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maxipad031 · 1 year

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i want you (18+)

synopsis: you’re an arising model with a crush on the queen of wakanda that has finally manifested itself, and you catch her attention at the royal ball where the most important people attend. you, being from the river tribe happen to be born into one of those important families and you finally let shuri know how much you’ve been craving her, unaware she’s felt the same for maybe even longer than you have…

ubusuku obuhle - good evening, sthandwa - my love

contains: smut, shuri x black female reader, fingering, grinding, cunnilingus <3

picture on right for dress reference, song recommended below, lower case intended, enjoy x

finally, here you were, at 5pm, in your baba’s beautiful vibranium enriched vehicle, taking you from the river tribe city to the most important ceremony of the season. of course, you couldn’t hold your excitement as you saw the vast golden gates open at your arrival, signifying that you were in the golden tribe territory, which was a feeling you couldn’t get over. meanwhile, your mum and dad rambled on in the front about the tragedy that was the recent death of queen ramonda. “she was the best queen we ever had, wakanda will greatly suffer from this.” your dad uttered, before turning the wheel swiftly to the right as he drove down to the semi-full parking space. the whole country tilted sideways after the news and you couldn’t help but think about how the princess- no, queen shuri was feeling after also having lost her brother to an unknown disease.

“y/n darling, you can come out now.” your mum announced joyously, as she packed her handbag. you didn’t even realise the car had stopped as you were so deep in your daydreaming,

“yes mother.” you said hurriedly, as you undid ur seatbelt, carried your purse and opened the car door, closing it securely behind you. it took you three months to plan what you were going to wear for this day but it wasn’t even that amazing. you wore a blue dress that had cuts on the side which exposed some of your midriff as well as your back. moreover, it was sleeveless and exposed your upper torso, showing off your clean cut collarbones that fit your bone structure nicely. a large aureate necklace made from pure vibranium hung down your neck, complimenting your outfit in all its glory. you also wore some expensive golden heels that made you just a slight bit taller, but not too much. earlier, you had gone for a long hair appointment where they straightened your puffy 4c hair but also curled it, so it was like a 90s girls style which perfectly suited your facial features; it was no surprise as to why you appeared in many front pages of wakanda magazines, you were perfect model material.

“my daughter is so beautiful, you’ll definitely have all the men after you.” your mum complimented as she nudged your side, smiling from ear to ear as she looked and examined your stunning outfit.

“ah, that’s a stretch ma..” you smiled, rubbing your arm nervously. she never failed to make you feel good about yourself which is one of the reasons why she was one of your best friends.

“come on, oya chuku let’s go inside!” she excitedly says, calling my dad as he finally leaves the car. there aren’t much people outside which is understandable because it’s quite cold and the ball started an hour ago which means you were a bit late.

The three of you hurriedly went inside, bouncers at the door stop carefully scammed your invitation and once it was received as valid, the doors they guarded opened, revealing a literal paradise. the place was huge and you knew nothing but hard work went into building it. images on the walls explained their magical stories and exquisite artwork displayd themselves proudly. people dressed in wakandan attire bustled about, taking in their share of the surreal scenery. afrobeats blared in your ears from all directions, but the beats were so catchy and dance worthy, you couldn’t help but move your hips a little. you were so busy in your own world that you didn’t see your parents go off without you to talk to the elders. there wasn’t a lot of people there but it was enough to give you anxiety as you saw people eyeing you with looks of envy but also somewhat admiration? you were quite well known due to your popularity in the modeling industry but honestly you didn’t care, you just wanted to see…her.

the dora milajae stood around the room in a neat unified order, with their tall spears in hand, ready to handle any disruptions. their presence was formidable and reassured everyone’s safety; wakandan military was no joke at all. carefully, you roamed around the vicinity, finding the next best interesting thing. there were bars with any drink you could possibly think off as well as the lovely aroma of sweet bread and the notorious jollof rice. you weren’t hungry as you’d previously had some takeaway but you were killing for a drink, an alcoholic drink. your parents never let you drink any sort of alcoholic beverage as they strongly believed it was “bad for your soul”. obviously, they were superstitious as hell but you turned 20 two months ago and you’ve never drank before; you needed to have your share of fun right? with full confidence, you began your indirect journey to the bar ahead as you weaved in and out of people. before you could get there though, the loud sound of spears hitting the ground caused your body to jolt in shock as your eyes darted around the room in panic as to what was going on.

“haha, you’re as nimble as ever.” a familiar voice says out of nowhere from your left.

“kaya?” you questioned as you turned around, seeing your best friend walking up to you quite excitedly.

“yes bitch it’s me!” kaya squealed, hugging you tightly, “but we have to listen i think the queen is coming out now.” she said quietly after standing by your side as she pointed at the empty performance stage. you were happy about her arrival because at least you weren’t alone but upon hearing that, your heart started to race with anticipation as everyone in the ball room went hushed.

you felt your heart begin to swell as you waited; you don’t know why she made you feel such butterflies, but it was undeniably there, nestling within your chest.

all of a sudden, a cascade of claps roared up and you watched carefully as the queen of wakanda walked with confidence to the middle of the stage. you’re pretty sure your jaw physically dropped as soon as you saw her but you quickly put yourself together, looking around to make sure no one saw. queen shuri wore a black suit with crystal embezzles on the sides joining together at the back, as well as silver rings that perfectly snuggled around her slender fingers. she had recently shaved off her hair, leaving her with a buzz cut which did nothing but make her even more attractive for no reason. she wore black heels that perfectly complimented the outfit and made her even taller than she already was. she stood in the centre of stage, taking in the crowd of people below her as if she was mentally preparing what she was about to say.

“damn, she’s handsome as shit, right y/n.” kaya muttered shamelessly, looking at you for a reaction. you’d told her first about your infatuation with shuri and she wasn’t even the slightest bit surprise. she was a living embodiment of your type and kaya did believe you could actually pull it off. you turned to her, beaming widely as you nodded profusely to her comment. you looked back up at shuri and you swore you caught her looking at you but it was just for a split second before she cleared her throat and started to speak to her guests.

“ubusuku obuhle, thank you everyone for coming tonight,” she greeted, her accent thick with the dialect of wakanda, “as you all know i’ve been bethroned with the title of queen and i can assure you that i am determined to fulfill that duty as much as i can. wakanda is one of the most powerful nations in the world that my mother gave everything to and even though it’s almost impossible to walk in her noble footsteps, i want to be able to give my people all i can provide and make wakanda a better place for everybody.”

everyone in the crowd was solemn with the reminder of the queen ramonda, but nodded in agreement to shuri’s speech. they held nothing but trust for her and knew that she’d lead wakanda in the right direction.

you loved the way she spoke, with such intellect and passion that always managed to diffuse its way to everyone she talks to. her voice was almost like a lullaby that you’d sleep to but her words held such weight that never failed to impact you. although right now, everything she was saying was coming in one end and out the other as you stared longingly at her satisfying face, wishing to just smother it with kisses you know?

soon, she was done speaking and it had finished with the sea of claps again, even whistling making its way through the noise. she’d disappeared back behind the black curtains once again but you wish she’s come back and just blabber a little bit more so you could hear her sweet voice infest you ears. you mentally scolded your mind to stop having weird thoughts but it never really stopped. missing her already, you sighed and turned to kaya who was already waving at somebody she knew like the social butterfly she is.

“hey y/n, i’m going to go talk to him for a second, i’ll be back don’t worry!” kaya said, walking to a guy from the jibari tribe that she definitely liked.

“okay, don’t get pregnant, abeg.” you pleaded with fake concern. she laughed and flipped you off as she walked away. you internally smiled at her rather vulgar action but scoped your surroundings once again.

“oh yeah, my drink!” you remembered, throat parched even more as shuri took away all the last moisture left. you walked slowly, careful to not fall down in your heels and embarrass yourself. finally, you got there but were surrounding by people gisting and gossiping about god knows what. you catch the attention of the bartender, letting him now what you want.

“hey, may i have a dry martini?” you asked, remembering kaya had once told you to try it out other than the fact you have no knowledge of any alcoholic drinks.

“sure m’aam, do you have id?” he asked, waiting patiently for a reply.

you stopped, “uh…let me check.” fuck.

you hated situations like this. you faked checking inside your purse, knowing damn well your id was sitting on your dresser at home right now.

“fun fact, i actually left it at home, i’m 20 though.” you said, dropping your bag in a huff and hoping that would slide.

“no, i’m sorry you look younger, i need id.” he insisted, tapping his hand on the bar as other people behind you waited o order a drink too.

“shit, okay whatever never mind, it’s okay.” you said, waving your hand in dismissal as you exited the line. you didn’t know whether to take what he said as a compliment or an insult. bummed, you were about to walk away until you felt two hands grip your shoulders, pulling you back into your original position. annoyed, you look up to who had the audacity to touch you right now, when you were met with the last person you expected to see at this moment.

queen shuri?!?

your face immediately softened from the angry expression as she looked at you warmly with a bright smile, as if she’d known you for decades. your soul exited your body and buried itself out onto another planet as you couldn’t believe what you were seeing. surprised was an underestimate, you were bewildered, shocked, perplexed, all the above. you didn’t even have time to react as she shifted to talk to the bartender.

“put the dry martini on me, she’s actually my close friend and i can confirm she is of age, but thank you for taking your job seriously.” she bowed her head slightly as a sign of respect and the guy reciprocated.

“of course my queen, i’m sorry.” he apologized, heading to the back to whisk up the drink for you.

yes, your mouth was physically agape this time but the burning sensation of her hands still on your shoulders made your mind wonder into places you didn’t know it could. you side eyed her and slowly turned so your faces met once again before you looked away like a timide hamster.

“hello to you too.” she said with that raspy voice laced with her wakandan dialect. her hands finally left your shoulders and she turned her body to face you. you didn’t mean to be disrespectful or anything but you literally couldn’t formulate words right now, all your communication skills evaporated; you just stared at her.

she let out a little laugh, “ah, most people bow to me like 50 times but i guess you just like to stare.” she said jokingly, as she looked down at you from her overbearing height. as if clapped out of a trance, you stood straight and tilted your head forewards, “queen shuri, sorry for my manners.” you were trying your hardest to conceal your panic but it was probably quite obvious to shuri.

“no need for that, just call me shuri, it’s okay.” she said reassuringly, turning around to look at the landscape of the busy ball. people stared in awe at her and her aura was so powerful you could almost feel it; you couldn’t help but feel so inferior being this close next to her.

“what do you think, is it nice?” she asked, looking at you intently for an answer.

you gathered courage to look up at her but it immediately shriveled up as you met her hooded brown orbs, full of so much sincerity it was unreal.

“i think it’s beautiful, you did an amazing job which is obviously no surprise.” you replied, slowly gaining your confidence back.

“haha, you flatter me y/n.”

…what

how did she know your name? you stared up at her in confusion as you heard your name emitted from her loud and clear. she shifted her gaze to you, seeing your surprised expression, “you forget you’re kind of famous in wakanda right, you're on almost every magazine i see.” shuri explained with a smirk.

ah..

“yes, oh yes you’re right, i often forget that im perceived by other people.” you nervously chuckle, looking everywhere but her.

“you look amazing in them though, you could go global to be honest, your visuals are unreal.” she uttered in a quite sensual manner, turning her body to face you once again with her elbow propped against the bar; rizz overload. you could feel her eyes on you, maybe checking you out, but you couldn’t be too sure because you certainly weren’t looking up at her.

“that’s too large of a compliment, i doubt it.” you say, hands getting clammy as you fiddled with your bracelets trying your best not to freak the fuck out.

what do you do when the queen of fucking wakanda basically calls you hot?

yeah, i thought so.

"i could talk to your agents, work something out." she suggested, adjusting her suit like she wants to attract girls.

shit, fuck she was so sexy.

you coughed, trying to escape the thoughts swirling around ur head, “oh wow, that would be amazing my queen.” you smirked and bowed again almost teasing her.

“i told you to not do that.” she reprimanded and with a swift motion, she took your hand in hers, her soft palms enveloped with yours as she pulled you closer with her infamous smirk. her other hand snaked to the side of your waist and her face came close to your ear, her breath tickling the outside of it ever so slightly. you felt like you were about to explode, the pure charm this woman possessed was inhumane. however, your moment was interrupted by the cough behind you both, signifying your drink was ready; you lowkey forgot about it.

“oh, right thank you very much.” you quickly turned around quite embarrassed and formally bowed at the bartender as you took your dry martini, taking a careful sip.

shuri nodded at the man and turned her attention back to you, she watched as your face twisted in disgust as you swallowed some of the drink. it felt like hot iron just went down your throat and you don’t think you could ever get used to that. she couldn’t help but chuckle at your priceless expression.

“yeah, i can tell you don’t drink.” she commented, as you both walked along to the side to make space for others.

“yeah, this shit is nasty.” you said, swirling the drink in your hand, repulsed by the taste that was on your tongue a moment ago. yeah, you’re not drinking the rest of that so you stuck your hand out to try and give it to shuri.

“for me? aw, how nice but i don’t drink either thank you.” she cooed, kindly rejecting the poor dry martini as well.

damn, you two were more alike than you thought, i mean you never thought you’d get such a rare chance to be sharing a conversation with shuri to discover that but i guess you caught her attention.

she still took the glass from you and set it down upon a nearby table, holding eye contact with you the whole time.

the music was getting louder, the tension between the both of you thicker, you’re attraction to her growing as the seconds ticked away. as if she read your mind she asked, “do you want to leave, go somewhere more quiet?” her eyes bore into your soul as she stuck her hand out as an invitation for you to take it; what a gentlewoman.

you smiled, turning your head as you grew nervous but you ultimately accepted her hand and with that, the familiar feeling of her warm hands met yours and she led you both through the crowd. you had no idea where you were going but all you knew is that you were going to be alone with shuri, one on one, just you and her. peoples heads’ turned, eyes looked with curiosity since shuri was always the centre of attention so it was no surprise all eyes were on her. however, your social anxiety was going off the charts and you lowered your head in embarrassment. yes, you were used to it but not at the same time, you couldn’t explain it. there was a clear circle around you both as no one dared to interrupt the queen. curious as to where you were going, you looked up and saw kaya staring at you both wide eyed with a look of disbelief splattered across her face.

you mirrored her expression back and her face twisted into a smile, she mouthed, “you go girl!” as she lifted her fists in encouragement. you mouthed back, “thank you.” and waved goodbye at her as you continued to follow shuri who now had a tight grip on your hand as if letting go would cause something bad to happen. finally, she’d taken you behind the black curtain that she’d previously appeared from which hid the behind the scenes preparation for the ball. decorations hung loosely, tech people working on the lighting, some of the dora milaje guarding the rooms of the royal family. they saw you both but paid no attention as it wasn’t their business to know what the queen was up to, “here.” shuri’s voice was deeper as she pointed at a big noir coloured door infront of her. still holding your hand, she pushed it open with the other hand. the outer section lit up a bright purple as it recognized her handprints and let her in with ease. the technology in wakanda was insane and you knew it was due to shuri’s big brain power. the door opened to reveal a large room, quite modest in its aesthetic, large mirrors circled around the room, as it mimicked that of a walk in wardrobe. there was a long black couch situated in the corner where shuri led you to. her hand finally left yours as she sat down, moving some clothes to make some space for you.“i’m guessing this is your dressing room or something.” you said, still looking at each aspect of the place.

“mm, something like that.” shuri replied, shifting closer to you. you could tell she was feeling you right now but oh boy how she didn’t know how bad you wanted her to touch you all over-

“i’m gonna cut straight to the chase, i find you really attractive, and i anticipated your visit to the ball this evening.” shuri confessed, licking her two-toned lips flirtatiously as she said that. her voice remained deeper than before as she stared at you intensely for a reply. you were still shocked from the moment you met her but this was an opportunity of a lifetime and you weren’t going to waste it with your shy self.

“i’ll be so honest, i feel the same, i’ve wanted you ever since i saw.” you also confessed, mentally cringing at your words after you said them, but who cares, it was too late and she’d already heard them.

shuri didn’t reply to you, but a sly grin creeped upon her face as her piercing eyes averted from your face to your lap as her left hand moved to settle upon your exposed thigh from the slit in the dress, rubbing the smooth chocolate colored skin underneath. she looked back at you and she’s fixated on your glossy lips as her want for you grew uncontrollably.

yeah that’ll do it.

all the shyness in your body disappeared as you swiftly grabbed her face and looked at her lips as you hungrily joined them with yours. shuri deepened the kiss with equal needs as her hands desperately moved to touch what she can. you felt them carefully snake down to your ass and lightly squeeze it, which caused you to moan into her mouth. shuri used that as an opportunity to slip her tongue inside your mouth and you eagerly welcomed it as you moved closer to slightly grind yourself on her. the kiss went from soft and passionate to hungry and lustful as every touch felt like a spark of electricity coursing through your body, making you more horny than you already were; you could feel shuri smirking into the kiss as she knew how badly you wanted her. impatient as fuck, you arms laced themselves around shuri’s neck as her hands met your waist, pulling you closer as your fervent kiss was beginning to get more intense. shuri’s breath quietly hitched as you bit her lip, dragging your tongue over it slowly to soothe the pain it must’ve caused. with her superhuman black panther strength, shuri lifted you onto her lap where you accidentally broke the kiss due to your surprise.

you didn’t realise how much you needed air until you stopped kissing her but you just couldn’t get enough, if felt so fucking good.

“shit shuri, i want you so bad right now.” you whisper, against her now swollen lips, grinding your flexible hips down onto her lap as her large hands guided your movements. your hair stuck to your face that was being invaded with sweat as your body temperature increased. your cheeks had their fair share of melanin but they visibly blushed slightly red.

