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writing-good-vibes · 3 years

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brad dourif characters x reader headcanons: marriage

marriage isn't for everyone but if you did tie the knot, there is no way it wouldn't be a wild ride with all of them, one way or another. warning for smut (mild).

charles lee ray

no one could ever accuse this man of being a romantic

(except he really, really is)

legally he doesn't care if you get married or not

but you suggest it first (not a proposal) and you both mutually agree to it

then he sort of proposes (with a ring and flowers) after you've already agreed

if you want a legal marriage it would have to be before any of his murders are he is known to the police

(he's already known for petty crime but getting married would really blow his cover if he's already a wanted murderer)

you go to the nearest courthouse and have a bare minimum ceremony

he wears the nicest suit he already owns

and you go out and get a white dress that you could wear again to a bar

you sign the papers

then you consummate your love in the ladies toilets

whether you go on honeymoon depends on how much money you have at the time

either you go to a tacky wedding motel or you stay in and don't leave the apartment for a week

either way you're having a lot of sex

like seriously

jack dante

it's hard work to get him to actually go through with the wedding

he is actually the one to propose to you

after sex of course

"babe, we should like, get hitched"

he means it, he does, but maybe in a more metaphorical way??

it takes some nagging but you finally get him to go down to the courthouse with you

there is definitely a legal/financial aspect of your marriage

like he may be the wild card employee but he gets paid ludicrously well for everything he contributes to the company (and to try and keep a little bit under control)

if something happened to him (and he has no doubt one day bob might just have him bumped off) he may as well give everything to you, there's no one else for it to go to

neither of you dress up for the ceremony

but you do buy some tacky bridal lingerie to wear underneath

another bare minimum ceremony

it's not your first rodeo doing it in a public restroom

it's almost romantic, a repeat of your first time

the white lacy panties are surprisingly very appreciated

you have to convince him to move back to his old apartment together now that you're married instead of hiding away at CHAANK

he honestly probably forgets you're even married until you bring it up

billy bibbit

he proposes to you

one day while you're at home on a sunday afternoon

lay together on the couch while you read

"h-hey, i h-h-have sssomething to a-ask you"

his stutters gets a tiny bit worse and you worry something is up

"l-l-listen, I-I rrreally love y-you a-a-a-and I-" he has to pause and collect himself

but you already know what he's going to ask and you can't keep from smiling

"w-will you m-m-mmmarry me?"

you throw your book aside and throw your arms around him

"yes! yes, of course I will billy!"

billy is a good christian boy so you have a good christian church wedding (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)

it's a very small wedding

only your favourite family members and closest friends come

same with billy

he feels incredibly guilty for not inviting his mother, but he hasn't seen her since he finally discharged himself from the hospital

you reassured him and remind him that this is the start of your lives together

he looks so dapper in his suit

you help him pick it out

he insists he doesn't want to see your dress until the big day

he cries when he sees you walk up the aisle

loves calling you his wife, and you calling him husband makes him feel wanted

puts your wedding photo in every room and carries it around in his wallet

sheriff brackett

he didn't expect he'd ever find someone he'd want to marry

(what with his last marriage ending the way it did)

when he realises he's truly in love with you, and you with him, he plans his proposal

it's nothing extravagant but it's absolutely perfect

you have a romantic dinner together and he does a whole speech about how much he loves you

and you see where it's going but you let him go on for a minute until you're like "do you want to ask me something?"

he flusters about it but is very cute and finally pops the question

"i - sweetie, i'd be honoured to make you my wife, will you marry me?"

you have a church wedding (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)

close family and friends only

cries when you walk down the aisle

annie gets very invested in helping with the planning and is probably more bothered about it than either of you are

you have a (very) classy dress

loves that he can call you his wife now !! the sheriff's wife !!

reception at your house, classic buffet

lowkey you both cannot wait untl everyone just leaves

*wink wink*

you do have a first dance in private though after everyone leaves

you're both soft and giggling and the song is a cheesy love song but it's perfect

your wedding night is the height of romance

your bridal lingerie really does it for him

what better start for your marriage than him making you cum so many times that you lose count?

doc cochran

you and doc didn't think you'd get married at all

neither of you felt the need to make anything official

you both consider yourself as his common law wife anyway

but something happens (either you get pregnant or some unrest with the camp politics makes the future seem uncertain) you decide you may as well tie the knot officially

there's no real proposal, he just sort of asks

you go to the Grand where E.B (being mayor) unfortunately has to officiate

you don't intend to invite anyone, saying it is no one elses business

but people catch wind (i.e. al, trixie and jane, merrick, maybe sol and seth) and basically invite themselves

you wear your best dress

and doc doesn't half scrub up well

Al invites you both back for a drink at the gem which you accept

("only one though, al" "sure, sure, you gotta get back home - the marriage bed is waiting - I understand")

the marriage bed is waiting though and you get kind of emotional when you go home together for the first time as husband and wife

funnily enough no one shows up at doc's that night for treatment and you have the whole night to yourselves

grima wormtongue

it takes you both a long time before you admit your feelings for each other and commit to having a relationship rather than a friends with benefits situation

marriages move fairly quickly in middle earth

no sooner are you engaged are you at the alter

wedding is moderately fancy because grima is doing pretty well being the king's adviser

few people actually show up who don't have to be there though because neither of you exactly have a lot of friends

grima almost clams up when it comes the ceremony because he doesnt want to say all this personal stuff about how much he loves you in front of other people

but you both get through it and finally, finally you are properly married

he's very emotional when you consummate your marriage but he tries to hide it

(but you know him too well)

tommy ludlow

he proposes one morning after sex

it's only just getting light and you both have to get up for work soon

you're still sweaty and his face is pressed into your neck

and in hushed tones you whisper back and forth

"will you marry me?"

it takes you a second to process what he said, "you wanna get married?"

"if you'll have me"

you kiss him and whisper "yes"

it's a church wedding for you and tommy (unless you have other religious/secular preferences)

he has a pretty big extended family and he has to invite them all

your dress and his suit are second hand

(because you're saving for better things)

laura takes a lot of photos for you

including the classic confetti toss one as you leave the church

takes you ages to comb all the confetti out of tommy's hair afterwards

cheesy first dance at the wedding reception

you can tell tommy is nervous so you joke around and make sure he doesn't take it too seriously

when you get home? goddamn you ride him like there's no tomorrow

(still in your wedding dress)

leo nova

it's go big or go home with him

80s fashion at its best

your dress is worth more than the rent on your old apartment

he doesn't see it before the wedding

you're surprised at how many traditions he sticks too despite him having the emotional range of a teaspoon

not many people get an invite to the ceremony but it's a wild after party

like a bunch of coked out 80s gangsters ?? amazing

the honeymoon is next level

you go to some tropical holiday resort (caribbean, thailand or spain) and it is all sun, sex and sangria for two whole weeks

tucker cleveland

didn't think he'd want to get married again

but in reality he just didn't like his first wife all that much

takes you out to dinner and proposes

when you say yes he is honestly relieved

but because he doesn't want to get emotional he calls over the waiter to get your free dessert

courthouse wedding

you do insist he wears a suit though and you buy a white dress

does the whole "just married" thing on the back of his truck

actually takes you on a honeymoon (sort of)

you go out of state and stay in a motel for a week

(vigorous sex ensues)

now you're married good and proper you can be his good little wifey

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janesramblings · 3 years

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Never Platonic

A drabble(ish) set during the events of 2x11.

The first time Nancy realizes something is wrong is when Ace snaps at her after she asks about the status of Nick’s phone. Bess goes to sooth him, and Nancy, in between everything else going on, can’t help but wonder what that was about.

The next time is when she’s stepping into the Claw to hear him inform Grant that he’s not food free in response to some offhand comment about the pan in Ace’s hand. She’s about to step over to him, but Bess beats her (again).

The third time is when he slams Florence to a stop at the dig sight. Everyone stumbles out of the car, except for Nancy.

“Nancy, get out,” Ace says, not unkindly.

“No. Not until you tell me what’s wrong with you.” Nancy’s voice is stern, and she knows that Ace knows she won’t budge until she gets answers.

Ace sighs and turns to look down at her. Keenly aware of their height difference, Nancy sits up as much as she can. She raises an eyebrow, her blue eyes almost green against her scarf. It’s one of those small details Ace wishes he didn’t notice, but he does. He considers staring back at her (he wouldn’t mind the view) until she relents, but that could take hours and it will be a matter of minutes before George comes banging on the car door. She’s impatient like that.

“Where were you two nights ago?” he finally asks.

A look of understanding crosses her face. It’s brief, and he wouldn’t have seen it if he hadn’t known to look for it. “I went out. It was a weird day and I needed a break.”

Ace nods slowly. “Yeah. I know. Which is why you went to clear the air with Tamura,” he spits out the name like it’s poisonous, “and you came back home right in time to make French toast with Bess and I at eight in the morning. So where were you for twelve hours? You wouldn’t have stayed in the police station all night would you? And there has to be a reason why Amanda was locked out of her brother’s house all night, right?”

Nancy gives him a look he can’t read. “Ace. If you know where I was then why did you ask?”

Ace can see George approaching the car, and he sees Bess pull her back and whisper in her ear. Ace ignores that in favor of looking into Nancy’s eyes. “Nancy. He’s trouble.”

Nancy makes a frustrated motion with her hands. “I’ve heard. A billion times. But why do you keep saying that when you’re dating his twin sister? Is she not trouble? Is she not messing up every dynamic we have in this group? Why is my happiness commented on but not yours? You dated Laura Tandy, Ace. Was she not trouble?”

“She was,” Ace says quietly.

“Then why do you keep saying this to me?”

Ace looks at her hands, twisted around her messenger bag. It would be so easy to take one, to squeeze it in his and hope that gesture conveys his feelings: that he loves her. That maybe he’s loved her for as long as he’s known her. That he finds her fascinating, and beautiful, and broken all at once. Maybe then she’d see that Gil will only hurt her, but at least Ace would try to help her find happiness again. Even if it didn’t include him forever.

“Ace?” she prompts.

Ace isn’t a man of big gestures. Maybe if he had the courage he’d lean forward and kiss her. But he doesn’t. “I care about you Nancy. I want you to be happy. And he won’t make you happy.” Nancy looks at him in a way that makes his heart flutter. “And I like Amanda. I do. But, some part of me wishes that it was you was dating. And I was going to ask you out. I was. But you didn’t seem to be in a good place and you just needed someone to be your friend and so I respected that but you’re turning to the wrong person. Really, you are.” Ace isn’t sure where these words are coming from, but he knows they’re true.

Nancy knows he kept talking after admitting his crush on her, but she doesn’t hear the words. “Part of me wishes that it was you” keeps floating around in her head, and for the first time in a while, she’s positive about something: she wishes it was Ace too. She wishes it more than anything else.

“Ace?”

“Yeah?”

“I wish it was you too.”

Ace flicks his eyes over her like he always does. Nancy had never considered it to be anything but platonic, but she realizes now that she was wrong. Nothing about Ace is platonic.

They lean in for a kiss at the same time, and right as their lips touch, George breaks free of Bess and raps on the car door. “Kiss some other time!” she shouts. Nancy sighs and leans her forehead against Ace’s.

“We’ll continue right after we finish this,” Ace mumbles to her.

“Agreed.”

The two stand close to each other as they bounce ideas off of each other about the archeologists and the deity they were studying. Ace is leaning over Nancy’s shoulder as she reads the word on the paper. “Grima-”

Nancy wakes to the sound of a scream. She’s in front of a truck. At least she thinks it’s a truck. A boy is laying in front of her. He seems a few years older than her. His hair is long, and when he opens his eyes, she notices that his ocean blue eyes are incredibly pretty.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” Nancy responds.

“Who was screaming?” a girl with long black hair asks.

“I think that was me,” another girl says. She’s got a British accent.

How’d she get here? Nancy wonders. Where is here?

The guy next to her stands. He’s cute, and his hair looks soft. She wonders briefly if it is. He catches sight of her looking at him. “Hi. Who are you?”

Nancy tilts her head for a moment. “I have no idea.” She pauses to look the guy over. “Who are you?”

#nace #nancy drew cw #ace (nancy drew)#sorry about the ending i had to

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verryberriess · 4 years

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How the King of Elfhame Lost His Stories | Part 1

tap picture for better quality :3

Rating: M (NSFW)

Synopsis: As long as Jude didn’t go back to the human world, she would remain by his side. (CANON-COMPLIANT)

Word Count: 6,206

A/N: Sorry!!! I take a long time to write, but I’m really excited about this. Thanks again to @maastrash for helping me with edits<3 :3

Cardan looked back at his queen, sleeping soundly on the bed beside him. He examined her sleeping profile: her luscious colored lips that always kept him wanting more, long eyelashes he admired for framing her walnut-colored eyes, and the line of her jaw that he loved to kiss over and over again. He laid beside her, resting his head against his palm while his arm took up his weight. Despite its king size, Jude had somehow managed to wrap most of the duvet around herself, leaving Cardan the meager edges to lie under.

Cardan didn’t mind. Some nights he would yank back the covers from her, a tug of war of sorts that usually lasted for hours on end, carrying on until someone fell asleep first. Sometimes the covers were tugged back unconsciously from the other’s grasp, which ended up leaving either Jude or him cold and freezing in the morning. Most nights, however, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, after a cozy entanglement of love making.

She was so cute, so beautiful, he thought. Curled up, Jude looked peaceful. Not a scowl in sight. This was Sleeping Jude, a side of Jude that only few are able to get to know well. A side of Jude that is sighted only when the sun is high and it is early twilight, where her breaths are even and relaxed and the stress of the night’s schemes didn’t hinder her. A side of Jude that only Cardan’s eyes were allowed to see.

He peered at the pendant that hung around her neck loosely. Crafted unprofessionally and held together by a simple snake knot, the leather string was weighed down by a rusty brass coin that seemed hastily carved with the initials “JD x CG”. How the thing had not yet been lost to time or turned into dust, despite these thousands of years, was beyond him. He smiled.

It was a cheesy gift, one that he had prepared quickly in the week before Jude’s coronation as queen. He gave it to her while he pulled her aside from the extravagance of the revel, wanting to have his newly crowned queen all to himself for at least once that night.

Cardan thought how utterly surreal it was since then. To think that he had spent thousands of nights since the coronation with this mortal woman that was his sweet nemesis, that he used to scorn and ridicule her just because she was disgustingly always on his mind. No, he couldn’t betray himself anymore. It wasn’t disgusting at all. He had welcomed those thoughts, and remembered how his eyes always seemed to find her form in the crowd, trailing after her, no matter the area or size of the crowd. And when she wasn’t in sight, her wicked presence had infested his mind, occupying the back of his thoughts like a parasite he would do nothing towards to resist. But now, she was next to him, besides him always. His wicked queen.

It was rare for him to have woken up before her. She had been tired lately, sleeping in more than usual. He watched the sun dip into the horizon and a flurry of colors overcast the sky, illuminating a soft glow around Jude from the opening between the curtains.

Slowly, she stirred. Her nose wrinkled and she shifted a bit, moving closer towards his direction. Her eyes puckered but they gradually opened. Jude blinked up at Cardan, while he stared back.

“How long have you been watching me sleep?” Jude asked accusingly.

Cardan smiled, his face of wicked amusement. “Never will I lose appreciation for my lovely wife’s incriminations, but I must admit that I’ve been awaiting your rising to kiss those hooded eyefolds of yours.”

“When did you ever start waiting to do something?”

“Since whenever it had to do with you.” Cardan put down the arm he had been resting his head upon, leaning in towards Jude. As he got closer, he watched Jude squeeze her eyes shut, allowing him to close the space between them. Cardan pressed his lips against the lid of her eye as promised, soon maneuvering to her neglected right. He pulled back and smiled.

Jude opened her eyes again, “Well that’s certainly one way to fully rouse me. I feel like it was only last night when we first exchanged our vows.” She propped herself up and flipped over the covers. It was time for her to get out of bed and go about her royal duties, but Cardan didn't want her escaping his presence just yet.

Rid of his tired daze, with a sudden haste Cardan catapulted himself out of the bed and made his way to the bathing room after Jude, who went towards the chamber pot, and bent over it. “Throughout our past thousands of years of marriage, I never believed that my kissing you would make you withdraw away from me.”

He prepped himself at the sink, as servants readied the bath for him. He watched Jude undress, slipping off her sheer nightgown and letting the air taste her nude flesh. He couldn’t help but admire her as he stripped out of his own satin night shirt. He would never tire of her form. He’s always been fascinated by the simplicity of the mortal figure. Surrounded by the complexity of the fae, Cardan was used to seeing mixed forms, of which consisted of fae with animalistic or plant aspects, though he had long accepted that he was a slave to Jude’s sloped breasts and sweet lies. Despite their nightly activities, and the fact that he and Jude had fulfilled each and every one of his sexual fantasies, seeing her nude body dip into the tub of rose water renewed his raging fervor for her. It was like seeing her without those garments and petty underthings for the first time again. Again and again. Every night.

He joined her in the tub. The water, infused with a few dozen oils and scents he never took the time to learn the names of, lapped at his skin.

“The depths of your desire is very apparent right now, Cardan.” Jude remarked.

“As always, dear wife.” He smirked.

Every now and then they would do this. He would wash her back, since he enjoyed the touch of her skin, while Jude arched against the tips of his fingers that lingered seconds too long. He never tired of the suds that he always popped and of Jude’s eye rolls at his childish behavior. They would banter before a silence befell them, soak up the essences of the water until their skins became raw and wrinkled, and get out of the bath to get ready for the night’s tasks.

Although Cardan knew she didn’t fancy it, ever since Jude had been crowned her wardrobe had become more extravagant than ever. He didn’t mind, especially since the range in lacy underthings had upgraded, much to his benefit. Though, Jude had added upon her own tastes as well: tops, pants, shorts, anything she’d be able to move fluidly in. Her collection of sword sheaths and belts further fascinated him, due to the pockets that fitted their respective array of knives, daggers, and other deadly poisons he wouldn’t dare wield.

Jude donned a pale blue court dress adorned with crow feathers, while he dressed in a black doublet with velvet cuffs, breeches, and a fur capelet. He tossed his own crown atop his hair, not worried about its placement.

“What do your royal duties consist of today?” Cardan inquired.

Jude set the crown onto her head and attached Nightfell to her hip as she strolled to the door, “The usual. Scheming, power-plays, and paperwork.” She pauses. “And, perhaps I may go out riding with Grima Mog.”

Cardan replied, “Ah, yes, I forget we are knee-deep in affairs with the Court of Teeth. Taking Grima Mog would make a fine decision.” He lowered into a chair, “Should you need my presence on your ride, however, I would much oblige.”

In response, Jude tilted her head and smiled, “I’ll keep that in mind. Join me for lunch, though?”

He thought of his own duties he would attend to today, but didn’t think twice about having lunch with Jude. He had never placed his work before her and wouldn’t ever even entertain such a ridiculous idea. “In the garden. With the silver-blue roses. Alone.”

Jude grinned harder before she was off. Cardan waited in the armchair, allowing the servants to commence dusting his cheeks with gold and adorning him with an assortment of jewelry. Besides her crown, pendant, and Nightfell, Jude rarely embellished herself in the other brooches and ornaments he had gifted to her. He knew she didn’t place value in such “meaningless trinkets,” as she called them, but he loved to see her in finery. To observe the shine of gold she occasionally wore not even be able to compete to her even more illustrious presence.

By the time Cardan yielded himself back to reality, the servants had already finished with him. He dismissed them.

Jude took command over his thoughts far too often the past few days. He was looking forward to lunch. Or, maybe it was because the anniversary of her coronation was coming up.

Cardan stood up and left their chamber.

He made his way to the study, meeting with a few members of the court to plan the final arrangements for the week-long revel in two days.

~.~.~.~.~

“And since it is the 1600th year of our reign, I expect no less than grandiose. I want feasts, debauchery, and excess— golden beetle thread embroidered onto seats, glowlight vines, wine! Goblets and carafes of the best mortal wine—“

A courtier, scribbling as fast as she could on her leaflets of notes, interrupted, “Your Majesty-- ”

Despite the disarray of the small audience in the room, Cardan continued without regress, “Everything must be labeled. Faerie wine, rosettes of meat, hazelnuts, and bread and cheese alike. Should I set my gaze upon even an inkling of faerie fruit or hear the slightest hint of the treachery against the queen, it’s off to the Tower of Forgetting.”

“Your pardon, our stores for mortal wine are depleted, I’m afraid.” Randalin, the Minister of Keys said worriedly, “The last time we’ve tried to replenish the stock was disastrous. According to the last Folk who ventured to the human world, the mortals had quite the frenzy discovering our… ah, differences.”

But Cardan interjected once again, “If it’s such a problem, why have we continued to rendezvous with the kind for so long? We’ve had thousands of nights with the beverage at no hindrances. Continue to do whatever you have done before to restore the stock.” With that, Cardan took a long swig from his goblet. He set it down, before continuing. “Any state matters shall be discussed elsewhere, in the strategy room, so that my wife is present to consult with the rest of your woes.”

The courtiers paled. Everyone in Elfhame was already well-aware of their queen’s reputation. Nonetheless, they respected her, as Cardan expected it so. Jude had grown into her power and legislation beautifully. Politics and schemes were in her favor, and cruelness and bloodshed at her behest. There was no room to humiliate, discredit, or taint her honor.

Cardan got up from his cushioned chair and made his way to the doorway. “Now, since this meeting has since been hours too long, I shall release myself. The pleasure of my world has been delayed long enough.” He left the courtiers to discuss among themselves the matters of the ball without him. They would be able to take care of it themselves.

He shut the door behind him and walked out into the hall. Cardan had long been accustomed to ruling, but he still found said matters of state boring. Although he would have liked to refrain from admitting such, his attention span was the size of a honey cake and his mind often wandered elsewhere. Nevertheless, he contributed to council meetings. He entertained his court with his musings, and he also found himself confident in complementing Jude’s decrees with his own advising. They balanced each other out.

Cardan carried a certain poise in his step as he walked throughout the halls of the palace. The estate had never been a home to him until he made those vows with Jude.

He got to the garden, satisfied at the sight of the picnic blanket and basket laid out upon the grass amongst the green scenery. He was glad that the Bomb had gotten his message about getting someone to set up the picnic for them. The meeting had taken three hours, and he couldn’t help but doze off at the thought of lunch the whole time. Although he and Jude ate together regularly, it wasn’t every day that they had cute setups. Cardan smiled in victory to himself. How victorious it felt to have come up with an excellent idea. A picnic in the garden! Where Jude had disposed of his deceased brother!

