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cilil · 1 year

Note

Hi! I was hoping to request "Knotting" from the Spicy Bingo sheet with Mairon x reader please! I'm so feral for him

Author's Note: Sorry these are taking a while - last week was fairly stressful and I keep making them longer as originally intended. Oh well; thanks for the prompt and I hope you enjoy this one!♡

ೃ♡⁀➷ Spicy Bingo: Knotting + Mairon x reader ৎ୭

And there you are, on his bed, caught like a helpless deer in a werewolf's jaws. The hunter becoming a greater hunter's prey.

ৎ୭ Synopsis: You, a former Maia of Oromë, are tasked to take care of the werewolves in Tol-in-Gaurhoth together with Mairon; until your calm routine is unexpectedly interrupted when you experience your first heat.

ৎ୭ Featuring: female Maia!reader, 2nd person POV, heat, knotting, cunnilingus (female receiving), somewhat rough sex (but very much consensual), biting, bit of breeding kink

ৎ୭ Oneshot (~1.2k)

"My, my, what do we have here..."

You squirm on the wolf pelt laid out on your fellow Maia's bed, nervously pressing your legs together as he scrutinises you. Sneaking into his room was a foolish idea, you knew it in advance, yet you were unable to help yourself; his smell is simply too enticing. It is in moments like these that you curse your nature as a Maia of beasts and hunting.

Your first master was Oromë and you used to hunt with his hounds until the fateful day Lord Melkor found you and promised you a stronger pack and all the prey you wanted in return for your service, an offer too good to refuse; and now you take care of his werewolves alongside Mairon, your superior. While he watches over the tower and surrounding area and spies on your enemies, you feed and train the wolves, often assuming their shape–which you led to your current predicament.

Not only have you grown accustomed to wolfish mannerisms, but certain parts of their nature have begun to affect your fána. A strange, heated sensation took hold of you a couple of days ago, soon followed by a sticky feeling between your legs and a deep, inexplicable yearning for relief. By the time you realised what was happening, it was already too late. You tried hiding in your chambers and taking care of yourself, but nothing worked; especially not after you found one of Mairon's forge gloves, brought to you by an especially affectionate werewolf, and caught a whiff of his scent.

Oh, his scent. One that immediately made your knees feel weak and feral thoughts consume your mind, one that kept beckoning you until you couldn't resist any longer–

And there you are, on his bed, caught like a helpless deer in a werewolf's jaws. The hunter becoming a greater hunter's prey.

Golden, cat-like eyes stare at you from the darkness as Mairon comes closer to investigate, and you see his nose twitch when he inhales your scent. A smirk appears on his lips.

"Oh you poor little thing..." he drawls and sits down on the bed next to you, placing a hand on your thigh. The small gesture alone causes you to let out a whine and lean into his touch.

"It seems like you are in heat," he observes, direct as always, and starts stroking your leg with an appreciative glint in his eyes.

"Y-you think so?" you ask; it's a possibility you have considered before, but attempted to deny.

"Well... let me see."

Mairon pushes the skirt of your dress up to your hips and spreads your legs with quick, efficient movements, finding your panties soaked with your juices. You avert your gaze in shame, but can't help watching him from the corner of your eye, only to realise–he's looking pleased?

"So needy," he purrs and inches closer to greedily inhale more of your sweet scent. His pupils dilate. "Do you want me to take care of you, my precious little wolf?"

You nod in response. Part of you wants to keep denying what is happening to you and return to your chambers, but every other sensation is eclipsed by your mounting need for your fellow Maia and what you know he can give to you.

Nimble hands pull down your panties, and you spread your legs instinctively, presenting your wet, glistening folds to him like a delicate rose given to a lover. Mairon wastes no time leaning forward to bury his face between your legs and you feel his warm, rough tongue caress your sensitive skin shortly after. Long nails dig into your thighs when he pushes them apart further, groaning softly as he tastes your essence.

You can sense how your heat is beginning to affect the other Maia as well and you are more than happy to offer yourself to him. His tongue pushes between your folds with increasing urgency, alternating between swirling around your swollen clit and eating you out as if he was enjoying a delicious meal. You can feel subtle shifts in his fána, elongating the pink muscle to reach deeper inside you and fill you completely.

You taste so good... you hear Mairon whispering in your mind and cry out in pleasure while rocking your hips against him.

"Please, my lord... take me, I need–" you whine and helplessly paw at his copper locks.

He raises his head, a wicked smile on his face, and slowly licks his wet lips clean.

"Demanding today, are we? You are truly fortunate that you smell so delicious..." Mairon croons and sits up, looming over you like a werewolf about to pounce on its prey. The flames in the fireplace behind him seem to flare up and bathe the outline of his fána in a fiery glow.

He is beautiful like this, majestic and imposing, causing another twinge of desire within your lower body.

"On all fours. And undress," Mairon commands. His countenance appears as calm as always, yet the darkening of his eyes betrays his own feral instincts threatening to take over.

You scramble to obey him, yet as soon as you are on your hands and knees, presenting your backside to him, he shoots forward with the precision of an experienced hunter and seizes your neck to push your face down into the sheets below. Your cry of surprise is followed by a loud moan when he swiftly frees his cock, pulling down his pants just enough to penetrate you with a single thrust.

Your mind becomes wonderfully blank. The world around you seems to dissolve into a blur of sounds and colours until all that remains is the blissful sensation between your legs, being filled with Mairon's cock and feeling him thrusting in and out of your helplessly dripping cunt. He fucks you with nigh animalistic ferocity, growling in your ear as he leans over you and bites the side of your neck and shoulder–marks that you will bear for a while, you realize despite the fog of lust clouding your mind, and the thought excites you.

You feel your mouth fall open, but you can't tell if you're begging for more or simply moaning into the silken sheets. Mairon's grip on you tightens and you feel something swelling at the base of his cock, eliciting more cries of pleasure from you. He's going to breed you like your fána craves so badly, provide you with his seed and his knot, and you let out a sob of relief, knowing your burning need will finally be satisfied.

Mairon buries himself inside you with one final thrust and holds you in place as his release washes over him. His knot ensures not a single drop of cum he spills is wasted, filling you to the brim. You whimper, exhausted after days of heat and being fucked with such vigor, and yearn to simply collapse on your fellow Maia's bed and rest, yet your fánar are still tied together.

Sensing your discomfort, Mairon wraps his arms around you and carefully lays you down on your side, following every movement so his knot doesn't hurt you.

"We will have to stay like this a while longer," he says and pulls you close.

All you can do is nod and a small smile appears on your lips. You don't mind the idea of falling asleep in his warm embrace, feeling his strong fána holding yours while you recover from your heat.

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @singleteapot

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eriexplosion · 3 months

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Time for everything to go downhill, rapidly, with Tipping Point.

God I remember how stoked and then terrified I was to see Howzer, every second the man's on screen I'm utterly terrified that he's going to get killed.

This place looks great, real vacation spot.

GREGOR <3 ECHO <3 God the wait time to see Echo again was so long I feel aggressive Missing Them just remembering it.

This is just a fantastic opening, watching this tiny ass group strategically take out basically everyone on this ship. It's nice to see Echo get a chance to shine too, their leadership skill gets underutilized sometimes but they are SO GOOD AT THIS.

Nemec and Fireball have amazing armor, I just love the look.

There goes our Random Imperial Dude, electrocuting himself to death. Where do they get these regular dudes that are totally willing to bite an electricity chip or whatever for the like one year old Empire?

MT TANTISS. CROSSHAIR.

I still love the moment when they shove him just a little too hard and he turns around and you are aggressively reminded he is 6'4".

Tol

If season 3 wants me to like Emerie they will have to work pretty hard at it after she helps torture Crosshair.

Hemlock is SO fucking creepy, but also Crosshair catches on quick to what's going on.

What a great second use of the highly emphasized "Wrong" though, completely different from the last season finale.

The squelching sound of the needle going in and seeing him twitching while Hemlock casually talks, god this is horrifying already, love how it manages to get worse next time we see him.

God though, what did Howzer go through to lose five of his men in prison? You would think they'd at least want to keep their potential test subjects alive, but maybe Hemlock only wants the Strongest ones.

GOD SEEING CROSSHAIR'S EYES ROLL BACK WHEN WE GO BACK TO HIM

Shout out to Emerie and this guard for double teaming the dumbass behavior of leaving one of his wrists loose AND putting a gun next to him like what did you think was going to happen?

Mention of the Hounds which I think we see one of in the trailer, excited to see Omega befriend a doggo that is supposed to kill

I know the implication is that Crosshair recognized another clone and that's why he didn't shoot Emerie but I like to think that it was because she reminded him in that moment of Tawni Ames.

God seeing him essentially give up his one chance at even trying to escape in order to send that message, he gave up everything for his batch, and for Omega, and he absolutely assumed that he would die in there after they took him back. I don't want to see Crosshair sacrifice anything else he has been through ENOUGH.

Hemlock and the toxin is creepy as hell too. I HATE THIS MAN. WORST CREATURE ALIVE.

OFF TO THE BRIGHT AND HAPPY WORLD OF PABU

This scene with Wrecker is adorable he's settling in SO WELL. An integral part of this community!

Shep once again laying out the thematic line of the story with "Is that all you are? A soldier?"

I LOVE THE FLYING LESSONS THEY'RE HILARIOUS, TECH IS ABOUT TO HAVE A FUCKING HEART ATTACK.

The collision alarms haven't gone off once! (Because they shorted out during your last lesson)

I forgot that Tech literally lays out his ability to think clearly in stressful situations (like plummeting out of the sky while attached to a tram car?) season 2 is literally just a parade of reasons that Tech is really hard to kill.

THE TECH TURN. If this doesn't come back in particular I'll be surprised.

OMEGA IS SO HAPPY TO SEE ECHO BACK and Tech's happiness is delayed due to the race to the landing zone.

THE HUG. I remember when a blurry screenshot of Omega hugging Echo sustained us for WEEKS.

Hemlock really out here just DESPERATE for test subjects.

Wrecker chasing the girls around the tree, god he fits so well here I'm EMOTIONAL.

God Tech's face when he says Crosshair is one of the prisoners gets me every time.

Back again to torture Crosshair, because he isn't suffering enough apparently.

Hemlock needs to stop getting in close to Crosshair's FACE.

THE FACT THAT CROSSHAIR IS ACTUALLY SCARED HERE. TEARS IN HIS EYES WHILE WE HAVE TO WATCH SPASM AND MAKE HORRIBLE NOISES.