“mm, shh baby girl, let me make you feel good.” she lustfully whispered back, pulling your necklace and locking your lips together again. you were addicted to this feeling, like being high, but the drug was shuri. your blue dress had been lifted up to around your middle thighs as this was going on and shuri took this to her advantage as her slim fingers crawled up your dress to attend to the place you needed her the most.

your body felt like it was was ablaze and the air was thick and hot, almost suffocating. your kiss was beginning to get sloppier as the both of you tried to get every piece of each other. without hesistion, you undid shuri’s blazer button and took it off her lean torso revealing a black bralette under that hugged her chest nicely. she helped you take it off and threw it across the room, gripping your hips again as your lips were still attached like magnets.

eventually, shuri broke the kiss and her lips trailed down to your exposed neck where she attacked the melanin flesh, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin whilst teasing you under your dress touching everywhere but your pussy. everything shuri did was undoubtedly raising your libido levels and you didn’t ever think you could be so aroused; everyone you’d been with wasn’t able to make you feel this way. you raised your head up to allow her more access as lewd sounds and profanities spewed out of your mouth in response to her naughty antics. your hips moved on their own as you were desperate for any sort of friction. shuri could feel what you were doing and you jolted as you felt the pad of her two fingers press down gently on the outside of your pussy behind your panties. she peppered small kisses on your collarbones and chest which only heightened your desire; her foreplay game was unmatched.

“yes shuri, please touch me.” you alluringly pleaded, getting wetter with every aching second she wasn’t touching you.

“you don’t have to tell me twice y/n.” shuri moved you off her lap and laid you down onto the smooth couch below, spreading you out so she could see the beauty of all of you. you didn’t even care at this point, you just needed her in you.

shuri used three fingers to roughly move your white panties out of the way as she gently caressed the outside of your wet heat, a grin plastered on her face as your slickness soon started to coat them.

“you’re so wet for me baby.” shuri commented looking straight into your bambi eyes, enjoying the major effect she had on you.

you could see the smug look on your face, but your eyes were half-lidded and mouth slightly ajar as you nodded your head as permission for shuri to keep going. the speed at which she was circling your clit started to increase and your chest was rising and sinking quicker in response to the pleasure. shuri paused and your eyes flickered open as you wondered why she had stopped “can i pull this down?” she queried, referencing to the part of your dress covering you boobs. you profusely nodded as you desperately wanted her to continue. swiftly, she pulled it down and licked her lips like she just saw a 5 course meal. she admired the way your boobs perfectly sat on your torso, just looking so inviting. whilst still touching you, she leaned down and took your right nipple in her mouth, tongue swirling over it skillfully as she looked up at you to see your expression. you were looking at her but the eye contact along with the sensation of her fingers brushing along your clit and the feeling of her warm tongue on your sensitive nipple caused you to throw your head back, the titillating sensation becoming too much for you to handle, “ngh, yes shuri more fuck.”

shuri abruptly stopped sucking and moved up whilst leaning down besides you.

"you like that?" shuri whispered in her ear as she switched her focus to your pussy, rolling your swollen clit in between her fingers. the sentence equipped with her actions obviously ignited something in you as your melodic moans grew louder with your thighs starting to tremble. shuri laughed lowly and placed two agile fingers inside of you, meeting a bit of resistance.

you tensed and hissed at the stretch but then melted into it slowly as it started to progressively feel good. shuri then began to rapidly move her lanky fingers in and out of you as you began to writhe in pleasure,

"oh my god shuri, don't stop!" you begged, relishing in the way she was effortlessly fucking you.

your insides were warm and shuri’s shoulder muscles tensed as she searched to feel the rough and sensitive flesh for your g-spot. she seemed to have found it as you suddenly arched you back into shuri, gripping her muscular shoulders tightly and squeezing your eyes shut. you flung her head back once again as you felt a tight knot forming in your lower stomach; your orgasm was so close. shuri could tell by your wrinkled eyebrows and pleasure-filled face that continuing would make you soon cum so she quickly took her fingers out to do something else which made you jump and become upset from the sudden feeling of emptiness. however, you felt shuri slip your panties off fully and move lower, which made you immediately realize what was happening.

as expected, the ecstatic feeling was quickly replaced by shuri’s wet and warm tongue lapping up the slick stuck to the side of your thighs and using it to get lots of moisture on your now swollen clit.

you cried out, “shuri!”

shuri hummed in response, which resonated throughout your whole body and added to the buildup of your eventual release. shuri began to wildly suck on your throbbing pussy at a pace she knew would have you on edge in a matter of seconds. enjoying how sweet you tasted, she massaged your folds with her tongue and tasted every bit of you that she could. she looked up to see you looking at her through hooded eyes and she confidently kept the eye contact, which forced you to look away. although, you bucked your hips up to meet shuri’s quick tongue for maximum pleasure. your toes curled and you gripped the sofa to the point where there were indents of your long finger nails as you dragged it down harshly in reply to shuri’s amazing head abilities. your hands were lost and didn’t know where to go but ended up on shuri’s smooth shaven head as you pushed her down further into your pussy.

"argh shit, i'm really going to cum." your abdomen tensed as you gained awareness of the familiar feeling of your release brewing up. you tried to quell it since you didn't want this insane feeling to end already, but it was a struggle since shuri was being cruel and not letting up.

the atmosphere was doing nothing for shuri to subdue her own arousal.

"cum for me baby." shuri commanded in a hushed tone, licking your clit with the tip of her tongue slowly and blowing cool air on it to see how your body reacted to it.

your harmonious and lascivious voice rolling her name off the tip of her tongue was so stimulating to shuri and she could feel herself growing wetter too. the pure eroticism that emanated from the body beneath her was enough fuel for shuri to use and she reached up, trailing along your toned body that now had a thin layer of sweat, to find one of your small breasts that she had since neglected and it fit right in her hand like it was meant to be. she caressed it, while still working downstairs and fiddled the brown nub in between her fingers, which was the last straw and instantly drew you over the edge. with a loud squeal, you had finally reached your long awaited peak which caused you to occasionally spasm as the orgasm overwhelmed your body, making you sigh in pleasure, and slowly inch away from shuri since your sudden sensitivity just couldn't handle it anymore.

shuri, being the meanie she was, wasn't having it though and she wrapped her arms around the back of your shaking thighs, pulling you back into her firm grasp, "where do you think you're going? i'm not full yet."

she began to eat you out again with two hands nestled above your pubic bone. you knew how she won all those fights because the sheer strength she currently obtained was crazy as you literally couldn’t physically pull away from her.

"shuri...please." you whimpered, trying to tug her head away, not wanting to cum two times in a row in such a small amount of time.

shuri was really enjoying this though,

"you taste so good, i can't stop myself."

yet, she could see you on the verge of tears so she pushed her sadistic ways to the side for the moment and finally stopped to give you a break. she pulled her mouth away from your warm heat which was glistening from slick and some of her saliva. she gave it one last peck and then slowly climbed up to you and kissed you passionately in which you openly welcomed. the fact you were kissing her when she was just making out with your cunt was kind of dirty but really hot at the same time. she pulled your chin up with her hand and kissed you deeper, hands caressing your chest gently. you did the same and your hands wandered, exploring shuri’s body as you wished to touch her in the same way she just did to you. she gladly complied and let you do it but the moment was brought to a halt.

suddenly, you heard a very sharp knock on the door which caused you both to stop kissing as you jumped out of your skins. your head twisted to the door and then at shuri as you looked at her, in deep fear of you both being caught. she chortled at your expression and held a finger to her face to shush you.

frozen in position, you both waited for it to stop but it continued, harder this time.

“my queen, are you in there?”

“okoye?” shuri yelled out in a slightly annoyed tone due to her disruption and the fact she’s possible going to leave with blue balls.

“oh, you’re safe, thank bast.”

“why are you calling me, what’s wrong.” shuri asked as she picked up her abandoned blazer from the floor, wore it and began to button it up again. you did the same, pulling down your dress from your waist, and picking up your panties that had somehow found it’s way onto the floor. you wore them again and walked towards the mirror so you could properly see yourself.

“you’re needed in the ballroom to attend special guests.” she announced, “are you okay, should i come in?” she sounded worried but stern simultaneously.

“no, no! okoye it’s okay, i’ll be out in five minutes.” shuri replied calmly, watching you closely as you used the mirror to fix up your hair and outfit as if nothing just happened.

“okay, my queen.” okoye’s footsteps could be heard leaving the door and you both sighed in relief.

“fucking hell, that was close.” your heart was about to beat out of your chest as you held your face in your hands, laughing underneath them as the embarrassment of what you’d just done was coming back to you.

“i bet you liked the thrill though.” shuri walked up behind you, her arms gripping your waist as she pulled your ass into her crotch. you dodged her attempt to kiss your neck and playfully pushed her away, “whatever weirdo.”

she laughed and turned you around to face her, kissing your forehead sweetly, “i’m sorry we couldn’t continue sthandwa, but keep these and i’ll be in contact with you very soon.” she took out a pair of kimoyo beads from her trouser pockets and placed it in your hand, closing it herself manually as a sign that you should keep it. it was so pretty, your name in wakandan alphabet was all around it, the light glow of vibranium was a perfect accessory that you wouldn’t mind keeping until you died to be honest. it was like she planned all of this.

“will you track me or something.” you placed it on your wrist, watching how it perfectly complimented your skin colour.

“mm, maybe.” shuri ruffled your soft black hair and walked towards the vast door, opening it and standing to the side so you could walk out first, “thank god no one else can open this.” she said, closing the door behind you both. the latch clicked and it was locked once again under the command of shuri.

“that would’ve been dreadful.” you said, head leaning on shuri’s chest as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“definitely.”

you both walked back into the ball ready to act as if nothing unholy just went down between the both of you…but it was obvious, everyone could probably tell, down to the wobble in your walk to the dark red mark that had magically appeared out of the blue onto your neck.

what a mystery.

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scuttlingcrab · 8 days

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A Devil's Lament

Summary: Raphael brings Tav to an abandoned chapel, hoping to complete one final task before he begins his conquests of the Hells.

Notes: I was inspired by my friend Mark Choi and his announcement of a new piano arrangement of "Down By The River." I desperately needed to see Raphael playing not just a piano, but a pipe organ. And what would suit the occasion? Our favourite Devil playing a song he had composed over a millenia ago, after he first lost the Crown of Karsus...

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via certifieddilfenjoyer)

There once stood a magnificent chapel along the road to Baldur’s Gate. Mortals came from far and wide to bask in its glory, seek refuge from whatever sorrows afflicted them, and pray to the deity it was erected to honour. However, like most beautiful things on this plane, it was slowly worn down from one conflict after another, until it merely stood as a dilapidated relic of a time gone by.

On a particularly humid evening, nearly one year after the Elder Brain’s assault on Faerûn, Raphael found himself with Tav on the outskirts of the chapel, staring fondly at his old stomping grounds. No place was off limits when it came to his Devilish business, and the various religious structures scattered across the realms always proved to be the most lucrative. Raphael partook in his favourite game of hunting mortals in the very establishments they trusted, luring them into his traps with fanciful proposals of fortune and glory.

The Devil never settled on the weaker creatures unless there were no other alternatives, but it was the clerics and overly righteous he craved. There was nothing more joyous than watching their resolve slowly decay after his cunning verbiage and skillful charms got under their skins. Their potent souls were simply delectable, and worth all the time and effort to acquire them.

“So what are you planning?” Tav asked, stopping Raphael from reminiscing any further. “I thought you said we had no time to waste.”

“Walk with me, if you will, there is a final task I must complete before we are to continue.”

Raphael had already started on the path ahead and Tav quickly jogged to keep up, the stones crunching beneath her boots. He smiled to himself at the notion of her, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, running after him.

As Raphael strode through the remains of the toppled structure, he searched for something far more valuable than the achievements of past meals. Raphael was after the heart and soul of the old chapel, the instrument responsible for the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard in his lifetime. The chapel’s pipe organ.

He heaved a sigh of relief to find the instrument still nestled at the far end of the rubble, under a canopy of overgrown trees. He had not been back since the fight against the Absolute, and in truth feared for the worst. Raphael would never let that spectacular creation suffer the same fate due to the failures of mortalkind, but he too had neglected it; spending the last few months muddled in the intricacies of reforging the Crown of Karsus.

The Devil had often argued with himself about whether or not to bring the pipe organ to the House of Hope. He had an idyllic place for it on his atelier balcony, overlooking the River Styx and barren wastelands of Avernus. But doing so would open him up to countless interruptions and he’d lose what he valued most: his precious solitude. He would never risk it.

“A marvel…” Raphael whispered, tilting his head up to admire the towering organ, the 3,000 golden pipes glistening in the darkness.

His eyes attentively moved across the pipes, carefully inspecting every surface for signs of damage. It was no secret that Raphael cherished the instrument, nearly as much as the Crown he had desired for over a millenia. It was Raphael’s own toy box, it could imitate nearly any orchestral instrument with just a few minute actions unnoticeable to the common mortal. The organ could do wonders above and beyond any grand piano, or even any symphony. With this tool, Raphael was his own maestro, having the power to freely weave his own melodies into existence and escape into the futures he so desperately desired.

“This hunk of junk? It’s practically falling apart.”

“I will not hear another peep from you.” Raphael hissed, turning to face Tav. He raised his finger threateningly towards her, as if scolding a small child.

Tav raised both of her hands apologetically, though there was still a hint of impishness in her smile as she took a step back.

“Sorry. Carry on then…”

Raphael sniffed sharply, in an attempt to keep his infernal flames at bay. As powerful and useful as that mortal was, she was a constant irritant; pushing Raphael closer and closer to his boiling point the more time he spent with her. And yet, they were inseparable since Tav had gifted the Crown to Raphael. Of all the creatures, in all the wretched planes, that little mouse had to be the one to fall into his claws, leaving a lasting effect on him.

He quickly redirected his attention to the pipe organ, brushing off the rotten twigs and dirt from the three keyboards. He snapped his fingers and a leather bench appeared, replacing the one that had broken long ago.

Raphael eagerly took his seat, lightly running his feet over the pedalboard to test it was still functional. He then prepared the various stops along the edges of the organ, choosing his intended octaves for the serenade to come.

After a few more minutes of fiddling with the organ, making sure all the divisionals were arranged accordingly, he was ready to begin.

With another snap of Raphael’s fingers, sheet music took shape before him. The chosen melody had been etched into his memory for a thousand years, yet he still brought out the yellowing sheets of paper whenever he dared to play it. Like the ruins surrounding him, the pages were close to deteriorating, slowly withering away at the edges.

The music notes were barely legible, the ink having faded a century or two earlier. Raphael dared not handle the pages by hand, as they would crumble at the slightest touch. Seeing the pages again were oddly comforting to the Devil, a sign of how far he has come. As painful as it was to revisit the meaning behind the music, the moment would always be part of Raphael, no matter how often he tried to consign it to oblivion.

The Devil took a deep breath and pressed his fingers against the keys. His exhale matched the roaring bellow that emerged from the pipes. Energy surged through his hands as he played the beginning of the piece, his feet moving to a completely different rhythm against the pedalboard. The low notes coming from his feet accompanied the lighter ones from his fingers, creating a flawless harmony.

The sounds of the pipe organ soon filled the air, echoing around him like lost ghosts wailing in the dark. It was haunting, exquisite, and a perfect representation of his internal strife. It was Raphael’s lament - the anguish, vexations, and seething hatred from all the years of his existence poured through his own spirit into the instrument. The reverberations from the pipes shook the trees above Raphael, causing the leaves to fall like snowflakes.

These same feelings had fuelled Raphael’s drive and ambition since he was a young Devil. He was discarded by Mephistopheles and left to rot in the deepest, darkest parts of the Hells; forced to suffer for a sin he had not committed. Raphael still found his way, against all odds, and survived every obstacle thrown at him. He learned how to rely only on himself, to play the game of the Hells, and quickly rise up the ranks by tipping the scales in his favour. He had ruthlessly betrayed allies and levelled entire cities, and he would do it a hundred times over if it meant he was closer to fulfilling his destiny of uniting the Nine Hells. He would show his father how powerful and capable he truly was.

As Raphael continued, he let himself get lost in the tempo, not questioning where his hands went next, which stops he pulled, or where his feet would take him. He soon found the keyboards were wet, had it begun to rain? He closed his eyes, a lump forming in his throat as decades worth of repressed emotions started to bubble to the top. He felt his fingers slip on a key, and then another, causing him to miss a few notes, but he quickly amended the mistake. He opened his eyes in fury, only to realise that he was crying. He clenched his jaw, causing the tears falling down his cheeks to quickly evaporate as his body sizzled in anger; resenting himself and the situation, always such a fool to let these fleeting emotions get the best of him.

He wasn't sure how long he had been playing, but his fingers throbbed as they continued to press against the keys. He wanted to continue, to replay the song again and again, to make sure it was perfect, but it was coming to its natural conclusion. He would need to leave it as is.

Raphael played the final notes, holding his fingers to the keys for an extra beat as the sounds slowly faded. He snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared in his hands. He lifted it up towards the music sheets and let the edges of the papers catch fire. The pages were devoured by the flames within a matter of seconds. Let the ashes of his lament stay within the ruins of the chapel.

“Gods…” Tav whispered, her voice choking with emotion. “Did you…?”

“I have never played that in front of another mortal. The first and last time you will ever hear such a piece.”

“It was remarkable.”

“I know.” Raphael responded, rising from the bench.

He flicked his wrist and the Crown of Karsus materialised before them. He caught reflections of himself in the Crown as he stared at it, his visage splitting into broken shards against the material of the relic. Different versions of Raphael stared back at him, as if from alternate timelines, offering a range of glimpses into his future. He smiled at the reflections and the thought of what he might look like donning the Crown, fighting against Zariel and her forces, in all his glory.

“It was a fitting farewell and one I had been looking forward to for a considerable amount of time. Now onto new beginnings, come.”

Tav didn’t wait for Raphael to create a portal, she jumped towards him, latching on to his arm. On previous occasions he would’ve shooed her away, like an irksome mosquito, but he let her stay clinging to him. Just this once, perhaps for his own comfort.

Tonight Raphael would write a different composition - one of celebration and conquest, that he would play throughout the decades to come, solidifying his reign.