Settling himself on the picnic blanket, he waited for Jude’s arrival. The moon was bright tonight, allowing him an easy glance at the green around him, with the occasional difference in hue in the trees and flowers. Night sprites buzzed and sounded the air with a light hum. He tinkered with the woven twigs that made up the basket, poking and prodding at the delicate framework to pass the time.

Too immersed in his new plaything, the crackle of laughter above him startled him. He looked up at Jude’s laughing form. She held her sides, looking like she was trying to hold herself together, and her body bent at some awkward angle. This was another side of Jude he appreciated.

He had discovered her ability to laugh early in their marriage. Before then, in contrast, he couldn’t remember a time when she had ever laughed while in his presence. He knew he, himself, was to blame for who he was back then. The first time he had delighted at her laughter, he wordlessly promised himself he would try to encourage her laughter and happiness further. He wanted to hear the sound every day-- let it replace the honey wine he used to drown himself in.

It was back when both he and Jude journeyed to the human world to visit Vivi and Heather. Cardan was fascinated by the tiny space that Jude had once lived in while in exile. He couldn’t believe his eyes at the way humans lived without magic, utilizing light and a continuous flow of charge to power their suspicious devices and supposedly, their whole world. He had been confused at the combination of tomato and cheesy bread, but deemed it appetizing. And when he had tried to glamour his attire to match that of the styles of what the humans wore, he was so utterly confused, he found Jude uncontrolled in a way that was full of energy, doubling over and eyes squeezed shut as she clutched at her belly. He guessed that his attire was what caused her reaction, so he replaced his doublet with some shirt that belonged to Vivi’s human friend. Regardless, apparently his newly upgraded state of dress appeared even more ridiculous because it had provoked Jude to laugh even harder.

How unfair of her. She was as unsuited to the human world as himself, but he loved the glow of her happiness when she laughed. So he had grinned back in return.

“You looked like you required no other company besides yourself and that basket of yours!” Jude called.

Cardan sensed a trend in Jude’s source of laughter.

“Well, I admit this basket makes fine company, but I wouldn’t think it would make for great long term companionship.” Cardan retorted. If causing Jude’s laughter was to be at his expense, he may perhaps go along with her foolery.

“Yes, and I would.”

“You’re not wrong. It neither speaks nor sneers. It’s convinced me to not partake in pursuing this friendship further, however disappointed it may be.” Cardan watched Jude take a seat next to him. She proceeded to flip open the lid of the basket, going through the collection of assorted foods inside.

“A grave loss,” Jude confirmed. “What do we have here?” She asked incredulously, waving out the small cardboard box. The box was twelve inches in diameter. Its smell was extremely pungent but nostalgically familiar-- something he hadn’t had in a long time. He couldn’t decipher what it was. Jude set the box on the blanket between them and lifted up the lid. “Pizza?” Her eyes widened at him.

“Ah, so this is how the royal kitchen interprets ‘savory for a human.’ I’m quite pleased, I hadn’t known that this is what they would plan.” Cardan answered.

“Its smell rivals that of humans'. Did they make it themselves?” Jude had already taken it upon herself to grab a slice. The strings of cheese were reluctant in parting with themselves in the other slices, but it stood no chance against Jude’s merciless attack.

Jude looked so casual. She had flayed out her dress so that she could extend her legs across the blanket, removing her shoes in the process so she sat barefoot. Another side of Jude he loved, Cardan noted. How she could be so effortless in her movements and still be able to disarm him. To others, she was a fierce murderess. Conversely, to him, she was always a seductress in waiting, yielding secrets about herself to him in bits and pieces that he lapped up so eagerly and fervently. It had already been more than a thousand years, yet he still had so much he needed to know about her.

“I’m confident that they did.” Cardan grabbed a piece for himself and bit into its tip with conviction. He knew exactly what pizza was now. And how to eat it. Cardan had accumulated an Insmoor’s worth of experience eating the savory dish throughout the first few times he and Jude visited the human world. “Many are too cowardly to simply fetch wine from a mortal department store.” He relished in the ratio between the sauce and cheese. He appreciated the effort the chefs had put in to add the prawns as toppings, allowing him to reminisce of their first journey there.

“I suppose that it’s good for the stores to have depleted. I’d like to lay low on the liquor for a while.” Jude continued to bite into her pizza. Small specks of red sauce stained the area around her mouth.

Not a strange request since Jude had never been a big drinker, but ever since they had gotten mortal alcohol that's safe for her to drink, Jude indulged herself on occasion. Cardan smiled at the thought. She ought to hold her liquor better. At their last event, while Cardan had downed goblets after goblets of faerie fruit cocktails to get himself past tipsy, she had already been a stumbling mess at the table.

“That would delight the courtiers in excess. Dear wife, so you do have a heart after all. ” He mused.

“In some circumstances.” With only three slices left, they had almost finished the pizza. “Do you remember when we journeyed to the hidden lake in Insmire a few weeks ago, where we conversed of forever together?”

Cardan answered, “... We have an eternity and a few. Why, are you worried that your days will have become a bore and that your love for me will shrivel? Fear not, for I will never allow that.”

“I have been resting more often than late, but I have never been bored. In fact, things have actually become more interesting…”

Weeks ago, Cardan took Jude through the Milkwood to visit the hidden lake he had used to traverse to by himself.

It was a secret spot, one only known to a few, and he took Jude there for the first time, to finally reveal one of his long kept secrets. Despite the title he had given it, the lake was more like a large pond, home to hundreds of forest and water sprites, pixies, and nymphs.

When the moon was at its brightest, where it was closest to the surface of Elfhame in its orbit, the brilliance of the lake was unparalleled. Pixies and sprites alike illuminated the surroundings to reflect the moonlight that shone upon the crystal waters, overcasting a soft glow in the midst of the dark surroundings. It was at this time where not only the creatures and faerie of the Milkwood celebrated the glow of the moon, but the flowers, waters, insects, and soil participated as well. It was at only this time of year when the hidden lake’s flowers of gold and cerulean hues bloomed in full, casting off a shimmering spectacle of reflective light among the greenery.

But to wait thousands of years for the perfect time to show Jude, had been absolutely devastating to him. He had only wanted to show her his favorite spot when it was at its finest, disappointing himself year after year when he had to refuse her requests to venture to the lake.

“It’s absolutely beautiful,” Jude whispered, her eyes taking in the sight of the hovering flower sprites. “To think that you’ve been hiding this after all this time. How cruel of you.”

“I just wanted to wait until the time was right-- when the moon is at its closest and brightest.” Cardan explained. “Every year I surveyed the stars, confronted Baphen of the state of the moon, waiting and waiting for the perfect time to take you. And when I finally got an answer that the time would be tonight, after more than four thousand years since the last Moondrop, I knew my efforts to outsmart your scheming, pesky stalking, and fake anguish would all be worth it. And it is. Your glowing, my sweet Jude.”

Jude grinned. Beautiful and wide. Lashes brimmed against the soft smooth of her cheeks when she smiled so hard, he could tell her cheeks strained. “I love you.”

Cardan’s cheeks burned. His face felt so hot, and later the rest of his body. His tail had gotten out free, twitching back and forth excitedly, enamored by the buzz of his thoughts and feelings for the mortal woman before him. “I love you too.”

He tugged Jude against him, hugging her tightly against his chest. This-- having her soft body pressed up against his, molding to fit against his frame, and her soft pretty lips so close to his own he felt, rather than heard, the slight breaths that escaped her, and the hair that framed her face ticking his chin. By the gods, he wanted to kiss her so badly. He loved her so much, so, so much. The only figure who had shown him love in this life, how to love, and how it felt to feel desired and wanted. Everything was mutual between them. It was too good to be true.

This mortal woman that he had tricked himself into hating for the longest time in his youth, was the one he wanted by his side forever. Cardan clutched Jude so tightly, like he was afraid she would disperse into thin air before him and take away every feeling of love she had permitted him. He clutched each of her declarations so tightly to his heart, never in his life had he felt so overwhelmed and obsessed with something. Only when it came to her.

He started with her lips, not at all soft or light. He pressed his lips into hers fiercely, wanting to taste all of her. And when that wasn’t enough, he met her tongue in a passionate dance, that ultimately turned into a battle of wills between two stubborn souls, relentless and unyielding. They shared breaths, and Jude reached up a hand to run up the side of his taut muscles, his body hot and aroused from the scalding tension between them.

Jude pulled away, though she was still near enough so he could feel her deep exhalations from their lack of air. She spoke softly, as if she had only wanted Cardan to hear the words she was about to speak, “Cardan, do you want to try?”

His mind rolled into blank space. He didn’t understand what else she wanted to try. He thought they had tried out all of the positions his and Jude’s fantasies had dreamt up of, but apparently not, however. “Try what?” He finally asked. He was a little annoyed. He felt feverish from the heat building up within him, and the sight of Jude right now only intensified his fervor.

She rolled her eyes in response. “For a kid. For you to be a father, idiot.”

Without further provocation, Cardan clasped his hands around her middle and pulled them towards the banks of the lake. He heard Jude let out a quiet gasp as he used his momentum to twist themselves off the edge. They were airborne for milliseconds, wrapped around each other until they heard the crash of the lake water envelope their hearing. Cardan had flipped them so that he would take most of the impact, using a bit of his magic to soften their crash through the water, which caused the surface of the lake to fracture in lingering ripples. But now, all they could feel was the sensation of their beings underwater, making a gradual descent from the surface until the pressure slowly pulled them upwards again. Their movements were languid against the syrup of the water, sounds muted, and only Cardan’s overwhelming glee and desire for his wicked queen mattered. He never realized until then how he ought to engage in underwater kisses more.

They broke the water’s surface and had engaged in each other for the rest of the night.

Cardan watched Jude put down her goblet of water and slowly place her hands atop her stomach.

His eyes widened. He couldn’t distinguish between what was louder: the stunned silence that blared between the two, or the rapid increase in booms that sounded from his chest. Sounds and feelings were elevated at headlong, where he was stuck in an indescribable state of everything and nothingness, that is, until everything rushed back at him.

“Y-you’re…” Cardan blabbered.

Jude smiled, but her eyes misted, where tears gathered.

And then Cardan continued the merciless assault against her he had cultivated on Moondrop. With intense love and devotion and adoration for the woman next to him, he descended upon her in a song of nervous anticipation and joy. Cardan worshipped Jude, her body, and her devastating power over him like the Queen that she was, in a certain reckless abandon that once his lips met hers the energy became so heated and hungry.

In contrast to the fevered energy that pulsed around them, in the distance, chirping sounds relentlessly insisted a festive tune. A flurry of white and blue rose petals fluttered in the surroundings, carried by a cold breeze that Cardan welcomed against his hot skin. Cardan saw none of the Folk around them. They were utterly alone, in a sacred spot away from the fence of blooming elderflowers and the nosiness of tree sprites, away from any eyes that could spot them committing mischief. So they proceeded.

His tongue glided along her bottom lip, demanding entrance, which Jude obliged heartedly. His tongue plunged inside the depths of her mouth, tangling with hers, probing and exploring. She moaned, which only heightened his desire and need. “Jude... I need you” Cardan breathed. His shaky grip on control loosened further. His head swam and he felt Jude’s own body sing for him, as she melted into him effortlessly.

He moved his palms up and down her skin, his thumb brushing down the slope of her shoulders to the length of her arms. Jude, in exchange, explored the muscles of his lean frame, as she had done more than a thousand times in her life. He nuzzled in closer, and was unable to form a single coherent thought, other than relishing in the taste of Jude and the utter beautifulness that was her. Jude quickly undid the buttons of his doublet. Afterwards, she got up to strip off her dress while Cardan shimmied out of his breeches.

Cardan trailed his fingers along the lace of her black bra, expertly unhooking the offending material and discarding it into the grass. He gave her a predatory look, unable to hide his hunger and lust any longer. He moved to cup Jude’s breasts, gently squeezing, where she arched into his touch and elicited another breathless moan. She fell back again, allowing him further access, so he trailed his lips over the warm expanse of her neck, tracing her collarbones with his tongue, while his hands busied themselves deep within her. His tail unknowingly brushed against her ass, its sensual touch contributing to her pleasure.

But Jude, unable to allow Cardan to handle the reins for any longer, crouched over him, pressing her body against his and the ground. She kissed him again, sensuously, taking her time to first kiss his eyelids, the arch of his nose, lips, cheekbones, and the sharp planes of his face and body. She left a sloppy trail down his neck, along his chest and abdomen. Cardan groaned. His eyes rolled back into his head, an accumulating heat building up in him.

She positioned herself so that her entrance hovered above that of Cardan’s length.

“Cardan,” Jude called. “I am beside you. Always.”

And that was his undoing.

Cardan analyzed the unmasked elation in her gaze as he locked eyes with her. He climbed back on top of her and seized control from Jude. He wanted to attend to her-- to express every bit of passion and sentiment that that statement alone had stirred in him.

He wanted to give her everything-- provide his child and his queen with everything: power, riches, love. He would give his child a boundless love that stemmed from a bottomless well that had accumulated over the years, in thanks to Jude. He would give his child the childhood he never had and never allow them to experience the cruelty and neglect that he had unknowingly accepted throughout his adolescence.

Cardan held her steady, slipping inside with little difficulty. He rocked himself against her hips, and pushed against her harder, faster, until his name fell from Jude’s soft, cherry lips listlessly, like a sort of begging that furthered him into the abyss.

~.~.~.~.~

Afterwards, Cardan and Jude left for their rooms. They showered--together-- and advanced their little ministrations and teases until they separated again, to finish the day’s tasks.

Jude went on a ride with Grima Mog. He trusted her that she’d be safe, but now, he was worried for her safety more than ever.

In addition to Jude’s anniversary of her coronation, he wanted to announce the existence of his heir. Shouting it into the skies wouldn’t be enough. He wanted to profess it to Elfhame-- the world-- of the news. But, he guessed a month-long revel of feasts and serenades would have to suffice.

Cardan gazed at the ceiling, observing the candles and lights that illuminated the room. He had forgotten that the Minister of Keys was present, muttering indistinct nothings that he had long chosen to ignore before he focused on the faerie. He lowered the paper he had been analyzing, eyes narrowing and blacking by the second. The minister across the room managed to lower himself by another two degrees. “My King, everything is written in detail. A scribe wrote down a list of the specific themes and characteristics that will be administered at the celebration.”

He glared at the frail script of black on parchment. It was hard not to chew the inner lining of his mouth but he refrained the chagrin. “Enlighten me, Randalin, what does ‘Ask the mortal Devil-Queen for her preference in the color of flowers. Apparently the High King wants to obtain more mortal wine, but at the cost of a few of our Folk’s wits. It does not sit well with Cockroach-face, for he believes that the Queen should dance merrily to our festive tunes. He also proposes we shall try to let the Queen decide on what specific brand she most especially esteems--” mean to you? Does the word ‘surprise’ carry a different meaning to the lot of you?” Cardan crumpled the parchment and threw it into the fire.

Randalin mutely winced. “I supplemented your scribe’s diligent notes in red ink for clarification, my lord. The exchange between you and Yorn and the other courtiers lasted for three hours. Your scribe’s stamina was stupefying. She scribbled non-stop.”

“And new, I presume.” Cardan retaliated.

“Certainly, my king. The scribe went off to our queen for her input, but with ill fortune, the queen has been out. The scribe returned with no information of importance.”

Cardan glared ominously at the wordy fool.

Randalin sputtered, “Y- your Majesty! I shall rewrite the report.”

“We have been entertaining revels and gatherings with human refreshments for as long as I could remember. What makes this one so different that you lot have retracted towards such difficulties?”

Randalin grew red. His form quivered in the increasingly displeased presence of his high king. “It-- well--” Randalin paused, unable to form words coherent enough for his tongue.

“Nonsense,” Cardan remarked. “Times have changed. It is whatever, for now. You may relax, we won’t be having the presence of human alcohol for quite a few months. Refill the stocks as you can.”

Cardan watched the Minister of Keys instantly loosen, yet fright and tension still tormented his will. “That is… that is most incredibly generous of you, your Majesty. We are so utterly grateful for your extended benevolence.”

“As you should.”

Randalin shifted, but asked tentatively. “But may I ask… what inspired this... sudden change?”

“You will know in two night’s time.”

“That is the celebration!”

“Indeed, it is.” Cardan dismissed Randalin. He left the room with thundering footsteps; the door slammed shut.

Cardan walked through the halls again, wanting to work alone in his study.

Royal guards and sentries lined the halls and bordered the gates of the private doors of the palace.

Cardan studied documents and parchments in his study for hours before he resigned himself to dinner, where he took his meal alone.

He regarded Jude’s whereabouts. It wasn’t unusual for her to go out for a few days at a time, but she usually told him beforehand about what she would be up to. He picked at his charcuterie plate, that consisted of breads, cheeses, grapes and a goblet of honey wine. He tried to shake off the uneasy feeling he felt in his gut, calming himself before he impulsively told his guards to call for Jude and his Grand General back to the palace.

“Dessert, your majesty?” A servant walked up to him to refill his wine.

“Thank you, but I’d like to do without tonight.” He replied.

“Of course. I’ll clear this for you,” the servant cleared the plates and boards from the table, leaving the carafe and goblet, before scuttling away. The servant’s whiskers twitched in dismay at the king’s sullen mood.

Cardan sat at the table, continuing to guzzle himself away. He attributed his raging worry for Jude towards the fact that their unborn child lay inside of her, but he was also excited for Jude’s return. He waited for hours in his cushioned chair at the dining table.

Later, he decided that he would retire early for the night, escaping into the bliss of his chambers that would surround him in Jude’s scent.

He closed the curtains of his room tightly, leaving no room for the noon’s light to seep in. He changed into his sleep clothes, rid himself of makeup and jewels that peppered his being, and laid in the bed.

By the time Cardan was able to fall asleep, he was awoken by a volley of furious knocks at his door. He could see the sun’s shine that casted a faded glow beneath the thickness of his curtains. Grumpily, he trudged to the door, and yanked it open.

He looked forward to seeing Jude at the door, even though it was so bright and early for him to be woken at this time, but was disappointed to find The Roach and The Bomb in front of him.

Before he could utter a word out at their overconfidence to be at his doorstep that morning, they beat him in answering of Jude’s regards.

“Your Majesty!” The Roach cried. “Grima Mog has returned, but without Her Highness!”

Cardan froze. His hands began to shake uncontrollably. His knees buckled under him, leading him to crash onto the floor, commissioning the rough of the oak floorboards to wound his knees. He was unable to discern whether he felt fright or rage, but without another word and with little strength, he got to his feet again, and ran out of the room.

Tags: @maastrash @b00kworm @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @fantasyfox101 @curlyredqueen06

Let me know if you want to be tagged via comments/ask!

#how the king of elfhame lost his stories #jurdan #jurdan fanfic #jude #jude duarte #cardan #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #high king cardan #tfota #tfota fanfic #the cruel prince #the wicked king #verryberriess

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lost-writers-world · 3 years

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The Folk Of The Air Series by Holly Black: Series Review

I am reviewing the entire series in one post, just to prevent a large amount of unneeded posts. Will be doing that for series that I own or have read multiple books in. I will only post the summary of the first book to keep the post shorter.

The Cruel Prince: 4/5 stars

The Wicked King: 4/5 stars

The Queen of Nothing: 5/5 stars

How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories: 5/5 stars

The Cruel Prince Summary: "Guard your mortal heart. Jude was seven when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King. To win a place at the Court, she must defy him- and face the consequences. As Jude becomes more deeply embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, she discovers her own capacity for trickery and bloodshed. But betrayal threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself."

Reviews for all four books below (Spoilers)

The Cruel Prince Review: I really enjoyed this book. Jude is such a badass main character. She is a strong and capable, and has complex emotions that make her feel real. You know that Jude isn't a a perfect person, but you relate to her, and want her to succeed. Cardan is a toss up in the first book, which is good. I believe that a good enemies to lovers needs that uncertainty. When Cardan and Jude kiss in the Court of Shadows you don't know if they are in love, or just have tension. Their relationship is more believable because it takes the for it to progress. Black has a good sense of timing throughout the series, making the build up investing. The plot twist at the end, with Jude crowning Cardan as High King, instead of Oak was amazing. Black left clues to Jude's plan, and the reveal is just amazing. You have a strong taste for the universe, and crave more.

The Wicked King Review: In my opinion, the weakest book of the series, but still very good. I liked the natural progression of the characters into the second book, but has some nitpicks. Locke turn to having Jude almost killed is a little extreme and seems out of character. I know Locke is supposed to crave drama, but this is a different level that I was kinda confused by. I also didn't like the time in the Undersea kingdom. It was an interesting idea, and brought forth a lot of good, but the time Undersea could have been condensed a bit. Other than those two gripes, the book was fantastic. It brings back the important plot point of Nicasia and Cardan's relationship, removes two of Elfhame's big threats (the undersea and Balekin) and leaves the biggest threat in the most power (Madoc). Jude's exile was an interesting plot point, that makes the story much more high stakes. Why would Cardan exile Jude right after their wedding? Yeah, sure, she killed Balekin, but he was the one who started the challenge anyway.

The Queen of Nothing Review: Queen of Nothing was a great final book. All major loose ends are tied up. Cardan and Jude end up happy together. Elfhame is a better place. Locke is dead. Jude's strange broken family is back together. It is just a good ending. Black wraps up the main plot all nicely, after upping the stakes in the last book. Jude has to influtrate the Court after her banishment, but is caught my Cardan. He tries to let her know she is allowed back, but is cut off by Madoc rescuing her, thinking she is her sister. It is a mess, but so much fun. There isn't a single wasted page, or plot point that didn't need to be there. Action after action after action. All to end with a happy ending, the one everyone deserves.

How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories: This companion book is a short collection of stories from Cardan's life. Throughout the main series, we get to hear about these important childhood events in Cardan's life, and in this book, we see how they went down. Cardan's meetings with Grima Mog, the framed murder that got him kicked out of the palace, Balekin's abuse, how Cardan got a hold of the Alice in Wonderland book from book one, Nicasia and Cardan's relationship and its downfall, Cardan developing feelings from Jude, it is all there. Along with a framing story of present day Jude and Cardan on their way to fight Grima Mog. A lovely addition that clears up any confusion of Cardan and his life.

#tfota #the cruel prince #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #book review #bookish #book reccs #holly black #enemies to lovers #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #how the king of elfhame learned to hate stories

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scarletaire · 3 years

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homeland (Chapter 4)

A/N: This is the chapter I’ve been most looking forward to and most nervous about to write! I’m excited to finally put it out into the world ❤️

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Genre/s: Contains Fluff, Slight Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Smut

Rating: E

Tags: Post-QON, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Protective!Cardan, Bewildered!Jude, Jude and Cardan discuss the Undersea, but they get a little Distracted

Description:

Cardan’s eyes flash open.

