#ori x ofc | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dystopicjumpsuit · 8 months

Text

Martyrs and Kings AND ZOMBIES!!!

A/N: I'm so excited to share this spooky, sexy one-shot sequel to Martyrs and Kings! I've been planning this fic for months, and I hope y'all love it. Quick note: obviously, this fic contains spoilers for M&K; however, it was beta-read by my partner who has not (yet) read the original fic, and they said it worked as a stand-alone story, so if you haven't read M&K yet and don't mind spoilers, read on!

This fic is dedicated to the amazing @clonemedickix in gratitude for all the love and support that you've shown me and so many others in the fandom. Thank you so much for everything you do, and particularly thank you for your feedback on the field medicine. You are a rock star!

One final caveat: I am a horror wimp, but I did my best. Please don't expect Stephen King 💜

Pairing: Post-stasis Kix x OFC Dr. Maree Finnall

Rating: M (minors DNI)

Wordcount: 5k (this just made M&K 10% longer lol)

Warnings and tags: peril; suspense; violence; blood and injury; gore; medical procedures; adult language; SMUT; oral sex; face-sitting; Kix activating my competence kink like no other. IMPORTANT: an additional content warning is listed at the end of the fic due to spoilers. If you have triggers, please check the end of the fic for the BOLD PINK TEXT before reading.

Summary: The crew of the Meson Martinet goes after the score of a lifetime and discover that they may have bitten off more than they can chew.

Suggested listening:

Martyrs and Kings chapter 1 | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“B1.5-series battle droids are a myth,” Kix said firmly. “You’re wasting your time.”

“The good doctor doesn’t share your opinion,” Quiggold argued.

Sidon Ithano, as usual, said nothing, his crimson helmet swiveling slowly toward Maree. Kix turned to her as well, his jaw set, his eyes full of confidence that she would back him up. Kriff it. She absolutely hated being caught in the middle of this argument.

She cleared her throat. “There’s… some debate in the academic community about their existence, actually. If they ever were created, they were never deployed at any recorded battle—and it’s a good thing, too.”

“Why is that, exactly?” Reeg Brosna asked.

He was sprawled on the bench of the dinette, his arm draped around Orys Brenko as the research assistant perked up immediately.

“Is it true that they used nanodroids to retrofit original B1-series droids?” Brenko asked, his face flushing dark green with excitement.

“That is one theory,” Maree said circumspectly, keenly aware of Kix’s scrutiny. “According to contemporary sources—and noting that those sources are unreliable at best—the B1.5s had significantly upgraded blaster resistance. There was another rumor as well, even less credible.”

“What rumor?” Reveth interrupted, leaning forward over the table, drawing Ithano’s attention subtly.

“They said the B1.5s could keep going even if you blasted their processors,” Kix cut in before Maree could reply. “It was a stupid story the commandos made up to scare the shinies.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” Brosna asked. “Indestructible battle droids? They’d be worth a fortune.”

“Even if they don’t exist, the haul from a Techno Union stronghold could set us up for life,” Reveth pointed out. “I say we go after it.”

Squeaky grunted his agreement, predictably. The Gamorrean was always guaranteed to follow the pretty Twi’lek’s lead. Reveth could have suggested a nude spacewalk, and Squeaky would have thought it was a grand idea. Brosna and Brenko voted in favor as well. Kix voted against, and Maree did as well, purely out of solidarity. Privately, she was consumed with curiosity about the B1.5s, and she couldn’t deny that the possibility of such a groundbreaking discovery was alluring in the extreme.

Quiggold voted in favor, and Ithano abstained, and so it was decided: the crew would send a team to scout the Techno Union stronghold, and if they found anything worthwhile, the rest of Ithano’s small fleet would join them.

“We’re gonna need your expertise, Doc,” Reveth said to Maree.

“Absolutely not,” Kix snapped.

Maree glanced at him in surprise. It was unlike him to try to overrule her choice, and she didn’t care for it. “Reveth is right, Kix. I’ll be able to identify the highest-value items, and I have a good idea of what’s in demand.”

Kix looked away, clearly unhappy, but recognizing that he’d overstepped. “Fine. But if you’re going, I’m going, too.”

“We’ll need you to stay and command the fleet from the Scorpion while the captain is away,” Quiggold interjected.

“Fuck that,” Kix growled. “Brosna is my first mate—he can take command from the Scorpion. When it comes to Maree’s safety, I outrank everyone on this ship.”

“Brosna doesn’t have the experience—” Quiggold began.

“Agreed,” Ithano said, his deep voice cutting through the buzz of conversation and debate in the Martinet’s galley. “Quiggold, command the fleet from the Martinet. Brosna, take the Scorpion. Reveth, Squeaky, you’re with us.”

The captain’s decision was final, and within a few hours, Kix, Maree, Reveth, Squeaky, and Ithano had boarded the Scorpion’s shuttle Stinger and departed for the desolate moon where the Techno Union base had sat untouched for over fifty years.

“Fifty credits says we find nothing,” Kix said.

“I’ll take that bet,” Reveth replied.

Squeaky grunted his agreement. Ithano said nothing.

“Maree, you want in on this action?” Reveth asked.

“Kix and I have a private bet on the side,” Maree said with a mischievous twinkle as Kix shot her an inscrutable look.

Reveth smirked. “Sounds like fun.”

“Oh, it will be,” Maree replied. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of crimson as Ithano moved through the shuttle. On impulse, she leaned in and whispered in Reveth’s ear cone.

Reveth’s eyes widened as her mechanical hand instinctively settled on Maree’s waist. “Damn. You and Kix want a third for that?”

Ithano’s helmet whipped to the side as he suddenly became very interested in the conversation. Maree suppressed a laugh.

“What do you think, Kix?” Maree asked with faux innocence. “Can Reveth play with us?”

Kix eyed her with a perfectly neutral expression that warned Maree he knew exactly what she was up to. “You gotta win that bet if you want to call the shots.”

“You’re on,” Maree replied immediately.

Ithano’s helmet swiveled from Maree, to Reveth, to Kix, and back to Reveth, but he said nothing. Kix merely turned back to the navigation controls and continued to pilot the shuttle toward their destination.

The old Techno Union stronghold was on a remote, swampy moon, and the dense vegetation had grown thickly over the past five decades. Kix was forced to set the shuttle down several klicks from the decrepit base. He didn’t like it. He didn’t kriffing like any of this. It was too far; they’d be too exposed; their progress would be too slow in the mud. He glanced at Maree and felt his anxiety spike.

How the kark am I supposed to protect her out there?

He double-checked her gear as she suited up, adjusting the fit of her holster for a quicker draw. He quickly inspected her blaster before handing it to her.

“What’s going on?” she asked quietly. “You’re on edge.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this mission.”

“It’s not the first time we’ve gone into one of these old strongholds,” she pointed out. “We’ll be okay.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re right. Just… Keep your eyes open.”

“I will,” she promised. “And I know you’ll watch my back. Just like I’ll watch yours.”

He traced his fingertips along her jaw as he pulled her closer to himself. He couldn’t feel her soft warmth through his armor, but her nearness felt comforting regardless. He kissed her gently, threading his fingers through the hair that she wore in loose braids.

She looked so different now than she had the first time he’d met her two years earlier; her elegant wardrobe replaced with sturdy, practical clothing meant to withstand rough field work and the occasional blaster fight. But underneath, she still smelled like tea and honey and home. She was still the same—still his Maree.

“If you’re finished sucking the lips off her face, can we get going?” Reveth teased. “Droids aren’t gonna find themselves.”

Despite Kix’s misgivings, the trek to the derelict base was uneventful. Squeaky stayed with the shuttle in case they needed a quick extraction, while Ithano, Reveth, and Maree hacked their way through the underbrush along with Kix. It was slow going, and the swamp was creepy as hell, but eventually they made it to the plastcrete and durasteel structure.

There was no power to the base, so they cut their way through the sealed exterior blast doors. Once inside, the group fell silent as they made their way through the dusty, cobwebbed hallways. The base was pitch black inside, illuminated only by their own torches, and once again, Kix felt the simmering anxiety in his gut begin to roil.

“Something’s been living in here,” Reveth muttered, training the beam of her flashlight on a tangle of debris that was unmistakably a nest for something… large.

Kix didn’t respond, but he reached out and pulled Maree closer to himself, then drew one of his DC-17s. Ithano brought up the rear, his blaster rifle ready.

“Control center should be just ahead,” Maree whispered. “Reveth might be able to restore power from there.”

“We’ll be karked if she can’t,” Kix replied quietly.

“Happy thoughts, Kix,” Maree murmured.

Right. Happy thoughts. Spiced biscuits. Unlimited bacta. Maree’s tits. More credits than I’ve ever seen in my life. The Scorpion. Weapons caches. Maree’s thighs. Maree’s thighs on my shoulders. Maree’s thighs framing my face while she rides—uh, weapons caches.

“Control center,” Reveth called under her breath as she reached a sealed doorway.

They pried it open enough to squeeze through. Kix went first, sweeping his light across the room as he scanned for threats. Reveth followed, then Maree and Ithano. Reveth headed straight for the control console and plugged in her small power unit and began to fiddle with the controls.

“Happy thoughts,” Kix mumbled, returning to the doorway to keep watch over the pitch-dark corridor.

Within a few moments, Reveth let out a quiet, triumphant huff as the control console flickered to life, dimly illuminating the room. She went to work immediately, interfacing her datapad with the ancient console.

“Damn. Main power cells are depleted,” she said. “I’ll try to at least get emergency lighting turned on.”

“Why would the power be depleted if the base has been abandoned for decades?” Maree asked. “The Techno Union had extraordinarily advanced power cells that were capable of storing energy far longer.”

“Unless something used it,” Reveth said.

Kix swiveled his head to stare at the Twi’lek.

“Like what?” he bit out.

She shrugged. “Dunno. But we might find out as soon as I get the data decrypted.”

A distant, deep hum sounded, and red light flickered on throughout the base.

“Nicely done,” Maree told Reveth.

“Let’s get the data and get the kriff out of here,” Kix growled, hating every minute of their time in the farking spooky base.

“Working on it,” Reveth snapped. “Think you can do it faster?”

Ithano glanced between Kix and Reveth, then moved to join Kix at the doorway, blaster rifle raised. “What is it?”

“Not sure,” Kix replied quietly. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

Ever reticent, Ithano merely nodded and took up position across from him. Kix nodded in silent gratitude that the pirate captain didn’t question his instincts. Then again, the Crimson Corsair hadn’t survived this long by ignoring his gut.

Kix’s eyes darted to Maree again. She leaned over the console, scrolling rapidly through the data files, searching for any hint of the information they sought. He turned back toward the hallway, his eyes scanning it watchfully.

“No kriffin’ way,” Maree gasped.

“What?” Kix and Reveth demanded in unison.

“You just lost a bet, my love,” Maree told Kix.

“Wait, really?” Reveth asked. “It’s real?”

“‘Project Ophio,’” Maree read, her voice low and hurried. “Principal investigator Vamb Tebrem. Project number T327H1138X99. Primary focus of study is to develop experimental NM-K reconstitutors with the purpose of enhancing the durability and combat acumen of extant B-1 series assets…” Her voice trailed off as she leaned closer to the console, flicking through the data hurriedly. “Project director reported a 62% success rate in the initial efficacy trial; however the experimental reconstitutors were prohibitively expensive to manufacture, and the unpredictability observed in field tests was not adequately resolved—what field tests?”

“You catch any of that?” Reveth asked Kix.

He shrugged. Maree’s voice had dropped to an inaudible murmur as she scrolled through the data, then opened another data file. A quiet chime sounded from the console, drawing Reveth’s attention.

A glowing hologram appeared over the console: wave after wave of battle droids locked in combat a group of clone commandos who should have been able to easily defeat the B-1s. But the droids just kept going. Nothing could stop their advance as they overwhelmed the commandos’ positions and tore them to pieces. Kix swallowed hard, hearing the screams of the dying commandos, unable to take his eyes off the hologram. Maree slapped a button on the console and the sound paused abruptly as the holo froze.

“Holy kark,” she breathed.

“What?” Reveth asked. “Is that not normal?”

“No,” Kix said grimly. “We need to get out of here.”

“Uh, about that…” Reveth said.

Ithano swiveled his head toward the Twi’lek. “What?”

“Opening that holofile triggered an alert in the system,” Reveth said. “Hopefully it’s nothing?”

“Time to go,” Kix growled.

“Yeah,” Maree said, her voice shaky. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“At least let me download the records,” Reveth argued, jamming a data spike into the console.

They all froze as a distant but unmistakable crash echoed through the base, followed by a rhythmic thumping.

“What is that?” Maree whispered.

“Clankers,” Kix said grimly, drawing his second blaster. “Seal the blast doors.”

“We’ll be trapped in here!” Reveth objected.

Maree stared at Kix. “Can’t we make it out before—”

A light flashed, and her body jerked as a blaster bolt smashed into her. She went down hard, and Kix barely had time to register what was happening before a firestorm of blaster bolts exploded into the room. He whirled back to the entrance and returned fire at the wave of battle droids that was advancing at high speed toward his position. Ithano was firing as fast as he could, but the droids weren’t dropping.

“Get those kriffing doors sealed!” Ithano bellowed.

Reveth had ducked down behind the console for cover as Maree scrambled to join her out of the line of fire. Reveth frantically worked the controls from her position on the floor, but she wasn’t fast enough. A single droid made it through before the doors slammed shut. The clanking and pounding of the army of droids battering against the blast doors was deafening. The lone battle droid charged across the command center.

“Kill it!” Kix shouted. “Fuckin’ kill it!”

Reveth, Ithano, and Kix unleashed a torrent of blaster bolts, but the karking thing wouldn’t go down, even as its components began to fail and fly off its body. It was headed for the console. It was headed toward Maree. Desperately, Kix launched himself at its mangled, skeletal form, tackling it as he locked his arms around and tore its head off with a sickening screech of twisting metal.

But the fucking thing kept moving, shambling toward the console. Kix growled and yanked out his vibroblade, slashing through the droid’s joints until nothing remained but a pile of scrap, and then he sprinted toward Maree, launching himself over the control console.

“Maree!” Kix yelled hoarsely.

Her face was sweaty and contorted with pain as she clutched her hand around her upper arm, but she gave him a tight smile. “I’m all right.”

The blaster hole in her jacket sleeve was still smoking, and Kix felt sick as he saw blood covering her hand, oozing from a wound that should have been cauterized by the plasma bolt.

“Let me see,” he ordered.

She moved her hand, and he cut the sleeve away quickly, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Oh, fuck, it’s bad. It’s bad, and I don’t have my kit.

“We have to get out of here,” Reveth rasped.

Kix dug frantically through his pouches, finding only a few small bacta patches and a vial of spray bandage. He didn’t have a choice. It would have to do, at least until they could make it back to the Stinger.

He shoved the jacket sleeve and vibroblade toward Reveth. “Cut that into strips. Wide ones.”

He drenched the blaster wound with spray bandage, then grabbed the first strip Reveth cut from the jacket sleeve and quickly tied it around Maree’s arm near her shoulder. “Do you have a stylus on you?”

