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middleearthpixie · 3 years

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Someone to Watch Over Me ~ Chapter Twenty-Five

Khuzdal Translations -

Mesmel - jewel of jewels

Sigin’adad - grandfather

bashert - soul mate

Summary: Thorin begins his recuperation and after formally proposing to Seren, introduces her to one of the most serious of dwarvish customs.

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield/Seren (female OC, formerly of Dale)

Characters: Thorin, Seren, Kenia

Rating: T

Warnings: Pure fluff

Word Count: 3,612

@tschrist1

Over the next several days, as Thorin began his recuperation, he found little could try his patience the way his torturer—er, Healer—Kenia tried it. She was a taskmaster and he learned that shredded muscles burned like fire and stomach muscles were needed for the tiniest bit of movement.

Day after day, she had him walking, stretching, lifting (light at first, of course) until sweat poured from him to soak into his tunic, his leggings, until his wounds screamed at him in protest, as his muscles shrieked at him for the same reason. But, with each day, the motions became easier and the pain eased and he changed his mind about running Kenia through the first chance he had.

Three weeks after the Battle of the Five Armies, he sank onto the wide ledge out on the Healing Room terrace and leaned against one of the marble columns. The others arrived several days earlier, and now, as they’d done the last time the Company was in Erebor, the fountains had been made into amusements for them, and he smiled at the shouts of laughter rising from the corner of the courtyard.

“How soon before I might join them?” He looked over at Kenia, who came out to join him on the terrace.

“It shouldn’t be much longer. You are making great progress. Amara is happy.”

“Is she about? There is something I wished to ask her. Well, two somethings, actually.”

“She is in with Elrond at the moment, but perhaps I might answer your questions?”

He sighed softly, letting the towel he’d used to mop his face drape over his thigh. “I’m moving better this last week.”

“You are.” She sank onto the ledge to face him. “I know Amara is pleased and we no longer think you so incredibly stubborn that you do not know when to rest.”

“I’m impatient. I wish to return to Erebor and my life, but I apologize for anything I might have said in my impatience.”

“Worry not about it. Now, what did you wish to ask me?”

A shout of laughter caught his attention and he turned to see Seren had joined the dwarves at the fountain. The sunlight splashing across the courtyard made her hair shimmer like spun gold and when Kili picked her up and tossed her over the side of the fountain, his entire body tensed. But then she laughed again as she surfaced and chopped at the water to send a wave crashing over Kili in return, so he relaxed and smiled. There were few sounds as silvery and beautiful as her laughter. It made him smile every time he heard it and this was no exception.

He leaned his head back against the column. “I wish to propose to Seren this evening. I spoke to Elrond earlier, and he was amenable to allowing me to have the terrace to ourselves so I could do so,”

“Ah, so that’s what the servants were grumbling about. They have to set up two separate dining areas this evening.”

He nodded. “Which I do appreciate, in addition to every other concession that has been made for me and the other dwarves while we’re here. I know they—” he gestured to the fountains below—“can be a trying lot at times.”

“They are—high spirited…”

Another shriek rose and this time, it was Ori being flung into the fountain. Thorin chuckled, then turned back to Kenia. “What I wished to know was, I know Seren is going to say yes. Am I in any danger if she and I…” he hesitated, “if she and I were to…”

“No. There should be no danger at all. If it hurts, stop.”

He chuckled again. “You know, there is a point that, once crossed, renders stopping impossible.”

“Very well,” she also laughed, “take it slow. If it starts to hurt, change positions, slow down, and if there is any other complication, have Seren fetch one of us immediately. But, I don’t see why there should be a problem.”

“Good.” He met her blue-eyed gaze. “I’ve missed her.”

“If you wish, I will tell Amara that you will be spending this night in Seren’s chambers.”

“I would like that, thank you.”

“Of course. Now,” she patted his knee, “shall we get back to work?”

***

A shadow fell over Seren as she sat on a white marble bench near the fountain, waiting for her clothes to dry while the dwarves continued splashing about. Thorin slowly sank beside her, draping an arm about her shoulders. “Did you drown any of them?”

“No,” she leaned against him, “they meant no harm. Did you see?”

“I did.” His fingers skimmed along her hair, then down her arm. “Tonight, would you dine with me out on the terrace?”

“Thorin, I dine with you every night and I have since we’ve been here.”

“I know. But tonight… I’ve something I want to give you and I’d rather not have an audience.”

She looked up at him, noticing with yet another pang of disappointment that the dragonfly she’d given him was nowhere to be found. She tried not to feel that disappointment, as it seemed very childish, but at the same time, she tried to impart upon him how important it was to her as a little girl. She’d been devastated when she’d lost it, and nearly overwhelmed by tears when she unearthed it while looking through the jars of preserves and jellies her mother stored on the cellar shelves. She didn’t understand why her mother wouldn’t tell her it was found, unless it was to punish Seren for disobeying. She didn’t know. She never would know. So many questions that would never have answers.

Her hand slid to her lower belly. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but she thought it seemed rounder now.

“Seren?”

His soft tone jolted her from her reverie and she nodded. “Of course I will.”

“Good.” He leaned to press a kiss into the top of her head. “Where were you?”

“I was just thinking about how many questions I have where my mother is concerned. So many things I can never know now, that I never even knew I didn’t know, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” His brow furrowed. “I think.”

“Like, why did she lie to me about my father? All she had to do was tell me he was an Erebor dwarf, if nothing else. She didn’t even have to name him, I suppose. Or, why tell me I couldn’t have children? It’s not the best way to find out you can by learning you’re pregnant. I mean, what if you hadn’t been the first man?” She shook her head as he arched one brow. “Oh, don’t look at me that way. I know I wasn’t the first woman you ever slept with.”

“That, my love, is different.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is not. Men have all convinced themselves and women that it is, but the notion of my being of less value because I’ve slept with you is silly. It’s silly and antiquated and completely stupid. My worth was never defined by my virginity, nor should it be—for any woman. Are you all so insecure in your own ability that you feel you would come up lacking and that’s why you try to use our virgin’s status as leverage.”

“Seren, I am not even touching that. I know better.”

“Well, tell me, would you love me less or not at all if I’d been with someone before you?”

His hand on her arm went still as the silence stretched. Her stomach did a slow roll. Perhaps she should have quit while she was ahead.

But then, he shook his head. “Of course not, Seren. Yes, it might pass through my mind, wondering how I measured up against another, but that would be all.”

“Which would be silly, because I don’t think anyone could measure up to you.”

His arm tightened about her shoulders and she heard the smile in his voice. “A weight off my mind, love.”

She sighed softly as she shifted slightly to ease her arm about his waist. “Of course, I do wonder, since I know I wasn’t the first for you.”

“Mesmel, you have no need to worry. I have forgotten there ever were any other women before you.”

She knew better, of course, but there was no sense in getting into an argument over it. He’d honed his skills on someone and probably more than one someone, now that she thought about it. And while she reaped the benefits, she still found herself wondering if he did ever find her lacking compared to them.

He caught her beneath the chin and lifted her face to his. “You need never think I am comparing you or finding you lacking, Seren. For I am not and I don’t.”

“How can you not, though?”

“Because there is no need.” His thumb brushed along her jaw lightly. “So, you needn’t worry about it.”

“Thorin—”

“I mean it, Seren. Do not obsess over it. The women in my past are just that, in my past. You are my present and my future, so stop worrying.” He brushed her lips with his, then said, “And now, there is something I need take care of for this evening. So, I will see you later.”

He kissed her again, then rose and as he strolled off, he yelled over to the others, “Try not to break anything! And Nori, try not to steal anything this time.”

“They were only keepsakes!”

Seren pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing as she sank against the back of the bench. What was her dwarf up to? He’d already proposed, so it certainly couldn’t be that, so what was it?

She tried not to let it consume her as she sat and watched the dwarves shooting out of the tubes into the fountain, and the longer she sat there, the easier it became. She hadn’t lied when she described the dwarves as a large, rather weird family, for they were. They were her family now and for that, she would be forever grateful.

“Is everything all right?” Bofur sank into the spot vacated by Thorin. “I saw you and Thorin here and you both looked so very serious.”

“Everything is fine,” she said, turning her head toward him. None of the others knew about the baby yet, but she thought that, being it was his grandchild, perhaps she should tell him. “I have a bit of news, but please don’t tell anyone else yet. Thorin and I want to tell everyone together.”

“Tell them what?”

She smiled at him. “I’m going to have a baby.”

His eyes widened and his jaw went slack. “I’m to be… sigin’adad?”

“What?”

“A grandfather. You do have some catching up to do, don’t you?”

“Thorin has promised to teach me your language, so hopefully it won’t take me long. But, yes,” she nodded, “you will be…. that.”

“And I cannot breathe a word?”

“I wish you wouldn’t, no.”

“Is he to marry you, then?”

She stared at him. “Are you… are you getting fatherly with me?”

He didn’t smile. “Is he?”

This was such a far cry from, the Bofur she’d come to know, that she stared at him for a long moment, then, with a sigh, nodded. “He is. You needn’t worry. Although, I don’t think he’d be much afraid of you.”

“I just think it’s time he faced what was before him the entire time. The lad loves you.”

“I know he does.” She smiled. “And I love him and we’re having a baby.”

“Then I’m happy for you, Seren.” He shifted to draw her in for a hug. “And I’m happy for him, too. It’s about time ye both saw what the rest of us did. Once we learned ye were a girl, that is.”

****

The sun was just sinking into the horizon as Seren approached the terrace where, the last time they were in Rivendell, she watched Thorin actually dance and a dwarvish food fight broke out.

But this time, there was but a single table, in the middle of the terrace and upon in stood an elaborate golden candelabra holding a dozen candles. The setting sun bathed everything in a pinkish gold light, and the equally golden candlelight bathed the table in its pure light. It was set for two, with golden plates, intricately patterned silverware, and goblets that looked to be of the thinnest crystal in existence.

A gentle breeze wafted from the east as soft as a lover’s kiss, rusting through the branches, and the grass, and wrapped about her like gentle arms. She wondered if Amara knew what Thorin had planned, for she had one of the elf-maids bring her a dress of shimmering ivory silk, edged in gold, with long, open sleeves and a long, flowing skirt. She’d never worn any, never even owned anything as lovely as this gown. Unfortunately, Seren had no clue as to how style her hair, so she chose to simply comb it out and leave it loose to spill about her face and tumble halfway down her back.

Thorin had his back to her, gazing out over the courtyard behind the palace, and when he turned, she froze at the look on his face. “What? Is something the matter?”

“Not at all.” He shook his head, a slow smile lifting his lips. “It’s simply… you look… stunning.”

Her cheeks grew warm. “Thank you.”

“Thanking me? For speaking the truth?” He crossed over to her and took her hands in his. “I’ve never seen you look so beautiful, Seren.”

She offered up a smile. He looked stunning as well. Gone were the layers of fur and fabric he wore when traveling, and in their place, clean black trousers and a dark gray shirt with buttons halfway down its front, the top three left open. “You also clean up nicely, dwarf.”

“It isn’t often I do, I’m afraid. At least, not lately.”

“Well, perhaps that will change when we return to Erebor.”

“It will. I plan on being home for a long time, now that I will finally have one.”

She glanced at the table over her shoulder, and then back at him. “What are you about, Thorin Oakenshield?”

“I told you, I had something I wished to give you.” As he spoke, he guided her back toward the terrace’s edge, back to the white marble railing and when he turned back to her, his eyes were more serious than she had ever seen. Her heart sped up, her belly churned, and she didn’t know why.

“Seren, I love you. And I know you’ve said I’ve no need to ask you to forgive me, but part of me still feels I have so much to make up to you for.”

“You really don’t, though,” she whispered. “You’re here, and that’s all I wanted.”

“I do. And if it takes me the rest of my days, I will do just that. And I want to spend the rest of my days with you by my side. I want this baby to have many brothers and sisters and I want us together to watch them grow up and have children of their own.

“I’m not entirely certain I understand the customs of Man, but I know this is one of them.” He reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew a small box covered in moss green velvet. The lid creaked as he opened it, and her eyes widened at the delicate ring nestled in a bed of moss green velvet. It was an oval-shaped emerald surrounded by sparkling clean diamond set in gold.

He lifted it out and sank to one knee, saying, “Will you marry me, Seren Gilwynn?”

As he asked, he slid the ring onto her finger and she smiled as it fit perfectly. “Of course I will, Thorin.”

He rose then, sliding an arm about her waist to pull her closer. She thought he was going to kiss her, but instead, he nuzzled her and whispered, “There is one more thing I wished to ask you.”

“What is it?”

He pulled back, and lifted the velvet from the ring box. Beneath it, sat the small dragonfly charm she’d given him. He carefully plucked it from the box and let it come to rest in his palm, where it looked comical small nestled in his enormous hand. “I know you only recently discovered you are part dwarf, so I know you probably do not know our courtship custom. If you were full dwarf, I would have given you something to braid into your hair to signify the seriousness of our relationship. And you would have done the same for me. So, would you do me the honor of braiding this into my hair?”

She looked first at the charm, then up at him. “What?”

“Dwarves place a high store in our hair, our beards, and no one touches them. Ever. Unless that person is one a dwarf knows he or she can trust above all others. Especially a bashert.” He smiled, taking her hand to turn it palm up, and carefully spilled the charm into her palm. “And I would be honored to have you braid this into my hair, where it will remain for the rest of my days as a symbol of my trust in you and my faithfulness.”

Her eyes stung with unexpected tears at the softly serious tone of his voice. “I—I thought you didn’t like it, that you didn’t understand why I’d given it to you.”

“No, love,” he shook his head, “I absolutely understood and I need you to understand how serious this moment is for me. Because this is as serious, perhaps even more serious, than the vow I will take when we are married.”

She pressed her lips together for a moment to try to stop them from quivering. When then, when she thought she could trust them, she whispered, “Where would you like me to braid it?”

“Wherever you wish.”

“Here?” She swept her fingers lightly along a thick wave of dark hair just before his right ear.

“There is fine, if you’re certain that’s where you wish it. Remember, I will not remove it.”

She nodded. “Here, then.”

He drew a small strip of leather from the box and held it while she carefully sectioned, then went to work braiding the charm into his hair. He remained perfectly still, while her hands actually trembled. He might not realize it, but she absolutely did understand the significance of the moment, and as she plaited, he said, “Do you remember the conversation we had earlier, by the fountain, about your fear that I compare you to other women?”

She paused in her braiding. “Of course. It was only a few hours ago. Why?”

“I bring it up because you were so concerned that I would do just that, that I'd been with all of these women who were far more memorable or whatever you thought. Your concern was that I was your first, but you were not mine.”

“You needn’t remind me, you know.”

“I’m not trying to and it will make sense in but a moment. Now, I cannot undo the past, or anyone who might have been in it, but you need to know the serious of this moment right now. For it is a serious moment.”

She carefully separated the thick hank of his hair she held into three sections and went to work braiding the charm into it. “How so?”

“Yes. No woman has ever braided anything into my hair. Just you." He turned slightly and she had to tighten her hand about the braid to keep it from slipping from her grip. His eyes softened as he added, "This is far more momentous, you should know.”

“I find that rather difficult to believe.” She eased the charm into the plait.

“Why? I just told you, this is something sacred to us. You can sleep with someone and not trust them, not even like them all that much, but this? This does not happen with someone you neither trust nor like.” He faced forward again. “Given the choice between giving you my virginity or giving you this moment, I would give you this one over again.”

“You would?” She took the small strip of leather from him to wind into the braid and used it to tie off the end.

“I would.” He caught her by the wrist to draw her around, into his arms. “While I do remember the first time, it was memorable only for the fact it was the first time. I was clumsy. Not particularly adept. Not particularly generous, either. It was over in a matter of seconds as well. And she wasn't the love of my life. I didn't even think so at the time. She was the means to an end and nothing more.”

As he spoke, he grazed her hands with his thumbs, his eyes never leaving hers. “But you, Seren, are everything to me. And you never need worry that my mind is elsewhere when I am with you, for it never is. And you never need worry that I find you lacking in any way, for I never will. You are my today, my tomorrow, my forever.”

She didn’t know what to say, and so slid her arms about his neck and tugged him to meet her kiss. As their lips touched, she whispered, “I do love you, Thorin. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.”

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Everybody Lives AU

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anon-e-miss · 4 years

Note

“I hit my head; now I don’t feel so good.” With Jazzprowl sparkling!Bluestreak and Two-bit?

Prowl took the comm in the kitchen. Bluestreak was an agreeable sparkling but like any mechling or femmeling his age he was prone to getting into mischief when the mood struck him, and Prowl did not dare hole himself in the berthroom when Bluestreak was colouring in the livingroom. What had once been Prowl’s home office was slowly morphing into a nursery. Bluestreak’s little brother was coming along nicely, Prowl thought as he rested his servo on his forge. Having entered the final quadrimester of his second carrying, Prowl was on modified duties, and not especially pleased about it.

