upper arm acting as a further reason to let it all spill out, “I’m just… feeling weirdly shy, I guess” it was hard to meet his eyes.

Yet the crux of the issue had been laid out. It fell between you, disappearing into the weighted silence. You knew it made no sense. That Bruce had already seen you. Hell, he’s seen so much more. Still. The head did not want to listen to reason. The once hopeful dreams of getting lost in him tonight already seemed improbable. Because how does one get lost when the head and the heart are still in it?

“Why?” another question brought your back to the scene, his measured voice quickly becoming the lifeline you needed.

The string pulling you back from the spiral and forcing you to talk how you probably should have at the beginning. Your breath caught in your chest when you saw the depth of understanding in his gaze. And no judgement or ire. Almost as if, for Bruce, nothing would change no matter what you said next. Almost as if- No. He’d never. You ignored the idea before it could spread like a disease. Instead, you steeled your spine and gathered the courage to answer his question. To reveal a fraction of the truth, as he deserved.

“Because it matters how you see me” your eyes turned glossy as they focused on his face.

It was more than accurate. An admission long overdue. Somehow you could tell Bruce knew that. His hands cupped your face between his palms in a tender hold. Thumbs softly stroke your cheeks as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead before speaking:

“Then there’s no need to worry” his nose brushed against yours in a gentle caress, letting the whisper carry his words through the narrow space between you, “You’re perfect” his gaze flickered from your eyes to your mouth, but it was easy to miss.

Christ. You wanted to say something else. To protest, ask him how he can tell when you are the only woman he has ever been with. But it would not do. Your heart would never let you. No, it already took the compliment and ran with it, thrashing in your chest like a caged bird. There was nothing you could do.

Nothing, but throw your arms around his neck and dive in for a kiss. Bruce was waiting for you, opening his mouth under yours as soon as you pressed your lips against his. Not willing to waste time already running out, you let your tongue dart out. Swirling it around his and then sucking, enough to make him gasp and pull you closer. His arms enveloped your body, somehow making everything seem fine. Complete, even. You kissed him till there was barely any oxygen left, and you had to separate, eagerly exchanging pecks as you both caught your breath. His taste had filled your mouth, getting rid of the salty tint of tears and the bitterness of coffee. Everything was just Bruce. Like always.

Without thinking, you lowered your head to press another kiss to his chin and then below, tracing the slope of his throat with careful pecks. Bruce’s grip tightened over your waist as a broken groan reverberated through his chest. You could almost feel the sound in your bones. The thought rushed through your body like a bolt of lightning, venturing down between your thighs to a spot you had tried your hardest to ignore. But no longer could. Your core throbbed with the persistent desire as wetness spilt onto the gusset of your panties. You did not have to search your heart to know what you wanted.

That need made you bold enough to swipe your tongue in a broad stroke over Bruce’s throat. Collecting the low moan, he let out with satisfaction. As you sunk your teeth into a shallow bite over his pulse point, the feeling grew tenfold inspired by the noises that Bruce could not to stop. As if you were driving him insane. Leaning back to study your work, you knew the mark on his skin would stay. That it would be something he could remember you by, no matter what came after.

Before you could dive back in to continue, Bruce hooked his fingers under your chin to gently make you raise your head and look at him. So you could see the flushed cheeks and swollen lips parted to let out strained breaths. Following a will of their own, your eyes flicked to his waist and then below, checking whether he was just as affected as you were. What you found only made the frenzy worse. As did his words, accompanied by deliberate touch running along the waistline of your trousers:

“I want to taste you,” Bruce leaned in close, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

But you hardly registered it, brain caught up on what he said. Because that… that was quite something. Something you never expected to hear from him. The surprise must have painted across your face, your gaping mouth left open and eyes staring at him for too long. Until your brain thawed enough for you to speak (or stutter):

“Christ… Bruce, you can’t say things like- Okay, yeah” the string of words made only a little sense, but you compensated with a stupid grin and a hasty nod; the anticipatory shiver already coursing through your body as you met his gaze to add, “A sensible lady never says no that” your lips curled into a smirk, gleefully taking note of his mirroring smile, only then it was time for a check in “Do you really want to?” your hand run up his chest to curl around his shoulder.

Feeling the warmth of his skin and the promise of what he offered. But you could not just let him do it. That would have been too selfish. Even if Bruce seemed pretty convinced. The hunger in his eyes stole your breath as he took your verbal consent and hooked his fingers under the waistline of your trousers. Never straying from your gaze, he gave the reply:

“Yes,” his new confidence could easily be your outdoing.

But it could have also been the unceremonial way he pushed you down onto the bed, your body hitting the mattress with a quiet thud. A confirmation enough for the last of your worries.

“Okay,” a nervous giggle broke out from your chest as you watched him lean over you, those blue eyes darker than usual “Blow my mind, sweetheart” there were no doubts in your mind that he was capable.

It was proven as soon as Bruce finished undressing you, the quick work perfected with his lingering touch had you breathing shallowly. The feeling grew once you were lying naked before him, with nothing but the soaked panties to save you from his intense gaze. From the heat of his eyes, caressing what was already familiar. Tracing the paths his hands would soon follow. Unable to withstand the scrutiny much longer, you reached up to get him close, capturing his mouth with a kiss Bruce had long anticipated. He opened his lips underneath yours without a second wasted while letting his hands venture down your stomach, short fingernails emblazoning your tender skin. Before you knew it, he had tugged down your underwear, leaving you bare. The strange shyness had breached the surface again as you broke the kiss with a gasp and met his gaze with wide eyes. Silently asking for mercy.

One quick kiss and a nod had to be enough for you as Bruce gave your nose a playful nudge, his hand delving between your thighs without another warning. Your body shuddered upon his touch, cheeks turning scarlet once you realised how wet you were. Bruce’s surprise was evident in the slight hitch in his breathing, almost disguised by an inhale.

Your slick covered his fingers to the knuckles as he meticulously learnt to play you how you needed. At first, only stroking your clit with a feather-like touch, then circling your entrance, spreading your arousal, and making your thighs shake. It was already bad. And it could only get worse. For your dignity, that is. Sweat pearled on your forehead as you watched Bruce lower himself down your body, placing pecks along your abdomen. He settled between your thighs, the muscles on his back flexing under the skin in the faint light of the bedroom. As if unconsciously acting on his instincts, Bruce pressed a kiss to the inside of your left thigh, quickly following it with another one on the right thigh. Both kisses burned your skin like a hot poker. The sensation culminated in the apex of your thighs, in the frustrating throbbing you could hardly ignore anymore. But you did not have to.

Bruce met your gaze, seeking consent for the final time. With no words found, save for the ones you could never tell out loud, you nodded, impatiently brushing away the stray strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You wanted to see him. That first glimpse of Bruce diving between your legs with his head bowed was reason enough. As was the way his hands curled around your thighs, keeping them apart and spread. Leaving you exposed and shaking with want. All the faintest doubts disappeared when his tongue touched your clit in a kitten stroke. Your body jerked upright, kept in place only with Bruce’s steel grip. He repeated the move, drawing out a moan you could not hold in. Setting your blood on fire. Christ. A thousand curses and endearments rose in your throat but were desperately stifled by your waning self-control. You knew it would not last long.

The first blow came with Bruce’s skilful tongue circling your clit, learning all the different ways to make you tremble. He was a good listener, taking all the cues you were leaving and changing his technique to fit your needs. Searching for grounding, you sank your fingers in his hair and pulled. Bruce did not seem to mind, briefly stopping his feast to press a lingering kiss on your thigh. His fingers traced circles onto your skin, soothing the fevered flesh. The unbidden confessions showed up again, choking you with ferocity. Bruce was the one to save you, letting his tongue delve inside you in an exploratory move. One that made your hips buck into his face and tore a shout from your mouth.

Desire shot through your body like a bolt of lightning, bringing a delirious grin onto your face. It was quickly wiped clean as Bruce continued licking into you with passion you never expected from him. Utterly devoted to the task and focused on driving you crazy. A coil tightened in your lower belly, making it much harder to shut up. Making you squirm and trash under his hold. When he interrupted the relentless penetration with a flick of his tongue over your clit, you could not keep quiet.

“God, you- You’re so good” panting out the sentence that barely made sense, you highlighted the sentiment with a sharper tug on his hair.

Making Bruce groan into your core, the sound pushing you down the slippery slope with no way back. From then on, it was only a question of when you would break. Your body burned under his attention. Each point of contact felt like a flame scorching your flesh. Your heart hammered between your ribs, overwhelmed with the multitude of feelings. Pleasure rose and rose until all you could do was gasp his name between moans. Till your head was empty of everything but Bruce. Until the tension snapped, and an explosion filled your vision with white.

“I’m- Fuck,” the curse substituted any words you could have intended to say, but it was enough.

Bruce knew, his hands gripped your legs harder as if to ground you moments before. You came with his name on your lips and your hand gripping his hair. Your core squeezed around his prodding tongue wave after wave as Bruce lapped at your arousal without hesitation. Your thighs trapped his head between them, but he did not seem to mind, helping you ride the aftershocks with patience. As you came to, feeling your body go limp with a sigh, Bruce took his time earnestly licking at your folds. Collecting every drop as if he was hooked already on the taste. You did not dare dwell on that thought too long.

Instead, you searched for his hand to squeeze his palm. He understood the signal, instantly raising his head to find your gaze. You knew the look in your eyes could only be described as wild, with the pupils blown out large. But staring into his darkened blue stare, the realization did not hurt quite so much. His lips and chin were shiny from your arousal; the discovery of the fact sent a shiver down your spine. Bruce took hold of your hand to return the squeeze while his lips stretched into a confident smile. An incredibly attractive look, you had to admit.

“So… I take it, I did good,” emphasizing the word, Bruce smirked, his eyes twinkling.

Despite the embarrassment at what you said, you could not stop the chuckle. The fondness in your heart made its way to your gaze as you attempted a one-sided shrug.

“You broke me” that was an understatement.

But it only made his grin brighter. Without breaking the eye contact Bruce swept his tongue over his lower lip. Collecting the droplets of your come and crawling up to meet you on the bed. There was no mercy for the wicked.

“I can tell” his eyes roamed over your face affectionately, making you want to hide from his attention.

But you chose to meet it straight on, raising your head just enough to capture his lips in a kiss. Only to instantly groan into his mouth when you tasted yourself on his tongue. Bruce’s embrace tightened around your arms as he gathered you into his chest, carefully laying down next to you. And never breaking the kiss that stretched and evolved to fit your needs. Going from hectic and eager to languid. From chaotic to deliberate, and lasting till you were both out of breath, panting against each other’s mouth, unwilling to separate. You made sure you were sufficiently curled against his warm body before you leaned back to put some space and find his gaze again.

The blue eyes were never disappointing, instantly setting your body on fire with the tenderness you found in them. It felt good to be like this with Bruce, able to let go of the fears and inhibitions. Able to give in to the love you could feel coursing in your bloodstream every second you had spent with Bruce. Because even if he did not reciprocate, the memories would still be there. After. Whatever that meant. After you fucked it and told him, probably. With the aching heart beating in your chest and the creeping dread threatening to tear the moment away from you, the hesitant question placed itself on the tip of your tongue:

“Was it how you imagined?” with your eyes trained on his face, you knew when Bruce caught the meaning.

His flushed cheeks turned redder as his arms tightened around your waist, nose nuzzling into your head to buy him some time. And hide from your curious gaze. Bruce Wayne was adorable, and you had no idea what to do with the fact.

“Better,” his reply came in the form of a rushed word and was followed by an admission you almost thought you had misheard, “Think I’m already addicted to you” he raised his head again to meet your eyes.

It was impossible to get rid of the lovesick look on your face as your body shivered with anticipation. That something was still in the air. The tension that assured you Bruce was eager to take another step. You did not have to search your heart and mind to know you wanted it too. Right here and now. No matter the consequences. You knew there was a high chance you would regret it later. But that did not matter now.

Carefully, you placed your hand over his heart, splaying the palm on his chest and replied:

“That’s my line” taking a deep breath to take the plunge, you added, “I- I want you,” your voice wavered, but the revelation could not have been surer.

The sudden shyness was still concerning, rendering you nearly useless with how it had tied your tongue into knots. But with Bruce, those three words were enough. His eyes darkened almost instantly, a hitch in the breath disguised by a kiss pressed to your temple. It was easy to tell what it meant, encouraging you to trail your hand down the broad planes of his chest and stomach. Eliciting another gasp, this time masked with a tentative question:

“Are you sure?” the irony of his asking did not escape you.