Cannot believe that Crosshair is the unlucky bitch that has to go through the first onscreen use of the torture droid.

#the bad batch rewatch

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imakemywings · 1 year

Text

This Shadow will not Endure

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Characters: Amarie, Finrod

Summary: For the first time since Finrod's rebirth in Aman, he and Amarie are intimate.

Rating: E

Length: 5.4k

AO3 | Pillowfort

___________________________________________________

There were times still that Finrod struggled to anchor himself in the moment. Moments when it felt he was watching or hearing things happening to someone else, not to himself. In the worst of these moments, he could hear instead the echo of Sauron’s voice in the back of his mind like nails scraping through his flesh, feel the coarse weight of chains against his wrists, feel the wetness of his men’s blood against his hands; in these moments, he flailed mentally to grip something present to reassure himself that he was not still a prisoner of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, simply being tormented with a vision of peace he would never know again. In the less extreme, he felt only adrift, curiously watching a scene play out in front of him without actually being a part of it.

He had a sense Amarië was beginning to draw on this. She had a knack for touching his hand whenever he was sitting or standing there, nodding along, appearing—or doing his best to appear—attentive, while his mind distanced itself from what was going on around him.

“Ingoldo?” she said, her fingers delicate against the back of his hand. He experienced these things: first, the touch of Amarië’s hand, breaking through the fog around him; second, the sound of her voice, suddenly clear where before it had been as if spoken through a door; last, the rustle of the leaves beyond the window, drawing him back into the world as if he had been holding his breath but now drew in again.

“Yes?” he said, refraining from shaking his head, as if that would make his voice sound more like his own.

“What are you thinking of?” she asked. Atya had called him “distracted.” He didn’t mean it badly—and it was true. But it felt like such a light word for the preoccupations of Finrod’s mind, even now, years out from his return to Aman.

Finrod observed the room.

Amarië’s front room faced the garden with wide windows and the flowering bushes she had planted outside offered just enough privacy from passers-by; the sunlight filtered through the playfully waving leaves to throw dappled shadows over the front room floor, reaching up to where they sat on the couch to speckle their feet and illuminate the side of her face nearest to the window, lighting up the port wine mark that darkened nearly half her face. On the shelves were a mix of Amarië’s things and gifts from friends—if he had cared to, Finrod was sure he could have placed certain gifts with certain friends merely by the mark of their particular artistry. Behind him, behind the side door that connected Amarië’s apartment to the rest of the house, where dwelt her parents, along with her older brother and his husband, the rest of the family was being too quiet to hear. The room was warm, almost perfectly so—he felt entirely comfortable in his light robes.

“You,” he said. A smile twitched on Amarië’s lips. Today she was dressed in pale pinks and yellows, which complemented her complexion and made him think of the tulip beds laid out around the Fountain of Falling Stars downtown.

“I am interested,” he insisted, looking at her once more. “Tell me again.”

“Oh no, it was dull enough to go through it the first time,” she laughed. “Even I don’t care to share it again. Suffice to say one of my friends is terribly upset about nothing, but it will pass quickly.”

There was a moment then when he looked at her and debated pressing the issue, insisting she should share anyway, while Amarië considered whether to press the issue of his distraction and insist he tell her what he was really thinking about.

“Do you remember that time we went camping with Turukáno and Elenwë?” she asked instead, and was rewarded with the smile that tugged at Finrod’s lips.

“I assume you mean the time Elenwë got us lost? How could I forget?” he said.

“The same way you forgot the cover to our tent, I imagine,” said Amarië, which earned her a deeply wounded and awfully exaggerated look.

“The weather was supposed to be clear,” he said, as he had said all night through the hail as they huddled the four of them in a tent made for two. “Do you remember how you traded places with Elenwë in the night?”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” she exclaimed. “I only got up in the night and she must have rolled over when I was out…I do remember Turukáno’s face when he woke up in the morning holding me instead of her!” They both laughed and Amarië felt something light and tight in her chest at what seemed to her to be the clearing of clouds off Finrod’s face.

“I do think if it had been anyone but you, that response would have been quite a bit more energetic,” Finrod snickered. Amarië never would have been so well-acquainted with Turgon but for Finrod’s bringing them together so often.

“I think the tent might’ve taken a tumble. You and Elenwë could’ve been more help,” she pointed out, as she had before.

“We thought you two could sort it out,” Finrod said with a smile closer to the loose, easy manner he used to carry before the sky had gone dark. But just as readily, there slipped into his gaze a drop of sorrow that had not been there before and Amarië’s heart sank. Mentioning Turgon was always a gamble—Finrod delighted in memories of his oldest and dearest friend, a cousin who was like a brother to him, but he also grieved their long separation and that he no longer knew Turgon’s fate in Middle-earth. She shifted nearer to him on the couch, laying a hand on his leg, crooked under him so they could sit facing each other.

“I haven’t been camping in quite a while now,” she hinted.

“Perhaps we should go,” he said.

“While the weather is nice!” she agreed.

“The weather is always nice here,” Finrod said with a faint chuckle that was somehow wearier she would have otherwise expected. He fell silent and Amarië took his hand and rubbed it between her fingers. He squeezed her fingers in response and after a moment, his gaze returned to her. He reached out and smoothed a few loose strands of hair back behind her ear and Amarië caught this hand too, and turned to press a kiss against his palm.

“Only if you wish to go,” she said. “There are many things for us to rediscover here; I would not be terribly picky.”

“Neither would I,” he said, feeling his heartbeat more acutely at the touch of her lips. “I will go anywhere you like.” As long as I am permitted, he didn’t add. He didn’t need to—not when his own mother was still avoiding him on the basis of the slaughter at the Swanhaven. No one in Valmar or Alqualondë wanted to see him; a great many in Tirion didn’t either, but they didn’t have the option to refuse him entry, certainly not when Finarfin sat the throne of the high king.

“Always so accommodating,” said Amarië with a playful smile, leaning in nearer. “And if I wished to remain right where we are? Right here?” She watched his expression.

“Then I would wish to remain here as well,” he said, curling his fingers around her hand. He wanted to say he would always prefer to be where she was, but it seemed like a hollow sentiment after he’d spent nearly six hundred years apart from her by his own choice. So he said nothing.

“Good,” said Amarië, and she kissed him.

They had kissed since he had been home—since they had realized neither of them had ever moved to break their engagement—but it had not gone much further than that. Finrod’s recovery had been a slow process and neither of them wished to rush anything, and there were moments he simply found being touched at all intolerable. He hated that—hated that Sauron even now could make his skin crawl at the touch of his beloved.

Now, though—now Amarië’s kiss chased away the last of the shadows muddying the edges of his mind and he leaned into it, breathing in with delight the smell of her hair and the perfumes she wore. She had no plans to make it a quick affair either—she moved nearer, pushing him back against the seat of the couch so they were clumsily piled half on top of each other, and her mouth parted against his. He opened too, readily welcoming her and one hand moved up to brush over her face and delve back into her strawberry blonde hair, though he made an effort not to make a mess of her braids.

When finally she drew back for air, she gazed down at him and Finrod felt tremulous: as though she made him into some delicate, wobbly thing which could be crushed with no effort at all. He wanted to throw himself at her; he wanted to hide under a quilt; he wanted to stop feeling that his emotions were some runaway cart perpetually out of his control.

“My sunshine boy,” she said softly, stroking his cheek. This was something new—she had not had the notion of sunshine before, when the had been first engaged. It would have been more appropriate then, he thought with chagrin. But before he could let these doubts dig in, Amarië was kissing him again and he made a sound in his throat like an animal whimper. Amarië pressed closer to him, warm and heavy on top of him and he gripped her waist to keep her there until she shivered and he could feel that she was becoming aroused.

“Amarië,” he started when they broke apart again, catching their breath, their lips flushed and swollen.

“Yes?” she said. Finrod looked stupidly at her, wondering what the devil he had meant to say, if anything. He was grateful these days for a single thought in his head he could put to words. Was it out of place to tell her he wanted her never to let go of him again (impracticalities aside, of course)?

“I missed you,” he said at last. Amarië’s face broke into a smile.

“I missed you too, silly thing,” she replied, and when she pounced on him again he surged up to meet her, heat welling up in his gut and sinking lower. Amarië shifted again and he pulled her to straddle one of his legs, where he could clearly feel her growing hard. She drew her knee up further and Finrod could not help but moan as she brushed against his groin. Amarië responded by pressing down more against his hip and he nipped at her lower lip, aching, aching.

“Findaráto,” she said breathlessly and the sound made him throb; he grabbed the back of her head and dragged her into another kiss; if she had something that must be said, she would have to make more of an effort—but apparently she did not, for she simply sank greedily into his kiss.

He was present, he was here; there were no voices; there were no sounds but his own increasingly desperate noises of arousal and Amarië’s heavy breathing; there was nothing but her hands on his chest, and—and—

Amarië’s hand had found its way between his legs and he gasped sharply as she palmed against him, unable to control the instinctive jerking of his hips towards her hand. It felt—perhaps it was an effect of the Halls?—it felt as if it had been lifetimes since anyone had touched him. Encouraged by this response, Amarië wriggled her hand down the front of his undershorts and drew out his cock, stroking him breathless, turning him incoherent with half-stifled whines and whimpers.

“Amarië,” he implored, for what he didn’t know. “Amarië.” He was shivering. “Oh.”

“Do you want me to?” she asked softly. She had not offered up ‘til then; she had wished to let him take everything at his own pace, once she had seen how delicate he was on his return.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, yes, please. I need you.” That he felt bone-deep, as if for that moment, she was the only thing holding him together. Her hand stilled and she fell on him in another kiss; Finrod pulled her firmly into his lap and her weight on him was something divine; how could he think about anything else now? “Do you have…?”

“I do,” she panted, drawing back. “But not here; I haven’t locked the side door.”

This revelation resulted in Finrod immediately snapping his head around as if Amarië’s mother and father were like to burst through the door at once, and Amarië laughed.

“Remembering our close calls?” she teased.

“Do not make me think of that now,” he reprimanded her feebly, with no desire to relive young adulthood and the handful of times his up-until-then flawless image in the eyes of her parents had nearly been shattered by catching them necking somewhere in the house. Not that it had been much prior to their engagement, but still. Finrod, as a prince of the Noldor, had an image to uphold (a notion all the more bitterly amusing now).

“Come on,” she said, rising to her feet and pulling him along after. He pinned her against the wall near her bedroom door and kissed her senseless; Amarië put her hand between his legs again and he couldn’t stop himself from rutting into her touch, his face flushed, ready to fuck her hand if she would let him; he was not in a position to be choosy. If she wasn’t careful, he was going to finish before they got to do anything more.