He had been all but banished from his office, expected to telecommute when his immediately involvement was necessary. Otherwise he reviewed tactics, and fulfilled his other duties from his habsuite, usually from the coach. Ultra Magnus was serving as Prime’s Second in his place and Prowl wondered if this was part of what had his hackles up. It had shocked him when Optimus Prime had named his Second, and in all the vorns after Prowl had never fully been convinced that the Prime would not turn around and change his processor. Imposter syndrome, was what Jazz called it. Except Prowl did not feel like an imposter, he knew he was capable, but he as he had never stopped having to fight to have his strategies implemented or new regulations put into place, Prowl was not convinced Optimus really thought he was capable. Maybe there would be no position left for him once this one was ready to be without him. That was vorns away.

Over the comm Trailbreaker explained his concern with the plan they had been presented with. This was a common habit of the generals. They would decide upon an objective and then decide upon how they were going to accomplish the task, and they would submit this to Tactics, ignoring the fact that it was the Tactical Division who were meant to take the objectives and the data and formulate a winning strategy. Prowl was convinced they thought of Tactics as nothing room of rubber stampers. They were wrong, and Prowl had made it very much clear from the beginning that he was not an obedient cog, but with his restricted duties they were testing their limits.

He was going to have to disabuse them of these notions once again. Prowl confirmed Trailbreaker’s analysis of the generals’ plan, that it was junk, and directed him to connect with Special Ops to get a better feel for the target. The generals would call Prowl cowardly, hesitant and soft. At least the last complaint would get them laughed at. There was a thump from the living room. He froze and his spark was in his throat when he heard Two Bit make a low whine. Without explanation, he ended the call with Trailbreaker. Prowl ran, such as he could, into the livingroom and found Bluestreak sitting on the floor amongst a pile of... chairs, boxes. Two Bit’s treat canister was on the floor next to him, the treats spilled out over the floor. It had been on the top shelf of the storage unit, the last place in the habsuite neither the cyber dog nor the mechling could reach. His gluttonous hound did not touch the bounty of treats but whine as he hovered next to Bluestreak.

“Bluestreak,” Prowl rasped his creation’s designation.

“I hit my head, Ori,” Bluestreak whimpered as Prowl knelt next to him. “Now I don’t feel so good.”

“Let me see, sweetspark.”

There was a dent on his helm, just beside his audio. It was just a little dent, probably nothing at all. Bluestreak suddenly purged and Prowl jolted. This could be bad. This could be terrible. He commed for EMS. There was no debate about the wisdom or lack thereof of running Bluestreak over the the medbay himself. He could no longer transform, his T-cog was offline at this stage of his carrying, and on his own two peds he could hardly do more than waddle at a snail’s pace. Prowl had no choice was to wait for help to come. As he did, he cradled Bluestreak, and wiped him clean. He tried not to think of the worst case scenario but of course that was all he could think about. Though he fought to keep himself calm, Prowl kept his tone even as he calmed his distressed creation. In this moment, all he wanted was Jazz. But Jazz was not due back from Simfur for two mega-cycles. He was out of comm range... but maybe. Prowl entered Hound’s comm id and sent and urgent ping.

“What do you need, Prowl?” Hound asked, linking their comms within nanokliks of Prowl’s ping. Jazz had asked him to take care of Prowl and Bluestreak while he was on this mission. Prowl had scoffed at the notion.

“Bluestreak hurt his helm. He is purging. Can you reach Jazz?”

“I’ll be right on it. Do you need someone to meet you in the medbay?”

“I just need Jazz.”

EMS came and they transported Bluestreak to the medbay, with Prowl riding along with him. Two Bit howled as they left him locked in the habsuite but the transport was not big enough to fit all of them, and Prowl could not possibly send his bitlet off alone just so he could follow on ped with Two Bit. Prowl soothed Bluestreak as he purged again. His optics were hazy, his speech was becoming slurred and Prowl was terrified. The paramedics rushed Bluestreak to Ratchet who was already waiting. After only one pass of his scanner’s Ratchet began barking orders, demanding the OR be prepped.

“He has a processor bleed and it’s threatening a short,” Ratchet explained. “I’m taking him straight to surgery.”

“Please,” Prowl moaned. Please what? Please save him? Please don’t take him away.

“I’ll take care of him,” the medic said, gruffly.

First Aid and Fix It appeared and took the stretcher bearing Bluestreak and began to race him down the hall. Prowl shuddered. They had not given him the chance to even kiss him goodbye.

“Prowl.” Ratchet snapped. He sounded almost a world away thought they were face to face. Prowl wobbled, and stumbled back. Someone caught him, something stopped him. The next thing Prowl knew he was in a chair. Ratchet crouched in front of him. His scanners tingled over Prowl’s frame. “Prowl!”

“Why are you still here?” Prowl asked. He felt a peculiar madness overwhelming him as his question came our as a foreign, hysterical shriek.

“How far apart are they, Prowl?”

“What?” His processor ground to a halt.

“How far apart are your contractions?”

#maccadams #anon-e-miss writes #tf prowl #tf jazz #tf bluestreak #two bit #kid!fic

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 5 years

Text

A Twist of Fate ch.34 -Heartbeats

The Elementalist au

Beckett x MC (Oriana)

Words: 2182

Warnings: NSFW

Series Master List

Complete Master List

This AU is set after everyone graduates Penderghast, and Beckett and Oriana were never friends. Fate, however, may have a different plan for them.

Arriving home, Beckett and Oriana walked up the stairs to the house, Beckett unlocking the door and pushing it open. Oriana moved to go inside, but he grabbed her arm gently, turning her back to him.

“You don’t really think I’m just going to let you walk into this house, do you?” He asked slyly.

She rose an eyebrow. “Um…what else would I do?”

In a swift movement Beckett had swept her off her feet, so she was in his arms bridal style. She shrieked in delight.

“Let your husband carry you over the threshold, of course.” Walking though the door he quickly turned and kicked it shut before setting her down.

She grinned up at him, her arms still wrapped around his neck, his arms wrapped around her waist and keeping her flush against him. He brushed his lips against hers, enjoying her sweetness. Soon though, all gentleness wore away, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d backed her against the door, kissing her hard, a fire igniting between. She moaned softly as he bit down on her lip, taking it carefully between his teeth.

Breaking apart, his eyes travelled down her front, admiring her cleavage that was barely visible with the plunging neckline of her dress. “Your dress is magnificent.” He murmured, playing with the fabric as he lifted her skirt while his hand skimmed along her upper thigh. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I thought you’d like it.” She responded breathlessly, arching into him as his fingers dug into her waist.

“When did you have time to get it?” He nibbled her earlobe.

“I got it at the same time as the yellow one. I’ve never worn it before, and although I didn’t buy it with the intention of it being my wedding dress…I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

She palmed him through his pants and he groaned at the sensation, feeling tight and a need for release. Oriana reached both her hands between them and unbuckled his belt, then unzipped his pants, pushing them past his hips as she took his length in her hand. He captured her mouth with his own, thrusting into her palm as she moved along his shaft, going faster and faster before he realized he was on the brink of exploding. He quickly stopped her hand.

“Not yet.” He whispered hoarsely. “Ori….

“Fuck me here, Beckett. I don’t want to wait another second to feel you inside me.”

She kissed along his neck, which was a move she knew drove him crazy. “Fuck me in my wedding dress.” Her voice reverberated on his skin, and he was done for. He quickly removed her white lace panties, gripped her ass and lifted her into his arms. She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist and a second later he thrust deep and hard into her.

“Ori…oh you feel good…”

“Oh god , Beck, yes, yesssssss….”

Both were panting, stealing kisses in between breaths. He was holding her fully against their front door, keeping her weight balanced easily. He was fucking her hard now, biting down her shoulder and sucking her skin into his mouth. He wanted to leave his mark on her, claim her as his own. Faster and faster he went, bringing his lips back to hers as she bounced on his cock. He had full control of her body and he loved it so much.

“Ori…tell me you’re my…tell me you’re…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence, he was so full of pleasure.

“You’re wife?” She guessed.

He grunted, picking up his pace as she murmured… “I’m your wife…your bride…You’re my husband…I love you….”

With a guttural groan he came hard, pumping her full of his seed, her lower lips squeezing every drop from him. Finally, he slid out of her, her feet firmly back on the floor. Looking into her eyes, he was met with amusement.

“What’s so funny” He demanded.

Oriana smirked. “So…remember when we were first a couple, and we were having sex, and you asked me to call you my boyfriend and then you came instantly? I adore how it’s the same with term of wife.”

Beckett turned bright red. “I…it’s just…I mean…”

“And you stammering about it is even more adorable.” She laughed.

“Is that so?” He growled. “Then I guess you like it as much as I do. Which is good, because I’m going to need you screaming it all afternoon…and all night.”

Oriana’s phone started ringing.

“Don’t even think about answering that.” Beckett told her. “You’re all mine the rest of the day. We agreed.” He pulled her phone out from her purse to silence it, but paused as he read the screen. “Dr. Navario?”

“My gyno!” Oriana yanked the phone from his grip. “Hello?” She paused. “Yes! Yes, absolutely, that’s great! See you soon!”

She hung up, grinning at Beckett. “She had a cancellation this afternoon and wants to take us in for an ultrasound, instead of waiting a few days!”

“R-really?” Beckett gasped.

“Yes! It’s in an hour, so unfortunately…you’re going to have to share me this afternoon after all.” She joked.

Beckett’s eyes widened. “Oh my god! We have to leave! Do you want to change? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Need to use the bathroom?”

“Beck, stop, stop. It doesn’t take an hour to get there, first of all. Second…yes, I can eat and I should drink plenty since they recommend having a full bladder for the ultrasound.”

He frowned. “Why? That sounds uncomfortable.”

Oriana just shrugged. “Helps them see better I guess.” She gently pressed her lips to Beckett’s, who deepened the kiss before nipping at her neck and collar-bone.

“I’ll make an exception for our baby.” He murmured. “But then you’re mine, and I’m yours for the rest of the day.”

“Mmmmm deal.” She moaned as he pressed himself against her, letting her know he was already hard again.

“Keep making those noises, and I’m going to take that back.” He warned.

Oriana chuckled lightly. “Alright tiger. Let’s get ready then.”

An hour and a half later, the newlyweds were sitting in a doctors office nervously, waiting on the ultrasound tech to come in. After another moment, the door opened and a woman greeted them with a warm smile.

“I’m Brenna, I’ll be performing your ultra-sound today. Once we’ve wrapped up, Dr. Navario will come in and go over the results with you. As we go along I’ll point out a few things to you as well. Is this your first?”

“It is.” Beckett confirmed.

“We’re not even positive I’m pregnant…” Oriana started.

“Yes we are.” Beckett countered.

Oriana rolled her eyes. “He is, I’m not.”

Brenna grinned. “I see. Well, let’s put that question to bed, shall we? Now, I’ve warmed up the gel, so it should be comfortable for you. I’m going to press down fairly hard to make sure we get a good visual, and it may be slightly uncomfortable. Once we’re done, you’ll be off for your urine sample and those results are instantaneous, so your doctor can have all the information needed when she comes in. Sound good?”

“Yes.” Oriana whispered.

Beckett met her eyes, noticing the fear in them. He took her hand. “Everything’s okay.” He soothed. “We’re in this together.”

She took a deep breath and nodded, as the technician pressed down onto her lower abdomen. Oriana winced.

“Does it have to be that hard? It’s too hard for her.” Beckett worried.

“It’s really just because I have to pee so bad.” Oriana tried to laugh, but failed.

“It’s not hurting the baby?” Beckett asked nervously.

“Not at all. In fact…” Brenna projected the screen of her machine onto a television in front of them.

“Is that…what is that?”

“You’re 8 weeks along. Congratulations.”

Both Beckett and Oriana were staring at the screen in awe as Brenna continued. “This dark area is the amniotic sac, that protects the baby, and this here…” She highlighted part of the screen. “This is the fetus.”

Oriana covered her mouth with her free hand, tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh my god.” She breathed. “I…I really am…”

“You really are.” Beckett grinned. “We’re pregnant!”

“At 8 weeks, the fetus is about the size of a raspberry.” Brenna continued taking some measurements, assuring them that everything she was looking at were standard ultrasound procedure.

“What’s that blip?” Beckett asked, pointing to the screen.

“Is…is it supposed to blinking like that?” Oriana chimed in, her heart racing.

“That…is my favorite part, actually. And I bet it will be yours too. Are you ready to hear the heartbeat?” The technician asked.

“The…the…heart…” Before Oriana could finish her thought, a fast bumping sound filled the room, which Beckett instantly recognized.

“It sounds exactly like what I heard over the weekend.” He said absent-mindedly, meeting Oriana’s eyes. “That’s what I heard. The heart…I can’t believe it.”

“It’s not possible to hear it outside the womb.” Brenna spoke again. “I’m afraid whatever you heard couldn’t possibly have been the heartbeat.”

“Oh, uh, right.” Beckett ran a hand through his hair, thankful the room was dark so his blush was hidden.

“Well, that’s it. Here’s a printout…” Brenna handed them a black and white copy of the best picture of the exam. “And here is a thumb-drive, this has all the images and videos on it, as well as the clip of the heartbeat.”

“It’s so adorable.” Oriana mused. “A teddy bear thumb-drive…it’s too cute.”

“You’ll want to bring it every time you come.” Brenna informed. “This way we can keep adding to it and it will be a wonderful keepsake at the end of the pregnancy. Now, Oriana, we need to get your urine sample, and then the doctor will be right in. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Oriana followed her out of the room as Beckett stared at the black and white picture of their unborn child. Tracing his fingers over it he murmured. “I love you already, my little raspberry. You are going to be so loved.”

After Dr. Navario went over the results with them, assuring the young couple that everything looked perfect so far, Beckett and Oriana finally went back home. Collapsing on the couch, Oriana leaned her head against Beckett’s shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her and kissing the top of her head.

“We’re having a baby.” Oriana whispered.

Beckett’s heart surged with love. “This is officially the best day of my life. Not only did I marry you…we saw our child for the first time.”

“How incredible was that heartbeat?” Oriana agreed. “God, it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever heard. You said you heard it before?”

“I did.” He said softly. “Just for a second. Just long enough so I knew you were pregnant.”

“That’s how you knew? Not because I felt sick a lot?”

“The sickness helped, sure, but…I heard it, I heard our baby when it was impossible for me to have. I didn’t want to freak you out more than you already were, but that’s how I was completely positive.”

“Wow.” She murmured.

“Are you excited?” He asked hesitantly.

“I’m excited that you’re excited.”

“Ori…” He hooked his finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. “You have no idea how excited I am. But…whatever you want to do about this, I’ll support.”

She looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“I know you haven’t exactly wanted this, I know it terrifies you. And that’s okay, I’m here to help you through it. But if you don’t want to go through it then…”

“Of course I do.” She interrupted. “Beck, this…we made this out of love. It’s amazing. And yeah, I’m still scared but…you ground me in a way no one ever has, and I know you’ll continue to do so. I want this baby. Your baby.”

“Are you sure?” His heart was beating faster.

“Absolutely.” She smiled, and now his heart soared. He kissed her fiercely, conveying his emotions through this one touch.

Finally breaking apart, he chuckled. “You know…eight weeks…”

“Yeah?”

He looked at her slyly. “That means I must have gotten you pregnant when we first started sleeping together. Probably within that first weekend. I’m not surprised that I would excel in that area as well.”

Oriana burst out laughing. “You are so full of yourself!”

He shrugged. “It’s warranted. I’m nothing if not an over-achiever. If I hadn’t already gotten you pregnant, you better believe I’d be working hard to make you that way right now.”

“Is that right?” Her eyes sparkled.

“Most definitely.” He assured.

“We could just…pretend that I’m not pregnant, and you can show me all the moves you’d make to get me that way.” She teased, watching the tips of his ears turn crimson.

“Ori…” His eyes fell to her mouth as she licked her lips. “I don’t need to pretend anything. All I want to do right now is make you scream how I’m your husband. All I need is you. Always.”

“Always.” Oriana whispered in agreeance, before falling into a deep, passionate kiss.

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lockedloki · 5 years

Text

The Company wishing you happy birthday and the gifts they'd give you:

(Happy birthday again Meg! @reaperswritings )

Thorin gave you a handcrafted necklace of sapphires he made himself (he's very proud, not that he'll show it...)

Fíli (bless his heart) decided to give you a mithril knife he smithed under guidance of Thorin. Its handle was inlaid with 3 pearls, one for each of the lights in his life: the sun, the moon, and you.