The last time it had been you that asked, a thousand times or more, just to ascertain he would not regret it. To be assured that Bruce wanted to give you that crucial part of himself. A gift no one had given you before. Not quite like that. But now, after everything, you appreciated that he checked. Even though you never needed him to.

“Perfectly” you found his eyes to show him the smile on your face while your hand skated lower still, brushing over his abdomen and the trail of hair disappearing into the waistband.

But you did not stop there, letting your fingertips touch his zipper in what you hoped was a smooth enough suggestion. It worked if the way Bruce grabbed your hand was anything to go by. You shot him a questioning glance, waiting for that telling nod to work his belt undone. Once you had it, his eyes dark and hungry, you did not waste time tugging his trousers and boxers down his legs and throwing them somewhere onto the floor. The longer you hesitated, the more likely it would be for your head or heart to catch up. Intervene in what was supposed to be just sex. No strings attached. Or so you liked to tell yourself.

Only when neither of you could hide behind fabric or pretence, the noises in your head grew quiet again. The room was silent as your eyes trailed over his naked body, consuming all the details you had almost forgotten. Though it had only been days. Like the constellation of moles on his hip or the exact markings of his multiple scars. Like the fading bruises, which were all new to your eyes. Like the feel of his hand running over your hip and thigh, drawing you in for a kiss.

You went willingly, melting into his touch and making sure every inch of your body touched his. With your leg in between his, arms thrown around his waist and mouth sealed in a kiss. A kiss that went on for minutes, which felt like hours. An eternity of your tongues sliding against each other’s and tracing the insides of your mouths. Imprinting the taste of him in your mind forever. Slowly, your hands continued exploration, reaching down to touch his length. Carefully yet firmly enough to elicit a groan from his lips and break the kiss. Encouraged by the reaction, you circled his shaft with your hand, putting pressure and making Bruce gasp. It felt powerful.

Bruce met your gaze with dark, hungry eyes, wasting no time to delve a hand between your thighs and spread your arousal over your folds. All for an act of retaliation that had you cursing under your breath. All to make sure you were ready for him. Without stopping your ministrations, you settled to lie on your back, silently extending an invitation. Bruce took it with your name on his lips and his hands on your waist. He shifted to hover over you, knees resting in the cradle of your thighs. The staccato of your heartbeat thumped between your ribs as you laced your hands on the nape of his neck and met his gaze. Nodding once more to assure the both of you. That it was alright. It was what you wanted. Even if it already felt like a mistake.

Bruce entered you with a gasp falling from his lips, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. You exhaled sharply upon the stretch, body instantly accommodating the feel of him. Your legs opened wider, knees coming up to rest over his hips. It was simple, a primal instinct taking over as you looked him in the eyes and let him know it was okay to move. You could only hope that the pain in your heart would ease. That you could ignore it.

At first, it was easy. You did not let your eyes stray from Bruce, noting every expression that flitting across his face. The awe, the pleasure, and the need. Your fingers tangled into his hair while the other hand sought purchase on his shoulder. Feeling the heat radiating from him and warming every cell of your body. Bruce built up a rhythm, thrusting into you with ease and care. Now and then, he leaned in to kiss you, consuming your lips with his. You tried focusing on it, on the delicious friction and the feel of him inside you. On the closeness and the touch. On the familiarity of his kisses, the pressure of his mouth against yours. But it was not enough. Your heart still felt as if it was being torn apart.

With a moan, you hoisted your legs to cross them over his back, bucking your hips into his. Pleasure erupted underneath your eyelids as he hit the spot that made you cry out his name. Bruce’s only answer was a guttural groan reverberating through your joined bodies. Adding to the urgency building between you. To the need to have it faster and sooner and now. You repeated the move, following that instinct. Soon enough, you had Bruce where you wanted him – gasping and panting; his eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

The pressure in your abdomen rose, making your moans louder. Making you rake your fingernails over his back, breaking the skin and marking Bruce as yours. Only he wasn’t. He wasn’t yours. He could never be yours.

Later you wondered what the reason was. What made you break and shatter like glass. Whether it was how Bruce suddenly opened his eyes and looked at you. His gaze full of affection and admiration you did not deserve and never could live up to. Or his gentle touch, caressing the expanse of your thigh. Or the feel of his breath against your gasping mouth, offering kisses you could not claim without risking too much. Or how he whispered your name, the syllables filled with reverence and devotion. Or maybe it was the constant beating of your heart, spelling out the confessions you could never tell him. Blinding you to the pleasure building in your body.

Before you caught up and understood what was happening, it was done. Tears pooled in your eyes and spilt down your cheeks, tinting your swollen lips with salt. A whimper got caught in your throat, fracturing the moment in a second. You never had the time to hide.

As if in slow motion, you could see when Bruce noticed. His body stilled, eyes widening as his forehead scrunched up with concern. His palm returned to your cheek, rendering it impossible to escape his gaze. The heart thrashed in your chest as you scrapped your mind for words, excuses, anything at all. By the time Bruce asked the question, you came up empty:

“Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” the worry in his voice felt like a knife to your bleeding heart; you tried turning your head into the pillow, but he did not let you, “Hey, don’t-” you’ve had enough, pressing your palm to his mouth, shutting him up.

At last, your brain found what was needed.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine” the lie fell with practised ease as you slipped on the mask you had tried on many times before; it was just another role, another part to play, “I’m good, Bruce. I promise” forcing a saccharine smile, you moved your palm to caress his face “Don’t stop, please” to strengthen the act, you tightened the muscles in your thighs, caging him within your hold.

Praying to every god you had ever heard of that Bruce would listen. That the tears could dry on your face, and he would push you over the precipice. Help you lose yourself in him and the pleasure. Because you could never explain it. Did not dare to try.

“But you’re-” the conflicted look in his eyes was still there, staining every word with unease.

Ripping your heart into shreds. But there was no other way. There was no universe where you could tell him the truth. No world where you could come clean, whisper those three cursed words, and have this. Things like that didn’t happen to people like you. So, you turned to what you knew best. Desperate to have this night, even if it would be the last one. Impatiently, you wiped the tears off your face and hooked your fingers under his chin, bringing Bruce closer. His mouth an inch away from yours, hot breath fanning your lips:

“I need you like this,” your eyes revealed the despair you no longer tried to hide, “I need you to fuck me so I can forget everything else” as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew why it felt wrong.

It was a dirty trick, an appeal to the side Bruce did not yet have under control. But it was the only one you knew would work. And it had to work.

His gasp and the way he twitched inside you confirmed you were right. But nothing eased the bitterness coating your tongue. Not the way Bruce squeezed you tighter, his swallowed curse buried in the heated kiss you did not deny him. When his tongue swept over yours, you wondered whether he could taste your anguish.

Bruce broke the contact too soon, searching your face for any signs of the truths you had been hiding. All for nothing. Pressing your forehead to his, you whispered the final word of encouragement:

“Please” you met his gaze, aware of your glassy eyes and the pain in your tone.

Bruce only nodded and kissed your forehead, resuming the steady rocking of his hips into yours. Almost as if nothing happened at all. Almost. Your inner walls involuntarily clenched around him, drawing out another groan. Making the throbbing between your thighs prominent again. Just like before. Squeezing his waist with your legs, you latched onto his arms, thrusting up to meet his hips with increasing speed. The desire pooled in your veins, making you bite his shoulder. Resulting in a loud moan, which only spurred you on.

Trading bites like kisses along his neck and throat till Bruce was panting above you. His hips stuttered and twitched in what you knew were tell-tale signs he was close. You were not that far behind, freeing one of your hands to find your clit between your bodies. Desperate to follow him.

Your movement made Bruce look up, his eyes instantly finding yours. You should have always known that would be your downfall. How he looked at you, his gaze filled with a myriad of feelings, some indescribable and impossible to identify. That same unknowable emotion there, like many times before. That tenderness and affection that bruised your heart each time. This one was not any different.

The heart thumped in your chest, the pulse in your ears drowning out thoughts and fears till all you could hear were the moans and sighs neither of you held back. Till unbidden words slipped through your tight control.

“Make me yours. I want to be yours” only when they were out, whispered in between whimpers, you realised what you just said.

What it meant. And prayed Bruce did not hear it. Please.

There was no time to dwell on it, for as soon as the words left your mouth Bruce’s hips stuttered. His tempo waned, forcing you to act. To take over the rhythm and buck your hips till you could feel him tense up. Till it was enough. His lips opened with a breathless moan as he came inside you with a sharp gasp, his head hiding in the crook of your neck. Bruce’s body shook in your hold as he rode the high, never once stopping to chant your name into your skin.

With his arms around you still, it was easy to let go. Let yourself fall, knowing Bruce was there to catch you. For once, you weren’t alone. The sensation of his teeth biting into the sensitive skin underneath your ear pushed you over the precipice. Your vision darkened, a sharp cry piercing the silence as your steel grip bruised his bicep. Your tense muscles uncoiled at once as the orgasm coursed through your body, twitching in the aftershocks. You had been burnt to cinder. Ruined for anyone else. Forever.

Unable to move, you sagged into the mattress, eyes closed to stop yourself from doing something stupid. Or stupider than you’ve already done. Faintly, you could feel a reassuring touch running over your arms and waist, lulling the anxieties and fears. Fooling you into the promise of safety. But the mirage was better than the hard truth and the cruel reality. You took a deep breath to steady your heart and opened your eyes.

Only to find Bruce gazing back at you with concern. On its own accord, your hand rose to smooth the wrinkle between his eyebrows. Before you could drop it again, he pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist. He rolled off your body, putting inches of space between you as he settled on his side.

“Everything alright?” his question brought you back into the moment, anchoring your mind in the present.

The tinge of relief at the lack of mention of your slip-up was unmistakable. But so was the gratitude you felt upon check-in. A step Bruce could have ignored after everything you had put him through. Especially tonight. Your throat suddenly felt dry. You went too far, didn’t you?

“Yeah. Yes,” swallowing hard, you hoped the guilt could be wiped off your face, “You’ve just kinda blown my mind” a half-hearted shrug and a weak smile were all you could manage.

It was not surprising to see a flash of distrust in Bruce’s eyes as they scanned your face for any signs of lies. You were too good at pretending for him to find anything solid. But he knew you well enough to tell something was off. After a beat, he gave up, meeting your gaze with a smirk of his own:

“You asked me to” the confidence in his voice was still there, now, perhaps even stronger.

Because – yes. You asked, and he delivered, and now you knew, for a fact, that Bruce Wayne was an avid learner. Which somehow made everything harder. Like not falling for him further. If that was even possible.

You did not talk much after. With your refusal to delve into any part of what happened, and Bruce’s inability to persuade you to talk, it was easier to stay silent. As if on autopilot, you pressed a final kiss to his lips and got up, wordlessly heading to the ensuite. To hide and marinate in misery for as long as you could without it being even more suspicious. Avoiding the mirror, you got dressed in a set of sweats and cleaned your face.

The unknown of what you would find back in your room terrified you the most. Because there was no guarantee Bruce would still be there. You did not discuss it, easily letting the awkwardness consume you both. But the hope was still there. The hope that he would stay. Even if just this once.

When you had hand-combed your hair and checked at least twenty times whether there were no signs of the war you were waging in your head, you exited the bathroom. Your eyes darted across the room, drawn to the bed where you had last seen him. Bruce was still there, sitting on the edge of the mattress with his back turned to you. Your heart thumped in your chest, relieved and overwhelmed at once. Bruce waiting on you was just a part of the predicament. The other was that now you had to ask for what you needed.

The creaking floorboards gave away your presence as Bruce glanced at you over his shoulder. He was still shirtless, his back littered with moles, scars, and red lines from where you had scratched him. The discovery brought an instant blush to your cheeks as you silently stared back. The impasse was broken by Bruce’s timid smile, warming up your heart and stifling the fears. If he was still around, it meant that it would be okay. Right?

In a split second, you decided that the only way of finding out was to ask him. No matter how terrifying that seemed. Steeling your spine upon his searching look, you whispered the question:

“Can you stay with me?” fully aware of the tremble in your voice and the shaking in your hands, clasped together tightly.

Aware of the vulnerability you were showing, on top of the rollercoaster of emotions you had dragged him through the past hour. But there was no annoyance on Bruce’s face. An invisible weight lifted off your shoulders as you watched him nod, following the gesture with a reply:

“I was hoping you’d ask” it was that same soft tone which had captured your heart at the very beginning.

Almost as gentle as the look in his eyes, willingly offering the truth you did not expect to hear. Not after everything. Frozen with the dazed smile on your lips, you only moved when Bruce got up from the bed and crossed the space to you. His hand reached out to squeeze your palms as he leaned in to kiss your temple. Without another word, he disappeared into the bathroom. But there were no regrets or uncertainties this time. He would stay. It would be okay.