“Always,” Maree said, her voice tense with pain. She pulled the stylus out of her pocket and handed it to him, carefully avoiding looking at the charred, bloody wound. “Why is it bleeding so much?”

Kix tied the ends of the cloth strip around the stylus and twisted to tighten the makeshift tourniquet, securing it as he replied in an artificially calm tone. “Sometimes it happens. Move just wrong—the cauterized scab opens—blood.”

He ripped open the bacta patches and arranged them carefully over the injury, covering it as well as he could before wrapping the rest of the fabric strips around them to secure them in place. Finally, he looked up into her eyes, inadvertently smearing her own blood on her cheek as he cupped her face.

“I’m not losing you today.” His words were firm, but tremor in his hands was undeniable, and his pulse thundered in his ears.

She smiled at him through dry, ashen lips, and he kissed her forehead, then helped her carefully to her feet. Reveth had pulled up a schematic of the base, and Ithano joined them at the console, pausing to squeeze Kix’s shoulder briefly.

“We don’t die so easily,” the captain said in his deep, rasping voice.

“Not today, anyway,” Reveth cut in. “I found an escape route.”

“Please tell me it’s not the ventilation shaft,” Maree said unsteadily.

“It’s always the ventilation shaft,” Reveth replied.

Maree’s shoulder screamed with agony as she crawled through the ventilation shaft. She gritted her teeth to hold back the whimper of pain that hovered at the base of her throat. The ventilation shaft was filthy and cramped, and their progress was torturously slow as they navigated as silently as possible to their destination. The conduit wouldn’t take them all the way out of the base, so they would have to make a run for the main entrance when they got close. The only way they stood a chance of escaping was to not draw the attention of the battle droids.

She followed Kix through the labyrinthine ductwork, crawling laboriously on her knees and one hand. Her injured arm had burned like fire when Kix first applied the tourniquet, but now her arm was completely numb—and equally useless. At last, they found the access hatch to the main corridor. Kix dropped down first, and then Maree realized exactly how difficult this was going to be with only one functional arm.

“Just drop,” he whispered. “I’ll catch you.”

She took a deep breath and slid out of the maintenance hatch, feet first. Panic flashed in her mind briefly as she plummeted through the air, but Kix was true to his word, catching her before she could hit the ground. He set her down quickly and checked to make sure her bandage was still in place as first Reveth and then Ithano dropped down into the corridor.

They sprinted for the exit. Maree’s lungs burned and her vision blurred around the edges as she gasped for breath. Kix looked back at her sharply and reached for her hand, dragging her along behind him. By some miracle, the droids hadn’t detected them yet, and she could see the main entrance of the base. She forced herself to keep running, even as she stumbled and nearly went down, kept upright only by Kix’s strong grasp.

He tugged her arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist to support her, but he didn’t slow his pace. “We have to keep going, love. We can’t stop now.”

“I know,” she wheezed. “So close…”

She could hear the clanking of droids behind them, and she pushed herself as hard as she ever had in her life to keep running. They cleared the entrance, and Reveth tossed a few magnetized thermal detonators onto the ceiling of the base.

Keep running, don’t stop, keep going.

The explosion knocked them off their feet, but the rubble of the collapsed ceiling blocked the main entrance. It wouldn’t hold back the droids for long, but it bought them time—so long as they kept moving. Kix was up first, pulling Maree with him as Reveth and Ithano scrambled to their feet.

They ran for the trees as Reveth commed Squeaky. “We need a pickup, now!”

“He can’t get to us in the jungle!” Kix said. “We have to find a clearing where the shuttle can land.”

They dodged through the trees, trying to avoid the worst of the swampy ground, but the dense underbrush slowed their progress and steered them on a circuitous route. Out of the corner of her eye, Maree saw movement in the earth. The ground shifted and began to swell.

“What the kriff is that?” she demanded.

“Keep running, don’t look back,” Kix urged.

“No, what is that?” she repeated.

She saw a flash of pale, bonelike metal alloy, and then a battle droid erupted from the earth.

“Fuck!” she screamed.

All around them, the skeletal forms of B1.5 droids began to emerge from the swampy ground, punching their way to the surface and dragging themselves up from the mud. Kix released Maree and drew both of his blasters, opening fire without hesitation. Maree, Reveth, and Ithano followed suit, for all the good it did them. The droids simply wouldn’t go down; even if they took so many hits that they started to fall apart, they still somehow shambled on in a grotesque parody of their normal precise movement.

They had no choice but to keep running and hope that they could at least slow some of the droids down. She could hear the roar of the shuttle overhead, but the vegetation was too dense for Squeaky to pick them up. The Gamorrean’s indistinct, frantic squealing sounded from Reveth’s comlink.

“He said there’s a clearing about a klick southwest!” Reveth yelled.

It might as well be on the other side of the planet, Maree thought hopelessly. There were simply too many droids; they were advancing relentlessly, and the terrain was too hostile to cross it with any speed. Holy shit, we’re all going to die here.

Her mind darted to the holorecord of the field test—a kriffing gruesome euphemism for such carnage. It had been a complete massacre. The terrified screams of the commandos as the droids tore them to pieces; the spray of blood and viscera: the images were branded irrevocably in her memory. It was a horrific way to die, and they were about to find out firsthand.

Panic clawed at her, closing her throat and making her shots go wild. Her legs felt sluggish, and her feet became unsteady, but Kix never let her fall, even as he fired ceaselessly at the pursuing droids.

“We’re almost there,” he grunted. “Keep running, sweetheart, you can do it.”

“Kix, go,” Ithano ordered. “Get her to the Stinger.”

“No!” Maree exclaimed. “We’re not leaving you!”

Kix ignored her protests, bending over and tossing her over his shoulder as he ran. His plastoid armor cut into her thighs and belly, and she squirmed to try to get away.

“Put me down! Go back!”

Kix ignored her and raced for the clearing where the shuttle hovered just above the ground, ready to take off as soon as the crew were safely aboard. He dropped Maree in the copilot seat and turned to Squeaky.

“Don’t let her follow me.”

He sprinted to the back of the shuttle and jumped out, making for the treeline.

“Kix!” she screamed, lurching out of her seat.

Squeaky didn’t hesitate. He thrust her back into the chair with a stern grunt, then secured the safety harness to make sure she didn’t try to run again. She could hear blaster fire and shouting outside the ship, and she tugged desperately at the harness. Squeaky grunted again to order her to take control of the ship, and he lumbered toward the rear hatch, blaster ready.

Her heart hammered as she took the controls. Please, please, please. The distraught prayer echoed in her mind, silently beseeching the Force. I can’t lose him. Not like this. She felt utterly helpless as the deafening roar of Squeaky’s blaster fire pounded through the ship. Mercifully, she soon heard the pounding of boots on durasteel, and then Ithano launched into the pilot’s seat and punched the controls, hurtling the shuttle away from the planet.

“Kix?” she asked frantically.

“I’m here,” he said, dropping to his knees next to Maree’s chair and wrapping his arms around her. “I’m here.”

“I’m here, too, thanks for askin’,” Reveth said as she flopped into her seat.

Kix stood and quickly released the safety harness, tugging Maree out of the chair and burying his face against her neck.

“Holy kark, I can’t believe we all made it out,” Reveth said. “I was sure Maree was toast.”

Maree laughed, and Kix glared at the Twi’lek. “Not kriffin’ funny.”

“It’s kinda funny,” Reveth insisted.

Kix shook his head and drew Maree out of the cockpit and back to the tiny med bay at the rear of the shuttle. “Med bay” was putting it generously; it was really just a bunk and a large emergency medkit, but it had everything he needed to treat her shoulder. He administered a stim shot, cleaned and redressed her wound, and removed the tourniquet. He worked efficiently, and she didn’t see any of the distress that had clouded his eyes back at the base—of course, they weren’t fending off a horde of unkillable zombie droids this time, either.

“What’s the verdict, doctor?” she asked with a tiny smile.

He stroked his fingers over her forearm gently. “You’ll live. Gonna have a kickass scar, too.”

“Will you kiss it better?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

He smiled wryly as he leaned in and pressed his lips softly against hers. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“I’ll do my best. At least I’m finally going to have an exciting story to tell Baba and Eema.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, kriff, your mothers are going to kill me!”

The Stinger docked with the Meson Martinet first, and Squeaky, Reveth, and Ithano disembarked, then Kix piloted the shuttle to his own ship, the Scorpion. Brenko and Brosna were waiting next to the airlock when Kix and Maree emerged from the shuttle.

“Well, did you find the B1.5s?” Brosna asked.

“Yeah,” Kix replied grimly.

“Ha!” Brosna laughed triumphantly. “Pay up, Captain!”

“You’re still acting captain,” Kix retorted. “Now get your ass back up to the bridge until I relieve you.”

“Wait, you’re not taking command right now?” Brosna asked.

“Nope,” Kix replied, dragging Maree to their quarters.

The door hissed shut behind them, and Kix slapped the control panel to lock it. He was on Maree instantly, devouring her in a searing kiss as he unzipped and pulled off her jacket, carefully avoiding the large bandage on her shoulder. Once he had her top removed, he dropped his mouth to her throat and kissed a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down her body as he knelt in front of her.

His hands roved over her urgently, clutching her body close to him. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he tugged down her trousers, and then he plunged his tongue into her ravenously. Her body jerked, and she cried out, losing her balance. He caught her with ease, then pulled her toward the bed.

“Kix,” she panted. “Don’t you at least want to get naked?”

“I can’t wait,” he groaned. “Sit on my face.”

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped.

“I’m planning to,” he said, lying on his back. “On my face. Now.”

She knelt, hovering over his mouth, staring down into his eyes. He gazed back up at her, sliding his hands up her waist to cup her breasts, before dropping them to her thighs and yanking her body downward.

“Kriff!” she exclaimed as his tongue slid deeply into her cunt, then his lips closed around her clit.

He held her in place as he feasted on her, his groans vibrating against her sensitive flesh. The sensation was overwhelming. She writhed, nearly toppling over, then leaned back to brace her hands on his ribcage. He ate her like he was starving, like she was the last thing he would ever taste, and he fully intended to savor every drop.

“Kix—fuck—gods—” she moaned, her hips finding a subtle rhythm even as his strong hands gripped her, preventing her from moving more than a few centimeters.

He murmured quietly against her in between the kisses and licks and nibbles—soft, nearly inaudible whispers of fear and adoration and lust. “... taste so fucking good… love you so much… thought I was going to lose you… never letting go… so kriffin’ scared… want you so bad…”

He released her thigh and reached his hand around to massage her clit. All the muscles in her core began to tense as pleasure spooled tightly in her body, but her orgasm remained tantalizingly just out of reach. She leaned back, groping blindly for his cock. She fumbled with his belt and eventually just slid her hand beneath the waistband until she wrapped her fingers around his rigid shaft.

He grunted at the contact, his hips thrusting up off the mattress. His hand strayed away from her clit to press his palm flat against her lower belly, and pressure was exactly what she needed. She convulsed with a sob, and he redoubled his efforts, tongue-fucking her through her orgasm. Distantly, she felt the thrusting of his cock against her hand, and then a rush of hot, sticky cum on her fingers.

She crumpled to the bed, and he pulled her tightly against him, kissing the backs of her thighs as she slowly came back to herself. After a few moments, he shifted, curling up behind her, tucking his thighs behind her legs as he drew her body close to his and buried his face in her hair.

“I love you,” she murmured.

He kissed the side of her neck, just behind her ear, dragging his tongue slowly across her skin as he slid his hand up to play with her breast. “Love you. Never scare me like that again.”

She laughed quietly. “Aye, aye, Cap’n. What’s gotten into you, anyway? You were acting protective before we even left the Martinet.”

He lay silently for a moment, breathing in the scent of her hair, before he replied. “You’re late.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You’re… your cycle, it’s like clockwork. And—you’re late,” he said hoarsely.

She swallowed. “Oh.”

The original comic panel that inspired this story! This was from Star Wars Adventures Ashcan. Alas, this comic was never published, so I am once again filling in the gaps in canon.

ADDITIONAL CONTENT WARNING: mention of possible pregnancy.

#clone medic kix #post stasis kix #pirate kix #meson martinet #sidon ithano #reveth #oc: maree finnall #star wars #clone wars #star wars fanfiction #clone wars fanfic #martyrs and kings #dystopicjumpsuit writes #Spotify

42 notes · View notes

lord-westley · 1 year

Text

Shattered Hearts

Pairings: Kili x Reader, Ori x Reader, Dwalin x Reader, Nori x Reader, Fili x Reader

Warnings: Angst, suffering, heartbreak, depression, blood(dwalin), (drinking, death,(Nori)) unedited and crappy lmao

A/N: I can barely bring myself to write these days. But I stumbled upon old screenshots from my Tolkien discord server. Been crying none stop from missing these memories so uh... here you go @erosofthepen @midearthwritings @messiambrandybuck @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse and ofc Hart who has since left tumblr... love you guys

It was sharp and painful; like a dagger straight through his Heart. Days felt dragged on, as if the sun was mocking him- forcing him to remember how you once shined as bright as the sun.

Despite the suns heat on his skin, Kili's shattered heart felt as ice cold as ever. Like a stormy, winter night seeping through the cracks, threatening to cave in his sanity.

Every day was the same; wake up with your side empty, eating breakfast by himself, training by himself.

Kili felt old and slow. His head has been so foggy these last two years without you. Mother is scared, Uncle is worried and Fili... hasnt been seen in weeks.

He can't go back. He refuses to enter Erebor again... how could he? There's nothing left of his heart, so what's the point?

Fili lost everything that day. There was nothing he could have done except watch. Watch you writhe in pain, crying and begging for it to stop.

All he could do was hold you tight, his own tears painting his cheeks as you slowly and painfully passed.

How did it end up like this? Everything was perfect. Erebor was taken back, his family was back together, and the love of his life was by his side. The constant laughter in the halls were gone, nothing left but silence and whispers about the dwarf prince.

No, he can't go back... he'll continue down this gravel path, planting his shattered heart within the forests you loved so much.

Blood. Everyday he comes home from the wilds, covered in new injuries and blood. Each time, carrying a new baby animal.

He hopes that, if he saved them- perhaps he could save you. Perhaps the Valar would stop the punishment if he fixed his past wrongs.

A punishment. That's how he views it. They took you away from him because of his rough past. You're alive. You have to be alive. And he'll do whatever it takes to bring you back home.

His heart is shattered, but by mahal, he'll do what it takes to bring you back even if it means laying down his life.

He's gone...

When the love of his life was ripped away from him, he took to drinking. Hoping that perhaps, If he disappeared, he'd see you again.

It didn't take long...

A week, a week of drinking everyday, multiple ales in one sitting. A week is all it took for his body to give up.

He was unrecognizable...

His hair unkempt and tangled, beads holding on for dear life has his hair thinned from health issues. Clothes stained with ale and spit, clinging to his skin as he sweated.

There was no hope...

No hope for him, no hope for you. There was nothing left for him. He was alone. Alone with his shattered heart till his last breath.

The day you disappeared, was the day you took his entire being with you.