Kíli got you a puppy that looked like an alcoholic in need of a shave! (She was a feisty little one, but the love in her heart when she cuddled with you in front of the fire made up for the torn towels and wet hair she had so graciously caused you in your chase through the royal wing after an attempted bath...) Kíli tried ("tried" being the operative word), to bake you a cake, but, well, Kíli in a kitchen went about as well as a bull in a china store...

Balin (sweet, sweet saint) gifted you a cut and polished geode with quartz lining it. It was one of the few things he still had left of the old Erebor, and wanted you to have it, seeing as you held as an special place in his heart as that geode.

Dwalin had smithed alongside Thorin in the past, and thought of making a axe for you with the name "Courage" engraved on the handle, but seeing that you will have nothing to fear with the Company protecting you (bunch of nannies, they are), he instead opted to build you your very own garden inside the mountain for when the winter months came. He planted all of your favourite flowers, and boy oh boy, did he nearly give up a few time on working on that garden... But in the end, he pulled through and he must say that all the frustration was worth the joy in your eyes and the hug he got from you afterwards he showed it to you. (He might have developed a liking to gardening, so it wasn't uncommon to find him working alongside you on hands and knees in your garden covered in dirt)

Oín decided that you were entirely too quiet for his tastes and that it was only by luck alone that you haven't given some of the dwarves a heart attack, (he has suffered more than his share, according to him), so he bought you cute little golden bell to wear around your neck so people mostly he could hear you coming (he didn't. And he shrieked like a girl when you both had ventured down into the kitchens for a midnight snack)

Gloín had a secret talent of painting, and no one, no one outside the family knows of it... Guess what he gave to you? :) A magnificent painting of the view from the top of the Lonely Mountain over Daleb Laketown and even a tiny, teensy weensy, might-miss-it, smidge which could possibly be Mirkwood? He won't admit anything.... (I'm onto you, Mister Gloín)

Dori bought you a delicate porcelain tea set from the Blue Mountains, in which he claims tea tastes the best... Uh huh, we'll see honey, we'll see...

Nori, Nori, Nori, Nori..... He thought it would be very funny to give you a chicken. In the marketplace. Among a hundreds of dwarves. And he thought it would be funny watching you scream your head off at the creature suddenly deposited into your arms. Jokes on him though, he had to chase and catch the feathery fiend in the market! (You named the hen "Dori" after he had caught her and you had calmed down enough to see straight...)

Ori (my sweet, sweet summer child), had filled an entire sketchbook with drawings of you and the company (but mostly you.) (He was so shy when he had presented you with the carefully wrapped gift. My he ar t)

Bifur had an immense soft spot for cute things, and the image of you animatedly performing enacting and reading a fairytale to some dwarflings made up his mind. He was going to make you a stage to entertain those dear dwarflings you so loved. He worked, he sewed, he carved, he- well, you get the idea. It was magnificent! And he hit two birds with one stone! You got to live out your passion for making others smile, and he got to see you perform frequently!

Bofur thought that seeing as you frequently stole his hat and made him chase you all over the Company's wing, that maybe, just maybe he could finally take off his hat without fear for your escapades (I'm only trying to keep you fit! Yeah right, and his mother was an elf.), if he got you your own hat. And it worked! For about three days, before you returned to your nefarious hat-stealing, dwarf-parkour activities...

Bombur (he looks very huggable) had a specially embroidered apron made for you. (Bofur had suggested "World's Best Buns," but from the look on his brother's face he collapsed in a giggling fit.) No no, Bombur was a gentleman, thank you very much. So what did he have embroidered??? Keep your hands off my buns😀

Bilbo gave you a bouquet of tulips (how did he even get them???), and a handwritten book titled "450 Reasons Why I Love You." (My HeARt!) (And it's alphabetical too!)

Gandalf.... Gandalf decided to gift you with a puzzle box ("A gift that keeps on giving.") And boy oh boy did he look smug after the 4th hour you still hadn't found out how to open it.... Ahah, just you wait, Mister Firepopper, revenge might be beneath me, but accidents will happen....

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tk-writer · 5 years

Note

So if you're taking any requests at the moment.... is it okay to request for some Kaimatsu? I've discovered that I low-key ship them lately, and seeing two dominant personalities trying to out-tickle each other is giving me life hhhhh