At least until the morning.

***

Later, when she was long asleep, quiet snores breaking the silence in the room, Bruce was still awake. He watched her chest rise and fall with every breath. Her head was cushioned on his shoulder as if it belonged there. There was only a slight twinge of guilt in his heart when he tightened the hold over her body, drawing her closer. Because god only knew how long that would last. Because if there was one thing the evening taught him, it was that she still was lost within the prison of her own making. Unwilling to believe it was real. That this was real. She was still looking for a reason to run. And he had no way of proving her wrong.

But Bruce wanted to try. Even if it would all be in vain.

He stared at her peaceful face, bathed in the faint moonlight peeking through the hastily drawn curtains, feeling the steady beat of her heart. There was only one thought circling in his head like a vulture. She was wrong. And she had to know. Bruce turned his head towards hers, instantly feeling her burrow her head into the crook of his neck. Still asleep. An uncertain smile bloomed on his face as he whispered:

“I told you there would never be anybody else,”

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silentmagi · 1 year ago

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Listening To What Is Not Said

Pomni and Ragatha share a moment after the first supper.

Ragatha watched the others leaving, after the day she’d had she was hoping that they’d all be okay and she didn’t have to help them fix everything. Gangle could get started on repairing her mask, maybe she could even get Zooble to assist her. Jax could… Kinger would probably retire for the evening and tend to his bug collection

Suppressing the shudder that sent up her spine, she sighed as she realized that another red cross would be going up. Kaufmo, she had thought she was making progress with him. That he wasn’t going to abstract, and she could…

No, that wasn’t fair to her, she’d tried. She… she failed him.

She was supposed to be the comforter, the one that helped the others get through their problems. To be there.

What was she good for if not for-

A tiny hand tugged at her sleeve, causing her to break out of her thoughts, only to find the little jester that had arrived. Pomni. Trying to muster up a calming smile, she fought to keep her pain from showing. “Hey New Stuff, did you need something?”

“I… I wanted to say sorry, I… I…”

“You panicked, and I can’t say that I blame you,” Ragatha offered softly as she looked towards the eyes in the portrait watching over the dining area. She didn’t blame her. The glitching, the giant monster, the new world without any warning. These were all things that had made her freeze when she was first here.

Pomni shook her head, the adorable little baubles on the end of her hat whipping around. “Not that, It’s… I didn’t even hesitate. I saw the Exit door, and just… I ran.”

“Better than just standing there and letting Kaufmo destroy you,” Ragatha answered honestly, “You might have noticed we don’t feel pain aside from the glitching, and you came back the first time. You were able to get Caine by going into the void from what I understand.”

“I didn’t know that though, I-”

“You did what you thought would help you survive, and it worked out…”

Ragatha watched the jester, noticing that her teeth had a bit of sharpness to them that wasn’t there earlier. Then it was gone. “Still, I want to start making it up to you… so can I get that centipede from your room? They don’t bother me… and… I owe you.”

Oh, she remembered that she was afraid of them? Okay, that she could do, since she hated centipedes. If it made Pomni feel better about things, it would be fine with her to let her get the bug out. “Sure New Stuff, Kinger would love to add it to his collection.”

“Oh… okay… Umm… I’m not good with this stuff, but… could I give you a hug? You look like you could use one, and I don’t normally like touches, but I want to help you, like you help others,” Pomni rambled, catching Ragatha off-guard. Had she noticed? Was she that obvious, or did the Jester notice things?

Giving a slight nod of her head, she felt the small doll wrap her arms around Ragatha’s soft midsection holding her tightly. Huh, if this was her being bad at it, she couldn’t wait to see what she’d be like with more practice.

It was nice being held, it had been so long… not since she lost her eye when the first abstraction she’d known had torn it away and destroyed the eye. Queenie had held her then, and they hid until Caine could take the abstraction away.

It had been so long ago…

Leaning in, she curled around the jester doing her best to hold her, to hug her, and felt the dam she had on her emotions cracking, and crumbling slowly under the earnest effort.

Someone was hearing her silent pleas, and it was everything she’d wanted. Just someone being there. A friend she could turn to when she wasn’t strong enough to support everyone.

“You’re plenty strong Ragatha, but even the strongest pillars need support from time to time,” Pomni whispered softly. “I’m not great at it, but I’d like it if you give me the chance.”

As the tears dropped from her good eye, she felt a warmth and resolve spread through her. Something she’d forgotten was stirring in her chest, something she’d thought long dead in her.

Hope.

#story #my writing #The Amazing Digital Circus #TADC #TADC Pomni #Pomni #TADC Ragatha #Ragatha #buttonblossom #ragapom #jesterdoll #digital yuri #Prelude to more #starting off strong

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fancoloredglasses · 2 months ago

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[RERUN] Crisis on Infinite Earths, issue 9: “War Zone” (Bring on the Villains!)

[All images are owned by DC Comics, please don’t sue me]

(How many can you ID in the above cover? I’m at just over 50% without a crib sheet)

PREVIOUSLY ON…

A being known as the Anti-Monitor has destroyed all but 5 of the universes in existence) with a single survivor on Earth-6 (Lady Quark) along for the ride). Those 5 (1 (Silver Age), 2 (Golden Age), 4 (acquired from Charleton), S (acquired from Fawcett after DC sued them into oblivion), and X (acquired from Quality)) are being held in limbo (and are merging into a single reality) away from the Anti-Monitor thanks to a being known as Lyla, assisted by a being known as Pariah and the sole survivor of Earth-3 (Alexander Luthor, who is made of matter and anti-matter).

Unfortunately, the process was unstable, meaning that time has merged (meaning mammoths and futuristic aliens are among modern skyscrapers) in the areas where the Earths are merged (which are called “Warp Zones”)

The Anti-Monitor has also kidnapped Psycho Pirate (whose powers have been overloaded by the Anti-Monitor, but are slowly returning) and Earth-1’s Flash (who could pierce the barrier between universes to enter his Anti-Matter universe), who the Anti-Monitor has offered to Psycho Pirate as an emotional plaything.

However, The Flash broke free of Psycho Pirate’s influence and destroyed the Anti-Monitor’s third attempt at destroying the Multiverse, an anti-matter cannon, at the cost of his life.

On Oa, the home of the Guardians of the Universe and home to the Green Lantern Corps, a rift between the Guardians has happened, with the faction wanting to not sit idly by leaving to form their own Corps.

Meanwhile, the villains of all 5 Earths are disappearing. That can’t be good.

Now, on with our story! If you would like to read this issue, it (along with the rest of the series) has been collected in graphic novel form and is available (or can be ordered) at your favorite comic shop, bookstore, or online retailer…or on Read Comic Online.

We begin on Oa, with the proactive faction of the Guardians recruiting Guy Gardner. As Guy gets his ring…

…a bolt of anti-matter wipes out the splinter group of Guardians with the exception of one, who tells Guy to avenge them. Guy then speeds off into the Green Lantern monthly series to become the asshat we all know and…love?

(Thanks to DC Database)

Anyway, his cameo in Crisis has ended, so back to the main narrative…

We now shift to Brainiac’s ship, where he and Earth-1′s Lex Luthor have brought the 5 Earths’ villains and lay out their plan to conquer the five remaining Earths now that the Anti-Monitor has been defeated. Suddenly, the Lex Luthor of Earth-2 chimes in that he’s a better evil genius than Earth-1′s version and there’s room for only one Luthor in this scheme.

Brainiac agrees with Luthor’s second point and disintegrates him. Anyone else have any arguments? No? Good!

At the U.N., the assembly debate what to do about the Warp Zones when Pariah, who was assuring everyone that the Crisis was over as he hasn’t been pulled away…

…gets pulled away.

At that moment, Brainiac and Luthor project themselves to the U.N. saying that have seized control of Earths 4, S, and X and have put up a shield to prevent the heroes of Earths 1 and 2 (and any from the other three Earths who weren’t home at the time) from “saving the day”.

The heroes rise to the challenge, but the barrier proves too strong for even the combined might of two Kryptonians. Lyla recruits Earth-2′s Flash. She then approaches Wally West (formerly known as Kid Flash, now retired due to his use of his speed slowly destroying his body) and Flash shames West to come out of retirement.

Flash and the now-unretired Kid Flash rebuild the Cosmic Treadmill that allows those with super speed to cross universes, with the hope that this could bypass the barrier. They have attached several large platforms to transport the heroes with them. It is a success (just as Brainiac predicted) Brainiac computed huge losses on both sides, but the villains eventually being triumphant.

Over the next eight pages is the most epic battle between super-powered individuals. There are casualties, notably Aquagirl. (yes, I know…no one of major import, but still…) All in all, the villains appear to be maintaining control.

Above the battle, in Brainiac’s ship, Luthor and Brainiac gloat about their plan working (and if the heroes appear to be winning, they’ll just blow up the Earths they control which will, due to everything being linked, destroy the other two as well. Luthor is philosophical, as they can always conquer another world. Plus, villain losses mean less they have to share)

Suddenly, Brainiac explodes!

…as Psimon (who didn’t leave the ship. Apparently his big brain isn’t just for show) emerges to say he likes their plan…except for the fact he’s not in charge…as he turns his powers on Luthor.

One of the few times a cliffhanger leaves a villain in peril!

WILL Psimon take over as leader of the villians?

CAN the heroes overcome the villains and save the collected Earths?

ISN’T there a less messy way to cull the roster?

These questions and more will me answered next issue!

#dc comics #crisis on infinite earths #dc multiverse #guy gardner #brainiac #lex luthor #the flash #kid flash #psimon #fan colored glasses #i hate reruns

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historia-gloria · 4 months ago

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Hellou! I just saw in your latest ask game you also play dnd (or write dnd characters? ). If you feel like it, I would love to hear about your characters! As in your favourite tidbits, favourite backstory detail or, if you play, funniest twist of story you didn't see coming... Anyway have a lovely day!

AAAAAHHH

Okay this is maybe one of the sweetest asks I've ever had, I love talking about my DND characters and will do so for forever Thank you So much for asking ❤️❤️

So I've been playing DnD for over 5 years now, started out as a DM (woof that learning curve!) and have since then both played and DMed a lot. I mostly play DnD 5e, but I've also played Pathfinder 2e, Shadow of the Demon Lord and Call of Cthulhu.

Currently, I have three active DnD characters and one Pathfinder character (and one retired who I will never not think about) so here's a bit about them!

Nym Silentshard, Drow Night Cleric: My beloved baby Nym is a cleric who never really meant to be a cleric? When I originally envisioned the character he was a warlock but then the party ended up without any healers or mages, so I switched him to a cleric. He's young, bright and full of anxiety. The DM for that campaign is so good and Nym's god is a voice in his head which is slowly developing into a proper god with his help. Poor Nym is somewhat doomed by the narrative and was sacrificed to bring his god into being, which means he's slowly becoming a Saint (a monstrous creature created when that person wishes a god into being) but he's trying his best and his god Osiris is so kind to him.

Pollux Azari, Kalashtar Oath of Hope Paladin/Shadow Soul Sorcerer/Barbarian: Oh Pollyyy. He's my Curse of Strahd PC and if you know anything about that game, it's that it really fucks up your characters. Pollux was originally a ray of sunshine type character, oath of hope paladin and CoS has just absolutely destroyed him, he's now full of rage! Genuinely a really fun character to play and my DM has been so good at helping him get worse ahaha

Nox Leukos, half elf Artillerist Artificer: Nox is a character I've had the great joy to be able to come back to, with the campaign restarting after a 3 year gap. He was originally an asshole, but ended up in a coma back when the campaign when on hiatus and woke up from that with a lot of realizations about maybe having a moral compass aha. The DM really pulled the rug out from under us and revealed that the fiance of another PC had cured Nox of his coma but also had published her research about that without telling him that he was the subject!!

Infernus Nyrin, Fire Genasi Lycanthrope Blood Hunter/Hearth Cleric: This is my retired PC (he is also my pfp aha), he was my first long term PC and we finished his four year long campaign last year and God that was such a fucking insane and incredible campaign. He was originally a blood hunter and mercenary who had a soft spot for the PCs and then he just never left. He was fiercely loyal but deeply untrusting and had an almost suicidal tendency to step in front of danger. He died twice and would go unconscious like at least once a combat honestly. The DM helped me multiclass into a hearth cleric, so he ended the campaign retiring with his husband to a small village where he was one of the most important clerics in his whole religion, a soft epilogue for a character who had spent his whole life fighting.