#writing #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #baldurs gate 3 raphael #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #raphael fanfic #raphael bg3 x reader #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #raphael #crown of karsus #bg3 tav #raphael bg3 x tav

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the-doomed-witch · 9 months

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hey boo, can u make 1800's reader and married nat having secret affair but reader convinces nat to run away with her somewhere else where they can live and love peacefully, inspired by ivy and the lakes

MAGNIFICENTLY CURSED

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You question your need for running away with the woman you love passionately, but her dreamy desires do it for you anyway. // based on ivy by Taylor Swift; the lakes by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 1.0k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS+MEN DNI. set in the 1800s, infidelity, homophobia + closeting, allusions to smut not really described, nat is like a whole ass poet bro i will cry 😭

SEND ME REQUESTS BASED ON TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS

Author’s Note: hi anon, i hope this justifies your request <3 obviously this is emisue-dead poets society-anne with an e-elizabeth bennet coded bc i’m a raging lesbian with an obsession with the 1800s for no reason at all🤭

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION

— ✦ —

Stealing glances with Natasha was the glory of her. She was a distinguished woman, known to be married to one of the most revered men in town. The ladies at the lunch discussed stories of her well established marriage, but no one knew the truth except you, and Natasha.

Sometimes you would go to meet her, with the excuse of needing to talk with her clinquishly. Her husband was a fine fellow, a gentleman who’d welcome you to their warm domicile, and let you take your time alone with his wife.

On the days when your blood boiled with envy of his nauseating smile, you’d meet her in forbidden places, near rivers of estrangement, and away from the common folk.

She held no love for him, you weren’t oblivious like the neighbourhood women. What made you bitter was the way he was associated with her throughout the town. He was the one credited with your efforts of making her the happiest woman around.

Oh how you longed for Natasha to be known as your lady.

But it’s worth struggling for, when she touches your lips, when she kisses them, and when her hands entangle with yours. “My most beloved,” she addresses you every time before she dares to break the space between the two of you. You respond, “Yes, my lady.” before leaning in.

It’s been years of meeting Natasha in darkness and in delight, touching her as if speaking of poetry. Your hands find their place in the heat beneath her gown, leaving her to the euphoria of gushing. She does the same for you in return, sometimes sitting on her knees to have a peek of what her fingers feel.

You have a rendezvous in the privacy of her own house, while he’s patiently sitting on the porch, doing something like pretending to read a newspaper. She sighs loudly against your kiss, it’s almost romantical.

He knocks on the shut door, asking if everything was alright. You break your contact with her abruptly, and answer him with a loud, stern voice, “Yes, Natasha is trying a new corset I brought along with me. Nothing to worry about.” He walks away with not a single penny of care, unbeknownst to everything you could do only if his wife had her corset taken off.

“I sense something bizarre about you today, my love.” she remarks, pushing your back against the stone cold wall, opposite to which is sat the notorious husband. To think the two of you could be vulnerable within inches was a terrifying thought. “I don’t think standing here is a good idea..”

“What would he even do if he finds us out? He can burn this house all he wants, at least my death greets me with you in my arms.”

“Natasha…”

“Tell me what is troubling you, my Y/N. What is so tragical that I can’t take it away from you?”

Her poetic mouth never failed to leave you enraptured. “W- well, all I've thought of since the past nights is running away. I mean to take you along, but I’m troubled by all the presumed consequences.”

“You meaning to take me along is singularly the greatest thing I’ve heard. To be with my muse, in a place where all the poets went to die, is a privilege I'm blessed to have.”

“I don’t belong, and Natasha, neither do you, you understand it, and I know it. But going out into the wild, with no shelter to take? I’m worried to death.”

“Again, my beloved, at least death greets us with you in my arms. I don’t fear it.”

You entwine your finger in her fierce red hair, and pull her face close to yours till you can hear her breathe and feel her heart pound against your chest and tell her, “Your musings, God, they make me want to be with you all the time, alone. Your poetry is the sole reason I live, dearest.”

“You’re the sole reason my poetry lives. You’re my muse, Y/N.”

You push her against her vanity, with an attempt to taste her delicacy, this time not confining her sounds to your secrecy. You lift up your leg, to give Natasha a place for grinding slowly. The skirt of her apron is lifted, along with her pale yellow dress.

The door smashes open, with her husband walking in, “You’ve been alone for far too- What is going on here?!”

Natasha speaks in a fake pleading voice, “Sir, let me explain to you.” before she gives you a long kiss, and grabs your hand. She squeezes your palm, hinting you to follow her along.

His chin falls agape, the green nerves of around his wrist pop out, irefully.

“What monstrosity is this, Natasha? I thought you were a pristine lady, but evidently you’re a disgustful woman! You should be- Get away from her Y/N!” He comes forward to push you away, but she doesn’t let him finish, and runs out of the house with you.

You hold up your dress to make yourself a room to run with her through the fields. After fleeing for a while, you notice he has missed the trail. So she tugs your arm again, making you run till you reach the illustrious lake, till you’re out of breath.

She laughs as you hold her in an embrace, and screams towards the deserted forests and mountains on the other side of the lake, “I can feel the freedom in me. I can feel it in my blood!” Her voice echoes back at you.

You join her laughter, eyes filled with tears, and cry out, “I am in love with Natasha! I am a woman, and I wholeheartedly love another.” She pecks your lips repeatedly, till you can’t stop laughing and hold her blushing red cheeks away from yours, “We’ll find ourselves a home, we’ll find us a way to live. I promise you.”

You lace her gentle hands with yours. They’re cold with the breeze and the disquietude. You grasp her untamed heart, and she cleaves on to your pain.

#skye’s taylor swift themed drabbles #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow #black widow x you #black widow x reader

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fragileheartbeats · 2 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗮

Sixteen winters have passed since that day. In the shadowed cradle of a world untouched by the warmth of the sun, the twins roamed the icy barrens like phantoms of the frost. Born of blood and ice, their lives had unfolded beneath the watchful gaze of their draconic guardian, a beast of legend whose breath was death's cold whisper. The twins knew not the touch of human hand nor the soft cadence of the spoken word; their language was the howl of the wind, the crack of ice, and the silent understanding that passed between them like the secret whispers of the stars. No names graced their lips, for in the language of the winds and the wild, names were as fleeting as the breath that bore them.

Their days were a testament to the savage beauty of survival, a dance with death played out upon the endless white. They hunted with ferocity of the wild, their bodies honed by the relentless pursuit of the fleet-footed hare and the sharp-clawed bear. Naked they roamed, their skin kissed by the frost, wearing only the silver and blonde crowns bestowed upon them by their lineage. They moved with a grace that belied their savage existence, their bodies honed by the relentless pursuit of survival. They were creatures of instinct, their senses sharp as the frost. Silver hair cascaded down their backs, untouched and unbound, a river of moonlight in the eternal twilight of their world. Their eyes, a haunting echo of Valyria's lost glory, gleamed with a feral light, silver and purple orbs reflecting the endless dance of predator and prey.The cold was a constant companion, yet it bowed before them, for they were of the ice, born to its embrace.

The twins hunted as one, their movements a symphony of silent death. The ice beneath their feet whispered tales of ancient hunts, of blood spilled and lives taken in the eternal cycle of survival. They feasted on the raw flesh of the seals that dared to bask on the ice, their teeth tearing through skin and sinew with primal savagery. The taste of blood, warm and life-giving, was the sacrament of their existence, a communion with the land that bore them.

They communed with the world and each other through gestures and looks, a language born of necessity and the purest form of understanding. They needed no words to convey the depth of their bond, for their souls were intertwined, two halves of a whole forged in the crucible of their shared existence. Their language was the unspoken bond of soul and glance, a communion of spirits entwined by shared blood. They spoke in the rustle of leaves, the crack of ice, the sigh of the wind through the desolate wastes. Theirs was the vocabulary of the wild, a tapestry of sounds and silence that spoke of deep, unbreakable bonds.

The dragon, their guardian and guide, watched over them with a presence as ancient as the mountains. Under her shadow, the twins knew no fear, their lives intertwined with the leviathan of frost and snow. They rode upon her back, her wings beating a rhythm that echoed in the very marrow of their bones, a song of freedom and flight that filled their souls with exhilarating terror. Each day, they roamed the wastes on the backs of their dragon kin, the sky their dominion, the earth their hunting ground. They hunted as the dragons did, striking from above with lethal grace, their prey unable to escape the shadow of death that descended upon them. Fish from the frozen rivers, hares that darted across the snow—no creature was safe from their hunger.

On the day that destiny's hand would steer their course anew, the sky above was a tapestry of brooding clouds, the sun a forgotten memory. The twins ventured forth upon the back of their dragon mother, her scales a labyrinth of frozen light. They soared above the world, masters of all they surveyed, until the whims of fate cast them down. They were aloft, the wind in their hair, the world spread out below them like a tapestry of ice and snow.

The boy, in his curiosity and boldness, leaned too far, reaching for a glimpse of eternity in the abyss below, laughing into the wind as they ascended into the heavens. And in that moment, the bond that tethered him to safety snapped, and he was swallowed by the void. A sudden gust, stronger and more treacherous than any they had known, caught them unawares. The dragon faltered, its wings buffeted by the relentless force of the wind. And then, in a moment that stretched into eternity, the boy was gone, torn from the dragon's back and sent plummeting into the abyss below. His sister's cry was a thing of raw anguish, a sound that would haunt the winds forevermore. She watched, powerless, as her brother fell, his body a mere speck against the vastness of the world.

The girl's cry pierced the veil of snow and ice, a wail of loss and despair that shook the very foundations of their world. She watched, heart shorn in twain, as the sea consumed her other half, the boy who was her mirror, her soul's echo. The dragon circled, a silent mother, its mournful cry a lament for the child it had failed to save.

As he fell, the world around him a blur of white and grey, the sea below, a maw of churning darkness, opened to claim him, swallowing his form with indifferent hunger. He struck the sea with a force that turned his body to fire, the cold waters closing over him in a shroud of death. But death was not yet ready to claim him. The cold seeped into his bones, a herald of the end, yet it was in this embrace that he found clarity. The memory of a voice, soft and sorrowful, filled his mind. He saw her as if through a veil of dreams, her face alight with love and pain as she whispered to her children. Her lips pressed against their foreheads, a benediction and a burden all at once.

Yet, even as darkness claimed him, he did not feel fear. In the space between breaths, in the quiet heart of the storm, he heard her voice again, a lullaby of the night sky, of stars and secrets and the boundless love that endured beyond the veil.

"Forgive me," she whispered, her voice the warmth in the cold, the light in the dark. "Forgive me, my darlings, for the world I have brought you into."

And he closed his eyes.

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿

@fragileheartbeats . Don't plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

House Celestyr tag list: @emily2003alzaga @nash-dara @altaircc @heavenly1927 @omgsuperstarg @asoiafhyperfixation

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gwaedhannen · 4 months

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[Excerpt from Sorrow Beyond Words: Collected Testimony of the War of Wrath, 4th Edition; ed. Elrond Peredhel. Archive of Cîw Annúminas, inaugural collection]

“Simply reaching Menegroth was a struggle. Doriath had become a twisting nightmare of overgrowth and rot and mists, as Morgoth’s power warred with the remains of the Girdle and our old songs. Ai, our home, our haven! I know the name of every holly in Region, before the exile. We found deadfalls surrounded by dozens of animals who’d lain down beside the trees and rotted before they died. Blind moose more antler than flesh staggered towards us even after a dozen arrows. Vines covered in dripping thorns reached for our eyes. The cherry trees were overladen with fruits that smelled like gangrene. Deildhod stumbled into a nest of maddened vipers, and only escaped because their tails were all tangled together into a festering mass and could hardly move. We never saw or heard a single bird. I’m amazed we lost no one in that whole push through Region. No, I speak a lie. I know how we passed through with nothing worse than scrapes. Elrond was with us, and the ghost of Melian’s love still recognized her kin.

“Esgalduin had nearly been dammed by one of Hírilorn’s fallen boles, but the bridge still held. We crossed and reached the ruined gates, wrought twice and broken twice. Within there was only darkness to be seen; we knew not what manner of horrors Morgoth had sent to infest the city, but Ingwion was unwilling to leave them at the rear of his forces as he moved north, if it could be helped. Celeborn stood at Elrond’s right and myself at his left. Far less an honor guard than the heir of Elu Thingol and Melian Besain deserved. Yet in those dark days it was all the honor we could muster. King Dior Eluchíl had known thirty-six summers when he was unrighteously slain. Queen Elwing Nimaew thirty-five when despair took her to the sea. Lord Elrond Peredhel beheld the city of Elu for the first and only time in his twenty-ninth summer.

“Elrond stood before his inheritance and Sang. He sang a lament, for the lost endless years of joy and peace, for deep halls lit by birdsong and echoing with wisdom, for the Forsaken People who awoke the forest and earth with many voices, for the works of beauty never to be seen again on this side of the sea. He sang a promise, that the glory of Menegroth will be remembered in the songs of Middle-Earth for as long as its children endure. He sang thanks, for the protection the halls granted us until it could shelter us no more. As his song at last ceased, I thought I heard nightingales answering him.

“Stars shone on his brow, and his hair glistened as the vault of night, and the memories of our once-eternal bliss in the woods of Thingol’s realm under Elbereth’s gifts arose in my mind. Let Oropher dream of a deep hall for his own; let Celeborn reign where he will at his wife’s side! I knew in my heart, as the echo of nightingale songs faded, that there was no lord or king I would ever stand beside save Elrond Elwingion.

“The living stone in which our kingdom once thrived knew his voice, and at long last laid down its burden and passed. The darkness over Menegroth was lifted, and we went forth into its corpse, and no beast or orc could stand before us. I do not sing of what we found and left behind when we cast down the bridge and gave leave for the river to flood the caves. It is not worth remembering.”

#silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #elrond #doriath #menegroth #war of wrath #my OCs #war of wrath: sorrow beyond words #stormwritten #the Second Kinslaying occurred on this day in FA 506 #you can observe the day of remembrance by burning a Son of Feanor in effigy #in remembrance I'm writing Sindarin Elrond because I've seen too much Feanorian Elrond recently #the narrator is a former senior Marchwarden who escaped the Kinslaying and brought refugees over the mountains to Celeborn and Galadriel #she'll never forgive herself for not being at Sirion for the Third Kinslaying #she becomes one of Elrond's chief counselors and one of the heads of Rivendell's forces along with Glorfindel #she and Glorfindel were definitely at each other's throats for years until Elrond yelled at them to chill #they may have hatefucked #sorry Erestor #she either dies when Celebrían is captured #or leads the search for Celebrían and sails west with her #in either case she'll never forgive herself for failing #“Nimaew” = “white/pale bird” I think #a name given to Elwing after her leap #she doesn't know about it yet

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yetanothersparrowofthedawn · 3 months

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Love Songs and Shit (Extended Masterpost)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x YN

Genre: Angst, Hurt, Fluff, Smut (honestly it varies depending on the chapter)

Wordcount: if only I knew...

Plot: YN is a popular American singer-songwriter who, on a rainy evening in 2018, crossed path with the members of Greta Van Fleet. It didn't take long for the usually detached and fiercely independent girl to experience an unfamiliar itch. As she put pen to paper, it seemed a certain long-haired guitarist had her thinking about writing love songs and shit.

Concept: Each Album is a period of YN's journey, each track is a song she wrote after a specific chapter, so basically her discography is a chronological story of her life (with Jake, mostly). I'm currently not posting chapters in chronological order, but everything is organized in chronological order on this Masterpost.

Disclaimer: All the album covers are paintings by Norwegian painter Henrik Aarrestad Uldalen I edited. So, credit to that guy.

Also some chapters may involve triggering themes, I'll add the specific trigger warnings at the beginning of each chapter. Stay safe, besties.

(PREQUEL)Debut Album: "Remain Nameless" => NOT YET STARTED

Old Money

Seven

Blue Velvet

Lost at Sea

Bel Air

South London Forever

This is what makes us girls

Dollhouse

All-American Bitch

Hope There’s Someone

Grace

idontwannabeyouanymore

Remain Nameless

Brutal

Rabbit Heart

National Anthem

2nd Album: "Sweet Nothings" => NOT YET STARTED

The Night We Met

Ride

Lover to Lover

Body Electric

Moves

Hiding

Hope is a Dangerous thing for me to have

Love Song

Sweet nothings

3rd Album: "Let the Light In" => NOT YET STARTED

Wildest dreams

All the girls you've loved before

Cornelia street

How Big, How blue, How beautiful

Dress

Love

Always Remember Us This Way

Let the Light In

Lover

4th Album: "How to Disappear" => NOT YET STARTED

The Next Best American Record

King

Brooklyn Baby

How to Disappear

Mariners Apartment Complex

Norman Fucking Rockwell

Watercolor Eyes

Sky Full of Song

One step forward, three steps back

Out of the woods

5th Album: "The Greatest" => NOT YET STARTED

Happiness is a Butterfly

Swan song

Too Good at Goodbyes

Favorite Crime

You're Losing Me

Without You

The Greatest

6th album: "Long & Lost" => IN PROGRESS

Hits Different (coming soon..)

Now that we don’t talk

Beautiful People with Beautiful Problems

Long & Lost (coming next)

Is it over Now? (coming soon..)

All This and Heaven Too

7th Album: "St Jude" => DONE

California

Secrets from a Girl

Style

The Way I loved You

St Jude

All You Had to do Was Stay

Honeymoon

Happier than ever

8th Album: "The End of Love" => ON HIATUS

The Bomb

Prayer Factory

River

All too well

Caught

Stargirl Interlude

Getaway car

Angels like you

Various Storms and Saints

Leave my Body

Cassandra

The End of Love

9th Album: "Dream Girl Evil" => NOT YET STARTED

Carmen

A&W

Hometown Glory

Dream Girl Evil

Swimming

Restraint

Sober

Sober II

Heaven Is Here

June

God knows I tried

Never Let Me Go

(SEQUEL) 10th Album: "Margaret" => NOT YET STARTED

Morning Elvis

Girls against God

Mama who bore me

Patricia

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Kitsungi

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Margaret

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shhtickerbook · 2 months

Note

Hi, I really like the Wonka movie and love the idea of Willy being a regressor. Could you do a scenario where he's at his shop but suddenly gets trigger and regresses?

Bittersweet

thank you so much for the request! Sorry it took a while.

Trigger warning for panic attacks, mild injury description and detailed descriptions of a trauma trigger

This fic takes place where all of the The Scrub crew are all aware of Willys regression, post movie. Also in my own AU, Their found family decide to remain close to eachother and stay in town to help with the new shop / factory.