HELL YEAH ITS OK WE STAN FOR KAIMATSU ON THIS BLOG!!!!

~~~

It was bedtime. The day had been long for both of them, so by the time 9:00 rolled around Kaede and Kaito were snuggled up together on their king sized bed. Kaede rested her head on his chest, listening to his steady breathing as he drifted in and out of consciousness. When she thought he wasn’t paying attention, she snaked one hand under his nightshirt and started tracing small circles on his skin.

“Mmmph,” Kaito grumbled, twitching ever so slightly at her touch. “You’re more feely than usual tonight.”

Kaede smiled innocently, dancing her fingers down his side. “Just testing a theory.” She grazed her nails across his stomach and giggled when he flinched.

“And what the-EEE!-ory is tha-hahaha-t?” Kaito spat out between stifled giggles.

“The theory that you’re wayyyy more ticklish than me.”

In a flash she was straddling him, spidering her long nails all over his stomach and sides. Caught completely off guard, Kaito squirmed like a snake and howled with laughter. He grabbed her hands and pushed her off, now pinning her beneath his weight.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said with a smirk, sizing up his already giggling girlfriend. “You picked a tickle fight with the wrong guy.”

“Eeheehee, Kaitooooo! AHAHAHAHAHA!”

Kaede was no match against his expert hands and was quickly reduced to high pitched squeals and frantic shrieking. He held both wrists with on hand and scribbled the other under her arms, which he knew was one of her worst spots. He reveled in the sound of her melodic laughter, which reminded him of the upbeat piano songs she liked to play and was one of the reasons he fell for her.

He showed no mercy for those long minutes, poking into her ribs and waist as if searching for a specific reaction, and he found it when one finger accidentally fluttered into her bellybutton. He lingered there for just a moment, watching with glee as she twisted her body in all directions attempting to escape, then he finally let go.

Utterly exhausted and out of breath, Kaede silently admitted defeat. Kaito leaned down and kissed her forehead, then wrapped her in his arms as if she was the most precious thing on earth.

“I win,” he groaned before finally passing out.

She returned the kiss, gently pecking his cheek, and almost immediately followed suit.

#danganronpa #ndrv3 #dribble drabble #tickling #kaimatsu #lee!kaede #ler!kaede #lee!kaito #ler!kaito #one of my fave rarepairs evervrvvevevrvrr jkhffaksjhfskfj #i'm glad there are others out there like meeeee

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oraclesoftime · 5 years

Text

Futures Known But Unspoken

CHAPTER 31 Traversing Mirkwood The company finally lead their steeds over to the dense woods, Gandalf dismounting first. As the wizard approached the forest everyone followed his lead, Lane sliding off of their horse before helping Belle off and onto solid ground. “It’s so… creepy looking…” Belle claimed, a shiver running down her spine. “Spiders,” Lane whispered right next to her ear. Belle let out a loud scream and swung around to swat her friend on the shoulder, Lane letting out a round of laughter despite the slight pain. “Here lies our path through Mirkwood!” Gandalf called out from the trees.“No sign of the orcs, we have luck on our side,” Dwalin hummed, as he too dismounted his pony. Belle and Lane, having finished their swatting war, exchanged knowing looks before casting their eyes over to the nearby rock hill, a great black bear reaching the top and swiveling its head around as if searching for something. “Set the ponies loose, let them return to their master,” Gandalf called out.“This forest feels… sick, as if a disease lies upon it,” Bilbo spoke, walking up so that he stood between Belle and Lane. “Is there no way around?” “Not unless we go two hundred miles north. Or twice that distance south,” the wizard sighed, finally walking through the elven gate. Bilbo gave a small sigh, Belle reaching down to pat him on the shoulder in comfort, the hobbit giving her a thankful smile and nod.The dwarves and Bilbo moved to begin taking their things off of the ponies, Lane and Belle standing by the gate to watch as Gandalf slowly walked deeper and deeper into the wood. “You think that if we just untether his horse then he can’t ditch us?” Lane hummed. “We can’t do that, he has to go to the crypt and see for himself that the Ringwraiths aren’t there,” Belle hissed, keeping her voice down so that none of the others could hear them. “We could always just tell him. ‘Yo, Gandalf. Just an FYI to tell your elf lady friend, Sauron is back and Azog’s in league with him. You may want to look into that’,” Lane suggested, looking down at her friend out of the corner of her eye. Belle gave Lane a scolding look causing the taller to roll her eyes. “You’re such a fucking killjoy, what good is being an Oracle if we can’t give people a heads up?” “Not my horse! I need it!” Gandalf suddenly called out, quickly making his way back over to them. “You’re not leaving us…” Bilbo said, disbelief in his voice. “Blame Izz,” Lane grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. The smaller woman glared up at her friend and elbowed her in the ribs, Lane letting out a small yelp and rubbing her side with a pout. “I’ll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe,” Gandalf called out. “Do not enter that mountain without me.” “Wow deja vu. Frodo? Prancing Pony? No show? Is any of this ringing any bells?” Lane scoffed under her breath. “Lane!” Belle hissed. “What? It’s true!” “This is not the Greenwood of old! The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion, it will seek to enter your mind, lead you astray,” Gandalf claimed. “Lead us astray? What does that mean?” Bilbo asked, looking over at the two women. “You must stay on the path, do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again,” Gandalf continued. He casted his gaze over to the two women. “I trust their fate in your hands young Oracles, help them to stay on track.” Lane and Belle nodded as Gandalf turned his steed in the opposite direction and rode off. “C’mon! We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin’s day,” Thorin began, walking towards the front of the group. “This is our one chance to find the hidden door!” The dwarf lord paused as he came to stand beside Lane and Belle, sighing and looking up at them. “Lead the way, our fates are in your hands,” he said. Lane and Belle both gave him a slightly baffled look before turning to each other. Deciding not to make a big fuss about Thorin finally choosing to trust them, Lane and Belle lead the charge into the mangled forest, the others right behind them, Lane drawing her sword as she walked a few feet ahead of Belle. Using her blade much like a blindman’s stick, Lane continuously tapped the tip on the ground in front of her, keeping her ears zeroed in on the noise that the path made and listening for any differences telling her that they were beginning to stray. “Is the tapping really necessary?” Dori groaned from near the middle of the group. “It’s hurting my head.” “If you doubt my leading capabilities then by all means, you first Dori,” Lane scoffed, turning around slightly to glare back at him. “All of you quiet!” Thorin growled, glaring at the grumbling dwarves as well. “Lead on.” Lane couldn’t help but feel touched that Thorin had actually defended her, a small smile spreading across her lips as she turned back to the road and continued to lead and tap away on the brick. With Lane tapping away at the front of the group, the company managed to stay on track, Belle occasionally casting a look back at the others to make sure that none of them had wandered off. Though both women knew that in the movie at some point the dwarves lost the path, they didn’t have any idea about a time frame in which it happened. Belle gave a small sigh and rubbed her arms as the hairs began to stand on end; the forest was creeping her out now more than before and it was making her antsy. When she felt a small tingle on her arm, she brushed her hand over it only to feel the same sensation once again. With a small huff, she turned her head and lifted her arm, only to come face to face with a small grey spider about the size of her thumbnail Letting out a loud scream, Belle waved her arm around frantically and brushed her hand across it in an attempt to throw her hitchhiker off. “Oi! Come here you drama queen!” Lane barked, quickly grabbing Belle by the collar of her tunic and pulling her back towards the group. Before Belle could utter a single word, Lane reached around her and swatted the spider off of her friend’s arm. Belle’s knees continued to knock against each other for a few moments while Lane patted her shoulder. “Boris is gone Izz, you can stop convulsing now,” the taller woman chuckled. “To let out a shriek over something so small as a common spider,” Nori snickered. “If you hadn’t been at the front of the group we’d have thought you were being attacked by orcs,” Kíli agreed. The other dwarves all let out a round of laughter as Lane rolled her eyes and began to lead the way through the woods again, Belle quickly grumbling and catching up to her. “Mock me for my fear of spiders. Oh don’t worry; you’ll get yours,” the smaller woman growled, crossing her arms over her chest as she pouted. Lane let out a chuckle from beside her and loosely wrapped her arm across Belle’s shoulders, continuing to tap on the ground with her sword. -=- “We should make camp before it gets any darker,” Lane claimed, stopping and looking up into the trees. The others nodded and began to make camp right on the path, not wanting to risk losing it in the darkness of the night. “Dori-” “I’ll take first watch,” Belle suddenly offered. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep much here anyways so I might as well do something productive…” “You stand watch? Is the air getting to you already?” Lane snickered. Belle huffed and walked over to the edge of their camp and sat on a nearby log as Gloin and Bombur began the task of creating the fire. “But no, seriously, are you sick?” Lane asked, walking over and giving her friend a weird look. “I’d rather them battle ready...” Belle stated planting her butt on a log to see in all directions, “Then have them half asleep and become chow for the creatures of Mirkwood.” Lane tried to hold back a laugh, “What could you do if we were attacked?” “I know how to scream,” Belle stated glaring at Lane, “I will and can give good warning...So...sleep, please.” Lane sighed and shook her head, taking her pack off of her back and making her bedroll right at Belle’s side before hunkering down into it. “And we have fire~!” Bombur hummed. The moment the blaze was bright enough for the dwarves liking however, a loud screeching came from the woods. Before any of them could blink, a hoard of black wings flew out from the trees, everyone letting out either rounds of yells or screams. “What are these things!?” Bilbo gasped as he covered his head in fear. “Moths!” Belle squeaked, managing to catch a glimpse of their “attackers” through her arms. “They’re attracted to the light! Put out the damned fire!” Lane hollered from inside her bedroll. Dwalin quickly dashed through the hoard of black wings and stomped the blaze out, the moths almost instantly fluttering away as the company was thrust into the absolute dark of the night. “Well… so much for keeping watch; I can’t even see my hand in front of my face,” Belle sighed, waving the appendage around in the dark. “You may not be able to see, but keep your ears open lass,” Balin’s voice sighed. “Everyone get some rest, we head out again at sunrise,” Thorin’s voice called out. “Provided we can see the sun rising…” Ori whimpered. Belle shifted around on her log for a bit until she found a somewhat comfortable spot, the camp soon being engulfed in soft snores. Just as she had predicted, she could feel the fatigue slowly creeping up on her as the hours passed on, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep like her friends. Belle yawned and she heard one of the dwarves stirring in their spot. “Has no one switched with you, My Lady?” Kíli’s voice suddenly whispered. Belle shook her head before remembering that he couldn’t see her doing so. “I didn’t want to bother anyone…” “How long have you been watching?” Kíli asked, a few more rustles sounding from his direction. “A while,” Belle hummed, unsure of how long it had really been exactly. “Everyone looked so tired…” There was some more shuffling before Belle could hear him slowly making his way over to her and carefully sitting next to her on the log. “You should sleep then, Lady Isabella.” “I want to,” Belle sighed. “But I feel uneasy, which makes it hard to sleep…” “Uneasy about what?” Kíli asked. “About a lot of stuff I suppose,” Belle stated, rubbing at her face. “Middle Earth is full of dangerous things; you never know what’s waiting around the next corner.” “You do…” Kíli hummed. “The both of you.” “I suppose I do for most things…” Belle sighed. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t frighten me...Knowing or not knowing doesn’t really matter to me because at the end of everything I worry about those around me.” “Have you always worried about others?” Belle smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah, I do. I worry a bit too much at times. It can be rather annoying for most people, I don’t mean for it to… but it happens. It drives Lane absolutely nuts most days.” “Our Champion? Annoyed with you? Never,” Kíli snickered in the dark. “Has she actually told you this though? In her own words?” “She has maybe once or twice, but I think that’s how she shows she loves me,” Belle hummed, fiddling with the edge of her tunic. “We’ve been through a lot… I think she understands how much I care about her and that I will do what I can to protect her…” “How will you protect her?” “By staying by her side and looking out for her in the ways I can,” Belle stated. “I don’t have any real combat training aside from what you’ve taught me… but I know how to listen or at least hold someone’s hand if they need it.” “You harbor a large heart full of love,” Kíli hummed. “Do you show this type of dedication to any others, or is she just special?” “I show love and kindness to my friends yes…” Belle paused to look up above her, despite not able to see anything but black. “Where I’m from… I was the mother of my group of friends… I scolded them jokingly, lent an ear when they needed it, a hug or two or shoulder to cry on… It was a joke, but I liked it; it felt like one big happy family even if those around me were younger and older. Lane… She’s older than me, so I’m surprised she puts up with me as much as she does…” “She’s like an older sister,” Kíli pointed out. “Looks after you, picks on you, gets you in and out of trouble…” Belle smiled, turning to where she believed Kíli was sitting beside her. “Yes, exactly.” “Trust me, My Lady, I understand that feeling all too well,” Kíli chuckled. “I guess in a sense we’re both the babies of the family then, huh?” Belle laughed quietly, careful not to wake the others. “Well if that’s the case, then we babes need to watch over each other,” Kíli chuckled. The two entered a comfortable silence and at some point Belle fell asleep. When she opened her eyes several hours later, she found herself lying beside Lane on her own bedroll, her arms clamped around her friend’s left. Just as she was about to release the taller woman’s arm, Lane shifted in her sleep and turned her head to look over at her. “Aww, what a way to ruin a morning, having to look at your ugly mug first thing,” Lane groaned, a playful smirk stretching across her lips. Belle gave the woman a glare and reached up to swat her shoulder, Lane letting out a sleepy chuckle before pushing herself into a sitting position. “Good morning Champion, quite the hair you’ve got there,” Kíli greeted from beside them, smoking his pipe with a smirk. “You’re just jealous that my hair’s better than yours Kíli, get over yourself,” Lane teased, looking up at him with a corny grin. “Your hair? Better than mine? That’s preposterous!” Kíli scoffed, playing along. “Everyone knows that I have the nicest hair!” A smarmy grin quickly spread across the brunette prince’s features as the taller woman rubbed at her eyes in a further attempt to wake herself up. “Then again, I’m sure you prefer locks of gold~” Lane lifted a hand from her face to give Kíli a confused look coupled with raised eyebrow. “Ooooo, you’ve been found~♪” Belle sang quietly with a laugh. “I think the air is getting to you two...” Lane yawned, as she ran a hand through her messy hair. Belle and Kíli exchanged knowing looks and simply snickered, Lane grumbling under her breath about being surrounded by ‘fucking loons’. The other dwarves slowly stirred and rose from their sleep. After having a minuscule meal in order to ration what food they had left, everyone packed up and began the trek through the forest, Lane and Belle leading the way once again. Lane felt like someone was staring at her, turning her head to see Belle grinning up at her. “What are you grinning about?” Lane asked, suspicion in her tone. “Oh nothing,” Belle giggled, grin still stretched across her lips. “And everything… You know I love you right?” “Is the air seriously not getting to you?” Lane asked sounding a bit weirded out. “Because if it is you need to tell me so that I can tie your wrist around mine or something so you don’t wander off.” “Nope,” Belle shook her head and quickened her pace to a merry skip. “Is she ill?” Thorin asked in a whisper. “She’s always been a bit uneven in the head, but I think she’s just up to something,” Lane hummed, continuing to tap her blade along the ground. “Izz! Don’t go too far! I’m not coming after you if you get lost!” Belle hummed and continued to skip ahead of them by about twenty feet. “See. This is why you guys need to stay on the path and listen to us while you’re in here; the air will make you turn loops like that,” Lane grinned, turning and pointing up ahead at her friend. “Oi! I’m not turning loops! Is it a crime to be in a good mood!” Belle barked, spinning on her spot and glaring back at her friend, fists on her hips. “In this place, it’s all but a sin,” Lane snickered as they caught up to her. Belle crossed her arms over her chest with a pout and allowed Lane to pass her before quickly walking in step with the taller woman. “How long will it take us to get through the forest?” Thorin asked, his hand never straying from the hilt of Orcrist. “It… depends really,” Lane stumbled, not expecting such a question. “It could take… up to a week or only a few more days…” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Gloin asked, sounding confused. “It means that we have to stay on our toes and listen to our Champion,” Fíli called out from behind his uncle. Lane chuckled under her breath as Belle turned and gave her friend a teasing grin. The taller noticed her friend’s grin and rolled her eyes, turning back to the front and continuing to lead on.

#Futures Known But Unspoken #Tolkien fanfiction #The Hobbit fanfiction

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foxrun-fluffery · 5 years

Text

The Greatest Distance

Summary: Thorin’s company is displaced in time by Gandalf, due to an emergency. They land in front of country girl Piper and her son. After recognizing them, mostly, she realizes that in no way can they be left on their own in this modern world, and now she has to cope with some of the strangest house guests ever!

OC/Canon ship to develop.

Tag List: @sdavid09, @fallnangelcreations

CHAPTER THREE

READ FROM BEGINNING | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

A pillow fight and a drink with a king

Hours after everyone was fed, dressed in new clothes, Piper had let Riordan out to play in the yard, and he had dragged Fili, Kíli, and Ori out to play kickball, Piper went on to climb up to the little attic and bring down spare bedding, realizing that she might have house guests for some time. She pulled the ladder down from the ceiling door when she heard someone coming up. Seeing Bofur, in his brown flannel shirt and khaki pants, she grinned. He had kept his hat and scarf, and his gloves and boots, but the rest he had put aside for now. “Hey, Bofur. Whatcha need?”

“Jus’ came t’ give ye a hand if ye need it.” He replied, walking over to her. “Ah, that’s a good little hidey hole!”

“Mm? Oh it’s just attic storage. Spare stuff and whatnot.”

Bofur nodded, eyeing the construction of the folding ladder. Interesting. “I see. Did yer husband build it?”

Piper chuckled and shook her head. “My grandparents built this place. Then my parents had it, and we lost them two years ago, so I inherited it.”

“Oh! My condolences then.” Bofur took his hat off, holding it to his chest as he gave her a slight bow. “It’s a very nice place.”

She smiled, amused. “Thank you. I loved coming to visit here when my grandparents still lived here,” she explained as she climbed up the ladder. “Never expected to own it though. Guess it was logical, I mean, we paid off the land fairly early and my parents finished the few payments on the house my grandparents couldn’t make. So it was all paid up by the time mom and dad moved in.” Her voice faded some as she reached the top of the stairs, but she returned to peer down at him. “I’m gonna toss down blankets, ok?”

“O’ course!” He agreed, holding his arms out. “So your husband didn’t build a home for you?”

“Haven’t got a husband. Never married.” Came her muffled voice before a pile of dusty blankets dropped down on him.

“Wha—!?” Bofur started to question her but the dust got sucked into his lungs and he started coughing. When he looked up again, he spotted her head hanging out of the doorway, with a humored grin, and she giggled when she saw him looking at her. “Aye, just laugh at ol’ Bofur! Don’t mind me down here dyin’!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” She rolled her eyes, but was still chuckling. “Just dust!” Another pile of blankets and some pillows came tumbling down after that. One caught the dwarf in the face and he yelped and had thrown it back at her before he realized what he had done. Luckily she took it in good humor and began aiming pillows at him. It wasn’t long until most of the pillows were in a disarrayed pile around Bofur and they were both laughing. Piper was bringing the last few down the ladder when she stepped on the corner of a blanket draped over the rung. It slid and she went sprawling with a loud yelp, confused when she felt herself caught by strong arms. “Oof!”