But Amarië, this time, had the more sense of the two of them, and herded him into her room (and locked the door) before she started peeling his clothes off like he was a particularly delectable kind of fruit. Her hands roamed over his ribs, his chest, his shoulders; he wanted to press her fingers through his flesh and wrap them around his heart. Instead, he got to work on the fastenings of her robe, making relatively rote work of undressing her. For a moment then they just stood and looked at each other, as if walking onto a long-remembered road and trying to recall exactly where to go. Finrod was relieved that his hands did not tremble when he reached for her; when his hands slid over her pert little breasts and cupped them; when his lips met her throat, her neck, her collarbone; when he drew her against him and felt her squirm with her growing arousal it felt so simple, so easy: easier than walking through the front door on his first day back in Tirion.

One hand slid down over her hip to stroke her, rewarded with her hot hardness in his hand, with the way she twitched into his touch with a soft noise of satisfaction, a kind of sigh, as if she was receiving something she had been waiting for, leaning just a touch against him until he let go of her.

“Look at you,” he sighed, drawing his fingers from her throat down to her bellybutton. “Many wonders have I seen the world over, and all would I trade for a last look at you.”

“Then sound a little more joyful about it,” she teased, scratching at the nest of brown curls around the base of him. “Or have I not earned a portion of your joy?”

That brought a wry smile to his lips.

“I am duly chastised,” he said. “My joy in Valinor has most often its source in you. Let me make it up to you.” His hands moved almost reverently down her sides, then back to her ass, to squeeze and pull her nearer; he wanted to trace over every inch of her with fingers and lips and tongue, but he knew he would not last long enough for that, not now.

We have time, he reminded himself forcefully. We have time, we have time.

“Lay down,” Amarië instructed, pushing him back towards the bed.

She got the oil from where it was tucked coquettishly behind various creams and perfumes on top of her dresser and took in the sight of her beloved on the bed, Finrod the Fair, all golden hair and golden limbs and a shadow in his eyes she had never known before his return. She wanted to shout it away; to chase it out of this space that should be theirs, that should be sacred, and not a shelter for Finrod’s torments.

He had not told her how he’d died, not yet. Only that it involved a promise he refused to break.

She was gentle with her fingers; she was always gentle, and Finrod could weep about it (and once, when he’d been drunk, he had). Nevertheless, she was quick, guessing correctly she could not string him out much at all that day. Even so, he was writhing impatiently on the bed as subtly as he could manage by the time she got herself in position. (She knew him well enough to recognize both his impatience and when he was trying to hide it.)

“Are you ready?” she asked and he nodded quickly, looking up at her with those big brown doe-eyes for which she’d been weak since she was ten years old. There was a helpless vulnerability in him there, like he would not or could not hide that he was putting himself so much into her hands; it was a kind of courage, she supposed, but she and Finrod had always made these gestures so easy between them it had never seemed to stand out before.

Amarië smiled and took his hand and kissed his fingers, and then she entered him. Slow, slow, even though she had prepared him for this, because it had been a long time for him, and she didn’t want even a hint of pain. Her breathing grew labored and she restrained herself to the pace she had set; she had forgotten how good it felt to be inside him. She didn’t know if there was something particular about Finrod’s body, or if it was just that her affection for him rendered her particularly sated by his hröa. Looking at his face didn’t make it easier to control herself: he had a knit between his brows and his blush streaked vividly across his cheekbones and he was making these tiny noises as she pressed in like she was cracking him apart at the seams. When she bottomed out he let out a moan, reaching up to bite on his knuckle and Amarië drew in a quick breath, her fingers twisting up in the sheets.

“Alright?” she checked. “Are you ready?” Finrod made a high-pitched wordless whine and nodded, his hips twitching, his cock flushed and achingly hard. “Do you want this?”

“Please,” Finrod begged, a slight arch in his back as if he could urge her deeper. She leaned down to kiss him and he gasped at the pressure of her weight on his need; she swallowed that noise into her kiss and stroked his thigh.

“I’ve got you,” she promised softly, drawing back enough to look down into those warm brown eyes.

Finrod gave a shaky nod and cupped her cheek and gave her a quick kiss.

“I’ve got you too,” he murmured. She let them stay that way a moment, putting aside the animal need whining in her flesh, before she repositioned and began to thrust into him. The breaking cry that Finrod let out at that first thrust made her dizzy and she had to fight the urge to move faster, harder. She kept it slow and deep for now, and it seemed to be right, for Finrod was shuddering apart already, whimpering and moaning under his breath, his hips jerking clumsily up against hers.

“Do I need to make you turn over, Ingoldo?” she teased when his juddering motions interrupted her rhythm. He only gazed wide-eyed up at her and she kissed him gently, raking her nails lightly down his chest. “No, I would see your face today,” she declined quietly, stroking his cheek. She kissed him again and picked up her movement until Finrod was gripping the sheets as if trying not to fall from a great height, his breathing coming trembling and uneven, his cock leaking as desperate little noises spilled endlessly past his lips.

The world was Amarië and her sparkling eyes and the wobble of her breasts and her cock striking at his core again and again and her hand caressing—on his thigh, on his hip, his chest, his shoulder. The whole of Eä was condensed into how she looked at him as if—as if—as if she were in love still, even now, with him as he was. Without warning, Finrod climaxed, punctuated with short little gasps as pleasure rolled over him in shockwaves, leaving him limp and dazed on the bed.

Amarië thrust a few more times, but she saw how he flinched at this contact, over-sensitive now that he had finished, and she pulled out, using her hand instead. Finrod pushed himself up with one hand, and the other curled over hers, so together they brought her off until she too, spilled her seed across his belly with a low moan. The room was filled with the sound of their panting.

Amarië leaned in and kissed Finrod back down onto the mattress and then curled up against his side, laying her head on his chest.

“I will tell you,” she sighed, “my dreams did not recollect you nearly as well as I imagined they did.” They’d made rather a mess of dear Finrod, but she made no move to peel away from him to trouble herself with any cleaning; the sound of Finrod’s heartbeat was a blanket pulled around her shoulders she had been too long without. She rested a hand against his sternum, her thumb stroking the warmth of his skin.

There was a noise he made, which wasn’t quite right, and she knew it at once, before the shudder went through him and his breathing changed, so when she pushed herself up on one elbow and saw that he was crying, she was alarmed, but not surprised.

“Findaráto?” she asked, at once all anxiety and trying not to show it too much. “Did I hurt you?” she fretted. Choked, Finrod shook his head vigorously, covering his mouth with one hand.

“No,” he whispered, strained. “I—no, you did nothing wrong.” He struggled upright, wiping aggressively at his eyes. “I don’t know—I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” she exclaimed. “Is—is something wrong?” The question made her feel like an idiot, when Finrod was in tears in her bed; her stomach twisted in the way it did when she stepped off the stairs thinking there was one more step than there was. It was the first time they had—since he had been back and—Eru, had she been awfully, awfully selfish? Amarië reached out to touch his back, and then thought maybe Finrod would not want to be touched by her then and drew back.

“I should apologize,” she said softly. “Perhaps it was too soon for this.”

“No!” Finrod burst out, rubbing his forearm against his eyes like he could scrub the tears away. “I wanted this. I wanted this with you.” He looked over at her, glassy-eyed, with that worried furrow between his eyes she saw too often anymore and a tightness in his jaw.

“Still,” she said, carefully placing a hand on his arm. “Perhaps we were…too eager.” Finrod shook his head again, breathing slowly and deliberately, trying to regain a semblance of calm. “Do you want to talk about it?” she suggested after a moment.

“I can’t!” The frustration in his voice struck at her heart. “I don’t understand. Everything was fine—it was—but then—” He made a wordless sound of aggravation and doubled over, covering his eyes with his hands.

This time Amarië did put her hand on his back, rubbing between his shoulder blades. It rent her heart: her sunshine, her daffodil, her shoot of Laurelin to be so aggrieved and bowed with woe and haunted by phantoms and ghoulish memories she couldn’t begin to understand. Sliding an arm around him, Amarië leaned against his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay, Ingoldo.” She stroked his hair awkwardly from her position and kissed his bare shoulder. “I’ve got you.” When they had paused there a few moments, she said: “Why don’t we lie down a while, hm?” She scratched her nails lightly over his back and re-arranged the pillows so she could lay comfortably back against the headboard, then gestured him over. Finrod lay down alongside her, head somewhere between her chest and her shoulder, and she carded her fingers through his thick golden waves. Frustration and embarrassment lingered in Finrod’s silence. She was not used to his having things to be embarrassed about around her.

“Tell me something about Endor?” she said. This was a prompt she used often when he lapsed into brooding silence or wistful looks; if she had to guess, she would say he was homesick. He had a whole (growing) journal of notes on his time there, for a purpose he had not yet revealed, perhaps on which he had not yet decided. It pleased her to see him with a project; it was good to have his mind focused on something.

Finrod considered her question as he usually did, careful in his selected response. Amarië guessed he painted a very pretty picture of Middle-earth—she did not understand, how he could speak so lovingly of a place which had left him shattered into so many pieces. But maybe she didn’t need to understand—maybe it was enough to listen.

“In many places in Endor, there are four seasons, very distinct and much harsher than here,” he said at last. “In winter, most of the plants die and many animals go to sleep—” There was no word for ‘hibernation’ in Quenya, “—during the coldest parts. There is snow, sometimes many feet deep even away from the mountains, and it falls like a blanket so that when you walk outside, the world feels almost silent. You must rely on stockpiled food or you will be very hungry. It is a time of danger for mortals especially, as they are more susceptible to cold than we are. Every year many of them will perish. So when the weather warms and spring comes, and the plants and animals return, there is much rejoicing. The peoples of Middle-earth, particularly the Atani and Quendi, have many celebrations for the changing of the seasons, and we did not wonder why, when we had seen them for ourselves.”

“You liked spring there, then?”

“I liked all the seasons,” said Finrod. “Each of them has its own risks, but also its own beauty. I liked to ride out into the woods during the winter and see the snow-laden branches of the trees and the places where ice covered the river. I liked coming back to sit by the fire and have mulled wine and take stock of our reserves.” He snuggled against her and she felt their combined fluid wet against her side. He did not say that he disliked traveling more than a few miles from home or over the plains in winter where the snow seemed to stretch out endlessly or staying out until his toes grew numb because of what it made him remember. He did not mention Elenwë then.

