An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Jim Lake Jr./Claire Nuñez, Barbara Lake/James Lake Sr., Barbara Lake/Walt Strickler, Aaarrrgghh/Blinky (Trollhunters)
Characters: Jim Lake Jr. (Trollhunters), Toby Domzalski, Claire Nuñez, Barbara Lake, Walt Strickler, Blinky (Trollhunters), Aaarrrgghh (Trollhunters), Bular (Trollhunters), Gunmar (Trollhunters)
Additional Tags: may change the rating later, Knight AU, of sorts, King Author AU, Maybe some angst
Summary:
Trolls and humans have gotten along for generations, and there was always a human trollhunter. Jim was the current one, as well as the grandson of King Author. He has to protect the realm from rouge trolls and humans. With the help of his best friend Toby and somewhat of a rival Claire, he is up to the challenge.
Author’s Notes: Hey peeps! I know this is probably very long-awaited. But some time after I published my first chapter, I realized I was way in over my head. I published my first chapter because of the excitement, when really, I should've wrote a little more to be a bit ahead. I spent this time writing out up to chapter 3 and i'm in the middle of writing chapter 4 now. With school and other things, I should've told you guys and give you a heads-up. Good thing I'm not too far into the story.
Anyways, school's almost finished (but so is Arrow :( ), and then I'll get up to faster writing!
So 2-week minimum is still here.
OKAY BESIDES MY PERSONAL LIFE LISTEN TO THIS RIGHT HERE.
Chapter 2 has it's fair share of Oliver and Sara. It's really quick but if you really don't like it (I can't write smut at all and this is barely anything), You can skip it. ITS BARELY ANYTHING. I'M SERIOUS.
And depending on how you ride the angst train, this may or may not twist your insides.
But who knows :O
I'm terrible at writing anyways.
ENJOYYY!
PS. Tagging under the cut! And tell me if you want to be tagged or untagged!
Chapter 2, Severance.
Home.
Something struck him when that word fell from her lips. And it pulled him in.
The warm, familiar taste of her lips relaxed him. He had a firm grip on her waist and let the want take over.
Sara whispers a rough “Ollie,” before framing his face with her hands and running her fingers through his stubble.
He wonders how long it’s been since he’s done something like this. The physical aspect of a relationship was always the easiest to him. It didn’t require him to talk. Especially at a time like this.
He could relieve the tension that’s been building up in him with this.
Whatever this was.
He’s snapped back to reality when he hears the door of the foundry close and a small, almost unnoticeable ache the runs through his shoulders. He removes his lips from her and stares at her with a furrow in his eyebrows for a second before letting her go and checking on the stairs.
He stares at the door.
His eyes wander down to the padlock where the green light blinks at him, signaling that the door was locked.
“Ollie?” Sara wonders as she walks toward him.
He gives the padlock one last glance before he turns to her, surprised to see her so close.
“Sorry— I thought I heard the foundry door close.” he replies.
“Oh, I didn’t hear anything.” She adds.
He gets a little closer and whispers “I’m sure you were right.” before he puts a hand on her hip and chases her lips.
She giggles into his mouth and once he feels her tongue running along the seam of his lips, he quickly grants her entrance.
He slips a hand under her ass and lifts her up, and as soon his growing erection rubs against the warmth in between her legs, he groans into her mouth.
Their lips break contact when the need for air becomes too great, but he quickly recovers and marks his lips on her neck, biting and soothing, while slowly walking towards the cot in the corner of the foundry. She silently gasps and cards her fingers through his hair as his mouth reaches the valley of her breasts.
His knees hit the cot and he eases her on to the noisy mattress as his lips find hers again.
Before it gets any further, Sara calls him.
“Oliver?”
He keeps his lips pressed to hers and hums.
“Are you sure about this?” she whispers as she tenderly grabs the back of both of his shoulders.
Oliver stops and pulls back slightly, feeling a little lightheaded at the touch before he recovers.