Bofur, pinned under the woman, her legs across his chest, his arm behind her back in a desperate attempt to prevent her from striking her head on anything, winced when her shoe that had fallen off in the tumble, was wedged in his back. He was supporting her mid back, her rather nice rump on his shoulder, and he just smiled up at her. “Ye a’righ’?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah I am.” Surprised at their situation, she looked around, glad he appeared uninjured, if a touch squished.

Up the stairs thundered a number of dwarves, and they rounded upon the two heaped on the floor. Piper was looking up at the ladder, while trying to detangle herself from Bofur.

“I’ve never fallen on that… crazy.” Shaking her head, she looked back to see the crowd of dwarves, and gladly accepted Bifur’s offered hand as she stood. “Thanks, and thank you, Bofur. I bet you save me from getting hurt.”

The miner just grinned from his spot on the floor and reached behind him, handing her back the shoe. Everyone else but Bofur and Bifur gathered up blankets and pillows and carted them down to the den.

“For a dwarf who was nearly flattened, you look quite pleased.” Bifur smirked at his cousin, speaking of course in Khuzdul.

“You’re awfully mouthy!” Bofur shot back with a wide grin. Still, as much as he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact his cousin was right, he couldn’t even try to deny it.

Bifur reaches down and clasped his arm with Bofur, pulling the other dwarf to his feet. As Bofur swept his dislodged hat from the floor, dusting it off as though that might actually accomplish something, the older dwarf shook his head. “She’s married, cousin. Else how did she have that boy?”

There was a twinkle of light in Bofur’s eyes. “She’s not. Never has been.” He shrugged, unable to help the grin that was starting to spread on his face. “Even Gandalf said things were different here. Maybe it’s not unusual?” He sad, seeing the skepticism in Bifur’s face. “Ye know I’d be de last t’ judge.” When he had been near Fíli’s age, he had a wild streak in him that had involved certain ladies of a particular employment. No dwarven female would ever work thusly, so they had been females of the race of men.

The axe-headed dwarf heaved a breath and shook his head. “And here I thought you just had a particular taste in females!”

Scoffing, Bofur reached out to playfully cuff his cousin on the shoulder. “Hey now!” They both chuckled and made their way downstairs. Though at the top of the stairs they had heard a commotion, not one of any sort of panic or ill-naturdeness, and by the time they had come down and around the corner of the short hall leading to the den, they came into sight of an epic battle. Of pillows.

Riordan seemed to be the instigator in all of it. The young lad shrieked and giggled, laughing at he swung his pillow at unexpected nimble dwarves. Oin and Balin has wisely stepped away into the dining room adjacent this open room. Dwalin was standing guard in front of a glass case with fancy knick knacks, while Dori had been stationed in front of a large black rectangular thing. Kíli and Fíli were running about, both avoiding pillows either swung or thrown at them by the boy. Ori and Nori were whacking each other and occasionally Gloin. What surprised the two coming into this scene was Thorin was crouched, pillows in hand, jousting with Riordan as he came by.

As stoic and majestic as the king was, he has helped raise his nephews, and did greatly enjoy children’s antics and playfulness. Even if he didn’t get to indulge often now that the boys were grown.

“Where’s Bombur?” Bofur asked after a moment of watching the group playing.

“Went to the washroom.” Dwalin said, his eyes tracking the small child, even he was grinning. With so few dwarrowdams, a child was precious. Even in these strange circumstances, it did the hearts of the company good to see the boy, so full of innocent laughter and lightheartedness. Though they didn’t know it yet, this was turning out to be just the break they needed, better even than when they all nearly destroyed Bag End.

Wincing a little, Bofur turned and started towards the hall. “Which is…?”

“Two doors to the right, yeah down that hall.” Piper grinned at him, pointing him in the direction of the bathroom. She was promptly distracted by the backswing of Nori’s pillow as he tried to get his brother, and had hit her in the face behind him. This started a scuffle, that the woman gladly joined in. The dwarves, while accepting, were mindful of the woman and child.

With a grin at them, Bofur walked away to check on his brother. Whom he found just stepping out of the bathroom, with a disturbed expression. “What happened?”

“It’s pourin’ water everywhere!” Bombur hissed in quiet panic. He pushed the door open to show the water running out of the toilet bowl. “What do we do?!”

Bofur ran in, ignoring the splashing of his heavy boots. He gave the strange toilet a quick look over, not recognizing how exactly the device worked. “Mahal’s beard…” Turning to his brother with a helpless look, he shrugged, a gesture which Bombur repeated.

Soon Dwalin peered around the corner, rolling his eyes. “You two imbeciles are messin’ up the lass’s house!” He growled at them, shaking his head. Of course they were already making trouble. “Fix it!”

“We can’t!”

Gradually one after another, a dwarf disappeared from the romping about, until there were only a few left, and Piper, realizing something was going wrong, looked about. Where had they all gone? Then she followed the sounds of poorly hushed whispers, and found them crowded around the bathroom, and backed up toilet. One had the lid to the tank in his hand, and she had to muffle a laugh at the panicked expressions, and the pile of towels they were using to sop up the seemingly endless mess.

“Okay, okay! Boys! BOYS!” She called over the anything but quiet whispering. Going to the sink, she pulled the plunger from the cabinet, “Let me at it.” And in a few minutes she had taught most of the company of Thorin, how to plunge a toilet. Shooting the dwarves off to the den, she got the rest of the mess cleaned up, and bleached.

“Quite sorry about all of this, Mrs. Morgan,” came a quiet voice from the doorway. Bilbo smiled politely when she turned to him, just as she was putting things away. “They did rather the same to my toilet, with less of a… puddle.” He grimaced. “I hate to think what it may look like now.”

Piper chuckled, walking over to him. He was just the size of her boy, so finding clothes for him had simply meant giving him Riordan’s nice outfit. “I bet you’ll get it sorted just fine. You seem quite ingenious, and from what I hear of hobbits, there’s not much that can stop a hobbit from making a fine home.”

Under her praise, Bilbo stood to his full height, looking quite self satisfied. “Bag End is very much a fine home, if I do say so myself. I doubt it would be possible, but for whatever it means, I would very much like to show it to you. You’ve opened your home to us, Mrs. Morgan, it would only be fair.” He hesitated a moment before grinning, a touch of playful humor glinting in his merry eyes. “Though, perhaps after I’ve repaired my plumbing first.”

The woman laughed and gently clapped him on the shoulder. “I appreciate that, I really do, Mr. Baggins.”

“Bilbo, please.” He insisted.

She grinned at him, “Only if you call me Piper. And it would be miss, anyway. I never married.” Seeing his look of surprise she chuckled, “Different social structure. A woman doesn’t have to marry, not even to enjoy a man’s company.” She waited, amused by his further shock. “I’m not some wild party girl, but I did… get a little wasted and had a very good time. Rio’s a bit of a souvenir from that. It was tough at first, but I love my little boy, wouldn’t change history if I could.” There was a warm sort of smile on her face.

The hobbit fought to remind himself that this was a different time and a different world, but he saw the look of love on her face, and he smiled. “I can see how much you love him. I may be grown now, but seeing you two makes me miss my own mother.”

Piper smiled at him, nodding slightly, unable to deny she missed hers as well. “My parents died in an accident. I hate that Rio doesn’t have a grandma to spoil him, I hate not having her around to ask her advice. But… I hope she’d be proud of us.”

“I also lost my parents in an accident,” Bilbo looked up at her, the two sharing a moment of sympathy.

“Hey, c’mon, why don’t you come help me fix up a batch of tea, and you can tell me about your parents.” Piper motioned for him to follow her to the kitchen, a nice large kitchen with a bay window and long curved counter, double ovens, central island stovetop, deep sinks, and a number of nice contraptions.

A broad smile spreading on his face, Bilbo nodded, “I’d be happy to! And you must tell me about your family in return.”

And so the two went off to fix up tea, and a good sized plate of Milano cookies, for the company. By the time they had tea and snacks, the others had set up a living space for themselves and the absent hobbit, Bofur once more looking out for his little friend. All of her guests were happy to have a cup of tea, and they calmed from their bustling and joking about to sit and drink, even if a number of them would have rather had ale or the like, they weren’t going to turn down a freely offered cup. They took this time to chat amicably with their hostess, many telling her something about themselves, and answering her questions.

“This is quite nice!” Dori chirped up after a few sips. “What is it?”

“Orange spiced chai.” Piper replied as she sipped her own tea, now and then watching Riordan, who was laying across one of the dwarves’ claimed spots, on the supplied bedding, sound asleep. He had crashed after the pillow fight, when the plumbing disaster had struck.

Balin, quite enjoying this milk tea, looked up, licking his lip still, and spoke softly so as not to wake the boy. “Miss Piper, while we appreciate that you’ve taken us in, more than you could know, lass, dwarves are very hard to house and feed. You’ve already had to buy what I imagine was a great deal more food than you two would eat, and we seem to have made a mess of your toilet. Which I’m relieved could be repaired so easily.” He saw her starting to object, and held his hand up to hold her off for a moment. “There must be some way we can either make ourselves useful, or somehow take the financial burden off of you.”

Understanding how he, and likely the others, felt, Piper contemplated his words for a few moments. “Well… I had been thinking of going back into my grandpa’s trade. He was a logger, sold firewood mostly, to people who couldn’t go out to get their own. We’ve still got his equipment, and this place could use some tree thinning. A few good loads should give us some funds to keep you all fed.”

“Logging? Like some kind of—” Dwalin was cut off by his king.

“That would be perfect. We’ve felled trees before, at least some of us. It’s a good trade, and we can work fast.” Thorin said with a sense of finality. They had to do something to earn their keep. And it was highly unlikely they could use their skills that they were more accustomed to. He had neither seen nor heard mention of a forge. “We are smiths, miners, toy makers, and the like, but we can easily adapt to becoming woodsmen.”

“Typically we use the term woodcutter, but that works.” Piper assured him. “I dunno if you’ll be here long enough, but in two weeks we’re having a market sale, handcrafted items and such. I’m bringing my decorated candles to sell.”

“Yer a candle maker then?” Bofur asked, curiously, his eyes lighting up to hear she too worked handcrafts.

“As a hobby, I enjoy it.” Piper got up and walked around to a bookshelf, pulling down a colorful intricately carved and shaped candle. “See? I make these sort of things. People like to buy them for parties and special occasions, since we have electric lights.”

“The magic lights you mean?” Ori piped up, pointing up to the ceiling light. It wasn’t any sort of fancy chandelier, but a simple round glass covered light.

“Magic… well I suppose it might look like magic, but they’re far from. It’s electricity, uhm… kind of like harnessed lightning? Well… it’s created by machines mostly, but yeah.” Piper pursed her lips, the way they were learning she did when she wasn’t certain how to explain something.

“There is a lot of your world that is strange to us.” Balin smiled kindly. “We understand, it’s difficult to explain things one might take for granted.”

“Exactly!” Piper cried with a sense of relief, a bright smile dawning on her face as she felt pleased he understood her horrible attempts at trying to help them understand. “A lot of it is things I’ve never thought I’d have to explain, I don’t even understand how it works myself. The more developed we, as a society become, the more complex machinery and technology becomes. I’ve kept up with some of it, mostly what applies to my work, but I can’t tell you how everything works.” She half shrugged. “Happy to explain what I can,” she offered, tacking quickly on, “Within reason and not constantly,” as she looked over, seeing Ori had his mouth open already, and he snapped it shut sheepishly. “But for now, let’s take it slow and see if we can make this all work for us, okay? I bet you guys are all turned around and messed up, this can’t be easy for you!”

Bofur stood straighter, just slightly, feeling a surge of what he could only imagine was pride, perhaps a touch of happiness, to hear her so concerned about them like that. “Aye, ‘tis no’ an easy nor comfortable journey for us, but we’re lucky t’ have ye, lass.”

“Mmm say that when you see me tomorrow before I have my coffee.” She teased him. Her mind flitted about to how she would feed them the next day and what to do after that, so thankful she worked at home.

Thorin seemed to recede into his own thoughts, sitting on the sofa, watching everyone around him quietly. How long would they be stranded there? He was itching to continue his quest, his impatience allayed only by the remembering of the wizards words. They would return mere seconds after they had left. Still, to be interrupted so soon after beginning the journey! They had hardly left Bree, but four days ago. He couldn’t help but feel this did not bode well for the rest of the journey. After a moment he felt eyes on him, and looked up to find their hostess looking at him while the others had broken off into quiet conversations of their own. He was startled to see that she had a sort of encouraging expression, as if by some strange magic she could understand his thoughts. Then she made a subtle motion with her head for him to follow and she rose, excusing herself, and slipped away to the kitchen.

Waiting for the king, Piper pulled the step stool over and climbed up to reach her liquor cabinet. Heading his heavy steps and he walked in, she pointed over her shoulder, “Grab a couple glasses, huh?” Then she pulled down a bottle of old scotch she used to drink with her grandfather. It was still a favorite of hers, though she didn’t drink it very often anymore. “My grandfather and I used to drink this together, whenever I needed to get something off my chest.” Hopping down lightly, she went to fill the glasses. “You look like you need to say something.”

Thorin watched her for a moment, contemplating her offer. He picked up his glass when she did, and brought it to his face, first smelling the contents. His brows rose, and he looked down at the dark amber liquid. Bringing it to his lips he sipped it first, appreciating the slow burn and the spicy flavor, though the sweet after taste was a pleasant surprise to him. “You claim that our world is a story in yours. Tell me of it.”

“I can’t.” Piper replied in an adamant tone. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Raising a brow, Thorin lowered the glass, his eyes darkening in a faint scowl. “Can’t, or won’t?”

The woman sighed, cradling her half-filled glass in her hands. “Both? I can’t let myself tell you something that could possibly change the outcome, I won’t hurt your world. We have a theory in our world, called the Butterfly Effect. I don’t remember the exact details about it, but it’s something how the wings of a butterfly on one side of the world can cause a hurricane on the other.”

“Mmm… the echoing anvil. It’s not unique to your world.” Thorin nodded. He hated it, but he understood what she meant. “You fear telling us anything would become disastrous.”

Piper nodded, “I will tell you this much, the tales on your world do not stop with your time. There are other great tales, epic stories, or rather events for you. That will matter greatly to many, human, elf, and dwarf alike. I can’t tell you anything that would change your decisions now, because it could change even the littlest of details, which might have bigger repercussions in the future.” Her eyes met his imploringly, and she watched his expression as he thought it over, gradually softening.

Thorin sighed, taking a slow drink once more. “Very well. I will not push you on the matter further.” He relented, for now recognizing that she had a point. It didn’t, however, mean he wouldn’t try to find out information in other ways. He would speak with some of the others and work with them to discern as much as they could before they left.

“Besides,” Piper added, “It’s all written up as a story, who knows what details were changed to make it a better one.” She gave one of her half shrugs, and glanced towards the doorway. “I think I can tell you one thing, though, if you swear you won’t repeat it.”

“On my grandfather’s throne, I swear I shall not.” Thorin answered immediately, and he meant it.

“Gloin’s boy, Gimli? He will be a part of a great adventure, and do many wondrous things.” She told him in a soft voice, to be sure it didn’t carry to the other room.

Thorin’s brows rose again, and he glanced to the doorway before chuckling. “That dwarf is so proud of his lad. I’m sure he’ll be insufferable if that comes to pass.” He looked back at her, “I caution you not to mention his family unless you have an hour or more to spare.” The two shared a laugh, and finished their drinks to lighter talk of logging and what equipment she had to do it with, until Riordan had woken, and had convinced some of the others to go play outside, teaching them the finer points of kickball.

Meanwhile, Piper and Bombur, who was happy to volunteer his aid, worked on making dinner. She had bought, not long ago, very large roast, that she intended to cut up into smaller portions that evening, and store away in her freezer. But it seemed a perfect meal for the dwarves now. Plus she had a large box of potatoes in her pantry and they soon had the roast, cut in half, baking in the twin ovens. Bombur was delighted by them, and looked longingly at the devices. If only he had something like that to use! The potatoes were set to boil, and Bilbo had joined them, and he and Bombur debated seasonings, looking over the spice rack that Piper had.

When she stepped out to check on everyone, she found Oin had curled up on her couch for a nap, and Balin was perusing her bookshelf, holding one of her father’s old books about car repair. A certain set of books weren’t there, so she didn’t worry about him stumbling across anything he shouldn’t. Then she went to the window to watch the antics in her yard. Thorin and Dwalin had gone off to look at the trees on her property, to best discern which would sell well, she had indicated that there was a good sized stand of tamaracks near the back. The rest of the dwarves were happily engaged in what was becoming quite the unusual game of kickball. Shaking her head, she was amazed at the very strange turn her life had taken.

Then she turned her head when she heard muttering from the kitchen, in that language she didn’t know. Coming back, she found Bifur had joined them, but he was hiding something in his big hands, and was visibly upset. “What’s wrong?” She hurried over, hoping to help.

Bombur sighed, “Ah, lass. Seems me cousin sort of got carried away tryin’ t’ figure out how yer lad’s toy worked and… he can’t seem t’ fix it.”

Bifur turned to her, actual tears in his eyes, holding the little broken toy fire engine. He said something in a softer tone, glancing to Bombur to translate.

“He says he’s very sorry, an’ would like t’ make it up t’ ye somehow.” Bombur informed her, his accent not quite as thick as his brother’s but definitely there.

Piper saw the little bits of broken plastic, and quickly guessed the dwarf had never seen the likes of it, only to find it more brittle than he realized. She smiled, scooping it all up and dropping it in the trash can. “Don’t worry about it, accidents are bound to happen, and it was just a little toy Rio’s mostly grown tired of anyway.” Looking back at the language-bound dwarf, she saw there was still distress in his eyes, so she stepped up to him and took one of his large calloused hands in hers. “Tell you what, Bofur mentioned earlier you were a toy maker, so I’m guessing that’s what had you curious about this toy.” He rapid nod had her lips quirking into a smile. “Well then, why don’t you make him something unique to replace it? Then he’ll always have something to remember his new dwarven friends by.”

Bifur’s face lit up with her words, and he spoke, excited and animated, before he swept her into a nearly crushing hug, and dashed away to get his tools.

Piper ran to the doorway after him, calling out, “There’s a big oak behind the house, if you want to use that!” She turned back to find the strangest look on Bombur’s face. He seemed to happy, but his face was scrunched up with tears in his eyes. “Bombur?”

“Oh, lass, ye… he jus’... tha’ was very kind of ye.” With a sniffle, he turned back to the quiet hobbit and the boiling pot of potatoes. As he stirred them, he was smiling, seeing Bifur from the kitchen window, already running out to the oak tree and inspecting it. Yes, a kind lass indeed. As strange as their stay here was, he wasn’t too displeased by it. “Ah, lass, have we cream?”