Magnus Zyryah, undine bard: Magnus is my pathfinder character! He's in a short campaign that takes a lot of inspiration from fairy tales, so I did too! He is basically the Little Mermaid. Magnus is a trans man with a curse that is slowly and painfully turning his body to seafoam, so he's an ambulatory wheelchair user with chronic pain (I also have chronic pain, so it was good to explore that myself) and he's trying to make the best of his life before it is cut short by the curse. My boyfriend is playing The Prince and his character and Magnus had a relationship before Magnus transitioned and the Prince is looking for Magnus, but doesn't know that he's now a man!! Also to add complications, that campaign is set in a timeloop so we're living the same day over and over.

Special shout out to Milosh Greywing my Shadow of the Demon Lord character who got lucky enough to be part of an insanely perfect party where accidentally every character was hiding something important about themselves from the others but also we needed each other to escape, that party was a special kind of magic with illegal mages and dhampirs and religious inquisitors who all couldn't trust each other but couldn't get out without the others!

This is waaaaay longer than I expected but I just love DnD so much and I love being able to talk about my characters so much

#my asks #oh my god thank you for letting me ramble #my dnd character #my dnd ocs #redfeathered

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100jewels-between-teeth · 2 years ago

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(Sneak peak)

Synopsis: Years after the fall of Ranrok, and the alleged containment of the ancient magic, The Ministry of Magic has discovered what exactly took place. The newly appointed Minister of Magic, former headmaster of Hogwarts Nigellus Black, has demanded the former student be brought in for containment, due to the dangerous nature of her magic.

Aesop never expected for Negallus to bring him out of his retirement. Especially to hunt down a former favorite student. Yet with the threat of more bodies being left in her wake, and the scandal Negallus faces for allowing such a power to slip past him after his time at Hogwarts, he is eager for the job to be done quickly and clean. Conflicted by his heart and mind, knowing the bond forged between the two over their time together, and the outcome of her fate if he indeed succeeds, Aesop tries everything in his power to separate the work from history, but soon, discoveries they both find soon change their course, bringing them together in the strangest of circumstance.

Warnings : (none.... yet)

The floorboards groaned underneath his feet as he stepped over the threshold of the house. From the smell, Aesop could deduce that the house had been already abandoned for some time. Old drapery hung from the windows, already claimed by the moths and mildew. Parts of the floor already seemed to be rotted through, sinking into the ground. As the wind blew outside, the entire house shifted with a loud moan. Honestly, Aesop would not be surprised if there were ghosts in a place like this.

Slowly, he made his way through the lower level of the home, his wand casting long shadows over the dilapidated walls. Once upon a time, he felt this place would have been lovely. The now rotted wallpaper showed a once regal sitting room, cast in red and golds. The furniture, at least the ones still standing, showed the promise of fine silks and satins adorning them. To their dismay, all that was left was holes and mold. The kitchen itself was barely standing, most of the cabinetry destroyed and ripped apart, glass littering the floor. He was thankful that any rotted food was now so far gone, the worst of the smell no longer lingered.

'Why here of all places..' he answered his thought before he even could finish it. He had worked long enough to think like most of the people he hunted, and the last place anyone would truly look is here. A dilapidated, abandoned house, not even minutes away from Hogsmead. Yet, he also knew her well enough to know that no matter what was happening, she would never be able to stay away from Hogsmead for long, she loved it there, like a second home.

Aesop cased the lower levels thoroughly, hoping his steps weren't too loud. He tried his best to match the creaking of the house from the wind, hoping it would mask the noise. His dread grew though as he looked to the rotted stairs climbing up to the higher levels. Immediatley, Aesop felt his leg protest, already tired from the journey to get to the House in the first place. But he wasn't about to let a few flight of stairs get in his way from the job at hand. Waiting once more for the wind to howl through, he grasped onto the dusted bannister, hoisting himself up the stairs slowly. As the house settled, a large groan sounded beneath him as his foot suddenly fell through the stairs, his hand clutching to the posts on the railing to keep himself up. 'Blasted fucking stairs.' He waited for another wind as he clambered his way out, making it to the first landing, another flight before him.

At this point he had forgoed his wand into his coat, not wanting to risk another incident and lose it below. The only light that came through now was from the large window before him up the stairs, partly shattered and borded. Aesop's leg begged for some kind of reprieve, but resting now would be the same as signing a death certificate. Conjuring as much strength as he could, he continued up the staircase, thankful this time that the wood actually held his weight for the rest of the journey.

As he made it to the second floor, Aesop was fully bathed in the moonlight, able to see a few doors ahead of him. All were closed, except the french doors immediatley to his right, one slightly ajar. Slowly creeping to the side, he could make out a large canopy bed on the other side, Empty and covered in destroyed sheets. 'If there was anywhere to start.' He slowly brandished his wand, his hand slowly pushing the closest side open for him to look around more.

As he limped into the room slowly, he could suddenly feel the sharp tip of a wand jabbing into his neck. He knew he was Rusty, but he didn't expect this situation to happen so soon. He could not see the wand bearer, but quickly he grabbed their arm, leg sweeping the wizard and pinning them to the ground. The charm on the attacker faded, and as they both struggled on the floor, soon he was met with very familiar eyes, wide and staring back at him.

"Aesop…?"

"Lilium?!"

CW: Violence, mentions of prior trauma from multiple characters, general mature themes, Potential smut for much later in the story, mentions of death and also descriptions of death as the story goes

An upcoming long slow-burn romance between Aesop Sharp and the Mc of Hogwarts Legacy set years after the events of the game itself. It will feature spoilers for the game so warnings will be posted just in case.

I will start posting the fic soon! Just wanted to post this to test the waters with readers! If you are wanting to be tagged for updates let me know! I'll be creating a masterlist of all updates soon enough!

#hogwarts legacy #harry potter #aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp x oc #hogwarts legacy fic #harry potter fic #sneak peak

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camille-lachenille · 2 years ago

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Day 22 of All of Arda is Autistic:

Prompt: silence

Rating: Gen

CW: Fëanor being a bit ableist at the beginning but he gets better, mentions of ableism from other people

I hope I portrayed correctly a nonspeaking character and her alternative ways of communication. Tell me if I am being inaccurate and/or offensive.

Fëanáro glared at his half-sister. “Come on, you are almost two, you can repeat that: Finwë. Fin-wë.” he said for the third time, in a row, detaching each sound so it was easier for the elfling to repeat. Findis only glared back at him, her chubby face remarkably stern. Fëanáro rolled his eyes; how could this little creature be so dim? He had spent the past two days trying to teach her their father’s name as a begetting day’s gift for Finwë, but Findis had yet to utter a single word. She was so far behind any other elfling her age…

With a deep sigh, Fëanáro shuffled to sit cross-legged instead of crouching in front of his half-sister. “Alright, we try again. It’s for atar’s begetting day, Findis. You can surprise him by wishing him a good day. Now, say Fin-wë.” he said slowly. Findis only blinked and brought one if her wooden blocks to her mouth. Fëanáro slumped in defeat when something brushed his mind. An image of Finwë walking in the gardens and the vague impression of a world: Atya. His head snapped up to look at Findis, who was silently gnawing at her toy. She wore a very smug smile for an elfling so young. “Well, I guess that ósanwë is good enough,” Fëanáro grumbled to hide how impressed he was at his half-sister’s precocious use of mind-speech. “Can you say ‘Happy begetting day atya?’” But Findis only sent him an image of himself sitting in front of her accompanied by a very clear feeling of annoyance. “Fine, fine, you are very good at ósanwë,” Fëanáro begrudgingly admitted, ruffling her hair before leaving the nursery.

Findis grew up never speaking. She used ósanwë from an early age with her parents and siblings, and was able to communicate images and feelings to other people, when she felt like doing it. Fëanáro would challenge anyone who spoke ill of his half-sister, often by calling her Findis the Speechless or adressing her like an elfling barely twenty. She was silent, not stupid. And if he grew to love Findis fiercely, it was nobody’s business but his.

Findis’s world was far from silent when she lived in the very heart of bustling Tirion on Túna, surrounded by her parents and sibling. She was often lost in her mind, true, and she liked little being in society, but she enjoyed her family’s company and, more than anyone beside her father’s, Fëanáro’s. Her older brother was often harsh and cold to their other siblings, and outright rude to her mother, but he always had time to spare for her. They would sit in Findis’ room in silence, he reading and she drawing. Sometimes Fëanáro would ramble about his latest project, Findis occasionally asking a wordless question when things got too complicated. Other times, it was her who would share about her plans for the gardens, the floral compositions she envisioned and the colour scheme for each season, and Fëanáro would listen to her very intently, his left hand drumming on his tight in concentration and asking for clarification about the watering system or the soil quality. Yet, as time passed, these precious moments grew few and far between.

And when the family fell apart, the trees were destroyed and Finwë was killed, Findis felt like the Darkness would swallow her. She screamed into her bond with Fëanáro, unable to articulate a single thought, but only a burning rage answered her. And when, what felt like both an eternity and a blink of the eyes later, the bond between them snapped, Findis collapsed.

The Sun rose, soon followed by the Moon, and a new Age begun. Findis stayed in Tirion with Arafinwë and her mother. Yet Indis had walled her mind, retired deep inside her own self, and she was as far away as Nolofinwë or Lalwen. And her brother had little time to spare for the mute princess, so busy he was learning to rule Tirion and try make amends to his wife. Findis was left to herself and, despite the distance sundering them, she felt each bond to her siblings break one after the other, until she was alone in an all encompassing silence.

Each time I try to write something about Findis, it turns to a tragedy so, sorry, I guess?

Anyways, I hc that Fëanor doesn’t hates his half-siblings, not before Morgoth starts manipulating everyone anyways. He is jealous from the fact they have a mother and him not. He can’t stand Indis and resent her for marrying Finwë. As they grow up, he always argues with his brothers and often ignore his sisters, but I can’t see him being outright mean to them until the incident with the sword. Fingolfin wouldn’t have followed him to Middle-Earth otherwise. And I also hc that Fëanot took one look at baby Findis with the firm resolution to hate her but immediately fell for her chubby face, wide eyes and soft dark hair; she looks too much like Finwë. He also feels less ‘replaced’ in Finwë’s heart by his half-sister than his half-brother.

And Quenya names are a pain to write.

#all of arda is autistic 2023 #tolkien #the silmarillion #findis #feanaro #feanor #nonspeaking autistic character #sibling relationship #sad ending #ficlet #writing prompt

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dhovgaard · 1 year ago

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Here is an excerpt From Bridge of memory book two:

Hundreds of light years away Reynolds and Stratham were not in doubt as to the hostility of their opponents. The Robots having lost what they thought of as their property had slipped the bonds of sanity completely and were at the time of the two soldiers arrival destroying each other and laying waste to the city in the process.

It didn't take either Grover or Philip long to figure out that they should be elsewhere. If the three they had come to find were in the city, they were most likely dead and if they weren't dead both men hoped that they had a good place to hide.

In an effort to avoid detection they slowly moved from cover to cover back the way they had come, and they almost made it. Grover could see the ropes dangling down from above and he hoped the men they had left to guard the pad had the good sense to hide.

But as fate, that cold hearted little shit that smacks the three ladies around would have it, there was a minor war going on between them and their goal. About a hundred of the city's robots were dismantling each other with particle beams and good old-fashioned physics.

They had formed up on either side of the canon opposite the path leading up to the transport pad on the rim. Their action took the form of mad rushes from either side weapons blazing as they cut through metal creating a great cascade of sparks. Then after slamming into each other like asteroids in random orbits, they would trade particle beam blasts at close range while they retreated to opposite sides only to have another pair rush out on the same errand.

It was the most unintelligible battle Stratham had ever witnessed. The only objective seemed to be to cause as much damage as possible until a robot was put out of commission. Then it would be fired on by both sides until it was a smoking ruin.

There was no attempt at mounting a mass attack or holding territory or advancing. They just blasted each other. Unfortunately, as long as this went on Reynolds and Stratham could not reach the pad on the rim of the canyon where the rest of their squad waited.

There only alternative was to await the outcome of the contest and hope that whichever side prevailed would leave the area allowing them to continue.

That tactic probably would have worked if the combatants had not suddenly stopped pounding each other and turned in mass towards their position.

"Oh, shit Philip" mumbled catching Grover's attention.

"What" Grover asked as he watched the rear.

"They must have spotted us we got to move" Reynolds told him.

Together they fired a salvo of explosive rounds into the heart of the advancing mass then turning they lit up the sky with short range fire and forget rockets that sought out any energy or life signature that was not squawking friendly and gave it a very bad day.

"Dam" Grover called to Reynolds; "I knew that your luck would run out someday I just hoped it wouldn't be while I was with you."