“Why?” he repeats, and Jude feels the power shift between them. “Don’t you remember, wife?” he croons. “It was the Undersea who stole you away from me.”

And Jude has only enough time to think, danger, before he lunges at her.

or:

Cardan and Jude work on removing their armor. Taking off this particularly stubborn piece happens in varying states of undress.

Links: Masterlist | AO3

Jude wakes alone to an empty room.

The first thing she notices is that she’s in the royal suite. Someone has laid her out on the giant silkspun bed and folded the covers gently over her. She’s been stripped of her clothes and returned to the nightgown that she slept in.

The second thing she notices – her head is killing her.

She struggles into a sitting position and immediately regrets it. There is a cold ache at the base of her skull, and it radiates up into her skull without mercy the more that she tries to move. She has to catch her forehead in her hand because it’s almost impossible to keep her head up. Her muscles feel sore, like she’s just finished a brutal sword match with five of Grima Mog at the same time.

Has she been poisoned?

Pressing the heels of her palms over her eyes, Jude tries to think through the fog of pain. She runs through the list of poisons that she once upon a time routinely fed herself in order to bargain immunity. She comes up worryingly short: it isn’t wraithberry, because the speed of her pulse when she presses her fingers to her wrist is normal, if a little slow from slumber. It isn’t blusher mushroom, either, because paralysis should have set in by now. And the fact that she woke up from sleep at all refutes the possibility of deathsweet.

Her body aches, her head is pounding, her blood is cold underneath her skin despite all of the blankets, and more than anything, she’s pissed.

It’s either someone failed spectacularly at poisoning her properly, or whatever it is, it’s something completely new.

And new means that she has no immediate plan for it. New means that she’s just as helpless as anyone else.

All she has consumed up to this point came from the food tray she ate from before she set out for Insear. That immediately rules it out because then that means that Cardan should also be –

Her thoughts screech to a halt.

Cardan.

She told Cardan about kissing Balekin in the Undersea.

And then she’d – blacked out.

Jude’s mind races to recall his reaction. Was he angry? Insulted? Disgusted? But just like with the poison she draws a blank. Her memory of that moment is too foggy to sift through, and she is left wondering if she’s made a mistake.

She needs to talk to Cardan. She needs to talk to him now.

That’s when Tatterfell comes bustling in.

She takes one look at Jude, her black eyes roving over her undressed form, and tuts. “You should be ready for the revel.”

Jude attempts to sit up a little straighter, but it only makes her grit her teeth when her head swims. “Where is the High King?”

“It appears he has stepped out.”

“Out?”

Tatterfell shakes her head. “He left in a hurry. The night’s revels are about to begin. Perhaps he went to check on preparations.”

“Of course. Preparations.”

If the imp is put off by Jude’s monotone responses, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she motions for her to take her place in front of the mirror. Jude makes her way over, but her body is sluggish and slow to respond. She clenches her fists and pushes herself out of bed, refusing to show any weakness in front of her old attendant.

“Anything will do for tonight,” Jude says, nodding at the closet. The last thing she cares about right now is what she’s going to wear. Her mind reels with all the things she needs to say to Cardan, with all the things that he could say to her. She’ll find him at the revel, and then they’ll… talk.

“No matter.” Tatterfell’s voice is inscrutable. “Your garments have already been provided for.”

With a flourish, she unfurls the dress that she is carrying over her arms. It’s styled after a peacock: plumed feathers of royal blue and vibrant turquoise make up the bodice, and a fall of shimmering, night sky fabric makes up the skirt.

Despite everything, Jude’s eyes go wide.

This time, there is no sleep-softened husband to help her into her clothes. No soft looks from beneath eyelashes. No lingering touches. Instead, Tatterfell unlaces the discernibly negligible back of the dress, and looks up at her impatiently.

When Jude steps into it, the soft tips of the feathers kiss her bare collarbones, and the iridescent skirt flows down close to her legs; it spreads out where it reaches the floor, the multi-colored hem fanning out to mimic the way a peacock spreads its plumage.

The effect is extraordinary. Elaborate. Extravagant.

It has Cardan written all over it.

“Troublesome affair, this Insear business,” Tatterfell remarks, pulling Jude’s hair up into a high ponytail. She’s extending the ends of it with lengths of gold-tipped feathers that spill like a peacock’s crest down her back.

Jude’s head is now twice as heavy, and her headache now twice as powerful.

It takes far more effort than it should to respond. “I expect that after tonight it won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Yes, I should very well hope so. For the king’s sake.”

The comment is odd, but Jude’s too weary to mull it over. The way the dress bares her shoulders and arms does nothing to ward off the chill on her skin. Tatterfell clucks at the gooseflesh as she begins the finishing touches of makeup and bodypaint.

“Woe the constitution of a mortal,” she mutters under her breath. It seems that the honor of attending to the High Queen of Elfhame is not enough to rid her of her conservations. “Just today your sister snapped at the servants and commanded that all meals be delivered to her rooms. Complaining of swollen feet and an aching back, of all things.”

“Yes,” Jude says, dryly, “I suspect that’s what being eight months pregnant will do to anyone.”

Tatterfell is unfazed. “She says to tell you she’s sorry to miss the revel. But she sends her well wishes to you and His Majesty.”

Looking in the mirror, Jude thinks of the way Taryn’s features have swelled and changed while carrying her child. It’s all entirely too easy to imagine the changes on herself, because they look so much alike. But as Tatterfell finishes dusting shimmering blue and turquoise powder over her eyelids and cheekbones, then her collarbones, and her wrists, the comparison ends abruptly.

The woman looking back at her in the mirror is unearthly – untouchable, in her own way. She does not look like a nauseous, fatigued human. She looks like the High Queen of Faerie, with her dress of majestic feathers and glittering stars.

The only thing missing is her king.

If he wanted me to wear something he picked out, she thinks to herself, settling her crown on top of her head, he should’ve helped put it on me himself.

Well. That means that she’ll just have to show him, and make him regret it.

_______________

The revel is in full swing when Jude arrives.

The crowd of Folk clap and bow and part to make a path for her, and she gets her full glimpse of Cardan’s Insear peace revel for the first time.

He’s outdone himself. The high ceilings of the ballroom are a mastery of golden lanterns and strings of deep blue roses. No branch goes unadorned, no vine left empty. The whole room is effused with soft, enchanting light, the revelers plied with glasses of bubbling, aquamarine liquor. Even the moss on the walls seem to glow with serene luminescence. This is no space for fighting or hostility. A peace revel, through and through.

And it’s with a jolt that Jude realizes that the room, the decor – the gold, the blue, the turquoise –

It matches her. It matches her dress.

Here, in this revel that Cardan has crafted, she completely and wholly belongs.

Something trips in her chest. It might be her heart.

Jude turns her head immediately toward the throne, where she knows he’ll be waiting. The gravity in the room shifts the moment Cardan comes into her field of vision, and she finds herself tilting in his direction without even thinking. It is disconcerting, how easily he pulls her toward him. She can’t tell if it’s because he wields the power of all of Elfhame or because she’s hopelessly in love with him.

Tonight he wears a cape of ebony feathers and silver chains; dressed head to toe in black, he is the stark midnight contrast to her. He looks every inch the king she made him. His smile holds more promise than a knife.

Jude straightens her back, ignoring the soreness in her limbs and the ache in her head. He wants her to come to him? Fine.

But he’s already getting up from the throne and walking away. The tips of his black curls disappear into the crowd while she stands there, frozen.

He walked away. He turned his back on her.

The fury is icy in her veins. The feeling is close to embarrassment if she were being truthful with herself, but in this moment, she can’t care enough to think about it. She stalks after him, as gracefully as she can amidst the crowd of revelers watching her every move, and she ends up following the tail of his feathered cape all the way up to the secret door behind the throne. Jude sweeps aside the curtain of evergreen and storms inside.

The room has been altered only slightly for the revel. There is the same couch pushed up against the far corner, but the ceiling has been painted over in golden constellations to match the glowing lanterns outside.

“Interesting choice for a meeting place.”

The voice comes from behind her, and Jude moves on instinct. The knife comes from the holster on her ankle, and it gleams silver under the ivy-filtered moonlight as she turns on her visitor, shoving him roughly against the mossy wall.

“I was wondering where you were keeping that,” Cardan says, idly.

“Cardan,” Jude hisses. “How did you sneak up on me?” She hadn’t heard him approach at all. Just how badly is the poison affecting her?

He raises an imperious eyebrow, looking far too comfortable for someone with a knife to his throat. “Must I remind you, I am every bit a part of the Court of Shadows as you are.”

She grits her teeth. “I was supposed to be following you.”

“Yes. And then I decided to follow you instead.” Now both of his eyebrows go up. “I didn’t foresee that you would pick here of all places, what with the revel and all, but I can’t say I’m not intrigued.”

“Stop deflecting.” Because that’s exactly what he’s doing, isn’t it? With his easy posture and the smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. She sees right through him, but not enough to understand why there’s a mask in the first place. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Something shutters in his expression, the edges of his amusement going the slightest bit duller. “No, Jude. You’re the only thing I can’t run away from.”

She presses him harder against the wall. She’s too tired for any of this. Her body aches. Her head hurts. She doesn’t have the energy or the patience left for another one of Cardan’s moods. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But instead of answering, Cardan hooks his ankle behind hers and pulls her stance out from under her. Jude loses her balance, and he uses the momentum to swing her around and press her against the wall. She’s too dizzy to fight it, the sudden movement making her head swim.

Her knife falls to the ground, cushioned by the soft, grassy loam.

His smile has returned. But it’s the one he hides behind, the one that she thought she was seeing less and less of when it was just the two of them together. Something cold settles in her stomach the moment she sees it.

“Shall we play a little game, darling?” he croons into her ear.

“This is no time for games,” she snaps.

“Oh, I disagree. I think this is the perfect occasion.”

“Cardan.”

“Want to know what the game is?” His voice has gone deadly soft. “It’s called, ‘Show me how he touched you.’”

Jude goes very, very still.

He pulls back just enough so that he can gauge her expression. So that she can see the hard emotion in his eyes as he looks her over. She gets the uncomfortable feeling that it’s something she should recognize.

Her first thought is that he is being facetious. She searches his eyes for any trace of drink or drug. She finds none. This is no jest. He is being entirely, unlaughably serious.

And not for the first time when it comes to him, Jude finds that she is the tiniest bit afraid.

Cardan closes the scant distance between them again, bracing an arm against the wall by her head. He doesn’t trap her physically. No, it’s much worse. He traps her by the promise of his proximity, a promise that she could gorge herself on and never get her fill.

And that’s what she’s most afraid of, really. Not him. But what she’s willing to let him do to her, if only he would come closer.

“This is all I could think of,” he murmurs, “watching you during the revel. You can never make it easy for me, can you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s not a lie.

“No, I don’t suppose you would. You have a way of doing that to me. Making me suffer with nary a forethought.”

“Cardan –”

“Tell me.” His voice is so steady, so calm. Too calm. “Did he come close to you, like this?”

As he speaks, his other hand comes up to rest on the wall as well, so that he is holding himself above her, their bodies merely inches apart.

She doesn’t respond.

“It’s easy,” he says, gently. Almost kindly. Jude doesn’t believe it for a second. “I’ll make a guess, and you tell me if I’m right. Is this how my brother approached you?”

Whatever she thought would come out of her confessing the truth about Balekin, it definitely wasn’t this.

“Answer me, Jude. Play the game.”

A short breath escapes her. “No.”

“No?”

There’s a hidden question there, and Jude realizes her response must have sounded like a rejection. She could stop this game if she wanted to. He’d let her.

But now that it’s started, now that she has him right here, in front of her, she needs to see it through. He’s saying something with his eyes and the tense lines of his body that she should have been able to decipher by now, and she has never been able to deny him. Even now, when this whole thing feels like she’s being handed a winning card that she doesn’t know what to do with, she will take everything that she can get.

She raises her chin. “No, he didn’t approach me like that.”

A slight furrow in his eyebrows, almost imperceptible, there and then gone just as quickly – it’s the first real reaction she has procured since the revel began.

“I see,” is all he says.

His hands drift lower against the walls until they are level with her waist. He’s not touching her, but she can almost imagine the feeling of them settling on her hips. “Did he put his hands on you to pull you closer?”

Jude tries to keep her voice steady. It doesn’t work as well as she wants. “No.”

He pauses. It’s difficult to see his expression, because he’s leaning down to speak in her ear now and all she can see is the mess of his black curls. She wonders if he’s trying to tell if she’s lying.

“All right,” he says. “How about here?” One of his hands finally leaves the wall, rising until the backs of his fingers are a moth’s wing away from the swell of her cheek. “Did he touch you here?”

“No.”

His fingers drift lower, wandering down her jawline to the sensitive skin of her neck. He’s still not touching her. His thumb hovers at the pulse point fluttering under her skin.

“And what about here?”

Jude closes her eyes. “No.”

She can hear Cardan breathing, long inhales and deeper exhales. It’s gotten louder the longer this game went on. This game, Jude realizes, that he is trying very hard to hide behind. This game that is perhaps instead showing his hand. Little by little. She just wants him to look at her. She wants to see the emotion in his face, devoid of any artifice.

His hand poises over her collarbones, and she can almost feel the heat of his skin on hers, bared by the open collar of her dress. She wants to arch into him, close the distance that he won’t. The phantom of his touches is a physical thing she feels in the pit of her stomach.

She waits for the question. But this time it doesn’t come right away, as if he is afraid to even ask it, as if he doesn’t want to hear the answer. Jude has to wonder at his hesitation now. “Did he –”

Jude cuts him off, because there is something she realizes she should have made clear from the beginning. Something that she can’t believe she has waited this long to say. It seems they both have a long way to go until they are rid of the games they have grown so used to. Until then, she will meet him on this chosen battleground.

“No, Cardan.” She steels herself beneath him, and reaches up to take his hand, suspended in the air, in her own. He stills. Their hands drop, intertwined, between them. “The answer will always be no. He didn’t touch me. Not like that. Cardan, he could barely stand to kiss me.”

He says nothing, and Jude barrels on.

“He thought I was under a geas,” she explains. “No one knew that I was resistant, not him, not Orlagh. It was my choice to pretend. I had to, or they’d kill me. Towards the end, Balekin told me to kiss him the way I kiss you.” She’s never told anyone this before. “I think… I think he wanted to know something. Something about you.”

Abruptly, Cardan steps back.

Jude gets her first good look at him since the whole revel started. And she is stunned to the raw, blazing emotion written plainly in his face. His mask is gone now. Any hint of a carefully crafted smile has been replaced by the hard set of his mouth. Any fickle amusement in his eyes has been burned out by something more powerful. She watches, pinned to the wall, as a muscle ticks in his jaw.

Jude is struck by the ominous feeling that they’ve reached a point of no return.

Something like self-preservation kicks in, making her straighten her spine under the force of his emotion. “I don’t regret it. I did what I had to.”

It’s only a beat later that she understands, on some level of animal instinct – saying that has just made it worse.

Cardan snaps.

It happens so fast – and Jude is already so lightheaded – that she finds herself falling against the couch in the far corner within the dizzying blink of an eye. She hits the cushions, the high velvet back of the couch engulfing her.

Cardan looms over her, planting a knee into the cushions between her legs. “You say that like it’s supposed to make me feel better,” he snarls, and, oh, the way his voice shoots through her blood. His hands are clenched into fists, the knuckles turning white.

Jude fights against the protests of her aching body and struggles to sit up. “I don’t understand.” Cardan doesn’t let up, dropping to his hands and knees above her. She sinks back into the ridiculously padded armrest at her back, glaring. His mouth finds its place beside the shell of her ear.

“Jude. You know me better than that.” One hand curls against the back of her neck, and she jumps at the feel of his touch, searing hot against her clammy skin. He angles her head closer as he speaks. “I am neither good, nor gentle.” His voice lowers into something rough around the edges – Jude is surrounded, overwhelmed by the sudden nearness of him. “And I do not forgive.”

Cardan’s mouth descends upon hers.

It’s not the kiss that she’s been waiting for ever since they got interrupted in their bed. It’s not the kiss she would have received from the one who had dressed her so gently, so carefully after they woke.

No. This is something else entirely.

Cardan kisses her like he would kiss an enemy: hard, calculated, every move bearing specific intent. He is demanding something from her with the insistent press of his lips, and she can barely keep up.

Pinned as she is under the warm weight of his body, Jude can only kiss back in kind, the worthy opponent she has trained herself to be. When he presses her back against the cushions, she licks at the seam of his mouth. When he hooks one of her legs around his hips, she tangles her fingers into his hair, desperate with the urge to retaliate.

He groans into her mouth.

But as her mind begins that slow, familiar slide, Jude is struck by the feeling that this kiss is a battle she’s not going to win. Because she’s finally starting to understand a little of what he’s telling her.

It’s in the lingering pecks on the corner of her mouth in between searing kisses. It’s in the way he cradles her face even as he’s pulling her roughly closer. It’s in the way he’s holding on to her, hands fisted in the shimmering fabric of her skirts, even though she’s already wrapped tightly around him.

She thought, all this time, that he was angry with her. Furious. Outraged.

She’s not so sure anymore.

They break apart with the same abruptness with which they came together. She knows it now, this kiss has changed something, chipped away at the final vestiges of whatever mask he was hiding behind.

“Jude.” Her name is a barely veiled plea. “I need you to indulge me something.” That’s when she hears it, that first crack of something fragile breaking in his voice. She feels a tender thing, right there behind her ribcage, unfurl at the sound of it.

“Of course,” she says, immediately, without thinking. “Anything.”

A sigh leaves Cardan’s body. She could have sworn it looked like relief.

But then Jude is swearing for a different reason, because Cardan is now suddenly moving down her body. The breath gets caught in her throat.

“What are you doing?”

“Let me take it away,” he says, voice muffled by her collarbones. “Let me burn away the memory of him. Of the Undersea.”

It takes longer than it should for her mind, honeyed by his kisses, to catch up. She rears back a little, but he’s already leaving a trail of wet marks over the exposed tops of her breasts. “Cardan. The revel. We don’t have time for this.”

His head bows under some strong emotion. The feathers on her dress stand out stark against his dark head. “How dare they,” he whispers. “How dare they use you–” He sends a growl of frustration into the skin of her neck, resuming his path downwards with fevered determination. “I couldn’t do anything then.” He punctuates his sentence with a bruising kiss on the soft spot right underneath her ear, and she squirms. He’s touching all the places he’d asked her about during their game. “Let me do this now.” Another kiss, his lips leaving a wet mark above the crest of feathers between her breasts. She arches into him without forethought. “Indulge me this. I beg of you.”

And this is what gives Jude pause. Because Cardan never begs.

When he reaches down to hook her right leg over his shoulder – when he presses another hot, open-mouthed kiss on the sensitive, tender skin of her ankle –

Jude groans, throwing her head back. It’s an acquiescence and a surrender all at once.

Cardan makes quick work of the silk underwear beneath her dress. It’s gone before she can even protest, lost to the grassy carpet beneath them, and swiftly forgotten. Her husband begins a new path with his mouth, trailing lips and tongue now up the length of her leg. First past her ankle, then up to her bare calf, littering his way with featherlight kisses.

When he gets to her knee, Jude is a mess of anticipation and rumpled blue skirts beneath him. All aches and chills are forgotten. Eyes alight with dark mischief, he traces the tip of his tongue against the fold of her knee, with the barest hint of suggestion, taking his sweet time.

“Cardan,” she says through gritted teeth. “No more games. Just hurry up.”

She is rewarded when he abruptly turns his head and sucks a searing bruise into the inside of her thigh. She jolts, the heel of her foot digging into his shoulder, and he has the nerve to chuckle.

She stares at the swollen curve of his lips, the traces of peacock blue dust on his cheekbones, the way he’s kneeling before her now as if in reverence, and wonders if he was created for her own destruction.

It certainly feels that way when he finally lowers his mouth and seals his lips over her.

Jude falls back against the cushions with a soft moan, muffled against her palm.

Out of all the things they have done, it is somehow this that brings out some semblance of shyness in her. As if she can’t believe how much she enjoys it – but, of course she enjoys it, because Cardan’s mouth has never been anything but wicked, his fingers anything but clever. No, it’s that she can’t quite believe how much he enjoys doing it to her.

And damn him if he doesn’t get her every fucking time.

He presses his lips to the wetness at her entrance, and Jude swallows the next gasp that threatens to leave her lips.

“None of that.” She feels his breath, hot against her slick flesh, when he speaks. She almost whines at the interruption. “Let me hear you properly.”

“Cardan, the revel.” Her words are more breath than actual words. “They’ll hear.”

As if in response, Cardan licks. One long, luscious stroke up the length of her. Opening her up. Making her feel him, right where she wants him. When he reaches her clit, the tip of his tongue flicks over it, the pressure intense and then gone again just as fast. Her whole body jerks, as if the pleasure is a force like an electric shock up her spine.

“Let them hear.” A slow grin spreads his lips, shinier now than they were moments before. “Don’t you want them to?”

The thought that anyone can come in at any moment and see the Queen with her skirts pushed up to her hips, and the King kneeling before her with her legs thrown over his shoulders – well. It sounds like the exact kind of danger that Jude thrives on.

“I –” But she doesn’t get to finish her sentence. Cardan pounces on the hesitation in her voice and sucks her clit into his mouth. Jude’s spine leaves the cushions, her hands fisting in his hair for anything to hold on to. Another moan would have left her mouth as well, but she’s determined not to give him the satisfaction.

She’s not sure how long she will last.

“One last game,” he says, eyes burning. “I’ll touch you in all the places my brother didn’t –” His thumb continues his work while he speaks, rubbing slow, steady circles that are both too much and not enough “– and in return, you’ll let me know how good you feel. You’ll let everyone outside this room know if that’s what it takes.”

This, she learned early on, is something that Cardan has always known more about than her. And the more time that he has spent learning her body has only proven to her how little she stands a chance against him on this particular battlefield. It is one of the few things that she can never begrudge him for being better than her at.

Even now, when he’s wielding it against her, she can’t begrudge him a thing. How can she, when he returns his mouth to her clit and sweeps his tongue over her so perfectly – fast, even strokes across the entirety of it, exactly the way she likes it, as if he means to evaporate the ghost of Balekin’s kiss with every flick. How can she, when he swirls a fingertip at her entrance, nudging it inside just enough so that she can feel the barest of stretches, just enough so that her hips immediately roll trying to get more.

Time melts away after that. Jude’s head is thrown back against the couch, and stars fill her vision, the myriad of constellations painted on the ceiling blurring together into specks of glitter and gold, disjointed and effervescent like the pleasure coursing through her body.