Amarië scratched her nails against his scalp, cradling his head against her.

“I wish I could have seen it,” she said honestly. Finrod hesitated.

“There is much in Endor I would have shared with you,” he said softly. “But there is much else I am glad you never had cause to suffer.”

“Still,” she murmured, and they both lay unhappy in their choices. Finrod’s arm tightened over her and he pressed his face against her breast and Amarië held him closer. Then he said:

“You should not have waited for me.”

Once, she would have said she had a good guess at what was going on in Finrod’s head at any given moment. Not for certain, for no one could ever be certain of Finrod’s mind but Finrod himself, and he had more control over himself than most gave him credit for. At times now she felt she grasped at that closeness, but too often it felt there was a shade between them and sometimes it seemed to her that he was crying out to her about something she couldn’t hear.

But her thoughts on this particular statement were the same no matter what had brought it on.

“Findaráto,” she sighed, “I am sick to death of being told what I should and shouldn’t do, so don’t you start. I have made my choices, the good and the bad, and I will live with them as I may. You worry about your own choices. And,” she added, “if you think my parents did not already make a titanic effort to convince me to put you aside and choose another betrothal elsewhere, you are as optimistic as anyone has ever given you credit for.”

“Did they?” Finrod asked, sounding sweetly, naively surprised.

“Of course they did,” she said. “You remember how upset they were about the rebellion. I couldn’t have been too quick about it.”

“Mm.” Finrod made a chagrined noise. “That does explain a few things.” Amarië cringed.

“I will give my apologies for whatever it is they’ve done,” she said.

“You needn’t,” Finrod said. “I will be the last to advocate the necessity of apologizing for the actions of family members; I would never stop.” Amarië snorted and then wondered if perhaps he hadn’t meant that to be funny, but Finrod huffed as well and made some watery noise of amusement. He drew back from her to look on her face and she tried desperately to read his eyes. I knew you once as I knew myself, she thought. I will know you again. No shadow of Endor nor evil of Moringotto will keep you from me.

She had made a vow once, at twenty-two, that someday she would have Finrod Finarfinion to husband, and to that vow she held still (though Finrod had been asleep at the time she declared it).

“I missed you,” he said very quietly. Amarië bit her lower lip, her throat tightening and it seemed to her those three spare words carried a great deal.

“I missed you too,” she said. For several moments, they said nothing else, and then Finrod drew a hand up her thigh, too soft to be suggestive.

“I want you to know that I—please don’t take my response today as—I wanted to be with you. I still do. Right now everything is…” Again, the furrow of his brow, this uncertainty so unfamiliar to her in his manner, “…complicated. But complicated does not necessarily mean bad,” he added quickly. “If there was a problem, I would tell you. You…you know how you ease my fëa. Home isn’t home without you.” His voice grew softer still. “I trust you with all things, Amarië.”

Amarië nodded, finding herself unexpectedly reassured.

“I trust you,” she said. “Don’t let me hurt you, Ingoldo.” He nodded and lay back down, and Amarië resettled so they lay face-to-face. “Tell me more about the spring celebrations,” she said, tracing her fingers over his chest.

A smile crossed over his face.

“In some of the Mannish villages, they would crown the most beautiful youths in wreaths of flowers, so I am certain if you had been born a Man you would have received many such crowns…”

Amarië smiled too, and let Finrod talk until she could almost smell the cider and taste the honey-cakes of springtime, and they lay under the comforting blanket fortress of their stories as when they were children, and for a beautiful while, there was nothing else outside of that.

#finrod #amarie #amarie x finrod #the silmarillion #tolkien tag #fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #rocky writes #I did this instead of studying #I know how to prioritize

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tabswrites · 9 months

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First AND Last Line Tag

Tagged by @acertainmoshke here!

Tagging: @clairelsonao3 @gummybugg @elshells @mthollowell-writes @pandoras-comment-box @writinglittlebeasts

Rules: Whether it be an entire WIP or just a chapter of it, include your first line and also the last (or most recently written) line

First line, from Ch. 1 of TOL:

Adrin stared at the reflective glass that hung on his bedroom wall.

Last line, from the upcoming Ch. 5 of TOL:

The sound of snapping twigs made Cilla’s ears twitch and Hettie glanced behind them to see Adrin making his way over to the archway, cradling the felisquama in his arms.

TOL tag list: @outpost51 @writernopal

(Please ask to be +/-)

#how weird that it’s Adrin both times lol #wip: tomb of light #tag games #writeblr

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driftward · 9 months

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🦆 Zoissette and Klynt , Obtaining a Fountune/Settling Down/Lemonade Stand

🦩 Nyx and Erick, One Upping Each Other/Standing Up For/ Embarrassing Them

🦤 Karaswa and Azem, Crossing a Line/Hurt Feelings/ Lovers to Friends

🦜 Courier and Post Moogle, Singing and/or Dancing Together/Discovering Mutual Passion/Coming Out

Past me is such an asshole

🦆 Zoissette and Klynt , Settling Down

They always knew their story would end. But it took so long that they did not notice when it didn't. Friends and family passed on, but somehow, they never did.

The world moved on. It had new challenges, but new heroes to meet them. They had thrown their spark into the future, never expecting to see its light, but found themselves being kept warm by the campfire it lit aflame.

They were no longer needed, and anyroad, they were old, and so they settled down. Klynt had her children to look after, and Zoissette had her wife for a time. But children grow up, and spouses grow old, and time waits for no woman, no matter how bold.

The times they were apart from one another grew longer and longer, but they still kept up with each other, two warriors who had been in the dirt and the mud and the salt and the blood. A friendship such as theirs would always have such crew, but all journeys must one day end beyond the infinite horizon.

And so when their story ended at last, it was written on their own terms. They never said their goodbyes. For souls such as theirs, such was unnecessary. And so they each charted their final course, and set sail into the long, good night.

And in their wake, a thousand lights shined. Each spark a star, a light into a hopeful future they had fought to secure, forevermore.

~*~

🦩 Nyx and Erick, One Upping Each Other/Standing Up For Each Other/This one got away from me

Erick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he slowly circled his opponent. Barryl tol Dylanius, former Frumentarium agent, somehow, SOMEHOW staying afloat, with practically an Legion's worth of manpower backing him, despite the fact that none of the Garlean remnants otherwise wanted anything to do with him.

Erick really hated this guy.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Eorzea's favourite second-fiddle failure. How's it feel getting those sloppy spy seconds from Thancred all the time, big guy? And look, now you get my leftovers, too. All I have to do is walk away, buddy boy, and you'll be left holding the bag. Again. That bag will be empty, just to be clear."

Erick looked past him, and shook his head.

"Oh no, I'm not falling for that again. I'm in state of the art magitek armor big guy. Nobody's sneaking up on me."

Nyx's expression was unreadable, but at least they hadn't finished the motion that would wind up with a knife clear into Barryl's skull. Erick let out a sigh of relief when they vanished again.

"But hey, at least your girlfriend will live, right? You just gotta do what you hate to do buddy. Just let me just walk away. Gotta say, past Barryl, putting that heartbeat monitor bomb right under the orphanage where Meya works? Simple genius. Thanks, present Barryl. But enough about our little dance here, Erick. I gotta go enjoy the fruits of my labor. Toodle-doo!"

Barryl's grin got bigger, and Erick just glowered at him.

Barryl's grin got smaller, and Erick just sort of frowned, confused.

Barryl started to rock back and forth in place. "Hey! What's going on!" he yelled.

Nyx stepped out from behind him, and a moment later, Barryl screamed, briefly, as his magitek armor suit electrocuted him, and he fell over.

"MEYA! NO!" yelled Erick.

"Meya and the orphanage shall be fine," said Nyx in their characteristic monotone as Erick rushed over. "I have disabled his armor and am now mimicking his heartbeat signal. The bomb will not detonate."

"Oh, shit, really? You can do that?"

"Yes."

"Give me a -heart attack- why don't you. You could've said something!"

They both looked down at Barryl's still twitching body.

"So... you're sure the bomb won't go off if we do something to him now," said Erick.

"Yes. Do you want to kill him?"

"...hey you locked up his armor, right? Can you put his helmet back on him and lock him out from being able to talk? 'Cus I just got the best idea."

Sometime later, Barryl woke up, shaking his head clear. "Whoa... what happened to us, Barryl?" he asked nobody in particular.

Weird how his voice echoed. It was like his helmet mic and speaker set weren't working. He could just barely hear a tinny voice from outside, though.

"Alright, children. Now for the last stop on our tour, Gage Acquisitions was very nice to provide us with a suit of decommissioned Garlean magitek armor. And special today, you can see for yourselves how tough it is. Go ahead and use any of the tools present to try to see if you can dent it. Just be careful with the larger hammers! Miss Ganajai will be right here if anyone gets hurt."

Barryl heard the sounds of rocks pinging against the outside of his armor, and he chuckled to himself. "Oh, just you wait until I figure out the override codes and get this thing going again. In the meanwhile, this armor's rated against even the strongest weapons. Barryl's got all day to figure this one out, kiddos, and then I'm going to turn Erick inside out."

Ping. Pong. Ping. Ping. Ping. And then, a loud THUD that reverberated through the armor like a bell being run.

"Heh heh. Yeah, keep it up. I can handle this all day."

Ping. Pong. Thump. Thump. Thump. THUD.

"Hah hah. Okay. Okay. I get it. We can stop this now. Go ahead and just give up now, Erick ol' buddy, and I'll go easy on you."

Ping. Ping. Ping. Thump. THUD. Thump. THUD.

The kids, apparently, were really getting into it. Barryl began to sweat.

"Alright come on knock it off!"

Ping ping ping THUD thump THUD ring ping a ding a pong pong pong BONG

"HELP!"

Erick crossed his arms and smiled as Nyx stood silently next to him, Meya cheerfully wrangling the kids even as they picked up larger and heavier objects.

"See Nyx? This is how you do this job. With style."

"Of course, Erick."

~*~

🦤 Karaswa and Azem, Hurt Feelings

Atraxae just sat, her feet dangling over the edge of the Amaurotine fencing that lined the walkway.

It wasn't real.

How funny. A fake city for a man who had no idea how to be real.

"Swive me," she said quietly.

Soft steps came up behind her.

"Might I share in thy pensiveness?"

"Knock yerself out."

Urianger scooted to the edge of the walkway, and soon he too was looking out over the cityscape.

"Thou art still unsettled by the visage of thine old friend."