“Hmm… just condensed milk in a can.” Piper replied, before quickly realizing she had more explaining to do. If someone calls me Lucy, I’m gonna scream.

While she was doing that, she missed a little pack of dwarves sneaking curiously into her garden shed…

Next Chapter

#TheGreatestDistance #TheHobbit #Thorin #Bofur #Bifur #Bombur #Balin #Dwalin #oC #Etc etc etc #Tale Teller’s Plot Bunny Challenge 2019

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chimpukampu · 6 years

Text

Adrinette April Day 11 - Slow Dance

@adrinetteapril

AO3 | Fanfiction | Wattpad

Week 1: Just Friends - Day 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Week 2: Falling in Love - Day 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Week 3: Reveal - Day 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21

Week 4: Dating - Day 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 and 30

It was a slow day for T & S Boulangerie Patisserie, so the Dupain-Chengs decided to close the bakery early. As Sabine headed upstairs to prepare for dinner and Tom to the backroom for restocking and checking the inventory, Marinette decided to handle the store cleaning.

She left Tikki upstairs for her cookie moments, and since she was all alone in an empty bakery with no onlookers outside, she decided to amuse herself for some slow dance.

Inserting her earphones on her media player, she selected an old Spanish bolero. Her hips swayed as the stringed instruments began its introduction, then twirled the mop on her hand when vocals started.

Besame, besame mucho. Como si fuera ésta noche la última vez

She dragged her feet on the tiled floors in time with the rhythm, then closed her eyes as she internalized the lyrics.

Besame, besame mucho. Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte después

The cold air of Parisian night mixed with the scent of vanilla and honey soothed her senses. She untangled her ribbons to let her midnight hair down, bobbed her head on the sides languidly then hummed:

Besame, besame mucho. Como si fuera ésta noche la última vez

The Latin music was blaring loudly on her earphone she barely heard the chime of the front door opening or even took a notice of a certain presence who was enjoying the view.

Besame, besame mucho. Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte después

Marinette spun like a ballerina, but her momentum was ruined when her foot got snagged with the mop. She squeezed her eyes shut and accepted her demise to meet the cold tiled floor but never came.

The girl slowly opened her bluebell eyes and met a familiar emerald one.

"A - A - Adrien?!" she shrieked, jerking herself away but the blond's strong arms held her in place.

"Whoa, Marinette! Relax, it's just me. Here, let me take that mop or you might hurt yourself more." he chuckled much to her mortification.

No way she can relax.

He just caught her dancing!

Her media player fell off from her pocket, which ended up unplugging the ear jack from its socket and leaking the rest of the song audibly.

Quiero tenerte muy cerca, mirarme en tus ojos, verte junto a mi

He raised his brow. "You're listening to Trio Los Panchos?"

Piensa que tal vez mañana, yo ya estaré lejos, muy lejos de ti

"Ah, uh, yes. I pre - prefer their ve - version more. The - they're the Ori - original anyway," she stammered as she plucked her player on the floor and stopped the music. "We - we just closed a bit early, bu - but feel free to cho - choose whatever pastry you want to bu - buy. The - the cashier is still open."

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know you were closed," he smiled weakly. "Because the door sign still says 'Open'."

Marinette groaned inwardly. Of course, she forgot to flip the foutre signboard.

"I think you lied to me when you told me you can't dance," Adrien's words brought her back to her current predicament.

"Mon Dieu, you're not supposed to see that," she facepalmed with flustered cheeks. "How long have you been here?"

"Not too long," he told her slyly. "Just enough for me to witness you serenading the mop."

The girl squirmed. "That's so...embarrassing."

"No, it's not. In fact, I find it enchanting," he said, peeling her hands gently from her face. "Hey, dance with me?"

"What?!"

Adrien smirked as he took the player from her hands and pressed the Play button.

Besame, besame mucho. Como si fuera ésta noche la última vez

It was like Chloe's party all over again - him holding her close as he placed his hands on her hips while hers on his shoulders. Only that they were surrounded by almost-empty shelves of pastries instead of friends, over-turned tables instead of hors-d'oeuvres, an audio recording instead of a live performance, and an empty bakery instead of a pristine hotel.

Besame, besame mucho. Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte después

"I haven't seen you wearing your hair down," his deep hoarse voice reverberated in her ear. "You should do it often. It's lovely."

"Me - merci." she stammered with a profused blush.

Two bodies swayed as the traditional strings began to play in the background. Marinette began to relax, drawing herself nearer to Adrien's warmth. This made the blond trembled with happiness.

Quiero tenerte muy cerca, mirarme en tus ojos, verte junto a mi

Nuzzling the crown of her hair with gusto, he whispered, "Marinette?"

"Hmm?"

Piensa que tal vez mañana, yo ya estaré lejos, muy lejos de ti

"Do you know the title of this song?"

Marinette tilted her head to his question and was captivated by the intensity of his green orbs. Their noses touched, their heavy breathing mingled on each other's lips they could almost taste its warmth, and their heartbeats began to thrum in a melody that only the two of them knows the tune.

Besame, besame mucho...

"Kiss me," she answered as if it was a secret to tell. "Kiss me a lot, Adrien."

Pulling her closer, the teens closed their eyes and -

"Oh Adrien, my boy! I'm glad you're here! We're closed right now but you are more than welcome to join us for dinner - oh, Marinette? I didn't see you there...what's the matter with your face, kids? You both looked like boiled lobsters! Oh, Sabine! Guess who's here - OUCH! Why did you hit me with a tray?!"

"Báichī!"

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joyfullynervouscreator · 7 years

Text

Silver Secret

imagine having broken up with Fíli a long time ago and then he catches you wearing something with special significance to both of you.

@life-is-righteous

Post barrels

“Where is it?!” you cried, searching for the chain that had lived around your neck since the day you’d received the small present. Looking over the river, Kíli groaning something behind you while Fíli argued with Thorin, you wished for a small glitter of silver. Spotting the barrel you had used for your escape, you splashed back into the river, making the rest of the Company shout out in surprise.

“Thinking of sailing back to the Elves, Mjoll?” Nori asked, laughing when you threw a rude gesture at him over your shoulder, searching the barrel frantically.

The chain wasn’t there! You stared at the water, calm here but the current still swift. Staring back towards the rapids you had barely survived, you could feel tears pressing, as you once more clutched at your bare neck. It was silly, perhaps, caring so much about a small trinket, but it wasn’t so much the small silver and jade pendant as it was the sentiment attached to the gift. Fíli had given it to you, years ago, for your Nameday, back when you’d still believed he was as in love with you as he said. After the break-up, you hadn’t wanted him to know you still cared, and you’d lengthened the chain he had made, hiding the small pendant under your clothes, a constant presence nestled between your breasts. It was silly, you knew, but you had kept the gift anyway, as a reminder to your traitorously longing heart that the dwarf you loved did not want you.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Ori said, touching your shoulder and startling you out of contemplating the waters before you. You turned, brushing away the single tear that had escaped your eye. Ori was holding your chain, the small silver disc catching the sunlight as it spun slowly.

“Yes!” you cried, reaching for it. Ori smiled, clasping the chain back around your neck. “Thank you, Ori,” you gushed, leaning in to peck his cheek as your fingers wrapped around the familiar shape. Ori blushed fiercely.

“Err... you’re welcome, miss Mjoll.” He stuttered, fleeing. You followed him, splashing your way back to the bank, only to find yourself staring at the pointy end of an arrow. Your hand released your necklace, grasping for anything to use as a weapon. Someone gasped.

Fíli had seen it, as Mjoll stood defiantly before the bargeman. He recognised his own work instantly, the small silver disc, a motif of an eagle in flight above a mountain on one face and the other spelling her name. Mjoll. She had kept it? All this time? The memory of kissing her assaulted his mind; clasping the small gift around her neck as he stole a kiss from her lips on her Nameday. Obviously, she had, or she wouldn’t have had it now, Fíli thought, unable to keep from staring at her chest, as though his eyes could penetrate her shift and see the small trinket once more, making sure it was really that necklace. But why had she kept it? It wasn’t like she’d ever loved him, why keep a token of their affair? As always, the word tasted sour on his tongue, trying to stop his heart from believing that maybe – just maybe – she had, in fact, loved him as she said she did. The romantic part of his mind wanted it to be true, while the ruthlessly logical part was quick to remind him that she certainly hadn’t cared for him as more than a sweet little fling, throwing the image of her in the arms of some stranger against the part of him that wanted to soften. Fíli winced. He’d never discovered who the dwarf was that had stolen Mjoll’s heart, and in the five years that had passed since, he had not seen her walking out with anyone special on the few days where he bumped into her accidentally – nor on the slightly larger amount of days where he had been actively following her. He still remembered…

“I’ll be back for you, raklûna[1],” the dwarf had said, whispered against Mjoll’s pale hair, and Fíli could only hear him because they were standing two metres from the corner of the house, arms around each other as his heart broke.

“I’ll miss you every day,” Mjoll swore. “Be safe, please. I love you.”

The dwarf had kissed her forehead. “I love you, too, Mjoll.” with that, he had left, and Fíli had stood frozen to the ground for a long time, watching her stare after the diminishing figure.

It had taken him three days to stop feeling sick at the thought of speaking with her. On the fourth day, he’d gone to her house and broken off their entanglement.

...Fíli had no interest in being some sordid little affair, he told himself viciously, every time he had caught sight of her smiling at one of the Company and wished that she would smile so sweetly at him. Mjoll tended to ignore his presence, which had suited him quite well so far, speaking to him only of inconsequential things like ‘Did you water the ponies?’ or ‘Would you get some firewood?’.

You woke feeling someone’s hands pulling at the chain that disappeared under your borrowed dress. Bard had been scandalized to find that you were a woman – the binder for your breasts had been entirely waterlogged, and there was no hiding your bosom in nothing but a shift – but he had managed to find a dress that fit reasonably among his late wife’s, even if it was a foot and a half too long. In a couple of quick moves, you had the attacker beneath you, an eating knife pressed against his jugular. A braid whispered across the back of your hand.

“Fíli!?” you shrieked, incredulous, as Nori – the lightest sleeper, by far – lit a candle in response to the ruckus. Pinned beneath you was the furiously red-faced Heir of Thorin Oakenshield. “What in the name of Mahal and the seven Fathers did you think you were doing?” you hissed, stung by this unprovoked attack. “I’m not some camp-follower or something!”

“No, no!” Fíli tried, but you were in no mood to listen to excuses.

“Nori, would you go wake the King for me, please?” you asked sweetly. “I’d like to lodge a complaint against Fíli, son of Víli, for assaulting me in my sleep.” By now, half the Company was awake to hear your words, and Fíli’s blush was intensifying.

“What in the name of Durin is going on here?!” Thorin hollered, seeing his heir pinned beneath your furious form.

“I woke to find Fíli, son of Víli with his hands on their way into my dress,” you replied evenly, gesturing to the undone laces that did very little to conceal your ample chest. “Needless to say, it was not a welcomed advance in any way.” Getting up, you moved over to stand beside Dwalin, who wrapped his arm around your shoulder. The warrior had found you as an orphaned dwarfling and raised you like a daughter; Dwalin had taught you everything you knew about fighting. Balin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, squeezing you between the two Fundinuls, as Dori moved in to put your dress to rights, clucking his tongue. Thorin stood frozen, as Fíli stared up at him from the floor. No one spoke.

“I believed we raised you better than this,” Thorin said, his voice so cold it made you shiver. “I believed you were worthy of trust, believed that we had taught you to care for those under your command and protection.” You winced, as Fíli did on the floor beneath his Uncle’s gaze. Your fury was waning slightly as you watched Thorin tear every possible strip from Fíli’s hide.

“I swear, Uncle, I didn’t mean to-” Fíli tried again, getting to his feet.

“Didn’t mean to assault a dam as she slept, as she was under MY protection?!” Thorin roared. “Or perhaps you simply didn’t mean to get caught, thinking your status as my heir would let you get away with whatever you wanted?”

“Why did you do it, Fíli?” you asked, feeling so small. This, this was the final piece of evidence that he had spoken truly when he claimed not to have loved you, you thought, wishing that you could simply disappear. “Why?” you repeated, when he turned to face you, his usually bright eyes shadowed.

“I needed…” he trailed off, looking physically hurt by the way you flinched away from him. “I needed to see.”

“Disgusting,” Thorin spat.

“No!” Fíli shouted. “Not, not that! I needed to see if I saw what I saw earlier,” he continued, which made about as much sense as a comb without teeth, you thought. Once again, he reached towards you, uncaring that Dwalin was growling low in his throat. “Why did you… keep it?” he asked, looking like you were the one torturing him. Suddenly, your fury returned tenfold. Wrapping your hand around the pendant that hung down, the chain revealed by your undone neckline, you tugged sharply, breaking the thin chain.

“This is what you wanted?” you asked, incredulous. “You piece of scum!” you seethed, throwing the broken piece of jewellery at him. Fíli caught it deftly, staring at the small token. “Take it then,” you cried, “take it and never speak to me ever again!” Furiously, you whirled, leaving Balin’s protective hold and making your way out of the house.

“Do you wish to explain that little display?” Thorin asked, his voice still as frosty as midwinter.

“I made this,” Fíli replied woodenly, staring in the direction Mjoll had vanished, his fingers wrapped tightly around the silver necklace she had thrown at him. “I gave it to her, years ago. I thought she threw it away, but she… she kept it? I just... I wanted to know why.” Thorin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You assaulted a dam – committed a crime – to find out why a girl kept a silly piece of silver?!” he roared. “I can’t even –” Thorin shook his head. “I’ll deal with you in the morning. I’m tempted to send you back to your amad in a fish barrel right now!” Fíli nodded meekly. He could admit that he should have gone about finding answers in a different way. He didn’t even try to avoid the punch Dwalin aimed at his stomach, knowing he deserved worse. Under their laws, he ought to face a harder punishment than a punch from an enraged father-figure.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Will you tell Mjoll… I’m sorry, for all of it.” Dwalin just snorted, turning on his heel to march out of the house, probably following the wayward dam.

“Want to tell me what happened?” Dwalin asked quietly, sitting down on the cold boards of the walkway beside you and wrapping a warm arm around your shoulders, turning your face into his chest when you began to weep quietly.

“Fíli gave it to me for my Nameday, just before Jofur left,” you whispered. “along with a kiss. It wasn’t a promise, he said, even if he’d like it to be.” You hiccupped a slight sob. “He broke it off with me a week later, just after Jofur left Thorinuldûm.” You sighed, “I don’t even know why I kept it, clearly he never felt anything for me.” Dwalin rumbled a soothing growly sound – he wasn’t good with words of comfort, but he managed to convey his sympathy anyway. “I thought… for a long time I thought he loved me as I loved him, Adad, really loved him.” Dwalin didn’t say anything, letting you make up your mind. “I feel stupid.”

“I always loved her,” Fíli admitted, when Kíli took up where Uncle had left off as soon as the two brothers entered the room they’d been given to share by the Master.

“WHAT?” the dark-haired prince said. Fíli laughed – a sound that was almost sobs.

“I made her that necklace because I loved her.”

“YOU were the one who broke up with her, Fíli!” Kíli cried, aghast. Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Kíli sank down onto his musty bed.

“Because she had someone else!” Fíli cried, just as hotly.

“Are you daft, nadad?” Kíli asked, poleaxed. “Mjoll only ever looked at you… just as you only looked at her. Amad has been planning your wedding for the last 20 years almost!”

“That’s not true, Kíli” Fíli replied tiredly, “I heard her tell him she loved him with my own ears.”

“Wait, tell who?”

“I don’t know!” Fíli cried, exasperated. “I couldn’t really walk up in the middle of ‘I’ll miss you every day’ and ‘I love you, too, Mjoll’ and ask who the dwarf was, could I?!” Slumping onto his own dusty mattress, Fíli continued, “I saved up the silver all through my summer guarding caravans for Glóin, giving it to her as soon as I returned home in autumn. It wasn’t even a week later I overheard her promising her love to this stranger!”

“I’d wondered why you never told me you’d broken up, actually,” Kíli said. “Wait, this was five years ago, no?” Fíli nodded, falling back onto his pillow. “But… Fíli that was the summer her older brother found Mjoll in Thorinuldûm… you know, Jofur? The brother who’d gotten separated from her, when she was little more than a pebble and Jofur got arrested for stealing food for her…” As Kíli spoke, Fíli’s face grew paler. “Jofur left in the autumn, going on a caravan job to the south; Harad or something… none of them were ever heard from again,” Kíli finished quietly.

“Oh, Mahal,” Fíli groaned. “I am an idiot.”

“Yes,” Kíli agreed evenly, “I think you’d be hard-pressed to find someone to disagree with that tonight, and even harder if you tell them you broke up with the dam of your dreams because she loves her brother. And then you assaulted her trying to find an old gift… yes, brother, you are an idiot.”

“Thank you,” Fíli replied drily. “Now help me come up with a way to fix it!”

“No idea. Repair her necklace, maybe. Oh, and grovel. Amad would say that you should grovel. Like on-your-belly grovel.” Kíli said, far too gleefully for Fíli’s taste. Covering his eyes with a groan, the older dwarf fell back on his musty pillow, nearly suffocating in the resultant cloud of dust. When he was done coughing, eyes red and streaming, Fíli picked up the small necklace he had so carefully shaped. The clasp – probably weakened from the strain of their river-journey, he thought, scrutinizing the break Mjoll had made when she yanked on the chain. If there were some pliers somewhere in this dump, he could fix it easily, wishing he could fix his other blunders just as swiftly.

[1] Precious one

Chapter 2

#fili #reader insert #fili has the dumb sometimes

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tsunderin · 5 years

Text

Microsoft Round-Up

Hey, do you remember when gameplay at E3 used to be a thing? Microsoft sure doesn’t.

The Outer Worlds: I can’t help but feel the premise of “fuck big companies. fuck capitalism” rings a little hollow during a AAA game company conference, but I haven’t really heard anything bad about Obsidian myself. The trailer stinger was really underwhelming and the graphics look about equal to Bethesda quality. Not that this means anything about the game itself--it’ll still most likely be fun.

Bleeding Edge: It’s Overwatch for people who actually want more better diversity! Imagine a game where every female character doesn’t have the same fucking base model and the same Disney-esque face model. It looks... like a carnival aesthetic. Or post-apocalyptic. Stage hazards seem to be a facet as well.

Ori and the Will Of the Wisps: Still looks cute, and from the audience reaction people are still hype for it.

Minecraft Dungeons: It’s like... a dungeon crawler MMO? But Minecraft? I think for people who like Minecraft, it could be really fun.

Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order: I like what I’m seeing of the humor in the game. But I can’t say I’m particularly interested in the protagonist.

Blair Witch: “IPs That No One Needed To Bring Back.” Not that it looks bad. It looks promising and way better than the zombie game I originally thought it was. Play as a detective looking for a lost kid.. I think. It might just be me, but some of the imagery screamed Deadly Premonition (like the red trees), which is weird. Since this game is totally not going to be that interesting.

Cyberpunk: Who the fuck cares CD Project Red still sucks lol. Poor Keanu Reeves.

Spiritfarer: This game looks adorable! You play as a sailing witch and it seems as though you get to craft your boat bigger, and cook, and date monsters maybe? You get to hug them at least. “Learn how to say goodbye” MAKES ME CRY ALREADY WHAT THE FUCK.

Battletoads: Sure is Battletoads still.