He stares into Sara’s eyes, looking for something he couldn’t find in her eyes, before sighing.
“Yeah,” he says with a hint of a smile as he closes the distance between their lips.
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“Hey.” Oliver said as he raised his head from her neck.
He laid on top of her, both a tangle of limbs, their chests pressed together, and blankets thrown just below Oliver’s shoulders.
“Hey,” Sara replied before grabbing his face and moving her thumb through the stubble on his jaw. She smiled at him.
“That was…interesting.” she added.
Oliver smiled slightly before bringing his head down to her neck once again. He placed small, fleeting kisses against her collarbone, while slowly drawing up his lips to her face and staring into her eyes.
He didn’t know what he was looking for in her stealthy, blue eyes. Her face was filled with warmth through her smile, but her eyes held a different story. He could see the shreds of pain, and cold that seeped throughout.
He shook his head of his thoughts before refocusing on his reply.
“It was.. fun.” He said after dropping a chaste kiss on his lips.
“So, are we doing this? Whatever… this is?” she said with a reluctance to her voice.
Oliver stared at her. He didn’t know what to say. He was feeling… wistful. But he didn’t know what it was for. Did he want this? What is this?
He put on a smile and a questioning look before releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding.
And he pressed his lips to hers.
Sara moaned quietly into his mouth before slowly moving her hands from his waist to his shoulders.
Before he could open his lips to hers, a shattering ache surfaced on his right shoulder.
He tore his lips from hers and before he could recover Sara rose on her elbows and asked Oliver what was wrong.
Oliver shuddered out a breathy reply before grabbing his shirt off the floor and making his way to the bathroom. He gripped onto his throbbing right shoulder after putting on his shirt to relieve the unannounced pain. After entering the bathroom, he stood in front of the mirror as another searing wave of pain made his way on to his right shoulder. He felt his blood rushing to the area as he grunted after the ache. He opened the drawer beneath the sink, praying to himself that there was something in there to relieve whatever this was. He’s never opened these drawers after first coming down to the foundry, because he’s never found a use for them. He rummaged through the fluffy white towers, and one-time packets of body wash and shampoo before he found a plastic pill holder. He looked down at the sticker labeled Oxycodone and sighed in relief. His question arose when he shook it to find that it was empty.
Why the hell was there an opioid in the foundry bathroom? We keep all our drugs in the drawers near the computers.
He stood in thought and moved his eyes up to the label with the name on it.
Felicity Megan Smoak.
He furrowed his eyebrows at the name as he shifted his balance.
Felicity? Why did she have a prescription of Oxycodone? And why is it in here?
He opened his mouth in a silent gasp at the pain that shot through his shoulder with an intensity that was much greater than the ones before. It sent him down to the floor with a shout, the cold floor a contrast to the warm blood swelling the area on his shoulder.
What the hell is happening? Why does Felicity have Opioids stashed in here? What is this ache on my —
My mark.
He continues to grunt in pain as he widens his eyes at the realization.
Felicity. She’s in danger.
He tried to stand to get to the door, but the strangest thing happened.
The pain slowly flowed out of his shoulder, and once he regained control, he quickly stood up and looked at the mirror.
He could see the streaks of red running at the back of his neck and disappearing into his dark grey tee. He moved his eyes back up to the reflection he saw on the mirror.
And stared.
He could see the darkness seeping into his eyes. A string he could feel in the deepest part of his soul. The string was always pulled taut and he never really felt it.
Until now.
Something prompted him to take off his shirt. He didn’t know what it was. What emotion was defining him at this moment.
He could feel the involuntary desperation as his fingers grazed the hem of his T-Shirt. The inevitable fall that was slowly making away to the pit of his stomach.
When he pulled it off, the string inside him vibrated.
And the fall was only beginning.
He eyed his scars briefly, the memory of all the distinct knives and bullets blurring his vision simultaneously.