Philip was too busy running for his life and firing at an enemy that had suddenly appeared behind them to come up with a ready retort but, if he had it would have probably been something like "hell cap you didn't think you'd get to live forever did you."

"Jumping through hot gates was not the way to a quiet retirement and a pile of grandkids."

"Besides he would have added if he hadn't had to blast a pissed off robot out of the sky just then you knew the job was dangerous when you took it parroting a very old children's program he used to watch."

They ran and fired dodging in and out of the rocks between them and the path that led to the edge of the canyon and freedom. It almost looked like they would make it but then another very large pile of crazy metal plopped itself down square in their path and given that they were being pursued by a sizeable number of its fellows it seemed like it was game over especially since the tone in Philip's ear was telling him that he was almost out of things to throw at them.

Oh well he thought coming up short against a large stone breathing hard with Cap sliding in right next to him his gun blazing one last salvo before it up and died.

"I guess this is it Stratham said."

He pulled his side arm, twenty-pint sized shots that would have a hard time stopping an irate sparrow was all he had left. Philip looked at the counter on his own gun and saw he was down to a single digit.

"Nice knowing you Cap he told his commander and friend.

"Same here trooper Grover said saluting. What do you say, shall we go out on our feet?"

"Why the hell not Phillip agreed." So together they stood.

"Front or back Reynolds asked?"

"To the front of course just in case an incredibly unlikely series of events sees us through to the other side Stratham told him."

"Front it is then Philip agreed pulling his own puny service automatic to augment his one high explosive round."

"Ready?"

"Ready" came the reply and like two crack brain fools they broke cover yelling at the top of their lungs.

Stratham took as careful aim as one could while running flat out towards certain annihilation. One of the big ones rolled out front on a vector to crush or incinerate them while the smaller models blasted them from every angle. The odd thing was, they kept missing.

Robots should be better shots but then he had never met a crazy automation before, maybe emotionality made them just as bad as angry humans often were. Well, whatever it was he was grateful because it meant they would live just a bit longer and maybe, just maybe, that unlikely series of events would come to pass. Philip fired his sidearm until it beeped empty then taking aim at the big bruiser that had trundled into their path he let fly with his last explosive round while running full tilt directly at the thing. The round slammed home and there was an immense explosion that knocked him off his feet.

He struggled up on to his elbows expecting the end to come any second but, what he saw was that unlikely series of events unfolding before his eyes.

Someone was firing down at the massed machines from the canyon rim and the machines were taking heavy damage. Philip felt someone pull him up from behind looking back he took in the smiling face of Cap.

"Like I said, an extremely unlikely series of events" he told Reynolds pointing up at the spot on the ridge where the fire was coming from.

"Dam your luck he said, laughing I believe that is old John Lemming up there with the entire brigade come to sing us home. Let's go join the party" he suggested, and the two men walked out of the valley of death.

Years later when Stratham recounted their fool's charge to his grandchildren, he wouldn't mention that help arrived just in the nick of time. In his retelling he and Reynolds fought through to the other side before encountering the first battalion of the earth expeditionary force that had come to claim the city before it could be destroyed by its robot caretakers.

Get the rest at smashwords.com Bridge of memory book two

#writing #books & libraries

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mattcaliber · 2 months ago

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Star Wars Ex-Imperial OC

Name: Rontyr Crisgoo

Age: Late 20's

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Status: Married, Niss Crisgoo, Trandoshan.

Weapons of choice: Heavy blaster pistol and vibro-knife

Ship: Star Destroyer Dexterity

Allegiances: Former, Imperial. Current, Koboh.

Rank: Star Destroyer Admiral

Planet Location: Koboh

Time: 5 years post New Hope

Bio: Well. The Empire is dead. Hmm. If you told me this before that waste of credits, The Death Star, was destroyed the first time around I would've said you'd be mad. But let's face it. The Empire was slowly on life-support ever since. I'm getting ahead of myself though. Best to start at the beginning.

Graduated from an Imperial Navy academy. Mostly by the dumb luck and the skin of my teeth. Unlike my colleagues, I never did fall for that propaganda that's always spewed out on the Holo-net. I only joined because it was either the academy or the mines. In hindsight though, I would have had less brushes with death if I picked the minds. But I digress.

Started off as an Ensign at first, but it wasn't long before I moved up the ranks. Mostly due to my predecessors being "retired" rather early. Not that uncommon really. Word about that did spread quickly. Thought they just rumors at first. Was until I was assigned to the Star Destroyer Dexterity that I found out those all too true when my Lieutenant was "accidentally" sent through an airlock by some cold-blooded git. Shame. Was one of the nicer ones.

When our ship was assigned to some Outer Rim world called Koboh, thought it was the end. He. Turned out to be a blessing in disguise. We were FAR from all the major conflicts. Were able to maintain relations with the locals. Even set-up some rather profitable trade routes. Wasn't till the second credit waster was destroyed that things really started to change.

It was slow at first. Restrictions were lessened. Attitudes were improving. Was even able to go to this one bar run by someone the name of Greez Dritus. Nice if not a bit stiff. Was at that bar that I found my love. A fierce, strong as a rancor trandoshan named Niss. Got on my knees and asked for her hand. After she and I had a few bar brawls. He! Still keeps the first tooth she knocked out of me. What a woman.

After I became Admiral, I had a few choices to make. Three big ones came real quick once Imperial warlords popped up and the New Republic was formed. Become one of those warlords, join the New Republic Navy or the one that I did pick. Help and establish a new government for Koboh. Wasn't easy. Starting anything new ever is. But it was worth it.

Did I have opposition? Of course I did. Were there arguments on how the new gov should be run? I lost count. In the end though, we did it. We built something new. We built a new home. One that I'll fight tooth and claw to keep safe. And if any of those warlords try to start something, well, they'll have the entire force of Koboh and its people reckon with. I pity the poor soul that tries.

Anyway, before I sign off and start my new position, I have one thing to say. I wasn't really loyal to anything. Mostly because I never found anything to be loyal to. Now I have. And if anyone or anything tries to destroy it, I'll make sure they don't live to regret.

This is Admiral Rontyer Crisgoo of Koboh's Navy signing off.

#star wars #oc #ex-imperial

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selphplusplus · 2 years ago

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Alternate dimensions

Event horizon, oh, how we play with darkness

Prelude

The first one was written for a different timeline

I figure it’s time to correct the record

Erect a verbal monument

Resurrect her

Play Sylvia Plath Lofi in the background

Instead of stepping back from the event horizon,

this time, in this timeline

I dived in.

I let the darkness swallow me

like she did

Bottled up the hurt and pain like I was a brrwery,

Cauldron bubble and fuck that witch shit

Have a glass from the tap of broken heart

Burned twice,

ash from ash,

passed from a past I never got passed.

Sprinkle in a dash of relapsed

Extended stay in the room of

anger, shame, and profound sadness

That's the point, the place in time were presently at.

But I jumped in.

And I followed it to its neverend

No hearts left to mend,

Instead, there’s hearts to rend,

Eviscerate the left open ends

Open scars and pick the scabs

watch the blood flow

So slowly into the black hole

Space time never felt so cold.

This time I can REALLY see everything

Last time I thought I could see it all

But I’d never binged so long on darkness

Answered the call.

Lucifer before and after the Fall

The Garden now just doG bones

On the Eve of its demise

The snake whispered to her

In just the right rhythm.

Or so the video shows

A cabaret show

So let us revisit the once hopeful ode

Return to reality,

repay the debt that you were owed.

Sorrow is more accurate a color

For on this canvas I release

But I find no peace.

But still I find no peace.

I found a piece though

there’s a karmic thrill in that

Returning the favor, her to me

Retiring the favor, me to you

As the story unfurls

Keep in mind that I fucked your girl,

While with pretty words and empty assurances

“I want you”

said she wanted to be mine,

Needed time, living on the already borrowed kind.

The light went out

My heavy machinery was scrapped

Everybody even you became the enemy

When the bell rang and visiting hours were over

For the first time, I flicked the switch to off

When I left the room.

“Wanted to be mine,” but really doesn’t,

said pretty words

Not so many actions

lots of false starts,

but evasive tactics.

Whistle blows,

Encroachment on the defense,

15 heart penalties,

Repeat going down

Welcome to the prelude

of the first act.

Oh, if you could see what I see now

Like the rocks, after millions of years of water flowing through them

Molecules being picked apart

At torturously slow speed

Brain being picked apart by the

GI Joe Kung fu grip of speed

Touchdown,

Mushroom tip clouds

Seeds planted

And kids on her back, play date.

And so we start,

Part by part,

Patchwork,

Let me show you how to mend artfully,

to stitch up a millennia of broken hearts.

(The rewrite of this comes next)

Act 1 : Manifest this; gfy and be a ghost

Heatwaves in the shadows…

///

Be the event horizon.

A paradox of sun

and black hole in duality.

Dialectical , ironically.

Emitting light

But destroying it instantly

Still it burns

Fusion of fusions

An internal god.

In perfect balance.

Leaving nothing but gold

But With no glitter

To any that dares

Step into its orbital pressure.

Re-rebirth

On the precipice, peering off balance over the edge.

Velocity of 9.8

stumbled into each other’s lives

Clumsy accident

Now falling, falling, falling

What seems like a forever trip down

But on the way to mutually assured destruction,

We touched that human part

That resides deeper than the soul.

The best of loves are found

Precisely when you’re not looking for it.

Illuminate my darkness with your ultraviolet 💜.

Heartbeats in technicolor.

I’ll warm you with an invisible infrared ❤️

Connected across polar spectrums

Into an irresistible blackhole pull.

Where the tiniest parts of us are smashed together.

One last spark swirling on the event horizon,

The Falling stopped.

The past and the future in 360° visible at the same time in the present.

Only brief instance, too small to measure

Then we became our own gravitational forces.

Only to be crushed into entropic Oneness.

Despite all our differences we’re still more the same than not.

So let us immolate ourselves in the stars of the universe we build after this next Big Bang.

We shall birth galaxies

Our children the stars and planets.

Our legacy a consciousness that arises out of our creation

Super nova heartbeats, and the life that comes after is merely our self-reflection.

Heat death or Absolute Zero,

Lukewarm isn’t an option when our souls pulse with the cores of nebulas.

///

Above three moments in space time are. Out of sync

They must be corrected.

So we have an accurate record

I’ll be in the writing room,

Four below

With words so cold

The ice in my veins, might freeze.

I only hope you go down one more time

Under the cold pacific floes

This place will become your tomb.

#poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #writing #dark art #trust issues #me myself and i #fuck love

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mutatedangels-a · 1 year ago

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I have to know for myself if she's in there.

Eli remembered saying the same exact thing about Skip's funeral. That he had to know for himself that Skip was in there. In that second version of home that, too, had four walls and a roof. Skip always thought he was going to die valiantly, overseas at war, a sacrificial lamb for the greater good. Hell, he'd had more than a decade to do so before the whole crew retired. The disappointment on his face when the doctors told him that he was sick was palpable.

So he didn't blame the woman. Eli himself would go through stupid lengths to confirm things, no matter how many times somebody tried to convince him one way or another. He was stubborn like that. To a fault.

Recently he'd had an epiphany that some things were going to stay the way they were and that he couldn't be the tide to change any of it. Permanence existed for a reason; it had almost as much of a purpose as change. One of the things that were going to stay everlong was the fact that Skip was dead. Another thing was that these mountains were shrouded in mystery.

It was stupid to be up here with Yvette knowing that it could end in consequences much worse than spending some time behind bars. He liked to think he wasn't a believer in all the rumors—that they were just hearsay in a tiny town off the map that didn't have anything better to do. But a part of him was tempted by belief. Was just the slightest bit curious that...

"Sometimes," he confessed, slowly trekking upward on the path, closer and closer to the entrance of the mines. "But you can look back at all of the other lookout logs from years past. Everyone felt some type of way in the crow's nest. Some felt more paranoid than others. Not everyone's meant to be all alone in the middle of nowhere for such a long time."

They stood in front of the mine entrance now. It was blocked off by tall, wire fences and a metal-framed wire door that needed a key. He huffed, then spotted a rock, picking it up and trying it out for size. It would be big enough to destroy the lock, but the hopes of getting by without being noticed would be diminished if anyone heard them. Here's to hoping.

With one fell swoop, Eli bludgeoned the lock with the rock. He had to do it a couple of times before it finally broke.

He opened the door and stepped through. The mouth of the mine was empty, abysmal. The temperature dropped a few degrees and there was a peculiar silence that engulfed the entire entrance, a stark difference from outside, where birds and bugs chirped and buzzed. And daylight, which was quickly fading away, only gave them a few feet of vision. He assumed they'd be able to walk for only another minute or so before they would be interrupted by the need to descend.