She can barely remember the cold depths of the Undersea. There is only his touch, skin warmed against skin, and his mouth, his lips, his tongue, hotter than anything she’s ever felt before.

“You like this a little, don’t you? Knowing that the entire kingdom is out there waiting for us.” And as if on cue, the music swells as the revelers begin another dance, their cheers audible through the thin mossy walls of the room. “They’re right outside, Jude. Do you think they’ll hear it when you come?”

Her answer is a whimper. She passed the point of words a long many moments ago. The sounds are escaping her mouth with more abandon. He’s done his best to wear her down, and it’s working far too well.

She can feel something immense building tight in her belly. She’s a tiny bit afraid of what it took to get her here. She’s a tiny bit afraid of how little more she needs before it all comes crashing down.

“Do you want to know what I was thinking about when I saw you walk into the room tonight, wearing the dress I handpicked for you?” The sound she makes is less a query and more of a plea for him to continue, whether it’s speaking or ruining her with his mouth, she’s not entirely sure anymore. “I thought to myself that the Undersea will live in nothing but fear, for all the time that you draw breath. And then I thought about how their fear will never be good enough for you.”

He times the next swirl of his tongue – the hardest one thus far – with a perfectly placed flick of his finger, hooking behind her pubic bone and pressing up against that spot that makes her feel like bursting. And it’s over.

Jude comes with something that’s very nearly a scream, if only she weren’t digging her teeth into the back of her hand. Her toes curling. Her body writhing. It builds and it builds, like an earthquake ready to rend her world apart.

She returns to herself only to find that she’s thrown her arms up over her eyes: it’s blessedly dark and uncomplicated behind her eyelids. She finds that she’s a little embarrassed by how strongly he’s made her come. It’s slow work lowering her arms and peeling her eyes open, and when she finally sees him, she’s struck to the bone by the intensity of his gaze.

Even though she’s the one that’s just come all over his mouth and hands, he’s the one that looks like he’s received something he doesn’t deserve.

Cardan leans over her once more to smooth down the fall of her skirts, to fix the positioning of the feathers on her chest. Without thinking, her arms come up to wrap around his shoulders and to bring him closer but then – he’s pulling away.

“I knew the dress would suit you,” he says, eyes burning with something unsated, lips swollen and shining with the evidence of what he’s done to her. “You were never one to hide your true colors.”

And then he stands and walks away.

Again.

___________________

Chapter Visuals:

Moodboard.

Inspiration for Cardan.

(The artist is @nanfe on Tumblr, Twitter, and Instagram.)

Inspiration for Jude’s peacock dress.

(Context: I want to be Tessa Virtue when I grow up, but it’s unfortunately not going to work out because one, who am I kidding, and two, I pulled a muscle just watching this, so suffice to say an Olympic career is definitely not in the cards for me. Still, this video takes my breath away, and bonus, the song arguably fits Jude really well, too.)

_______________

[End Notes]

I wrote this chapter intending it to mirror that scene in Chapter 15 of The Wicked King (you know which one I’m talking about). I also tried to play with the canon idea of Jude being an “unreliable” narrator when it comes to understanding Cardan. As with all things, she doesn't make it easy.

Would love to know what you think! ❤️

P.S. Why, yes, that is a Dark Shadows (2012) reference.

#jude x cardan #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #tfota fanfic #jurdan #jurdan fic #jurdan fanfic #The Folk of the Air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #tcp #tcp fic #twk #tqon #fic: homeland #zita writes

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moony-artnstuff · 4 years

Text

Matchup request, @thatonefangirl111

Note: Hi! I wrote this one for @thatonefangirl111, I’m not sure how to feel about this one but I really hope you like it! I’ve never written for Harry Potter before but I’ve tried my best.

The Hobbit

I ship you with... Fili!

You were a member of the company where you quickly became friends with Fili and Kili

The three of you would pull pranks on the rest of the company, and you especially liked to annoy Thorin, but you are always the one that makes sure you guys don’t go to far or do anything too dangerous.

Fili loves your loyalty. It’s a trait he values a lot in a partner, but he’s also glad you’re able to let loose and joke around with him.

The two of you become very close during the quest, but it takes a while for him to realize just how much he likes you.

One night when the company is setting up the camp, Thorin was being his usual grumpy self and said something that annoyed you, so you looked him dead in the eye and gave him a snarky remark that made Fili crack up and that is when he realised...

He was in love with you.

In the following days he tried to show you he wanted to court you in the traditional dwarven way. He would share his food, give you his furs when it got cold at night and he always made sure you had the most comfortable place to sleep, but because you weren’t a dwarf you thought he was just being friendly

One time he tried to flirt with you, but the moment he looked into your beautiful brown eyes all his confidence disappeared and left him feeling all shy and flustered.

It was adorable, and Kili teased him about it for the rest of the day.

One night when the two of you are on watch and talking about all kinds of science stuff (Fili adores the way you ramble) he asks you if he can braid your hair.

He’s a bit nervous to braid your hair, but also very excited. You two are the only blondes in the company, but Fili finds the softer shade of your hair far more beautiful than his own, and he adores your curls.

When he’s finished he taps your shoulder and shows you a beautifully carved, silver bead. He tells you the meaning behind braiding one’s hair and after nervously confessing his feelings for you, he asks if he can court you.

You, of course, say yes.

The two of you love to make and listen to music together.

There has been more than one occasion where he jokingly put on your glasses so you would have to chase him to get them back, only for him to run face first into a wall because he can’t see shit when he wears your glasses.

When Erebor is rebuild he encourages you to participate in some musicals and plays, knowing how much you love them. And you can bet he’s always gonna be there when you perform.

To Fili you are worth more than all the gold in Erebor, and he loves you with all off his heart.

Lord of the rings

I ship you with... Eowyn!

The two of you met when you, Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn and Gandalf arrived in Edoras to save King Theoden.

After her Uncle was back to normal and had kicked Grima out, she sought you out to ask if you wanted to spar with her some time, noticing how good you are with a sword.

You became friends after that. You bonded over your love for swordfighting, and you shared your interest for music, while she told you about her love for horses.

When you told her you liked reading she brought you to this gigantic library where you spend the whole afternoon talking and reading.

Eowyn is impressed by how good you are at math and how easy you make it all seem.

One evening you find her sitting outside, softly crying. When she notices you’re watching she tries to wipe her tears away, saying that she is alright but you insist she tells you what is wrong. She tells you that she still mourns the death of her cousin, and that she’s worried about her brother. You know how she feels, as you are still grieving Boromir’s death and you’re worried about whether or not Frodo and Sam are alright. The two of you spend the rest of the evening trying to comfort each other, talking about your feelings. You try to cheer her up with your jokes, and for the first time in a long time she smiled, and it made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

After that you and Eowyn became even closer. She always asks you about what it’s like to be a cheerleader and she’s amazed by how much work you put into training, and she loves to talk with you about your favorite plays.

When the battle of the Pellenor fields comes you help her disguise herself as one of the men of Rohan and sneak out Merry to the battlefield. Both of you know that you are capable warriors, but you still promise to keep an eye out for each other.

It was a long battle. At first you were able to stay relatively close to each other, but when the oliphaunts came you lost sight of her.

After everything was over and Aragorn told you what had happened to Eowyn, you rushed to the medical wing to go and see her. When she saw you standing in the doorway she smiled and reached out a hand to you, and you confessed your feelings for her right then and there.

Once Eowyn was healed and Aragorn crowned king, the two of you were almost always together. Even thought Eowyn was now working as a healer, she still likes to spar with you. You two often go on dates, like horse-riding, going to watch a musical, or doing each others hair. Eowyn has some amazing tips to handle your curls.

When you started dating Eowyn she introduced you to her brother Eomer and the two of you hit it off pretty quickly, especially after he saw how smart and kind you are and how happy you make his little sister. Most of your interactions with Eomer incluce throwing snarky remarks at each other whenever you are in a 5 ft radius of each other, but it’s never ill intended and you always laugh about it.

You and Eowyn love each other very much and you are both super adorable and a power couple.

Harry Potter

I ship you with... Fred Weasley!

You were in the same year as Fred, and you heard a lot about his and his twin’s famous pranks, but it wasn’t until your fourth year, when Ginny was taken to the chamber of secrets, that you started talking to him. You find him alone,wandering in the halls and because he looked a bit down (which was a rare sight) you started a conversation with him. You had heard about what had happened to his sister so you try to comfort him as best as you could.

After that you would often sit with him and George during breakfast and lunch, and you’d wave at each other when passing in the halls.

When you start your fifth year you share a train compartment with Fred and George, excitedly talking about going back for another year at hogwarts.

You often join him and his brother in their pranks, adding your own fun ideas while simultaniously trying to make sure no one gets hurt.

You also help him with his homework, because he often forgets about it, and although he doesn’t say it, he’s impressed by how intelligent you are.

You become very close friends with Fred and George during this year, and Fred loves your snarky remarks, it always cracks him up and he isn’t afraid to throw one back.

Fred doesn’t care what house you are in, but if you aren’t a Gryffindor there will be some playful competition between you two.

During your sixth year he started to flirt with you. At first you were a bit flustered, but you were quick to come up with a flirty response, which earned a grin from Fred and a dramatic groan from George.

‘‘For Merlin’s sake, get a room you two!’‘

Fred asks you out to the Yule Ball, and when he sees you walking into the great hall he can’t help but stare. Your beautiful dress complimented your fair skin, and your curly hair in a cute updo made your big brown eyes stand. He thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

You dance almost the whole night, but right before you want to return to your common room Fred takes you aside for a moment and asks if you want to be his girlfriend, kissing you when you say yes.

He loves that you’re a cheerleader, and he’d be over the moon if you were to cheer him on during a quidditch match. He always shows off when you’re watching him, giving you a wink before continuing the game.

You teach him how to play baseball and he adores it, especially when he gets to hold the bat, saying how it resembles being a beater in quidditch.

During you’re seventh year he pulls less pranks because of Umbridge’s rules and torture, but also because he want to keep you out of trouble.

He always keeps an eye out for you, comforting you after detention with Umbridge and trying to make you laugh when you feel stressed.

Seeing you smile, especially when it’s his doing, is his favorite thing ever.

You try all kinds of things to get around Umbridge’s stupid rule that says boys and girls can’t get too close to each other. Often you would sneak to each other’s (common) rooms to cuddle and talk, returning just before the sun would start to rise.

When Fred and George decide to leave Hogwarts you are the only one he tells, and after they chased Umbridge out of the castle Fred throws some last firework into the air that explodes in tiny little hearts all around you.

He loves you so much, and you always get free stuff at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

#lord of the rings #the hobbit #harry potter #fred weasley #fili #eowyn #fred x reader #fili x reader #eowyn x reader #matchup

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fe-husband-heaven · 4 years

Text

Need - Grima/Reader

Summary: Grima entertains the idea of creating a spawn.

18+

(Not a full on lemon but its Grima so-)

_________________________________________

He wanted one.

One of those infantile creatures that run amok tearing at his robes, begging for him to play the games they desire.

Quite manipulative beings, they produce tears as their final resort when they're met with a resounding "No.", and were he not the Fell Dragon, he might have relented to such a pathetic display.

But he is the Fell Dragon, so the little ones were grabbed by the scruff of their necks and placed aside, frowning when their ploys did not work.

He didn't know why they flocked to him, the children of the order, but he found that he did not hate them. They were the more tolerable of the beings who he encountered there, they were in their least nefarious forms. Creatures that had yet to morph into the selfish beings he was so used to dealing with.

Speaking of the tolerable, his own Summoner was among those he didn't immediately want to turn to ash.

Grima watched as they spun the young manakete who went by "Fae" in the air, the squeals of excitement the child gave off coursed through the halls, and to Grima's sensitive hearing, quickly became a source of annoyance.

Sensing the dragon's growing impatience, you knelt to set Fae down, and gave her a light guiding push to run along. She spotted Kana running by clutching his dragonstone and scampered off, likely to cajole him into a game of catch.

Grima's frown slowly ironed out as he focused in on your face, you were smiling fondly as the two kids disappeared down the hall excitedly, he stared at your lips longer than necessary.

You were so infuriating.

He recalls when he first met you, pulled from his world in a wisp of white smoke, he smile maniacally of having another world to destroy. You were the first creature he happened upon, you merely stared at him, the little princeling of the realm stood warily watching, a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it if necessary.

Grima laughed at the sight of him before turning to you.

And he growled, he could sense no fear, no terror from you, you're an insect, you should be begging him not to crush you beneath his boot.

Perhaps you needed incentive, he could admit that the pathetic human he'd stripped this vessel from wasn't anywhere near his level of intimidating. So his other form appeared behind him, and to his confusion, your eyes shown with intrigue rather than trepidation.

Letting out a mighty roar, his other form snapped it's head towards you, it's eyes were bigger than you, and the red glow that radiated off of them was eerie. Grima made an enemy of you when you reached your hand out and scratched under his other forms jaw.

If he could, he'd crush the skull of his old self, how dare he threaten you...

When he looks back on it now, he wasted time. Avoiding you, cursing your presence, and lumping you in the same group as those other worms; Grima wants to destroy a town or two when he thinks about how much time he hadn't spent having you at his side.

He doesn't remember when your presence began to become intoxicating. Maybe it was your complete disregard for his power when you would find him and settle for a nap in his presence, or maybe it was a subtle build up with all of your fretting and constant insistence that he eat and sleep properly.

At that time, he had taken it as you having the audacity to look down at him, now it was just his human showing affection. Regardless, it wasn't too long after coming to terms that he wanted you that he moved into your quarters for good.

He found that sleep came much easier in your bed.

Sleeping beside the one he decided belonged to him was something he relished but the effects of sleep quickly became Grima's greatest adversary.

Dreams, accursed things, they plagued him. And when you were added to the mix, the nature of those dreams rapidly changed into primal desires.

He wanted you.

Grima wanted to possess your body, and he wanted to mark it as his. He wanted to leave evidence of his presence on your neck, yearning to slam himself inside of you and grin with glee as you gave in to his touch. Listening to the lewd squelch of you clenching around him, and committing to memory the sound of adorable pleas begging him to slow down or you wouldn't last long.

He wanted to bruise your lips with his own before he filled your mouth, burning into his mind the image of you struggling to take him. He wanted to spill his seed past your warm tongue and watch as driblets of cum escaped past your lips and ran down your chin, then he wanted to punish you for it.

But he also wanted a baby.

"I could give you one."

Your smile ebbed away, and you blinked at his statement. Slowly rising from where you knelt, you wiped your hands on your coat before turning to him.

"Give me what?"

"A child."

Your brows rose in surprise before you searched his face, more curious than shocked as to where that came from.

"A kid? What brought this on?"

He didn't answer you, or at least, not your question. Instead, he opted to offer one of his own.

"Would you like one?"

You noted that he dismissed your curiosity, which you knew meant that he was hiding something from you.

So you stared at him, normally, that would get him to growl and begrudgingly tell you what was eating at him, but this time, he frowned and his eyes were radiating betrayal.

"You don't want one."

It was a statement, he thought you didn't want a child with him...He looked dejected, well, as much as Grima would allow you to see. You quickly went to quelling that worry however, he gets prickly when he thinks you don't love him as much as he loves you.

"That's not it."

You sigh and step closer to him, gently, you snaked your arms around his neck in a hug before letting a hand rise to his ruffled hair, carding through white strands carefully so as to not catch on a knot.

"It's not a no. It's a not yet."

You felt Grima relax in your embrace a little before he lowered his head to bury his face in your neck. He had a habit of doing that, you didn't suspect anything other than wanting to be close at first, but the deep inhale he always took had you curious.

He'd never told you, but he likes your scent. Grima found it calming but he preferred it most when it mixed with his own. Whenever he found his scent wasn't on you, he made sure to remedy that with a couple marks on your neck.

He took his routine inhale and sighed softly, satisfied that you smelled enough like him.

"I don't want to bring a kid in while we're still dealing with all this garbage."

By "this garbage", you meant the unending problems of the Order of Heroes. It was always one villain to the next, without rest. You felt him shift a little and turn his head to rest his forehead on your shoulder.

"I could get rid of them for you. Everyone. All you have to do is ask it of me."

He'd made offers like this plenty of times before, offering to free you of your problems by decimating everything in existence. If there were no order of heroes, then you would have nothing to have to protect. If he destroyed your enemies, then no one would take away your time with him.

His power is the one equalizer. He'd be free to take you with him and keep you at his side forever. He'd destroy the realms for you.

But you never took those propositions up, humming, you patted his head comfortingly, knowing he wasn't going to like your answer.

"Hmm,that wouldn't be very nice."

He huffed, and for a brief moment, contemplated simply stealing you away. He'd leave all these other insects behind and run off with you, regardless of what you said. He wouldn't have to wait and he could rule his realm with you.

But the prospect was cast aside quickly. You would come to hate him, loathe him for stifling your freedom, and that was something Grima would not allow to him.

You weren't allowed to hate him. Grima nearly growled at the way his heart stung at the idea, this body was sensitive to emotions, and it annoyed him greatly.

You pulled away from the hug just enough to look at him, he was frowning, and you tried not to laugh. He looked like he was pouting. You reached up and held his face in your hand, smiling reassuringly.

"But I promise, once our work is done, we can run away and have as many kids as we want. Until then, we have to work hard, okay?"

Grima didn't answer, choosing instead to meld your lips together in a kiss. He doesn't know why but he felt elated at your use of "we", it meant you wanted a little one as well. Not to mention you planned on doing your part to ensure he could have you to himself in the future, his heart pounded disgustingly at a mutual relationship where he wasn't being used.

Grima thought back to your question earlier, asking him his reasons for wanting a spawn. He's going to keep those motives to himself for eternity. No matter what dimension, he'd never admit to wanting to tie you to him through a child.

A deep seeded distrust in humans still hasn't faded, and every once in a while, it would rear its ugly head and fill him with the idea that you might change your mind one day. A baby would keep you bonded to him forever, you would have less incentive to leave him.

Or..that's how this entire affair had started, but now, he just wanted one to call his and yours. Proof of your bond and the next step in your relationship, standing side by side as equals.

"Ewww!!"

You pulled away abruptly and Grima internally snarled. Turning to look to your right, you found Kana and Fae. Kana making a face and Fae giggling behind her hands.

Kana ran up to you and hugged at your waist, "Bleh, grown ups do that too much. Come play with us instead!"

You laughed, clearly he must have been fed up with his own parents lovey dovey-ness. Grima made a face, still annoyed, and he glared down when he felt something attach itself to his leg.

Fae smiled up at him,

"Yeah! We wanna play hide and seek! But we wanna play with you too! Preeeeeetty please?"

Grima felt his face scrunch up, Fae's smile was too bright. He turned to look at you, and found you smiling at him encouragingly as you pet Kana's hair, who was waiting with anticipation on his answer.

Turning to look back down at Fae, he sighed and picked her up gently.

"Fine."

Fae squealed a "Yay" in his ear and pointed for him to head further down the hall, the best place to play. You laughed at his begrudging nature but didn't fail to notice the way the tips of his mouth tilted up just a fraction into a smile.

"Looks like you'll just have to settle for this for a little longer."

Grima's lips curled into a smirk, he'd show you. Show you just how great a father the Fell Dragon could be, and how he'd surpass all of these worthless mortals when it came to parenthood.

It wouldn't be for a couple of years before Grima was finally given the privilege of holding his child in his arms, who with the strength of a dragon (Baby nearly turned him bald when it grabbed a hold of his hair), warmed his heart in the same manner you had.

#fire emblem heroes #feh #fe heroes #Grima #lemon #the fell daddy #nya

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theartofbeinganeldar · 4 years

Text

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Prologue

Summary: You're a fantasy-loving, LARPing human from this world, who's the black sheep of society because of your obsession for the unreal and alienation of what's real. When you're in the middle of a LARP battle with some pretty phony boars, you fall out of a tree and bust your head. You wake up, alone, and are suddenly attacked by some very pissed-off, very real wargs. Without any idea of how you got there, you got dropped into Middle-Earth, with only bits and pieces of memories of Tolkien's masterpiece, though your recollection of everything else is perfectly clear. And of all places in Middle-Earth, you got dropped into Mirkwood, with some suspicious, potentially hostile, Woodland Elves...

Chapter No.: Prologue

Key: [Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: So, this is my first fanfiction on tumblr, and I'd thought I'd try it since I have very little time for DeviantArt's chaos. It's much different from my Legolas x Reader on there. I added a small loving family to make the emotions relatable-- even if you don't have siblings, or have more than what I added, it's just fanfiction! Also, I tried to make my pronouns for said reader gender-nuetral so that everybody can enjoy it! The reason your character is so wild is for the sake of not fitting in to this world, yet you're used to it, so that later points in the plot can become more... Well, you'll see. And yes, I made Elves pansexual because I don't think they'd care much about gender or age at that point. LARPing plays a big role in the prologue, because your character is really into it for personal reasons. If this isn't your cup of tea, don't drink it. I hope you like it! Feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused, Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

You'd never been considered normal by anyone. You enjoyed LARP instead of reality. Your "job" was just staying at home and captioning videos all day every day you weren't LARPing instead of interacting with society at a normal job. Your home? A tiny studio apartment that only cost $450 a month without bills, and you did without cell phone, car, and electric for the sake of being your weird self. You hadn't been to college yet, despite the fact that everyone told you to go once your gap year was over, and it almost was. What would you even study? Acting was all that got you close to who you were, so, ok, guess that's fine, but nobody else thought of that as a career. Maybe you could write fiction-- you were good at that much.

You weren't always like this. There was a time when you were just a normal kid, living a normal life. But somewhere around ten, you started to change, and by sixteen you'd become who you were today. If the Old You could see the New You, you weren't sure if they'd think you were weird too, or if they'd stare up at you in awe.

Hopefully it was the latter, which made you feel good.

I mean, come on, were you born in the wrong timeframe or what?! That's what you thought, anyway. There's no way that this world was for you. The fact that nearly all people were heartless jackasses that enjoyed destroying the planet, the fact that everybody had to be the same or were considered freaks, prejudice and injustice were key factors of life and the rich got handed everything on a silver platter while the poor had to scavenge... Just, everything of this reality made you hate it. If only you'd been born five hundred years earlier, or, y'know, in Game of Thrones or Lord of the Rings...

You'd really liked to have been born in Middle-Earth. You had so many books about it, you knew practically everything there was to know, even the confusing shit about Faramir being in the Fall of Gondolin. You'd practically memorized Elvish, and dwarvish, and you knew the whole six movies by heart, every line. And of course, like most Lord of the Rings fans, you had a massive crush on a certain Elvish princeling who was too pretty for his own good. In fact, Legolas was who inspired you to learn archery; maybe one day you'd be as good as he was.