RPG Time: The Legend of Wright: I love the aesthetic for this. Parts of it are pencil drawn and it seems as though the entire game is comprised of different crafting items. Like Yoshi’s Crafted World, but not Yoshi. I’m here for this shift in design.

Indie @ Xbox:

Dead Static Drive

Pathologic 2

Star Renegades

Afterparty

Totally Accurate Battle Simulator

The Good Life (Yay!!)

Crosscode

Creature In the Well

Killer Queen Black

Riverbond

Unto the End

Blazing Chrome

Felix the Reaper

Undermine

Supermarket Shriek

Secret Neighbor

Ikenfell

Lord Of The Rings Something or Other

Night Call

Totem Teller

Flight Simulator: The graphics are gorgeous, but I got totally stressed just from watching it. Flight sims aren’t for me.

Age of Empires 2: Definitive Edition: I... was not expecting this, but cool. I’m sure the people that like this series are happy.

Wasteland 3: ....Okay, cold take but I’m kind of over the “wacky post-apocalypse” genre. It doesn’t look like this game does anything that other post-apoca games don’t do better.

Psychonauts 2: Looks cool! And it’s nice that Double Fine joined Xbox, if only so EA can’t buy them up and destroy them.

Lego Star Wars: The Skywalker Saga: Hell yes.

Project Z: Sure is a Dragon Ball Z game. The battles look really cool and dynamic.

12 Minutes: An “interactive thriller”. Dude’s stuck in a time loop until he figures out the mystery behind the maybe murder his wife did against her father. It’s an interesting concept, but I don’t know if I care for the story.

Way To the Woods: C U T E. Play as a deer with a baby deer and find your way back home. Puzzle platformer, as to be expected.

Gears 5: I think whatever struggle the heroine is going through will be compelling, but damn I sure know nothing from that trailer. There wasn’t even any gameplay for their new Escape mode, which is, uh, really dumb.

Dying Light 2: So you’re playing as an infected, which is somewhat interesting. But still, big pass.

Forza Horizon 4: A... lego expansion pack. I think that’s fun! Good for you, Forza.

Gears Funko: I can’t believe they’re showing this off for the second year in a row. AND it’s a mobile game. Please....

State of Decay 2: Heartland: I’m already over zombie games, but I can appreciate the two stories. One of the protagonists is a Black woman, so I can only hope that they do her story justice.

Phantasy Star 2: And here is where I died and for real spent the rest of the conference crying. I have been waiting SO LONG for this. So long. And it finally happened?! I’m still ready to openly weep. I CAN’T WAIT TO PLAY MORE FONEWEARLS!!!

Crossfire X: Full disclosure; I was still deep in happy tears so I have no idea what the fuck this is. It looks like a war game of some sort, and not really that interesting at all.

Tales of Arise: I’m PUMPED for another Tales game. But, uh, couldn’t you make the one line more... interesting? “Everything we knew.... was a lie.” Yeah. That’s every Tales game. Thanks. With the “pulling a sword out’cha girl” system, it looks something like Zesteria’s seraph system. But just from this it feels like a step back from Berseria.

Borderlands 3: WHAT DO YOU MEAN LILITH “USED” TO BE A SIREN. WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER? The classes this time around look really fun, and charge me as horny on main, but Zane could get it from me. I need to log back on BL2 and play that “Lilith and the Fight For Sanctuary” DLC...

Elden Ring: Given that it’s produced by FromSoft and writen by GRRM, it’ll probably be hella depressing and dark. Which isn’t for me, but it looks cool none the less.

Project Scarlett: It sounds like a cool console. An expensive console. We’ll see if it’ll be worth it.

Final Verdict:

(But more gameplay next year. Seriously.)

#E3 #E3pocalypse '19 #Microsoft #Xbox

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whatiwassuggesting-blog · 7 years

Text

A friend of mine - Hide and Seek

Title: A friend of mine Author: Chris (WhatIWasSuggesting) Fandom: BBC Sherlock Genre: Mystery/Horror Rating: Teen (Fiction T) Chapter: 2 of 4 (updated weekly) Word count: 2200 Warnings: Major Character Death, mild language conform show standard. Be advised, I didn’t put the horror part in for nothing.

Disclaimer: BBC Sherlock is not mine. There would be far more episodes if it was. I just borrow the characters and let them die. Because that’s what people DO.

Summary: When Sherlock disappears John is thrown into a frenzy - will Lestrade be able to find him, or will more sinister characters win the day?

Author notes: I’m supposed to be enjoying my holiday, instead, I found a way to get online and get you guys this new Chapter. (Hooray for McDonalds!)

A special thanks to my two wonderful betas: Alex (@evr0s), Peggy (@peggymarsh) and Tami (@ti-ori-se). You guys are awesome and I wouldn’t be able to produce this level of quality without your critical eye.

Read this at AO3 or FanFiction.net. Click here for the first chapter.

Chapter two - Hide and Seek

Why exactly Sherlock referred to Scotland Yard as dull or boring was beyond John, but to be fair, Sherlock would call his own murder dull, given the right circumstances.

The missing person’s report was filled out relatively fast, apart from Sherlock’s date of birth. It was rather painful when they found out none of them knew when Sherlock’s birthday was. John realized that in the 5 years he had known the detective, they had never celebrated it. Not even once. After consulting official records they found out it was the 6th of January. John marked it down in his calendar. Mary gave him a look.

John was grateful that Greg took time to file the report himself. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t his job, but it was nice to have a friendly face around. Somebody who didn’t roll their eyes at the name of Sherlock Holmes. John was certain that half of Scotland Yard was secretly relieved the arrogant detective had vanished.

“This must be what it feels like to have a drug addicted, teenage son.” Mary’s voice had interrupted his train of thought.

He glared at his wife. Her attitude bothered him. She had been all smiles since they left Baker Street this morning, cracking one joke after the other. She didn’t seem concerned for Sherlock’s safety at all. It was like a game to her, one that she was excited to play. John didn’t share that sentiment.

“Sherlock is not a teenager.”

She smiled. “Are you sure?”

Before John could reply, his phone rang. John’s mouth twitched as he saw the caller ID. It was the wrong Holmes.

“Mycroft.”

“Hello, John. My little brother is playing hide and seek again, I see?”

It was like Mycroft had his little brother on this fancy government text alert. John should have known. He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“What is it you want, Mycroft?”

“Don’t you think a missing person’s report is a little... dramatic?”

John snorted. Mycroft, of all people, calling him dramatic. Now he had really seen everything.

“It’s what normal people do when somebody goes missing. They go to the police, fill out a missing person’s report. You know, for people who don’t have government resources available to them.”

“Surely this is not the first time Sherlock’s gone missing.” There was a pause. “You could have contacted me.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll send a car. Oh wait, that’s what you do.”

Mycroft ignored John’s snarky comment, which was probably for the best. “I have people tracing his phone as we speak, since you seem so concerned.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, Dr. Watson?”

“No, no. It’s really heartwarming how you hijack the machinery of the state to look after your own family.”

“Believe it or not, my brother occasionally has utility to the nation and therefore can be viewed as an asset.”

“An asset, really?”

“And a liability, all at once.”

There was a pause. John rolled his eyes. Imagine if people knew that you actually care for your younger brother, like a normal human being. It had to be a downright nightmare, judging by the way Mycroft handled the whole situation.

There were muffled voices on the other side of the line. Mary tried to draw his attention, but he dismissed her.

“It seems Sherlock disabled his phone, we cannot trace it.”

John sat up straight in his chair. “What?”

“He disabled his phone. Clearly, he does not want to be found.”

“Or someone doesn’t want him to be found.”

Mycroft laughed. “I assure you, Sherlock can take excellent care of himself, when he chooses to apply himself to that sort of thing.”

“Something is wrong, Mycroft. I’m worried something has happened to him.”

“Worry is a misuse of your imagination, doctor. Sherlock will no doubt turn up sooner or later. In the meantime, I suggest you check his bolt holes. I recommend starting at the leaning tomb in Hampstead Cemetery, he seems to favor that one lately. Good day, John.”

John lowered his phone and stared at Mary.

“What is it? What did he say?”

“Sherlock turned off his phone. He can’t be traced.”

“What was his last known location?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Who didn’t say what?” John looked over his shoulder. Greg had returned with coffee.

“That was Mycroft.”

Greg raised his eyebrows as he set down the tray on the desk. “Well, that was quick. The report has barely been processed.”

“He tried to trace Sherlock’s phone, but he couldn’t get a location.”

“He turned it off?”

Mary laughed. John and Greg looked at her in surprise.

“Well, obviously he turned it off. He’s not an idiot, he knows it can be tracked. I bet it’s the drugs again.” John glared at her. She sounded way too cheerful. When she caught sight of him she raised her eyebrows. “Oh, you can’t seriously be surprised! Not after you dragged him out of a drug den, and after what happened on the plane. Really, John, it doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure this out.”

“Did you check any of his bolt holes?” Greg leaned against his desk. John looked down. He had been so sure something was wrong that he hadn’t considered looking for Sherlock first. Greg folded his arms. “Did you?”

John looked up. “Something is wrong. Sherlock wouldn’t have summoned us to Baker Street if he wasn’t going to show up.”

Greg shrugged. “It’s Sherlock, for all I know he’s running an experiment on us.”

“Besides, don’t you think that if someone took him, he would be smart enough to get a message through to you somehow?”

That was the first useful thing Mary had said since Sherlock had gone missing. He had to admit, it was hard to argue with that logic. Somehow, Sherlock always managed to come out on top. Odds were, he found some way to get word out if he did get into trouble. John bit his lip. It still didn’t feel right, but at least it gave him something to do.

“Maybe I missed it…”

Greg leaned forward a bit. “Sorry, what?”

“I must have missed it.” John got to his feet and grabbed his coat. Greg’s eyes followed his every move.

“Where are you going?”

“Mary is right, if something happened Sherlock would find a way to tell us. I’m going back to Baker Street.”

“How about his bolt holes?”

John paused. “Can you check them out?”

Greg sighed. “Strictly speaking, it’s not my job to go out and search for missing people…”

John looked away, doing his best to hide his disappointment. He managed a weak smile as he looked back at Greg. “I understand…”

Greg rested his hands on the desk. “I’ll see what I can do, I may have some time to spare. During lunch maybe.”

“Thanks, Greg. Check Hampstead Cemetery first.”

“The leaning tomb?”

“That’s the one.”

Mary pushed herself to her feet. “I suppose we’re off then.”

John waited for her by the door. His patience was wearing thin. Everything about Mary annoyed him, and especially her slow pace. He was convinced she did it on purpose. When they finally made it out he hailed a cab.

The ride to Baker street was quiet. John looked out the window, wishing he could somehow speed up time. There was a sense of urgency that he couldn’t quite place. He toyed with his phone, glancing down at it from time to time.

When they finally arrived, John bolted from the car, leaving Mary to deal with the cabby. He strode to the door as he fiddled with his keys, dropping them in his haste to find the right one. As he picked them up the door opened. In the doorway was Mrs. Hudson. She shrieked as she caught sight of him.

“Oh! John. You startled me!”

“Mrs. Hudson. I’m so sorry.” John stammered. “Have you heard anything from Sherlock?”

“I’m afraid not, dear. How did it go at the Yard?”

“Good, good. We filled out a missing person’s report.” John paused. “Mrs. Hudson, do you know when Sherlock’s birthday is?”

“Of course, dear. It’s the 6th of January. I don’t make a fuss. Sherlock likes to be left alone on his birthday. I tried to make him a cake once, dreadful day.” She shook her head.

“Oh, stop beating yourself up over it.” Mary had caught up, her hand resting on her belly. John rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t you know?” Mrs. Hudson raised her eyebrows. “Oh! You didn’t know!” She laughed as she laid a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a good thing you’re such a lovely doctor.” She chuckled and stepped past them. John’s gaze followed her. Wait, what?

Mary smiled as entered the house. John followed her up the stairs and into the living room. The flat felt strangely lifeless. His eyes lingered on Sherlock’s chair. What if Sherlock wouldn’t return? His mouth went dry. He quickly dismissed the thought. Sherlock would be back in his chair before they knew it, complaining about boring cases and dull clients. Quite possibly setting the flat on fire or blowing it up with one of his experiments. Just like it had always been.

He tore his eyes away from the chair and walked over to the desk. It was littered with notes and seemingly random objects. John tapped the desk with his fingertips, looking for anything out of place. That was easier said than done in the chaos Sherlock called his flat.

Unsure where to start, John stood by the desk, searching the flat for anything out of the ordinary. His eyes fell on the letters stabbed to the mantelpiece. He moved past Sherlock’s chair and dislodged the knife. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just unopened envelopes containing potential new cases. John shook his head and looked up.

The skull stared at him with its hollow eye sockets. John put the letters back and picked it up, not quite sure what he was looking for. It was real, that much he could tell. Sherlock’s words echoed through his head. “A friend of mine. When I say friend…” John shook his head and put the skull back. He didn’t really want to know.

“John! I think I found something!” Mary appeared in the doorway to the kitchen with a huge smile on her face, holding a syringe. “I told you, looking after Sherlock is like having a drug addicted, teenage son.” She waved the syringe around. John felt a pang of disappointment.

“Sherlock is not a teenager.”

“Then maybe he can stop acting like one. I’m tired of chasing after him.”

John took the syringe from her and examined it closely. It was unmistakably used. His face hardened. First the drug den, then the plane, and now this. Obviously the consulting detective couldn’t be trusted to live on his own. When he turned up, John was going to talk to him about living arrangements.

“Better add every drug den in London to the list of places to search for Sherlock.” He couldn’t keep the bitter tone out of his voice.

“Maybe Bill Wiggins can help us narrow it down.”

“I’ll be sure to check under the bridge as well.”

John threw the syringe on the ground and stormed out the door. He was going to find Sherlock and knock some sense into him.

Once out on the street, he hailed a cab. He knew exactly where to go.

***

Several hours and drug dens later, John still wasn’t any closer to finding his best friend. He scrolled through his messages to make sure he hadn’t missed one from Sherlock. Apart from texts from Mary and Greg there was nothing new. He ignored Mary’s message and opened the one from Greg. Maybe there was news. Instead it was an apology for not being able to check the bolt holes. He was called to a murder investigation.

John rubbed his face as he looked out the window of the cab. He was going to check one more address, but he was rapidly losing any hope of simply finding Sherlock in a drug den. Now that he had cooled off, he wasn’t so sure anymore. It didn’t make sense. Why had he set up a meeting for the three of them if he had no intention of showing up?

He rested his elbow on the edge of the window, biting his lip as he watched London slide by on the other side. His phone vibrated in his hand. His heart jumped to his throat as he glanced down. It was a message from Sherlock.

Meet me at Baker Street.

He leaned forward and knocked on the glass separating him from the driver.

“Never mind the last address, take me to Baker Street. 221B Baker Street.”

A comment, like or reblog for this chapter will be incredibly appreciated, since I went through all this trouble to get it to you guys on time. Next chapter is scheduled for Wednesday April 5th.

Go to next chapter.

#Fanfiction #A friend of mine #Sherlock #BBC Sherlock #John Watson #Evil Mary #Mystery #Horror #Warning: character death #warning: Mild language

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foxrun-fluffery · 5 years

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The Greatest Distance

Tag List: @sdavid09, @fallnangelcreations @sherala007 (I tried)

CHAPTER FOUR

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Dinner and a deconstruction

By the time the meat was cooked, and the potatoes mashed, Piper realized she had lost track of the dwarves milling about her property. Riordan and the three youngest were still out in the yard, having fun. Riordan had gotten Fili, Kili, and Ori into a game of tag. Through some careful chit chat with Bombur and Bilbo, she had discovered that the company had not yet encountered the trolls, but had dealt with the rain she recalled Dori referring to as a ‘deluge’ and the wizard telling Bilbo about the other four wizards. She realized the poor hobbit had little time to endear himself to the dwarves yet, aside from filling their stomachs on that first meeting. They hadn’t yet met the brown wizard, nor the elves. As she could recall, Thorin’s attitude did shift after Rivendell or Imladris, she did like the elvish name for it, but imagined the dwarves would not. Not that she would mention it, thinking it only as a passing thought.

Seeing a figure pass by the doorway, she leaned out, “Oh, Gloin! Could you please let everyone know dinner is about ready?” That certainly seemed to get him perked up and trotting quickly out the door. “Bofur, could you give me a hand with the table?” “Aye, settin’ it then?” He asked, getting up from where he had sprawled on her overly plush sofa. It was comfortable, and he was regretting that Thorin had already staked it out as his bed for their stay. While Piper had guest rooms, she said they would have to wait until she emptied the stuff she had stored in them out. For tonight the floor would do. He hurried to her side, smiling brightly up at her. Some part of his brain had always regretted the height of human females, but this time he found he didn’t mind it at all. No, even her strangely short and brightly colored hair wasn’t at all disconcerting. It fascinated him, like a cut gemstone.

“Nope, gotta put the leaf in, otherwise we’ll never fit everyone in here.” Piper quickly guided him through adding the extra sections to the table, and was rather amused by his curiosity about the extended table. She grinned as he crawled under it to inspect the mechanism, and how he watched as all of the pieces fit together. In all likelihood she had just changed the way tables were made in Middle Earth from now on. Then she went to get the dishes out, humming a little tune as she did.

“Ah, do ye sing, lass?” Bofur asked curiously, having finished his examination of her dining table, he had appeared at her side.

Piper jumped slightly, realizing she was quickly adapting to the loud steps of the dwarves she hadn’t really taken notice of him coming up on her. “Me? Ehh… not a whole lot. Mostly just lullabies for Rio, though he’s starting to outgrow them. Anymore he only wants me to sing for him when he’s sick.” Her smile was a touch sad, for she felt, as most parents did, that her little boy was growing too quickly. “He’s so independant already.” She sighed, bittersweet.

Bofur reached out to take a stack of plates from her, and he lightly set his hand on her forearm. “He’s a good lad, that boy. Ye have every right t’ be proud o’ him.”

“Growing up with just me to raise him, he’s had to learn a lot, and fast.” Piper’s expression softened under his touch, and she nodded gently. “He’s bright, he likes working with his hands, there’s a whole bunch of old tools in the shop that are his, he’s always tinkering with bits and pieces of things. My grandpa sort of hoarded everything, so Rio’s had a lot to experiment with.”

This made Bofur laugh, grinning brightly. “Aye, he’d make a great dwarf then!”

Smirking, Piper eyed him, “That’s a helluva compliment.” There was a moment, she and he held each other’s gaze. He was admiring her, and she was studying him, wondering what he thought, how she and her boy seemed to the dwarves. “With luck, anything he learns from you guys will be positive.”

“Aye!” Bofur mocked indignance, “How could it no’ be?!”

By then others were drifting in, attracted by the smell of the roasts cooking. Each member of the company was happy to lend a hand in setting the table. Though Piper wasn’t certain she appreciated their method, she wasn’t surprised by it. Claiming herself a spot out of the way, she watched her plates being tossed and flung through the air, along with the silverware. Someone, she thought it was Nori, starting humming a light tune, and soon the others were humming or wordlessly singing along. She realized they were using the beat of the song to keep track of each other’s movements. How ingenious!

Riordan had come in near the end of the table being set, Balin keeping a hand on the boy’s shoulder so he didn’t dash right into the middle of it. Still the boy clapped along and cheered when they were done. “Momma, can we set the table like that all the time?!”