"You got your flashlight?" he whispered, taking his own out and switching it on.

Yvette nearly cried with relief when Eli had decided to help her after all and take her up the mountain to look for her sister. The brunette was feeling suddenly invigorated and she was quick to pick a time and went back to the cabin she was staying out to prepare to meet him the next morning to get started on heading up the mountain. Yvette was not a very outdoorsy person but she luckily owned a pair of hiking boots from the time she'd walk trails with her siblings in the hills outside the city. Those things were nothing though compared to the mountain she now found herself on. She had a small pack with some essentials and she followed Eli's lead as he began to lead her towards the entrance of the mines, keeping an eye out along the way for any signs that could give her an idea of where Alejandra could be.

She followed in close step with the male, trying to watch where she stepped as her mind was taken back to when she had migrated with her family to the States, remembering all the treacherous desolates areas of land they had to make their way through. She had made it through that and used that knowledge to push her forward now. If she could help the kids to safety then, then she could help bring Ale back to safety now as well.

They'd been walking for some time and the higher they got, the more uneasy Yvette had began to feel. She never liked heights, or even forests for that matter, but there was something about these woods in particular that felt off. The air felt strange and Yvette couldn't say what, but something just didn't feel right about these woods - something beyond just being the place that her sister disappeared in. After all, what had made Alejandra run out from the cabin in the middle of the night into this place that was already so eerie now when light was still out. What had she seen?

Yvette pushed the thought away for a moment when they reached the barbed-wire fence. This is where the mountain was closed off which had to mean they were getting close now and she felt anxious jitters begin to arise. She watched Eli get up the path to get over the fence and then made her way over with a bit of his help .

Upon stepping on the other side, the brunette let out a small huff of breath, feeling a bit winded by this point and not being used to these high altitudes. She leaned her hands against the fence for a moment before looking up in the same direction of the officer, feeling her heart begin to speed up as she could see them - the mines - off in the distance but they were there. And maybe so was her sister.

The sound of Eli's voice had Yvette turning to look back over at him. Was she sure about this? Not particularly, no. There was something inside her that was like an alarm flashing danger but she had to ignore it. She had to do this for her sister no matter how uneasy she felt about it now. "I have to —" she said looking back towards the mines for a moment. "I have to know for myself if she's in there."

Finally turning back to Eli, she sighed. "Can I ask you something?" she added. "Do you ever feel or see anything strange out here on the mountain?"

#sympathyforawolf #c. eli #eli x yvette #v. those mines have been closed for almost a century

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angelamajiki · 4 years ago

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[ peace treaty - part two ]

AN: my first banner that I made for a fic!! Please enjoy and mind the tags as always!! :)

CW: yandere, noncon, loss of virginity, double penetration, coercion, gang bang, A/B/O dynamics, size difference, slight tummy bulge, cum stuffing, breeding

PART ONE

SYNOPSIS: The wedding to ensure peace for your kingdom was underway. Your alphas had been insistent that you met your new pack and give your virginity to them the night of your wedding. You could only wonder why.

The village of the Barbarian tribe was full of the hustle and bustle of wedding preparations being made for their leading Alphas and their newfound Omega mate. You could hear the rushing of bodies outside the tented den the pair kept you confined to. They were insistent on keeping you within their firm grasp, their watchful eyes at all times. It was exhausting, so say the least. The time spent in the village was theirs, not your own. Their tenderness almost made you forget the circumstances on which you fell into their laps. Almost.

Hardly anyone else in the village had seen you thanks to your red-headed mate. Dragons rarely let anyone but their pack near their hoard, and Eijirou was more than happy to declare you his most precious treasure of all, the centerpiece of his store. The hybrid was tempted to keep you with the rest of his treasures, but his other mate decided against it, demanding that you stay warm in the nest during the blistering winter that ravaged the mountain range.

They kept in the nest for as long as you would tolerate it, adoring the way you looked wrapped snuggly in the furs they had slain and prepared for you. The den was soon furnished with a small library for your curious mind, one of many wedding presents that your mates intended to spoil you with. Your mates were desperate for your approval, to preen and puff their chests in pride from your praise. In fact, one of the only times you were let out before the wedding was to watch wrestling matches between the Alphas of the clan and their leaders on the warmer days. It was a prominent display of strength, the pair hoping to impress their lovely mate with their fists and muscles. The other times, they had taken you to Eijirou’s cave to flaunt his hoard, which they welcomed you to take anything you liked from it as it was now yours too.

Winter flew by quickly. In those few months, preparations for your spring wedding were well underway as your mates took their agonizing time to stake their claim on you. The pair of them were insistent on waiting until the wedding night to be fully bonded but did not spare you any pleasure they wished to bestow you. The ecstasy they brought you night after night was earth-shattering, something you never even dreamed you could have achieved.

A spring wedding was to be had, and the wait was finally over. Your dress was designed of the most delicate silk hand-made in the tribe, dipped in beautiful red and gold dyes to match your mate's garments. Precious jewels and other gold jewelry was selected from the dragon's hoard by none other than Eijirou himself. Traditional paint was brushed onto your face and arms with expert craftsmanship, adorning your glowing skin with the clan's insignia and other symbols held dear to the Barbarians.

Meeting your mates down the aisle and finally being wed to them felt like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. For months, you had worried that their threat to destroy your home would see to its fruition, but now that you're finally their wife and mate, the treaty had been completed. Perhaps your mates would be kind enough to let you see your family after the celebration.

Festivities were planned for days to celebrate the new queen and pack mate of the tribe’s leaders. Being out of the den and meeting the clansmen felt like a breath of fresh air after being secluded for those few months up until the wedding. You could only hope that your husbands would allow this new freedom to continue.

Food, drink, and dancing went well into the early morning hours before you decided it was time to retire to your den. Buzzing with anticipation, you let Katsuki lead you home with a scarred hand on the small of your back, reminding you just how small you were in comparison to your Alphas. Tonight was the night that you submitted utterly and entirely to your mates. It was overwhelming, almost enough to give you cold feet.

Upon returning to the tented den, you were met with your new pack, the Alphas that Eijirou and Katsuki introduced you to earlier that day during the ceremony. TestsuTetsu, leader of the clan’s warriors. Sero and Denki, leading blacksmiths and protectors of the armory. Izuku, also known as Deku, leading military strategist. And Hitoshi, the tribe’s mage.

The tent’s magic flaps had sealed themselves once you and your mates made it inside with the rest of the pack, who were already waiting for you. Unease had swelled in your gut as you saw the hungry gleams in all the Alpha's eyes. Did they have the intention to watch while you bonded with your mates?

“Be easy, my love.”

Eijirou’s hands came to your shoulders in an attempt to soothe you as he guided you to your nest.

“Although you will be our mate, you will still be the pack’s omega.”

You nodded slowly, having already understood that much, but it still didn't explain why the rest of the pack was suffocating the space of your den.

“That means you will have to form a bond with all of us. We intend to share you with the pack tonight.”

Panic filled your being as you stood up from the nest, only to be pinned down into the redhead’s lap with his powerful arms. His hands rubbed soothing circles in your arms as he felt you squirm in his hold.

“There’s no reason to be afraid, my queen!” Izuku piped up as he flashed a reassuring smile. “This is the best way to ensure that you will give healthy pups to the pack and the clan.”

Tears and pleas dribbled out as you thrashed in your Alpha’s arms, desperate to claw your way out of his grip and away from the new pack.

“Stop yer fussin’,” Katsuki grunted as he took his place next to the both of you. “We’ll be right here the whole time. Besides, it’ll be a good way for the pack to bond. We wouldn't want anything to happen to your territory, now would we?”

Chuckles filled the room as you sobbed in absolute terror.

“Please! I don't want this! Don't make me do this; I'm begging you!”

A fatal mistake on your part is that you forgot who these men were. Barbarians who snatched, steal, and take whatever they please, whenever they please. Your mates were capable of tenderness, but only when it seemed to benefit them. And it didn't at this moment.

Eijirou was quick to quell your cries as he stroked your hair gently while Katsuki tied your hands together. The redhead whispered sweet nothings in your ear in an attempt to soothe his lovely omega. You were practically hog-tied into your nest as the blonde ripped your dress to shreds with his magic, your struggling between the pair of them frustrating him deeply.

“Enough fucking around. Omega, submit.”

Unable to deny such a command, you went still under your overbearing husband. How quickly he changed once you truly denied him for the first time...it frightened you. The men around you tried to croon and calm, wanting to put your wailing cries at ease. You had barely been touched and you already felt violated by being naked and bound before your new pack. Oh, things you had to endure to protect your kingdom.

Katsuki was overzealous, eager to be the first to pop your cherry and finally feel the velvet of his omega’s hole. A searing mouth sealed itself over your clit as thick fingers worked you open. Your mate was relentless, fucking your hole with vigor as his tongue sucked and lapped against your clit. The wanton groaning of the other Alphas met your squeals and cries as you clenched around your mate’s fingers, wishing desperately to sink into your nest of furs and never return.

Eijirou kissed you deeply, stroking away your tears and holding your chin in his scarred palm. The other Alphas hands groped, massaged, and grabbed at your supple skin, leaving no inch untouched. All of them ignored your sobbing, electing to see past your suffering for the good of the pack.

“So beautiful.”

“What a great pick you two made.”

“Hurry up and mount her Kats! I want to get in there too!”

Your Alpha continued his brutal pace of finger fucking and suckling on your clit, groaning and grunting as he slurped at you greedily. A tight coil of pleasure built in your core as you helplessly moaned and cried into Eijirou’s mouth. Katsuki felt your impending orgasm and pulled his mouth away in favor of rubbing your clit hard and fast with his unoccupied hand. He chuckled, watching you squirm and squeal loudly before coming undone, squirting all over his chest in the process.

The Alphas jeered and praised you for a good show as Katsuki chuckled.

“Now that’s what I’m fuckin’ talking about. Good girl, little omega. Ready for knot?”

A wolfish grin cast on his features as he hiked your ankles up to his shoulders. Cock lines up with your still twitching whole; he sunk into your tight heat in one stroke of his hips. A breathy gasp left you as you were filled to the brink.

The pace he set with his thrusts was unforgiving; a bruising grip laid on your love handles as you were pounded into the nest, making a mess of the furs strewn across it. Snarls and grunts left your captor’s lips all the while. The other Alphas around you stroked their cocks heartily, eagerly waiting for their turns to have a go and breed their new pack omega. Squeals and cries of unwanted pleasure quickly filled your gut as you came again, forcing you to arch your back into the blonde’s chest. Overstimulation hit you like a freight train as your mate continued to chase his own pleasure.

Eijirou brushed the hair from your sweaty forehead and swiped gently at your tears, watching his two mates finally tie the knot and love each other in the most primal, intimate ways they knew. What a fine choice for a mate you turned out to be—loyal, lovely, loud. Your sobs and cries of pleasure were music to the dragon’s ears, adoring the way you shook and convulsed underneath the other Alpha. Toying with your nipples gently, he shushed your protests with a kiss and held his free hand to your throat, stroking the sides tenderly.

Katsuki, on the other hand, was practically feral, animalistic in his movements as he popped his knot into your tight cunt with a roar of your name. Ropes of hot seed painted your womb as he held you tightly in his arms, riding his orgasm out to completion.

Nothing but groans and pants could be heard for a few moments as your Alpha bent down to lay a claiming mark on the glands of your neck. He tore into the flesh with passion, leaving a trail of blood that dripped down your sweaty chest. Laving at the mark with his tongue, he sealed the bond and slurped up the blood. Extending his neck, he pushed your head into his crook.

“Bite, complete the bond.”

Like an obedient breeding bitch, you listened mindlessly, mind foggy with the haze of your orgasms.

After his knot had deflated, Eijirou moved to mount your sloppy hole.

“Guess the rest of you are getting my sloppy seconds,” Katsuki smirked, admiring the way his seed dripped from your now loose hole.

Eijirou was more tender than his counterpart, taking his time with his sweet, sweet lovemaking. Possessive and sweet nothings were moaned and groaned from him—bite marks littered your chest and mouth. His thrusts with slow and deep, wanting a slow build to both of your orgasms as he lavished you in his undivided attention. Kisses and bites were pressed sweetly to your lips, and his tongue tasted the salt of your skin.

Your whimpers and moans mingled with his deep, rolling groans while the others were content to watch such a passionate display of Eijirou’s adoration for his Omega. Laying his claim as he came, the knot popped the moment as he bit into your wrist, suckling at the wound he left behind. Even after he deflated, he cockwarmed you for a while so you could rest and have a much-needed drink of water.