Despite your wishes, you were stuck in reality, however much you hated it

. Even amongst your LARP groups, you were considered outlandish.

Everybody else had normal lives outside of their games, whereas you pretended this was your life. You didn't have any job aside from the small caption jobs you did when you weren't LARPing, no social life, nothing. The only people you had was your mother, brother, sister, and your only friend, [F/N]. They accepted you and your strange fantasies, even if they thought you'd one day regret acting in a way when you could've been beginning a normal life and being productive.

So excuse you if you decided to invite them to a LARP event and let them borrow some of your costumes. It wasn't the end of the world. But your LARP group apparently didn't get that memo.

"You invited your mom?!" A royal asshole sneered, yet you took satisfaction in the fact that his knight costume looked like it was made of cardboard painted silver, whereas your sci-fi Elf getup was actual leather and cloth. His name was Jacob Brent; you'd never really liked him. He'd always had it out for you because your costumes were so much more fabulous than his. Plus you may or may not have actually known swordplay and archery and dagger throwing and martial arts... Kinda. You were still in the process of learning kickboxing.

You cocked a sky blue-- yes, sky blue-- eyebrow to your equally bright blue hairline, spiked up in a short faux hawk. This was your first sci-fi Elf, and you'd wanted to go all out. A cocky grin split its way across your face. "Yeah, so? It doesn't effect you on any level, Tin Can."

He sniggered with his cronies. "I can't believe you don't have anyone else to come with you." He mimicked rubbing his eyes like he was four. "'Oh Mommy, I need somebody to come with me!'" His whole group burst into laughter.

You surprised them by joining in, actually appluading. "Oh, wow! Wonderful, just wonderful! Hey, should I tell Mindy that I seen you feeling up Roxie behind your fort last week?" He paled, and almost everybody in his group of crappy cosplay got 'o' faces. You put your hands on your hips. "Guess what, asshole, just 'cause I'm close with my family and you're not with yours doesn't make it a crime to hang out with them. It's my life, my decision, and I enjoy spending time with them." You hefted up a disappointingly fake spear, turning to walk away. "Oh, and by the way, your paint's chippin' off."

Reason for Hating Reality Number 6, 965: Immaturity levels are almost incomprehensibly high.

Your mom glared daggers at Jacob's Immaturity Harem. She'd always been a tough gal, always sticking up for you when you got bullied when you were younger, but now that you were an adult, she had to let you kick ass yourself; you were pretty good at it. "I don't like him." She stated casually, and you chuckled.

"'Course you don't. He looks like a cheesy robot costume you'd get from Wal-Mart with a too-big crotch protector that's not impressing anyone but himself, and he has the face of a roasting pig. Too tanned, too grubby, and always with something in his mouth."

She smiled slightly. "Has he always been giving you trouble?"

You swung your gear pack off of your shoulder, letting it yank itself down to earth. "Since the day he tried kissing my ass 'cause he didn't know me." [F/N] must've overheard that last sentence, because he burst into laughter when he approached with your brother, [B/N], and your sister, [S/N]. "You talking about Jacob?"

"Sure as hell."

You'd first met [F/N] a year ago, when you'd joined extra-curricular activites for your last year of high school. He thought your personality was incredibly brave, especially in this modern world, but even still... He was just a friend, not a best friend. You'd never had that luxury outside of your tiny family. You just didn't trust him after the life you'd had.

Unfortunately, it seems they didn't like the getups. "Do I have to wear this?" [B/N] asked dramatically, slumping over. He didn't look right in the pauldrons and leather breastplate.

"It's too heavy!" [S/N] complained.

You sighed theatrically. "My piteous children, deal with thy armor, for it must be worn despite thou complaints."

[B/N] pressed his palms together and bowed down. "Screweth thou, false companion."

You mimicked his bow. "Off to hell with thee."

"Hey! You guys! It's starting!" [F/N] cried, and ran off, his pack of weapons and magic bags trembling dangerously on his back. The rest of you followed more slowly, as you explained to your family how exactly LARPing worked. Battles weren't actually bloody, magic was just colored powder, you get points for a hit, and so on and so forth. [B/N] and [S/N] got it immediately, but your poor mom, who hadn't even ever played Skyrim, had no idea how the point system and leveling up worked. You had to explain it six times over before you'd reached the massive gathering of LARPing cosplayers. [F/N] returned to you as you reached it, carrying a map. "We were in Larsgyushter Prairie last, right?"

"Duh," You shrugged, at the same time [S/N] asked with a grimace, "Luckyestire Prairie?"

[F/N] inclined his head. "Well, I made some arrangements because your family joined us. We made for Glewnburg, where we picked up their characters, and then headed into the Elder Woods."

You took the map. "Sounds fair enough."

[S/N] frowned. "What exactly were you guys doing last time?"

[F/N] blushed; he must've liked her, which made you feel proud and like pummeling him all at once. "A quest to defeat a horde of wildebors in order to get a good amount of gold."

"How much?"

"Four hundred."

Your mom seemed confused. "Is that a lot?"

"For the land of Sisgremor," You retorted, "Not much. But it's enough for us. We hunt for food, and sleep in the woods. It's summertime, so we don't have much need for shelter unless it storms, and we know where to find caves. The coin is for some new bits of armor, and some weapon upgrades and a couple of magic books for [F/N]."

"Oh," Your mom said, and you took the lead, getting into your Elven character with a huge grin on your face.

"Come, my children! We must meet the bors by midday!" You ran off, but you didn't miss the looks over half of the LARP community gave you.

~le time skip~

The one thing you didn't like about LARPing was the enemies. They weren't believable and were crappily dressed, at least in your community. They were crappy actors and their dying acts were unrealistic. Unless they were orcs that had good makeup skills and good cosplay, they weren't worth fighting, but you had an imagination to kick them up a notch.

As always, the wildebors were just some guys in black outfits decorated with needles, and wearing pig masks with an underbite bearing tusks. Your imagination knocked them to eight-feet long beasts with bloodstained tusks, wild red eyes, and porcupine-like needles that shot out of their near-impenetrable hides if provoked.

You'd only fought these beasts once. They had three separate healthbars, each a different strength: eight hundred, four hundred, and one hundred. Your spear-- the only weapon you could afford after your bow snapped (Poor prop craftsmanship.), had a damage rate of ten health per hit, thirty if you could make a three-combo move (The highest combo move allowed.). [F/N]'s magic bombs, bolts of energy, and other magic stuff only varied from ten to fifty health damage per hit, except for his Fyrering, which was a once-a-day power that was ninety health damage, plus a three minute window of burning which took ten damage every thirty seconds.

The boars were also viscious; one hit from them took around fifty health, and at level nine, you and [F/N]'s health bars were only at two hundred and fifty, plus your armor rating of fifty and his of twenty. Your family, however, were only at level one, with a one hundred strength health bar each and armor ratings varying between ten and fifteen.

In short: that meant a hell of a lot of hits, very little openings, and there were always numbers to consider. There were six of them, and five of you. If you had your bow, this would be easy. You'd climb a tree, avoid their needles, and fire your twenty-five damage arrows relentlessly (With the thirty plus bonus from your actual bow.) while [F/N] pelted them with magic. You could take down two, maybe three that way before retreating, waiting for your strength to regenerate and your undamaged arrows to "respawn" before coming back for more battling (The arrows don't actually exist, for safety reasons. You had to wait for ten minutes before an approximated number of arrows, determined previously by the quest-giver, "reappeared" in your "inventory.").

But you had to think of a new plan. A brand new plan. You had three level one novices, two level nine intermediates, and six angry-as-hell wildebors that were level twenty. This was an impossible quest. You should never have accepted it knowing your family was coming.

You were hiding behind a huge oak, and glanced around it; for a split moment, you saw the crappy actors, but your mind quickly fixed that. Above and to your immediate right, [F/N] hid behind a mound of boulders up on a hill, and you'd positioned your family similarly. You just couldn't see them. [F/N]'s hand waving caught your attention. Frantically, he pointed above you. You whipped your head up, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. You gave him a look like WTF dude, and he rolled his eyes. He picked up a rock as an example and pointed back up into the branches, but still, you didn't see anything. He gestured again, almost forcefully, and this time, you seen it: brightnuts, a specialized kind of walnut bred specifically to explode into a bright white light on impact, with dangerous shrapnel and poisonous fumes that had one hundred and fifty health damage.

Of course, in reality, they were just blue and white beanbags hanging in nets rigged all over the branches, but you pretended they weren't.

But still, perfect.

You'd start calling out orders as soon as you started throwing them. [F/N] knew how to improvise to a plan already, but your family didn't. You propped your spear up on the tree, and started climbing, wincing when the bark scraped your palms; you were wearing what'd used to be white bridal gloves, but you'd tinkered with them to match your costume, sewing sky blue patterns into the gloves.

You personally didn't make a sound, but a couple of leaf-covered branches fell; luckily, wildebors were mostly deaf and blind, so you should make it to the top of the tree without any consequences.

You flashed [F/N] a triumphant smile when you reached the topmost branches, snatching a bag of brightnuts and holding them high above your head. He shot you a double thumbs-up, then made a wheel-like gesture to get you to move on. You stuck your tongue out at him, then readjusted yourself on the branch to get a good aim.

A few seconds of struggling against the knot, and you'd gotten the net open. With barely a minute of hesitation, you drew your arm back, and fired. Your aim was almost perfect. You hit one of the wildebors in the side, and you seen the actor as he started the most over-acted reaction you'd seen yet: a violent jump, then what sounded like a deranged "Guuuugh!" You rolled your eyes. So dramatic.

Either way, [F/N] whooped behind you. "Hit! A hit!"

Before you could give any orders whatsoever, [B/N] charged down the hill with his realistic-looking wooden battleaxe bellowing a war cry. You slumped over. "Aw, shit."

In the blink of an eye, [B/N] was officially dead but still pummeling the poor actors, your mom didn't know what to do, [F/N] didn't realize what was happening from behind his rock, and [S/N] was dodging air like a boss. You waited on the branch until the coach of the actors stood, took off his mask, and blew his whistle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! You with the axe! You died already! Come on everybody, regroup, come on..." Your mom and [S/N] were laughing it off with a couple of the actors, but [B/N] was having a heated argument with the rest of them, and they were starting to shove each other around; he'd always been a sore loser. The coach separated them, and [F/N] called to you from below. "Guess we failed this quest, huh?"

You shrugged. "It's all good. There are other, less dangerous quests."

He perked up. "Yeah, so hurry up and get down here! We've gotta get back to Glewnburg!"

You tossed the beanbag you'd had in your hand back into the net. "Comin'." Unfortunately for you, you were a bit of a show-off. You stood, stretching your arms out for balance, walking quickly and carefully across the bough. A loud snap that echoed through the forest silenced everyone: your sudden movements had weakened the branch down the middle, where a split was slowly cracking open.

"Oh shit." Did I have to choose the top branch?

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as you fell. Your ribs exploded with pain as you slammed into a slightly lower branch full-force. Your ankle snapped. Your arms were whipped and bruised. Your head cracked painfully across the thick, unmoveable base of one branch, and white and yellow dots burst in your vision. Your sight started to fade, as did the pain, until you met the ground with a dull thud.

I should've went to college.

~time skip~

When you woke up, the first thing you realized was, Hey, I woke up! I'm alive! which was immediately followed by, Holy fucking shit what the fucking hell did I break, then a much more painful thought of Why the fuck am I still in the goddamn forest?

And you were. You were laying on your side, in a couple of very small but still immensely terrifying pools of drying blood, one of which came from the corner of your mouth. Your entire body throbbed painfully. Every breath you took caused sharp, white-hot pains to spiderweb across your entire torso. Your ankle was burning up, and you couldn't move it or your left arm. Your head felt like you'd been hit by a truck. A truck made of solid wood...

Why were you still in the forest? You knew your mother well enough to know that she've panicked. She'd've screamed your name and ran to you and called 911 immediately. [F/N] would've done the same. In fact, there was no reason why they wouldn't have called for a medic. You fell from the equivalent of a three-story building with poles sticking out of it.

By all accounts, you should be near death.

So why were you still in the forest, exactly where you'd fell?

With immense effort, you rolled onto your back, panting heavily and wincing against the pain. Your vision swam, and things were blurry. The trees were different; the tree where you'd fallen from was tall and branchless for most of the way up, and definitely not an oak. To boot, there weren't any nets full of beanbags, and your spear was gone. Behind you was a cliff with an outcropping of rock that looked similar-- but not the same-- to the one [F/N] had been behind. There were roots and underbrush and bushes and walls of thorny branches surrounding you, and in between the ground was filled of orange and gold fallen leaves; up in the canopy, which hadn't been as thick before, the leaves were all dressed for Fall. You stared at it in confusion. "What the hell?" Shit. Even that hurt.

Where were you? Why weren't you in an ambulance with the sirens blaring? You were pretty positive you'd broken quite a few bones, and from that fall, you couldn't not have internal bleeding. So where were you?

You waited, but no one came. When the sky started to darken and the pain began to worsen, you were forced to move, slowly getting up, inch by inch, until you'd managed to be in a sitting position. It felt like all the blood rushed from your head and torso, making you cold in the evening chill. You hugged your right arm to your chest, really wishing you'd've worn arm cuffs or something; your short, high-collared, sleeveless, sky-blue leather jacket over a thin white crop top and a black corset-style belt really weren't meant for chilly weather.

"Hello?" You called out. Your voice carried on, but you got no return call. Blood trickled down your chin from where your lips had rebusted; you were lucky you hadn't bit your tongue off or shattered teeth. "Hey! Help!" Still, nothing. "Hey!"

After a twenty-minute bout of screaming for help, you gave up. You were confused-- so, so, confused. Where were you and why were you here? Where was your family? Where was [F/N]? Where was the coach, and those shitty actors? Hell, where was the rest of the LARP group? You'd even be relieved if Jacob appeared out of nowhere.

The moon had risen by the time you’d made it to your feet. Your ankle wasn't as bad as it was earlier; you could put some weight on it now, even if it wasn't a lot. You must've only sprained it. You tried calling for help a few more times, but only the crickets replied.

Then, they went silent.

You frowned. In books and movies, that was usually a bad sign. What'd caused them to shut up so abruptly? Not aliens, you hoped, like in Signs.

A low growl from behind you-- behind you, dammit-- made your skin crawl. A chill ran down your spine. You turned, slowly, hoping you wouldn't aggravate the wolf or coywolf or whatever it was; it wasn't either of those.

It stood on top of the small cliff, and it was at least the size of a horse. A boar-like coat, dull brown, covered its entire body, spotted in places. Its head was broad and massive, bearing an underbite of fangs and small beady eyes. Drool fell from its jaws as it snarled at you. You were half tempted to try the "Nice doggie" before you seen the rider.

Damn, it was ugly as hell. Small, malformed, with dark green skin and a crooked nose. Greasy, thin hair hung from its wrinkled scalp. Nasty claws protruded from its wart-covered fingers and dug into the horn of some kind of saddle. It sneered with an evil grin, and a mouthful of sharp teeth.

You didn't know what else to do; you took off running at full speed, ignoring the pains shooting up your leg from your sprained ankle. Branches and weeds whipped your skin, trailing blood. You glanced back once. The monster-- which you knew was an orc-- and the giant dog that you couldn't place the name of watched you for a couple of moments more before the orc gave a sharp order in a language you didn't understand, but it felt familiar. Two more of the giant dogs burst from the bushes on either side of the first, and they did give chase. Shit, were they what'd happened to your family? Some whackjob dressed as an orc riding a pitbull on steroids mauled everybody?!

You pushed yourself to run faster. Your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline rushed through your veins. Each step jarred your aching body, but you couldn't stop. The dogs were enjoying the chase, keeping their strides slow enough to still be on your heels, but not close enough to get you yet. A new sound-- a river, maybe-- gave you hope, and you tried to move even faster, your lungs burning from the strain.

It was a river you'd heard, but it was down a steep hill filled of arching roots and thorny bushes. You didn't have time to stop; you barreled forward, tripped, and rolled the rest of the way, hurting your body even further. By the time you reached the pebbly shore (With all of the sharp edges of the rocks jabbing into you unnecessarily.), the dogs were halfway down, the orcs riding them laughing like hyenas.

You couldn't swim, but you'd rather take your chances with the river than with the giant pitbulls. You waded in, and were immediately swept off your feet by the strong current. It dragged you under, and you were bashed into some boulders, getting cut up badly. One slammed into your hip, nearly causing you to suck in. Another rammed into your already-broken ribs, and this time, you did scream, getting a huge gulp of water. A crimson cloud engulfed you as something long and sharp burst through your calf. You were pushed up against another boulder, and you grabbed on, hauling yourself out of the water and hanging on for dear life, hacking and coughing out the water that'd filled your lungs.

The dogs had chased you up the shoreline, and the orcs carried shortbows with arrows of dark wood. A glance down and, sure as fuck, they'd hit you with one in the calf, dammit. You looked ahead of you: rapids, a slow and drawn-out death. Ahead of you, probably a very painful death, but hopefully it'd go faster than drowning while being battered to a lifeless corpse.

I should've gone to college.

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and braced yourself for the next arrow, but you were pretty much forced to open them again when you heard the sound of dogs yelping and orcs wailing. One of the dogs was dead, neck slashed open and pouring blood onto the rocks. It had landed on its rider, who struggled beneath its weight. The other dog had taken off, but its rider had an arrow jutting out of its face.

A troop of warriors, clad in forest-colored tunics of dark browns, greens, and grays had appeared in the second you'd closed your eyes. Every one of them had long, straight hair, braided away from their faces. Most had a quiver of arrows and a longbow, but some, like the one who'd killed the dog, had a curved longsword. Others still had long knives. Compared to the dark orcs, these people seemed to almost be made of light...

Oh shit.

Elves. These were Elves.You could see it clearly now, in the way they carried themselves: regal, majestic, every move perfectly balanced and smooth. Their ears were pointed, but not drastically like the ones from Zelda, and they were taller than most average men. You were in awe.

These were some damn good actors.

No, they couldn't be actors. That clicked, finally. Especially when you were able to see the one that'd killed the dog slice off the struggling orc's head cleanly and deftly before kicking it into the river. Thankfully, it didn't come near you.

Shit. These were real orcs, real giant bloodthirsty dogs, real Elves... This was all real. But how...?

You heard the sound of a bowstring being pulled taut, much closer to you. You couldn't exactly whip around in your current state, but you still moved as fast as you could. Another Elf, standing on the flat rocks halfway across the river, no less than thirty feet away. How the hell did he get there?!

After the initial shock passed, you realized there was an arrow nocked in the bow. You'd already felt one once in the last ten minutes, you didn't need to feel it again, so you stayed still. He watched you with eyes so blue you could see them from where you were. He was illuminated from the side by the moon, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. His hair was somewhere between platinum and very light blonde, and a quiver of orange-feathered arrows hung over two identical sheaths for ivory-handled long knives. His bow was almost as gorgeous as he was: dark wood engraved with golden leaf designs. His tunic was dark green, and you admired his fancy Elven belts and buckles and bracers for a second before your eyes were drawn back to his face, the profile of which was almost... Dished, in a way, like an Arabian horse's. Your eyes locked, and you felt as if you'd seen him somewhere before...

An Elf on the shoreline spoke, breaking the trance. You couldn't understand what exactly he said; you could've swore you knew some Elvish...

The Elf staring you down watched you for a minute longer, then jerked his bow toward you in gesture, shouting an order to one of his comrades. His voice sounded so familiar... It was on the tip of your brain... It was deep and soft and gentle and commanding all at once. You couldn't explain it. Two Elves followed his order, nimbly leaping from tiny rock to tiny rock to get to where he was, then past him, coming to you. Their weapons were sheathed, so you hoped they were going to help you instead of kicking you into the water or something.

Carefully, noticing how banged up you were, they grabbed you underneath of the arms and lifted you onto the flat rocks the blue-eyed Elf stood on, still ready to fire, and stepped back as you coughed up some water in a delayed reaction to nearly drowning.

When you finished, your eyes felt like they wanted to close on their own. You felt too tired, too weak, too pained... Despite that, you sat up, shivering in the chilly evening air. "Th-thank you..." With a start, you realized they might not even understand English.

"Who are you?" The blue-eyed Elf demanded. "Answer me quickly; do not think we cannot throw you back to the river."

Shit. Pressure. Suddenly you forgot your name for a split second. "I-I'm [Y/N]."

"What are you doing in these lands?"

"I was chased," You looked pointedly at the dog and orc.

The Elf watched you for a minute, judging you... He signaled. "Throw them back into the river." Suddenly, you were being dragged.

Aw, fuck. You struggled against the Elf's strong grips. "W-wait! I don't even know where I am! The last thing I knew I was playing a game with my family and I fell out of a tree! All of a sudden I'm being chased by giant dogs and being manhandled by a couple of Elvish pri--!" You were cut off by a bought of coughing that wracked your body so hard that you doubled in on yourself, pulling the Elves down with you. Your eyes widened when blood trickled out of your mouth, leaving crimson droplets on the rocks. Shit.

The blue-eyed Elf ordered something in their tongue, and the two dragging you halted on a dime. He finally decided to lower his bow a little, inspecting you. "Are there more of you?"

You shook your head; you were getting dizzy, and your vision was blacking out. "I-I don't know... I was alone when I woke up."

The Elves conversed in their own language for a few minutes, and the blue-eyed Elf finally came to the conclusion that you weren't much of a threat in your current state. He looked to the Elves on the shoreline, and gestured at one of the ones holding you, who then scooped you up bridal style, but like you were the ugliest bride he'd ever seen. "Und win'doheim!" Shouted the blue-eyed Elf, obviously the one in charge, and lead the progression back to the forest.

I should never have gotten out of bed today...

Despite the crazy situation, you managed to doze off a few times on the Elf that carried you, until a coughing fit or pain would wake you up. A fever spiked up as you crossed a bridge, and you were half out of it as you entered some kind of woody building surrounded by trees and rivers that you couldn't comprehend very well in your feverish state. You were panting and wheezing, and couldn't see straight. It all seemed so surreal, like you were viewing this from somebody else's perspective. This had to be a dream... A very vivid, very painful dream...

The last thing you remembered was Elvish chanting, golden and white lights surrounding you, and the silhouettes of the Elves. Your pain faded, and you fell into a forced sleep.

When you woke up, a breath of relief whooshed out of your lungs. It was a dream! It was all a dream! It was night, and your nighlight had gone out, but your hall light was still on. You turned over to see what time it was, but your nightstand was gone. So was your window, and shelves and desk and computer and all of your things. Your bed was different. Your relief dissipated to terror.

Fuck. It wasn't a dream.