"Hells yes I'm still shook up about that. I told ya, right? Everything here is fake. A pretty picture painted by a delusional arse in a rat man's coat, that's what. This wasn't what the place was like, and those people are just bloody - worse than mummers in a play. A mummer can at least improvise, carry a tune. Hell, even your wotsits, the little metal clockwork metal guys, ah, help me out here-"

"Mammets."

"Yeah, even they're more real than anything or anyone down here. That little stroppy one of Serendipity's, Gigi, they're a -hoot- and they got more brains than Emet-Suckit."

"Thou hath begun to repeat your colourful epithets for thine countryman."

"He don't deserve the effort of my incredible creativity."

"As thou sayeth."

They sat quietly for a bit. Behind them, a cubus rooted around in the bushes under a tree.

"But somehow he made Hythlodaeus real enough," Atraxae said, quietly. "It was - it was almost just like I remember him. Wonder what that says. About souls. About who people are. Like, I'm me, you know, but how much of me could you make just from what other people know about me, yannow? ...I think about that a lot."

"I suspect thou wouldst, given the history and outcome of your singularly revolutionary creations."

"Aw, you say the sweetest things," said Atraxae, punching him cheerfully in the arm. Urianger pretended to wince, and she laughed.

"...yannow, I almost convinced myself he wasn't real. Almost managed it. Like, I know he isn't, sort of, but he seemed so real. But he's just another weird puppet down here, right? But he said somethin' that I don't think a fake would say in a million years."

"Or, at the very least, in seven calamities worth of summers."

Atraxae howled at that, and Urianger gave her that small slight smile of his.

"Ah, but I distract thee; pray continue."

She may have been the biggest screw up in multiple realities, but the Scions were always there to steer her true. She was grateful for that, she thought to herself, as she got her thoughts back on track.

"He said I'd've made a great Azem."

Urianger rubbed his chin.

"Which is bullshite, as you know. But... but man, that means he had to be real. We both know Innit-Squelch sure don't share that opinion. But it makes me wonder. Why'd he say that? Is there an Azem around here somewhere? I know they used to get on."

"Worried at the prospect of meeting another whomst thou knew well?"

"No. Scared about... about finally meeting them. And if they feel just as real as Hythlodaeus, well. I guess I'm scared at finally learning about the person who beat me to the seat."

"You never met them? Truly?" Urianger's eyebrows went up.

"Yeah, truly. I was a bit sore about the whole seat thing. I mean, I got over it, I thought it was the right thing then, though looking at how things turned out maybe I'm not so sure, but look, man. It hurt. It hurt! I wanted that seat. I wanted - swive me. I wanted to be cool and do shit, you know? And I just - I went out of my way to never talk to them, and I should've. They might've been cool. They might've helped with all this mess. Maybe - maybe we could've - iunno. Maybe at least Karasawa could've kept this whole mess from getting so out of control. He was good at - at not swivin' everything up. You know."

"...unlike Atraxae, who, in spite of her judgement of herself, hath taken upon herself the mantle of humanity, and in so doing saw fit to make upon it a distinct and noble pattern of shepherding the star by defending it, even against those whom she may have once called kin."

Atraxae looked over at Urianger, stunned.

"I know not this Hythlodaeus, and know little of the Convocation save what we have learned and what you have been able to recall to share with us, but I tell you thus; I concur with his assessment. However, absent the authority or cultural knowledge needed to convey upon you the title of Azem, if I may be so bold as to suggest a different title for thee, my friend... that of Karasawa Atraxe, the mantle you have chosen for thyself."

"...thanks, Urianger."

"Of course."

"...you know what pisses me off the most about this recreation?"

"Praythee, inform me."

"Indignant-Self couldn't even be bloody arsed to remember to put in a chupaqueso stand."

Urianger's laughter rang, light and free, through the streets of the echo of an ancient Amaurot, and the laughter of an ancient would-be Azem joined him.

~*~

🦜 Courier and Post Moogle, Discovering Mutual Passion

Quinnelle could not believe her luck.

She, the fastest courier in all of Eorzea...

Sure, she had done a few things. She had managed to speed messages back and forth for some of the most important and coolest people in the realm. She had delivered some of what she was sure would go down as some of the most important missives in history.

She had even managed, despite herself, to deliver victory for the Eorzean alliance.

Ah, that joke was never going to get old.

But she was no heroine. No, what she was... was a courier.

And this was going to be the biggest honor of her career.

"So you're saying, Mister Deputy Postmoogle sir... is that you want me... to deliver packages for you?"

"Y-yes!" the little creature said, sweatdrops flying off his head as he bounced around in the air nervously. "It- it's for the good of the realm, right?"

Quinnelle tapped a finger against her chin, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Well, I don't know... I'm only the fastest of the fast couriers in Eorzea... with one of the most complete Aetheryte maps, even to places unseen by most men... and Yashtola -says- I only have one of the most puissant abilities of anima she has EVER seen... I'm just not sure I'm post mooge material."

The Deputy Postmoogle looked shocked.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! You simply MUST help me! I don't know anyone who could possibly be more qualified!"

"Well... if you insist!" said Quinnelle, with a big salute. "In that case, deputy to the deputy postmoogle, reporting for duty!"

As the Deputy Postmoogle cheered, Quinnelle felt her heart soar. Now this is what she was born to do.

Yesterday, the realm may have breathed a sigh of relief, but tomorrow... its mail -would- be delivered.

#answer hours #prompt meme #thanks for the asks #<3 #zoissette vauban #klynt gohtawyn #karasawa atraxae #urianger augerelt #erick gage #nyx blackmoon #azem #deputy postmoogle #quinnelle vidalle

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demonscantgothere · 11 months

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Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den, Ch. 25: Á Nute Se [NSFW]

During the First Age, the War of Wrath changes course. On the island of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, the Isle of Werewolves, one of Sauron’s former strongholds—is the seat of the Necromancer’s power. Instead of sending his wolves out to kill Finrod after capturing Felagund in his dungeons, Sauron demands an exchange for his life. Galadriel offers herself. | A trip to the dungeons has unforeseen caveats. Galadriel/Sauron | Halbrand. 120.5k | 5.4k chapter.

Galadriel pursed her lips again, looking thoughtful for show. Unfolding her arms, she let them fall back to her sides, swaying gently as she paced a little in front of him. “You said,” Galadriel reminded him, “that most creatures are tamable to a degree. Teachable, even.” Galadriel stopped pacing, turning in full to face Halbrand. “Do you count yourself among them?”

“Galadriel,” Halbrand appealed to her, his voice sweet and soft, “what are you talking about?”

“What I am talking about,” Galadriel said, “is the same thing you were talking about.” Slowly, she stepped towards him until she was close enough to lay her hand upon his shoulder, clasping it beneath the thick fabric of his tunic. Galadriel met his eyes, even as his began to burn. “Breaking should be a last resort when all other options have been expended,” she explained in a whisper. “Are you tamable, Halbrand?” She tilted her head back to look him more fully in the eyes. “Teachable, even?”

His face was drawn tight, both corners of his mouth twitching now. “Galadriel—”

Keep Reading

#saurondriel #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x sauron #haladriel #galadriel x halbrand #halbrand x galadriel #my fic #beasts of the hill and serpents of the den

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ask-uts-earthspark-au · 1 year

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Hashtag, you shall become short

Hashtag: hu-?

*Mario Mini-Shroom sound effect*

Hashtag: huh. I’m small now.

Thrash: Yeah. You’re like, my size.

Hashtag: yeah, I am.

Nightshade: Aw!~ You’re adorable.

Jawbreaker: Awww…

Hashtag: ‘Shade, can you lift me up sometimes?

Nightshade: oh, of course! :)

Twitch: So this is kind of how we see each other.

Hashtag: Yeah, I guess so.

Twitch: *lifts Hashtag up to hug her, then sets her on shoulder* Here! Now we can reverse! :D!

Hashtag: Hehe, yissss.

Twitch: Yeee!

#the girls are gonna have fun >:3 #smol hashtag #10 asks left #tol twitch #1 ask left #thank you for the ask!#djhashtageditz #ask box #anon magic #answered asks #terran answers #transformers #earthspark #transformers earthspark #hashtag malto #nightshade malto #jawbreaker malto #thrash malto #twitch malto

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hualianff · 1 year

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Diver/Swimmer

You know the hockey/figure skater trope?

Well, I’m proposing the swimmer/diver trope - aka sports that are both competed in water but require completely different skill sets.

College AU. Diver HC, my beloved, would be the most beautiful diver. Tol and lithe, flexible and strong. HC would be the type of person to hyper-fixate on mastering control of his own body.

Exquisite lines and form. He would be so graceful with his approach and also get tremendous height! There’s a feeling of untouchable elegance when a diver works the board into throwing them into the air - flipping and twisting - and then entering the water. All while making it appear effortless, as if they’re floating.

(Visual)

Swimmer XL would be an absolute powerhouse of a swimmer, built like a tank. XL is one of the few swimmers who doesn’t ridicule HC for diving.

In fact, XL very much appreciates the sport itself, and HC cheekily asks from time to time: “Gege, wanna hit the boards with me ?” 😇

Unfortunately, XL actually has a fear of heights, but he doesn't tell HC until XL is disassociating on the edge of the 3-meter board like 🧍🏻

HC: “Gege, you don’t have to jump-“

XL, not able to hear HC at all: “HERE I GO- AHHHHHH!!”

Cue XL crashing down into the water, nose plugged and eyes squinted shut.

Luckily, HC is wading in the water not too far away and quickly swims over to XL who is lowkey fighting for his life to get back above water.

XL immediately latches onto HC like “ahh that was so scary, I truly don’t know how you do it, San Lang!” And HC grunts as he struggles to kick his legs to hold XL in his arms-

Because HC is actually not a great swimmer.

Oops.

***

XL walking around with his broad swimmer shoulders and ripped back muscles.

Big pecs too.

And tattoos! Along XL’s lower back/hip area, a chain of flowers very visible above his swim bottoms.

HC can’t help but stare.

XL noticing HC’s intrigued gaze: “you can touch it, if you want” 🥰

Without his permission, HC’s cheeks would be dusted with pink because of the way XL is looking up at him so earnestly paired with such words…

HC is merely human, of course he’s gonna fucking blush.

***

MQ would be such a pretty diver too!

HC would be the INSANELY talented new underclassman on the team; seems nonchalant and cold on the outside but is very competitive and passionate !

MQ instantly catches on to HC’s curious glances at XL - MQ’s childhood friend - and shakes his head like “this kid” 🙄

Then MQ sees the equally interested expressions on XL’s face: “f-f-fool!”