After Eijirou’s cock slipped out of your cunt, the rest was a murky blur in your memory. Izuku followed your redheaded mate, losing himself quickly to the vice of your wet and sloppy pussy. He came rather quickly, apologizing for only finishing himself off. He had to, for the sake of pups, of course. Not that any of their words mattered to you, you were too drunk off the mating bonds your mates laid into your virgin skin.

TetsuTetsu succeeded Izuku, and much like Katsuki, he was an animal. Loud slaps of skin filled the den as he praised you for being such a good omega for your Alphas. Bear them your healthy pups like a good girl, won't you? His stamina was high, too high for your liking. Slipping in and out of consciousness, you barely made recognition to his knot swelling in your hole. He was by far the biggest of the pack. Another load pumped into the pack’s personal cumdumpster, but he made sure to make you squeal and squirt on his cock.

Any defiance in you had died by the time Sero and Denki speared you on their cocks. What they lacked in girth, they made up for in length. They both greedily stuffed themselves into your pussy at the same time, one rubbing your clit while the other tugged at your nipples. Only one knot caught inside you while Denki’s popped just below your clit, making an even bigger mess to your already sloppy pussy.

Finally, Hitoshi cast a fertility ward on your womb, marked by the pack’s emblem to ensure pregnancy and a healthy one at that. An average knot, he finished himself within your already full womb, a small bulge appearing in your gut because of it. A plug was stuffed inside you to keep the pack’s seed deep within your cunt, to ensure pregnancy of the pack’s pups.

Once the sun broke over the dawn of the mountains, the pack exited the tent to leave you to your Alphas. They spent the morning bathing and feeding you, wanting to pamper you after such an exciting yet stressful evening. The pair hoped you would come around to be shared by the pack; how else will they get you through your heats and their ruts? That's a problem for another day, they supposed.

After a long, well-deserved rest in a now cleaned nest, Eijirou was ecstatic to share the news of their newest surprise. A honeymoon! Oh, the places they planned to fly you to.

As you listened to their plans, you couldn't help but gaze off into the next morning’s sun, wondering if this life was worth it for the sake of peace.

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dimdiamond · 3 years ago

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Bagginshield fic list

Yeah, I decided to make one too because there are enough to cause me headaches and I'd like to have them somewhere organized. Please look at the tags before reading them!

Fix-it fics

Desperate magic by BeautifulFiction: Bilbo is left to tend Thorin as he hovers on the brink of death after the Battle of the Five Armies. Is love enough to save Erebor's king, or is this the last farewell?

Lay your troubles down by Avelera: An extended version of "the acorn scene." Bilbo sees his chance to snap Thorin out of his madness, and takes it.

The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction: The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place. Then there is the matter of the gold... Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

The Color of Possibility by lindoreda: When Bilbo puts himself between Thorin and Azog's blade, his mithril shirt protecting them both, it isn't long before some dwarves whisper that 'Oakenshield' might not be the best epithet for their king anymore. But for Bilbo, barred from Thorin's sight since the battle, this new epithet only adds to the sting. Spending his days caring for the recovering princes, Bilbo wonders how much more of this he can take, not suspecting his place at the center of a silent divide in the company.

Homesick by Margo_Kim: Five years after they've reclaimed Erebor, Thorin is sick of home, Bilbo is just sick, and neither is handling the situation ideally.

The Road Delivered Us Home by keelywolfe: In the years since Bilbo left Erebor, he has lost his respectability, gained a nephew, and gotten on with life at Bag End. He'd left aside adventure for the comforts and peace of his little Hobbit hole, and for the love of a child who needed him. Though perhaps, adventures can yet find him.

Notices in the Paper by YamBits: Bilbo returns to the Shire after his adventure, newly married, and newly homeless, after his two year absence allowed the Sackville-Bagginses to obtain Bag End. Bilbo and Thorin go to the Tooks for help, and find newly orphaned Frodo Baggins, also looking for a home.

A Royal Guardianship by ladyoakenshields: When Bilbo and Thorin return to the Shire for a sabbatical during Yuletide, they find a reason to retire the throne in Erebor sooner than expected.

The Shire's gems by awkwarng3: Thorin, Bilbo, and Frodo move to the Shire after raising Frodo in Erebor, and Frodo makes a friend.

Time travel fix-it fics

An expected journey by MarieJacquelyn: For years Bilbo has written about his adventures and told stories about his dealings with dwarves and dragons. To most it seemed like fanciful nonsense but to Bilbo it was all very real. A weight followed him home from his travels, one called regret. Now in his final moments Bilbo has a choice to make – go quietly into death’s embrace or go back again and face all the fear and pain for the chance to make things right? Of course, change is a fickle thing and not everything can be done again as Bilbo is about to find out. In the end, it may not only be salvation that he’s fighting for.

Bilbo Baggins, warrior of the Valar by Pallalalo: Bilbo raised his eyebrows. “And you’ve come to the Shire to look for this someone? My, Gandalf, I wonder if you know Hobbits at all. They would tell you that adventures are nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. That they would make you late for dinner.” Bilbo recalled his own words perfectly. It had been something he and Gandalf had looked back on with bittersweet laughter. This Gandalf however noticed his exact words. “Would they now? And what about you, mhm? What would you tell me about adventures?” #The Valar send Bilbo back in time, to the day where Gandalf asks him to join in an adventure. After living a lifetime of regret and suffering, he vows to change things for the better. For Thorin. For Frodo. But will he succeed?

I'll die to care for you by thehufflepuffhobbit: His gaze landed on Mahal's eyes once more. "You did your best, Thorin." It was tempting to look away; he wanted to deny that with everything he had. It certainly didn't feel as though falling into Gold Sickness and then dying was doing his best. Mahal smirked, as though he knew Thorin's desire to contradict him, and pinched his cheek before walking over to a table. "Aye, I didn't think you would believe me. I'm not lying, it certainly could have gone better. More according to my plan, but I know you really did try." "Your plan?" He didn't know if he should ask, really. Knowing that his Maker had set a course for him, he didn't want to think about the ways he had done everything wrong. There were too many examples of mistakes in his long life, too many opportunities that he had missed that had probably been planned for him from the beginning. Or:Mahal feels like Thorin fucked up his legacy and gives him a do over.

Darker times ahead by Reach4theSky: Bilbo is sailing to the Undying Lands but wary of letting go of the guilt that has been with him for many decade. His most sincerest wish is to go back and change what was done. Before reaching the lands of peace and healing, he dies aboard the ship and finds that his wish is being granted, not because he is the one to wish it but because this is the dwarves last chance to escape a fate of eternal waiting. He finds that not only is he going to be sent back to his younger body, but so is the entire Company of Thorin Oakenshield. Time is a fickle thing and not all the members have their memories returned to them at the same time. The journey on becomes interesting as the dwarves slowly remember and fight for themselves and their kin, yet new hurdles are thrown at them when they realize that more people remember than expected...

Of an arcane binding by Salvia_G: An inexplicable magic ties Bilbo Baggins, hobbit of the Shire, to Thorin, dwarven prince of Erebor.

Legends by DomesticGoddess: The fellowship has set out on its noble quest to destroy the ring and put an end to the threat that is Sauron! Just set out really, barely left the gates of Imladris, but things are going smoothly enough so far. That is until the two most unlikely party crashers fall upon their little fellowship. Uncle Bilbo and the Legendary Thorin Oakenshield?! Frodo just wants to know what's going on but the two of them won't stop hollering at each other long enough for anyone to get a word in edgewise. Suddenly, their little group is joined by Frodo's two biggest heroes and he discovers there was a lot more to Uncle Bilbo's stories than he realized.

Beside myself by bliboboggins: "What are you doing? Just who do you think you are?" Startled, Bilbo turned around slowly. And there, in a familiar patchwork dressing gown, brandishing a fire poker wildly about, was... Bilbo.

Erebor never fell au fics

The hearth doesn't make the home by Moonrose91: For things Bilbo could not change, he was condemned to a life of isolation, with the belief that none could love him. And then a Dwarf came to Hobbiton.

Clarity of vision by Mithen: In a Middle-Earth where Erebor never fell, a shadow remains in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. Bilbo Baggins finds himself drawn reluctantly into a quest that will lead him across the continent--from Bree to Lake Evendim to the icy North and beyond--with a party of five dwarves searching for an artifact that will cure the ailing King Thrór.

Ghivashel by mdseiran: The last thing Bilbo expects when he stays up late one night is company. The strange dwarf and his companion crash into his life and prove unexpected saviours. But the dwarf seems to think he will be joining them on their travels, and Bilbo has no such intentions.

The Song of My Heart by DomesticGoddess: After a failed attempt of trying to carve out a new home in the Blue Mountains for his people, Thorin finds himself beseeching the Hobbit Thain and his council for a place for his people in their bountiful land. An agreement is struck and plans in the works for integrating his people into their land. The only condition being an arranged marriage between himself and one of their family heads. A small price to pay to see his people safe and well fed. Unfortunately, he’s to marry the most disagreeable hobbit in all the Shire who also seems to hold a personal grudge against him. If only he could figure out why his new betrothed hates him so much.

Oak and Mistletoe by HildyJ: After a life dominated by a strange form of sickness, Thorin is sent to the Shire to seek a cure only Bilbo Baggins can offer.

Karkûn shukula - A Cinderella AU by harrypanther: When the Prince of the Shire visits the Kingdom of Erebor, there is great excitement. There are hopes he will choose to marry one of the Royal Family, cementing an alliance that would secure food supplies for the dwarven Kingdom and gain new allies. All eligible dwarves are expected to attend a series of Balls. Unknown to the guests, there is a third royal child, manoeuvred out by his ambitious stepmother, for whom this may be his last chance of restoring his fortunes and escaping his fate…

Alone this Yuletide by Emsiecat: 'Alone this Yuletide? Irritated with prying and nosey family members? I am an out of work blacksmith currently trying to make my way by any means necessary that does not involve my resorting to thievery (prisons are most uncomfortable, I've unfortunate first hand experience). However, if you would like me to be your strictly platonic companion for any social function, but have me pretend that we are in a serious courtship, so as to torment your family and ward off unwanted suitors then I am more than obliging...' After becoming increasingly irritated by overtures of romance from various Shire residents following the death of his mother four years ago, Bilbo is more than ready to resort to desperate measures. That is, up to and including pretending to be in a serious relationship with a certain surly blacksmith currently inhabiting the Bindbale Woods. It's a good idea after all; all they have to do is pretend to be in love over the Yuletide period and Bilbo's family and suitors will surely leave him alone after that. It's perfect! And nothing can possibly go wrong, right? Certainly nothing as preposterous as falling for one another for real...

Modern au fics

Nothing gold can stay by perkynurples: Bilbo Baggins led a rather peaceful life, thank you very much, until an old acquaintance decided to turn it upside down, and he found himself agreeing to take a job that’s… let’s say not exactly up his alley, and might eventually cost him a little more than his treasured cozy lifestyle. Who would have thought tutoring a slightly menacing monarch’s more than slightly overbearing nephew could prove to be such an adventure?

Love-In-Idleness by perkynurples: Taking Bilbo Baggins, a successful movie actor who is only just getting used to the perks and intricacies of becoming A Face People Want To See, and putting him together with Thorin Oakenshield, with his very traditional (read: slightly backwards) ideas about what constitutes Real Art and Real Talent, might very well be viewed as just some clothead’s idea of a joke. But there are jokes, and then there are carefully calculated risks the size of controversial reproductions of classic Shakespearean plays - for Bilbo, it is the chance of a lifetime to prove himself to all those who have ever deemed him too one-dimensional to even attempt stage, while Thorin has the opportunity to get out of the rut that’s been hindering his career for so long now, and shine in a role worthy of his talent once again. That is if the two learn how to share the same space for more than ten minutes without wanting to tear each other’s hair out. The course of true love never did run smooth, after all…

Candid by northerntrash: Thorin wasn't entirely sure why there was a six-foot candid photograph of him hanging in this exhibition, but he was going to wring the neck of whoever had put it there. In which Bilbo is a photographer, Thorin an accidental model, and Gandalf just likes to make trouble for everyone.