At last the rebuilt shop had been restored, it had taken time , much longer than it had previously. For a while Wonka could hardly bare to look at it, seeing everything he worked so hard for so destroyed. But with the help of his friends and new family, they managed to restore it to her former glory. It was even improved beyond its previous, with the chocolate cherry blossom bearing a prismatic array of leaves and petals. It was somehow even more perfect than before.

Everything was going perfect that day, sales were inclining everyday. Abacus becoming chief financial advisor of the store, with the Money he had earned he was able to move both his Wife and Granddaughter to come live with him here. They were all thriving brilliantly with this new future to come.

Noodle was attending a grammar school now, but every day she would come racing to the store to help out. She was busy stocking the shelves of chocolate boxes, when she saw Willy strolling down the lane, cane swinging. Sometimes he just had to take it all in around him again, grinning at this dream he’d made come true.

“We’ve only got a few of the deluxe boxes on display Willy, they were pretty popular and they probably won’t last too long.”

Willy hopped over to take a look, the truffles in question had been increasingly popular. But it shouldn’t be a problem, he had a machine upstairs that was busy pumping out more. They had been closed for some refurbishment for a little while, but at last reopening to the public, and he couldn’t be more excited. Willy made sure to make some a quick patrol around the shop, checking in with each of his friends who were working in their own stations.

“Willy get a look at this! It’s done”

Piper called over in a sing song voice, she was busy tinkering away at a panel by the moat that surrounded the chocolate tree. Before there was just the small boat that mechanically spun around in a circuit, but this time Piper and Willy had put their heads together to something much more magic. With her mastery in plumbing, she turned a wheel until a pipe burst open into the moat. Wonkas finest melted chocolate streaming out, this time the boat needing no mechanism to cycle around. It was a perfect chocolate river spiralling around the tree, Willy whooping in excitement.

“It’s perfect!”

With clasped hands and a grin, before Piper put her arm around the chocolatier with a firm pat on the back. It was great timing too, the clock rang for 9:00am. Abacus checking his own pocket watch to be sure before calling out.

“Alright, any minute now we’re going to be open to the public again. And if my findings are correct I think it will be even busier than last time! Oh and noodle, Uniform?.”

He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow, noticeably lacking the blush pink outfit. Noodle just chuckling before holding up her bag, a flash of pink fabric poking out like a flag. It had been Willy who designed such garments, everyone at first was a little unsure with how… flamboyant they were. But they quickly warmed up to them, even Abacus.

Willy just couldn’t wait for the customers to arrive, sitting himself by the glass to peer through into the gallery gourmet. In the distance seeing a cloud or people making their way up. With a smile he stood up, adjusting his new scarf over his coat, before opening the front doors.

“Welcome one and all again to the renewed Wonkas chocolate!”

The new grand opening was going splendidly, the chocolate river canal proving to be quite the money maker too. Only a sovereign a ride, and it created quite a line for it that wound around the shop. Which meant those waiting in line had a perfect view of everything they had on sale.

Willy had the opportunity to unveil one of his newest creations too, the everlasting gobstopper. A hard candy In which never gets smaller, no matter how much and how long you sucked on it. (Lofty had been testing one for nearly a month now)

The prismatic coloured candy was stacked into a pyramid in its new display, Noodle working the station. They were making the most money they had ever had, but that didn’t matter much to Willy. What mattered to him was being able to share his joy and magic with those willing to indulge. And this time he didn’t have the chocolate cartel to worry about, his shop was bound to become the star of the Gallery Gourmet.

“Oi Mr Wonka!”

Willy was alerted by a boy tugging on his tail coat, turning to see a familiar face. It was the young shoe shine lad he had been stopped by multiple times on his first day here.

“Where are them swirly chocolate things? Me Mam loves them.”

Willy chuckled, surprised that the boy wasn’t trying to proposition him with a shoe shine or a brush of his coat. He already had chocolate smeared across his mouth, clearly been at the free samples.

“The chocolate truffles I think you’re referring to, are just over by the display over there young man. But try and save some for your Mother though”

Willy pointed his cane in the direction of the now dwindling boxes of truffles. The boy giving him a doff of his cap before turning on heel, Willy returning it with his own top hat. He decided to go check in with Abacus, he was just finishing up with a customer. The cashier ringing joyfully as he dropped coins inside, Abacus just couldn’t believe how much they were making.

“I’d say we’ve already made double of what he did last time Willy, especially with the new gobstoppers.”

Willy grinned, everything just felt so perfect. With the extra money, he planned to raise his friend’s wages. And although she wasn’t aware, Willy had begun to collect a fund. One for Noodle, he had already promised her a lifetime of chocolate. But with the girls smarts and potential, he wanted her to have most in life. The money was for her future, if she wanted to pursue any kind of career. She had done so much for her, he wanted to do the very same for her own future.

Before he could respond, a scream cut through their conversation. The sudden noise startling Willy, almost feeling his stomach drop into his shoes. Over on the other side of the store, a crowd had grown around a young boy. A boy who was red in the face, spluttering and choking. The exact boy that Willy had spoken to just moments ago.

Abacus immediately dropped what he was doing, racing over and pushing through the crowd. Willy knew he should follow, make sure the boy was alright. It was his store, the owner.

But he didn’t, he stood there completely catatonic.

No, no. Not again, it can't happen again.

In preparation for the new opening, Willy had obsessively checked and taste tested each product. So much so that he’d gone to bed with an exceptionally sore stomach. Everything was safe, he was sure everything was safe. Abacus, Lottie and Noodle were all kneeling by the young man, Before Abacus called out.

“Call for an ambulance-“

The shop itself was spinning, and it wasn’t just the chocolate canal ride. Willy was sure that the ground itself was falling away beneath him. An ambulance? Before it had just been multicoloured hair growth or green skin pigmentation, nothing life threatening. Nothing ever in need of any medical attention.

What had he done? It’s not as if the chocolate cartel could be involved like last time. It was his fault, it had to be his fault. He felt sick, face turned white as a sheet. He lost track of how long he’d been staring, but Noodle had noticed him through the crowd and immediately ran to her elder brother figure once the boy was being taken away.

“Willy? Willy!”

She tried to get his attention, but the chocolatiers eyes were fixed ahead. His lips were trembling with his head shaking, it was scaring her. She tried her best to reassure him, knowing what he’d be thinking.

“It’s okay, Willy you didn’t-“

He broke eye contact with the scene, looking down at her with his head shaking even more violently. His eyes flooded with tears as he began to step backwards, almost like a frightened animal.

“No, nono. Not again it can’t happen- won’t happen again”

He started mumbling out almost psychotically, flinching away from noodle when she tried to touch him. Both arms up with his hands and fingers flicking in panic. It was all his fault, that young boy might even die because he had done something wrong. He had no one to blame this time, what would mamma think?

He couldn’t hear anything around him anymore, it was just static. Everything was spinning and blurring, stumbling and tripping over things as he continued to backtrack. He needed to get away, he was a coward. A coward in which had probably killed or seriously injured a child with his stupid dreams.

Noodle tried again desperately to get his attention, waving a hand in his face. It was terrifying, he didn’t look like himself. He just continued to mutter and whimper to himself, his head shaking so hard that it may pop off his shoulders. She tried to hold onto his hand again but he recoiled away in disgust like she was diseased. No matter what she was saying, it wasn’t getting through.

“Willy! You’re scaring me, let me explain-“

But he wasn’t listening, holding his hands close up to his chest protectively. His cane clattering loudly to the ground, now without his mobility aid as he kept stepping back.

He needed to get away, now. Gasping for air, he stumbled backwards, feeling for the door into the backroom of the store. But he felt into midair instead, losing his balance and crashing into one of the shelves instead.

He yelped out in surprise, the back of his head hitting wood as a one of the glass jars wobbled from its shelving before crashing down over him. The further stimulation only worsening Willys condition. Noodle screamed and attempted to grab onto him before he fell, but couldn’t in time. Shards of glass and candy fell about him like snowflakes, But Wonka hardly noticed, far too panicked and overstimulated to care about any pain.

The commotion attracted even more attention in the shop, customers looking over to see the owner sitting in a pile of glass shards. As quickly as it happened, Willy somehow managed to get back to his feet, splintering his hands and arms with the glass in panic. In a rush he managed to pull open the back door and escape from everything. Behind him he could hear people calling his name, but unable to differentiate whether it was his friends or angry rioting customers. Noodle just stood there, not sure if she should follow. Deciding instead to enlist some support before attempting to talk with him like this.

Willy’s legs felt like jelly, so he didn’t make it very far. Falling into a heap on the floor, before gasping desperately for air. He couldn’t breathe properly, tears pouring down his face before he burst into sobs. Every single terrible outcome and scenario was racing around Wonkas brain. Did he not check the ingredients correctly? What if the boy wasn’t the only one in distress? They would for sure close down the store, maybe even arrest him. It was all his fault, it was happening all over again and there was nothing he could do about it.

Once the child was loaded into the ambulance, the employees of Wonkas Chocolate thought it best to close up shop for today. Abacus had spoken with the ambulance attendant, who had assured him that the boy was going to be alright. It was a huge relief to everybody, and although fellow customers seemed a little unsettled by the event, it was no where near like the angry mob from before. The only irritation coming from the announcement of their early closure. Both Abacus and Piper were guiding shoppers out the front door when Noodle approached both of them, looking extremely distressed.

“It’s Willy, he’s- he’s not okay”

Wonka was still so deep into a panic attack, so that when the door opened and his friends entered, he hardly noticed.

Noodle gasped at the sight of him, his cut up hands from the glass had begun to bleed horribly over his hands and arms, ruining his velvet jacket. The chocolatier was curled up into a ball, hyperventilating between cries.

Noodle couldn’t help but hold onto Pipers hand, she wasn’t good with blood. Benz squeezed her hand back reassuringly, they all too often forgot she was still a child herself. So Abacus approached first, kneeling in front of the panicked boy.

“Willy, it’s alright. It’s not what you think. The boy is going to be okay.”

But It didn’t seem like Abacus’ words were getting through, He had to physically take ahold of Willys hands before he would any pay attention, his bloodshot eyes snapping up. It hurt his heart to see him like this.

“He— is. Okay?”

Willy managed to choke out between gasps, Noodle pulled away from piper to sit on the floor too, a hand comfortingly on his knee as she looked with concern. Willy Wonka was the strongest person she’d ever met, seeing him like this, it was scary.

“Yeah Willy, he just had a peanut allergy-“

Willy blinked hard, shaking his head again.

“Bb-ut I mmade a sign- i forgot to put them up?”

He began to spiral yet again, he did remember creating such labels, as it was Noodles idea. He thought it terrible luck for those who had such afflictions. But he wanted to include everyone to enjoy his creations as much as he could. With plenty of his other treats being free from such ingredients. They were even placed on the other side of the store especially to reduce any cross contamination. Had he forgotten to properly label something?

“Seems the young chap just wasn’t paying too much attention, just grabbing at any free sample he could find. It’s not your fault.”

Abacus gently rubbed the back of his hand with his thumb, before sucking through his teeth at the state of them. Willy was struggling to process this new information, his body and brain had already accepted the fact that this was all his fault.

“You need to breath Willy, in and out”

Noodle demonstrated, breathing in and blowing gently out onto his hot teary face. Willy looked up, still taking in short shallow breaths. He attempted to follow her guide, but halfway fell back into the hyperventilation.

“It’s okay buddy, try again”

Piper had come to kneel down too, smiling sadly at the sorry sight of him. It was strange seeing such a positive character so distraught. It ended up taking quite few minutes for the breathing exercises to help, with Willy leaning against Abacus as he did his best to follow his friends instructions.

At last the hyperventilation had slowed but Willy was still shaking. Biting down hard on his lower lip, tears continuing to cascade down his cheeks silently. Clicking his tongue sympathetically, Abacus pat his shaking knee. It was clearly going to take a little while for Willy to accept that this wasn’t his fault.

“You’ve had a bit of a fright, haven’t you?”

He couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by his overreaction. But even with the reassurance that the boy would be alright, the anxiety was still lingering like little bugs racing up and down his skin. He was also beginning to feel that fuzzy sensation in his head again. It was like the scare had flipped a switch in his head, so he just nodded mournfully.

“Oh you poor lad”

Abacus tutted sympathetically, turning his attention to the injuries too. Gently lifting his arms to peer at them, surface wounds thankfully yet still very painful looking.

At least those could be easily fixed. Then turned to Piper with a knowing look, both of them having the same suspicion of his seemingly regressive headspace.

“We best get him upstairs to the flat, would you mind Benz?”

The woman nodded, before patting Noodle on the shoulder. Who was still staring at Willy with concern and anxiety.

“Hey noodle, how about you go help Larry and Lottie wrap up the store? We’ll take care of Willy”

Noodle wasn’t sure at first, looking back at her friend who was still in quite an upset state. but she was a little grateful for the opportunity. Seeing Willy so traumatised and bloody wasn’t an easy thing for a 13 year old to look at, especially when it was somebody she loved so much. So she quickly lunged forward to hug him tight, bearing in mind to be gentle around his arms. Even in the hug she could feel him shaking still, Willy only managing to weakly return it. When she stood up to leave she hesitated for a moment, watching as Abacus helped him onto his jittering legs.

“We’ll get him all sorted dear, you go help with the store..”

Abacus reassured her, Nodding after one more hesitant glance. She trusted them to look after Willy, they all cared for him so.

“Now then, let’s get you upstairs.”

Piper held the chocolatier up, watching how his legs were knocked kneed like a newborn fawn. Holding an arm over him to help him move on forward.

“Mmsorry”

Willy mumbled. Although he could sense the obvious regression taking its hold, he felt like such a silly burden. But when he they came up to his spiral staircase to his flat, he couldn’t help but moan. His stupid legs felt completely useless, almost like they were made from gummy candy.

“It’s okay buddy, but I don’t think these stairs are gonna be the smartest plan for you right now”

Before he could respond, he yelped as he was lifted up, then being settled on the plumbers hip. Seeing her grin mischievously as she held him steady. Willys face burning in surprise, but the action just made him feel even more fuzzy.

“How can someone who eats mainly chocolate be so little? He’s like a bird?”

Piper hushed over Willy to Abacus, who just chuckled at the comment.

“Little I think is definitely the correct adjective for right now, the poor boy's had such a fright"

There was a part of Willy that wanted to object to the accusation that he was feeling little, but even he knew they were likely right. He needed it terribly. And now that the adrenaline of everything was fading, he could truly feel the pain in his arms. Eyes widening in fear when taking actual sight of them, he didn’t like blood.

So he just squeezed his eyes shut right, pushing his head into pipers shoulder. The woman in question looking over at Abacus at the action, lips pursed at just how adorable this was. If it weren’t for such a bad situation, she would be skipping in joy. Why Willy had decided to implement such a fancy staircase (when he often needed his cane) was beyond them. Sometimes the chocolatier forgot about practicality, always wanting the extravaganza.

At last they made it upstairs to a landing, Abacus opening the mahogany door into Wonkas flat. The inside was extremely cosy, its interior inspired from his old canal boat home from when he was a child. A sloped curved ceiling with lots of warm colours and carved wooden decor. It was pretty simple and homey, the kitchenette and lounge taking up the room. A very large window looked down below to the gallery gourmet, with a small workshop set up against it, an ornate machine churning out singular chocolates. Then finally Willy’s bed up a few steps to an upper level of the room itself.

There was were two other doors on either side of the reasonably size room, one normal one leading to a bathroom. The other door abnormally small? Only around a metre in height. But that didn’t matter just now, the pair walking further inside before Piper settled Willy down on the couch.

“There we go, home and safe now.”

She comforted, hating how fragile and anxious he seemed. The presence of his home brought some comfort though, Willy reaching out to stroke the ribbed corduroy fabric of his lounge. Not before Abacus quickly lifted his hands away in alarm.

“Ah-ah! I’m sorry Willy but I will not have you smearing blood into that furniture”

He chastised only gently, the pale pink fabric being very easy to stain, and even harder to wash out.

“Wasn’t gonna..”

Willy mumbled, but his eyes did widen when he peered at his injured hands again. They were starting to really sting now, and he could catch the shiny glint of glass that was still imbedded.

“I should hope not, that chaise lounge just so happens to be one of my favourite pieces of decor in this accommodation”

A sharp pertinent voice cut through, not before Piper let out a yelp in surprise. Standing between them was a very small orange man, who just rolled his eyes at the reaction.

“Oh please Ms Benz, you have squealed many times at my presence. I’m tired of being revered like a mouse around a circus elephant”

The Oompa Loompa was holding an empty teacup in hand, he was only departing from his own room to tidy it away. Not expecting the flat to suddenly be busy with uninvited guests.

“Well if I’m the ‘circus elephant’ in that analogy, I’d be careful I don’t send you through that window with the kick of my boot.”

Piper threatened, stamping her foot in his direction. She wasn’t so keen on Lofty, his uptight attitude drove her up the wall. And she still hadn’t got used to his small presence, maybe it was because when he was a child she used to have nightmares and a very irrational fear of gnomes of all things.

Abacus himself also was a little surprised by the little orange man’s entrance, but was able to behave more tactfully than Piper. He’d only spoken with Lofty very little, the Oompa Loompa preferring much more to stay to himself with his job in the tasting department.

“Now would somebody care to explain what has happened here?”

Lofty came to the front to peer at Willy, grimacing at the sight of his injury. But he was even more curious about the strange manner that Wonka seemed to be in. Willy had tucked his knees to his chest as he anxiously flicked his fingers, he certainly wasn’t his usual overly positive and often irritating self.

“We had a bit of a situation in the shop, poor lad went into anaphylaxis. He’s going to be alright, but Willy here got quite the fright”

Lofty raised his eyebrows, it still didn’t quite explain the bloody arms though. But the possibility of that lounge being stained was his main concern.

“I’ll go fetch my first aid kit before he gets blood on anything else in here that I have the slightest attachment to.”

Lofty said with mild disgust before turning on heel to his room. Willy himself still looked pretty miserable, but more exhausted than anything. Piper just wanted to scoop the boy up into her lap and squeeze him tight, although she wasn’t sure if it would be appreciated right now. The group was then startled for a moment from a noise clearly coming from downstairs, a creaking metal noise.