He didn't cry. He didn't yell and throw things. He... did nothing but stare.

There was nothing left of him. A mere shell of a once sweet dwarf.

Ori couldn't bring himself to eat, sleep or anything to keep him alive. He never moved from his armchair except for a twitch. A twitch as though he was listening to an angelic voice.

But there were no voices...

Just him... alone with a shattered heart, and voices in his head.

#Westley Writes #tolkien #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr #lotr x reader #lord of the rings x reader #the hobbit x reader #kili #kili x reader #fili #fili x reader #dwalin #dwalin x reader #ori #ori x reader #nori #nori x reader

145 notes · View notes

i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

Text

THAUC 2022 - Masterlist

Song as old as rhyme

A collaboration with @dimdiamond (who is truly amazing)

🎨 Artwork link (Check it OUT!!!)

Words: 11'075

Pairing: Ori x OFC, Thorin x Bilbo, Ori & Fíli

Warnings: Aroace!Character, Trans!Character, internalised homophobia, internalised transphobia

Summary: When the elusive author Ori is invited to Baggins Bookshop for a reading, he unwittingly topples both himself, his best friend, and his best friend's stern uncle into an unexpected adventure of self-discovery. A story about first and second chances, the importance of friendship, and the value of courage. (with cameos of our beloved friends and mods)

Midnight ride

A collaboration with @freshvanillapng (who has been a delight to work with)

🎨 Artwork link (please give this amazing artist some love!!!)

Words: 3'990

Pairing: Fíli x OFC (Thorin x Bilbo)

Warnings: Mature

Summary: The Company arrives in Rivendell; Fíli makes an unexpectedly delightful acquaintance, much to the discontentment of all the authority figures present.

It was a pleasure and an honour!

@fellowshipofthefics thank you for this opportunity!!!

@dimdiamond and @freshvanillapng, I am humbled and delighted by your immense dedication, creativity, and talent. The hard work you've put into this art leaves me speechless and I feel truly honoured to have been working with such amazing artists!

As ever, your humble servant and devoted friend,

lots of love,

IDNMT

#fotfics #fellowship of the fics #THAUC #An unexpected collaboration #THAUC22 #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #Ori #Fíli #Thorin #Bilbo #Bagginshield #Thilbo #trans!Ori #Aro!Fíli #lgbtq+#LGBTQ Tolkien stories

22 notes · View notes

middleearthpixie · 2 years

Text

After the Fire ~ Chapter Two

Title: After the Fire -

A/N - A huge thank you to @bitter-sweet-farmgirl for answering the medical questions I've pestered her with thus far. I apologize in advance for the sure to be many more coming your way...

Fandom: The Hobbit - Post BOTFA AU Where Everybody Lives

Summary: Following the Battle of the Five Armies, a grievously wounded Thorin is brought back to the kingdom of Erebor, which is still mostly in ruins. Although he’s survived the wounds he received at the end of Azog’s blade, his recovery is far from complete. Grief, regret, anger, all are making his journey that much more difficult and the physical recovery isn’t quite the most difficult challenge he faces.

Jasna Stoneham is no stranger to loss, as she is a survivor of Smaug’s wrath upon Esgaroth. When she is asked to help the dwarves healers of Erebor, her instinct is to say no, but she needs the job, and so agrees to it. However, no one told her that of all the patients, she would be responsible for the king himself, Thorin Oakenshield.

Unfortunately, the road to recovery isn’t necessary a smooth one, but if there’s one thing Thorin will learn, it’s that Jasna is just as stubborn as he is and for every step back he takes, she is there to push him three steps forward. And Jasna will soon find out that there is a gentle, softer side to the dwarf king, one that very few people have ever seen and one he fights to keep hidden from her as well. But like his recovery, that is also easier said than done.

Jasna gets her first glimpse at the horrors of war and what’s happened to the Durin men…

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x ofc Jasna Stoneham

Characters: Jasna, Óin, Narnerra, Ori, Kíli, Thorin, Iron Hills dwarves

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of wounds sustained in battle, vomiting,

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,603

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @ggfamert @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @quiall321

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

“Jasna?”

She looked up to see a small woman with a mass of blonde curls pulled away from her face hurrying toward her. The woman stopped before her, slightly out of breath. “Are you Jasna Stoneham?”

“I am, yes.”

“Good. Come with me. I am Narnerra and Óin told me he’d brought you on. The wounded are coming in now and it’s a madhouse both in the infirmary and out here. Come with me.”

She didn't wait for Jasna to reply, but turned and hurried off in the direction from whence she came, all the while talking at least a mile a minute. “I need you to assess every body that comes into the Great Hall. I will give you tags—white, wounded but not urgent; blue, wounded needs to be seen quickly; red, emergent and to be seen immediately; black, dead. If their wound is not immediately apparent, ask about it, take as much information as possible if they can speak and you can understand them. If not, tag them to the best of your judgment and start up a chart, then tuck it into the bed between their feet. Red and blue tags come to Óin or me immediately. White tags can wait in the Great Hall. Make certain they are as comfortable as possible. Offer wine and food, but not much as the larders aren’t quite up to snuff as yet. If one comes in with some sort of impalement, do not, under any circumstances, let them remove the object. Is that clear?”

“Aye, it’s clear.” Jasna tried to take it every word even as she glanced around at the crowded Great Hall. “I be-beg your pardon, b-b-b-but, I’ve had only a f-f-f-few months of training.”

“I know. But you can certainly tell if a wound is life threatening, can you not?” Narnerra glanced over her shoulder, pausing at a desk messy with papers, quills, and ink pots and various other sundries. “Speak up if you cannot and I will—”

“No,” Jasna broke in hastily, “I can tell.”

“Good. Tags are here,” Narnerra swept up the stack of tags, each one with a short loop attached to one end. “The loop goes over the biggest toe on the left foot.”

“And what should I do with the black tags?”

“Cover their face with a sheet or any cloth or fabric you might find on their person and I will send a few dwarves to bring them to the morgue when I can spare the manpower.” Narnerra pressed the tags at her, then sighed, drawing the back of her wrist across her shining forehead before calling out, “Ori!”

“Aye?” A young-looking dwarf with reddish-brown hair and ink stains on his fingers joined them. “Are you ready, Narnerra?”

“Ori,” Narnerra gestured to Jasna, “this is Miss Stoneham. Jasna, this is Ori. He will scribe the notes to be tucked in with each patient. Ori, be patient with her, she is new at this.”

“Oh, of course,” Ori replied and when Jasna met his dark eyes, he offered up a warm smile despite looking utterly exhausted. “You’ll be fine, Miss Stoneham.”

“I certainly hope so.”

A low sigh bubbled to Narnerra’s lips and she said, “I am glad you’re here, Miss Stoneham. Call either me or Óin if you run into any trouble.”

With that, she bustled off and Jasna stood there for a moment, surveying the sea of bodies flooding into the Great Hall from the battlefield just beyond the front gates. She’d never seen so many dwarves in one place, and they weren’t the only ones brought in, either. Several elves had come in, as well as Men, and all were a mix of the walking wounded, the seriously wounded, and some were very obviously to be black tagged. Voices rose—talking, moaning, crying in pain—to create a buzzing din that echoed off the stone walls all around her.

“You’re accomplishing nothing, standing here like a fool,” she admonished herself, glancing down at the tags in her hand. “Get to work.”

“I beg your pardon, but I am waiting for you.”

“Oh,” Jasna jumped, but managed to smile, “I was t-talking t-t-t-to myself. S-s-s-sorry. Shall we?”

He offered up a queer look, but nodded and as she pushed herself into motion, he followed. At the nearest cot, she stopped and peered down. Upon it, lay a red-haired dwarf with angry blue eyes. “‘Bout time, lassie. Are ye waitin’ fer me ta kick it?”

“Uh… n-no. Of-of course not.” She managed a slight smile. “So, where are y-you in-in-injured?”

“My ankle twisted oddly, is all.” The dwarf glowered at her. “Can ye fix it and get me back out there?”

“I think y-y-you should plan to wait h-h-h-here a b-bit longer.”

“The battle is over, isn’t it?” Ori asked, not looking up from the notes he scribbled in his book.

“Aye, it is, but there are still ugly orcs out there needin’ ta be finished off. And I’d like to be there insteada here, if it’s all the same ta ye?”

She shook her head as she moved to the foot of his cot and tossed back the rough blanket covering him. His left leg was bent at an unnatural angle at the ankle, the entire side of his foot various shades of blue, green, and yellow and from just above his ankle to his toes, his foot looked like it was at least three times the size it was supposed to be. Looking up, she met his gaze and shook her head. “Um… y-y-your ankle is more than a little turned, I’m afraid.”

“Jus’ pop it back and let me get out there!”

“Sorry. I c-c-cannot d-d-do that.” She eased a white tag over the big toe of his uninjured foot, then flipped the blanket back. “D-did you g-g-get that, Mr. Ori?”

“I did, and there is no mister.” He smiled, tugging the sheet of parchment from his book to slip between the dwarf’s feet. “Just Ori is fine.”

“No mister. Right.” She bobbed her head, and moved on to the next bed. And then onto the next. She quickly fell into a rhythm, assessing wounds—pride surging through her when she held back a gag at a particularly nasty arrow wound—tagging combatants as they arrived. She soon forgot about being nervous, there simply wasn't time to worry about it. There were far too many bodies and far too few of her and Ori, so she couldn’t dwell. She could only review, assess, and move on.

“Jasna!” Óin’s voice rang out over the din, and she looked up to see him in the far corner, waving one arm like a madman. “Come! I need your help!”

Ori tucked his pen behind his ear. “I think we tagged everyone. Go. I’ll see if any of them need water or food.”

“Thank you!” Jasna dashed about the cots as quickly and nimbly as she could, and when she reached Óin, her, “What can I do for you?” died on her lips.

“Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli,” he replied, pointing from one prone, still figure to the next. “They are red tags and I need you to assist Narnerra with Kíli.” He pointed to the young dwarf at far end of the row, whose shirt and sheet were both soaked in blood. “I’ll call you if I need you back.”

She swallowed hard, her stomach roiling at the side of the bloodied dwarf, who seemed too pale to still live. But there was no time to dwell as Narnerra waved her over and said, “Give me your hands, Jasna. I need you to hold this—”

As she said this, she grabbed Jasna’s hand and thrust it inside the gaping wound in the dwarf’s lower chest. She fought off a shudder at the sticky warmth of blood pulsing over her fingers with each heartbeat. “Wh-wh-wh-what am I holding?”

“Feel for the leak. Put your finger on it whilst I get the needle and thread ready.” As she spoke, Narnerra looked down at the needle and thread in question. “When I tell you, move slightly to your left, just enough to allow me to work, but maintain a gentle pressure. Can you do that?”

Her belly roiled harder now, a sour, brackish taste flooded her mouth, one that Jasna swallowed hard against even as she nodded. “I can.”

“Good.”

Jasna swallowed hard again as Narnerra moved in alongside her hand to carefully begin stitching the internal wounds. There was just enough space for them to coexist and as she finished sewing a section, Narnerra whispered, “Now!” and Jasna moved just barely.

The dwarf gave no indication that he knew what was going on, didn’t move aside from his shallow breaths, and when Narnerra finally said, “Take your hand out,” Jasna didn't so much as flinch as she withdrew her bloodied hand. A dark-haired dwarf pressed a length of towel into her clean hand and she wiped off the bloodied one as Óin gestured for her again.

“Narnerra, Óin—”

Narnerra nodded. “Go. And thank you.” She looked at the dwarf who’d given Jasna the towel and said, “Bofur, if you and Glóin would move Kíli over toward the windows. But take care. He is in a fragile state.”

“Aye, Narnerra.”

He and a red-haired dwarf grasped the cot and carefully moved it and only then did Kíli stir. Jasna had just joined Óin at the bed of a large dwarf with a tangle of long, almost-black curls when Kíli cried out. She started to turn, only to have Óin grab her upper arm.

“No, lassie. Concentrate on this patient,” he said, gesturing to the dwarf lying before them. “Narnerra has Kíli in hand. We need to work here.”

Jasna nodded, turning back to the wounded dwarf. The front of his dark gray, rough-hewn henley was saturated with blood. His face was a mask of blood and sweat, with a long, slightly jagged slash that ran from the his hairline on the upper right side of his face, down across his forehead, where it disappeared into the inner portion of his right eyebrow.

She reached for a rag to mop up some of the blood from his face when Óin stopped her with a, “That’ll wait, lassie. I need ye to help me here.”

As he spoke, Óin took a large pair of scissors to cut away the henley and as the fabric parted, Jasna felt the blood drain from her face. His wounds, both stuffed with wads of cloth by someone in a desperate, if futile, attempt at stanching the flow of his blood, were the worst she’d seen come into the infirmary thus far. She’d thought Kíli’s wound was terrible, but these absolutely surpassed it. Both slices were relatively clean, but they were far larger than the one Kíli bore. The topmost wound was in his chest and was the widest, while the smaller one was maybe two or three inches below the upper one.

Óin gently removed the cloth and probed at the larger wound. The wounded dwarf stiffened again the invasion, letting out a hoarse cry that reverberated with a pain so raw and primal, Jasna felt it herself. Her eyes teared up even as her gut threatened to revolt on her. She’d never seen anything like this, had never heard such anguish, and as that brackish taste flooded her mouth again, icy horror filled the rest of her body.

I’m going to throw up.

“Ex-excuse me,” she managed to grit, backing away from the cot and bolting for the door that led—she hoped—to the overgrown courtyard. She flung herself into it and mercifully, it swung wide. It banged hard against the wall, and she managed to make it just beyond the threshold before she felt to her knees into the snow and her stomach emptied itself into the wild tangle of underbrush that survived despite the cold winter conditions.

Her entire body convulse, her muscles twisting and knotting, trembling as she had nothing more to bring up, and so finally went calm, sinking into the weeds that refused to yield to the snow on the ground. Rocks bit into her knees, into her backside as she shifted onto it, but she only barely felt it as she swallowed hard and tried to will her nose to stop running.

“Jasna?” Narnerra’s voice was soft as she knelt beside her.

“I’m so so-so-so-sorry,” Jasna choked, her stomach clenching violently once more. “I’ve n-n-never s-s-s-seen anything l-l-l-like th-that.”

“It’s all right, dear,” Narnerra murmured, her hand coming to lay gently against Jasna’s back. “It happens.”

“I’ve only h-h-h-had th-th-three months’ tr-tr-tra—” Her voice broke, her eyes over flowed, and she buried her face in her hands.

“I know you have. And it’s all right. Sometimes, you’ll get sick. It happens.” Narnerra patted her gently on the back. “Stay out here a few more minutes, let your head clear, but then we need you inside.”

“Is h-h-h-he going to d-d-d-die?”

“Thorin?” Narnerra shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so, no. But, that being said, I should go back inside before I am proven wrong.”

Jasna glanced toward the infirmary, her stomach clenching at the thought of going in, but also at the thought of Óin’s telling her to not trouble herself to return. “Sh-should I j-j-just go h-h-h-home to D-d-dale?”