Piper barked a laugh and shook her head, “No way, half-pint, I can’t afford the dishes you’d break!” With a grin, she jumped forward, sweeping the four year old up and onto her hip, tickling his ribs and making him shriek with laughter. “Okay, young man,” she set him back on the ground, hiding a wince from him. He was getting far too big to be carrying about like that. “Go wash up.”

The boy gave his typical groan, but he ran off to the bathroom to do what he was told, a few of the dwarves, and the hobbit, following suit. Some of the older or more stubbornly set in their ways ones stayed and took their seats at the table.

Piper, Bombur, and Bofur all brought trays of food over, while upon his return from washing, Bilbo managed the numerous bottles and containers, in a quick dash back and forth, of things Piper told him were condiments. He’d never seen bottles like that, nor had he heard of a few of the things she set out. Whatever “sour cream” was, though it sounded wholly unappetizing even to a hobbit, she insisted it was set on the table, along with the bacon crumbles she had cooked off, and the diced chives. He also was directed to a big bag of shredded cheese, and a bottle of “ranch dressing” as the woman told him that was the only way Riordan would eat his potatoes. That was a shocker to the little hobbit. Someone who didn’t like potatoes!?

Once they had everything set, with glasses of water, much to the disheartenment of the dwarves, everyone sat down. Thorin sat at Piper’s side, as everyone insisted she had the head of the table. Riordan naturally was at her other side, and the others filed in. Bombur was more than happy to cut the food, after giving her serving utensils a good looking over and an approving nod. Though the dwarves seemed to take their food in a rather raucous fashion, Piper insisted that Riordan use his best manners still.

Bofur, who was sitting on the other side of Riordan, reigned in his jovial eating habits to set a good example for the boy, though he did so in a playful way. Sometimes he would be so polite it was very clearly over the top, and other times he’d challenge the boy to cut his meat in certain sizes and shapes, keeping him from cramming huge mouthfuls in after he saw the look of disapproval from his mother at one particularly giant bite. At the boy’s insistence, he gave the ranch dressing a try on his potatoes and had to agree that it did make them a great deal better. However, he had bargained with the boy that he would try the ranch, if Riordan would eat chives on his potatoes.

Piper smiled, watching the dwarf and her boy, wondering for the hundredth time throughout the last four years, how life would have been different if they’d have a more normal family. But then again, normal wasn’t really their thing. She turned to Thorin, smiling pleasantly. “So, have you got everything figured out for wood cutting? I can always run in and get things we’d need.”

“We?” He mused, arching a brow at her as he chewed his roast.

“Of course! I grew up cutting wood, you don’t think I’d make you do it all yourselves!” Piper scoffed, shaking her head at him with an amused twinkle in her eyes. “I told you, I’d do what I can to help all of you here.”

Canting his head slightly, in a grateful nod, Thorin smiled. “I appreciate that. We will need your guidance to make sure we’re doing the job acceptable to the standards of this world.” He looked to his plate then and then back up, “This is a fine meal, we’re very grateful.”

Piper blushed, “Well, Bombur and Bilbo were both wonderful help getting it prepared.” She turned and found her fellow cooks at the table and smiled at them. “Bilbo is quite good with his seasonings, even I’m impressed, and I usually everyone says I’ve got a good sense for flavors.”

Bilbo’s cheeks, too, pinkened, “It’s nothing really, just some things my mother used to use when I was growing up.” He cast a warm quick look at Riordan. “I’m just happy to pass them on.”

The woman chuckled, “Oh yes, I’ve written down everything you used, I’ll be doing my best to copy it in the future.” She lifted her head a little, hearing amongst the soft and less than soft chatter at the table, someone bemoaning the lack of mead or ale. She noticed that Thorin had heard it too, and she grinned, “You know, if anyone here drank so much at every meal, they’d be written of as an alcoholic. You dwarves must have one hell of a constitution.”

The king cracked a smile, venturing even to laugh. “That we do. It’s probably best your kind do not try to keep up,” He told her with no malice, it was simply fact to him. Men could not drink like a dwarf. “We have a greater appreciation for well crafted ale, is all.”

Piper let the conversation fall for a while, as everyone filled their stomachs. She spoke up after a while, addressing the king once more. “Without risk of offending anyone, can I ask a question about dwarves? There are few details known and a number that are suspected, but we’re not certain.”

“Very well,” Thorin wiped his mouth with his napkin and sat back in his seat, his meal eaten and his stomach filled comfortably. True, all of them could eat a good deal more, but this was enough to satisfy for now. “What do you wish to know?”

“Do dwarvish braids have meaning?”

The king’s brows rose, and he was surprised that details such as that had filtered to this world. “Yes, they do. The braids and the ornamentation on them.” He motioned his own, “Mine display that I am warrior, this,” He indicated a decorated clasp behind his ear, “bears the crest of my house.” He motioned for Fili and Kili and both turned to show their own clasps that looked very much the same. “Had their father been alive, he would have made those for them. In his absence I crafted them myself.”

“And mine,” Gloin piped up then, taking cue from their leader that it was acceptable to speak about it, “Show my standing in the banker’s guild.” He motioned to the evenly spaced braids in his beard.

Dwalin puffed, his shoulders square as he held his head up with pride. “I mark my braid with victories in battle.”

“So you choose what you wear then, or is there a sort of baseline?” Piper had leaned forward, looking at each of them as they spoke, noticing their pride.

“Everyone chooses what they want to represent, what they take pride in, or what means the most to them.” Thorin explained.

Dori grinned, pointing to his youngest brother. “Ori has started his set of braids in the scholars guild.”

The young dwarf in question smiled sheepishly, and tilted his head to show the braids in his own hair and beard. “I’d like to earn a warriors braid too.”

“Oh hush you’re doing quite fine!” Dori admonished, not liking the thought of his brother in danger such as battle.

“I’m sure you’ll do great things, Ori.” Piper smiled reassuringly to him, glad to see his smile grew more confident.

“And this one,” Gloin spoke up again, “Me wife an’ I braided on our wedding day! This she crafted for me!” He showed her a slim braid that was nearly hidden in his bushy hair, and an intricately detailed bead that bound the end. “She has one I made of course.”

“That’s beautiful, Gloin. I can see she really loves you, so much detail!” Piper exclaimed, rising a little to lean across the table and see his bead clearly. She didn’t miss the way his eyes misted. “I’m sure she misses you just as much as you miss her.”

“Aye.” He said, quietly, and he ran his finger over the bead before he tucked it away into his wild hair again. Although he was misty eyed, he had a warm smile on his face, and his brother was watching him fondly, as were a few others. They all appreciated families and the like, even if most dwarves never married.

Nori caught Piper looking towards him next and he pursed his lips, clearly not sharing, yet he gave her a wink.He grinned at her smirk, seeing the determination growing in her eyes.

“I want braids!” Riordan piped up suddenly, looking around at everyone, and smiling when it started an uproarious laugh around the table.

“Maybe, if you had enough hair,” Dwalin chuckled, amused at the boy’s declaration.

The child had a very short cut, that wasn’t even uncommon among dwarven children. As much as they did like their hair, until a child was old enough to help wash, and to keep their hair from getting sticky and messy things tangled into it, short hair was not unseen. It wasn’t until a child was around eight or nine that their parents allowed their hair to grow, by then the little dwarfling was mature enough to take care of it to a degree. Their mothers still tended to the most of the care, in particular the brushing and braiding, but the children could help wash it then.

Riordan pouted, looking around at the dwarves at their table. “How long does it take to grow?” Piper chuckled, “If you wanna grow your hair out, it’ll be a while.” Knowing her boy he’d change his mind four times before it was ever long enough to do anything with. “But remember the last time your hair got long?” Riordan looked down at his plate, nodding quietly. He remembered. Oh did he remember. It had only been a couple of months ago. Thinking about it, he reached up and rubbed the side of his head. “Yeah…”

Piper caught a few curious glances and explained, “He got a sticky candy stuck in his hair when he fell asleep on it. And that’s why we had to cut his hair all off.” She chuckled, seeing her boy still pouting about it. “I think that was a lesson well learned.” Seeing everyone had just about finished up, she rose, startled when a number of them started to rise too. Ah, old fashioned manners. “Settle down boys. I’m just gonna go get us some tea.”

“Momma, can we have a soda?” Riordan asked, sounding as sweet and hopeful as he could.

“What’s soda?” Kili asked, looking from the boy to his mother.

Hearing his question, and the way the others gradually fell silent, Piper knew the dwarves behind her were all waiting for her answer. Quickly she debated a few factors, how much soda she had, and the risks of giving the dwarves caffeine.. .eh, you only live once! “Yeah, kiddo, sure.”

“Root beer floats?”

“Now you’re pushing it.” Piper laughed, shaking her head at her son and going to get the case of soda she had in the walk-in pantry. She distributed cans to the dwarves, setting one the table before each, quietly got their attention with a hand held up, then demonstrated how to pop the top on the cans. The dwarves, to her amusement, followed suit in a split second, and then there was a mixed reaction after that.

Nori, Balin, Gloin, Dwalin, Bifur, Dori, and Oin all stopped to sniff their drink first. Thorin and Bofur were both looking at Piper, though with very different expressions. Bofur seemed almost to forget he had a drink, and Thorin waited to say a polite thank you, before he raised his can to sip. The rest of the dwarves however, instantly went to chug their drinks. Most of them got the wonderful sensation of bubbles up the nose, and they stopped to clap hands over their noses, objecting in either language. And Nori gave a fine belch, but Kili outshadowed him. Riordan, feeling it was, this time, acceptable, followed suit and got a cheer from some of the dwarves for his attempt. But it was, as had happened before, Ori who won the prize. All the while, the quiet hobbit was grimacing at the belches and sipping as politely as he could, though he kept having to stop to rub his nose, looking mildly amused at the tickle.

“Mighty unusual drink, this!” Balin said, sniffling and rubbing his nose. “It’s got bubbles in it like nothing else!” He did seem to be enjoying it though. In fact, not a one of the dwarves had stopped drinking their soda for long.

“There are tons of flavors, but we just have this one right now. It’s very sugary, so we don’t drink it very often.” Piper explained. “Glad you all like it.” Then she rose to start clearing the emptied plates, but found a hand on her wrist. She looked up, surprised, at Thorin.

“Allow us. It’s very kind of you to prepare the meal, and offer your home. The least we can do is help clean up.” Thorin gave the others a pointed look, and soon Piper was privy to a clean up scene not too dissimilar to the one from a certain movie. Though, as when the table had been set, they only hummed a tune, rather than setting to a full song. Bombur, having learned how the sink worked, no longer got to polish off leftovers, but was in charge, with Bifur, of washing plates.

Riordan was sent off to wash up, as he had ranch dressing all over his face. He didn’t return, instead going to his room to play for a while, before his mother stuffed him into pajamas and sent him to bed.

Once dinner was cleaned up, for it was simply a matter of doing the dishes, as there were no leftovers at all, the dwarves settled in, sitting around the den. A few started to pull out pipes and flint, and their tobacco pouches. Only Bofur saw Piper grimace at the sight, though she didn’t actually forbid them. He looked down at his pipe in his hands that he was filling just then. Did the people here not smoke at all? “Uhm… is it… is it alright, lass, if we smoke?”

“Mmm yeah, just not on my white couch, okay? Even the best cleaners don’t get the smell out all the way.” Piper also didn’t want any pipe ash ground into the fabric. “Alright, if you guys are good for now, I should go get some more work done on this project I’ve got going. Should be a nice big payout if I can get it working, but the deadline is coming up.”

Bofur smiled kindly, nodding his head, “Best o’ luck t’ ye, lass.” He watched her as she walked out, his gaze lingering, his pipe forgotten. Until he heard a snickering from the young princes. Then he turned and saw most of the others were looking at him. “Oi! Mind yer own!” He waved them off, trying to hide the way his face heated up. “Pesky nosy lot o’ ya…”

“Oi, Nori! I didn’t get you those fancy sleeves to get them all greased up! How did you even manage that?!” Dori griped, looking at the smudges on Nori’s intricately stitched sleeves. “What did you get into to make that mess?” Nori ducked his head, looking down at his sleeves. Sure enough there was a smear or five of dark grease on them, that could almost be mistaken for orc blood, if it wasn’t for the smell. “Uh, we just looked around… kind of well… come see.” Grabbing his brother’s wrist, he pulled Dori up and out of the room to the front door. Ori, Balin, Fili, Kili, Bifur, Bombur, Oin and Gloin all followed along, either part of the guilty party, or very curious. Nori lead them to the garage beside the house, thinking it was some sort of workshop. There he pointed to some sort of deconstructed contraption. “See? We uh… well we got a little carried away.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, shuffling his feet from side to side.

“Lad… ye have to put it back t’gether.” Oin grumbled, “It wasn’t yers to take apart!”

Gloin coughed, knowing he had been a part of the trouble. “We didn’t mean to, it just looked… useful.”

Balin sighed, shaking his head, “Of course it was useful, for whatever purpose it had before!” He rolled his eyes, not to unlike what his brother might have done. “Do any of you remember how it all went together?” “I think we lost a couple of parts…” Nori admitted. “Fix this!” Balin insisted sharply. “Before the lass finds out.” He turned and headed back to the house, stroking his beard irritably. “Curious bunch of half-wits,” he mumbled as he walked back in the front door. What were they thinking!? His thoughts must have been obvious, both his brother and their king approached him.

“What have they done?” Thorin asked, his voice low as the three stood, huddled, Dwalin at his shoulder looking stern.

The elder dwarf sighed heavily, “Seems they found some machine in the workshop and have taken it apart, and lost a piece, and it seems they don’t quite know how to put it back together.”

Thorin grimaced, rubbing a hand over his face. “Balin, Dwalin, go supervise them. I’ll… talk to Piper about it.” Huffing, he turned, knowing the two brothers would be just the motivation the rest needed to fix their mess. He descended the basement stairs and followed the short hallway to the room he saw a light in and knocked, then he heard her call to him, so he opened the door. He wasn’t sure what she was doing, she was curled up in a chair, in front of a flat slab that stood upright on a stand, tapping away at a panel of little buttons. “Piper?”

“Mmm just one second okay? Kinda… middle of… numbers….” She typed away furiously, trying to remember the sequence as she entered it. Not realizing she had just asked the heir to the crown of Erebor, the wandering king of the dwarves, to wait for her.

The heir in question didn’t mind at all, he was looking around the room, studying everything. There were a ton of electronics, which he didn’t recognize of course, and schematics on the walls to great vessels, but by the design he couldn’t comprehend how they could float on water. What even was a turbolift or a power nacelle? This Enterprise vessel was a strange one. Then there were pictures in frames. They were so clear he almost expected them to come alive. But there was Piper, Riordan, and a number of people who looked similar to them by their features, so he guessed they were her family. He found himself looking closely at them, smiling when he could see they were clearly enjoying themselves in each picture. Nowhere were there any formal portraits, but daily life images, smiles and fun and memories. It made his heart happy to see such things, but at the same time he ached for the dwarves lost when Erebor fell, and the hardships that fell upon them after. There were few smiles and happy memories made then. He quietly prayed to Mahal, not certain his prayers would be heard, that this kind woman and her precious son would never face such hardships.

“Oh! Thorin! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you wait!” Piper turned her chair to look at him, blinking owlishly. “Is something wrong? You okay? Do you guys need anything?” She rose and crossed the distance to his side, eyes wide and searching his face.

Holding his hands up, Thorin shook his head, missing the way Piper’s eyes traveled to watch his hair sway. “No, nothing is wrong… well, that is not entirely true. It seems that some of my company have gotten a little out of hand, and I have come to apologize.” He sighed when she only seemed confused, “They found a machine in your workshop… and have taken it apart. I have ordered them to reassemble it, but they seem yet uncertain as to whether or not they can.”

“Workshop…? Oh my garage! Uh… there’s just a snowblower and a lawnmower in there… huh.” She frowned, thinking about if she could afford to replace either right now. Probably not. But they had very little lawn, as most of the ground around them was pine needles and natural growth. She only maintained enough lawn for Riordan to play on. Her mother had done more, but she seemed to like the natural approach better. Hopefully they hadn’t taken the snowblower apart. That she needed. “Well, if they can’t I’m sure I can find a repairman who can.” With a shrug she smiled. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty easy going. Things happen, life goes on. Getting all twisted about it doesn’t help anyone.”

Thorin stood, staring at her for a moment, before one of his handsome smiles spread on his face. “If only more people had your heart, Lady Piper.” He grunted when she thumped him on the shoulder. “My apologies, Piper. Just, Piper.”

Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes. “Damn majestic dwarf.”

“Majestic?” He queried, sounding far too amused. “You think I’m majestic?”

Piper laughed, grinning at him. “Well, it’s probably the most used term to describe you that I’ve noticed.” She looked over at her photo wall that he’d been admiring. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I thought you knew of us already,” He countered, raising a brow as he watched her face.

She shrugged in that lopsided way she had. “I do, sort of. I mean, I know the major facts, but not the little details. Tell me about you, Thorin. Not Thorin Oakenshield, the great warrior, the crowned prince, but tell me about Thorin, the m--dwarf. Do you have anything you enjoy doing? Hobbies, interests, dirty little secrets?”

Thorin laughed then, “It would only be fair if you shared with me the same.” His blue eyes were lit with a mischief that he rarely let show. But she had a way of drawing that out in people, it seemed. He found a low-set overstuffed chair and sat in it, while she returned to her desk. They chatted for roughly two hours before she finished her work and had to go up to put Riordan to bed. There was a big smile on her face, that none of the other dwarves missed.

“Had a good time?” Fili asked in a teasing tone of his uncle as the older dwarf joined them, taking his spot on the sofa.

“Mind your tongue. We simply spoke.” Thorin reprimanded him lightly. “Our hostess is quite interesting.” He didn’t see behind him, that Bofur was studying his boots, making certain to meet no one’s gaze. It was a sickening feeling twisting in his gut, he wanted to jump up and scream at their king, but he couldn’t. He wanted to run and find Piper and find out all of these interesting things for himself, but he couldn’t. Instead he grabbed his blanket, pulled his hat down over his eyes and curled up on his spot to sleep, even if it was early. He didn’t feel like being a part of the world right at the moment.

Bifur and Bombur shared a glance, knowing that was unlike their Bofur to act that way, but they understood it. Bombur sighed, and sat back, puffing on his pipe, while he watched Bifur measuring a block of wood he had hewn from the oak outside. He wondered what sort of toy his cousin would craft, as Bifur wasn’t telling anyone just yet.

Eventually the group came in from outside, claiming they had the machine mostly put back together, or so they thought. And they would finish in the morning, as a couple of them were starting to nod off while working. After another hour, Piper had come to bid those who were still awake sweet dreams, and she went off to bed herself, promising the dwarves and hobbit they could have baths tomorrow. Bilbo seemed the most pleased by this.

#Tale Teller’s Plot Bunny Challenge 2019 #TheGreatestDistance #TheHobbit #Bofur #Bombur #Fic #Thorin #Bifur #OC #etc etc etc

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