“BENZ! WE TRIED TO TURN THE CHOCOLATE VALVE OFF BUT ITS NOW STUCK AT MAX PRESSURE”

A whiny yell came out clearly from a distressed Larry chucklesworth who had turned the chocolate river valve in the wrong direction, doubling its pressure as it pumped out melted chocolate.

“For Petes sake! I’m coming you idiot!.”

Piper sighed out in exasperation, pinching her brow. She had specifically told everybody not to touch it, she was still sorting out all the kinks. She did catch a small giggle coming from Willy though, happy to see at least it had made him smile.

“I better go sort out that mess downstairs, you be good for Abacus and that sunburnt gnome”

She leant down and gave him a peck on the cheek, wishing she could spend some more time with the little chocolatier. Turning Willys face bright pink, unable to hide a smile at the affection. As Piper turned to leave, she had to quickly jump at the arrival of Lofty yet again. Whom arms were filled with a leather first aid kit, rolling his eyes at the woman who quite nearly flattened him beneath her boots.

“If you could please move to the floor, I’m not risking anything with that lounge.”

Lofty demanded, Looking up at the two remaining men as best he could from behind the first aid case. Willy obeyed and slid down to the floor, sitting crosslegged. His head was feeling very fuzzy now, and he looked up at abacus with whine, wanting him to sit too.

“I think I’ll just sit here if you don’t mind Lad, I don’t think I could get back up from the floor if I sat down”

Abacus chuckled, perching instead on the couch. But still kept a comforting hand on his shoulder, gently massaging back and forth to soothe him. Lofty had been watching the interaction with a raised brow, something was certainly going on. So as he began to unpack some supplies, he bluntly questioned.

“Alright, if I could be informed of what’s going on right here, it would be very much appreciated. I’m quite positive this reaction is far beyond than a child choking on a peanut, especially with those injuries of which still nobody has explained how they came to be.”

He curtly asked, whilst pulling out some bandages, gentian violet and some tweezers for those glass shards. Abacus awkwardly cleared his throat, looking over at Willy whose face had darkened. Although the Oompa Loompa had been residing with him for a while now, his regression was something that he hadn’t yet disclosed with him. Although all his friends had been amazingly supportive and loving, it was still a very peculiar topic to try and explain. Lofty was already quite judgemental most of the time, what if he found this weird and gross?

Willy brought his knees up to his chest anxiously, staying silent in a panic. He didn’t want Lofty to hate him. But he felt a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, Abacus smiling kindly.

“Would you like me to explain?”

He suggested, especially since it seemed the boy wasn’t feeling so verbal right now. Willy looked up and thought about it for a moment, before giving him a nod. He didn’t know how to put his words right for this. All the while Lofty has continued to observe the interaction, shoe tapping on the floor impatiently.

“Alright, i believe you should know regardless as you share a residency with Willy. Sometimes when he gets overwhelmed, Mr Wonka finds it a little hard to stay grown.”

Abacus carefully explained to the little orange man across from him, who frowned in confusion.

“Grown? I can’t see any sign of him shrinking in size, he looked to be the same height as before since I last checked.”

The Oompa Loompa positioned both hands into a viewfinder over the chocolatier, nope, still the same size. Abacus couldn’t help but laugh at the misunderstanding, wishing this could be easier to explain.

“No not in physical size, more like he feels a little younger. Where he needs a little extra care and support, like a child.”

At this point Willy wanted to sink through the floor, not daring to check the Oompa Loompas facial expression. Instead picking at the fabric of his slacks, the small bigger part of him wanted to end this conversation and say that Abacus was just talking utter nonsense, but he didn’t have the energy to do so. He was tired, all he wanted was for his arms to stop hurting and for someone to hold him for a while.

“So what you’re saying that Mr Wonka here regresses to infancy when unsettled?”

Lofty questioned the man, it was difficult to discern his tone. After all, most of the time when he spoke it sounded as if you had offended him in some way. But when he looked at the mannerisms and body language of Willy, he certainly seemed very different than usual.

“Well, when you put it bluntly. Yes you’re correct, but I hope that you won’t be too judgemental. This is something Mr Wonka cannot help, and we shouldn’t be cruel about it.”

Abacus’s voice began to become colder as he finished his sentence, it wasn’t something Willy was used to ever hearing, looking up in slight alarm. Abacus was staring down at the Oompa Loompa almost threateningly, daring him to respond. In response, Lofty snorted after a pause.

“Hm, very peculiar I must say, but I suppose he already acts rather immaturely most of the time regardless.”

Was all he said before completely moving on, returning to prepare the first aid equipment. Acting as if Abacus had just requested he pass the sugar over to him. Both Willy and Abacus were surprised by well, the lack of reaction.

“Now then, please take off that coat show me your arms. I need to know what I’m working with here”

Willy paused for a moment, still expecting some kind of response, insult or anything. But let Abacus carefully ease him out of the blood soaked jacket before displaying his arms outwards, with the Oompa Loompas only sign of disgust so far being directed at the injuries.

“Goodness you’ve made quite the mess of yourself haven’t you?”

Abacus nodded in agreement, before wincing when seeing the state of them properly in the light.

“Indeed, he took a bit of a tumble into one of the displays. One of our crystal chocolate jars paying the price.”

Lofty just sighed, typical Wonka behaviour. He’d never met a person so terminally clumsy sometimes and foolish.

“Of course he did, now I’m going to need you to stay very still. I’m going to remove these glass shards before they get infected.”

He held up the tweezers, Willy shrinking away in alarm at the metal instrument. He didn’t want it to hurt. But Abacus rubbed his back supportively, assuring him it would be fine. As promised, Lofty was impeccably careful as he removed each tiny shard from his arms and hands, his very small hands working in his favour for the task. Back in Loompa land he had a friend whom was the islands herbalist, so he only had some experience when it came to medicine.

He placed each glinting piece into a dish by the table, and once satisfied there was none remaining he reached for the little purple bottle.

“This is an antiseptic I assume?”

Lofty questioned the mathematician, handing the violet bottle up to him. The man pulled a face when reading the label, knowing from experience that this stung viciously.

“Alright, this may sting a little”

It did in fact sting quite a lot, as soon as Lofty applied the purple tonic. Willy yelping and flinching away. The pain had just begun to settle when they’d reached upstairs, but now it felt as if someone had set a match upon his skin. And with how sensitive he was already feeling, fresh tears began to spill over and he did his best to squirm away.

“Now i understand it hurts, but it will feel a lot worse later if you don’t allow me to finish Mr Wonka”

In the end Abacus ended up having to retreat from the couch, Willy positioning himself into his lap for security from the horrible anti-septic. He was perhaps feeling the smallest he ever had, and even with Lofty there he didn’t have the willpower to mask it. Eventually with enough comforting words and support from Abacus, Lofty had successfully painted either arm and hand with the bright purple medicine.

“See, we’re done now. There was no need for that silly nonsense”

Lofty chastised as he screwed the cap on the glass bottle again, but he still didn’t seem very fussed about the dramatic change in headspace. More irritated by what he deemed was a bit of an overreaction. Next reaching for the roll of bandages, but this time Willy was much more reproachful about offering his arms back over to the Oompa Loompa, scowling at him best he could.

“I don’t appreciate that expression directed at me, I was just going to wrap your arms up. Unless of course you would prefer Mr Crunch to do so?”

He spoke with crossed arms, but found the grumpy expression slightly entertaining. Especially with his forlorn tearstained face which worked against his attempt to be threatening.

“I could if you’d prefer, but that would mean i would need to tip you from my lap to do so.”

Abacus explaining his options, thanking heaven above regardless that the man was very light and he was only losing partial blood flow to his legs.

“But you are certainly not welcome in my own, I’ve been in danger of being crushed once too many times today.”

Willy thought about it for moment, finding the embrace around him far too comfortable to give up quite just yet. So reluctantly pointed at lofty rather rudely.

“He do it”

“Can Lofty do it please would be much politer thank you very much”

He corrected with a firm expression, but began to unroll the bandages regardless. Carefully he applied the bandage around each skinny arm, all the while Willy just back leant into Abacus throughout the process. He was so tired, all he wanted was to sleep. By the time Lofty was finished, the boy was practically half asleep.

“That’s you done now, very brave”

Willy dozily inspected his new bound arms, before letting out a big yawn. Even lofty finding it a little endearing, revealing out a small smile before quickly replacing it with his usual frown.

“I think we best get you tucked up for a little rest, shall we?”

Willy nodded, and reluctantly allowed Abacus to tip him off his lap so he could stand again. The poor gentleman groaned in pain as he stood up, he was certainly far too old for this.

“Mm-head hurts”

Wonka mumbled out, his skull feeling as if it had been stuffed with cotton wool. Infact most of his body was starting to feel very sore and weak.

“Well no wonder it hurts with all that silly crying, but I give you permission to return to that lounge. Now that it’s no longer in danger of being stained by bodily fluids.”

Lofty said distastefully, motioning for Willy to get up and move. Kindly Abacus helping him up to his feet again, which was desperately needed as he had forgotten his cane downstairs in the store.

He practically collapsed back down onto the couch, sighing in relief to finally be lying down. His entire body felt as if it had been put through the laundry ringer at scrubbits. A few moments later he felt Abacus tuck a thick blanket around his frame, the one that had been stretched across his bed.

In his dozing state, he instinctively reached out for something. Face screwing up a little when realising it obviously wasn’t going to be there.

“What on earth are you looking for?”

Lofty questioned, clearly seeing the man feeling around in complete thin air.

“Chester”

Willy mumbled out , he was so tired but he still needed his companion, especially right now. Lofty’s slow blink was practically audible, shaking his head before turning to the mathematician who had busied himself with folding up the velvet jacket. Planning on taking it back personally to soak it out, even though he’d left the laundry business, it still stuck with him.

“Would you mind translating what on earth he is requesting?”

Abacus just smiled, remembering that name very clearly. So he just pointed up at the bed, knowing it would he the most likely location.

“Check underneath the pillow of Mr Wonkas bed.”

With a raised eyebrow and a lot of confusion, the Oompa Loompa reluctantly followed the direction. Only feeling more lost when lifting the pillow and finding the contents beneath.

“Is this some kind of rag?”

He held up a small knitted bird with an extended arm, its head lolling to the side rather unsettlingly. Willy spotted the item immediately though, lifting his own head up from the couch with a whine.

“Chester..”

Loftys confused frown remained, able to put together the clues that this amalgamation of wool must be “Chester” Mr Wonka did seem very concerned about it though, so he quickly handed it over to him. The little bird being clung close to his chest, with its misshapen beak poking out under his chin. It was all so ludicrous, it was just a silly inanimate object.

But he saw how the boy began to settle again at its presence. Eyes closing at last as his breathing became slower and deeper. For the first time since he’d seen the man that afternoon, he looked genuinely at peace. From behind him he heard the accountant approaching, who was holding two cups of tea, one being marginally smaller.

“Think we could both do with one”

Lofty accepted the offer, the pair sitting in the kitchenette. Both of them looking over at the now fast asleep chocolatier on the lounge. A comfortable silence between the two as they just took the time to wind down, the scene would probably look extremely strange to an any outsider if they happened to wander inside. Abacus smiled fondly as he noticed the knitted toucans wing being gently chewed on as Wonka slept.

“Thank you, for being understanding about this. This is a part of him that not many know or care to understand, but I believe it’s something very special to be trusted with”

He said to the Oompa Loompa, who had also been observing the chocolatiers behaviour. It was rather fascinating.

“But, I won’t hold it against you if this is a little too strange for you. This manner of coping is certainly unconventional”

He continued, wanting to assure him. He remembered that Noodle had been a little apprehensive about it all when he first explained the regression to her. And Willy had been extremely firm in the fact that he never wanted to be a burden to anybody or make them feel uncomfortable. Lofty stayed silent for a few moments, draining the cup of tea before answering.

“You are speaking with somebody who comes from a tropical island populated only by 2ft tall orange men. I think you would find good reason to label me as a hypocrite if i were to judge Mr Wonka negatively for this.”

He paused in his statement, looking over again at the boy with the smallest of a smile

“Is it a little peculiar? Definitely, but I suppose we all must learn to be open minded when it comes to things we don’t quite understand yet.

And on one hand, I may find it a little endearing too, at least he’s less irritating than usual, aside from all the tears.”

And with that, he turned again to the man across the table. Nonchalant as always.

“Anyways, how about you go hunting for some of those truffles. I’m sure Wonka always hides them out of my reach”

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tagzpite · 11 months

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I’ll see you in a lifetime.

Ganondorf doesn’t know when the blue spectre begun to appear anymore.

All he knows is that he’s perhaps more bothersome than when he bore a beating heart.

Smouldering golden eyes did their best to avoid the icy blue of the ghost. Or is it truly one? The king is unsure. Wishing nothing but to be able to focus on his maps and tracking the movements of the princess. Hoping to somehow reclaim her piece of the Triforce.

He already has Courage after all.

Shallow breaths left a barely lifting chest, a heartbeat so slow. Scarlet blood flowing onto the cold stone in rivers. Colouring golden hair a murky, muddy colour. A poor imitation of the Dark King’s own bright crimson. Ganondorf emerged victorious, the hero unprepared, not truly ready for the confrontation. Eyes the shade of the sky itself so blank, so dull.

An irritated sigh left through dark lips, sharp teeth grit as the large man slammed the pen down onto the table. Blue light illuminating the room. He turned his glare to the perpetrator. Gold meeting blue.

Despite the light, the eyes still look dull. Lifeless. The shattered Master sword held by a pale hand. Once a sun kisses tone.

He’s victorious over Courage. So why does his chest feel so tight? Why are his lungs squeezed ever so tight? Blood drips down his blade; joining the droplets already staining the castle’s floors. He should be feeling nothing but the glory of his success. His final win against a warrior who had emerged to fight time and time again. Life after life. Memory or not.

So why does he feel guilt?

No. He doesn’t. He cannot feel guilt for a decision made in full consciousness. One he made a long time ago. Back when the sound of the Knight’s armor sounded down the halls alongside laughter. Mingling with Ganon’s own, booming note. Moments shared and held over Zelda in a teasing manner as the business of men. Urging rolls of eyes and huffs.

“Alright. Keep your secrets. I have my own!”

He refuses to acknowledge the deep ache. The tightening rope wound around his lungs.

His inkwell had fallen over.

Yet he does not pick the small container up. Instead he opts to watch the ink drip down; staining the papers and the wood, trailing along until they fall to stone tiles.

Blood slowly ran down his blade. Soon to dry. The body still. Link did not stand up. The Zoian arm did not glow, did not stop time nor created machines and weapons never seen before by anyone of Hyrule.

Ganondorf feels numb.

“Why.”

Soft hands slowly pulled knots apart. Fixing the crimson locks that had been spilled over his lap. Here and there brushing against the scalp of the dark skinned man. Sun kissing their skin as the sounds of flipped pages gently interrupted the songs of birds. Horses grazing along the hills. Epona a few ways away.

“Why are you here?”

Armor long abandoned in favour of cotton and leather, the sound of a strangely familiar instrument soothing the Gerudo. The melody strangely haunting yet new.

Link always had a talent for the Ocarina.

“Why must you haunt me?!”

If anyone had been alerted by the sounds of a table meeting the ground, bottles shattered and papers flying through the air, they did not come to interrupt the king within his his study. Teeth grit Ganondorf’s chest heaved with heavy breaths. Sucking a breath in before straightening up. Watching as the apparition walked by. Eyes still numb. Still dull. The only difference between him and his corpse the lack of a gash through his chest. A dark skinned hand very nearly raised itself towards the voe. Stopping halfway as Link disappeared.

He does not feel guilt. His heart does not ache. He does not long for something that could have been.

He is a liar.

“Until next life.”

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summertimemusician · 7 months

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Linktober Day 9

Deity

*sneezes after downing coffee* Well irl stuff got in the way so I'm way behind my original schedule for these and for Linktober but here we go with another arguably short one, fuelled purely by self indulgence, headcanons, spite against my linguist essays that kept me from keeping to schedule, severe sleep deprivation, a shout out to the Ender Lilies soundtrack and Majora's Mask soundtrack, and Nintendo for not clarifying anything about the lore so I'm snatching what I can and making it my own lol. Look, when you fíxate so much on details the Zelda team doesn't elaborate on you have to fill in the gaps with what you can.

As always can be read as romantic or platonic, technically in a LU context but not explicitly in it by itself.

The Lord of the Mountain liked hearing people sing.

In a way, it wasn’t a surprise, Hylia and the Golden Three each had their ballads and symphonies and minuets, each splendid and with cuts of their divinity in it, Farore was fond of lightning and forest alive minuets, and you could swear Farosh sparked just a bit brighter when one would him the beginnings of the Minuet of the Forest near their spring, Din was fond of boleros, fiery and alive and howling with the echo of flame touching earth that made a shine run through Dinraal’s scales, Nayru, in contrast, was much fonder of blizzard and river quiet serenades, the songs of contemplation at first snow ringing clear when Naydra curled around it’s spring, content to be free of Malice.

And of course Hylia had her ballads and lullabies, perfectly fitting to her display of divinity, of honey days and vast bird like wings, of ambered summers to come and to pass and dazzling solar storms of starlight and sunlight sparking through the human form of her descendants and heroes. So in a way, you weren’t surprised at all that the Lord of the Mountain – Satori, with a familiar touch of londsleite divinity, the hunt of the woodland beasts and diamondscar adoration for the Hero of the Wilds, similar in glory to the Light Spirits petrichor and vermeil fondness for the Hero of the Twilight – liked to listen to people sing. What you were surprised was how it attempted to follow along, it’s head across your lap the second you sat down in the clearing, a gentle hum on back of it’s throat, an owl’s cry and a cicada’s humming and faintly, chirring purring as presses it’s faces into your hands, a gentle request for petting.

It was adorable, even with the faint notes of the chill of clear spring water on winter and the livewire feeling of magic, like holding your hand too close to a flame but not quite touching it.

A low chuckle brushes against the back of your mind, a feeling like biting on ice, the prowl of a wild beast and the build up of lightning and light used to create his blade, the amused affection of a warrior reconvening with their brother in arms, you think you see the bone ivory of the Deity’s hair on the side of your vision, though you know he’s not physically there, ‘He likes you.’