Narnerra’s brow furrowed. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m of little u-u-use here.”

“You are still learning, Jasna. And part of that is knowing that you will sometimes get sick. But, what we do in there is so very important, more important than how we feel. So, if you walk back in, you’ll know you are meant to be here.”

“Today is probably as bad as it gets, Jasna. This is what war does to men of all ilk. I only hope we do not have to see it again.” She patted Jasna’s shoulder as she got to her feet and then made her way toward the door, where she paused and added, “But then again, I’ve been doing this many, many years, and I still get sick on occasion. Take a few more minutes and rejoin us. In the infirmary.”

Jasna nodded slowly, sinking back against the building and leaned her head back. If you walk back in, you’ll know you are meant to be here.

Was she meant to be there? Could she stomach those wounds—the sights, the smells, the cries that came with them? Or was she only more of a hindrance than a help?

A chilled breeze stirred, drying the perspiration on her back, her face, lifted her hair where it’d slipped free from its messy knot. The late afternoon sunlight came dappled across the courtyard, the winds whispering softly through naked tree branches that creaked with each gust. Her stomach calmed, her head cleared,

Narnerra’s words reverberated inside her skull until she couldn’t stand listening to them any longer. She knew what she had to do and so with a low sigh, she got to her feet, drew a deep breath, and stepped back into the infirmary.

#Richard Armitage #The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Everybody Lives AU #The Hobbit BOTFA

44 notes · View notes

sorisooyaa · 2 years

Text

Paper Planes

Pairing: Ori x @i-did-not-mean-to

A/N: Yes, I’m supposed to be asleep and resting! But this idea had been floating around my head all day and I could only think Ori with it and ofc, it’s Ori It has to be Angel :D

I had sat outside for the longest time. The heavy weight of the day was still on my shoulders, enough to suffocate me under its growing pressure. Add my own thoughts and doubts its power only multiplied, bringing me closer to spilling the tears I tried so desperately to hold back.

I wanted to scream... cry... shout, but something kept me from doing so and I rocked myself back and forth, trying to control the emotions within that were trying to spiral themselves out of control.

It wasn’t fair how the world worked in twists and turns, to drain out the very essence of the living soul inside one; to crush away the dreams one treasured, trying to put together a life worth living for one.

But unfortunately, there are things in this world that perplexed and angered many... and even killed one, pushing them over the edge because they could no longer take the weight, pressure and hate thrown at them from every corner.

Though one thing can’t exist without the other, some saw it as a blessing, and others saw it as a curse. I guess, it truly depends on the perspective of things that happen. Fo hurt to exist, there must be comfort, like two opposite sides of the coin, or the when day breaks into the night, giving the moon and stars to shine.

It was like that, the light touch of his hand being placed on my shoulder, touching my skin to send warmth through my body and lift away the fog that dared to cloud my mind and heart with darkened thoughts and wishes.

As if his touch is what pulled me out of treacherous waves that tried to drown me day in and day out.

“Ori...” I whispered, as my mind settled and the beating of my heart calmed until I felt only his touch and presence.

“Come here, Angel,” He whispered, reaching for my numb body. He looked for any signs of hesitation or denial from my side, and receiving none, he carefully wrapped his arms around me. He let me rest my head against his chest gently.

I listened to the soft beating of his heart, a peaceful sound that rocked me like a sweet lullaby if I was ever in need of sleep. There was a feeling of warmth and comfort within it; a touch from him and I was home, where I could block away anything and everything that tried to harm me. And I would do the same for him if anyone dared to harm a hair on his head.

The numbness in my arms and body broke; it melted away, and I freely let my arms wrap themselves around him. I pulled myself closer to the warmth he provided, trying to keep myself away from the fog that filled me with dread and darkness.

From my lack of speech, Ori understood there weren’t any words I could formulate right now, I only wanted the feel of him close to me, steadying me against the waves that tried to drown me each time.

And yet still Ori spoke, providing words, ones I wondered if I deserved.

“You’re loved and cared for. Please, do not let any convince you otherwise, Angel,” He almost pleaded with me, his thumb gently stroking my back, while the other hand drew soft circles, “There’s nothing wrong with you, it is the world that is wrong. It doesn’t know how to accept one another. It is flawed from the surface to its core. And the least we can do is shower it with kindness, and hope the receiving end will take it to heart and help another,” He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, before continuing, “We can only do our part, and our part matters! That is why we should not change ourselves to the way the world tries to bend us. We cannot let the flawed world break who we are...”

I think I nodded at times, a part of the agreeing but the other part of me doubting, enough to let my fear and anxiety rise.

“Can I show you something?” Ori suddenly changed his words, smiling down at me. The soft espresso shades in his eyes shone beautifully, and it memorised me every time.

I frowned, but he simply reached over to my bag and took out my notebook.

Opening, the midsection, where words or scribbles of my inked pen had not touched, he smiled at me excited, holding the edging of a page, “Can I?”

With the excitement in his voice, I did not have the heart to deny him. From the light nod of my head, he immediately (and carelessly) ripped a page from my notebook.

I laughed as the stubborn page only cut halfway, leaving an odd-shaped oval in his hands.

He rolled his eyes and casted it aside for now, before ripping out another, carefully this time around, “Ori, what are you doing, my love?”

It was very unlike himself to suddenly rip a page from a notebook, “You will see,” Was all he said, quickly putting those expert hands to work, yes of course there was more than one use for them.

I watched with interest, now eager to know what he was up to as he folded the angles until they were pristine and sharp. He folded the little piece of paper from many sides, asking me to hold it at one point as he made sure everything was folded nearly.

It was only a moment later. I realised, he was crafting a ripped piece of paper into a little paper plane. Once again, checking all the sides and folding them with more might until he was sure they would stay in place, he turned to me, his eyes twinkling beautifully; they put the stars of the night sky to shame, “Ready?” He asked.

I nodded slowly, and he carefully lifted his hands the paper plane held with a soft grip, before he released it into the air. I watched, my eyes following its flight until it fell, no longer under any influence.

“We should to learn to fly like this over hardships and obstacles. And there will always be times where we crash,” He said, gesturing to the paper plane on the ground, then getting up to retrieve it again, “But the most important thing is that we keep trying, keep it going... no matter how many crashes we have, because in the end, you say, I did it, I have overcome it, now I deserve some ice cream!”

I laughed, rolling my eyes as Ori finished. Once he sat by my side again, he reached for my hand, letting us hold it together before we both released it into the breeze, letting it carry on with its journey.

And this whole time, Ori never stopped, always making me floating and souring, letting no fog cloud my mind and heart. He kept me loved and safe...

#ori #ori the dwarf #ori the hobbit #the hobbit #the hobbit au #jrr tolkien #ori x angel #ori x i-did-not-mean-to #ori being the sweetest!#hope you like <3 #thank you for reading!

21 notes · View notes

soficrsonmuses · 25 days

Text

( status ABERTO )

nome: victorie shaffer

idade: 36 anos

zodíaco: escorpião

ocupação: advogada

orientação sexual: bissexual

face claim: meghan ory

↝ plot (f/f, single mom): so who’s gonna give me a cliché single parent x nanny plot... like this single parent who just got out of a messy divorce ‘n they’re a major workaholic who’s struggling to juggle all of their new responsibilities so they hire this super sweet lil nanny to take care of their kids ?? ‘n there’s this obvious chemistry, and the kids love the nanny to bits and pieces, but the parent doesn’t want to risk anything too soon, and just..... awkward but cutesy slow burn.. bonus points for an age gap ?? that’s totally legal ofc

pinterest;

#◞ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 ─── female.#◞ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 ─── open.

0 notes

crazytxgradstudent · 5 years

Text

Thorin/OFC fic update

Well, the beast is continuing to grow. Feel free to tag along if you’d like. One day, I might shock us all and get to the end 😂

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621934/chapters/44157052

6 notes · View notes

legolasbadass · 3 years

Text

Masterlist

👑 Thorin 👑

A Lifetime Apart (Thorin x OC, Pre-Smaug, rated T) — This fic was written for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2021 for the lovely @gwen-ever. [1] [2] [3]

Blame it on the Dress (Thorin x reader, rated E) — [1] [2]

The Castle on the Mountain (Thorin x OC, Gothic AU, rated E) — [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Heart of Gold (Thorin x OC, Pre Quest of Erebor, read the whole fic on AO3, rated E)

In Your Arms (Thorin x reader, rated G)

Just Like the Ones I Used to Know (Thorin, Dís, and Frerin, rated G)

New Pleasure (Thorin x OC Dania, rated E)

The Shadows Which Fire Throws (Thorin, Dís, and Frerin, rated G)

Shelter From the Storm (Thorin x reader, rated E)

Waterfall (Thorin x reader, rated E)

Welcome Home (Thorin x reader, rated E)

💗 Other Characters 💗

Against All Odds (Dís x OFC, rated M, read the whole fic on AO3) — This fic was inspired by the talented @lathalea's wonderful art for the Tolkien Reverse Summer Bang 2022.

Office Hours (Richard Armitage x OC, Professor AU, rated E, read the whole fic on AO3)

Home for Christmas (Richard Armitage x OC, Professor AU, rated E)

Candlelight (Ori x reader, rated T)

All of my works are also available on AO3.

If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, let me know!

#masterlist #the hobbit #lotr #the hobbit fanfic #thorin #thorin fanfic #thorin x reader #thorin x you #thorin x oc #thorin oakenshield x reader #thorin oakenshield x you #thorin oakenshield x oc #the hobbit fanfiction #thorin fanfiction #fanfiction masterlist

286 notes · View notes

cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Note

Just a lil get to know you ask, what kind of video games do you like? Love you, your writing, and your blog btw ❤️

I love a huge variety of games! I mostly play on Playstation, but I do some PC stuff too. Here’s a few of my favorite games / series:

God of War series

I’ve played literally every game and Kratos is my videogame crush

Minecraft

Stardew Valley

Boarderlands series

Kingdom Hearts series

Birth by Sleep and the 2nd game to be specific are my top faves. Though Chain of Memories (the PS remake mostly) is also amazing because of Zexion LOL

Shadow of the Colossus

And The Last Guardian, even though I haven’t played it myself, I just love the game! I probably wouldn’t love it so much if I played it myself though, ‘cause Trico can be a little bitch it seems lol. But he’s so damn cute

The Last of Us

The first game is and will always be a favorite. But so far, I’m not feeling the 2nd game, and I’m incredibly disappointed. Though, I haven’t finished watching it all yet, so we’ll see!

Dead Space series

The third one was shit imo, but the other two are so good, and I’m really hyped to see if they’ll remaster / remake them sometime!

Sims

Because of course LOL

Pokemon games, literally any of them

Soul Silver has always been one of my top favorite, just for the fact that the Pokemon follow you around, and I loved the imagery of me turning around and hugging my 14′ 9″, 1,654 lbs Giratina LOL

I’ve also always had a soft spot for Pokemon Snap

And also Emerald. Not only was it my first gameboy game for Pokemon, but I also got my first shiny VERY early on! It was a Zubat (now Crobat ofc) but he’s very special to me and I transferred him all the way up to my Pokemon X

I actually used to be very VERY dedicated to attempting to fill out the Pokedex in X and having one of each. I think I stopped with around 500-550 Pokemon?? I haven’t looked in a long time. But there was lots of breeding, hunting, evolving, and transferring lol. I even bought another 3DS at the time just so I could make it easier on myself LOL

Amnesia: The Dark Descent

A classic I could play over and over

Resident Evil series

Subnautica

Ori and the Blind Forest

Banjo-Kazooie

Oldie but a HUGE fave!

Killing Floor 2

Dying Light

Silent Hill series

Final Fantasy series

I’ve played all of them, but I really like 12! And 7 of course lol

Okami

I spent an INSANE amount of hours into this game on my PS2! I was so dedicated to finding every damn pearl lol

Skyrim

Okay I’m gonna stop because this will end up being a stupidly long list. I just love videogames, and I play a huge variety of them!

#mod chats #Anonymous

14 notes · View notes

dystopicjumpsuit · 11 months

Text

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 12

Everything is Fine. Really.

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged)

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 2K

A/N: We've officially caught up to AO3, so from here on out, new chapters will post on Sundays. ♥️

Warnings: mild sensuality; mentioned violence; Star Wars swearing

Start here | Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Weeks passed, and Hosnian Prime’s frigid, crystalline mornings gave way at last to the soft, warm breezes that heralded the arrival of spring in Republic City. Maree returned to her normal assignments, and if she was slightly quieter and more reserved than usual, none of her colleagues had the bad manners to mention it.

Kix did not contact her.

She told herself it was to be expected. He was hardly the first hookup who’d ever left in the middle of the night and never commed her again. It wasn’t like they were committed. They weren’t even dating, really. She couldn’t truly fault him for unloading his trauma on her; after all, she’d invited him to do so.

His overwhelming sorrow had confirmed the truth she’d long suspected—he was a clone trooper. She had so many questions about what had happened to him, but all she knew was that he’d somehow survived in stasis. She didn’t even know his CT number. The worst part was that she understood why he had so jealously guarded his identity. Even now, professional curiosity enticed her to contact him, to pepper him with questions about his experience during the Clone Wars, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that to him. He wasn’t just some research subject; he was a living, breathing, hurting, grieving person who deserved respect and dignity and space to process everything he’d lost.

So no, she didn’t blame him. But she did miss him.

Every time she uncovered some small, fascinating detail about a battle that had long since ended, she had to stop herself from reaching for her commlink to send it to him. Every time she glimpsed a tall man with dark, curly hair and a neat beard, her heart beat a little faster until her brain caught up to the reality that it wasn’t him. Every time she lay awake in the darkness, remembering the weight of his body pressed against hers, she wondered if he was thinking about her, too.

To distract herself, she made a determined effort to get out of the office and actually do the things she enjoyed outside of work. She went to her favorite park by the beach and basked in the sun while reading a trashy holo-novel. She took long walks under the blooming citrom trees. She bought fresh flowers for her office desk. She ate a picnic in Senate Square. She did not visit the Hanging Gardens. And when she went home each night, she lay in bed and stared at the ceiling for hours.

A few weeks after Maree returned to Hosnian Prime, Orys Brenko knocked shyly on her open office door, datapad in hand. He looked nervous, and Maree sprang into recruitment mode, introducing him to the interns and leading him on a tour of the archive. He departed the library with shining eyes, a determined set to his chin, and a freshly signed datapad. His visit reminded Maree of why she had joined the Archive in the first place, before the shine had worn off and she realized she’d be spending more time filing reports and managing schedules than actually studying history. She wondered when the passion and excitement that she used to feel for her work had turned into exhaustion and disillusionment.

Dr. Tane stopped by her office one day to celebrate Rik Denau’s official dismissal, and mentioned that Dr. Harik was already angling for the disgraced archivist’s old position. Truthfully, Maree had forgotten all about that unpleasantness. Nevertheless, Tane and Valsi insisted on going out to celebrate the occasion. Maree didn’t want to go out. She wanted to go home and crawl into bed and stare at the ceiling. But the combined forces of Tane and Valsi were irresistible, and ultimately Maree decided that it was easier just to go along with their plans.