But yes, the divers are so serious and catty 🥵

***

Insert swimmer FX. Tan. Bulky. Abs. The last third of the Fengqinglian trio.

Is clearly close to XL, who is naturally physically affectionate and thus, they are touchy-feely with each other so much so that HC thinks they are a couple.

HC, from the other side of the pool, staring at Fenglian who are doing their above-water kicking drills and talking together: 😠

Not a second later, someone smacks the back of his head.

“You’re supposed to be stretching, dimwit,” MQ scolds.

“yOu’Re sUpPosEd tO bE StrEtcHiNg” HC mimics under his breath, then quickly prances away out of MQ’s slap-vicinity.

Also…

HC trying his best to finish his basics practice ASAP so he can be with Fenglian when they go to the locker rooms to shower: 🌪🌪🌪🌪🌪

MQ: “I cannot with this one”

***

HC is happy because he has at least a few centimeters on FX and can look down on him.

(FX is always like “what’s this kid’s problem with me, i breathed???”

HC, internally: “yeah and that’s enough reason to beat you to a pulp- 🤺”)

FX feels HC’s stupid fucking laser glare on him all the time. Like fuck, what is WRONG WITH THIS KID??

Pan to XL standing off to the side, watching HC look at FX: “I sense San Lang likes someone” 😔

***

During practice, when he’s not so inside his head about diving or XL, HC notices MQ sneaking glances at FX.

HC: “not you looking at a taken man”

MQ, eye twitching: “what the actual fuck-“

XL, who just happened to walk by exiting the bathroom: “taken? by who?” 🤔

***

FengLian having their own private conversations like:

FX: “how am I gonna get Mu Qing to look at me?”

XL: “ok back up, what about San Lang’s crush on you??”

FX: [chokes on spit] “exCUSE ME WHAT??”

XL: “I just think you should acknowledge San Lang’s feelings for you before you approach A-Qing.”

FX: “literally what?? Are we living in the same dimension? What are you on about?” 😭

Ten minutes later, XL has somehow convinced FX that HC likes him.

FX: “ugh fine, i’ll talk to him next practice”

***

Before the beginning of the next practice, FX pulls HC to the side. After stumbling over his words and avoiding the questioning deadpan of the younger man, FX finally manages to choke out something along the lines of:

FX: “Listen, Hua Cheng, I know u like me but I like Mu Qing, so, sorry bud” :/

HC doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink.

Ten seconds pass.

Then twenty.

FX fidgets in place, thinking the poor kid’s gone into shock. But then, HC explodes into sarcastic laughter - right in FX’s face. He cackles like an absolute maniac, the sounds echoing in the indoor pool, and ends up hunched over as he tries to catch his breath.

(XL watching from afar: “seems like they’re getting along” 🥺)

And before FX can even act as offended as he wholeheartedly feels, HC does a complete 180 as his expression suddenly turns dark. HC takes one swift step forward so they’re chest-to-chest.

“Are you seriously confessing feelings to another person while in a committed relationship?” HC seethes. FX, currently suffering from extreme fucking whiplash, is rendered speechless.

“Wait wha-”

“And in a relationship with Xie Lian, no less? You’re fucking sick.”

FX has heard enough. He pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation because how the hell could HC be so delusional to think FX was dating XL?? And what does that say about XL when he was 100% convinced HC liked FX!?

A pair of fools, those two.

“You fucking BRAT, you have it all wrong!” FX curses as he jabs a finger at HC’s chest, which doesn’t even move the taller man. (A moment of silence for FX’s ego.) “You know what, just come with me-”

FX drags HC by the wrist to the locker room.

***

A few minutes later, HC and FX exit the locker room, neither of their dignities in sight.

***

At the end of the season championships where HC places third, XL is not only the one who cheers the loudest but also congratulates HC by scooping him up into his arms in a warm embrace.

XL: “you did so well! I’m so proud of my San Lang!!”

HC is on the verge of tears because no one has ever supported him so genuinely and strongly. Wrapped around XL like an octopus, HC happily buries his face into XL’s neck.

Fengqing watching from the side: 😑😑

Some photographers for their uni apparently decided this was a great moment to capture and put it on the front of the school newspaper. It’s certainly a picture that will stay with XL and HC for years to come.

After that first season, HC and XL date soon after (considering the build up of their relationship the entire season), and now, MQ and FX are subjected to even more mushy hualian antics they can’t escape in or out of practice. :)

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #slice of life #cerdrabbles #diver hua cheng #swimmer xie lian #diver mu qing #swimmer feng xin #crack #exposing myself as a sport-doer #diver hua cheng would be the most gorgeous diver

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cilil · 2 months

Text

౨ৎ Prompt: Long Distance ౨ৎ Synopsis: As Mairon spends yet another lonely night in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, Melkor seeks him out in spirit ౨ৎ Warnings: Some angst ౨ৎ Oneshot (~1.2k words) ౨ৎ AO3

AN: February prompt coming right up. Hope you enjoy!

The night was dark and quiet safe for the howling of his wolves in the distance. Mairon was alone in his study after Thuringwethil had gone out to hunt and continued his work, reading letters and reports from Angband. His fiery eyes shone in the darkness, as well as a small, star-like flame he had summoned for easier reading, burning and writhing in silence.

It was boring out here at times, even though Thuringwethil kept him company, and the only regular contact Mairon had to the fortress he had called home for many centuries were these papers, as mundane as their contents were.

"Little flame..."

His fána barely moved, yet his ëala lit up. To hear Melkor's voice had become a rarity these days, despite their ancient and intimate connection, and Mairon treasured these moments; he missed his husband, yes, but there was also the lingering concern about his declining mental state, courtesy of those accursed gems.

These thoughts, however, he kept hidden.

"Precious," he purred. "Are you well? Have you gone to bed already? And did you remember to take off your crown?"

Melkor merely laughed in response, and Mairon was glad that he appeared to be in good spirits.

"Ah, but you know I don't like sleeping without you."

"Don't tell me you haven't –"

"Oh precious, you wouldn't want to waste such a lovely night being cross with me for missing you, would you?"

Mairon sighed, but smiled. "I would not, beloved."

It was then that he felt something akin to a winter breeze entering his study, even though there was no sign of wind outside, and twisting around his ankle, making its way up his leg.

"Melkor...?"

"It has been a while, hasn't it?"

He could almost see the tender, wistful expression on Melkor's face, veiling whichever lascivious thought he was harbouring and whichever spell he was secretly weaving. Unfortunately – or fortunately – for him however, Mairon knew him too well.

Placing the papers on the desk, he dismissed the floating flame with a wave of his hand and relaxed in his seat, stretching out his legs and spreading them ever so slightly.

"It has been indeed. I do miss your touch," he whispered through ósanwë, and his silent invitation was eagerly accepted. Something cool now brushed against the soft, warm skin of his inner thighs, mapping out each and every muscle twitching and flexing underneath.

"Then let me remind you that I am always with you, just one call, one breath away..."

"Here, precious?" Mairon leaned back, enjoying the ghostly touch as it inched closer and closer to the most sensitive part of his fána. "Or should I too go to bed?"

"Wherever I have your undivided attention so you may enjoy my presence."

Dutiful as always, Mairon rose from his seat and made his way over to the bedroom, undoing the sash holding his robes in place as he went. If Melkor chose to not only speak to him and touch him through their bond, but also have his far-seeing gaze on this humble watchtower, he would find his husband eager and ready for him in body just as in spirit.

Mairon lay down on his back, parting his robes to fearlessly bare his skin to the cool night air as well as the dark presence that lingered and loomed within his mind and all around him, ready to resume toying with him. Shamelessly, he spread his legs as if his ankles had been tied to the bedposts, and his efforts were met with a low groan reverberating through his very being.

"Yes... very good, little flame..."

The ghostly touch returned, and this time it felt as though a large hand briefly rested on his chest before making its way down. Shapeless, shadowy fingers wrapped around his hardening cock and stroked, causing Mairon to moan and squirm on the bed.

"Yes..."

He had missed this, and even though it wasn't quite like the touch of flesh upon flesh, it also meant that Melkor wasn't hurting himself by pleasuring him. When he closed his eyes, it seemed to him as if he could see his beloved, blue eyes glinting in the darkness with amusement and lust alike, fangs glistening as his need was met with a toothy grin.

In his fantasy, the blinding light of those ugly jewels was blissfully absent for once.

"Not so fast, precious. Let us enjoy this."

"Whatever you desire is yours to take..."

"Is it now?"

A second immaterial hand made its way up his right thigh and dipped between his legs, daring and impatient like the Vala whose power shaped the very air around Mairon to make him feel as though he was at home, as though he was with him. He sighed, keeping his eyes closed to indulge in the fantasy. His senses were so thoroughly bewitched that he believed he would feel Melkor's weight settle atop him every moment now.

Unfortunately, the mattress underneath him never dipped and his fána remained deprived of the comfortable feeling that came with a heavy Valarin body on top of and around him, shielding him from all who might seek to harm him; but what he was granted was a finger-like digit entering him, moving in and out. Chaotic as he was, Melkor didn't match the rhythm with which the other part of his spirit was stroking him, and it made the sensation all the more maddening.

Mairon's toes curled, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Please..."

"Please what?"

"I need to feel you, I need to see you, I need to be with you, I..."

He forced back a stray tear, not even knowing from whence the sudden surge of emotion had come.

"I love you..."

In his mind, the image of his husband became even clearer. The darkness receded, and he could suddenly see their shared bedroom in Angband as if he was there instead, with Melkor kneeling above him and meeting his gaze as he continued to take care of him.

He was smiling, and Mairon felt something deep inside him come undone. After years of hardship and their current separation, even such a small gesture felt intimate to the point of seeming forbidden. His climax shook him to the core, and the apparition of Melkor leaned over him to gently kiss his forehead.

The simple, earth-shattering truth was that he was there, and also not. His ëala was present, yet the hröa it was bound to remained in Angband. Certainly not out of this world, no, it would in fact be more than possible to travel to and fro in just one night to be with him, but Mairon knew the boundaries that separated them at times were more than merely spatial. For no matter where or how he encountered his husband, his ëala in turn was not always there, clouded at times with pain and madness and retreating to a dark place not even he could reach.

"I love you too," Melkor whispered to him then, and Mairon embraced him in the only way he could, shedding his exhausted, panting, satisfied fána to hold him in spirit.