You hum, gently patting behind it’s ears, pushing through the chill, gracefully not mentioning the burning with a smile at the mythic being’s faint chirring, birdsong and the wind through cherry blossoms that sparkle like rose quartz, “Well I quite like him too, I can see where it’s gentleness comes from.”

The ghost of a touch over your hair, the caress of lightning striking over your skin and the hair on the back of your neck pricking up and the crisp cold of winter, the chill of the ending and the flame of a new dawn, of new days, the phantom of magnolias and spring water on your tongue. The fragrance of pine, daffodils and blood soaked lilies on ashen fields on your senses, gentle and careful, marking but not claiming, ‘Only because it’s you, beloved. It’s not something easily given.’

You sigh, shakily composing yourself, you let yourself relax into the phantom sensation. Of hopes and dreams and healed suffering, of the divinity of hunt turned into protection and lightning given form, of tangled timelines and crystalized memories, “I know. It does not change my opinion, either way.”

To be the subject of a god’s care and regard was dangerous, after all. For the human and the deity in question, you know the stories from your world well, of the effects of Hylia on First and Sky, of Twilight and the personification of the Twilight Realm and the spirits of his land, of Wild and clawing from death’s embrace into that of the wilderness.

Knew how the fact the Fierce Deity’s mere proximity causing pain on those who changed him into hunting for hunt’s sake into protection for the sake of someone else cut deeper than even the ever encroaching entropy all beings must one day face. It was no wonder the Song of Healing was his creation, to want to ease the burden.

You gladly grant him some peace, in turn, even if it wasn’t much. It’s the least you can do, for always having his ways of watching over your heroes.

“Join me? We can make a duet.”

You feel more than see him shift, ephemeral, fleeting, gentle against the edges of your existence, as foreign to Hyrule as your own, sparking over your spine as you feel ozone and rust on your teeth. Satori is humming again to match the rumble of thunder in the man’s voice, the heralding of songs of war and elegies for the dead, ‘Of course, though I’m afraid I do not know many songs, besides…’

“It’s alright,”, you smile faintly, there’s a white ocarina in his hands, as he leans, a spectre against your side, “I’ll teach you some of my own, though you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember all the lyrics.”

‘It would be my honor to learn.’

You think he smiles, from the fluttering of something ancient and long forgotten against your side.

You sing to Satori and the Chain, a small respite of familiar and forgotten tunes, the Lord of the Mountain hums along. The Fierce Deity’s song cutting through any nightmares that may ail your heroes for another night.

When the dawn of a new day comes, the feeling of divinity against your skin feels just a bit more obvious, sinking into every crack of your being like a shroud, falling over your boys like a veil, reflecting the breath of eternity over Hyrule.

(First gives you a look that’s half exasperation, half understanding. Sky pointedly sticks to your side as Time looks you over, markings deep with vibrant color. You shrug with a helpless smile as you feel the lightest brushes of Hylia’s fond days of gold and starlit summers days against the Lord of the Mountains warm, luminous affection and the Fierce Deity’s smug, but content lonsdaleite smile.)

#linked universe x reader #fierce deity x reader #is this after Majora?#Is Fierce Deity really there or just manifesting due to being fond of Reader and living in their head rent free?#Is Hylia jealous because she couldn't stake a claim first?#Did he create Satori in this?#That's for future Summer to know and y'all to find out lol. Though this does reference the theory he's the one who sealed Majora #The divinity of Hyrule changes people the closer they are to it #Fierce Deity is both a warrior/demon god and the hopes and dreams of the people of Termina and that duality is fascinating in this essay-#Really I believe that Fierce Deity doesn't mean to harm his users or people who aren't enemies #But the Eldritch Vibes ™ are so much even when he's toning it down it's a slippery slope #Good thing Reader is a divinity magnet just from proximity to the Chain and can put it aside #Plus Time putting on the mask as either Sprite/Mask change the FD as much as he changed him and same for First and Hylia #summer writes linktober 2023 #summer writes #maybe I'll add more tags or elaborate later idk I need a nap and to work on the other prompts

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warrioreowynofrohan · 2 months

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Silmarillion Daily - Of the Birth of Lúthien

Now as has been told the power of Elwë and Melian increased in Middle-earth, and all the Elves of Beleriand, from the mariners of Círdan to the wandering hunters of the Blue Mountains beyond the River Gelion, owned Elwë as their lord; Elu Thingol he was called, King Greymantle, in the tongue of his people. They are called the Sindar, the Grey-elves of starlit Beleriand; and although they were Moriquendi, under the lordship of Thingol and the teaching of Melian they became the fairest and the most wise and skillful of all the Elves of Middle-earth.

And at the end of the first age of the Chaining of Melkor, when all the Earth had peace and the glory of Valinor was at its noon, there came into the world Lúthien, the only child of Thingol and Melian. Though Middle-earth lay for the most part in the Sleep of Yavanna, in Beleriand under the power of Melian there was life and joy, and the bright stars shone as silver fires; and there in the forest of Neldoreth Lúthien was born, and the white flowers of niphredil came forth to greet her as stars from the earth.

The niphredil that bloom at Lúthien’s birth are the first flowers in Middle-earth! During the Ages of the Lamps, in the Spring of Arda, the Silmarillion says: As yet no flower had bloomed or any bird had sung, for these things waited still their time in the bosom of Yavanna.

At some time after the destruction of the Lamps, the Silmarillion says, Yavanna set a sleep upon many things that had arisen in the Spring [of Arda], so that they should not age, but should wait for a time of awakening that yet should be.

As far as I can tell, the first mention of songbirds in Middle-earth seems to be when Melian goes there, shortly after the Awakening of the Elves. In Valinor, Nightingales were always with her, and she taught them their song, and when she came to Middle-earth, she filled the silence of Middle-earth before the dawn with her voice and the voices of her birds. So it seems very thematic, after the line about their being no songbirds or flowers yet during the Ages of the Lamps, that even in darkness, somgbirds come to Middle-earth with Melian and flowers with Lúthien. It feels to me like another sign that the Ainur belonged in Middle-earth - that even one of them choosing to live there and make it a home brings new beauty - and that isolating themselves in Valinor was not the ideal choice.

On an entirely different note, I find it helpful to remember how old Lúthien is - only 10 years younger than Fingolfin, and older than Finarfin - and that there are 300 years between her birth and the Girdle of Melian going up. She has not lived solely in the forests of Doriath for her entire life! She (and Thingol and Melian) have probably been all over Beleriand during that time.

(The birth dates of Fingolfin, and of the other Finwëans for whom we have birth dates, are the only events I’ve added to Silmarillion Daily that aren’t text from The Silmarillion. I added them in from History of Middle-earth because I felt they were useful context.)

#tolkien #the silmarillion #luthien #thingol #melian #silmarillion daily

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actual-bill-potts · 9 months

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Lúthien’s fëa slipped from the world at last, and she entered utter darkness.

The Halls of Mandos were vast, and quiet, and still. Almost Lúthien turned and fled; but there was nowhere to flee to. She could feel, distantly, that there might be comfort here in the darkness and stillness. She was tired. She had passed through so many trials with her husband only to lose him long before his time. Could she not rest?

Her spirit curled in within herself. It was warm here.

But Beren was not with her. She did not wish to sleep alone. She moved. She had no feet with which to step, and no eyes with which to see; nonetheless she moved forward and searched the darkness.

There was nothing. Nothing all around. She was floating; she was sinking; she was utterly still. Did it matter, here at the end of things? Did she matter? Did Beren?

He had mattered. He had mattered to her. He had opened his brown eyes into hers and she had thrilled to the undying death in his eyes: she who had danced when the world was young longed for his fleetness. She had wept for him; she had thrown down her crown for him.

She would find him. But Mandos was so vast.

Where is he? her spirit cried.

There was no answer from the dark.

He cannot be gone! Lúthien thought. He cannot.

But despair began to drag upon the edges of her spirit, a river rushing past her.

Suddenly a tower reared up ahead. It was tall and white and gleaming, and the sound of the Sea was all about it. It seemed somehow familiar.

"Beren?" Lúthien whispered with the voiceless voice of her fëa. "Beren!"

Before her the great gates of the tower swung open. A flood of light and darkness intermingled wrapped itself about her fëa; and she felt something akin to awe.

May I enter? she thought.

Sea-breeze and bells in the sunlight wrapped themselves about her. Then a presence, and a voiceless voice: Come in and be welcome, cousin.

Finrod’s voice in Doriath had been clear and ringing and merry, laughter and song his constant companions. Now, in the utter stillness of death, there was no sound to be heard; and his presence was not - happy.

Nonetheless there was something about the thoughts which had impressed themselves upon Lúthien’s spirit which was unmistakably Finrod. A purity of love; a wellspring of grief which had been totally alien to the Lúthien who had danced beneath the canopy of Doriath with her cousin.

Now she knew.

She hesitated before the pearly doors. Finrod’s skin had been white as bone when Lúthien had washed his body: the tale of weeks in the utter dark. The tower before her was - not that, but there was something in its tall lonely grandeur that frightened and reminded her.

You are welcome, Finrod repeated. And so is your lover.

Lúthien gathered her courage and willed herself into the entrance hall. As she crossed the threshold there was a - shift, a change; and her next step forward carried her body with her.

She halted in wonder. “What has happened?”

The stones rumbled beneath her, as in laughter. This is a place of memory. This is how you see yourself.

Lúthien looked down at her hands, graceful and long-fingered; felt her face; then she spun herself about. Her hair flew about her, shadowy and silken: waves and waves of it!

“My hair,” she whispered. “It never grew back.”

It was beautiful, said the tower.

“Yes; but the cloak I wove from it was more beautiful still,” said Lúthien, and felt the heavy weight of her hair disappear.

I wish I had seen it, said Finrod sadly.

Luthien placed one hand upon the wall; felt the warmth of living stone. “I missed you,” she said aloud, and gloried in her voice. “Cousin.”

The tower trembled for an instant about her.

“Where are you?” said Luthien. A thought occurred to her, and her lips quirked. “Unless this is how you see yourself. I do not think I would have liked to dance with a building in Menegroth.”

There was a pause. It is not, at last came the sighing of the sea. Beren is at the top of the tower.

That had not been Lúthien’s question; but at the name of her spouse all other thoughts flew out of her head. She stepped forward, searching for a way up.

At the end of the hall there is a door, and beyond that door is a stairwell, said Finrod, sounding a little amused.

Luthien darted for the door, and flew up the first flights of stairs. Then she was obliged to stop and rest, for her remembered-thighs began to burn with exertion. She leaned over, panting.

“I do not wish to remember this,” she complained aloud.

A pause. Suffering, alas, is part of life.

“I know,” said Lúthien, annoyed. “You needn’t moralize.” Then she froze. “I am sorry,” she said. “You suffered much.”

I have been told I talk too much, as well, the bannister mused under her fingertips. There is no need for apology. A touch of amusement. I have missed you as well, onórë.

Lúthien smiled; then she resumed her climb. As she stepped upwards she sang; breathlessly at first, then with more power. The sound was odd to her ears, deader and hollower than she had expected. After a moment she realized the strangeness: there was no echo. A long empty stairway, and not even her voice would reply to her.

She sent a questioning sort of thought towards the walls which should have been reverberating with sound; and after a moment she heard, hollowly, This place was never empty in my memories. I do not know how emptiness should sound.

“What place is this?” asked Lúthien, feeling as though she should remember.

A home that I built, groaned the stones, which is lost to me.

“I am sorry,” said Lúthien. She knelt down; pressed one hand to the stairs beneath her feet. They were worn smooth by the passage of many Elves. “Will you sing with me?”

A sigh that rustled her short curls. I will try.

Lúthien smiled to herself, and raised her voice again. After a moment there was a rumbling about her, and a sighing. Stone and sea; sea and stone echoed about her.

Suddenly above her there came an answering voice, thin and wavering.

“I praise the stars of silver-white

Who make Tinúviel’s mantle glow

I praise the silver moon alight

Who sets her hair ashine with silver

I praise the river-water bright

Who makes the forest-daughter shine…”

Beren had hummed this to her many a time, in their happy days in Doriath. First shyly, roughly, to a tune from his childhood; then loudly, teasingly, as she blushed and danced into his waiting arms. Then again, when she had come to rescue him from the terrible tower; and again, quietly, hoarsely, without seeing her, before he had -

She pushed the thought away. He was here now.

“Beren!” she called, running again, and heard the song choke off.

“Tinúviel?” she heard.

“Beren!” she called. “Beren, I am coming -”

She reached the top of the stair and burst into a room full of light. She stopped for a moment, dazed. There was the Sun pouring in through the windows; there was a brisk breeze, and the smell of flowers opening. Her eyes, which had become accustomed to the dim light of the stairwell, began to water.

Then she saw him.

Beren was sitting on the windowsill, legs dangling. He looked - he looked -

Young.

He had never looked so young! But now he was beardless, brown-haired, bright-eyed. He had two hands. She had never seen him like this.

He turned to face her, face lit by the sun, and her legs remembered how to move again as she rushed forward.

“Tinúviel!” Beren exclaimed joyfully. He leapt from the window and rushed into her embrace. The warmth of him, solid and whole, pressed against her chest and she blinked back tears. When she opened her eyes again Beren’s hair again gleamed like thistledown.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

“And I you,” said Beren, stepping back and pressing his forehead to hers. Then he stopped. “But - how came you here? How - did you -” Horror began to paint itself over his newly-lined features.

“I followed you,” said Lúthien. “I always will. Have you not learned this by now? You were, after all, waiting for me.”

Awe and tenderness, grief and regret chased each other across Beren’s face; and at the interplay of those familiar emotions, so alive and so human, Lúthien buried her face again in his shoulder.

“How came you here?” she murmured against his neck.

“I know not,” said Beren. He hesitated. “I tried to wait, as you commanded; but there was nothing I could hold onto. I flew through the blackness. I was falling. I cried out for help, and then - I was here.”

Lúthien leaned again against the wall. “Thank you, cousin,” she said.

I could not do otherwise, came the rushing of the river outside the window. I only sorrow that you both came so soon.

At the voice Beren started. “Finrod?” he breathed.

Greetings, Beren, came the voice. I am glad of your company.

Beren knelt. “Thank you,” he said roughly. “Again you have saved one who is undeserving of it.”

The sunlight dimmed. Not undeserving! I can think of no one more worthy of my life.

Lúthien thought of the warm enveloping darkness outside. She thought of how, when she stepped outside the tower, she would become pure spirit again. She thought of Beren’s hand slipping from her grasp again.

“How did you do it?” she said aloud. “How did you grasp hold of his spirit?”

Beren frowned at her, puzzled; but the stones shifted and warmed a little under her feet.

The Eldar are creatures of memory, said Finrod, and though his voice was carried by the sighing of wind through stone it somehow managed to settle into a lecturing tone. In us is preserved the memory of all else that dies. Stories, history, culture: We Who Speak can make these things new. All this to say that our memories of others are a powerful thing. I heard Beren cry out; and I awoke. All I had to do was - embody a memory, and he could rest within it.

“What memory is this?” asked Beren. “It is lovely.”

Silence for a moment; the stone seemed to press in on them. Then the sound of bells resumed outside the walls. It was lovely once. I have made it lovely again for you. But there is only one memory that I could find within myself.

Luthien frowned, puzzled. But Beren’s fists clenched. “You did not trap yourself within your own death for me. Tell me you did not.”

Beren’s hair was ruffled by the wind. I am not trapped. When you leave I will sleep again in peace.

“Where are you?” demanded Beren.

It does not matter. Lúthien needs only to take your hand and embody a memory of her own.

Beren’s jaw firmed. “I will not leave till I see you.”

There is no need, came from the shifting of stones against each other; but Beren was already striding toward the stairs. Lúthien slipped her hand into his as they began to descend, and he shot her a grateful look.

The descent was much darker than the ascent, to Lúthien’s eyes. Beren stumbled often, and leaned on her. But his hand was warm in hers, and they reached the great entrance hall without trouble. Beren led them unhesitatingly then to another stairwell and wrenched open the door.

But at the base of these stairs Lúthien froze in horror. She recognized them. After she had cast down Sauron’s tower and scattered it to the winds, still there had been a stairway down. She had descended in hope and there fallen into despair. And her joy when Beren awoke from his stupor was mingled with grief for his terrible suffering, and horror at the fate of Finrod and his companions.

At least there had been a body to lay to rest, for her cousin. Of the others there had been naught left but bones; but she had gathered all up gently, with the help of many of those released, and they had buried everything they could find under a green hill in the wind.

“Cousin,” she said aloud, “why here? I do not want to be here.”

A sigh that echoed throughout the hall. This is the only form I can remember. But you do not need to see. Leave, and I will sleep again in peace.

Almost Lúthien did. Finrod would sleep, cradled in the warm darkness of the Halls, and he would heal in time. There was no point in reliving something so terrible.

But Beren set his jaw and began to descend; and Lúthien could not but follow.

Down, down they went, into a maze of twisting passageways. All was utterly dark, and Lúthien would soon have been lost had it not been for Beren’s hand on her arm, unerringly guiding her through the blackness. How he knew the path, she could guess, a little. The thought made her want to weep.

There was growling, off to their left, deep and terrible. The sound sent a frisson of fear through her, and beside her Beren tensed miserably. She remembered what he had faced, and anger chased away the fear.

“There are no wolves here!” she cried aloud. “I cast down this tower, and I threw out all that was evil inside it; and valiant Huan killed every wolf-coward that dared creep out to meet us. Cousin, this tower is clean again, and the stars shine upon this place.”

There was stillness in the air then; and Lúthien found that suddenly she could see Beren, to her right, outlined faintly in silver. She smiled to herself.

“Beloved Tinúviel,” said Beren shakily, “thank you. I owe you - so much. Far more than I could ever repay.”

“Then do not try,” said Lúthien, “and give me your love only; for that is what I want from you, not repayment nor sorrow.”

Beren said nothing, but his face lightened, and his head leant briefly against Lúthien’s shoulder.

Then they rounded a corner, and Lúthien sank into wetness up to her ankle. She recoiled.

Beren beside her was frozen. “There was not this much blood,” he murmured. “Surely there was not this much blood.”

Slowly, reluctantly, Lúthien looked down in the faint light. It was indeed blood on the floor: a wash of it, black and red mingled together horribly. She sucked in a sharp breath and stepped closer to Beren, clutching his hand.