It was worth it, in the end, to see Tane growling out a Herglic rage-metal song at a karaoke bar as Valsi watched, slack-jawed. The two ended up going home together at the end of the night, after getting increasingly handsy with each round of cocktails.

“Use protection!” Maree called after them as they stumbled out of their shared taxi. “I don’t want to know what a Pantoran Zabrak looks like.”

Valsi flipped her the avian and went right back to sucking Tane’s face off.

“There’s not enough eye-bleach in the galaxy to unsee that,” Maree grumbled to the droid taxi driver.

When she stumbled into her flat, the light on her commlink was flashing with an unread message indicator. She opened it as she chugged a large glass of water, reading with bleary eyes.

To: Dr. Maree R. Finnall From: Kix Subject: [none] Maree, I’m sorry for the way things ended. I knew it was better if I didn’t drag you into my life. I don’t know how you figured it out, but can’t say I’m surprised. I know you have questions, and I feel like I owe you some answers.

The message continued, detailing how Kix had uncovered a conspiracy against the Jedi, how he had been apprehended and frozen in stasis by the Separatists, and how he had been found and revived the previous year by a pirate crew. Maree’s hand tightened on the glass as she read and reread the message, until she let out an abrupt scream and flung the glass across the kitchen to shatter against the wall.

“God damn it!” she wailed. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

The next morning, she strode into the library with a resolute expression. Let’s find out who you really are.

In between Judiciary assignments, she began to requisition large numbers of data chips related to Clone Wars-era trooper records and combat reports. She cross-referenced hundreds of files, staying in her office late into the evenings, hunting for a single name that simply did not appear. She changed tactics. Using the list Kix had sent her, she searched for recurring groups of troopers. Still, there were thousands of possibilities. For weeks, she analyzed the data with single-minded determination, but the longer she searched, the more frustrated she grew. Without a CT number, it was like hunting for a ghost.

Late one evening, Maree was startled by a chime at her office door. As far as she knew, everyone had gone home for the day, and Teejay would have locked up hours earlier. She checked her security holofeed and was surprised to see Valsi waiting outside the door, tapping an impatient foot. Maree hit the control panel to admit her.

“Valsi, what are you doing here so late?” Maree asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” the Pantoran said.

“Just busy,” Maree said. “How did you know I was still working?”

“Teejay ratted you out,” Valsi said. “You know that droid hates it when your routine gets disrupted.”

Maree muttered something about snitches and ditches, and Valsi sauntered into her office, coming to a dead halt when she witnessed the chaos inside. Stacks of datapads towered precariously on every available surface. Three separate holoprojectors displayed reams of data. There were even pages of actual paper stuck to the walls and connected by strings, covered in handwritten notations.

“Dank farrik, Maree, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“Special research project,” Maree said.

“What kind of project?” Valsi demanded.

“The kind that I’m failing at,” Maree said miserably. “I keep thinking I’m so close, and then it turns out to be a dead end, or the completely wrong thread, and the whole damn thing comes unraveled.”

“Slow down. What’s coming unraveled?” Valsi asked.

“Everything!” Maree exclaimed. “Without his trooper number, I can’t know for sure, and there are thousands—literally thousands, Valsi—of possibilities.”

“Whose trooper number?” Valsi asked, bewildered.

“I—I—just a clone I’m trying to identify,” Maree stammered.

Valsi shook her head. “I haven’t seen you get like this since you were in the throes of your doctoral thesis. What’s the rush?”

Maree’s jaw dropped. She stared at Valsi, her eyes wide.

“My thesis,” she said. “Saleucami. Of course!”

She scrambled across the room to her desk and searched frantically through the holoprojection. Valsi followed at a much slower pace, a bemused expression on her face.

“When was the last time you slept, Maree?”

“Hmm?” Maree asked, not looking away from the report she was scanning. “Oh, it doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does,” Valsi said. When Maree failed to acknowledge her, Valsi shrugged and wandered over to the kitchenette to raid Maree’s supply of biscuits. “Hey, do you think I could get Tane to dress up as Maul and do a little role-play? That man definitely knows how to use his lightsaber.”

Maree didn’t hear the cheeky question. She narrowed her search parameters again and again, until only a few dozen trooper numbers remained. Snatching up a datapad with Kix’s list, she ran one last analysis. A single trooper ID flashed.

CT-6116.

She opened the personnel file. MISSING IN ACTION - PRESUMED DEAD scrolled across the top in red letters. She enlarged the holo of the trooper’s face and spotted a familiar tattoo.

“I found him,” she whispered. “Oh, my gods, Valsi, I found him.”

“Found who?” Valsi mumbled around a mouthful of spiced biscuit, dusting crumbs off her fingers.

Kix had been a miserable bastard since he returned to the Meson Martinet. Reveth had exchanged a meaningful I-told-you-so glance with the ship’s Gabdoran first mate Quiggold when the clone arrived looking like he could single-handedly murder the entire First Order. The crew stayed out of his way, waiting for his mood to blow over. After weeks, it showed no signs of improvement, and even Captain Ithano’s patience was beginning to wear thin—or so Quiggold maintained. None of the rest of the crew could detect any change in the captain’s stoic posture.

When the Martinet went into battle, Kix threw himself into the action with unrestrained bloodlust, tearing through enemies with abandon. At one point, after witnessing the clone rip off a bounty droid’s head with his bare hands, even Ithano gave the tiniest shake of his helmeted head. This was tantamount to a blistering rebuke from the pirate captain—or so Quiggold maintained.

“We gotta do something,” Quiggold declared after Kix had retreated to his quarters late one night. “I knew it was a mistake for him to go chasing after answers, I just knew it. He must have found out something terrible. And now that poor kid has gone and dug up all those bad memories, and what good did it do him?”

“He called me a karking laserbrain when he was patching me up yesterday,” Reeg Brosna complained, shaking his head sadly. “It’s not like I asked to get shot.”

Squeaky grunted his agreement as he joined the group, handing out a fresh round of ale and shoving Reveth’s feet off the table. Unbothered, the Twi’lek put her boots back up immediately.

“I think it’s girl trouble,” she declared.

“And what makes you say that?” Reeg asked, tapping his bottle to hers and taking a long drink.

“Hasn’t wanted a fuck since he got back,” Reveth said, sipping her own ale.

The Arcona choked and spewed his drink across the table, causing Squeaky and Quiggold to rear back with exclamations of disgust and wipe the droplets of ale off their faces. Captain Ithano did not react, except to direct a long look at the Twi’lek mechanic. (This was practically a declaration of love and an offer of marriage—or so Quiggold maintained. Reeg and Squeaky accused him of trying to rig the betting pool.)

“Maybe he’s too sad to screw,” Reeg suggested.

“Because he’s been such a barrel of laughs for the past year?” Reveth asked. “No. It’s girl trouble. And I think I know who’s responsible.”

She set a small projector on the table and turned it on to display a publicity holo she’d found on the NRGL’s Holonet site. The rest of the crew fell silent as they observed a woman in an elegant blue gown standing very close to a familiar tall, bearded man, resting her hand on his arm. The frozen figures in the image were laughing as they gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Aye, that’d do it,” Quiggold observed.

---

Chapter 13

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr

#clone medic kix #sw tcw fanfic #tcw fanfic #tcw kix #dystopicjumpsuit writes #martyrs and kings

21 notes · View notes

fatebreaking-a · 4 years

Text

Tagged by : I am a thief. ( Stolen from @starthieve ) Tagging : steal it from me.

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

( I will not, I will pick all my muses, how dare- I’ll leave everything except this blog + my other Sona blog out, for length’s sake.) long post, so it’s under the cut.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES-ish / NO. ( people who like her like her, and people who don’t... really don’t. )

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated? YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO / MAYBE ?

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO / MAYBE ?

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon? — lol. I take inspiration from canon, let’s put it that way.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — Your local patron saint of lost causes, a heroic entity who has overcome betrayal and judgement to become an existence that can save the world. Also she’s tall and strong and hot and nice, what more could you want? Huh? You want more than being hugged by a 6′4″ lady??? Sona can also be in various countries, and can participate very easily in fluff, angst, and all sorts of other types of threads.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — Lots of angst and drama, a bit of a loner with a distant vibe. Having no etwahl and not playing music kills the interest and ‘usual interactions’ for a lot of people, and being mute & not jumping to telepathy can make threads dry and slow. Being a ‘sexy boob lady’ ( u g h ) also has painted her in a certain light - I’ll never forget that someone said that ‘ofc everyone ships with Sona, she’s the village bicycle.’ I’ve made her exceptionally strong ( almost overpowered ), and that doesn’t jive with people sometimes - shoving in all these themes that I personally like and crafting an interesting story of a divine / demonic seer witch who doesn’t know what to do with herself, is finally ‘too strong’, and finds power distasteful... The themes can be a little depressing and cold, even when she acts nice. And seeing “Even though she feels nothing, she still acts nice” in character can feel... tiring. A mute is not an easy person to write with, and I don’t shy away from trying to give the impression that ‘waiting for Sona to communicate can be tiring’ - because I want my readers and mutuals to feel the kinds of things she goes through everyday. While I try to make the blog accessible, Sona has a speech disability, and that can be tiring.

Also that she doesn’t act like a fancy noble... I don’t know. I feel like the way that I write her is very, very different to the fandom’s impression of her, and that leaves people disillusioned. “This isn’t what I expected or signed up for.” She’s just not that person... And because she doesn’t speak, a lot of prompts are off limits. I’ve also recently reset because I wanted to emphasize that she is patient, grim, and secretive while still being kind. I’ve toned down her tendency for mischief a lot, she used to be an absolute gremlin.

A lot of these things also apply to my other Sona blog ( @virtuous-dignity ), where she is extremely structured and self-confident and a bit of a recluse, so while she’s much much nicer, she’s also a complete hardass. It’s rough stuff, especially since I make sure to point out, “hey this Sona practices music over 8 hours every day.” “Hey this Sona finds it morally wrong to play music for small audiences.” There are certain traits that just cut ideas in the bud.

What inspired you to rp your muse? — I played Sona a lot in bot lane. Multiple years of sexist remarks, shitty writing, and bad characterization made me frustrated. A lot of things were left unexplained and the etwahl felt like too much of a focus that I could not answer, “who is Sona besides a musician with a fancy instrument”. She has to be someone, right? But we never get to that in the story ( nor in the apparent upcoming lore rework either... ). She has to be someone, her being a famous musician is not everything. So I forcibly tossed aside the music part, especially to also prevent accidentally being pulled into ‘your music is so pretty’ plots. Plus: I wanted to write a character with an internal conflict who was going through some things but wanted to be nice anyway - I believe in that idea a lot. And I wanted to write a character that, tbh, could ship and flirt and just... be flirty and easy going more ( hah! didn’t work out so great now! ). My first canon characters were a ‘left by the void Malz’ dealing with his sins and Ori, who I talk about below, and neither were really great for getting that flirty vibe out. I also really wanted to emphasize that... Well, to be blunt, that if I wrote Sona as sexually promiscuous, that wasn’t a bad thing. That ‘being sexy’ and ‘sex positive’ did not equal ‘objectified tiddy witch’ and ‘perfect candidate for oppai mouse pad’ and other things I’ve heard directed at me in my league experience. Many, many things. Ugh. It kind of did end up turning into a thing where Sona herself draws an interesting line between ‘haha I can tell everyone’s looking at me with those eyes and it’s the fucking worst’ and ‘ok but I trust you and am in bed with you, so I want you to grab me’ - but that’s getting more into ns/fw topics so I’ll leave it there.

What keeps your inspiration going? — All my characters tend to be expressions of myself, as well as answering important thematic questions, like “What does it mean to be rejected by your home and no longer have a place”, and some other stuff. I usually go back to that. Plus, exploring concepts around abandonment and loneliness is something I do a lot with her - feelings of neglect and disillusionment, and ideas surrounding “do I need to like someone or be liked by someone to treat them with dignity”. ( virtuous-dignity, on the other hand, was created because I wanted to write something as soft and uwu as possible, and then it turned into something about ‘balancing dignity for oneself with duty to others’ and handling those kinds of conflicts. )

I also really do enjoy, on some level, turning people around on these characters. “You made me care about character x” is such high praise.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK. ( idk, how many of you think robots are hot- )

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK. ( I think people downplay Ori’s intelligence a lot, but Riot also casually implied she did open heart surgery on herself so??? )

Are they underrated? YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO / MAYBE ?

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO / MAYBE ?

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon? — hahahahahahaha. hah. hah. Sorry. Everything I write is divergent by default.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — A genius inventor and cute spherical robot duo who speak to other robots and shoot lightning, run around acting cute, and try to save their city one step at a time - all while dealing with deep existential dread and fighting off a fate that decrees Ori’s death. Between ‘pancake bot’ and Ori being an accidental flirt, there’s plenty of variety and development here as my oldest canon muse. Not to mention that the blog ‘grows’ and ‘changes’, and in the last year, Ori has taken to dying her hair pink ( because Vi is cool is why, just don’t let her near a rifle or she’ll try to imitate Cait ). I also regularly think about / draw different hairstyles and clothing styles. Ori is very much ‘alive’, the most so out of the three muses on this blog. A human that has the memories of being a robot, trying to live on and live a good life. Also, there are bird, angel, and time themes. So many clocks. Mega clocks!

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — Deep angst and existential dread, because she knows her fate is to die and she’s cheated time. Themes of dysphoria and other troubling topics abound. Being stuck in time loops, thinking she’s an aberration, needing crutches because her legs stop working, etc.

Also, removing the fact that she is a robotic automaton is a bunch of the appeal of Ori. Or well, it’s what makes her character ‘interesting and unique’ to many. Without that, she is ‘yet another Zaunite’, as the thing that made her most interesting was her death and rebirth. ( Nevermind that her entire story is that she’s a selfless person but- I’m supposed to act like she’s bad, right? )

What inspired you to rp your muse? — Hey remember when institute of war was a thing? And then when it wasn’t? And Ori’s lore was “died to a turret shot trying to be a champion”... and then it was up in the air for two years?

That’s why. If no one else will love her, I will. She deserves better. And then the lore became close to my lore so I rewrote everything a second time trying to stick to the themes I had.

Ori’s thematic question is, “What do you do when you don’t recognize yourself anymore? How do you get back to ‘okay’ and what do you do from there?” It’s a pretty dim question that has a lot to do with body image, but also to do with abandonment and neglect, and just dropping out of people’s lives. I think that’s something that people can really relate to. I originally wrote her on a multi with a ‘post void Malz’, who was dealing with the trauma of being puppeted around for years and all the things he had done, trying to get back to ‘okay’ without getting killed. More below:

What keeps your inspiration going? — Themes as noted above, Ori is super cute, and a lot of my art & general ideas. I’ve kind of turned these three characters in borderline OCs and keep developing them as they grow... Sometimes I think the stories and concepts I’ve written have outgrown the fandom. And thinking about her, and how she would live, and what her story is... mmm.