You were in a small room. An orange-hued light came through the low doorway, and the dark walls were ridged, as if carved from the earth itself. You felt the remains of your injuries from earlier-- or days ago, you couldn't tell how much time had passed-- as throbbing remains. Your clothes were still ripped and bloodstained, and as you stood up, it felt like you were just coming off of the flu.

Wobbly, you staggered over to the doorway, hoping to find somebody that definitely wasn't an orc or Elf.

You slammed face-first into elaborately crafted iron bars.

Outside of them, fully-armored Elves patrolled on small ledges beside the spiraling rows upon rows of cells like yours. This was a dungeon.

...Well shit.

Tag List: @tesserphantom @thedragonghostofmordor @taurlel @hauntedsiriel

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blankdblank · 4 years

Text

Hobbit Soulmate Pt 21

Shelob, the Ent Battle, more takes on the ride of the Rohirrim and Osgiliath’s scenes were shot in your absence. By the time you landed and turned on your phone messages had filled your inbox making you smirk at the curious sight. Richard would be calling to guide you to his car yet you were caught off guard by a sudden flash in front of you. Glancing up you flashed a wave to the line of cameras surely there for anyone else and felt your father’s hand on your back guiding you to the baggage claim. Waiting for the bags to drop Richard’s call came in and you answered the call, “Hey Rich.”

“You haven’t seen the news, have you?”

“I’ve been on a plane, so, no. Why, are you pregnant or something?”

Scoffing in a laugh back at you he replied, “Jaqi, you’ve been nominated for a Tony!” That had your jaw drop and you squeaked only to have him say, “I’m at the gate when you’re ready.” To himself he chuckled when you hung up and got to fetching your bags unable to share with your father just what he had said.

“Hello, I’m Richard,” He introduced himself shaking your father’s hand luring his attention from the assembled trio of cameras taking your picture, “It seems you flew through the news, Jaqi was nominated for a Tony Award.”

His eyes narrowed a moment and your father asked, “I’m a bit fuzzy on the names, who was Tony again? Oscar is the naked gold guy.”

Richard chuckled replying in the dropping of their hands guiding him to the trunk he opened, “Tony’s are for plays and musicals. Jaqi was nominated for Best Performance by a Leading Actress in a Musical. Very justly I might add.” Smirking at you as he claimed your bag to settle inside, circling his arm around your back to kiss your forehead, “Congratulations.” You leaned into his hug and he caught your father’s eye again asking, “Nice flight? Never been on one lasting to a full day before.”

Joe, “It was not the worst flight I’ve had. How has it been here? Your play went well? Got to tape it, right?”

Richard, “Yes,” leading the way to his car, the passenger seat of which was as far back as it could go making Joe smirk following you in after you’d climbed in behind Richard. “Play went well, very good cast.” After wetting his lips and starting up the engine he said, “Got my ears open for a new direction to look. Reading some plays and scripts I heard would be up for auditions soon, getting a good feel for them.”

Joe smirked saying, “If you need a break no need to hide that from me. Hoping Pumpkin takes some time off after this, you should have seen her, tearing away daily. Nearly a film roll of just bruises and injuries from it all.”

Richard stole a glance back at you making you smirk at him, “Mainly from the battle scenes, Helm’s Deep took four months,” dropping his jaw, “Exactly. Not counting the day I fell on my ax and bruised four of my ribs.”

Joe, “You had four cracked ribs and a sprained knee.”

“Right,” you replied with a hint of a giggle to yourself at the look Richard gave you.

Richard, “Do you have today off at least?”

“Yes, though first thing we have to be off to the lots here. Christopher Lee needs some body to read his lines with on the green screen and Dad is coming out of a mud pit.”

Joe chuckled explaining, “That’s how Peter described it, Uruk-hai are born out of a sort of sack in mud pits. I’m going to be scooped out and I kill an orc, get my orders and armor from Saruman before I’m off to hunt the Hobbits.”

Richard nodded, “Ah, well I can’t wait to see it. Sounds grand to fit all in one film.”

“Three,” you and Joe blurted out making Richard glance between you before you continued, “But you can’t tell yet. Peter said he got the green light to split it into three. Though even then he says there’ll be extended cuts put out later.”

Richard, “Sounds fantastic. You’re just working on the few scenes left then out here?”

“Also he wanted me to see what he had for the score and vocals so far. Plus I think he just likes a fresh opinion on things from a fan on occasion.”

Joe, “With a project like this I would want all the fans I could get. Besides Pumpkin, you’re more than a fan. You are a rock. For the die hard book pushers you were excellent to have around, for everyone from the actors to him, Fran and Phillipa. You remind them of the direction they need to go while being true to their own take on the tale.”

Richard, “They didn’t stick to the book?”

“They made things a bit more chronological from what I can see. So it doesn’t follow the flow of the book, but from A to B in the film events it works fluidly. It’s bound to be spectacular.”

Rich chuckled, “Yes, I have no doubt on that.”

Dinner was fixed up and with a comfy place in Richard’s spare room, formerly yours, the bonding was underfoot. Over the weekend his parents would come out to meet Joe and Chris dropped by with a cake for dessert eagerly folding you in a hug sharing all that Richard had been up to while you were gone, mainly all the shelf kits and the table he even built for Chris simply to keep himself distracted between sleepless nights.

Bright and early post lingering kiss ending your night of cuddling you joined your father in dressing for the subway path to work. Still groggy from the long flight and the early hour up your father cuddled with you making sure to keep hold of you in the bustling tunnels oblivious of the curious glances your way wondering about the tall stranger in their midst. The end of the line came with you entering the studio and stopping at the desk you peered over on your toes to get your name badges to get inside. Following the maze of directions at the end was Christopher Lee and Ian again, both who smiled in turning to face you and your father and in a group you joined the three in getting helped into costume. You however giggled your way into a green suit and off to the side to end up on a stool a few feet from Ian dressed as Gandalf. Holding the exact transcripts of the takes they had chosen to go with it all flooding back to you as you crossed your legs on the stool.

From above while your father was with the group of Orcs and Uruk-hai for their scenes later Christopher stood atop a platform set of the top of his tower with Grima peeking out behind a pillar to wave at you glad to see you both again. Animatedly you mimicked the voices of those speaking around Gandalf aiding in Saruman’s fiery retorts and threats. A momentary debate on what a man really does when stabbed in the back between Christopher and Peter ended in a trusting that the actor truly had experience over Peter in the matter before you watched the stand in for Saruman turn to trust fall to you and another green suit clad man. Starting what had already been recorded of the flipping fall using a harness and wires in a green screen while you had been running the several takes of dialog and Grima’s attack then collapse.

Beside Peter and Ian however in the swap off to another set you were inside the birthing pit of the Uruk-hai and you smirked seeing your father clawing his way out of his mud sack. He didn’t get the reasoning behind the foolish side of acting, but the more he got to know his fellow Uruk-hai actors and stunt men you worked with it became clear, the wish to do anything to bring the character to life. Because at the end of the day it might seem foolish but exactly what is needed to fill it all out for spectators, so animatedly he snarled and growled with subtle clicks and rumbles to his voice exposing his fake teeth in his growling delivery of his lines. Mainly for how brightly your smile got seeing how happy you were in working together on this project. Loving this film more and more for how close you had grown in these past months together after so long apart, unable to ever forget a moment of it even without the shoeboxes of pictures from it you had filled.

It was a major point for him at first, he was here to support you and somehow he had ended up with more lines than you did, background murmurs was the best you were granted through Rohan in your time outside of Gimli. A major sticking point for even the main crew how hard you pushed to just be the stand in, loving it all so much and somehow never being jealous or petty because you had to remain silent, part of why him and Howard Shore agreed to have you help on the score for background vocals. Subtle as ever but your voice would be flooded through the films wherever they could manage it.

Through the week your father would return for more fill ins for his character and others with all the other dark creatures while the next day started you off in the sound studio a the other end of the lot. Just walking in you inspected everything from afar only to smile when Howard turned from his papers to you taking notice of his company at the closing of the heavy door. Ushering you over hands were shaken and right away you delved into what he had so far. Track by track to rough clips of the film you stared at in awe between glances down tugging yourself out to aid in laying out the lyrics they had chosen of Elvish choirs yet to be recorded to start vocalizing what you had thought up for the tone of it.

Always soft at first you caught his grins at the talent and voice you held, losing yourself to the first relay of actual demos of the tracks often layered to form a mock choir. All day you slaved over it with a basic idea that through the week would grow grander with actual choirs to be brought in later, before leaving however you anxiously sat aside while Peter arrived to sit through it all with eyes shut soaking it all in. Minute changes were suggested with an overall approval of what you had done.

Busy didn’t come close, because once your father was off to Texas for a well needed break for him you were back in school and still helping with the choirs and score. Often taking your violin with you to go with the piano bits you would use to help share what you had thoughts on for the start of the recordings that Viggo came to do. A day of tight hugs and sharing again of the developed rolls of film you had brought to show off you both reminisced and shared glee that you would be coming back to work together in pick ups later in the year.

Off to New York however in June you went and exhaled sharply in the lobby of your apartment building. Glancing at the stairs you seemed to freeze in place feeling so different in that moment since the last time you had come down them and from the sound of your Landlord’s office opening had your head turning and your grin creeping open seeing him stroll out to greet you. Richard was under the weather and while Lee seemed to both be busy with new auditions and stewing over the picture you sent him with the guys from a dinner in New Zealand beside Elijah with the note, ‘Guess who I got to work with, xo’ on the back of it.

It was confirmed you had no guest seat so you were going stag, leaving it all the more daunting, but Ian would be presenting and would be picking you up and driving you home again. Two days, you were here for the weekend and barely would have time to head back to the airport to catch a red eye back to make it to your class in time. What you didn’t expect was to hear your landlord say, “Got a call earlier, someone from some a driver company confirmed a car for you in a bit.”

“I, what? I didn’t call anyone.” Pulling your phone out of your pocket you turned it on and watched a message from your grandparents you listened to, informing you that the driver would be taking you shopping for the event. In a huff you glanced up, “Apparently it’s a gift.” Making your Landlord smirk then usher you up to eat something before they got there.

“Elijah Wood?!” The name rang out over the line and finally able to talk for a good chunk of time your schedules overlapped he wanted to hear all you could share on your fellow cast members and how it went with your Dad especially through the long shoot.

Sure enough though once you had hung up from calling Richard, on his way from a soaking bath to clear up his chest to his bed you assured he had finished the soup you had left for him in the freezer. Then hung up to let your stuffy teddy bear in his miserable sick funk rest your Landlord called up the stairs for you. Popping up you hurried to your stash of cash from your porn man stash bag you pocketed and assured you had your phone and keys to hurry down to see where you would be taken to. Straight to the designer district you were driven and the town car parked with the driver popping out to escort you through each store.

Right away you felt every inch Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman out of place but keeping your focus on the clothes you browsed through the first flashing grins to each lanky assistant coming closer to see just what you might be up to. Along the wall you stopped and eyed a silver clutch with a chain you could use again and again that without a sign of anything you might feel was Tony worthy you carried it to the register and stunned the man in the suit behind the counter who made sure to make a show of checking each of your hundred dollar bills before adding them to the register and printing your receipt he added to the designer sack for your bag. “Thank you. Have a lovely day,” you said turning to head out to the street again only to pass up the next one selling only absurdly unaffordable bags to one that might have a dress.

Apparently more amused than he had assumed Greg, your driver patiently lingered behind you all through while people stared at you in your ink splattered jeans, converse and baggy long sleeved shirt wearing self under all your loose curls bounding around and pooling into your face. Though this time seeing the bag from the shop down the street the assistants seemed a bit more pleasant in your presence there, yet no more helpful while you shifted the gowns on the rack. It was hard to find something close to fitting you in this land made for giants and not the under five foot bubble you lived in, and those near to your size ended up to be more prom like. Yet tucked on a rack in the back you glanced back making Greg smirk and help you bring down the pink sparkly backless number you had found. “I think I have to go pink.”

That had him chuckle and turn as an assistant came over to you asking, “Wouldn’t you prefer something newer? That rack is for last season.”

“Most of the new racks don’t have my size.”

Spreading her fake grin she said, “Well we could always have them resized and shipped here for you. It is quite handy you know, we call you when it comes in.”

“That would be handy, only, I need the dress for tomorrow.” Her head tilted slightly and you asked, “You don’t have dressing rooms, do you?”

“Allow me,” she said with a grin claiming the hanger from you guiding you to the dressing rooms nearly half the way back you came from in a spacious seating area around a platform surrounded by mirrors. Greg took a seat holding your bag he silently claimed flashing you a comforting grin and watched you be led through the open area to one of the changing rooms. Right outside she waited as if to listen to you possibly shoving the gown into your pants or something before you made a break for it. Rolling your eyes at the shadow under the door you turned and started to strip, folding your clothes and already seeing how slim your figure had shifted again compared to your formerly heavily toned self. Back to your sort of normal curvy petite self you stood in your underwear and undid the button on the dress behind your neck hole and lowered it to step into it and ease it up.

Around you it seemed to hug you just right and lifting up onto your toes you turned seeing the train of the dress still hanging a bit around your feet easily mended with some pins as this fabric would be a nightmare to hem in such short notice. Pastel pink coated in shimmering panels into the design coating the sleeveless dress almost resembling a skyscraper making you smirk. Over your back, entirely open dangled a woven pair of shimmering beaded chains visible when you raised your hair to pool on top of your head.

The knock on the door had your head turning at the assistant asking, “Need help securing it?”

Exhaling softly you lowered your hands to hold the skirt to open the door making her turn and look you over stunned at the figure hidden under your baggy layers, “No. I could use a second opinion though.”

Up and down her brows shifted then she forced out her same grin saying, “You certainly will be the best dressed at your prom.”

Grinning back you said, “Thank you,”

Reaching out she lifted the tag dangling from your left arm hole saying, “Since this one is last season it will be half off, but hopefully for you none of the other teens will be wearing the same one.” She stepped back saying, “I’ll wait here to carry it for you once you’ve changed back.” Closing the door for you making you roll your eyes again and turn reaching up to unbutton the dress mouthing a curse filled rant at the woman in your shimmy out of it and into your clothes again.

Irritated you fluffed out your curls adamant even if you ever became a household name you’d never change how you dressed or acted and lifted the gown the assistant claimed and fake floated her way to the register missing the face you made at her back that drew a chuckle from Greg who stood to follow you. The half off but still ridiculously expensive dress was folded into a garment bag even though clearly the almost sneering women were oh so blatantly judging you on your choice from their last season. Again a show was made of testing your bills and Greg claimed your second bag following you out to follow your curious path to a shoe store.

Had they held superpowers you would have been thrown from the shop upon entering and as you strolled through the first rack your eyes rose to the manager who approached you after having been whispered to by a pair of Barbie looking evident arm candy wives who had finger wagged him over to complain. Grinning at him you said, “Hello, I suppose I’m being asked to leave?”

Calmly but no less passive aggressively he replied with a fake grin, “Unfortunately I am here to enforce a certain image, and with our best customers here, someone so, casually dressed, no matter the bags in your possession does not fit the mood of our store.”

“Ok, have a nice day, no doubt you need to keep up your image with awards in town.”

“Exactly.” He answered with a nod, “So glad you understand.”

You smirked saying, “Do you watch the Tony’s?”

“Yes,” he answered excitedly, “Every year.”

You nodded and said, “I hear this one’s going to be amazing. Bye bye.” You said turning away leaving Greg a bit confused but two steps behind.

“Bye bye,” he replied waving you off before turning to the smiling pair glad of their victory.

Outside however Greg asked lowly, “Why bring up the show if you weren’t going to say you are nominated?”

Smirking up at him you said, “Delayed satisfaction. Plus I get to imagine his reaction when I show up.” Making Greg chuckle as you added, “Once I cross five feet I’m not allowed to be openly petty, till then, subtly jerks are open targets.”

“Where to now?” He asked seeing you were headed back to the car.

“There’s a great little place I know for shoes, probably not going to be tabloid worthy for some.”

Smirking to himself he followed your directions and unwilling to leave the bags even in the trunk he draped the dress bag over his arm and carried your purse behind you only to pause seeing the sheer number of Drag Queens inside feeling instantly curious why you were here. Behind the counter the first gasp came from the Dolly Parton dressed woman who hurried over in the sea of her friends who were browsing her new stock in the shoe shop fueling their little scene of performers in town, all of whom loved it when you used to come in and fawn over their incredible but oversized collection. Your pouts stirred the owner to start carrying smaller sizes as well aiding the shorter Queens in need of shoes as well for their own personas.

“While I live and breathe! Jaqi Pear!” Eagerly she folded you into a shoulder hug faking a kiss on your cheek followed by another on the other cheek.

The raven haired Cher beside her asked, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting? You are going to the Tony’s tomorrow.”

“I would, however, I happen to need shoes.”

Dolly’s mouth dropped open, “I did not just hear that!”

A fiery haired Lucille Ball asked, “You’re wearing our shoes to the Tony’s?!”

“Well they kicked me out of Louboutin.”

A Madonna said, “They did not!”

“They did.”

Dolly glanced at Greg asking with a smirk, “New arm candy? What happened to your handsomely bashful Lee?”

After a giggle you answered, “Lee is working in California, Greg here was hired by my grandparents to drive me for a shopping trip today.”

Cher pointed at the bags, “Your choices?” you nodded, “Mind a peek?”

Shaking your head you said, “Not at all. It’s last season for the dress but it’s still lovely.”

Dolly, “On you anything would be lovely.”

Gasps sounded in a medley of praises for it as they opened the bag seeing the front of the dress, “It’s backless, and really long, so I’ll need some good platform heels. Hopefully a bit more burlesque than hooker for the height,” the terms making the ladies smirk and watch Dolly claim the second bag to peer inside.

Dolly gasped again lifting the glittery grey fold over clutch, “This bag-,”

“I picked it first, tried to keep it plain but a tad flashy at the same time.”

Cher, “Do you want heels to match the dress or bag?”

“Bag I think, I would not be against glitter if you have it.”

Dolly smirked, “Honey, we have glitter.” Claiming your hand to guide you back to the section for their smaller shoes, “I think I have just the pair for you.” All around you the group lingered helping to give thoughts on the line of shoes they all suggested with tips on how to help you walk in them, each sticking to your preference for strapped shoes so they wouldn’t fall off mid step.

Tilting your head peering at your reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrored corner Lucille broke your focus saying, “Honey you should try it with the dress.”

Dolly nodded saying, “Yes, we have a changing room, have ladies test their looks here all the time.” Leading you back to it hanging the garment bag up and they all waited and gasped again when you stepped out near to blushing at their praise for your choice.

Madonna, “That dress on you, perfection.”

“Thank you, the sales woman said I would look lovely at my prom.”

Cher shook her head, “Idiots, all of them.”

Dolly said coming over with another pair of shoes. “Seeing it on, I think this pair,” crouched down she helped you to add them and stood guiding you over to the mirrors they all nodded approving of the silver heels with straps crossing over the tops of your feet to wrap around your ankles securing with a nice buckle you loved. Madonna broke out her hem kit and got to helping you stealthily pin up the hem to the right length in the front to ease your walk then eased out some thread to blend into the base material she made small points of stitches between each sparkly section through the revealed base fabric along the front. Removing the pins at the easy task she smiled packing it up and you thanked her for the help with it.

Accepting the bag each of them had admired on their own break as you changed they all nodded, “Perfect,” brushing your hair over your left shoulder.

Cher, “Yes, leave your fabulous hair down, maybe pin this side over to the left, or a nice braid,” she said earning an agreeing nod from you.

A few more tips were given and you changed back again meeting the ladies at the register in their urge to let you get home to rest up as much as you could. While she unfolded the bag for your shoes you said, “Thank you again. I had no clue what I would do for this on the flight over. You’re all so wonderful, really.”

Dolly, “Honey, you know you are welcome here anytime, and we will always love to help you out. We got to stick together in this big city.” She glanced at your other bags again, “And you will get so much out of that dress and bag.”

Cher, “For the event you get the discount.”

“I’ll definitely remember to name the shop if anyone asks me, and when I get back, as thanks I’ll let you have the bag.” Their jaws dropped in surprised squeaks, “Usually I need to carry more so you all might get more use out of it.”

Dolly, “I’m throwing in those wedges you liked too,” hurrying over to go fetch the simple black strappy wedges you had noticed earlier.

Cher, “You’re giving us the bag?”

You nodded, “You have my word,”

Cher, “Oh I’m not doubting your word, processing, I call first dibs!” she said pointing to herself when Dolly hurried back earning a pointed glare.

Dolly, “Fine, but I get to use on my birthday. And of course Lucy you get it for your show while Madonna you get it for that charity mixer after that earning agreeing nods while Dolly took your bills and counted out the change you slipped into the donation tin earning more grateful hugs and well wishes from the group on your way out to the car again behind the still slightly confused Greg.

Again you were in your apartment where you checked your messages confirming just when to be ready for Ian to come get you. Nice and simple you had to keep your hair and makeup as again you would be slipping back into the Cell Block Tango number with the cast from Chicago, who were excited to be up for three awards themselves as part of the show. Bathed and ready you got to stretching and warming up your voice for the number you would be performing live. Shaking from nerves you stood ready pacing in the front lobby after Ian’s call that he was on his way with your Landlord confirming that he got the channel and you had hung up from the call to your family in Texas all watching and taping the show as well.

It all seemed to blur together, outside the car pulled up and you were now outside holding onto your bag seeing Ian on his feet smiling and looking you over. “Simply splendid Darling.” Folding you into a hug you melted into, “Just breathe, I know these nerves well. Just breathe.” Taking your hand guiding you to the car you slid into. “I hope you will be up for an after party when all this is through.”

“I doubt I’ll be able to sleep.” Making him chuckle again and fold his hand around yours on your lap as he closed the door and the car turned to head to the Radio City Music Hall. The full ride he edged you out of your nerves to a calmer state sharing what he had been up to and into a new level of nerves hearing who would be watching confirmed in the audience.

Then before you knew it flashes were in front of you and out again you eased behind the well known actor who made certain to keep his hold on your hand. Beside him you posed smiling for the cameras unable to help but calm remembering the shop manager who no doubt would be knowing who he had turned away yesterday. The giggle you gave had Ian smirking and inquiring on the amusement only to laugh at your story and guide you on. Skipping his interviews to keep from you being pushed ahead alone he led you inside

And right off a radio and clipboard clad man came over confirming your arrival and handed you a time sheet so you would know when to head back to get ready for the performance. Upon running into two ladies also in your show, who pushed that back even earlier so you could relax and melt into the roles again with ample time, the plan was adjusted slightly. Right in the section beside Ian and his famous eager friends who gushed at meeting you and seeing your performance you claimed your assigned seat and settled in for the start of the show.