“Don’t let go,” said Beren, pleadingly. He was swaying.

“Never,” said Lúthien.

Together they stepped forward. The blood crept up Lúthien’s shins; it stained her skirts and her cloak; it eddied about her with every step in a terrible parody of affection.

As they continued across the darkly starlit room Lúthien became aware of a whisper in the motion of the liquid about her feet. Aran, it said quietly, help us. Aran, save us. We are drowning.

Tears were running down Beren’s cheeks. They rippled into the blood, one by one.

Lúthien stopped, sick at heart. “You need not continue,” she said. “Go up. You are free.”

“Not without you,” said Beren stubbornly. “And not without - saying goodbye.”

A distant rumble from the ceiling. You have said goodbye already. Be free, Beren. Go with your love.

“I shall not,” said Beren; and again he stepped forward.

Suddenly there was a sharp crunch beneath Lúthien’s feet. She knew what it was before even looking down; she had heard this noise in Angband. She took a steadying breath and looked down to confirm.

The white of bone glinted under faint stars. It stared up at her, accusing.

Grief washed over Lúthien, for her cousin who was suffering so and for the brave Eldar who had died so terribly. But -

“There are no longer bones down in the dark,” she said, willing all the power of life that was her birthright into her voice. “We gathered them up and laid them to rest. They are asleep under the stars and the trees, and their spirits are safe in Mandos.”

Another moment of stillness; then the glinting of bone under blood became duller and duller, and finally, rippling, faded away.

They went on.

The cell in which Lúthien had at last found Beren had been large: large enough that - as Beren told her later, haltingly - twelve could be chained without the comfort of touch. But it had not been this vast. They walked forward into a river of blood that went on and on. The coolness of it against Lúthien’s ankles felt like hands, grasping, pleading. Aran, they said, we followed you. We trusted you. Our king.

But finally it receded. Now there was only dirty stone floor, dried blood and the stench of misery. Lúthien shook out her skirts and shuddered as drops of blood spattered beside her. It reminded her too much of when - of when -

No. Beren was here, beside her. She squeezed his hand. Tears were still running down his cheeks.

“I love you,” she said, without reason.

“And I you,” said Beren; and when he looked into her eyes there was that same wild spark that had, years ago, pierced her through.

There was more light here; and in the corner a glint of gold. There was the rasp of breathing. All else had gone silent.

Beren moved first, rushing into the corner and falling to his knees next to the white of a body. Behind him Lúthien froze.

This was how she had found him, in the dungeon. She had thought he was dead. Then she had seen Finrod’s face, still and bloodied, and she had grieved.

Reluctantly she stepped forward. She did not want to see it. She did not want to see how her cousin had suffered.

But Beren was there, shoulders stiff, grief carved into every line of him.

She came and knelt beside him.

Finrod was lying on his back, one arm beneath him, the other flung out as if desperately trying to reach for - something. He was naked, hair tangled about him in thick dark clumps, the color barely visible under the black of dirt and blood. His chest was flayed open; one cheekbone was broken; his right leg was broken so badly it barely hung together.

These things had been true when Lúthien had found him; but then his spirit had fled. It had been only a body that she had carried up the stairs into the light, only a body with wounds that she could close and cover as best as she could, and hair that she could wash before she and Beren laid him into the grave that been prepared.

Now blood was oozing out of her cousin’s chest in sluggish pulses with every rasping breath he took; his legs were trembling and jerking in pain; his ruined fingers were twitching as he reached out.

“Cousin,” said Lúthien, “I am sorry,” and felt her own tears begin to fall.

Something shifted in the air; some point of awareness seemed to - withdraw, from the floor and the walls; and then Finrod opened his eyes.

“Do not be sorry,” he said, in a voice that was quieter than Lúthien had ever heard from him. “It is only the memory of pain.”

“The memory of pain,” said Lúthien, thinking of how she had seen nothing but Beren’s lifeless face beneath her before she had laid her own body down, “is a pain in itself. Can we not help you?”

“I cannot remember anything else,” said Finrod wearily. His eyes closed again.

Beside her Beren was shaking. “Finrod,” he said. “Nóm. Friend of our people. You have given too much. I should have fled the Guarded Plain. I should not have entangled you into my doom.”

“Say not so!” said Finrod. “I was glad. Even dying I was glad. I did not want to see you fall before me. I am only sorry that I failed you.”

“You did not fail me!” said Beren. “Your Oath is fulfilled, and more than fulfilled. You did not fail me. You - I -” and then he was weeping too hard to speak.

Lúthien felt a great wave of anger roar through her. All Beren’s suffering - all her own suffering - and even in death would it not end? Betrayed, cast out, hunted down; maimed, wounded, bereaved; her mother silent, her father guilty, her cousin��s kingdom shadowed; and now could she not heal even this?

“Finrod,” she said, “this is not all you are. This is not all you were. There was grief, there was suffering; was there not also joy? Was there not love?”

Finrod shuddered. Another rasping breath; another thick ooze of blood leaked to the ground by his side. “There was love,” he said. “There was joy. But it all comes to nothing. Sauron showed me that. He took my song of beauty and cracked it in half. He pinned my spirit to the world I had loved and made it hateful. Now I only wish to sleep. I am glad you have found Beren; I am glad I was here to help. Once released from my oath, I shall rest again and there will be oblivion.”

“It does not all come to nothing,” said Lúthien. Beren’s head was a trembling weight upon her arm. “I saw light enter Beren’s eyes under the moonlight, and I saw it leave as his spirit was thrown out. Was our joy nothing? You and I, we danced in friendship in the glades of my home. Was that nothing, though we have both fled the world? Flowers bloom in Menegroth, and birds sing; you have told me of how the great ocean crashes against Barad Nimras; are these nothing? Even now there is starlight, here in the depths of Mandos, brought here by your memory. That is not nothing.”

“I cannot reach it,” said Finrod. In his voice there was nothing but a great weariness. “I cannot see it.”

“Then let me see it for you!” said Lúthien. Hardly knowing what she did, she reached out her hand. “Take my hand, cousin. We will dance as we did in Menegroth. We will show Beren the grandeur of the court!”

“I cannot move,” said Finrod. Another rattling breath. “My strength was spent in one last defiance. There is nothing left for more.”

“This is not defiance,” said Lúthien. “This is love.”

“Well-named you were, Daughter of Love!” said Finrod. “But I still - cannot.”

“Then I will help,” said Beren, reaching out. Gently he took Finrod’s mangled hand in his own, curling his fingers about the bloodied palm. “This was all I wished to do,” he said, “there in the dungeon. I only wanted to bring comfort. Please let me.”

Finrod half-smiled. It was a crooked thing; but it was there. “I cannot deny you,” he said. “All the people of Bëor - I cannot deny any of you.”

Gently Beren guided his hand into Lúthien’s. Finrod’s fingers were tacky and cool against Lúthien’s; but she threaded her fingers through his and remembered, with all her might, their happy times in her home. She had taken his hand often, dragging him up the pillars of Menegroth to stare at the stars; pulling him into an embrace as he left with heavy steps after his brother’s outburst; whirling him onto the dance floor, black and gold outshining even Galadriel and Celeborn’s silver-gold blur.

“Can you not remember?” she whispered again. “There was happiness! You told me that flowers sprang up beneath your feet as you stepped off the Ice; that after Morgoth’s lies there could yet be friendship and love between the First- and Secondborn. You told me the story of Fingon and Maedhros, and of Finduilas’ birth, and how at her first cry all the lanterns in Nargothrond leaped brighter. By your actions I passed from death to life when Beren opened his eyes into mine in Sauron’s terrible tower. Do not tell me now that there is no hope. I do not believe it!”

Finrod’s fingers pressed against hers. There was starlight all around.

“You are right, cousin,” he said.

“Then dance with me!” said Lúthien. “Dance in this place of death!”

A final moment of stillness; then suddenly the faint silver light turned gold, and Finrod was on his feet.

“I will dance with you indeed,” he said, “but not in Menegroth! I will show you Nargothrond, where my greatest joy lay. We shall dance in the great hall; and you will see the hospitality I should have shown.”

Lúthien looked about her; and indeed she recognized the hall in which they now stood. She had been here before, but it had been dark and quiet, Orodreth a sad and weary presence in the shadows. Now it was gold-lit and green-wreathed.

She looked back at Finrod. He was gold crowned in silver, one of his hands meeting hers, the other folded behind his back. His face was grave, still blood-streaked; but he bowed very properly.

Lúthien curtsied back. “We still need music!” she said laughing; and Beren behind her began to hum in his deep voice: a simple song of his people. Then the tenor of his voice changed; threatened to break into laughter. He began to add words.

“I praise the stars of silver-white

Who make Tinúviel’s mantle glow…”

Lúthien blushed; but Finrod laughed, a little, and released her to twirl about.

“Come, then, Son of Bëor,” he said, sweeping down to Beren and pulling him to his feet. “Dance with the Daughter of Love. I will sing for you.”

Beren stepped obediently into Lúthien’s arms; and at the warm and solid weight of him Lúthien’s breath caught. His eyes looked into hers; his reddened lips parted; his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“You,” said Lúthien, “you -”

She could not finish; but Beren seemed to understand. Behind them Finrod’s deep voice rose.

“Sing all ye joyful, now sing all together!

The wind’s in the tree-top, the wind's in the heather;

The stars are in blossom, the moon is in flower,

And bright are the windows of Night in her tower…”

Beren and Lúthien whirled and whirled about the golden room; they whirled into the green clearing where Lúthien’s own happiest memory was; and when they came to a halt the tower was gone. Yet faint sea-bells rang about them still.

Farewell, onórë, came Finrod’s voice, clear as if he had whispered into her ear. I think I will not see you again; but I rejoice in your freedom.

The touch of a hand, pressed gently over where Lúthien’s fingers were still twined with Beren’s. Be happy.

“I will,” said Lúthien, “if you will.”

The light about them brightened briefly; then the two lovers stood alone in a memory of Doriath. Lúthien drew in a deep breath.

“Lord of Mandos,” she cried. “I wish to treat with thee.”

#finrod #luthien #beren #leithian brainrot as always #silm fic #my writing #the silmarillion

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perpetualproductions · 17 days

Text

Never Be The Same - Chapter 1:

Me and My Friends Are Lonely

- It's been a couple days since shit went down at Godolkin. The four lay low in one of Andres many properties in the city. What now?

(Title song: Me and My Friends Are Lonely by Matt Maeson)

3.4k words

CW: (small) mention of smoking/drug use. The normal amount of swearing. They make out, but nothing explicit.

Masterlist | Next->

“Godolkin University. Oh, how the mighty fall. The once prestigious number one supe school in America, brought down by radical supes and a Dean with a hidden agenda. Indira Shetty, former behavioral scientist and the last Dean of Godolkin, who turned out to be an anti-supe and anti-vought radicalist. Using her prior scientific knowledge and position of power over students, she groomed and manipulated these supes to kill their own kind. Lives of both humans and supes were lost in the tragic conquest of the foreign terrorist that is Indira Shetty. But do not fear, as our very own homelander had flown in and saved the day, taking down the terrorists and escorting all of the remaining students and faculty to safety. It will take some time to rebuild Godolkin and restore it to its former glory due to the aftermath of the incident, But worry not, for with the help of Vought, young supes all over the country can now attend colleges up to the most prestigious levels. Supe students are able to study any major, including supe specific majors such as crime fighting and more! Vought, once again, doing the right thing and making sure our kids stay educated. And with that, I’m Cameron Coleman coming at you from Vought News. Goodnight Amer-”

The television shuts off once the news story comes to an end. Jordan tosses the remote back onto the couch, letting out a huff as they run their hands through their hair, messing up the perfect curls of their bob as they do. They resume pacing back and forth behind the couch where Marie and Emma currently sit. Andre sits in the armchair situated on the left side of the room and stares at the dark tv screen, still trying to process everything that has been going on the past few days. They are all currently in one of Andre’s Dad’s many Apartments in New York. Apparently they didn’t use this one very often, being not nearly as extravagant as some of his other penthouses over on the upper-east side, but it was perfect for the four of them to lie low in while they dealt with all that transpired over the last couple of days. Andre had offered the idea of staying at one of his places when Marie mentioned that they had nowhere to go now that Godolkin is no more. She definitely didn't want to go back to Red River, where they'd probably send her straight to Elmira. Emma said that she could stay with her, but Emma wasn't too excited to go back home herself. Jordan had also decided to take up Andre's offer for similar reasons.

So there they were. Sitting around the living room in silence, not sure what to say to each other after watching that broadcast. Empty pizza boxes and soda cans littered the coffee table in front of them. Since the Andersons rarely used this place, the fridge was empty, so they decided to order food for the time being. No one was comfortable enough to go grocery shopping yet. They've all basically isolated themselves inside the apartment for the last four days, the shock and trauma of past events holding them in place. But they all spent the time comforting each other. They all went through the same thing so it only made sense. They've talked separately and as a group, confiding in each other for the time being. The uncertainty of the future weighing heavy on them all.

“That's it. I need a smoke.” Andre pushes himself up and goes searching through the drawers in the adjacent kitchen.

Jordan shakes their head as they yell back to Andre, “No. We need to talk first. I'd appreciate it if you were at least a bit fucking sober for this conversation.”

“Plus, there are no cigarettes left…I already checked.” Jordan mumbles that last part.

“Dammit. Fine.” Andre begrudgingly walks over and plops back into his previous spot. “But you owe me a pack when we're done.”

Jordan shakes their head before walking around the couch and standing in front of the TV. They take a breath, but Emma begins to speak before Jordan gets the chance.

“Well, looks like Vought blamed all that shit on Shetty. And sure it's not 100% accurate, but it's better than nothing, right?” Emma looks between the three of them for a response.

Marie sighs, turning left to face Emma. “I don't know, They still got away with it. Nobody knows about the woods or the virus-”

“-And not a single fucking mention of Cate or Sam.” Jordan jumps in, hatred clear in their voice as they say the name of their ex-friend.

Everyone in the room pauses for a second at the mention of their names. They still had no idea what happened to them before they were escorted off campus. Marie had tried to tell Homelander about what Cate had done, but he just stared at her with his cold dead eyes, quickly flashing red before huffing and flying away. If Marie didn't know better, she was almost certain that was a threat on her life. And if all those people hadn’t been there, then she'd be a pile of ash by now. Further solidifying the whole ‘nothing is as it seems’ revelation.

“Yeah… but, on the bright side, it looks like we're in the clear. None of our names were mentioned either. We at least don't have to hide anymore.” Emma's words grow more uncertain as she continues, the last words being mumbled.

“You're right.” Jordan shifts to their male form, gaining a few inches in height and crosses their arms. “But we still need to be careful. If Vought knows that we knew about the fucking woods, then we could still have targets on our backs. They could be watching us. Watching our every fucking move to make sure we don't spill anything.”

“But wouldn't they have done something by now? I mean sure, they might not expect an apartment in the middle of Brooklyn, but it's Vought. If they wanted to find us, don't you think they would have by now?” Andre retorts. Emma was right. They didn't even mention any wanted supes or anything. So they should be fine.

Jordan sighs as they shake their head, “I don't-”

“No.” Marie interrupts. “No, they're right, Jordan. I agree that we should still be careful, but it's almost been a week and we can't stay locked up here forever. If Vought wanted to find us, they would. And it's not like we could fucking stop them either. Definitely not if we stay in New York. But you heard the news report, we have a second chance. A second fucking chance to go to school and finish our education so we can actually do something with our lives. And I don't know about you but second chances don't come by often for me. I need to go to college and get a degree if I want a chance at a life that doesn't include being locked up for the foreseeable future. I can't do any good from here. We can't do any good if we stay here.”

Marie takes a breath.

“If we want to make a change and help people, then we need to go out and do it.” She stares directly into Jordan's eyes as she says this. Jordan wasn't planning to fight Marie on this anyway, but they were done for the second their eyes locked. Those beautiful damn eyes. They're not quite sure how they feel about the effect she has on them yet, but they hope they have time to find out.

“Fine.” Is all Jordan can manage to say as they tear their eyes away from Marie's. Jordan checks the time on the wall clock, “It's late. We can continue tomorrow. I'm going to bed.” Jordan speaks in a flat tone, walking off to their temporary bedroom, leaving the three of them in the living room.

Marie waits a couple minutes before getting up from the couch. “I'm gonna-”

“Oh my God just go comfort your themfriend already!” Emma exclaims as she shoves Marie in the direction of the hall that leads to the bedroom. Marie can't help but laugh as she's being pushed by Emma playfully.

“Have fun~!” Andre says in a sing-songy voice as Marie walks past them, flipping them off.

Once Marie left, Andre and Emma looked at each other for a moment before breaking out into laughter.

—

Jordan stands in the dark of their small, temporary bedroom. Their arms are crossed as they watch intently out the window, eyes peering through the blinds. The view isn't much to admire. Just the end of a shitty, dark alleyway leading out to a dimly lit street corner. Jordan watches as people wander the dark, cold streets of Brooklyn. What the hell they're doing out this late, no one knows, and Jordan doesn't necessarily care either. Still, they watch vigilantly, waiting for something to happen, someone who looks out of place, eyes that might stare back. But behind those focused, observant eyes, are a million thoughts spiraling around their head, all focused around one person. Marie. The last few days Jordan hadn't been able to think a single thought that didn't connect to Marie in some way, shape, or form. Hell, if they're being honest, all they've thought about for the last month has revolved around Marie.

Marie Moreau…

She came in like a fucking heart attack. Suddenly, out of the blue, taking their breath away, and letting them know they'll have to make some life changes to accommodate. For the past week or so Marie had been their safe place. A warm comfort that kept them grounded while the world crumbled around them. The one good thing in the middle of so much fucking bad. But with the warmth, comfort, and steadiness that Marie brought them, came something unexpected. Fear.

They were afraid. Afraid of losing her. They almost lost her the day Cate went on her crazy ass rampage. They had just got her, and the thought of now losing her at any moment? The thought of Vought taking Marie and doing God knows what to her? It terrified them. Made them feel powerless. And they hate feeling powerless.

A soft knock on the door drew Jordan out of their thoughts, back into the

present.

“Jordan? Can I come in?”