Also, the themes I write... I think they matter. Maybe it’s not obvious to anyone but myself, but writing a character who feels dysphoria and hates their body for ‘betraying them’... is relatable. It’s not nice. It’s not simple. But it’s relatable and it matters. Ori’s theme on this blog has a lot to do with “fighting a fate that says you’re going to lose and defying expectations” as well as “coming back from something wicked and rotten in your psyche/body”. And I do write some other skin verses for her but they’re all adapted to meet that theme. ( For example, in SG, she rises to guardian after finding out she’s fated to become a dark star and fights that fight alone, because ‘hell no she’s not going to go dark’. This was 5+ years ago back when there were theories SG and DS were same universe. )

Mostly it’s writing about these themes of expectation and reality. Overprotective parent, absentee parent, dealing with trauma... All my writing is like that. It can make my characters seem overly tragic, yes, but these ideas are not so far gone that they’re completely irrelevant and beyond belief. I’m sure many people have experienced emotional exhaustion and problems with body image. Even though I do write ‘polite but ready to fight’ characters only... Well, I believe in exploring and expressing these kinds of problems. Inner conflict and all. But also fluff! Fluff is really nice! Talk to her about pancake robot.

I also really do enjoy, on some level, turning people around on these characters. “You made me care about character x” is such high praise.

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. ( post rework??? oh my god )

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK. ( hard to consider ‘martial’ characters strong when Xer/ath and Syn/dra exist )

Are they underrated? YES / NO. ( she’s a little overrated, isn’t she? )

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO / MAYBE ?

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO / MAYBE ?

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon? — I still draw from old lore with her big four blades of doom and ‘reviving’ with the help of Raka ( though I leave it vague / easy to gloss over ). I also had a lot of ideas about music and rhythm and tradition before the update ( drums were a big thing for her, so strong percussive beats and motions reign over the more silk and ribbon dances that flow more, drawing on things like Zelos existing, Lito’s lessons & harsh behavior, and her own internalized habits of trying to calm herself ), so I draw on those a ton. For me, the progression is ‘classic’ -> ‘infiltrator / nightblade ‘ -> ‘aviator’ all as one timeline. Also wrote her as being ‘missing in action’, which makes the awaken cinematic weird. I also really try to emphasize that she’s an emotionally stunted wardog with scars and not ultra pretty, so.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — A world traveler and a wardog, you can find her anywhere, any time, ready to kick some butt and enjoy the local food. Her simmering fury is a counterpoint to her relatively muted demeanor and adventurous spirit. However you may find her, there’s a definite charm to being flown up above the clouds to watch a sunset and talk. She will fly you where you need to be.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — I’m a little stuck on old lore and writing Lia as a character that has “left behind” her past and is pretending to be dead does make certain interactions tough. She’s also a deeply stunted character, emotionally, and I write her ten years of experience as having chilled her to a cold, ever burning ember rather than a passionate flame. Also, ‘aviator’ is kind of weird to handle for a lot of people.

What inspired you to rp your muse? — This one is really simple. When this blog started, the only splash where Irelia was smiling was the aviator splash. That’s it. That as the whole reason. “I want her to be happy and have found her happiness.”

What keeps your inspiration going? — I will admit that Lia is the character that I give the least attention to out of these three, and part of it is because I don’t really do flirting or shipping with her as much. She’s not one to reach out to others, and there are a lot of popular Lia blogs to the point that when I, as a multi, write with someone... She probably isn’t the first pick.

But I just... want her to be happy. That’s it. As I mentioned with the Ori section, what I’ve worked out for her has kind of outgrown the fandom itself, she’s become a different entity. Her themes largely involve recovery and finding oneself anew, and writing a character that is passionate about others while still being cool-headed is some of the variety I need. Because Lia is ace/homosexual, she sits out on a lot of the flirty content, but the chances I get to write her being romantic and caring... my god. Just a few posts back and forth with @unholyshe ‘s Akali and a So/na I used to write with....... Unforgettable. ( On that note go follow @unholyshe what a good writer, gosh dang. ) It’s these small interactions I find intensely compelling, and having a ‘quiet intensity’ and really thinking about her body language...

Also it’s nice to write a character with little secret agenda, who is just straightforward. “Will I enjoy kissing you? Only one way to find out. ‘It was okay.’ “ A ‘the only way forward is through, just do it’ attitude is refreshing.

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

Learning to write all three characters helps me write the others: The little things I think about that are specific to each person really help me out for the others. The depth of using body language from Sona bleeds into how Lia uses body language, and how Ori doesn’t ( even common ticks ), etc etc. Ori’s blunt, observational style of speaking ( telling you that you look good like it’s an observational fact ) helps me understand how to be straightforward with Lia.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES …? / NO. ( sometimes I do get very anxious abt it, esp. since I’m so divergent and do things like ‘so/na is one part succubus lol’ )

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO. ( do excerpts count? less headcanons and more musings, since I’m on like 5+ years with 2/3 of these. )

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO. ( time is not a thing but I used to write a ton, my drabble energy goes to novels now )

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO. ( this is why you see mobile posts from me constantly, and so many excerpts / musings ).

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO. ( It’s what I want but it can also be disillusioning / disappointing to people so. Dunno. Anxiety. =/ )

Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO. ( It takes me a bit to warm up to a character again, but yes. I know my writing is not bad but I can be a little insecure about it. )

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO. ( Very. I cry a lot and I get upset pretty easily. Sometimes I end up being really cold instead but idk. )

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal? — To a point. Sometimes criticism is irrelevant or meaningless, or is just personal taste. “Sona shouldn’t be that strong” isn’t helpful ( but thinking about ways to pare down the complexity is good! ) Sometimes I get criticism that is the equivalent of tasting a chocolate cake and going, “It should have been vanilla, I like vanilla better.” That’s cool, but that has nothing to do with the taste of the chocolate cake I made. ( Ori as a human isn’t interesting, talk more about Sona & the etwahl even though it’s broken, Lia flying doesn’t make sense, etc - these are foundational flavors, so what can I do? ).

Also sometimes people make comments that make me feel they’re just being petty / catty and not sincere. I’ve seen quite a few hypocritical comments and it’s hard to take them seriously. So, yes, but ‘to a point’... Mostly I take suggestions, which I then talk about for the muse. Exploring those ideas. Unsolicited criticism is... hmm. In my experience, about half of it isn’t constructive. And from the wrong person, it can sound judgemental.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character? — Of course? I love asks. Always. Great. Awesome. If I have a chance to draw to answer these asks, even better.

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why? — Not really. I’m divergent, they probably disagree because they have a different vision for the character. I’ll be honest here and say I’ve had enough people tell me that “my portrayals are not what they expected” that this can be... disheartening. I usually have a good reason for 80% of my hcs. If we’re talking in IMs though or just conversing, I’m totally fine with it. This comes back to unsolicited criticism - to be a little blunt, some people just straight up don’t know what they’re talking about. And given that I put a bunch of effort in trying to make sure most of my headcanons can be glossed over, so it doesn’t cause conflict and my ‘ultra grim take’ doesn’t cause the end times... I dunno. I’d rather that someone tell me “the kind of interactions they want”, so I can lean into that direction. If you just want fluff, I can leave most of my darker hcs for So/na at the door... But you need to tell me that, so I can work with you.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it? — just leave? huh? I mean, I already know people disagree. If you’re not rude, then we’ll just move on and be chill. Otherwise... well, we won’t be chill and you can still go, but I’ll consider you a dick. I don’t expect everyone to agree with “Ori is a human”, but why bring that up to me?

This is why a lot of the time, when people talk about characters and my muses, my brain defaults to “Well that has nothing to do with me.” Why should I invest any time being upset that people are disappointed with my portrayal or I’m not what they expected. It’s exhausting. People have some really strong opinions about Lia and Sona sometimes, but... ‘that has nothing to do with me.’ There’s no point in trying to convince someone to try your flavor of ice cream when they’ve already decided what flavor and toppings they want. It just leads to tremendous insecurity. I should not have to argue that ‘my portrayal is worth paying attention to’.

Ugh. I might be too sensitive about this. There was a point where people really got in the habit of saying, “this is how character x is” ( not their muse ), and it felt like someone trying to enter my kitchen. It did not feel like a suggestion or an idea. It was an assertive, “this is how Irelia is” by, say... a Ry/ze or Ken/nen blog or something. That felt extremely isolating and alienating to me, because it felt like I could not participate in that conversation at all. Or stuff after. I had to sideline myself, because... that has nothing to do with me or my interpretations. Ofc griping at them is wrong because I know they mean, ‘this is how I see it’, but ye. I’m short tempered and easily upset. Working on it.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it? — um? bye? hello?

god I used to go “ ok that’s cool you don’t like my portrayal, here are some other great So/na blogs that I love” but I realized that I was directing someone who felt the need to tell me my portrayal or character is bad to those people... and no. no no no. I still feel a little guilty about it, because thinking I directed a toxic person to my duplicates... yuck.

If you don’t like the characters, or you don’t like my divergent takes, that’s fine. I get it’s not for everyone. Just unfollow me. You’re not paying me. You’re not under any obligation. To an extent, i don’t mind being critical of the character, but there’s a difference between being critical and being hateful to someone’s muse? And it depends a lot on how close I am with a person. For example, I think Sy/las is a complete scumbag and I hate him, but I don’t go yelling that to every Sy/las blog I see. C’mon.

Another bit of salt but it’s... kind of a sad topic, really. There are some characters people love to hate, whereas other ones get the ‘protection squad’. And in general it’s really disheartening to see someone shittalk Lux every two weeks, but go ‘these other champs are off limits’. If you have that attitude, it makes me think you’ll shittalk my characters the moment they get popular ( COUGHIRELIACOUGH ) and that’s kind of sad. And mean. So general advice on this is: Probably just don’t tell someone you hate their muse, you know? Idk. Everyone has their own tolerance level too so. meh.

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors? — Somewhat. Not much to say here, sometimes I am very tired, sometimes I comma splice like a madman, sometimes I overuse hyphen dashes to avoid deciding whether to use a comma, period, or semicolon - like this. I don’t need an editor. English is my first language. But if there’s something egregious or you have tips, let me know? I’m someone who looks up grammar rules regularly, and breaks teh rules just as regularly. Knowing when and how to break grammar rules is useful. Though I do tend to... overuse something once I’ve learned it. Hyphen dash, I’m looking at you.

Do you think you are easy going as a mun? — Yes and no. I’m chill, I can be a little overly passionate, and I’m pretty quick to apologize... But I have certain moral standards and if you break those, you’re done. Also I can be a vengeful bastard. I try to give as much benefit of the doubt as I can and many chances, but I’ve noticed that I really... have a sour attitude towards a lot more people than I expect. Sometimes people who are very well liked, just because they said or did something that ticked me off. Luckily, I have the special skill of not being a jerk even if I don’t like you, and overall trying to be nice to most people, so it usually won’t matter.

Ah and I can be a little selective in who I talk to / play favorites a bit. I’m a busy person with an adult life and a stressful job, I only have so much patience. I skip from “tolerating it” to “leaving”, and that can seem like I ghosted, but that’s not always the case. Just better to leave than to pick fights. I have some pretty strict standards and harsh opinions. Short temper. Vengeful. Alas.

Somehow people think I am very nice and baby, so take that for what you will. Pft. I just want people to be happy and feel comfortable and okay. Wrong is wrong, blah blah blah ok I stop now.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

( If you managed to read all this, with 3 full muses... Let me know, I want to hug you??? )

#long post tw #ooc #//...I think this took me over an hour to write oops.

4 notes · View notes

berjhawn · 5 years

Text

Elastic Heart - Part 7 - Azog

Warnings: Fighting, ETC

Pairings: Hobbit X OFC; Thranduil X OFC; Fili X OFC; LOTR X OFC

A/N: Since Tumblr is Broke you’ll have to go to my master-list to find all the other parts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suddenly a Warg howls out in the distance. Hearing the howling, we realize we are in danger. “Out of the frying pan...” Thorin says as he looks to Gandalf who finishes his sentence, “...and into the fire! Run! RUN!”

We all start running down the mountain as fast as we can. The Wargs follow us rapidly as it becomes nighttime. Soon the foremost Warg catches up to the group and leaps at Bilbo who ducks behind a rock and the Warg’s jaws snap in the air over his head. The Warg lands in front of him. Growling, it charges at him. Bilbo pulls out his sword and holds it in front of him; the charging Warg impales itself in the head on the sword and falls down dead. Bilbo looks on in surprise.

“Bilbo!” I call as I run back to him right as a few more Wargs catch up to the fleeing dwarves, but they are quickly dispatched. We reach a large outcropping of land with a few trees growing on it; we are trapped there, as there is no way off the outcropping besides a great fall down the mountain.

“Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!” Gandalf cries as he starts to climb. Bifur throws an axe, killing a Warg which was approaching him. Bofur jumps off a rock and grabs a tree branch, using Dwalin’s head as a stepping stone to the tree. Other dwarves begin climbing into the trees as well. I quickly climb a nearby tree before realizing Bilbo isn’t next to me.

I look back to see Bilbo trying to pull his sword out of the dead Warg’s head, but it is stuck firmly. He continues to pull.

“They’re coming!” Thorin cries and right as Bilbo pulls his sword out of the Warg; He looks up to see several more Wargs running at him. Using my legs as an anchor I flip back down and grabbing him pull him up into the trees with us.

“Go!” I cry as I collect myself and push him further up the tree. Dozens of Wargs circle the trees in which we are perched. The Wargs cease their growling and turn as the White Warg, with a pale Orc on its back, approaches slowly. Thorin looks at him in shock as he says, “Azog?!”

As his White Warg growls, Azog strokes it and talks ominously. “Nuzdigid? Nuzdi gast?” (Do you smell it? The scent of fear) “Ganziligi unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Trainob.” (I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain)

I turn to see that Thorin looks stricken with pain and grief, realizing that Azog had captured his father. Azog speaks to his Wargs and Riders as he says, “Kod, Toragid biriz.” (That one is mine) “Wororida!” (Kill the others)

At his command, the Wargs leap forward and try to climb the trees. They jump as high as they can, scrabbling at the tree trunks and breaking apart branches in their jaws in their efforts. The trees shake violently at the assault, and we all struggle to hold on.

“Sho gad adol!” (Drink their blood!) Azog cries out into the night air. With the weight of the Wargs climbing it, the furthest tree from the edge of the cliff, which Bilbo, myself, and several other dwarves are in, gets uprooted from the ground and begins leaning wildly.

As more Wargs grab onto it, the tree tips over and lands on the next tree. We jump from the falling tree to the next. However, this tree as well tips over; like dominoes, all the trees begin falling over. All the dwarves, Bilbo, Gandalf, and myself manage to jump onto the last tree, on the very edge of the cliff.

This tree doesn’t fall over. Azog laughs. Looking around in desperation, Gandalf spies a pine cone. He grabs it and uses his staff to set the pinecone on fire; he then throws it down amid the Wargs, who retreat in fear of the fire. Azog is startled and angry at the unexpected resistance. Gandalf lights two more pinecones and throws one down to Fili. Fili catches the pinecone. Bilbo and the dwarves gather pinecones and Gandalf sets them on fire; We then throw the flaming pinecones like missiles at the Wargs. All the area around the tree gets set on fire, forcing the Wargs to retreat a distance. At least one Warg gallops away with its fur alight.