One opening number got the ball rolling and post opening monologue for a play after the host Rosie O’Donnell came out again to break the space between presenters to come for the first award of the evening. Plays came first, and right before the Choreography award your group was up. A bit of an odd mix in the tamer shows up this year including Jesus Christ Superstar opposing your undoubtedly more scandalous show. With your eyes closed you were back in the same makeup and bikini costume layered in sheer sleeves and stockings complete with the same bob wig pinned to your now braided and capped hair. On the dark stage you exhaled to the first click of the music behind your rolling cell bars to the sight of the curtains opening again.

For all they had heard about your show to see it live was another thing altogether, and since the ensemble and choreography was up for awards along with you this was the song they chose, Cell Block Tango. Across the faces of the audience awe locked at the flawless fierce performance fully showing off all your hard work. And at your same growling line and threatening glint of murder in your brilliantly lit up eyes when the red scarves unfurled from your palms chills rippled through the rooms lingering as you folded back into the amping up medley of fierce dancers all growling through to the end of the song. Loud and fierce to fading silence again your voices drew back at your retreat behind your cage bars again as the lights dropped lower and lower until the curtains closed to the sound of the slamming of the bars shut. Seven minutes the number lasted and even the host Rosie O’Donnell had to take a moment to find her voice again before the crowd erupted when you had cleared the stage fully.

Best Choreography was up next and clearly after seeing just a sliver of the show the crowd already had a favorite. Sure enough when Chicago was called cheers could be heard from you all back stage while the appointed official face of the show for the evening came out to the sound of the cheering crowd on their feet again to give his speech prepared.

By the next award you had changed and snuck your way out again to another play category being named, hushedly giggling to Ian’s compliments to your performance and those from the group around you. Costume design came up next and Best Musical afterwards, both wins for Chicago earning cheers again for the same official bringing out another prepped speech sounding a bit the same as the others with just a few new names or details to each. More play categories came up and was finally naming the best performers in each knotting up your stomach.

Next to last, your name was read in the list of nominees for the Lead Actress in a Musical. And with a camera swiveling to show you glancing to Ian now squeezing your hand as if to wake you up, a blink later you watched the statuesque blonde holding the trophy while Nathan Lane held the envelope and upon opening it he smiled himself and dying into cheers you heard, “Jaqi Pear as Velma Kelly in Chicago!”

Ian’s cologne and sight of the man over his shoulder was what you saw next. Gathering your skirt mid giggle through Ian’s embrace around you your feet settled and he helped you up to your feet. All the way a camera followed along for the start of your downward glancing trot to the steps you giggled easing around the clapping crowd to the steps where the cameras got a nice shot of your shoes. Distantly stirring screams from the watching ladies from the shop pointing at the shoes they helped you clearly seen until you dropped your skirt again in holding out your palms to the tall blonde for the award she was holding out to you. At your side Nathan gave you a side hug saying, “Congratulations.”

In a giggle you replied as he lowered the mic for you, “Thank you, now just watch me drop this and trip over it later.” Making him chuckle and step back to Rosie’s side as you looked over the quieting crowd. In their silence you said, “Above anyone else, I would like to say thank you to my Dad, you sacrificed so much to get me through two phenomenal schools to meander my way here. My Grandparents as well, who have done everything they can to aid and guide me along as well with the rest of my family who I know think I’m a tiny bit mad. My Mate Richard, who is currently sick in bed right now, you’re indescribably amazing. And of course absolutely for tonight and getting the role my teacher Mr Tarl, who first asked me to be under understudy and four days before the show was to start came to say I’d gotten the role,” luring chuckles as you giggled again. “It was all last minute but I wouldn’t change it for the world, thank you, the amazing cast, to the crew, my teachers and friends and even strangers who’ve believed in me to give me absurd chances I could never dream of. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Turned again you were guided by the blonde backstage for an interview and a picture before heading back to your seat once you’d given an address to the team in charge of sending out your engraved awards you would be receiving tin two weeks. To your slightly selfish wish to have it with you Richard’s address was given and keeping hold of the blank trophy you would be returning at the end of the show you went back to your seat again to the happy group.

Producers came next with the largest groups hurrying up to their own speeches and at the near growling clench of your stomach back to the car, trophy free you climbed in joining the boisterous group all excited for the night ahead. Dinner was at a penthouse apartment for none other than Elton John, who you didn’t remember seeing there, but apparently was and loved your number and full show he’d seen the year prior in person. Behind the closed doors you stole a much needed glass of sparkling cider to keep your hand busy with a task instead of shaking at your side while the other held your purse. Like Cinderella however by midnight you were back in the car with Ian, who had a flight to catch as well hugging you tightly as he murmured, “You sleep well Darling, well earned. You were fabulous.”

“Thank you, fly safe. See you soon.”

You had climbed out but heard him reply, “Yes you will, Night, night.” Waving in return as you closed the door then turned to climb up your stoop into your apartment building.

“Oh my.” The words had you giggling and a tight hug from your Landlord came next before his gushing on the show and your win ending with a mini near pout from the tall man hearing that it would be two weeks for your statue to be delivered and the ones used in the show were dummies.

All the same a shower was called for and changed back into traveling clothes you packed your shoes and dress. Holding your emptied clutch you hurried to hand off to the screeching ladies at the shop joining in on the celebrations as well for a few moments before waving you off back to head for your flight to England where your stuffy teddy Bear was now calling you from after having watched the show his family had taped for him so he could rest and watch later.

“You didn’t have to mention me, Love.”

“Yes I did handsome. How is your head?”

“Better, seen the end of it I think.”

“Chest?”

“Still a bit congested. But I am on the mend. We are celebrating when you get home.”

“Yes, I am dropping off my bag making you some soup stealing some cuddles and you are back to bed while I head to class.”

“Ugh,”

“Don’t make me hire Chris to hold you down.”

Again he grumbled but loved having the conversation with you all the same until you had to hang up for your flight. Missing you even more now that he was under the weather and had missed another milestone for you halfway across the world, just wanting to cuddle with you all the more to make up for it, aching to be able to join you in celebrating something of your hard won rewards for a change. Feeling just being in the crowd while you performed or rehearsed was nowhere near enough.

Pt 22

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC #lotr #FIlming #Tony's

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pangtasias-atelier · 4 years

Note

May I request large musclechub Chrom x mRobin? A lot of feeding, working out, and snuggling as well as tummy and muscle rubs please. (Both are large musclechub BTW)

It felt a bit hard getting all to fit, but I hope it all came out ton your liking! Was about to call it done, before I thought of the little stuffing scene, and then that made me think of the little workout scene lol.

I hope you enjoy it!

__________________

“Robin, come spot me,” Already seated on the bench, Chrom wiggles out his arms in preparation. Lying down, he easily positions himself under the metal bar, positions his hands properly as he waits for Robin. His gut rises into the air as he waits, most of his broad yet fat body falling off the bench.

“One second…” Taking a deep breath, Robin slowly squats down. Supporting the bar with his arms and shoulders, it descends as he does. His fat thighs squishing, Robin’s wide stance takes into account so much poundage. His stomach folding on itself as it rests and sits on his wide thighs. His knees perfectly bent, Robin lets out his deep breath. Mentally counting to ten, his calves begin to burn up once more as he rises back up. His body decompresses as he reaches his full height, an admittedly unimpressive stature when considering the other members of the Shepherds. Removing himself from underneath the bar, he slowly brings it down. Finished with his routine, squats Robin’s preferred final workout, he wipes himself off with his towel. Taking a swig of his water, his left hand rests on top of his gut.

Robin and Chrom having married a few years ago, it was after Grima’s defeat that the two found out of the other’s appreciation for the larger things in life. Robin’s hearty appetite for everything edible had been a good jumping start on the two’s quest. Trim defined bodies became bloated as they piled more and more calories on their frames, both enjoying the experience. Chrom’s enjoyment of working out had rubbed off on Robin and what had at first been small exercises to not burn off too many calories was soon found to be unfounded. As instead of losing the fat they had worked so hard to gain, they found themselves packing on muscle as well, both their bodies larger on both spectrums.

Robin definitely enjoying the more gluttonous aspect of their lives, his body is a bit more corpulent than Chrom’s. His purple t-shirt clinging to him, Robin’s powerful biceps bulge. . Covered under a layer of flab, it does nothing to hide the powerful appendages, his arms capable of scaring most would be thieves. His breasts once soft and plump, they still retain their size but no longer sag as they once did, a bit more definition and perkiness to them. His stomach as round as ever, the massive monster shakes from every action Robin takes. His shirt unable to be tucked in, the bottom layer of pudge seeps out from underneath. His black gym shorts cling just as tight as his shirt, the stretchy fabric showing their worth as they fully cover his huge ass. Simultaneously perky yet squared, the confusing mounds of ass perfectly show off Robin’s musclechub self. His thighs covered in a heavy dose of fat, the added strength makes it easy for him to walk, Robin surprisingly deft.

Where Robin enjoys the aspects of gluttony, Chrom prefers the physical exertion to maintain their physiques. Broad shoulders, his low V-neck shows his puffed yet defined collar bone, his strong large moobs having less give to them than Robin’s. Preferring to show off just how big he is, his v-neck is a size or two too small, the hem of the shirt resting above his navel. Ovular and some bounciness, the mass of his stomach is still surprisingly firm, a fact he knows from rubbing it so much. His bulging arms free as ever, Chrom proud to show off his non-branded arm just as much as the other now, the musculature from his workouts showing brighter than light magic. A light layer of flab, his bulging muscle show even at rest, Chrom’s powerful arms even more exaggerated upon flexing. His tree trunk thighs no stranger to power, Chrom’s speed and force is a dangerous combination, most counting him out only to be knocked to the floor before they realize it. His once flat ass still pales in comparison to Robin’s, the two cheeks having obtained some perkiness.

Chugging the last bits of water, Robin sighs. Waddling to Chrom, he keeps his comment of Robin not needing a spotter anymore to himself. Enjoying the view, he doesn’t mind. And Chrom definitely doesn’t mind showing off to his husband. Standing a bit away from the bar, his stomach making it a bit difficult, he still stands at the ready as Chrom grabs it.

Taking in a deep breath as he brings it down to his chest, Chrom breathes out as he lifts it back up. Offering a grin to Robin, the weight is nothing to him, Chrom lifting last week’s max. Blushing as Robin stares at him in awe, Chrom pushes further, continuing his set. The clinking of the weight as Chrom lifts and drops them is the only real sound in their gym. On his last one, Chrom offers a wink to Robin, grinning as he blushes. Placing the bar back, Chrom stands up with aplomb.

“Is it finally time for dinner?” Exaggerating his question, Robin makes a point of sighing, sagging his shoulders as he cradles his belly. Chrom laughs in return. He slaps Robin’s gut, then smacks his ass, Robin letting out a yelp. Chrom then moves to Robin’s biceps, lifting them and making Robin flex, examining them before nodding. Leading the way to the dining room, Chrom immediately stops.

“You didn’t do your bench presses,”

“It’ll be fine,” Robin handwaves the mention. Taking a confident step, he finds his hand linked to Chrom’s, a pleased grin on his face, he easily overpowers Robin. Chrom drags him back to the bench.

“You just need to do five,” Setting the bar, he changes it. The bar thirty pounds under the weight he just lifted, he gives Robin the okay.

“Fine,” Lying down, only a small quarter of his back ends up hanging off the bench. HIs ass does the same. Gripping the bar, he grunts as it falls down. Gritting his teeth, he huffs as he lifts the bar all the way up. “What the hell, Chrom?” Beads of sweat form on his forehead.

“Keep going,” Hands at the ready, Chrom watches Robin struggle but slowly succeeds at his set. Reaching five, he goes to put the bar back before Chrom stops him. “One more, and hold it this time, you’re cutting corners,” Grining, He keeps his hand under the bar.

Huffing and puffing Robin’s stomach rises and quivers in the air. His biceps bulging, he gulps for air as he brings the bar to his broad moobs. Leaving it there for a few seconds, he slowly raises it up, exhaling heavily. His arms shake as he keeps it up but Chrom grabs the bar to put it back.

“Good,” Helping Robin up, Chrom wipes his sweat with his towel. “Now we can eat,” Robin lags behind Chrom as they head to the dining room.

A large room taken up mostly by an almost equally large table, the sprawling amount of plates meant as breakfast is already served. The two taking their seats, Robin’s ass creeps off the edge of it, his stomach digging into the table. Chrom’s fits him perfectly, his stomach only slightly uncomfortable from the pressure.

An omelette placed in front of him, Robin begins digging in, drenching his omelette with ketchup before devouring it. As soon as his fork hits porcelain, he moves onto his next victim, the ham looking appetizing as it always does. Chrom giving an adoring look at him, Robin stops, his mouth half open as the hashbrowns rest on his fork an inch away from his hungry mouth.

“W-what?” Suddenly self-conscious, Robin tugs down his shirt only to see the fabric doesn’t reach past his belly button. Looking at the table, he blanches at the staggering amount of empty plates, time flying so fast upon breakfast time.

“Nothing,” Chrom promptly finishing his third plate, Chrom not a stranger to food either, he places a hand on Robin’s thigh squeezing it before resuming his own breakfast.

Scoffing, Robin still blushes, Chrom’s little touches much adored. Glancing back, most of his breakfast is gone. Quickly swiping at the remaining portions, Robin’s vacuum of a stomach finishes in record time. Standing up, he sees Chrom struggling to handle his last plate. Chrom offering them to him, Robins shakes his head.

“You always encourage me to keep going during my workout,” Robin grabs the plate of pancakes from Chrom. “So I’ll be doing the same,” Grabbing the syrup, Robin squeezes the bottle as if choking it. Folding the pancake with his fork, he grabs four pieces. “Eating is all about efficiency,” Holding Chrom’s jaw, he brings the stack of pancakes into his mouth.

Stubbornly chewing, the hefty helping of syrup doesn’t help Chrom, one eye more closed than the other as he struggles. Robin pressing a hand to Chrom’s stomach, he grins.

“Then you wash it down,” Simply grabbing the gallon of milk, Robin brings that to Chrom’s lips. He tilts it back without warning. Dribbles of milks spill past Chrom’s mouth, Chrom’s muffled groaning sounding.

Letting out a deep groan, he huffs. “Got it,” Resting his head back with his eyes closed.

“You still have some more,”

“Robin…”

“Now now, no excuses. It’s just one bite left,” Robin’s soothing voice and soothing hand on his gut, Chrom obligingly opens his mouth. An unseemly ridiculous amount of pancakes shoved into his mouth, Chrom nearly chokes on it, his tired mouth working overtime to get through it all. Unable to even swallow once, Chrom finds more milk poured down his throats, the remaining bits of pancakes washed down.

“Robin!” His belly cumbersomely full, Chrom remains seated in his chair.

“You just need to work harder for next time,” Robin grins. Chrom finally done, Robin places the plates back down. Placing both hands on Chrom’s filled gut, he lovingly smiles at him, blushing before giving him a kiss on the lips. Pulling back, he sees Chrom mimicking his own blush.

“Ready to workout again?” Chrom punctuates with a flex of his bicep, his other hand on his stomach.

“I’m ready for a quick nap,” Robin teases. Though his grin dies and his eyes widen as Chrom puts his hands on Robin’s arms, squeezing and rubbing them.

“That isn’t a bad idea,” Chrom grabs Robin’s hand, leading him back to their bedroom.

The two taking a quick break, the rest of their day off awaits them with several more workout sessions and stuffing sessions left.

#My writing #fat emblem #buff emblem #buff!robin #buff!chrom #fat!robin #fat!chrom #fat!awakening #buff!awakening

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florafey · 4 years

Text

Thoughts on QoN

I started reading The Queen of Nothing on 19 November, 2019, and finished it about fifteen minutes ago on 23 November, 2019. Much as I did with The Wicked King, here are my thoughts while reading.

Spoilers, of course, are under the cut

- Oak is EIGHT??? I’ve been writing him like a three year old this whole time lol whoops sorry Oak

- Idk how to feel about this whole Vivi/Heather thing it smells like manipulation to me

- Lmao Jude’s a freelancer gotta love it

- I have now named my Goblin Brain Grima Mog how dope is that name fr

- Jude is an adrenaline addict and that’s a fact

- “It feels good to be fighting someone other than myself” SWEETIE CARDAN LOVES YOU

- Oooooooh I like Grima Mog I have a feeling she and Jude are going to cross paths again, maybe in Faeire

- (Also not surprised by Grima’s prediction of Cardan being dethroned soon that boy hates his job more than retail workers during the holidays)

- Oh look, three books in and Jude is finally admitting her feelings for Cardan

- I love the juxtaposition between Taryn in her pretty dress and Jude literally being two steps from death and not seeming to care lol

- Hmmmm okay I want to believe that Taryn killed Locke but couldn’t this just be a way to get Jude back into Faerie??? Idk why they would want that but I don’t trust Taryn

- (Also I hope Locke is dead it would be Taryn’s one redeeming quality)

- ooooooohhhhhh shit Taryn’s PREGNANT AASHHSJSDKJDKSSKLDSJDJSJ HAHAHHAHAH this is too good oh no

- There’s literally zero chance of this plan of Jude pretending to be Taryn is going to go well. Or even close to well

- “Squeeze hug” awww that’s gonna be in a fic I promise

- This feels like The Parent Trap

- I’m sweating

- ITS CAAAAAAARDAAAAAAAN

- Oh and his tail is out wow good for him

- Fuck a duck I love his tail

- And gold eyeliner, stellar cosmetic choice if I may say so

- Yep I knew it see here she goes off to his chambers he’s gonna find out eeeeekkkkk

- He knowsssssss he been knew of COURSE he been knew how could I be so stupid to think he didn’t know it was Jude this whole time I’m a clown and a fool

- Wow I’m kind of soft right now I love my babies and they clearly love each other but they’re being so ANGSTY AAAAAA

- “Wisdom is for the meek” uhh??? Madoc what are you talking about bud

- Ahhhh see now Jude is getting protective over her throne and crown, she’s blooming into a Queen....good shit for sure

- Also Jude better be the spy she was born to be now that she’s in Madoc’s camp and he thinks she’s Taryn

- Oh, she’s going foraging in the woods? By herself? Yeah, this is gonna go great, Oriana, really

- Yeah def can’t trust Grimsen although I love how Holly Black describes his work and how they’re beautiful but also deadly and cursed

- I’d like to hear more about how he tried to kill Cardan with that ruby earring and failed lol

- tHE GHOST??? What the hell is he doing here???? Am I the only one who just thought homeboy was dead?? Yikes lol

- Ugh Locke was such a Man good thing he’s rotting now

- “You’re scheming” “I’m always scheming” yeah ain’t that the truth bby

- uh oh MOMMY KNOWS heheheheheh

- Well no wonder Cardan turned out like this look at how he was raised, poor boy

- I mean, to be fair, look at Jude while you’re at it

- Oh hey it’s the Roach

- OH HEY ITS CARDAN

- Awwww Vivi went to Cardan because she thought Jude was in trouble and not only did he go to the Roach to go get Jude but he came too !! wow for people who can’t stand each other they make quite the gang

- I love how inconvenienced Cardan seems by Locke’s death but not actually sad lol what a mood

- Breaking into Grimsen’s forge does NOT sound like a good idea no sir

- Ugh king and queen wow

- I cannot WAIT for Madoc to realize the Jude is the High Queen I cannot

- AYYYY MY GIRL GRIMA MOG what did I tell y’all, hmmm?

- Wow Madoc really just stabbed Jude like that and is going to leave her ??? the disrespect

- Ohh my god oh wow her blood is making flowers grow she’s a QUEEN wow look at that, you go bby

- Ah fuck Jude, you got set up by the bumb ass father you have

- ABAHAHAHAHHHAH this isn’t funny but Jude falling from the rafters onto the banquet table is on par with the beauty of Kaz and Wylan falling through the ceiling onto Van Eck’s dining room table heheheh

- @hollyblack can I breathe??? Shit girl

- Cardan said THATS MY WIFE

- Wow Cardan washing Jude’s hands herself??? This boy is in loooove

- Oak and Jude’s maid playing Uno ????? Iconic

- “You’re generally terrifying” oh same Cardan

- So Jude really could have pardoned herself this whole time!!!!!! Come ON sis how didn’t you pick up on that WE picked up on it (don’t worry tho we know you’ve been stressed it’s okay you’re here now)

- And Cardan really expected her to pardon herself I have no words for this boy

- Jude and Cardan’s relationship is so strange but at least it’s healthy now, you know?

- Look at Cardan being vulnerable and Jude not being mean to him for it

- He’s being KIIIIIND WHAATTT

- “This is my room, and that’s my wife” AAHAHAHHAHH

- Cardan touches her hair oh my gooooooood i’m dying send help

- Can y’all tell I’ve been deprived lol

- Hahahahah Jude trashed Lady Asha, as she should

- So I think I like QoN Cardan the most, although I did find Cardan in the first two books terribly entertaining to read about (Srry Jude)

- So Taryn seems to be behaving better than she did in the first two books, kind of being a badass, knowing the Ghost’s true name and all

Cardan likes hearing about slushy machines are you kiDDING ME????

- “Our marriage is an alliance” okay but you sleeping in his shirts isn’t, now, is it? Or how about him petting your hair? Or you thinking he looks cute in gold eyeliner?? lol Jude get real

- Aw I like this Fand/Jude freindship us girls gotta look out for each other

- Grima Mog more like Grima MOM lol

- “Big horns, little dude” LMAO HEATHER STOPP

- I’m enjoying Heather, I have to say

- Finally they kiss it only took TWO HUNDRED PAGES

- oh guys they really like each other im soft

- Casual hand holding? yes

- I can’t believe these are the same idiots who were trying to drown each other in the first book

- look they’re trying to be vulnerable and without armor I’m gonna cry

- I feel quite uneasy about this Queen Suren girl who’s parents have her leashed somehow

- Oh wow fuck Grimsen am I right

- Oh SHIT Cardan really broke the crown like it didn’t mean shit to him...the development...the wisdom

- Cardan really said I want my WIFE and my PEOPLE

- Oh wait fuck fuck fuck oh no stop wait

- Lmao Jude collapsing on the floor is literally me whenever I have to be in charge

- Okay there’s gotta be a way out of this, I didn’t mean it literally when I said Cardan was a snake

- Hey, Jude’s like, smart as shit, no?