Marie's soft, muffled voice still managed to bring some sense of calm to Jordan, even with the storm of thoughts berating their brain. Jordan gives a soft “yeah”, just loud enough for Marie to hear, as Jordan continues their vigilant search out the window.

Marie enters the room, slowly pushing the door close behind her, not wanting to make too much noise this late. She looks at Jordan, admiring their masculine figure, sharp edges softly painted by moonlight as they look out the bedroom window. Marie slowly makes her way across the room to Jordan. Once at their side, she places a hand on their arm and places the other on their back, slowly rubbing soft circles while enjoying the feeling of their soft, cotton, long sleeve shirt. Jordan leans into their touch, eyes threatening to close and succumb to the comfort.

“Hey.” She whispers softly, looking up at them and noticing the stern look on their face, their jaw tense and brows furrowed.

“Hey.” Jordan mutters as they attempt to maintain their focus on the two strangers standing on the street corner. Doesn't seem like they're doing much, just talking, but Jordan watched their every move regardless.

Marie realizes what they're doing, taking the time to observe out the window herself. “See anything interesting?”

Jordan huffs, “Don't tease, Marie. This is serious.”

“I'm not teasing.” She remarks in a serious, reassuring tone as she looks back up at them. “It's just… you can't stand here all night and expect something to happen. And you can't will it into existence if you stare hard enough.”

Jordan decides to remain silent, knowing that she's right. Which really shouldn't be a surprise at this point. Marie takes this opportunity to move her hand to their chest and lead them back towards the bed, which is only a couple steps back from the window. Jordan lets her lead them to the bed, dropping their head into their hands as they're sat down by Marie.

“You're right.” Their hands gripping their hair, hoping that would release the tension in their head.

“I know.” Marie replies with a hint of humor in her voice. She stands in front of them, putting her hands on theirs and uncurling their fingers from their hair. Jordan eases their grip as she does.

Jordan lets out a soft chuckle as they bring their head back up to face Marie. They take a moment to admire her, the moonlight framing her in a graceful light. Beautiful is the only word that comes to Jordan's mind. The word itself doesn't even do her justice. They bring their left hand up to cup her face, gently brushing their thumb on her cheek. Marie places her hand on top of theirs as she leans into their touch, quickly turning her head to kiss their hand.

“I'm scared…” The words just fall out of Jordan's mouth, barely audible as Jordan wrestles with their feelings. Something about Marie disarms them, makes them feel vulnerable as all hell. But they know they can trust her. They're safe with her.

Marie looks into their eyes, an understanding look on her face, and nods. “I know. I'm scared too. Like, really fucking scared. But we aren't alone in this, Jordan. We have each other. We have Emma, and Andre-”

“I know… it's just-” Jordan takes Marie's hand and moves it down. Marie moves to sit down next to them, letting their hands fall on to Jordan's lap. Jordan takes a shaky, deep breath before continuing. “This is the first time I'm worried about someone who isn't just me.”

“You don't have to worry about me.” Marie says with a reassuring smile.

“Well, yeah. I know more than anyone that you can take care of yourself any fucking day, but I can't help it. You just mean so much to me. You have no fucking clue how much you matter to me, Marie. You are one of the only people in this fucked up world who has cared about me in this capacity, who has accepted me completely. I can't lose that. I can't lose you.”

Marie does her best to fight back the tears threatening to fall. She places her free hand on top of their clasped hands, giving it a squeeze. “You mean a lot to me too. More than you can imagine. And of course I'm worried about losing you too, but I have to believe that there's a way out of this. Staying locked up inside all day, afraid for our lives, always being on guard? We can't live like that forever. We have to trust in each other to get out of this shit together. You don't have to do this alone, Jordan. We have each other. And I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

Jordan nods, “okay.”

Marie places a hand on the side of Jordan's face. They stare into each other's deep, brown eyes for what feels like an eternity before Jordan leans in and closes the gap. Lips lock, as they desperately hold on to each other, refusing to let the other go. The kiss, deep and passionate. A moment imprinted into their minds as they meld, moving seamlessly against each other, savoring every sensation.

Jordan switches to their smaller form as they move to straddle Marie, holding her head in their hands as they desperately taste every single corner of Marie's mouth. They let out a moan as Marie tangles her hands into their longer hair giving it gentle tug. Jordan moves their lips to Marie's neck, revisiting every crevice and curve they've had the pleasure of getting to know. Marie's moans only fuel Jordan, as they push her to lay back on the bed, hands running their way up and down Marie's sides. Marie goes to flip them over, moving them up the bed till their head lands on the pillows. Jordan shifts again, strong hands moving up Marie's body, making their way under her sweater. But before they can do anything else, Marie pulls away, gently removing Jordan's hands from her sweater. Jordan lets out a small whine at the sudden loss of contact, throwing Marie a questioning look.

“Is everything alright?” they asked, slightly worried they went too far.

“It's late Jordan. And as much as I would love to continue this,” she runs her finger up Jordan's chest, eventually resting on their shoulder. “We could really use some sleep. There's a lot to do tomorrow, and we haven't slept as much as we probably should have over the last couple nights.” Marie says, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Jordan sighs, hands resting on Marie's thighs, thumbs brushing back and forth as they contemplate. “Why did I have to fall for someone so responsible?”

“Who else is gonna make sure you take care of yourself?” Marie says playful as she gets off of Jordan, pulling the covers of the bed down and draping them over Jordan.

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.” Jordan says, switching back to their female form, as they take their pants off and readjust the covers.

“Oh really? So, you've never stayed up for a whole week studying for exams, forgetting to do simple things like eat or shower?” Marie saunters over to the other side of the bed, taking her hoodie off, leaving her in a loose t-shirt and pajama pants.

Jordan turns onto their side, propping their head up with their arm as they watch Marie intently. “Those were necessary sacrifices for success.”

Marie laughs, shaking her head at Jordan. “Contrary to your popular belief, you do need to eat more than once a week to survive” Marie pulls back the covers and shuffles into bed.

“I bet I can last longer.” Jordan chuckles as Marie playfully slaps their arm. She gets on her side to face them, taking a second to adore their playful smile.

“You know what I mean. Admit it, you'd be helpless without me.”

Jordan shifts to their male form as they pull Marie into them, nestling their head in the crook of her neck. “I'd be helpless without you.” There's an undeniable sincerity to their muffled words that Marie holds on to, knowing that they'll always be there when they need each other the most.

Jordan pulls back and places a kiss on her lips, kissing her as if they're sealing a promise, before pulling away. They both lay there, holding each other, getting lost in the depths of each other's eyes. Marie brings a hand up and starts running her fingers through Jordan's soft curls, relishing in the sound they make as they close their eyes in bliss.

“You're so pretty.” Marie whispers out.

Jordan's eyes flutter open, a small smile tugging on their lips as they switch back to their female form. “No, you.”

Marie softly giggles as she brings Jordan's head forward and kisses their forehead, leaning her forehead on theirs after pulling back.

The two begin to drift off to sleep, holding each other tightly, heartbeats falling into the same steady rhythm.

“Goodnight.” Marie breathes out as she feels herself being pulled into slumber.

“Goodnight… I love you.”

It takes a minute, but Jordan's eyes shoot open, finally registering the words that so effortlessly flowed out of their mouth. They expected to be met with that same shocked expression they are currently wearing, but they aren't. In fact, Marie just looks at them smiling fondly as she responds, “I love you too.”

“You… you do?” Jordan's face softens as a mix of relief, surprise and a bit of uncertainty rests on their face.

Marie lets out a short, breathy laugh, looking at Jordan as if they just said the most ridiculous thing. “Why wouldn't I?”

“I- I don't know,” Jordan nervously stutters out.

They steady as Marie holds their face firmly in her hands, looking right into their eyes with unmistakable certainty. “I love you, Jordan Li. completely and honestly.”

Jordan smiles. Genuine joy spreading across their face. “I love you too. completely and honestly.”

They kiss deeply and lovingly, solidifying their growing connection. Jordan situates themself under Marie's arm, head resting on her chest as their arms wrap around her waist. Marie holds them back, kissing the top of their head before they both finally drift off to sleep.

---------

That's the first chapter of NBTS! Again, I wrote this back in January and it was the first thing I've written in a while. But yeah, thanks so much for reading. I shall be releasing chapter 2 NEXT Saturday. Probably gonna release chapters weekly just so I can stay ahead with the rest of it. Again, this is gonna be a long fic, (I'm currently on chapter 8 and I'm just getting started). Speaking of, MASSIVE thanks to @paperdoll201 for beta reading this. She's been the victim of many of my thought dumps and rambles, as well as reading through the fic and giving suggestions, and advice. So yeah, please check her out. She's great. (And also a better writer so go read her stuff too 💜).

Much love 😎👍❤️

-PB

[p.s. each chapter is titled after a song, all which will be on a playlist made for this fic. I'm still working on organizing it, but I'll drop it once it is. Promise.]

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wingardiumiku · 2 years

Text

make you stay forever | pjo snippet

percy jackson × daughter of hecate!oc

summary : did four months of somewhat normal teen relationship equal to seven months of break? whatever, all sabrina knew that when she finally got her boyfriend back, she wouldn't ever let percy go!

Masterlist

Sabrina Garcia stood on the deck of the Argo II, leaning on the rail as wind swept up her auburn hair making it fly everywhere. Behind her, Leo wrestled with levers and fiddled with his Nintendo Wii, speaking angrily in Spanish which she didn't bother commenting on. It was fun having another extravagant speaker on board but she wasn't in the mood to talk.

While she was on the topic of talking, Piper was doing a fantastic job in her charmspeak practice, so much so, it made Sabrina want to rip her bracelet off and propose singing stupid campfire songs with the undoubtedly queasy Romans underneath the shadow of the massive hull of their trireme.

Annabeth paced around like a maniac, murmuring about a bazillion backup plans for each backup plan. She had deep bags under her eyes. Sabrina had found her passed out in the hall of the Big House that very morning, wrapped in a giant image of the U.S.A and a compass, hands marred with marker ink—the same one that made scribbles on the map.

Jason Grace was probably the sanest amongst their crew. He was standing on the bow of the raised crossbow platform in an orange T-shirt and a white toga. As Sabrina made her way circling the ship, their eyes locked and he offered her a smile. He really was like a golden retriever.

While Annabeth rounded them for a last minute discussion, Sabrina stayed behind. She had heard the plan more than enough times to recite it from memory.

Down below, the scenary of Oakland Hills came into view and so did the large valley nestled under the foot of it. A river in the shape of G emptying into a sparkling lake beside which Camp Jupiter stood proud, the hippodrome, the neighborhood of Seven Hills, the coliseum, the fort of Via Principalis, everything was so picturesque.

Sabrina didn't know what to think of Camp Jupiter. It was so different from back home, different yet beautiful. It provided a safe environment for living—not a literal cult disguised as a summer camp.

Her hands felt shaky, knees wobbly and she was sure it wasn't entirely the effect of her breakfast or lack thereof.

Camp Jupiter was right there!

If Sabrina decided to be extra stupid, she could jump overboard. While the idea of turning into human ketchup splatter was not appealing, she wanted more than anything to just rush down there. The thought of ushering Leo crossed her mind but she dismissed it quickly.

Nope. Focus. Your love life cannot fuck up this quest. The world is in danger of destruction!

A loud crackle rang through the air alongside a loud boom. At first she mistook it as Jason summoning thunder but the gruff voice that greeted them was indication against that possibility.

The giant statue of Terminus warned them against landing the Argo II on Roman soil. In less than five minutes, he had managed to diss the warship, knock Piper off her feet, win an argument with Annabeth—which in itself was a huge accomplishment—and threatened to blast them off the sky.

Sabrina, cloaked by magic, walked casually towards the group. Peeking over, she saw the legion reinforcements had arrived making their so-called enemies a hundred stronger. Blue eyes sweeping the surroundings of their impending doom, her breath hitched.

Oh, Holy Hecate—she saw him.

There he was, Percy Jackson, in all his unkempt and tanned glory. His hair was slicked in one direction as though he had just taken a trip to the beach. He was taller, leaner and had gained more muscles.

The thought of him made heat flood to her face. His hands were thrown around two Romans, a cute boy with a black buzz-cut and a gorgeous girl with honey-colored curls.

But the purple T-shirt he adorned made her stomach sink. Right, even so close, they were eons apart.

He wasn't the same guy she knew till last winter, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise. He was a Praetor now, the most important rank in Camp Jupiter. For all she knew, he had moved on with his life, from CBH and from her.

"Leo, stop the ship!" Sabrina called out, dismissing the invisibility spell.

"What?"

"She's right, do it", Annabeth agreed, flashing a concerned look at Sabrina. "The law states that we cannot land beyond the Pomerian Line, there's no harm done in hovering over it. Not technically."

Terminus hesitated but did not stop them as the group took the ladder and they climbed down to the forum. The crowd parted as she made her way through the camp.

It was more of a permanent settlement—the aroma from the bakeries, the guilded columns, flawless architectures, terraced mansions, cute neighborhoods, domes except those destroyed in a recent scuffle and lots of beautiful fountains.

Her eyes scanned the people who wore the exact same look of wariness. It took Sabrina a lot less trial in figuring out the leader. It was the way Reyna carried herself with such confidence, maintaining a pokerface all throughout.

But Sabrina's search went on for the sea green gaze she had come to adore. The moment their eyes met, she looked away hastily.

A lump of white-hot anger, bitterness and guilt grew in her throat. It hurt so bad. All the nights she would muffle her sobs with the pillow, lest she wanted her siblings to be startled awake, the borderline crazy search for Percy and jumping at every opportunity to find a single clue of his whereabouts.

And there he was...

Her hands shook involuntarily. In her peripheral vision, she noticed the gathered people occupied by talking with Annabeth and Jason.

Sabrina walked backwards till she got lost in the swarm, away from the eyes and from him. She felt like a little girl but she would take the accusations of being childish any day over facing her fears headfirst. That's how it had always been.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid", she chanted like a prayer, walking through the winding streets of the foreign camp. It was no wonder she got lost, that was an impulsive decision on her part. Sabrina couldn't start to imagine the uproar she must've caused when her friends realized her absence.

Or, maybe they were glad to get a break from the ball of anxiety and gloom she always imitated these days.

Gods, she had been such a bad friend. Everyone had worked hands on to prepare for the quest while she got off easy with the sympathy card. She would make up for it, Sabrina vowed to herself, one way or the other.

Right as she was about to take a turn, a hand grasped her wrist. She was immediately on high alert, right hand creeping toward the bracelet on her left one.

"I hope you weren't thinking of shooting me as soon as we met, Red."

Shit.

A sob caught in her throat. That scent she could recognize anywhere. She let him turn her around without putting up much of a fight.

"Are you crying?" He sounded amused.

Sabrina was cringing mentally. Good job. Now your own boyfriend thinks you're pathetic too.

To her surprise, he threw his arms around her, pulling her close till there was little space separating them.

The redhead froze. "Percy?" Her voice quivered.

"Hm?" He snapped out of his trance, showing her a huge smile. "Sorry, I just... missed this—missed you."

His finger traced her face, thumb swiping the lone tear that trickled down her cheek. "Now, can you tell me what's making you cry?"

For the first time in a long while, she properly looked at him. Tears welled up in her eyes and her hands shoved him away. It was too much for her to handle. She couldn't do this—not without Annabeth, not alone.

"How can you pretend everything's okay?" She screamed at his wide-eyed state, once grateful for the deserted streets. "Do you have any idea how many search parties we sent for you? I looked everywhere! Your mom was worried sick. I thought I lost you, Percy. I thought you were dead!"

He remained silent throughout her rant, not speaking a single word. In the end she had taken enough steps towards him to hit his chest that she collapsed from the exhaustion.

Her face burned red as he let her rest against him, bringing her into his embrace once more.

"I'm sorry for worrying you", Percy started in a quiet voice. "Trust me, if I had a choice, I wouldn't have left at all. I didn't have a way to contact Camp either; all I remembered was your name and the address to mom's apartment in Manhattan."

He planted soft kisses on the side of her head. His growth spurt didn't hit her before as much as it did now. "I'm sorry. Give me one more chance?"

For a moment, neither of them made a squeak. Sabrina finally got her quiet to think. Instead of pushing him away, perhaps it was better to just accept it. It wasn't his fault. The blame could be stored away for Her Most Annoying Majesty. Just then, all she could think about was the warmth that his arms provided and how much she missed it.

Her eyelids felt heavy but Sabrina managed a small laugh. One chance? She would give him all the chances in the world if he looked at her like that.

Suddenly all too aware of her outburst, she buried her face in his chest and Percy gladly hugged her tighter. He couldn't make sense of how he managed to live without her through half a year. But, now that she was with him again, he wasn't willing to let her go, not anytime soon.

"Okay", she began tentatively, running a finger up and down the length of his arm. "We can sort this out. I mean, we've been through a literal war, how hard can this be? We're mature er... almost-adults?"

"Mhm, very mature", Percy grinned causing her to slap his hand lightly.

Pressing her face into his shirt, she took in the scent of seawater wafting off him, an odd sense of happiness mixed with subtle melancholy washing over her. "I...I'm glad you're here."

When Sabrina was looking up at him with that face, Percy couldn't stop himself from capturing her lips in a searing kiss—something he didn't know he needed to do this urgently.

He wanted to explain himself. He knew better than anyone about her troubles with trusting people. Percy was well aware that he had lost his spot in the bubble of people she could blindly lean on and he was willing to do anything to win it back.

When he started pulling away, Sabrina didn't imagine herself tugging him forward. Her hands wound up entangled in his dark hair, brushing his scalp to soothe both him and herself, a desperate reminder to realize that this was real.

"So, am I still your favorite or what?" Percy mumbled sporting a small blush, his hands locked around her waist.

After a number of grueling months, Sabrina laughed with all the genuineness she could possibly ever muster. Was that even a question? "Always, Perce." She rose on her tiptoes to peck his lips.

Percy was finally home.

#percy jackson x oc #percy jackson x reader #pjo oc #abracadabra series #child of hecate #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson oc #percy jackson x reader fluff #percy jackson fluff #annabeth chase x reader #leo valdez x reader #jason grace x reader #piper mclean x reader #hazel levesque x reader #frank zhang x reader #nico di angelo x reader

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