Azog roars in anger and frustration as the dwarves cheer. Suddenly, our cheers turn into cries of fear as the roots of the tree we are in start to give way; the tree tips precariously over the edge of the cliff, but comes to a rest sticking straight out away from the edge of the cliff. Gandalf looks down and sees the ground far, far, below. The dwarves try to hold on as they get flung around. Ori loses his grip on the tree and falls, but manages to grab on to Dori’s leg. “Aahhh! Oh! Oh no!” Ori cries out as Dori calls to Gandalf.

Because of the extra weight, Dori loses his grip on the tree as well and falls, but Gandalf quickly swings his staff down and Dori grabs on to the end of it as he calls, “Hold on, Ori!” Azog growls; Thorin, clinging to the tree, looks at him in hate and anger. Thorin pulls himself up, his sword drawn, and walks down the leaning trunk as I and the others, hanging from the tree, look on. Thorin runs through the burning ground at Azog and his White Warg. Azog spreads his arms wide with a smug grin on his face. Thorin growls as he runs with his sword up and his oaken branch shield held in front of him.

Azog crouches, then roars as his Warg leaps at Thorin. Thorin tries to swing his sword, but the Warg hits him in the chest with its forepaw, smashing Thorin to the ground. The other dwarves in the tree including myself look on in shock. As Thorin gets back on his feet, panting, Azog and his White Warg wheel around and charge at Thorin again. Azog swings his mace and smashes Thorin in the face before he can react. Thorin is brutally flung to the ground by the impact.

I hear the dwarves cry out in anguish but all I can do is stare at him my body full of fear. Azog roars in excitement. Bilbo manages to stand up on the tree. The White Warg clamps its jaws around Thorin and he yells in pain. Dwalin tries to get off and tree to assist Thorin, but the tree branches he is holding on to break, swinging him precariously over the edge and preventing him from reaching Thorin. “Thorin!” I cry out along with my companions.

As the White Warg holds Thorin in its mouth, Thorin manages to hit its head with the pommel of his sword. Roaring, the White Warg throws Thorin several feet away onto a flat rock nearby. Thorin lands heavily, his sword falling out of his hand. He is almost unconscious.

“Biriz torag khobdudol.” (Bring me the Dwarf’s head) Azog says to one of his Warg Riders who jumps off his Warg and approaches Thorin. Bilbo, seeing this, pulls out his own sword, which glows blue. The orc approaches Thorin and places its sword against his neck; raising the sword, the rider prepares to decapitate Thorin.

As he swings his sword down, Bilbo throws himself at the Orc and knocks him over. As they fight, Bilbo manages to stab and kill the Orc. As Azog growls in anger, Thorin goes unconscious. Pulling his sword out of the dead Orc’s body, Bilbo stands in front of the unconscious Thorin and protects his body. He waves his sword wildly at Azog and the other Wargs. Azog smiles in hatred and speaks in the Black Speech to his Orcs, “Kill him.”

Pulling myself up, I clutch Ithildin and ripping him from his sheathe feel adrenaline fill my body. A couple of Wargs and Riders approach Bilbo, snarling. Suddenly, Fili, Kili, Dwalin, and myself, plow into the Wargs from the side and start fighting them.

In the confusion, Bilbo yells and leaps forward, wounding a Warg. I make my way toward Azog anger seething throughout my body. As I make my way to him I am distracted by another Orc and turn to fight him. After I slit his throat I glance over to see Fili, Kili, and Dwalin have been surrounded by Wargs, and Bilbo is at Azog’s mercy.

Suddenly Eagles appear and grabbing some of the Wargs and Orcs toss them over the cliff. Others knock down trees, which crush the Wargs below them. Another Eagle fans the flames with its wings, causing an inferno which burns the Wargs.

Azog snarls in frustration. One Eagle gently grabs Thorin and his sword in its talons and flies away. As Thorin is lifted off the ground, his oaken branch shield slips off his arm and lands on the ground. Azog roars and jumps back as an Eagle flies by him; the Eagle heads straight for an alarmed Bilbo and snatches him off the ground. The rest of the Eagles proceed to snatch the dwarves out of the tree and fly away. As one nears me I jump onto his back and let him carry me away.

I feel the wind blow my hair back out of my face making me squint my eyes. The Eagles soar through the sky over a great distance and over many landscapes. Thorin lies unconscious in one Eagle’s talons; the others worry about him.

“Thorin!” I hear Fili cry and manage a glance in his direction. The Eagles approach a massive rock structure shaped like a bear; It is the Carrock. The Eagle carrying Thorin gently deposits him and his sword on a flat area on top of the Carrock. Another Eagle lands on the Carrock and Gandalf slides off its neck, running toward the unconscious Thorin.

“Thorin! Thorin.”Gandalf calls but Thorin is not responding.

When the Eagle I was riding drops me off I stand frozen as I stare Thorin as a sudden realization fills my body. The last thing I had said to him was that he was selfish. As I stare at his unconscious body his form starts to blur with my father’s making my eyes fill with tears and my heart stops. Gandalf places his hand on Thorin’s face and whispers a spell. Thorin’s eyes flutter open and he gasps for air. He speaks weakly, “The halfling?”

“It’s all right. Bilbo is here. He’s quiet safe.” Gabdalf says as the rest of my companions surround the wounded Thorin. Dwalin and Kili help Thorin up. However, once he’s up, he shrugs them off and approaches Bilbo.

“You! What were you doing? You nearly got yourself killed! Did I not say that you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild and that you had no place amongst us?”

Thorin advances until he is face to face with Bilbo, who looks worried and frightened. My sadness is instantly replaced with annoyance until Thorin continues, “I’ve never been so wrong in all my life!”

Thorin grabs Bilbo and embraces him deeply. The other dwarves cheer loudly and slap each other on the back while Gandalf smiles. Bilbo, looking quite surprised, hugs Thorin back. “I am sorry I doubted you.” Thorin says as he pulls away.

“No, I would have doubted me too. I’m not a hero or a warrior...not even a burglar.” As everyone chuckles, the Eagles fly away, screeching. I feel a hand gently touch mine and I turn to see Fili who is staring at me concerned.

I instantly wipe my eyes as I say, “I’m fine.” He nods and I look back to Thorin who looks beyond Bilbo and sees something; he strides forward, and the others follow his gaze.

“Is that what I think it is?” Bilbo ask as we see off in the distance the outline of a single, solitary mountain.

“Erebor—The Lonely Mountain. The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle Earth.” Gandalf says and Thorin smiles as he says, “Our home.” A bird cheeps and flies by.

“A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain.” Oin says and I chuckle as more birdsong is heard.

“That, my dear Oin, is a thrush.” Gandalf says and I feel a smile cross my lips as Thorin says, “But we’ll take it as a sign a good omen.”

“You’re right. I do believe the worst is behind us.” Bilbo says but you can’t help but feel he is wrong. We all look on at the Lonely Mountain as the sun comes up behind us.

Will Continue -

#berjhawn #elastic heart #hobbit x oc #original female character #fanfiction #fili x OC #thranduil x oc

12 notes · View notes

sorenmarie87 · 6 years

Text

Wild Card

Part 4/Final Part

Previous Parts - Draw Four | Reverse | Skip

Summary: It’s time for you to take some photos with your boys and you are left with a few questions until someone unexpected offers you answers.

Pairing(s): Sam x Dean x Cas x Reader (Dragon! Reader), Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader, Cas x Reader, Dean x Cas. Mention’s readers past relationship with Alatariel (OFC) x Isamu (OMC) and possible/past relationship with Gabe x Reader.

Square filled: Photo shoot (SPN Fluff Bingo)

Word Count: 3,086

Warning: Light angst. Mostly fluff. Jealous Dean. Smut. We learn someone’s true identity.

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo. Well here it is at last the final part. Huge shout out to everyone who helped with this. It’s been a long time coming. Don’t fret guys - this isn’t the last we’ll see of these guys <3 I’ve had a sequel planned for a long time now. This was my first time attempted to write Chuck, I hope he turned out okay.

I do not own the pictures in my story aesthetic - I found them on pinterest.

Forever Tags - @lovetusk @coffee-obsessed-writer @mirajanefairytailmage @kazosa @soythedemonqueen @docharleythegeekqueen@holyfuckloueh@ellen-reincarnated1967 @ravenangel33

SPN Tags - @clockworkmorningglory@underestimatemethatwillbefun@nyxveracity @lefthologramdeer

While the boys were gone, you were attempting to tidy up the library. There were books that you knew the boys weren't using anymore, so you were going to put them back where they were before. The bunker was quiet for the most part. You had music blaring from your phone while you were cleaning, it was a playlist that Sam and Dean put together for you.

The reason you were currently alone? The boys were on a hunt a few states away.

You were trying to pay full attention when Dean explained where they were going and what they were hunting. It wasn't your fault you were distracted - Sam kept making faces at you while Dean was talking and when he grinned, he knew he had you.

Those damn dimples.

You were so absorbed with cleaning that you didn't feel arms wrap around your waist or the chin that was on you shoulder. “I think you might be losing your touch.”

You shifted your weight and flipped Sam onto the library floor. You straddled his waist and stared down at him with a grin. “Who's losing their touch?”

Leaning forward, you brushed a stray hair from his face and you gently pressed your lips to his. Sam shifted below you and deepened the kiss.

“If I wanted to watch someone getting frisky, I would've watched porn.” You rolled your eyes at the older Winchester but you knew he was just messing with the two of you. “Were you okay here by yourself Y/N?”

“Of course.” You watched him set his duffel down on the table and gently press his lips against your cheek. “Welcome home, Dean.”

“Wasn't Cas behind you?”

“He was but he said there was something he had take care of with Gabriel.”

You were going to ask who the hell Gabriel was but you left it alone.

Something was wrong. You were curled into Sam's side when you felt the air change around you. Opening your eyes, you realized that you weren't in the bunker anymore. “What the hell…” You caught a glance of yourself in the mirror and when your eyes flashed gold, you knew it was just a matter of time. You untangled yourself from Sam before transforming. You sighed and instead of climbing back into bed (like that would be a good idea), you made yourself as comfy as you could at the foot of the bed.

Sam woke up confused and alone. He reached for you and noticed your side of the bed was cold. Sam sat on the edge of the king sized bed and waited for his eyes to adjust to the rooms natural lighting. When he saw your tail flip from in front of the bed, he carefully made his way towards you. He called out for Dean and Cas but his cries fell on deaf ears.

“Y/N, sweetheart are you okay?” You nudged his side and growled low in your throat when you sensed someone else was in the room with you.

“Samsquatch, how's it hanging?”

“Gabe - what the hell? Where are we?”

“Gabe, why does that name sound familiar?”

“This is my first time meeting you, doll.”

“Two questions - where the hell are we, and where are Dean and Cas?”

“Don’t worry about Dean-o and my baby brother for now. You’ll see them later.”

“That still doesn’t answer where we are.”

“I have it on good authority that someone here enjoys collecting photos.”

“Wait...are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, sweetheart.” The three of you are in an abandoned warehouse that was set up to look like a photographer’s studio with multiple sets. You felt Sam running his hand through your mane as you looked around. “There's just one problem with this.”

“You were expecting a female human, not a female dragon huh?”

“This form is beautiful, don't get me wrong. I just can't do anything photo wise.”

“You could but this isn't what I wanted.”

You closed your eyes for a split second and when you heard what sounded like fingers snapping, you opened your eyes wide. Sam and Gabriel were discussing something away from you. Your eyes focused and you realized there was a small stack of photo albums in front of you. One was partially open, so you carefully moved your claw and nudged it. You smiled when you realized these were some of the extras from your shoe boxes. Carefully flipping to the next page, you smiled when you saw your very first picture. It was of Isamu, Alatariel and you. You felt tears trickle down your cheek, and when you pulled your hand away, you realized you had shifted back.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” Sam watched you sniffle as he pulled you in for a hug.

“Just remembering some things from the past.”

“Whoa Sammy, who's the hottie?” He heard you chuckle as Sam shifted you in his arms, making sure to cover you up.

“It’s nice to finally meet you Gabe.”

“Likewise, sweet cheeks.” He watched as you smiled and met his eyes.

“Okay so, how is this going to work?”

“What I need you to do right now.” Gabe paused and snapped his fingers. He handed you the flannel shirt and you looked up at Sam confused. “Put Samsquatch’s flannel on, and go make yourself comfy on that bed.”

You wanted to question it but Sam released you from his arms and you slipped his flannel over your naked body. You held the shirt together as you made your way over to the bed. “Hey Sammy, any ideas on how I should do this?” Sam was no help.

Gabe could tell by the look on your face that you were still nervous. He gave you some pointers on how to you could pose and even got you to relax by telling you some jokes.

“Looking good there dollface.” You had to look over your shoulder at him, but you tried not moving. You were facing away from the headboard with one arm across your lower belly and the your right index finger was resting between your lips. Your left leg was bent slightly, and the shirt was left unbuttoned. Sam helped you position it just right, and he moved out of the way as soon as the camera started flashing.

“Okay next outfit.” You heard Gabe call out and snap his fingers. It landed next to you on the bed and you smirked. Shedding the red and blue flannel, you glanced down at your next outfit. It was one of your FBI outfits - a light blue button up with with a black miniskirt.

You put on the solid white bra first, and then draped yourself with the shirt. You left the top two buttons undone, and when Sam peeked over his shoulder, you watched a smile form.

“Get your skirt on, Y/N. I think I have an idea for this next photo.” You finished dressing and you felt Sam grab your hand. You took a few steps and he stopped. He turned around to face you and that's when you felt it. He had a handful of your left boob and was gently kneading it. You bit the inside of your cheek and waited for this picture to be taken.

“So, you come here often?” You tried to hold back a laugh but you couldn't.

“Sam, stop coping a feel for a few minutes and let’s take this picture, okay?”

“Fine.”

You felt Sam gently kiss your cheek before Gabe snapped him out of the room. You blinked and in that instance, you outfit changed and Dean was standing off to the side. “Having fun yet, sweetheart?” You kisses his lips softly and pulled away from him.

“I wasn’t at first.”

“I told Cas it was a bad idea to move you during the night but did he listen, no. I'm sorry about that.” He kissed the top of your head and hugged you. He pulled away slowly, and got a good look at what you were wearing. “Wow, you look amazing. I hope you get to keep this and wear it around the bunker.”

You felt Dean guide you to the full length mirror and you finally understood what he meant. You were currently in a Batman crop top, white and black hipster underwear and knee high socks that matched.

“You don't dress up a good looking girl like that, and not let her keep what she’s wearing.” You watched as Gabe winked at you and Dean pulled you closer.

“Okay Dean, you need to help me out here.”

Dean weighed his options and he led you to a different set. He smiled as he released you. Gabe was giving you pointers again, and you couldn't help but watch Dean. His arms were folded as he stood off in the corner watching the two of you. He knew he had nothing to be jealous of, he knew that but yet something about the situation was bothering him.

“Dean-o, we need you for this one. Your lady requested it.”