He gazed upon the red streaks again through the reflection the mirror offered. As tilted his head slightly to the right, he could see that they kept going until they disappeared into the hairs that stood at the nape of his neck.
With a frustrated growl, he turned around, his back to the mirror, and turned his head to the right to look at the mirror.
His eyes slightly widened, and the darkness seeped fully into his eyes.
The string inside him snapped with a force that resonated through his entire body.
And then he realized that the fall in his stomach, had already happened. And with it, came a bone-deep anguish that settled where the fall occurred.
He stared at it, the curiosity overwhelming the distress his body was feeling.
The arrowhead that was inscribed with the line of code that he could almost swear he could decipher sometimes. It would be on the tip of his tongue whenever he looked at it. Which was crazy, because he never even learned the code language. But it was always there. The one constant in his life.
It became clearer when he found out why he had it.
And why he had to stay away at what it would try to bring him.
Because he couldn’t do that to her.
He continues to stare his swelled mark, looking at the vines of red skin starting throughout different points of his mark, traveling up to his neck. And the blood seeping through his dermis, distorting the black and dark green lines of code that defined his arrowhead.
What is going on?
He wipes at sudden tear that escapes his eye before turning around and straightening his posture.
He picks up the showerhead on the bathtub floor, and winces as he uses his right hand. The movement sends tiny little aftershocks up to the back of his right shoulder. He sets the water at cold, positions it over his mark, and turns it on.
He hisses as the cold water runs through his mark and down to the bathtub. The sting washes over him, and realizes that his eyes were closed the entire time.
When he opens them, his eyes follow the swirls of red that go down the drain, and once it stops, he turns off the water, He adds urgency to his actions, reminding himself that he might not be the only one that is injured. He shakes his head after he pats the area dry with the fluffy towel.
With a string of whispered curses, he takes his phone out of his pocket he puts on his shirt again.
He sends a quick text to Dig and Felicity, giving them each a different question, before running out of the foundry bathroom and silently praying that Sara didn’t have any questions.
Silence.
Felicity was grateful for it, if she was honest. She never thought she would enjoy it as much as she did now.
She looked out the car window, watching the skyscrapers, the big trucks and fancy cars, and the multitude of men and women pass by her as John drove through the city.
She turns to her head to the left, looking over at him. John senses her eyes on him, and turns his head to her for a quick smile before refocusing on the road ahead.
After all, there was always a road ahead.
She returns his smile with one of her own, albeit a small one.
It doesn’t reach her eyes, or show off her dimples.
Because she isn’t ready.
Her smile fades quickly, and as soon as it does completely, John grabs her hand wordlessly. He holds on tight, and Felicity returns the grip a little fiercely. She slowly moves her head away from John and turns to her right shoulder. She closes her eyes to visualize the arrowhead once more. But this time, all she sees is her skin, scarlet, littering with specks of black and blue.
She seems to zone out the fleeting vibration in her right pocket, because she feels relief.
The unfathomable pain, and pressure on her soul.
It was fading away.
Because she set herself free.
When she gets out of the car, Dig opening the door for her, she flashes through her past.
She’s heard all the proverbs.
Read about the philosophers.
Even heard her grandparents warning her about wasted time. And she’s read about the damn poets urging their readers to seize the day.
All she has to do is try for herself.
So, when she walks into the hard planes of muscle standing at the front, she looks up, startled.
She stares into the familiar deep blue eyes, now stained with something dark. It’s building up like a crescendo, but his wild expression doesn’t show it.
His eyes roam through her figure, looking with a desperation she hasn’t seen before.
And she doesn’t want on her.
She averts her eyes from his face and stares at the buttons of his leather jacket with a silent expression, waiting for him to be satisfied with his search.
I have been avoiding joining AO3, content with posting my oneshots here on Tumblr. But have you ever had a fanfic idea that just kept buzzing around in your head, consuming your dreams?
That was me these past 2 weeks. So I finally finished my first multichapter fanfic. Can't wait to post it on AO3! Gosh, I really do need a life.