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot @stormchaser819 @wandererindreams

#mairon #sauron #melkor #morgoth #angbang #melkor x mairon #ainur #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #cílil writes #my writing #year of the otp #year of angbang

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frosted-hyacinth · 10 months

Text

かべのはな - Wallflower

Part 1, Part 2 This is a short story, my grammar is bad... First post on tumblr btw!

The first time you had tried gaming, your friend, Aki - it’s meaning was something like ‘bright helper’ but she, some way or another, had ended up the exact opposite of what her name meant- had somehow managed to make a deal with you; if you had joined her in playing it to prevent others from thinking she was lonely, she would lend you the manga you've been wanting for a long time though due to it's leaks and large popularity all copies were sold out within the first few hours of release. You sulked in your room for hours. But anyway, this was how you ended up here, with your friend's leant monochrome headphones sitting plainly yet comfortably atop your hair, the unmistakable sounds of mouse clicking filled the room when suddenly it all stopped. Someone had… somehow joined the server lobby that was apparently meant to be private, or so she said. Your face flickered with surprise, head snapping towards her sheepishly laughing face.

“I thought you said I didn't have to worry about awkwardly meeting other people since this was a private server!“ You quietly yelled, an evident glare faced directly toward the said friend “Well that's what I thought at least! Why don't we just ask the intruder how - and why he's here!" She stated "He?" "Please don't say I assumed gender." Her voice trailed off "But you just did-" You said, trying to back what you just said but was interrupted by the 'someone' joining the voice chat leading to everything becoming even quieter if it could. "..." The two companions could hear the lightest shuffling of clothes before he (?) spoke up 'Hello?" "You just - mhph!" before your *cough* dear *cough* friend, could say anything rude like all the swear words in her small vocabulary, you were quick to throw your hand over her mouth stopping her from saying anything "Continue." You calmly replied, letting your arm drop down to let the poor girl breathe "Hey." The stranger said "Well? How did you get in here?" She questioned, suspicion evident in her voice "It wasn't privatized. It automatically spawned me here." "What are your pronouns? It's getting tiring to have Y/n saying I'm assuming gender." "Who?"

Turning off both your microphones, before screaming as loud as you could in her face, even though it really wasn’t all that loud “Aki! Don’t just say my name in front of strangers! Didn’t you learn that during elementary school before?!” “Opps, sorry, that was a slip of tongue. But I guess to be equal you could tell him my name too?” “Why would I want to-” You wanted to say that there would be no reason to list out Aki’s name as well but instead, the unfamiliar voice asked “Are you both still here?” “Uh, yeah! We’re still here!” “Since I just said my friend here’s name, I guess I could tell you my name too. It’s Aki by the way.”

More of that unstable, in between comfortable and disturbing silence because with the boy, behind the screen, he was debating whether or not to let these two girls know his name, especially since they told him their names even before they were sure he would tell his in return. Did they trust him? Screw this, it was tol much pressure. "Kozume… Kozume Kenma, you asked earlier for my pronouns, I’m a boy. I thought you could figure from my voice though…"

"Wait! Aren't you that twitch streamer?"

"Yes?" Queue the fangirl squeak/squealing of Aki ``That's great! That means you can help Y/n here! She's a total noob at this game, though she's considerably good since she just started a few hours ago. Soooo I'll leave the two of you alone for now." Yeah, Aki was the no. 1 shipper of you and Kenma when you first met. I guess your personalities were just too similar; both were timid who only spoke to people close to them even though it was still quiet. Both were even shut ins but who'd stay in most and for the longest? That question remains unanswered.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You watched Aki exit the fluorescent lit room with the excuse that it was a little too hot in the room and she was going outside for a walk *cross* presumably for two, three hours of a 'binge watching anime marathon' but what the girl didn't know was that it's probably a really bad idea to leave two socially awkward people together. For sometime the room was silent before Kenma started to speak, "So, what do you need help with? - In game." "I………… don't know, I don't even know how to play this game, Aki just left me here."

"I could help you."

With these simple words, both started moving in game and eventually warmed up to each other, talking like you'd known the other for years

.˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Gtg, Aki's calling me, she says she wants me to do something.

Oh, bye

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

*This is a text, just to let you know ;) yes you asked for each others numbers

[1/?]

#kozume kenma #kenma #kenma x reader #kenma kozume fluff #kenma kozume x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #hq x reader #hq fluff #⌕ 茶ʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵍᵃʳᵈᵉⁿ

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eilinelsghost · 10 months

Note

Finrod/Balan, 7?

Ok @actual-bill-potts (I know this is you 👀) here's a silly lil ficlet for your prompt request! It's our boys having fun, so it's the opposite of everything I normally write and consequently have probably done a rather poor rendering 😂 But I owe you some happy Finrod and Balan after throwing only angst your way this whole time. So:

------

“Heru Findaráto,” he said in parting, rising as he finished the morning meal. He saw the twitch of the other’s fingers about the cup in his hand, the quizzical shift of his brows. Gildor too glanced at him in mild surprise, and Balan smiled, then dipped a bow to the others around the table and made his way out to the corridor and the wide terrace beyond.

He grinned as he looked over the river before him, the steep highlands rising on either side, and wondered whether he could maintain the dance throughout the full day. He had nearly fallen into laughter already at the first bewildered expression, and there were nine names still to manage.

It was a relief to spend these weeks on Tol Sirion. Nargothrond was home, settled and known, comfortable and predictable, but Balan missed the wind’s sharp sting, the expanse of sky. Nóm knew this, of course, and so brought him on every journey from the caverns, no matter how trivial, and their sojourns on this isle were ever Balan’s favorite. One could see all the vale of Sirion from this tower. He looked out, giddy and refreshed—the balance weight placed on the opposite scale, countering the badger’s dens with the flight of the hawk.

He filled his lungs with the autumn air, grateful that there was another week yet before their return. Another week of the valley’s winds, of the dawn pouring through the windows, drenching the bed in light, of waking to see it dance through the pool of gold spilling over his pillow. How well he looked in the morning’s sun! It was rare that Balan woke before him, never in the caverns and only at times when the strange bed of travel roused him early, but he savored each instance.

And how he had shone that morning in the rays from the window, half-dressed and perched at the foot of the bed, his voice tripping through the chamber like a mountain’s stream, bright and breathless, unexpectedly shy.

Ai, disregard my words. You needn’t call me so if it sits poorly with thee. It was a frivolous request. Leave it be. Twas an indulgence only…only I would have thee say it once, if thou wouldst, that I might know its sound in thy voice… Nay, thy face is an eloquent picture on the suggestion, I retract my words. I should not—

Balan had kissed him to stem the torrent, the porcelain face cupped within his palms, the babbling tongue quieted beneath his own. Then he pulled away and smiled, kissed him lightly on the tip of his nose, and wandered back toward his own chamber in their ever-present charade of secrecy.

Ingoldo. He let it roll upon his tongue as he looked out over the valley. The name suited him, he reflected, the syllables warm and vibrant. It tasted of him.

Well. He had waited years. Nóm could be teased for a day.

And so he had named him Findaráto at the morning meal.

Firindil he was when they crossed the courtyard, Nóm once again as they carried apples to the tower’s stables. He was Felagund when they conferred with Edrahil and charted out plans for the goods to be carried back to the city.

Atandil he called him in the midst of his laughter, bright-eyed and merry when Orodreth observed the cut of his tunic had shifted distinctly toward the Atani fashion.

Artafindë he named him in the solemn dignity of council.

Finrod as they processed into the banqueting hall.

Edennil as the evening meal dissolved into song.

Then with his lover perched once more on the foot of the bed, his hair hanging loose and his laughter drifting through the star-kindled air, Balan wandered by and brushed a kiss across his cheekbone. “Angolodh,” he whispered, and his own laughter tugged at his lips.

Finrod tripped him at this and caught him about the waist, pulling him back onto the bed as their laughter spilled out in full and they fell across the linen in a tangled pile. Balan looked up at him, his eyes dark as the night, dancing, alight with mischief and mirth. “Ingoldo,” he murmured at last, and drew him into his arms.

---

(now on AO3 also)

#finrod #bëor #my fic #prompts #look i don't know how to write happy things #just doing my best attempt over here

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sunshinemage · 2 years

Text

Story Night

Word count: 1364 Main character(s): Oya Cenric (they/them she/her) (Wayfarer IF) CW: mentions of death

In which Oya tells a bit of her story to a new recruit.

_____

At the end of the day, when the recruits and apprentices had fulfilled their duties and found themselves with some free time, they usually gathered in the common room by the fireplace to play some games or talk the night away. Tonight was story night.

Most of the group already knew each other’s stories. However, last week the Spire became home to three new faces, and so some stories would be told again tonight.

“What about you, Oya?”

Oya was sitting on the floor, against the wall next to the fireplace. Their eyes were closed, the constant chattering gently lulling them to sleep. They weren’t expecting to be talked to tonight, especially not after Loumi’s ‘Incredible Tale Of How I Was Hired Into The Wayfarer Order’ or Aeran’s antics with the cushions. The evening always ended with the cushions. But one of the new recruits decided to keep the conversation going.

“Hm?”

“You’ve been at the Spire for some time, right? Who were you before getting here?”

“Uh…” They righted themselves. “Yeah, I’ve been here for five years, almost six.”

The recruit kept staring at them, patiently waiting for them to continue. What was her name again? Her very light Coveran accent made Oya twitch, and her piercing green eyes made them a bit uneasy.

“And I was no-one.”

“That can’t be true.”

“It is, though. I was supposed to be someone, but I ended up not being anyone.”

“Everyone is someone.”

“Well, now I’m someone.”

The recruit clicked her tongue. Ellida, her name was Ellida.

“What about your family? Who are your parents?”

Oya looked around. Indeed, the cushions had ended the evening, as usual. Many were asleep in the room while the rest had gone to sleep in their quarters. Only Ellida and Oya were awake.

“Alright, alright. I come from Tol Covere. My… father is the head of a merchant House. He never cared about me and didn’t even tried to pretend he did when Cenric came to find me.”

“And your mother?”

“Never knew her.”

“Is she… ?”

“Yeah.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Why? Did you know her?”

Oya’s question took Ellida aback.

“Well… no, but that’s what you’re supposed to say, right?”

“It’s fine. As I said, I never knew her.”

Both of them fell silent. The soft crackling of the fire was the only sound for a little while, and the dancing shadows cast by its light were the only movement. After a moment, Oya could feel Ellida shifting a bit, a question on her tongue.

“You want to ask more, don’t you?” They said with a smirk.

“I. Yeah, I do.”

“Is it because you’re from Covera too?”