It was lightly raining but yet the sun was shining. You smiled at Dean as your clothes changed and he pulled you into his arms. You tried pulling back, but you were stuck. “Okay, what's wrong?”

“Nothing.” You cocked an eyebrow and looked up at Dean. His green eyes met yours, and you sighed.

“It's not nothing, hun. Something has you upset.”

‘'m not upset.” You heard him mumble something into your neck as he backed the two of you up and pinned you down against the stone picnic table.

“What was that?” Dean refused to answer you no matter how many times you asked. He was kissing and biting your neck, as he held you close. You tried pulling away again but Dean put his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you in for a hungry kiss.

“Dean.” You pulled away and tried catching your breath. “Seriously, is it that hard to answer me?” He tried capturing your lips again but you put your hand over his mouth. It wasn't until you felt him nibbling on your fingers, that you raked your other hand through his short hair with a sigh.

Dean spoke again, sounding more like Charlie Brown’s teacher's than the strong and assured hunter that he is.

“Dean, please… use words.”

“I was jealous, dammit.” You heard him mumble through your hand. He kissed your palm, and moved it away. “I didn't want you to know, it's embarrassing.”

“Oh Dean.” You kissed his check and cupped his face. “After all of this is over, let me take care of you.”

“Really sweetheart?” He watched you blush and nod. You saw flashes from the corner of your eye and with Dean's encouragement, you finally found the right pose.

Pulling Dean away from you after his photoshoot was over was hard.

You heard a flutter of wings behind you, and the two of you turned. “Hey Cas..” You felt his lips press against your cheek and you grinned.

“Y/N.” You watched as Dean made a circular motion with his hand and you shook your head. You thought it was cute that Dean was still shy about his relationship with Cas.

“Hey sugar, how are you doing?” You were still in your previous clothes as Gabe looked over his shoulder and smiled.

“Oh sweetpea, I'm fine.”

“You sure?” You placed your right on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He placed his hand on top of yours for a split second and removed it when Dean and Cas walked over to where you were.

“I'm excited to see what you came up with for us.” You smiled at Cas and with a snap of his fingers, Dean was gone and you were in your next set of clothes. “Wait, is that...a laundromat?”

“Yep.”

“Wait, I have an idea. Y/N, please take a seat in the laundry cart.”

“I like where this is headed Cas.” He made sure the cart was stable with you in it before he attempted to push it up and down the aisle. “Don't let me fall though.”

“I will do everything in my power to make sure no harm comes to you. Dean and Sam would be very upset.” You laced your hand with Cas’s as he brought you around the corner. You raised both hands in the air with a smile on your face. Even Cas grinned.

You watched as Gabe took a few more pictures and Cas helped you out of the laundry cart. “Just one more photo, are you excited Y/N?”

“Of course.” You heard Cas snap his fingers and your outfit changed for the final time.

“I always knew you'd look good in one of my shirts.”

You chuckled at that. “It's official - Dean has rubbed off on Cas!” You heard Gabe snort behind you in agreement.

“He has done no such thing…”

“You want him to right?” You smirked as his face tinted pink. “I won't tell, I promise.”

“Someday but that's a conversation to have in private though.” Your lips found his for a brief kiss and he led you over to another room. This one had a cream colored couch along the wall.

You groaned as soon as you laid down on the couch. Your head was propped up slightly with your right hand, and you were tugging at Cas’s tie with your left. “Last picture, you excited Y/N?”

You gave a quick thumbs up as Gabe shooed his brother away.

“Hey Gabe, why don’t you take a couple photos with Y/N? I know she would love it.” You were sitting up with your back up against the arm of the couch. You were fussing with the hem of the white button down you were wearing as you watched the two of them talk. Cas might’ve missed it but when Gabe took a look at you, all you saw was sadness.

“I appreciate the offer but,” Gabe snapped his fingers and in your hands two different pictures appeared along with a DVD case. “I'll pass, no offense doll.” You watched him turn away from the two of you. “I’ve already had my opportunity to do that.”

You leaned forward and took a good long look at what was in your hands. It was you in those pictures - the first picture you were in what appeared to be a bathtub with gumballs all over you and in the second one, Gabe was in a white dress shirt and black tie with slacks. He was holding you up and his hand was placed firmly on your ass.

There was a pink post-it stuck on the front of the DVD that just simply stated ‘Watch me.’

Your eyes widened but as soon as you were ready to say something, you were snapped back home to the bunker. You would be spending time with Dean later but for now, you went into your room. You made sure to put these two new photos in one of your shoe boxes. Curiosity was getting the better of you, so you flopped on your bed and pulled your laptop closer to you. You opened the disc drive, popped in the dvd, and started watching. There was something very familiar about all of this.

The remains of her underwear were on the floor in front of the bed, and he didn’t bother removing her thigh high socks or skirt. You watched as he teased her clit with his tongue and she arched her back when he hit that sweet spot. He added another finger, and you watched her face as she reached climax. You shifted the laptop on your bed and as the girl on the screen cried out, you froze. Pausing and rewinding the video a bit, you watched it again, listening carefully to the sounds she was making. It wasn’t until there was a close up of her face, that you paused it once again.

“Guys?” How was this possible? You heard the three of them rush towards your room and flung the door open.

“What’s wrong?” You held up a finger and turned the laptop towards the three of them. You pushed play again and waited. “Is that...?”

“I believe that is Y/N, is it not?”

Dean paused it perfectly on a shot of you. “That’s me all right. I don’t remember this though.”

“I might have an explanation for that one.”

He was standing in the doorway with arms crossed, but you had no idea who he was. “Chuck?”

“Hey guys. Wow, Gabriel was right, you are beautiful.”

“Thank you?” You flushed. “I hate to be rude but, who are you?”

“You really don't remember, do you?” He chuckled softly to himself with a sad smile. “I can remedy that but only if you want me to.”

“Can I have some time to think about this?”

“Of course. If you ever need me, just pray and I'll be here.” Cas had his arms around you the instant Chuck disappeared. He gave you a gentle squeeze before leaving the room and Sam kissed you on top of your head.

You were left alone with Dean and he grinned. “So princess, I believe you promised me something.” He backed you up and your legs hit the bed. “I can tell you're distracted right now, so I can wait.”

“Can we cuddle? I'll be the big spoon if you want.”

“Yeah, that sounds perfect. Could we -”

“Yes Dean, we can finish watching this together.” You felt his lips on your cheek and he grinned. The two of you got comfy on your bed and you restarted what you were watching once again.

Dean had drifted off to sleep beside you, and that left you alone with your thoughts. What did Chuck mean? There were so many questions you had - why did it feel like you knew Gabriel before? Why did those pictures exist and why were you in a porn with him? You thought long and hard before you came to your conclusion.

“Hey Chuck, I mean that’s what Dean called you, so I assume that’s your name. I want to know what I forgot. I have so many questions that are unanswered - “ You felt his hand brush some of your hair aside and gently kiss your forehead. You closed your eyes and just like that, memories you had long forgotten came rushing back.

“Welcome back, Kaida.”

#spnfluffbingo #Dean x Reader #Cas x Reader #Sam x Reader #Dean x Castiel #Destiel #Dean Winchester #Castiel #previous OFC x OMC relationship #Sam Winchester #Gabriel x Reader ?#SPN series #SPN fiction

51 notes · View notes

ishouldprobablybewriting · 6 years

Text

Heavy Hitters- Chapter 6

Heavy Hitters: Outlaw Country pt 6, Interim.

Sara convinces an old friend to join the Waverider team- as research and tech guru only, or so she said. As the newbie struggles to adjust to the team and the team struggles to adjust to her, Sara is playing a different game all together. One the new girl might not like too much.

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow (or Flash or Arrowverse since it’s Mick Rory, but specifically LoT)

Pairing: Mick Rory x Plus Size OFC (cause Mick totally likes thick ladies)

Word Count: 1220

Warnings: Language, tiny bit of angst, sexual suggestions

Tags: @sergeantjbuckybarnes @mother-forker @pattpattpatterson (thanks, guys so much for your support! I hope you dig the new chapter!)

Part one | Masterlist

A/N: I’m hoping to start updating this once every week. Unfortunately that means the chapters will be about this length or a little shorter. Or, if y’all prefer, I can do 3k word chapters every other week. Let me know!

Also, shout out to @adventuresofnight and @professionalunicorn400 for reblogging every chapter of this so far! You guys are great! Since ya’ll have been complete dolls, please message or ask me! I’d like to write something special for ya’ll!

“Sara,” another sigh, “Mick has an affection for fire, Amaya uses a totem, those two were fused thanks to some kind of bullshit science, Nate is a genetic anomoly, Ray is just really fuckin’ smart-” “And me?” Pause. Breathe. Hold. Release. “And you made the best of a really shitty situation that was completely out of your hands- multiple times.” Emily held Sara’s hands and gaze. “I’m a whole different ball game, baby.” Sara was reluctant to give up. “Just-” Unfortunately, Emily was just as stubborn. “Just, fucking think about it. Ok?” “Okay.”

Pluto whined softly as Emily turned over again. The ship had gone into its night cycle more than 4 hours ago and they were both still awake. More Emily than Pluto; of course, Pluto thought the answer was simple. Emily, not so much.

“Fuck it,” she sighed, throwing her covers back and slipping on her slippers. She sat on the bed trying to decide what to do. Emily settled on more research. Pluto huffed when she turned back to him. Emily smiled, “It’s alright, baby,” she ruffled the fur on his head, “You can stay here if you want. I’m just going back to the library. I’ll be back soon.”

He whined shortly but stayed in bed all the same.

She stepped softly as she shuffled down the dark corridor laughing inwardly at herself. The halls of the ship at night reminded her so much of a reoccuring nightmare and yet… This wasn't the nightmare. It wasn’t panic-inducing at all. The only anxiety she seemed to feel, in fact, was her own self-imposed anxiety that she lived with. Currently, it was mostly over her- the- crew finding the footage of her terrible inappropriate pyjamas.

Emily padded into the small library and turned on a lamp. The Waverider library might no have been very extensive but it did house a long list of very rare and one-of-a-kind books. Some of those were right up Emily’s alley, too. Including, the original 1743 Agrippa manuscript. She smiled genuinely as she gently pulled the rough, leather bound book from its place on the shelf. She settled into the cushioned chair and carefully oried back the soft cover. Emily curled up, pulling her feet into the seat and dove into the book.

The Agrippa was more than she had heard, more than she dared hope for when she first spied it on the overfilled shelf.

Emily lost herself to the pages of the book as if they had actually managed to enchant her. She lost track of time, of where she was, of what was around her, the slow constant hum of the ship phasing her into a trance within the manuscript.

She didn’t hear his heavy bare feet slapping along the hard floor, or smell the smoke that seems to follow him everywhere or even feel his intense gaze as he stood not ten feet away and stared at her.

“Didn’t know you could smile like that, Sweets.”

Emily jumped out of her skin, slamming the book closed and turning towards the towering pyromaniac, her fist tight and ready for a fight.

Mick raised an eyebrow at her, arms crossed against his massive chest. Emily blew out a long breath and smiled at him. “Shee-it, Mick,” she laughed, “You scared me half’ta death!”

He smirked down at her in response. Deep brown eyes roving up and down her body. He looked at her wide feet with chipped purple polish on her toenails, her strong calves with faint scars criss crossing them- he made a mental note to find out about those later- her thick thighs pressing against tight grey yoga shorts, a flash of color catching his eye when she shifted awkwardly. Her printed tee shirt was oversized and hung off of one shoulder a bit, her hair pulled up in a loose messy bun, exposing another flash of color and a few more scars, freckles dotting her skin here and there. He absolutely examined her. And said nothing. For an uncomfortably long time. Long enough that her smile faltered.

“What?” He’s going to ask. Of course, he is.

Mick pulled a chair from a table roughly and sat it across the desk from her. “I gotta know,”

Fuck, here it comes. Emily tried to swallow her apprehension.

“How the hell can you read that mumbo-jumbo and actually smile?”

That… was not what Emily was expecting Mick to ask. “Uh,” she blinked a few times, “I guess I just think it’s interesting.” She glanced at the book then back up at him. “You’ve never tried to read it, have you?”

“Nah, got better things to do,”

“Like what?” Emily challenged, meeting his eyes again.

That manic grin lit up his face, “Like burnin’ things, baby!”

Emily couldn’t suppress the smile or bubbly giggle she felt in her throat at his expression. “Well, if it was a book on fires, I’m sure you’d be all over it!”

“I dunno, Sweets. Depends on how graphic the pictures are.” She chucked at that too. Damn. Who knew I was this funny? “Cute laugh, ya got there.”

She stopped immediately.

Shit. Why’d you say that? Stupid.

“Um,” Emily shuffled nervously and tucked a stray strand of hair back into place trying desperately to ignore- and subdue- the burning on her face and neck without breaking eye contact. “Thank you. Can I, uh, help you with somethin’, Mick?”

“Nah, just saw the light. Figured I’d check it.” He made himself comfortable in the chair, slouching a bit.

“I see.”

“Yep.” Emily nodded and went back to her book while Mick stretched his arms behind his head and rested his eyes.

For a bit they were in a companionable silence. Emily resisted the urge to lose herself again. She was aware of Mick’s eyes on her this time.

He grunted and sat back up staring at her hard again. She met his eyes and straightened her back. “Hey, I gotta question for ya.”

“Sure. Whats up?”

“You and Blondie have a lot of secret conversations.”

“Yeah…?” Emily wasn’t excited about where this was going.

“So, y’all fuckin’?”

Emily sat in stunned silence for a beat. Then burst out in loud full bodied laughter. Not cute girly giggling, no. This was the ugly, snorting laugh hardly anyone heard.

Now, Mick sat in stunned silence.

“That's uh… that's quite a laugh…”

“S- sorry! It's just-” Emily struggled, “Do- do you honestly think my pussy’s that good, that Sara, of all people, would put me on a fuckin’ time ship?”

He cocked his head as he considered the plump woman in front of him. And how she would look against the lithe blonde captain. “Nah, I guess not. Not Sara’s style.” His predators grin slid across his face again, “So, how good is that pussy?”

Recognizing the challenge, Emily grinned too. “Fuckin’ magical.” She snickered at her own little joke.

“Huh.” He considered her for a few moments longer. She was opposite him in so many ways- soft where he was rough, kind in a way he couldn’t be. But Mick Rory knew a fire when he saw one. The question was only, just how hot does her flame burn?

“Alright then. Why are you here?”

Breathe. Hold. Release. Emily bit her lip harshly but never broke eye contact. They deserve to know. I have to try, right? “I um…” she licked her lip tasting faint iron, “I’ve known Sara for a while. I’m what she likes to call a ‘90 minute player’. I’m… adaptable.”

Their stare down continued, vibrant viridans clashing against burning blues. “Ain’t done much yet, Sweets. Guess your time to ‘play’ ain't here yet.”

Emily’s blood ran cold. Her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat.

The chair screeched loudly in the stifling silence between them as Mick stood, his heavy footfalls echoing behind him.

Til next time, loves! Be kind to each others, and yourselves!

27 notes · View notes