- Hahahaha she basically said “Cardan is like, 90% of my impulse control”

- I love how Taryn is hyping Jude up throughout this while shitshow, I love how the two of them have developed past their book one probems

- The Bomb teasing Jude about the dust on her skirts made my day

- Look at Jude really having healthy realtionships with the women around her, I’m so proud of my little murder gir

- Nicassia better come in clutch here, I don’t trust Jarel or Nore not one bit

- Uhhh that story Heather told about the snake that wanted to marry the princess made me howl with laughter and I don’t think it was supposed to

- Vivi got Cardan a snowglobe that says “Congratulations on your promotion” for his coronation gift and he kept did DID EVERYONE HEAR ME I SAID VIVI-

- Oh damn Kaye alright no need for all that

- Ohhhh I had totally forgot about the dress in book one that Jude ordered but received a different one instead... Cardan sent it?? wild

- Okay I hope Jude knows what she’s doing but when has she ever not

- The UNDERSEA HEEEEEELLL YEAH

- Oh look and Cardan!!!!!!! Yeah Jude knew what she was doing that’s my girl

- Awwww look at that hug wow the development these two have been through is unreal I’ll keep saying it

- “I knew little else, but I always knew you” KILL ME

- Oh wow mortals and mingling more with the folk this is good

- Robert of Jersey lmaoooo

- So the Ghost and Taryn ??? Kind of funny but I’m kind of here for it

- I’m literally so close to tears and I’m not kidding they’re having a fucking WEDDING CELEBRATION in the MORTAL WORLD with a banner that says “Congrats Newlyweds” yeah I’m crying now thanks a lot Holly

- Cardan adjusts his paper crown in the microwave reflection so it’s skewed......I don’t think I can react any more I really afjsflsdk

-Wow that was better than anything I could have imagined, hoped for, dreamed of

- The character development, the plot, the resolution, EVERTHING was astounding I’m blown away

This was long as shit If you made it this far, I appreciate you lol. Now go read all three Folk of the Air books again. Go now

#the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #jurdan #holly black

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writing-good-vibes · 2 years

Note

For the Valentine’s Day prompt, could I request 3 and 9 from the steamy category (black silk and candle wax) for Wormtongue (my cursed crush)?

They can be separate or in one thing whatever you like! Thank you so much, love your work 🥰

grima !! he is a cursed crush, but y'all made me feel way less weird about it. turns out we're all secretly into him i guess and i'm willing to take one for the team to provide 😂. thank you so much for requesting and for being so lovely !! 💖 warning for smut.

Grima could be kind, sometimes.

With a sly smile he handed you a parcel wrapped in a woolen shroud. "For you."

You look at him quizzically. Normally he isn't so pointed with his gift giving. Usually his gifts are given rather backhandedly, under the guise of charity.

This time, it feels different though. The shroud it's wrapped on feels like a gift itself and he's looking at you, watching for your reaction with a gleam in his eye.

"Really?" you ask, barely believing it.

He nods, a certain air of smugness still filling him, lifting his posture in anticipation.

With a smile that you hope doesn't betray how much this is effecting you, you unwrap your gift.

Beneath the wool lies silk, black as night. You let the shroud drop onto Grima's desk, and the silk spills between your fingers. A long black gown, flutters before you where you hold it by the shoulders.

"Grima," you start, but trail off, still in awe of the beautiful garment.

"Do you like it?"

"My Lord," you never use such formalities in times like these, but the teasing lilt of your voice betrays your intentions, "I love it."

"Mightn't I see you in it, my lady."

You bite your lip and turn your back -- though it won't hide anything he hasn't seen a thousand times over -- peeling of your day dress, the one you wear to scour floors and scrub laundry.

The new dress fits like a glove, draping over you in waves and you smile, childishly feeling the softness beneath your finger tips.

When you turn back around, Grima is watching intently from his desk, lounged in his chair. He's more relaxed than you believe you've ever seen him, even after all the times you've fallen asleep beside him.

No, now he seems confident, arrogant almost, with legs spread languidly and his narrow hips tilted slightly.

"My, my," he says, admiring the form you cut in the flickering candle light.

"Do you like it?" you repeat his earlier question to you.

"I do, most ardently."

...

If you didn't know any better, you might think he gifted you this gown simply to have the pleasure of removing it.

Lay in his bed with his hands dancing over you, linger where you want them but never for long enough, you can barely think straight.

The dress is up over your waist and the bodice with its intricate laces, is open, revealing your soft skin to the candle light.

Your eyes are closed and you don't notice the heat of the candle get closer and closer, you're already too hot as it is with Grima's breath tickling your neck.

The first drop of wax is a surprise. One single drop on your collarbone and you hiss at the sting before it sets into a bead on your skin.

"Grima?" you ask, catching his thin wrist before another drop of wax can fall.

"Tell me to stop and I will," he says, pressing a kiss beneath your ear.

"You promise?"

"You have my word, and when have I ever, ever lied to you?"

You think. Grima is full of lies, the spill out of him like blood from a wound but you can't recall a time he's ever lied to you.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and scolding him, you nod, watching as Grima's icy eyes read your expression.

He seems satisfied and before you can think of anything else, a thin line of wax drips down your chest, between your breasts. The sting hurts, but Grima's other hand is working wonders on you, slick as they are with your wetness.

You let out a heavy sigh, trying to reconcile all of the sensations scattered across your body in that moment. The bite of the wax versus the soft solace of the silk that pools beneath you.

Another line of wax crosses your chest, almost from one nipple to the other. A cross now marks your chest and you tangle a hand in Grima's hair.

His hand holds the candle steady, away from your body as he leans down to kiss your untouched nipple. It makes you shiver and he catches it properly in his mouth, tongue rolling over it as his other hand -- his thumb -- moves in tandem, repeating the motions onto your clit.

"Grima, please," you aren;t even sure what your asking for, and you don't really want this, any of this, to end but you need something. And Grima has always been good at reading you.

He pulls away, leaving you floundering in deprivation as he sets the candle aside before helping you out of the dress, which he carefully deposits on the chair closest to the bed. Even in the heat of the moment he knows better than to spoil this dress, your finest possession.

Before you know it, he's over you again, spreading your legs beneath him and pressing, hot and slow inside. Giving and taking in equal parts.

#grima wormtongue x reader #grima wormtongue #ahhh grima #my wretched #i love him #thank you so much for requesting !!#this isnt really like anything i've written before so i really wanted to do a good job !!#also not to toot my own horn but i just loved the idea of this dress being the total opposite of eowyn #she is the White Lady of Rohan #in gleaming white #while you get a midnight black gown and oof #idk grima doesnt deserves it but he is my poor little meow meow so he gets it anyway #also obligatory psa.. practice all kinks safely ✌

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thecloserkin · 4 years

Text

fell down an éomer/éowyn rabbithole, 100% @spookyshai’s fault, have a grab bag of recs

I rewatched The Two Towers and it’s clear to me Karl Urban has chemistry with everyone up to and including lampposts. Just a reminder everyone make sure you watch the extended cut not the theatrical cut, it’s worth it just for Éowyn’s face when she finds out Aragorn is 87 years old.

I am a slut for angst but even so these fics hurt me. The “darkest before the dawn” vibe is strong with this pairing, half the fic is them fucking before he rides off to patrol, and they’ve got that unhealthily-codepdenedent-orphan-children angle going for them too.

Care by Halrloprillalar (1k)— literally the platonic ideal of a bedsharing fic, @spookyshai calls the prose “disgustingly beautiful” and i could not agree more: “Éomer learned her body, intent upon each curve, as though he were a skald and Éowyn a verse that he was making.”

Hope by elceri (1.2k)—whatever you think of the one-sidedness of Éowyn’s attraction to Aragorn that chemistry was through the fucking roof (there was zero chemistry with Faramir). i loved how this fic drew on the parallels between Éowyn and Aragorn’s plights: they are both profoundly lonely people looking over the horizon for their beloved’s return (Éomer, Arwen—well Aragorn has mixed feelings about Arwen returning since it would mean she chose mortality but ykwim). Y’all know by now that the seamless progression of platonic affection to romantic attachment is my kryptonite, so this is the line that gutted me: “the soft kisses and caresses that had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember and the heated lovemaking that had come with age. She could not fathom a life without him, for as long as she had known life, there had been him. Only him. Only Éomer.” And headcanoning Théodred as gay so he promised to marry Éowyn as a beard and then her and Éomer could continue as they were??? i swear my soul ascended on the spot

My Own by Rainchilde (2.7k, warning for noncon)—one of the most shippable aspects of their relationship has always been Grima Wormtongue lurking in the shadows, because you have on the one hand A STALKER and otoh the person whom she trusts and values most in the world. the contrast is plain. i’m all for scenarios where the stalker’s unwanted attentions drive the girl into her brother’s arms (see Dante’s Stars) but this fic actually examines what Éomer has in common with Grima, viz. he wants to make Éowyn his yet she is just as unattainable to him as to Grima

Made Bare by Dana (0.4k)—I am always here for horny swordplay: “He licks his lips, watching her, parted lips and parted legs, and the pounding of his heart is a dull roar in his ears.”

Steadfast by hesychasm (3.3k) — they get it on in the stables asdfdfkdjfdkf it’s extra sexy bc of their shared history, they’re children of Rohan they were practically born in the saddle and it’s just. so hot. This is the eve of her official engagement to Faramir and Éomer has left the banquet hall early for Reasons; we get nuggets of internal monologue from him like: “I judged the mare a good enough gift for my sister, though Gondor-bred.” The subtext being no man or beast in all of Gondor is good enough for Éowyn lmaooo. "Can I not love you both?” she protests, and he says, ”I do not believe even your heart is so great." Ouch ouch ouch. On the subject of her husband-to-be: “He knows already who is first in my heart."

Blood Remembers by musesfool (2.4k) — So many shared memories, moments, milestones! For instance, it’s she who comforts him after he has to give a comrade the mercy stroke. Losing their virginity to each other is such a logical extension & culmination of all that history: “’I dreamt you were dead,’ she whispered … She ran her fingers over the arch of his cheek, the bow of his lips, and followed her hand with her mouth … His hands touched her in places no man had ever touched before. His lips sought hers and the gentle good night kisses they'd shared over the years transmuted into something harder, darker, more urgent.” AND THEN: “The years have passed swiftly since that night, and no other man has yet stirred her blood to such passion. She believes none ever will, and is reconciled to a life alone.” KILL ME NOW GAHHH

Dirt and Gold by Empyreus (1k)—outsider POV Gríma, i’m pretty sure this fic was written specifically FOR ME jesus fucking christ so Éomer and Éowyn are lowkey banging and Gríma apparently lingers at keyholes to listen???: “‘You reek of him, of your brother the wild rider,’ he had wanted to say. "I can feel the sweat that surely slicked your skin.’” Also this: "Is there anything you will deny him? For all your ice, you too burn when the heat is too fierce. When your brother tells you to burn."

Hammer and Tongs by Halrloprillalar (1.6k) —she forges him a blade!!! which is only the most romantic gesture of all time. i’m LIVING for the amount of sneaking around that happens: “All know the Lady of Rohan has a great love for her brother …They do not know that she goes to him at night, walking the halls without a candle, carrying a posset for him, lest she need an excuse.”

In My Darkest Hour by elceri (3k)—Plottier than some of the pornier fics I’ve rounded up here but this conversation is EVERYTHING: “Éomer! The last thing Rohan needs at this time is a martyr!" "I would rather be a martyr than a hypocrite … It will not come to that, my sister, I promise you. My willingness to make the sacrifice does not mean I invite it, or would accept it willingly." "So said Theodred.” ”I am not Theodred." “Then why do you come to me? To prophesy your own death? I am not accustomed to such ominous words from you, brother." "I come to you for strength, Éowyn … Dark have been my days and nights, and dark will they be, and you have been my only light. If I am never to see you again, by that villain's hand, then I want to carry some of that light with me to whatever end may come."

Survivors by CanonIsRelative (1k)—omg they are having messy quickies in the stables??? Éomer and Éowyn have evidently been practicing the pull-out method of contraception up until this one time on the eve of battle and then they’re like fuck it. This is Éowyn’s Return to me victorious: “I await you, my lord, and a year shall I endure for every day that passes until your return. Come back with your helm upon your brow, or resting in state upon your breast.”

Swordplay by elceri (1k)—outsider POV, Théoden and Gríma watch the boys show Éowyn the ropes down in the practice yard: ”She has her brother's talent with the sword—see how quickly she learns!" "If your words are true, Sire, then when she is twenty you will have two strong-willed, hot-headed warriors in your house, aided and abetted by an older cousin who seems to think that life is indeed one long game!"

#desperately wish i could read german so i could devour this 63K FIC CHILLIN HERE IN THE TAG #eowyn x eomer #Eomer x Eowyn #fic rec #fic roundup

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writinginstardust · 5 years

Text

Movie Night

Pairing: contains Tyler x Finian, Kal x Auri, and Scarlett x Cat x Zila

Request: @blossomtheterror asked “ Aurora rising - the squad has a LoTR marathon and Kal finally learns who Legolas is. ”

Warnings: a couple of bits of suggestive conversation, I think someone might swear? big-ass spider and mentions of fictional violence

A/N: Does what it says on the tin, the squad have a movie night. god i really loved writing this one and it gave me an excuse to rewatch lotr as well. it’s more of a general thing with just like a few moments of ship related content and I really need to do more of this casual found family bonding stuff because it’s great!

Word Count: 1944

"So you're telling me none of you have watched Lord of the Rings?" Auri was horrified.

"Tyler and I have," Scarlett offered. "I don't remember much of it though."

"This is unacceptable. We're watching them all tonight, I can't be around people who haven't seen them for another day."

"Technically tonight we're meant to…" Auri's hard look cut off whatever Tyler was going to say. "...We can reschedule I guess."

"Good. Kal and I will go find snacks and meet you in the common room at 5."

"So early?" Kal asked.

"We've got 9 hours of movie to get through so yes."

"Alright, see you guys in a couple of hours."

At exactly 5 the squad converged on the common room. Scarlett arrived early and managed to nab the big screen with the comfiest couches, quite possibly through a little persuasion if the awestruck look on the faces of a group of guys across the room was anything to go by. She grinned as everyone filed in and got comfortable, Cat coming to sit on one side of her and grumpily leaning her head on Scarlett’s shoulder.

Kal and Auri claimed the second couch, curling up together only slightly uncomfortably. It was still new to them and they weren’t sure how to navigate everything but they were cute. Everyone thought so. That left Tyler and Fin with the pile of pillows and blankets dumped on the floor in front of Scarlett’s couch. The boys pouted at Scarlett but she wouldn’t be swayed and eventually they flopped down onto the floor. Scarlett prodded her brother’s head with a foot and giggled when he swatted it away, grumbling under his breath.

The lights dimmed and sound blared, causing them all to wince as Zila frantically turned down the volume and offered a quick apology before crossing the space to curl up on the couch, half in Scarlett’s lap. She stole a blanket on her way over to the protests of the boys on the floor. Scarlett quickly silenced them both with light kicks and a glare when they turned around, her face softening when Zila finally settled against her and Cat curled in closer to fit under the blanket as well. Tyler rolled his eyes but didn’t complain further and settled down with Finian tucked under his arm.

With everyone finally settled comfortably, Zila pressed play and Auri shushed everyone loudly as the first whispers of Cate Blanchet’s ethereal voice started. She didn’t even follow her own command though and eagerly narrated and explained everything to Kal in excited whispers. No one really had it in them to complain though. That or they worried Kal might rip out their tongues if they said a word against her.

Kal barely even watched the film, far too entranced by Auri, the passion in her voice, the glint in her eyes. He got the gist of it from her rambling anyway. Auri pointed frantically after about an hour and a half and Kal finally forced his eyes away from her and towards the screen in time to see a tall man with long, blond hair and pointed ears appear.

“That’s Legolas!” She proclaimed gleefully and Kal had to admit after a while of watching him, he could see why Aurora had made a link between them.

“You never told us you were an actor, Kal,” Finian said in mock offence.

“I can’t believe I’ve kissed a celebrity!” Tyler pretended to swoon and Kal felt his ears redden at the reminder of that time in the server room.

“What!?” Everyone’s attention turned from the movie to the boys and Finian scowled at his boyfriend.

“You kissed Kal!?”

“Fin-” Tyler suddenly regretted dropping that on them all in that manner.

“And you didn’t invite me!? Maker, you think you know a guy...”

“Wait,” Scarlett piped up. “When did this happen?” She shoved him with her foot. “And why didn’t you tell me!?”

“On the Worldship. A tech was about to catch us in the server room and it was the first thing I could think of to stop our cover being blown.”

“I can assure you,” Kal looked between Auri and Fin to try and reassure them, “it meant nothing.”

Tyler gasped. “But baaabe,” he said, just managing to maintain a hurt pout through the bubble of laughter that threatened to escape him.

“So if I invited you-”

“Do not finish that question,” Tyler, Kal, and Auri all practically yelled in sync.

“Alright, fiiine. I guess I’ll just stick with Tyler.” Said boy pretended to look hurt but he knew better than to take what Fin said seriously. The devilish Batraskan grin aimed his way and the quick kiss he received only confirmed it.

“Okay, can you all shut up and watch the movie now?” Cat grumbled, the sound less threatening and quieter than normal with her face pressed into the crook of Scarlett’s neck. Still, they did as asked and focused back on the movie.

‘You have my sword. And my bow. And my axe.’

“And my freaky mind powers,” Auri continued with a grin

“And my wrench.”

“And my awesome pilot skills.”

“And my disruptor pistol,” Zila added, quite to the surprise of everyone.

“And my leadership skills.”

“And my powers of persuasion.”

“And his...well...him,” Auri said, gesturing to Kal. Everyone was starting to really get into the film and she was ecstatic. They all broke down laughing at their own ridiculousness and missed the Fellowship head off. Half an hour later there was yelling and popcorn was thrown at the screen.

“They did not just kill off Gandalf!” Cat exclaimed, royally pissed off and enjoying the film far more than she’d planned to. Maybe she was a bit more inclined to give the film a chance than usual since Scarlett seemed to be enjoying it so much. Scratch that, she was absolutely more inclined to give the film a chance because of that. Although, she knew she’d enjoy it anyway but it’s not like she could admit that to the others. Anyway she was not happy that the old wizard was gone now. Auri had to bite her tongue to avoid ruining anything for her and the others.

The film finally ended and everyone was mildly shocked. They had no idea Boromir was going to die. Auri and Fin were the only ones seemingly unaffected.

“You know, if I was trying to protect a bunch of Hobbits, I would simply not get shot in the chest three times. RIP to Boromir but I’m different.” Auri could barely contain her giggles as the rest of the squad scowled at Fin and Tyler shoved him gently. His death was too fresh for them it would seem.

“Alright get the next one on,” Cat demanded, unwilling to move and do it herself. Zila slipped off Scarlett’s lap instead and sorted out the next film. Disgust was voiced when Grima was introduced. Cheers erupted when Gandalf finally returned. And the squad discovered both the Jones twins had a knack for impersonating Gollum. Fin most definitely did not appreciate this particular talent, especially when, without warning, Tyler whispered an eerily accurate my precious directly in his ear. He nearly jumped out of his skin, fortunately managing to hold back a scream which at least slightly lessened his embarrassment.

“You’re going to pay for that golden boy.” He glared down at Tyler who was clutching his stomach while his body shook with laughter. Something disgustingly soft formed in Finian’s chest at the sight of Tyler so carefree and relaxed though.

“Worth it,” he wheezed. He managed to calm himself enough to grab Fin’s hand and tug him back down into his arms, still giggling softly into the older boy’s hair.

“You won’t be so pleased about that later,” Fin grumbled and Scarlett couldn’t help laughing.

“Looks like someone’s not getting any tonight. Bad luck baby brother.”

“Will you all shut up? I’m trying to watch sentient trees kick ass,” Cat complained.

“They’re called Ents,” Auri corrected absentmindedly but Cat just waved her hand dismissively.

By the end of The Two Towers Zila had fallen asleep in Scarlett’s arms and the rest of them were on the way to it. Auri crawled out of her comfortable spot curled into Kal’s side and put the last movie on.

Too tired now, the squad kept the comments to a minimum this time. Auri and - surprisingly - Cat shuddered when Gollum led the hobbits into Shelob’s lair and Cat actually hid her face in Scarlett’s shoulder. A comment about that was on the tip of several tongues but they all thought better of it. Cat would certainly kill them if they dared mention it.

Despite enjoying the film, probably more than everyone except Auri, Cat fell asleep soon after Sam escaped from the Orcs with Frodo and then Scarlett’s attention was no longer on the film. Technically she’d seen it anyway so it didn’t matter. She’d much rather enjoy the rare quiet contentment from a sleeping Cat and Zila than watch a movie. About 20 minutes later, she too fell asleep.

“Wait. There’s ghosts in this?” Kal questioned when Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas met the army of the dead.

“Yep,” Auri said through a yawn. “It’s long and complicated but they’ll explain in a minute.”

“But ghosts…”

“Shut up Legolas,” she groaned lovingly. “Just wait. They’re very useful.” She fell asleep before their use could be revealed though and Kal cared more about gazing lovingly at her than the movie. No one made it to the end. Tyler and Kal got close but in the dark and the quiet even they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer.

In the morning, groggy and awoken by other Legionnaires coming in, Auri insisted they rewatch the end. Tears were shed. Even Cat and Finian were caught crying silently by the Jones twins.

“So, did you like it?” Auri asked when the screen finally faded to black. They all did.

“It was very enjoyable,” Kal admitted. “I...can understand why you call me Legolas now.”

“Do I get to keep doing it?”

“I think you would with or without my permission,” Kal smirked as Auri conceded that she probably would. “But I do not mind the nickname.”

“Good.” She kissed his cheek before taking his hand and standing up. “Now take me to breakfast, Legolas.”

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“Almost definitely.” And then she dragged him from the room. Zila and Cat tugged Scarlett up as well and followed them out.

“You want breakfast?” Tyler asked Fin who was still laying on him.

“Depends. Are you on the menu.” He said it around a yawn and there was little of his usual teasing in it. Tyler just laughed. He leaned in closer and whispered in Fin’s ear with his best gollum impersonation again.

“Anything for you, my precious.” Fin lept up with a screech and Tyler was losing it again.

“I told you not to do that again.”

“Your face,” Tyler wheezed. “It’s still worth it.”

“You’re sleeping on your own tonight,” Finian grumbled.

“Oh come on.” Tyler stood and wrapped his arm around his boyfriend as they both left to catch up with the rest of the squad. He pulled out the smeagol voice he was also rather proud of. “It’s just a bit of fun, precious.”

Finian jabbed an elbow into his side. “I should never have let Auri talk us into watching that. She’s created a monster.”

“Don’t be mad, precious.”

“No. No. No. No. No.” Finian squirmed out of Tyler’s grasp and ran, Tyler’s laughter following him all the way down the hall.

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ad-astraaaa

Aurora Cycle: @aurising

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