How the west was won and where it got us by stickman: Bilbo is a harried 1st year British literature Ph.D. (early 20th century fiction) who happens to have an interest in spatial narrative structures, a lack of time-management skills, and a tiny apartment with a lot of books and very little furniture. He’s stressed, always, and doesn't quite know where he belongs. He tells himself that really, this is, in fact, what he wants to be doing. But sometimes, as much as he loves books, he gets an urge to do something with his hands. Thorin is a disgruntled M.Arch. 1 in his last year who can’t be arsed to shave and frightens his students, and, frankly, his profs, but his work is top-notch so no one can really say much. They can, however, bully him into running a hands-on design workshop on Saturday mornings, which is complete crap, because he’s used to drinking his Friday nights into oblivion so showing up at Milstein at 7:45 the next morning and trying to teach in a room of wall-to-wall windows as the sun rises is not at the top of his list. Besides, no one ever shows up. Except one morning, someone does. [graduate school AU]

Butterfly effect by eyra: Yoga wasn’t for him. Yoga was for interesting people. Luminous people; people who took gap years and spoke a foreign language. People who ate lentils and burned incense and had fantastic, colourful friends with fantastic, colourful lives full of travel and silent retreats and those baggy trousers with elephants on them. Yoga was decidedly not for people like Bilbo, who wore cardigans and ate beans on toast and whose linguistic capabilities stretched only as far as a rusty Spanish A-Level. Just your regular story of boy meets yoga instructor.

Remover of the obstacles by MistakenMagic: "Dis often chided her older brother for being a misanthropist. She did it so often it had become a term of endearment. It was true that Thorin struggled with people; he struggled to form and maintain relationships. Dr. Grey had diagnosed him with this and Thorin hadn’t the heart to tell him this wasn’t a symptom of his PTSD, it was a symptom of his personality. He exercised a sense of apathy with almost everyone he met… But Bilbo was different. Thorin actually found himself wanting to know more about him."

Color outside the lines by andquitefrankly: Kindergarten has just gotten significantly better. Just ask Thorin, who's got the biggest crush on the new kid in class, Bilbo Baggins. With the help of his friends, Thorin knows that he can take back the swings from the 1st graders, show up the K-1 class in the school pageant, and win the heart of one curly haired boy. Yup. Kindergarten is going to be a year to remember.

Bran' New Suit by pibroch (littleblackdog): Andrew's description had been sufficient to recognize him— a riot of honey brown curls, short in stature, a well-favoured face with expressive features— but it hadn't quite been enough to prepare Tom for the sharp, almost painful tug in his gut at the sight of the man. They had never met before, to the best of Tom's recollection, but there was something eerily and inexplicably familiar about him all the same.

Different species au fics

I've grown a hedge around my heart by pibroch (littleblackdog): "Thorin was the essence of so many Buckland oddities, distilled into one misfortunate young hobbit, much to his infinite embarrassment. Built like a stork, his father had said once, in an example of Thrain Brandybuck’s usual tactless humour. All beak and legs." Thorin Brandybuck, just recently come of age, still lives in his family’s smial in Buckland, with his parents and two younger siblings. Thorin is an odd duck amongst his relations and neighbours-- unsociable, grumpy, shy, and awkward. And beyond that, he looks rather strange even for a Bucklander, strongly favouring the thick, dark haired build of his Stoorish blood. It defies all sense and reason why Bilbo Baggins, an exemplar of all the respectable traits Thorin lacked, would ever desire a friendship with him. Bilbo, as Thorin discovers, is not always as sensible as he appears.

In which the dwarves are satyrs for reasons by HiddenKitty What the title says basically.

Bride of the demon king by DomesticGoddess: Thorin is King of the demons, a beast-like race feared by humans. Ever since the demons and humans formed a truce years ago, the humans have sent a young human every year as a tribute to the King of demons. Thorin is tired of having to deal with the tribute that has long since lost its meaning. The only tribute he'd be interested in is the boy he met fifteen years ago on the border of the demon and human realms. Despite his fantasies, Thorin knows the chances of ever seeing the boy again are slim to none, until they're not.

Lost He Wandered Under Leaves by serenbach: Thorin son of Thrain is a struggling blacksmith descended from a fallen line of kings. In an attempt to provide for his family over the winter, he reluctantly accepts an impossible sounding task - to hunt down an enchanted deer that lives in the Old Forest that borders the Shire, and make armour and weapons from its hide and antlers. He never expected to succeed. And he certainly never expected what he found to change his life so completely.

A Dryad's Tale by Bilbo Baggins by Moongazer12: Bilbo is a dryad (think little sibling to ents). Long ago a curse was placed upon him from destroying one of the rings of power. Whenever he touches someone with his bare skin he will make them insane. But despite this, he and Gandalf have gone on many adventures to help protect Middle Earth (What was the point to destroying the ring if something else destroyed it instead?) Gandalf has called on him once again to help on a quest, Bilbo just hopes that they read his amendments to the contract.

The quest but with a twist au fics

King, come at the red morning by Tawabids: Bilbo has heard fairytales of the lost prince of the dwarves, Thorin son of Thrain, who disappeared the day Smaug attacked the Lonely Mountain. But he does not believe in fairytales until he comes across the dwarf sleeping in the depths of Erebor, and kisses him back to life. Now Thorin - a hundred and fifty years out of his time - has to confront a world in which his city is empty, his people scattered, his baby brother Frerin is king, two nephews he's never met are missing in action, and a war is brewing right on his doorstep. And as if that wasn't complicated enough he's trapped in the body of an old man and falling stupidly in love with a gossipy, grudging little hobbit.

When the sun rises by Harry1981: Bilbo Baggins of Bag End was not a very respectable Hobbit. No respectable Hobbit had a sword and crossbow hanging in their home, nor did they have Dwarves as family. But Bilbo Baggins did, and all of Shire knew of his husband, blacksmith Thorin Oakenshield. When Bilbo comes home to find his Husband earlier than expected, he learns of a quest to reclaim Erebor. It is a death mission. Bilbo knows that Dwarves are stubborn creatures, and none more than Thorin himself. But nobody said that Bilbo himself was any less stubborn. So he will follow his dearest husband across all of Middle Earth, through plains and mountains and forests, all while hiding the true nature of their relationship (Dwarven politics never helped anyone), brushing off some old wounds (and getting new ones) and finding out new things about the dwarf Bilbo calls husband (and his extended family). Nobody ever said love was easy, after all.

Small, but fierce by DomesticGoddess: As a result of a magical mishap during the trip to the lonely mountain, Bilbo is reverted to a wee little hobbitling. Only in body, of course. His adult mind is still very aware of the indignity of it all (seriously! He doesn't need to be coddled, carried, and fed like a child). It turns out, dwarves love children and there is nothing cuter than Hobbit children. Bilbo soon realizes that he can get away with just about anything in his babyish form and starts taking full advantage of it. Even the grumpy brooding king can't deny the angelic little creature anything he desires (and Bilbo's going to milk that for all it's worth).

Your song like a home in my heart by Nennvial: In Middle Earth, all creatures have a soulmate. Not all have some, but if they do, it is a bond nothing can break, not even death. The more famous story of such a bound was the story of Bren and Luthien, who even defied detath. The way someone can find out that the other is one’s soulmate is through song: when they meet and hear the voice of the other, a song sings in their heart, which feels like home and makes them complete. They may refuse it if they wish to do so, but they hence risk a life of bitter looniness. Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins are soulmates, but they must admit it to themselves throughout their journey to Erebor.

To Dungeons Deep (And Caverns Old) by KingUndertheMountain: Bilbo Baggins was not your average hobbit. Of course, he had the wonderfully groomed and well-taken-care-of hairy feet like every other one of his race, yes, but he was not like other hobbits. He was cursed. Or, as the witch who gave him the enchantment put it, was “gifted”. She had given him the “gift” of obedience – whenever there was a direct command given to him, for example “cook a large meal” or “take a walk”, he could not disobey. Not without a lot of pain and eventual submission.

Chocolate candy one-shots

The world is sleeping (my world is you) by katheneverwrites (mandolinearts): I asked Persephone, “How could you grow to love him? He took you from flowers to a kingdom where not a single living thing can grow.” Persephone smiled, “My darling, every flower on your earth withers. What Hades gave me was a crown made for the immortal flowers in my bones.” - Nikita Gill ---“What do you mean, my friend?” There is a line of thought that surfaces in Gandalf’s mind, but he drowns it before it can take root. Surely not. But Bilbo’s chuckle sets him on edge. The small, gentle god of harvest, nature, and flowers sits up straighter, and in his crown of flowers there is a wire of strong metal, his cloak is suddenly not colorful anymore but the deepest black and he is terrifying, horrific, powerful - “I married Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the World.”

Of seasons by northerntrash: As far as he could tell, he had been kidnapped, which in itself made this week more than a little unusual. In which Bilbo steals away the Lord of Death, and Thorin can't quite bring himself to stay angry about it.

Warm up by paranoid_fridge: On one of their walks, Bilbo tumbles into a stream. They make it back to Bag End and Bilbo demands Thorin warm him up.

Royal Blue And Crimson Red by Mistofstars: Here's what happened before and after Bilbo accidentally eavesdrops on Gandalf and Elrond at night in Rivendell, as they discuss Thorin's quest and his family's history. Oh, and Thorin and Bilbo share a room, of course ;)

I was young when I left home by Margo_Kim: There was a pity clapper somewhere in the third row. Thorin finished his fourth song to polite applause from the people who noticed that the song was finished, but within the smattering of claps was someone beating his hands together like he was trying to rhythmically kill a fly. There was usually one of those, the kind who notices that no one else is paying attention and so is determined to compensate for that regardless of how they feel about the actual music. Thorin ignored him. It was easy to do so—he'd always hated looking at the audience when the singing was done.

A matter of buttons by StupidFatPenguin: “Your shirt,” says Thorin, quite out of the blue, and Bilbo looks down his front to see if there is a spot of tea or jam or anything equally embarrassing spilled on it. He is relieved to find nothing of the sort and looks up at the dwarf with an eyebrow raised in question. Thorin sits mute, his still-smoking pipe forgotten in his hand. He looks on for long moments still, seems almost lost to a thought before he shifts and lifts his gaze to meet Bilbo’s inquiring face. “It is familiar to me. Did you not wear this on the eve we met?” In which Bilbo and Thorin re-enact the evening they met.

The ladder by Milliethekitty27: Inspired from a post made by wheeloffortune-design on tumblr. Tired of his lonely kitchen in Yavanna's Garden, Bilbo Baggins wonders if the dwarven love of being underground is true in death. If so, maybe his dwarves are living (ha ha) under the very land Bilbo is weeding. With that thought, Bilbo goes and asks Hamfast for a shovel.

Love hobbit by HybridOwl: Bilbo Baggins considers himself a bit of a cock up, all things considered. He never made it out of his small highway adjacent town, can't seem to stop chain-smoking, and overall has more to talk about with the plants in his shop than 90% of all the rest of Middle Earth. So when he's reading the morning paper and a love note that can't be for anyone but him pops up, he's pretty sure - almost positive, really - that he's being made fun of. "TO the chain-smoking little stud who collects two metros from Gamgee's Goods every morning, will you be my love hobbit? - Bearded Biker." (heavily inspired by tumblr posts)

Fusion with other fandoms au fics

The Second Time by authoressjean; Sebastian Moran can't pull the trigger on John Watson to save his own hide, and what the hell is it with the doctor, anyway? Then Gandalf shows up, meddlesome wizard, and reminds him none too gently of his past life: as Thorin Oakenshield, leader of a company that had once included a small hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. One that looked decidedly like John Watson. And this would be the perfect chance to make things right with Bilbo the way he really hadn't been able to before he died, and that's when Gandalf tells him John doesn't remember being Bilbo, and to leave him alone. Right. Like that's going to happen.

And sow a star divided in us by MistakenMagic: Short summary: Gays in space! Longer summary: After his first successful solo mission, Jedi Knight Bilbo Baggins, trained by High Council member and full-time nuisance, Master Gandalf, returns to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. During an excursion to the sparring arena, he meets a group of Dwarven Jedi from Ered Luin, a mountainous planet located in the Outer Rim. Young padawans, Fili and Kili, are full of curiosity at this strange, barefoot Jedi, but Master Thorin, who appears to have the personality of a rancor and mental shields like blast doors, is less than impressed.

Comics you should definitely check

Every work by rutobuka, seriously they're criminally cute and they're not still favored by everyone without reason.

Retelling the Hobbit by Mellow_Comics: Bilbo has never been good at telling the "true" story of what happened on his journey to the Lonely Mountain. Now he's trying to turn the tale of his quest into a lighthearted children's book-- a bedtime story for his young nephew Frodo. But what really happened on his journey? And how did it actually affect him? This is a comic adaptation/retelling of the Hobbit! It's framed as a bedtime story that Bilbo is telling a younger Frodo.

For now these are some of my personal favourites! However, I'm sure my list will grow since my reading list has some gems still waiting for me to read, so be certain that there will be a part 2 of this list!

#bagginshield #fic list #bagginshield fic #they're a LOT #they're all great #thank you fic writers #thank you artists

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