“Mmaaaybe.” Ellida said with mischief. “So you were listening to us when we spoke about ourselves!”

Oya scratched their head.

“Ah… not entirely. You just have a little bit of an accent.”

Ellida frowned.

“Hey I’m sorry, alright? Practice got me tired today, and I was comfy by the fire.”

In response to Ellida’s pouting, Oya rolled their eyes.

“Alright, what do you want to know?”

“You say you’re from Tol Covere, but you don’t have an accent.”

“I do. It’s heavier than yours, even. I just know how to hide it.”

Oya’s pronounced accent made Ellida snort.

“Okay, okay! So which House was it?”

“House Sunsea.”

“What? No way.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I don’t know,” Ellida shrugged. “That’s a pretty big House. If people got word of a magianis being in it… well, I mean, there had to be a scandal.”

“My father is pretty good at hiding things. By which I mean a lot of money can buy the silence of a lot of people.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

“I only stayed in the House because it was the wish of my mother. Otherwise I think I would have been put into an orphanage or something.”

“I thought you never knew her?”

“I didn’t.”

“How… how old were you when she died?”

“She died while giving birth to me. I killed her.”

“You didn’t. How can an infant kill someone?”

Oya blinked.

“I know. But, hey, when everyone tells you this while you’re growing up, you can’t help believing it a little bit.” They shrugged. “There were complications. She was bleeding a lot and since I was what I was, she couldn’t heal fast enough. No one back there knew how to heal without magic. It was going to be her or me. She said it would have to be me. My father honored her request to keep me, but that’s all. I lived in the House, I never really was a part of it.”

“I…” Ellida’s eyes wandered around the room. “I don’t really know what to say.”

“Nothing to say, to be honest.”

“Do you know what she was like?”

“I know what she looked like because there was a big painting of her in the foyer. And sometimes I would ask people about her, yeah. She was kind and bright and fierce and brave and apparently a million other qualities. I don’t even know if any of it was true. But she was truly loved by everyone, that much I could tell.”

Oya’s shoulders sagged a bit.

“I never knew what I was supposed to feel about that. If I was supposed to feel sad or guilty, it never happened. I didn’t know that woman. She meant so much to so many people in Tol Covere and beyond, and she meant nothing to me.”

“She gave you life, that has to count for something, right?”

“Yeah, well. I never did ask.” They huffed. “But the first person to show me kindness in this world was a woman who died so I could live. Me, someone she would never meet. Maybe that’s love, but that’s also very stupid.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I feel like she would also have been the only person to love me completely. And she sacrificed herself, leaving me among people who would hate me for killing her.”

Oya crossed their arms, a flash of anger in their eyes.

“It didn’t do me any favors. Things weren’t all dark, but they certainly weren’t amazing. I am bitter and resentful and I’m not even a proper adult yet.”

They shook their head and sighed heavily.

“But then Cenric came to the House to take me to the Spire,” they said, masking their Coveran accent again. “And now things are beginning to feel pretty okay, I think.”

“Is that why you’re hiding your accent? To sever ties?”

“In a way, maybe.” Oya winked. “Also to avoid questions.”

“Well, oops.” Ellida sticked out her tongue and got up. “In any case, thank you for indulging me.”

“Next time I’ll be the one asking questions when everyone’s asleep.”

“Oh I’m counting on it! Goodnight Oya!”

“Night, Ellida.”

Oya waited a couple of minutes after Ellida’s departure from the room, then elbowed the pile of cushions next to them.

“Ow.”

“You’re done eavesdropping?”

Aeran’s head popped out of the pile of cushions, his mop of hair an impossible mess.

“How did you know I was here?”

Oya rolled their eyes at him.

“Really?”

“One day I’ll sneak up on you real good. You’ll never hear me coming.”

Oya laughed while Aeran arranged some cushions so they could both lie next to the fireplace for the rest of the night.

“Yeah right. Can’t wait to see that happen.”

“Oh it’ll happen!”

They both fell into a comfortable silence until the fire died out. Oya was well on their way to sleep when they felt a soft pat on their shoulder.

“You should keep the accent,” Aeran whispered, barely audible. But to Oya, it was as loud as thunder. “Make it yours instead of theirs.”

They turned to face their friend. With the room now plunged into darkness, they couldn’t properly see Aeran’s face, but they knew he could see theirs perfectly.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” they said with their accent. “Thanks.”

Another pat on their shoulder.

As usual, Aeran and Oya were the last to be asleep, and would be the first awake to put the room back in order the next morning.

#wayfarer #oya cenric #things i wrote #in which i am reminded that i write a TON of dialogue lol #okay now that's out of my system i'll keep working on vy <3

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lillykayewrites · 11 months

Text

CHANGE ME CHAPTER SIX:

Warnings: Strong Language/Almost Death

Word Count: 1207

Staring the children down with a look of

'guurrrllll don't you do it!~', one by one, the spirits hesitantly disappeared.

After what felt like forever, I let go of my breath, letting out a labored exhale. Thinking over what had just happened and how quickly it escalated, my knees felt like they were about to give out on me any second. Begrudgingly letting the strangeness of the situation go, I turned to the distressed and nearly keeled over animatronic.

"Mr-...um...William... ar-re you okay?" I spoke with my voice quaking. All the power of it dissipated as soon as the the children vanished into the sickeningly heavy air.

As rigid as a metal wire, William still sat with his head twitching at random moments. A movement that seemed so unrealistic;

"How is he doing that...?" I whispered to myself.

I watched him intently, his mechanical body making ungodly sounds every time he convulsed. Causing my face to slightly upturn in disgust knowing there was a over a thirty year old dead body in that suit.

Slowly regaining composure, I stood up straight thanking whatever gave me the stomach for this shit.

But as I continued to stare, something... something somewhere in my brain told me to go to him.

So without thinking, I moved towards him...

My legs moved on their own will. Every synapse that told them to stop, backfired in my own brain.

"I need to help him." I breathed like it was part of the vital action.

What made me think such an un-intelligent thought?

Such a maddening mindset to have in that moment....

But I continued forward, my mind savagely ripping me away from the dangers which I approached with every pace....

But I still didn't listen.

"Run~" Step.

"Go back~" Step.

"You will be like them~" Step.

But I didn't stop until I stood right in front of him.

"This isn't righteousness Y/N... this is insanity. Unforgivable madness! Which HE caused. How is fixing this your responsibility?!" I internally screamed.

But just like most things in my mind, I ignore.

Crouching down to my knees, I nervously put out my hand. Reaching towards him hopefully calming whatever made him twitch. But as I reached the destroyed head of the suit. The twitching completely stopped.

"Oh good you sto-...wait..." I mumbled

After realizing what I fell into to, it was too late, "Son of a-" and in that moment, I was interrupted by a quick and strong hand to the throat,

"Bit-ch" I rasped.

Without missing a beat, William fluidly stood up. His hand around my neck constricting the air I desperately wanted to breathe.

I choked and gasped for air, as I tried to rip myself out of his grasp, which resulted in a low rumbling chuckle erupting from the dead mechanical rabbit,

Or the...

"SpRinGtRaP or wh-a-aever you are call-led!" I hissed out, "I tol-...d you I coul-d hel-p!" My face falling numb as I spoke, the words becoming harder and harder to pronounce.

"That is not how this works~I must admit, that little trick you did with those little nuisances was actually entertaining! But it doesn't mean anything you do will help me magically change...

Letting out a struggled whine, Springtrap looked down to my name tag in amusement. If at any point I could sense a smug looking grin it was then.

"You're quite naive Lilly...~ Thinking everyone can change is foolish. Unfortunately for you, you thought I was one who could..." His spoke in with such coy-mock, his words stinging my ego and wiping my pride clean in one sentence.

Feeling weaker and weaker, Springtrap swung me around by the neck with such ease it reminded of a child with a rag doll.

By this time, the darkness lurking at the edge of my eyes was starting overwhelm my vision.

"Ple-a-ase... le-t me help...I wa-ant to he-lp you..." I whispered as the last bit of my life slipped from my body.

Darkness completely overtook my vision. My hearing became echoed and my body fell numb. As this feeling grew like a peaceful disease, I heard a muffled noise and then my body fell harshly to the floor, a cold bitter numbness enveloped me as it hit the ground. But as I grew accustom to the feeing of death , I could once more hear a scream of agony in William's voice ring out around the room; And the last of my hearing, his quivering words whispered,

"Help ME..."

"Ow." Yep. That's all I said. It is exactly what any normal person would say when you wake up after you get pummeled by a giant bunny.

"Wait..." I thought for a moment. "I got choked OUT by a giant bunny..."

"OH~ I should be dead!" I finally rasped out.

That's right.

I remembered.

I brought Springtime or whatever he is goes by now into my office.

Then the dead children appeared. (Disappeared)

Then I died. Or at least I thought I did....

Yep. That is exactly what happened.

Finally after having a long drawn out conversation with myself, I tentatively opened my eyes. The light of the room toying with my vision causing a migraine to form as I awoke.

"For god's sake... this-... this is what I get for doing what I do..." I sighed as I pushed my limp and heavy body up from the grimy floor with a rugged sigh.

Sitting up fully, I scanned the room which happened to be empty. The little fan on my desk whirling and the stale air somewhat feeling less humid

"He tries to kill me then pussy's out...one Hell of a serial killer..." I grumble lowly trying not to get him to change his mind.

Wobbling over to my desk I check the time and just about shriek,

"It's nearly six!" I exclaim.

Great. An entire night wasted by me laying on the floor literally dying. Congratulations Y/N.

Packing up my stuff and fully disappointed in myself for not using my bat, I walked down the hall.

Was I supposed to stay in my office until six o-clock?

Yes.

Do I really care?

No.

Strutting down the hall with my bat in my bag, I walked to the exit passing the heavy metal door that most definitely had a William Afton on the other side.

Searing with rage, I beat my tiny fist against the thick door,

"I was trying to help you ungrateful asshole!" I hissed, kicking the door with uncontrollable anger which vibrated in response.

"I'm coming back tomorrow and you better get your shit together before I beat it out of you!"

And with a final smack to the door, I stormed out of the attraction with highest amount of 'bitchiness' I could possibly expel.

Locking the up the exit, I made my way to my car, darkness painting the parking lot in a calm indigo hue.

Turning to face the attraction, the sun was starting to rise behind it and I sharply exhaled with a sneer on my face.

"You can't get rid of me... I'm just getting fucking started."

#william afton #fnaf #fnaf fandom #spotify #fnaf security breach #william afton x you #Spotify

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